14.03 miles 2:57:25 8:20am 50 degrees (heated up to over 60) 12:39 pace
Almeda to Binz to Montrose to Allen Parkway to Shepherd to Memorial Drive and back. Finished up with a run around Hermann Golf Course.
I feel kind of lucky to be home in one piece.
There has been a lot written about the way drivers of cars treat those who ride bikes in the Memorial Park area.
Today I witnessed (over and over) runners almost being clobbered by bike riders. It happened twice to me.
I understand that the street is not safe in the area for bikeriders. There have been serious injuries - even fatalities at Memorial. What I don't understand is why a few (not ALL - there were plenty of people riding responsibly) have taken to the sidewalks in such an aggressive and dangerous manner.
My running schedule is calling for longer and longer runs. The Bayou Trail is convenient, slightly hilly, and I'd like to continue to use it. I thought I'd use Memorial Drive and add the Memorial Loop for mileage. I'm not going to chance it. If my experience in just a one mile stretch of Memorial on a Sunday morning was any indication of what I can expect in that area, I'll pass. I'm no match for 2 wheels and a helmet flying down the sidewalk. In a matter of moments, my running days and possibly my career...crap, my life could be over. These thoughtless bullies can have the sidewalk. I'll stick to the trails.
©Michelle Scofield, November 3, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Showing posts with label etiquette. Show all posts
Showing posts with label etiquette. Show all posts
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Icy
Hal Higdon's Novice 1 Marathon Training Schedule: Week 1, Day 3
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 122
Planned activity: 3 mile run
Completed 3.02 in 35:04
Time and Temp: 5:00am 73 degrees
I'm typing while my foot rests on an ice bag. It doesn't hurt because I finished my run. It only hurts when I've been still for any prolonged period of time. It feels pretty good when I move. The problem is that I can't be in perpetual motion and I know that as I bump up the miles it's likely to get worse. I have an appointment to see the fabulous Dr. William M. Jones next week. It's the soonest I can get in. In the meantime, I'm going to keep my mileage relatively low and my surfaces flat. I'll ice and take rest days.
This is as good as I can do people. My name is Michelle and I am an addict.
On another front but I think (also) needing ice as a response:
Let your imagination tackle this B.S. situation:
Suppose a person entered a lunchroom full of people and was greeted with this:
"Michelle, can you do me a favor?"
"Sure? What do you need?"
"Could you please eat a sandwich? You're wasting away!"
W. T. F.
I've worked so hard to lose the pounds I put on when I was out of commission exercise-wise. I've struggled with my food issues. I've SWEATED and I've cried. I've faced my demons. What if a person had to deal with this shit at work? From a higher-up? Sure, maybe it got a laugh but maybe that laugh was gained at the cost of the inner embarrassment of someone who has dealt with food issues her entire adult life. Sure maybe the butt of the joke might need thicker skin but isn't work supposed to be a safe place?
Isn't it enough to be a stranger (Democrat) in a strange (Republican) land? Divorced in the land of the married? Now to be called out for this? For being healthy and thin? Let's just call a spade a spade. "You're different. You're not like us. We're going to make you feel like an outcast no matter how we have to do it." That's how it feels.
I'm a size 10-12. I'm not rail-thin. I'm not super-skinny. I was FAT before I took charge of my out of control self.
My response? Just a look. My best friend's proposed response? Not printable. I love him but if I followed his advice I wouldn't have the funds to pay entry fees for races nor would we be able to finance our mutual travel addiction. Some things are best met with icy stares.
Anyway...That's my rant of the day.
©Michelle Scofield, September 12, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, September 1, 2012
I Come From Another Place
Dancing last night with J. We used to go about once a month or so but things happen and it's been a long time. Broken feet happen. Babies happen. Bad bands happen. We got out of the groove. Don't get me wrong. J and I never lose our grooves. We're just too damned groovy to lose our groove.
