I had searched the online database of 5K runs in Southern California and found one in Ventura County on a Saturday. I hadn’t been to Ventura County since the weekend I’d married Gemma in Santa Barbara. So much had happened since then. She’d broken up with Andrew. I had become a naturalized American citizen. We’d had sex and told each other we were in love with each other. The beautiful ranch resort in Montecito where we stayed for our sham honeymoon had been severely damaged by mudslides. Our relationship had been severely damaged by confusion, fear, jealousy, mistrust, naïveté, the inability to just enjoy what we had and to push through the pain together.

As bittersweet as it was to be back there, I was still holding onto the belief that we were capable of rebuilding, just like the San Ysidro Ranch was.

I didn’t get to the event location as early as I would have liked. There were already a lot of people milling about and stretching to the usual Eighties pop songs that blared from two big speakers. It was a morning event, the marine layer hadn’t burned off yet, and I was looking forward to running near the beach. A quick run to clear the head was just what the doctor ordered.

When I run I’m never in the right headspace to seriously check out women, not before a race anyway, but after picking up my registration packet and affixing my race number to myself, I caught a glimpse of a ponytailed lass in hot pink Fitness Nerd running gear. She was stretching her calf muscles. My body responded to seeing her before my brain did. All of a sudden my heart was racing even though I had barely been walking. She looked so pretty and perky, but determined—as opposed to annoyed and resentful, which is how she usually looked when I’d gotten her to run with me. She was looking around, and when she saw me, she didn’t look surprised, so much as relieved.

She finished holding her stretch before casually sauntering over, as if we were always running into each other at races. It reminded me of the first time we met, the ease with which we began conversing, except I wasn’t naked, she didn’t appear to be stoned, and there were dozens of people around us.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi.”

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

“You’re here to run?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“You are constantly surprising me.”

“Good. I intend to continue doing that. For a very long time.”

Like forever?

As if she knew my question, she scratched her nose with her left hand and I noticed that she was wearing her wedding band. On her left ring finger. On her right finger she wore the 3.0 ring.

The man who’d organized this event got on the microphone and made an announcement for everyone to gather at the start line.

I didn’t want to leave Gemma’s side, and it must have been obvious to her.

“Don’t slow down for me, okay? I mean it. I’ll be fine.”

“Really? Have you been training?”

“Uh huh. For like a week.”

“Did you eat? Are you hydrated?”

“I had a chia seed pudding and drank tons of coconut water up until an hour ago. I’m fine. I’m gonna stay towards the back. Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay.” I had to ask, to clarify. I couldn’t wait. “So this means you’ll stay married to me?”

She grinned. “Yeah. I’ll see you at the finish line.”

I did as she asked. I ran the race and placed third, which was fine considering I hadn’t really been training for a while. I was definitely pushed along, as always, by the thought of seeing Gemma after finishing, although this time I was excited to watch for her by the sidelines. I don’t think she could have picked a better way to come back to me. It meant everything.

The thirty minutes I had to wait for Gemma to cross the finish line felt like an eternity, but as soon as I saw her round the bend, I was so proud of her. I started jumping and hooting and hollering, you’d think she’d just completed the Boston Marathon. Still, she was jogging, maintaining an upright posture, and most importantly—she was smiling and coming straight for me. She jumped up into my arms and I spun her around. It was a family-friendly event, so that was the extent of our public display of affection. Also, I wanted to make sure she rehydrated immediately and did some static stretches.

But, while she was scarfing down the complimentary ice cream sandwich, I quietly mentioned that I was thinking about getting a room at a nearby hotel. To shower, or whatever.

“Yes,” she said, mouth full, and already heading for her car.

We held hands while I convinced the desk clerk to let us check into a room early, and I couldn’t even wait for the elevator doors to close before getting a salty taste of her gloriously perspired skin.

“I just have to tell you,” she said, all breathless and groping me, “Everything that I’ve ever felt for you and with you is new and more and better. So much better than anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Same here,” I said.

“I promise to love all of your messy feelings if you’ll love mine.”

“I already do.”

We barely even made it inside the room before peeling each other’s clothes off. Showering would have to wait. Everything else on earth would have to wait. I needed to be inside of my wife.

“This is my finish line,” I said, as I pulled down her panties and lowered myself to that sweet secret part of her that was mine, all mine.

We were all sweaty and tired, and had sex fast, like a couple who’ve been married for years, who knew we’d have a lifetime together to do it again and again, and it was perfect.