After taking a long hiatus to celebrate my thousand miles, Christmas, and the fact that they didn’t drag me off to jail for questioning the legitimacy of the Michell Report, I somehow got up the courage today to lace up the shoes and hit the park for a six mile run. It was a humbling experience to say the least. Nothing seemed to work as well as it did a week ago. My side stitches were flaring; there were little pebbles in my shoes, and my legs were so out of rhythm I almost tripped running up Harlem Hill. Although I was running slow, I was huffing and puffing like I was running tempo. It was not a pretty sight.
The only saving grace of my otherwise forgettable run was that I got a few “hellos” and “how are ya” s from some of the runners running in the opposite direction. I couldn’t tell if they anonymously had missed my presence in the park during the past week or whether they were strangers from out of town who didn’t know proper running etiquette in New York City. Either way, it felt sort of nice to be welcomed back.
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