Our old routine went like this: We'd order dinner (lots of chips and salsa) and talk about our families and our jobs. We'd catch up on news about the old gang. We'd share a pitcher of margaritas or have a couple of martinis each. We'd commiserate about the political and social atmosphere of our nation. Then we'd move on to the dancing venue.
Our new routine goes like this. We go to dinner and talk about our families and our jobs. We catch up on any news about the old gang - there's not much anymore. We might have coffee. We rarely have alcohol at dinner. We commiserate about the political and social atmosphere of our nation. If we're both feeling good and we can find anywhere to dance, we move on to that place. If not, we call it a night and go our separate ways. Last night, we felt great and we had a plan.
The lights were low, the wood paneling was dark, and the band was playing when we entered the room. The music ran all the way through rock and blues to salsa and hiphop. Several couples were already on the dance floor and we found a table not too far away. It didn't take long before the first drive by occurred. A man circled our table and didn't stop. We were being checked out. I asked J if she'd seen him. She hadn't. She never does. It's something I like about her. She's there for the music. I've seen her dance alone many more times than with a partner.
We were served way-too-expensive cocktails and soon were dancing with numerous and varied partners. I feel lucky that I was asked to dance by a man who happened to be quite good at East Coast Swing and I'm not sure if he had as much fun if I did, but I had a blast. It's rare to find anyone who knows how to dance that style these days, let alone is a strong but not painful lead. During a mamba, I feared one older gentleman was having some sort of cardiac event, as evidenced by his profuse perspiration and the way he was mopping his brow with cocktail napkins. I asked him if he wanted to sit down but he insisted on dancing on. We danced on.
You'd think all this would be entertainment enough. But wait. There's more. Another girlfriend arrived. I hadn't seen her in months. Now picture this. Three women. One tall drop-dead gorgeous African-American, one Midwestern brunette, and one tall West-coast looking blonde. 3 women out on the town, dancing with any man who asks, buying their own drinks. What happens during the band breaks? Just this.
A man walks over, sits down at our table and says, "So what's the story here?" He went on to tell two of us that he thought we were quite stunning but "not your blonde friend" - gesturing at her with a shoulder shrug. He turned his body away from her, oh-so-slightly excluding her from his conversation. He actually insulted her, not once, but twice right in front of us. I think he saw her talking to someone and immediately decided she was interested in that person so he didn't have a shot with her. I'm not sure, but his approach was, um, interesting. He went on to tell us that the "guys at the bar" had been talking about us and there was money riding on him coming over and finding out our story...where were we from, how did we know each other, etc. He said he might not be very elegant in his questioning because he "came from another place". Ah! That's it. He asked where I came from. I told him, I also came from another place. Kansas in Truthistan.
Now, know this. The entire time I was talking to him, I was smiling. I was charming. I was Charm School charming. I let him tell us his story about the bar bet and then I leaned forward and told him it wasn't very nice, what he said - twice - to my friend. I continued to smile while I said it. He kept smiling and he shook my hand. He stood and he left.
Best part of the evening. As soon as he left, another man slid right into his seat. My girlfriends and I just cracked up. Poor guy. What was this? Was someone giving out numbers for that booth position?
I don't want anyone to get the idea that we're three women who go out on a mission to mess with men. We don't. It's quite the opposite. We all had a great time and I think the people we danced with did, too. We aren't out to hook up. We aren't out to take advantage. We're just out being humans, enjoying the music. Mr. Swing Dancer was kind enough to tell me of some places I didn't know about where I might run into some other dance-lovers my age. I'll check them out. In the meantime, I'll keep planning dinners with my girlfriends and remembering where I come from. Truthistan, the land of smiling honesty.
©Michelle Scofield, September 1, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Our old routine went like this: We'd order dinner (lots of chips and salsa) and talk about our families and our jobs. We'd catch up on news about the old gang. We'd share a pitcher of margaritas or have a couple of martinis each. We'd commiserate about the political and social atmosphere of our nation. Then we'd move on to the dancing venue.
