The first time you ran past me,
Lost in your own iPod universe,
Running hard, with purpose.
The early summer sun
Hadn’t quite warmed up yet.
The cold ocean lapped up against the beach
Feet from where we ran,
In opposite directions.
I noticed you because you were new,
Not a regular on this route
I had taken for years.
I noticed you because of the way
The morning light illuminated
You from behind, giving you an
Angelic glow.
Every day, without fail,
You ran past me on that same
Stretch of beach.
One day you wore joggers,
Rather than your usual shorts.
One day you were actually running
Barefoot, which slowed you down.
One day you didn’t have your earphones in,
But you still didn’t see me.
You got a haircut one time,
But your fringe kept getting in your face.
You were very consistent every day –
7:12; 7:10; 7:13; 7:07; 7:09.
One day you were late and it wasn’t
Until 7:23 that I met you,
Further down the beach.
It’s hard to say why
I was so fascinated by you.
The thought of seeing you every morning
Caused me to wake with a smile.
I thought about you constantly,
About who you might be,
What you might do,
Where you might be running to.
I had memorised everything about you,
From every brief and fleeting ‘encounter’.
But you never saw me,
Not once did your gaze meet mine.
So many times I thought about
Saying hello, or even waving.
So conflicted was I by what your
Reaction might be, I never did.
Perhaps I wanted you to remain the
Mysterious stranger, almost not real.
Some nights I would go walking
Along the beach in some vain hope
That you might be there,
As though seeing you daily wasn’t enough
To fuel my obsession.
I secretly hoped you wouldn’t be there,
And you never disappointed.
The sky was clear that day, and
A warm breeze drifted in from the water.
The beach would be busy later
With picnicking families and dog-walkers
And teens in jeans and hoodies.
Now it was silent but for the waves,
Empty but for me, and you, I hoped.
I spotted you in the distance,
Not running, but sitting in the sand.
It became clear, as I neared,
That you had hurt your ankle.
You were quite calm, though,
Because you knew I’d be along any minute,
You told me. You just knew it.
Far from being awkward,
Our first exchange was reminiscent
Of friends, or at least acquaintances.
I examined your ankle, a sprain.
Your crutch, I walked you home
And you made me drink tea.
We talked for an hour or more,
Your voice sweeter than I imagined,
Every word you said more interesting
Than the last.
You remember, you assure me,
The first time you ran past me.
But you, like me, were unaware
That it would be the beginning
Of our love story.
