Running from Love: A Story for Runners and Lovers by Rozsa Gaston Page A

well enough. That’s why,” Farrah yelled. She hadn’t meant to get steamed, but Blanca was beginning to get on her nerves, pestering her with the exact same question she had been asking herself for the past two days. She sprinted to her water bottle, hoping for the next set of stride outs to begin.
    “Okay, gang. Last set of stride outs,” their coach cut in. “Ready—go!” His command sliced through the cool gloaming.
    They flew off, silence descending on the group once more. This time, Farrah slowed her pace. Blanca wouldn’t pester her until she’d crossed the 200-yard mark. Maybe she should ask her friend for advice on how to reopen the dialogue with Jude. It would give Blanca something to chew on.
    “So, what if he doesn’t show up at Leatherman’s Loop? Then what are you going to do?” Blanca resumed, back at her side.
    “Look—if I ask you for some advice, do you promise not to ask any more questions until the workout’s over?”
    “Okay, chica. What do you need to know?” Blanca smiled slyly at Farrah.
    “I don’t know why I didn’t say yes when he asked me out,” Farrah confessed. “But I want him to ask me again. How do I get him to do that?”
    “You mean you’ve already blown it? So now what do you do?” Blanca spelled out, assessing the situation accurately.
    “Yes. And don’t talk to me until we’ve finished, okay? You’re messing up my concentration,” Farrah said, trying to sound firm.
    “Gotcha.” Blanca put a finger on her lips, a Cheshire cat smile on her face. She turned away, clearly mulling over Farrah’s problem.
    Twilight deepened into night as the workout progressed. Soon, the twinkling lights of the shops on Broadway and on the elevated platform at the end of the No. 1 subway line lit up the skyline. There was something homey and comforting about the Bronx. It wasn’t fancy. Instead, it was bustling and lively, filled with people from all parts of the world who worked hard and enjoyed simple pleasures.
    Farrah found herself gasping for breath at the end of each segment. As much as it pained her now, later she’d sleep like a rock. That is, if thoughts of how to resume a dialogue with Jude didn’t keep her awake. Finally, the workout was over. Two final stride outs ended it. It was time for the twenty or so runners to head home to their families and evening routines.
    “Okay, chica, I’ve got it.” Blanca said, coming up alongside her. Ana was nowhere in sight.
    “What’s that?” Farrah stood with her hands on her knees, gasping for breath.
    “You call him. And tell him you looked at your schedule and want to let him know when you’re free for dinner.”
    “That’s too obvious,” Farrah objected. “Besides, I don’t have his phone number.”
    “What about his e-mail address?”
    “I’ve got that.” Farrah looked at Blanca doubtfully. “But e-mailing has a way of screwing things up. Especially when you don’t know someone well.”
    “You’re right. The trick is to keep it short and to the point. Give him your available dates and sign off.”
    “I’d rather wait until he calls again.”
    “You rejected him when he called to ask you out. Why should he call again?”
    “I just said I’d let him know sometime soon.”
    “Exactly. So now he’s waiting for you to do what you said.”
    “Huh.” Farrah hadn’t thought about that. She’d said whatever came into her mind just to get off the hook at that moment.
    “And another thing.” Blanca wasn’t about to let her go.
    “What?”
    “Don’t go on about needing organic milk in your coffee when he takes you out to eat.”
    “I just asked if I could get organic, 2 percent fat milk in my coffee.”
    “Exactly. Lay off the fancy-pants stuff, or you’ll never hook up with anyone.”
    “But I care about what goes into my body. Don’t you?” Farrah was getting worked up.
    “Yes. But not in a restaurant in front of a guy you just met who might be interesting. He’ll think you’re a