Our new routine goes like this. We go to dinner and talk about our families and our jobs. We catch up on any news about the old gang - there's not much anymore. We might have coffee. We rarely have alcohol at dinner. We commiserate about the political and social atmosphere of our nation. If we're both feeling good and we can find anywhere to dance, we move on to that place. If not, we call it a night and go our separate ways. Last night, we felt great and we had a plan.
The lights were low, the wood paneling was dark, and the band was playing when we entered the room. The music ran all the way through rock and blues to salsa and hiphop. Several couples were already on the dance floor and we found a table not too far away. It didn't take long before the first drive by occurred. A man circled our table and didn't stop. We were being checked out. I asked J if she'd seen him. She hadn't. She never does. It's something I like about her. She's there for the music. I've seen her dance alone many more times than with a partner.
We were served way-too-expensive cocktails and soon were dancing with numerous and varied partners. I feel lucky that I was asked to dance by a man who happened to be quite good at East Coast Swing and I'm not sure if he had as much fun if I did, but I had a blast. It's rare to find anyone who knows how to dance that style these days, let alone is a strong but not painful lead. During a mamba, I feared one older gentleman was having some sort of cardiac event, as evidenced by his profuse perspiration and the way he was mopping his brow with cocktail napkins. I asked him if he wanted to sit down but he insisted on dancing on. We danced on.
You'd think all this would be entertainment enough. But wait. There's more. Another girlfriend arrived. I hadn't seen her in months. Now picture this. Three women. One tall drop-dead gorgeous African-American, one Midwestern brunette, and one tall West-coast looking blonde. 3 women out on the town, dancing with any man who asks, buying their own drinks. What happens during the band breaks? Just this.
A man walks over, sits down at our table and says, "So what's the story here?" He went on to tell two of us that he thought we were quite stunning but "not your blonde friend" - gesturing at her with a shoulder shrug. He turned his body away from her, oh-so-slightly excluding her from his conversation. He actually insulted her, not once, but twice right in front of us. I think he saw her talking to someone and immediately decided she was interested in that person so he didn't have a shot with her. I'm not sure, but his approach was, um, interesting. He went on to tell us that the "guys at the bar" had been talking about us and there was money riding on him coming over and finding out our story...where were we from, how did we know each other, etc. He said he might not be very elegant in his questioning because he "came from another place". Ah! That's it. He asked where I came from. I told him, I also came from another place. Kansas in Truthistan.
Now, know this. The entire time I was talking to him, I was smiling. I was charming. I was Charm School charming. I let him tell us his story about the bar bet and then I leaned forward and told him it wasn't very nice, what he said - twice - to my friend. I continued to smile while I said it. He kept smiling and he shook my hand. He stood and he left.
Best part of the evening. As soon as he left, another man slid right into his seat. My girlfriends and I just cracked up. Poor guy. What was this? Was someone giving out numbers for that booth position?
I don't want anyone to get the idea that we're three women who go out on a mission to mess with men. We don't. It's quite the opposite. We all had a great time and I think the people we danced with did, too. We aren't out to hook up. We aren't out to take advantage. We're just out being humans, enjoying the music. Mr. Swing Dancer was kind enough to tell me of some places I didn't know about where I might run into some other dance-lovers my age. I'll check them out. In the meantime, I'll keep planning dinners with my girlfriends and remembering where I come from. Truthistan, the land of smiling honesty.
©Michelle Scofield, September 1, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Does Your Wife Know You're Here?
Another etiquette post? Isn't that a bit much? Might I be hitting the rules thing with more vigor than is considered comfortable in polite company? Ah, I do apologize for my enthusiasm around this topic, but it's on my mind.
My training schedule called for forty minutes of crosstraining. What better than dancing? I met my friend for dinner (yes, I had the grilled fish and veggies) and an adult beverage (no, I'm not a saint) and we made our way to our favorite dancing spot.
Upon paying the cover charge and entering the room, we were pleased to hear the band playing Motown. That meant we'd spend more time on the dance floor than in our chairs. Last week the band was not good and certainly not playing anything much worth dancing to. We situated ourselves at a table, left our wraps to claim our spots and began to enjoy the evening.
