The Chase

Ever since a sprained ankle cramped my style for more than a month, I’ve developed a greater appreciation for running. Today’s adventure was particularly fun, as it featured a chase sequence.

After warming up on residential backstreets, I turned onto Los Feliz Boulevard and noticed I was 50 feet in front of another afternoon runner. This in itself is not out of the ordinary, but when I he passed me a few minutes later, I took note.

I’m trying to get my speed back after the injury – so I accepted the challenge. I paced off him for a few minutes, keeping in stride 20 or so feet behind him. But I was gaining. Just like in the car, it’s bad etiquette to slow down after you pass someone. I hit the accelerator and kept speeding as I felt his eyes on my back.

I sensed the space between us growing and I figured I’d seen the last of him after I turned down Vermont. But when I stopped briefly at a light, I caught a glimpse of him 50 or so feet back and my stopping was giving him a chance to catch up. I looked both ways and ran on the red.

Then I got caught again at the light at Franklin. Shit. No chance of jay crossing this time. Suddenly he was standing next to me. I glanced at him, turning my toes up to stretch.

He ran as soon as the light turned yellow and I lost my lead. I ran closer behind him this time. To strangers, it might’ve looked like we knew each other. My stride filled the space vacated by his last step. And we were careening down Vermont, dodging pedestrians, chained-up bicycles and sidewalk tables at Fred 62. But his unassertive navigation was slowing me down. I blew past him at Russell, jumping off the sidewalk to pass a combination stroller-couple roadblock in front of the Los Feliz 3.

I was flying – past Skylight Books and the vintage clothing store, catching the lights across Prospect and Hollywood, dodging dogs on leashes and foot traffic around the red line station. My leg nearly grazed the top of a lit cigarette dangling from an old man’s fingers as he shuffled down the sidewalk. At a light on Sunset, I glanced back for my race partner, hoping for another round. But he had vanished, leaving me to admire the Hollywood sign all alone.