Plucky. That’s how I’d characterize her. Gritty, most assuredly.

I’d never seen her before. But I saw her this morning. Hair bouncing in a flowy pony tail. Stride constant and resolute. We eyed each other several times as we passed by. Her running clockwise while I counter-clockwise. Her face always set in determined tones.

Although there were probably 10 of us total throughout my run over the grassy knolls of Queen’s Park Circle, it was always her that caught my attention. Perhaps because aside from me she was there the longest. Perhaps because of her curious resemblance to “Lori”, a first-time marathon runner in the documentary Spirit of The Marathon.

I wonder if she thought the same of me? If I somehow stood out? If my countenance rivaled hers in terms of gallant intensity?

After almost an hour of exertion I galloped through my final lap. My kinvaras caked with remnants of the dusty trails that line the periphery of the park. My legs carrying me swiftly over tree roots as I wound ’round arcing curves. And when I was done, I shut down the engines, and slowed to a cool down.

It was then that Lori and I again crossed paths. Both now each at a deliberate walk. Simultaneously glancing up from our watches as if in mirrored poses. We eyed each other one last time.

This time smiling.

We congratulated one another.


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