He was already well stretched and warmed up as she trotted up to him. Again those legs killed him. She wore a loose black t-shirt and bright, fluorescent orange running shorts. The wrap-around shades and her hair back in a ponytail swinging easily side to side completed the picture. But she had legs of b****y iron.
He fell in easily beside her. They dropped down Stewart Street and, after a little judicious zig-zagging around tourists, they followed Western Ave. toward Broad Street.
“You enter many tri’s?” He’d signed up for the Oregon event online. He’d been lucky enough to catch the last day of registration. He’d been relieved that it was a short one, a mile swim, twenty-five mile bike ride, and a ten-K run. There’d also been a shorter sprint tri, but he figured he could, depending on w
