Ch. 6 (early)

The Pentland Hills were just south of Edinburgh. Though their rounded, grassy peaks were only half a kilometer above sea-level, they felt like mountains to my Midwestern calves. My world traveling hadn't beaten that from me as I often rode buses, cabs, or the shoulders of an Australian bloke.

But after a month of running up, following Nele, I was trim, which meant I was perpetually late to meet her each morning as I posed, flexed, and took shirtless selfies. I posted the best to my blog which got little extra traffic but I imagined the dedicated visitor got extra joy from their perusal. By the time I was slim and toned enough to start posing, I was an integral part of Nele’s morning routine. And so she waited. Nele was an Austrian with a Swedish name, pronounced nee-luh, though I didn't use it much. Austria in German, her native tongue, was Osterreich and so I often called her The Ostrich. She was blonde and fit and she had a fairly neutral accent as she had spent a few years teaching English in hopes the work experience would allow her a job in America. It didn't.

“So what’ll you do for work?” I asked when we had reached the summit. We only chatted when I needed breath. I knew a lot about her.

She stretched among the heather. She touched her toes, twisted, did the butterfly, and all sorts of other positions that her leggings allowed. The first day, I had run into her I hadn't expected we’d run. I just knew she was often in the Hills, as many were, and thought it was for a hike so I’d gone out in jeans and a jumper as Scotland in September was nippy. My clothes had not allowed for her stretches so that first wet morning I had to watch her bend in leggings as I chatted her up. When the fabric got wet, it got transparent and she sat right on dewy grass. Australia was better suited for this Austrian but she ran early and he was not an early guy. He was a late guy, rarely starting his days in the AMs. “Prostitution always possible,” she said. Her smile was crooked but infectious even during times of shock. “It’s perfectly legal and acceptable where I’m from. My best friend did it for a year but couldn't keep up with her studies so she had to drop the job or school. She pick up a medieval literature course instead. She works on a vineyard now. But I couldn't do. I joking of course.”  Sometimes her tongue slipped grammatically.

~

When I got back to the UK from Germany, while in the Manchester airport, I made a blog and set it to private so only people who knew the URL could find it. I couldn't think to post much as I was nearly asleep waiting for the ticket lines to open and it was only 3 AM and they wouldn't start till 6.

i'll write in this everyday and itll be boring a lot but maybe you’ll realize that I’m never giving this up and never moving on and even when I dont have internet like tomorrow i'll have a hundred queued posts that’ll go automatic

i love you