Phil focused on his breathing and the reliable "thud, thud, thud" of his shoes on the tarmac. He welcomed the whip of the wind on his cheeks, keeping him cool. With a flash of blonde, Amy pulled ahead of him slightly, ponytail swinging. He let her take the lead a while.
Phil was tall and lean, perfectly built for running and far faster than Amy but he liked to let her overtake him from time to time for a number of reasons.
For the most part it was genuine encouragement. He was quietly proud of her. Amy had had a tough childhood. The two had met in school as teenagers, and had grown apart as they matured at different rates. After a chance encounter on a bus one night, they had entered a race together and had been running partners for the past two years. She had made a striking recovery from an eating disorder and when he looked at her now, struggling but always determined, she seemed worlds away from the pallid waif, reeking of vomit, that he had known in his youth. She had grown strong, her skin was bright and tanned. Her hair and nails were no longer brittle and dull and behind her eyes there was now a spark of determination. He wanted her to feel good, because she deserved to. He didn't mind the view from behind her, either.
He was attracted to her, naturally. She was a very striking girl and there was no avoiding it. However, he was content to let it be. She was his partner first and foremost, and although he might have been faster alone, he doubted he would have gone out so regularly at all without her holding him accountable. it would be a shame to risk something so symbiotic.
He was content to simply watch her, even as she sweated and spat into the hedge, and to listen to her laboured breaths on uphill stretches with a little imagination. Somehow the indignity of exercise is intimate, especially when shared. She drew him to her, even at her least beautiful.
They alternated routes, sometimes finishing at her house, sometimes at his, and took turns providing water and rest. Today, it was Phil's turn. They rounded the corner onto his road and he overtook her for the final stretch. She sped up to match him but he reached the door first. She burst into the porch behind him, kicking her shoes off and bending over, panting with exertion. Her cheeks glowed and a strand of hair clung to her forehead with glistening sweat. She caught her breath and smiled at him. Her smile was warm and wide, and made her eyes wrinkle kindly. He passed her one of the prepared water bottles from the fridge and they threw themselves down at the kitchen table, stretching their tired limbs.
Neither of them spoke for a while, but silently gulped down their water and got their breath back.
She smiled at him again and eventually said "I think I pushed a little too far at the end. I'm exhausted!"
"Me too," he only half lied. He was pretty tired, after all.
The two sat in silence for a few minutes, breathing steadily.