When the two of us (both female) go out together, we may dance with each other, we may dance with a man or two, but mostly we're just out to dance. It's fun, we like the music and we enjoy the exercise. Most of the time it's just a nice, care-free, evening. Sometimes, there are drunks who get a little pushy. We deal with that, like ladies. This isn't what I'm writing about this morning.
We'd been dancing for about a half hour and decided to take a break, having just returned to our seats, when I noticed many people around us looking toward the other side of the room. That's never a good thing in a bar. Yeah, a woman was on the floor. She wasn't getting up. I told my friend I'd see what was going on and I walked over to the small circle of security guards and club management that was surrounding her. The woman was conscious and moving by then. I ascertained from the manager that EMS had been called (she apparently hadn't even started drinking yet, so she certainly needed to be checked out). I let him know that I was medically trained and available if he needed me and I backed away, back to my chair. I watched from that distance as she was walked out of the club. I didn't give it much more thought.
More dancing, another drink. It was time for a Ladies' Room break. As I walked toward the door, a man reached out and touched my elbow. "Are you medical?"
I stopped to answer his question. I told him I was, so was he. He'd noticed me checking out the situation earlier. He's a radiologist and as luck would have it quite attractive, near my age and charming. We talked for a few minutes. He paid me a compliment on my willingness to help a stranger earlier and asked if I would help him if he developed symptoms right then. "If I fell down right now, would you come to my aid?" I told him I probably would, but I know I flirty line when I hear one. He laughed and said that would be one way to get a kiss from such a pretty woman. Wow, this guy was pouring it on thick, but...he was attractive...we had something in common...
I still needed to get to the loo. I reached out my right hand, introduced myself and told him it was nice to meet him. Then I reached for his left hand. I knew it. Gold wedding band. You know...I just turned and walked away.
His attractiveness level plummeted from about an eight to a minus four. You can't come back from a minus four. It's just plain rude to flirt so blatantly when you're married. It's not rude to the target of your flirtation. It's rude to your wife. Someone should teach that somewhere. Manners matter.
My training schedule called for forty minutes of crosstraining. What better than dancing? I met my friend for dinner (yes, I had the grilled fish and veggies) and an adult beverage (no, I'm not a saint) and we made our way to our favorite dancing spot.
Upon paying the cover charge and entering the room, we were pleased to hear the band playing Motown. That meant we'd spend more time on the dance floor than in our chairs. Last week the band was not good and certainly not playing anything much worth dancing to. We situated ourselves at a table, left our wraps to claim our spots and began to enjoy the evening.
When the two of us (both female) go out together, we may dance with each other, we may dance with a man or two, but mostly we're just out to dance. It's fun, we like the music and we enjoy the exercise. Most of the time it's just a nice, care-free, evening. Sometimes, there are drunks who get a little pushy. We deal with that, like ladies. This isn't what I'm writing about this morning.
We'd been dancing for about a half hour and decided to take a break, having just returned to our seats, when I noticed many people around us looking toward the other side of the room. That's never a good thing in a bar. Yeah, a woman was on the floor. She wasn't getting up. I told my friend I'd see what was going on and I walked over to the small circle of security guards and club management that was surrounding her. The woman was conscious and moving by then. I ascertained from the manager that EMS had been called (she apparently hadn't even started drinking yet, so she certainly needed to be checked out). I let him know that I was medically trained and available if he needed me and I backed away, back to my chair. I watched from that distance as she was walked out of the club. I didn't give it much more thought.
More dancing, another drink. It was time for a Ladies' Room break. As I walked toward the door, a man reached out and touched my elbow. "Are you medical?"
