In Sync

Nate and I start out on our run, even though it's the last thing I want to do. It's been a stressful day full of accidents, disobedient children, a short tempered Mom and a needy baby.  All I want to do is sit down and relax, but I know I'll feel better when we're done.
 So we go. The air is thick and muggy, it's 90 degrees, and I'm sticky before we even start. I'm not doing this for enjoyment, that's for sure.
 We settle into our thing, him setting the course, me setting the pace. I follow when he turns, and he slows down when I start to lag. He could run faster and longer, but his desire to be with me outweighs his desire to burn a few extra calories. We talk here and there, but mostly we  listen to our feet hitting the pavement and our breathing quicken as our heart rates rise.
 We cross the road to the sidewalk and I end up closer to the street. Without saying a word, he slows down, taps my behind and we switch places. He's a gentleman, and he wants to be closest to the street in case something happens. Apparently, that was also a good time to tap my rear end. Duh.
 The dark patches of road and looming shadows don't seem as scary as when I ran alone a few nights ago. In fact, I don't notice them at all. My strong man is running next to me. I'm safe, secure and if anything happens, I know he'll swat away the bad guys without batting an eye.
 3 miles later, we slow to a walk and our heart rates back down. I slip my hand into his and we walk the last mile together.
 He runs, I follow. I slow, his pace pulls back. We cross, and switch. No words, we just know. We're in sync with each other, and it feels good.