The Proposal

Esther succumbed to Bostonian peer pressure and started to run in the Summer of 2012, eventually running in the BAA Half Marathon that Fall. While training, she would drag Shahein on her hair-raising sprints across traffic. As Boston thawed in the week leading to Easter, I suggested we go for a run on Saturday. She was only too pleased.

That afternoon, we went on an abridged route that had us crossing the Harvard Bridge on Mass Ave. Halfway across the bridge, the plan had been to stop with the sunset and ask. I used the old “asthma! gotta slow down” excuse. She. wasn’t. having. it. I was alotted precisely 25 seconds before “Hurry up!” and “We have to get moving so we get a good time!” and “Eeeeesh. Are you better yet?” started up. Shahein stated that he had to stop due to his asthma. I asked for a few more seconds, but the game was up. She was on her way, tearing up the pavement, as I hufflepuffed behind. Not too discouraged, I had a backup plan: the rose garden near my apartment. After the run, I asked to go visit the garden. On the way, I received such static as “I have to use the bathroom.” and “It’s cold.”

Despite the protests, we made it to the gates, only to find it locked. Defeated, we went back to my apartment so she could get her urination on. Once she emerged from her urgent phonecall from nature, I was on one knee. This time I got to be pithy: “You’ve foiiled my plans so I’m just going to ask now”.