saturday morning i went for a run. it was 10:30 a.m. and i was making my way up beachwood with plans to run to the top, hike hollyridge trail, cross over to bronson canyon, and then run back down to JGHQ. i set out feeling pretty good and olympian about this plan. so i'm running up that hill when i pass another meghan. this meghan is leaning against a wall that encloses the front yard of a spectacular home -- one of many in my neighborhood.
i'm amazed that i even hear her because a) i am hard of hearing* b) i am listening to my ipod and c) did i mention that i am running? but somehow i catch the call of my name, and so i turn around, and jog back to where she is leaning.
"oh, hey meghan! i didn't see you there."
this meghan is my ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend. she lives two blocks away from me. she's about four inches taller than i am and is also a redhead, but doesn't need to worry about her roots. today she is covered in sweat and there is mud streaked across her face and stomach (visible because she is only wearing a sports bra). she is panting.
we are friends and so we chat. this meghan has been running since 6:30 a.m. and has covered 18 miles, which included forest lawn cemetery and a treacherous route over the cahuenga pass ("it was so dangerous! i almost died!"). she is training for a marathon in october.
i told her that i was going to run up the hill.
"that's tough," she said graciously. "it's a straight incline. i've never ran all the way up beachwood from the bottom."
after talking to the other meghan, i felt slightly less olympian, but i soldiered on, propelled by the new yorker fiction podcast coming through my earbuds.
the run was challenging, and i certainly did sweat a lot, but maybe only because i kept my shirt on the entire time.
and now, an olympian after my own heart:
dayron robles of cuba. note the specs.
*jg trivia: i have prosthetic stapes bones in both ears! insert lame special olympics joke here. yuk yuk yuk.