We start running -- and we talk and talk and talk. And when I get really enthusiastic, I leap and start flapping my arms like I'm about to take flight. This happens a few times. L just laughs. She's used to it by now.
We run past quiet, dark streets in Southie towards to the brighter, taller lights of Boston, finally turning around at the Convention Center. And when our hips are sore and our noses are running, it's time for music.
We keep running - we realize we've taken the long way - but we keep running... down Broadway, down O Street, around the curved, windy stretch of road by the Old Harbor.
When we finally stop running, it's late, much later than we'd planned.