Durf claims he goes through life under a cloud of sunshine. Ever in search of cool weather, he promoted a trip to Alaska some years ago, and wouldn't you know, we experienced Alaska's worst heat wave in decades. The parallel to this summer in NY is obvious, no?
The silver lining, though, is that the heat provides Durf with an excellent excuse for *not* running. I, on the other hand, do not feel at home until I've mapped out some runs in the neighborhood and verified that they are runner-worthy (as opposed to jogger routes). Until today, I had not seen any runners. A few crazed noon-time power walkers march up the hill outside our apartment complex each day, but where were the runners? I figured they had to be out there somewhere because the NY City Marathon is only four months away.
Today I found them on another part of the aqueduct trail at 6:45 in the a.m. Ah, now I have a suitable running route. I inaugurated it too, as is my habit. Halfway home, I fell. I don't think I've left any trail I frequent unbloodied. But never fear, the worst thing that could have happened (at my advanced age, anyway) did *not* happen. That's right, nobody saw me. (Did I ever tell you about the time I did a face plant on Market St in SF, wearing high heels and stockings?)
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