Running in the am

I have yet to miss my morning run and still love it, although some mornings are easier than others. It all depends on the heat and humidity. Sometimes it feels like you’re running underwater, and it looks like I am too (soaked with sweat). I now know what bricks not to step on (some move and send mysterious liquid up your leg, an experience I need not repeat), where to hold my breath (on account of the meat market setting up on the corner), and know how fast I need to run across the road to dodge any cars that ignore traffic lights (most cars). My Ipod is on a three-song rotation right now and I have gotten used to seeing the regulars each morning. The woman in red that walks as though her life depends on it (arms up, huffing it all the way), the man who hates when I pass him (he needs to relax, I worry that one morning I’ll have a heart attack on my hands), the slow clappers (the group that walks backwards as they clap their hands. Yes, I pretend the slow motivational clap is for me). Then there’s the matching couple (they rock pink shirts everyday), the man who plays incredible music in the trees (dressed to impress), and the man who limps in his yellow sandals. There are so many people at the park at such an early hour but it doesn’t feel cluttered. There are basketball players practicing, girls

smacking a birdie back and forth, men flying kites that look like hawks, and women walking in high heals. It is not a place with a lack of things to see, that’s for certain.