I stopped to answer his question. I told him I was, so was he. He'd noticed me checking out the situation earlier. He's a radiologist and as luck would have it quite attractive, near my age and charming. We talked for a few minutes. He paid me a compliment on my willingness to help a stranger earlier and asked if I would help him if he developed symptoms right then. "If I fell down right now, would you come to my aid?" I told him I probably would, but I know I flirty line when I hear one. He laughed and said that would be one way to get a kiss from such a pretty woman. Wow, this guy was pouring it on thick, but...he was attractive...we had something in common...
I still needed to get to the loo. I reached out my right hand, introduced myself and told him it was nice to meet him. Then I reached for his left hand. I knew it. Gold wedding band. You know...I just turned and walked away.
His attractiveness level plummeted from about an eight to a minus four. You can't come back from a minus four. It's just plain rude to flirt so blatantly when you're married. It's not rude to the target of your flirtation. It's rude to your wife. Someone should teach that somewhere. Manners matter.
Friday, November 27, 2009
I Love Babies and Dogs - I Promise.
It took over 24 hours to find the times posted for the 17th Annual Sheltering Arms Turkey Trot. Initially, only clock times came up and I was disappointed to see mine at 1:07:23. A couple hours later the chip times came up and I was listed at 1:05:46. That was what I thought I ran, so I was happy to see it.
In the time I was waiting for the times to post, I logged onto active.com and watched the comments start to come in. The negative feedback far outweighed the positive around the race and honestly, I agreed with most of it.
The organizers obviously weren't prepared for the large crowd, or they didn't seem to be. The pace markers at the starting line were set very close together and we couldn't hear the announcer. Chip collection at the finish was immediately after we crossed over the line and created a bit of a bottleneck at that point.
But the real problems, the REAL problems...
...walkers, and strollers, and pets, oh my!
Sure, it's a great morning for families to get out and enjoy time together, but for the love of all that's good and safe, get the heck out of the front of the pack and get out of the way! There is no reason on earth that people who are walking need to be standing in the 8, 9, 10, even 11 minutes/mile sections. They're in the way and they're dangerous. Thousands of people were trying to take off and run yesterday morning and they had to navigate past toddlers, people pushing strollers and even dogs on leashes. Not cool, not cute, not sweet. Not. Not. Not.
I know some will say we're grouchy. Some will say we're not friendly. Too freaking bad. I'd rather be grouchy about this than grouchy about a sprained (or broken) ankle on one of us. I'd rather not accidentally knock over your little darling. I like kids, I really do. It would ruin the day for all of us if someone was injured. It's just common sense. You're slower, you don't need to be in the front. Is this that difficult?
Good. Thanks. See you at the next event. Have a great day - and give your kids and dogs a hug from Auntie Michelle.
In the time I was waiting for the times to post, I logged onto active.com and watched the comments start to come in. The negative feedback far outweighed the positive around the race and honestly, I agreed with most of it.
The organizers obviously weren't prepared for the large crowd, or they didn't seem to be. The pace markers at the starting line were set very close together and we couldn't hear the announcer. Chip collection at the finish was immediately after we crossed over the line and created a bit of a bottleneck at that point.
But the real problems, the REAL problems...
...walkers, and strollers, and pets, oh my!
Sure, it's a great morning for families to get out and enjoy time together, but for the love of all that's good and safe, get the heck out of the front of the pack and get out of the way! There is no reason on earth that people who are walking need to be standing in the 8, 9, 10, even 11 minutes/mile sections. They're in the way and they're dangerous. Thousands of people were trying to take off and run yesterday morning and they had to navigate past toddlers, people pushing strollers and even dogs on leashes. Not cool, not cute, not sweet. Not. Not. Not.
I know some will say we're grouchy. Some will say we're not friendly. Too freaking bad. I'd rather be grouchy about this than grouchy about a sprained (or broken) ankle on one of us. I'd rather not accidentally knock over your little darling. I like kids, I really do. It would ruin the day for all of us if someone was injured. It's just common sense. You're slower, you don't need to be in the front. Is this that difficult?
Good. Thanks. See you at the next event. Have a great day - and give your kids and dogs a hug from Auntie Michelle.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Loose Dogs
Distance: 3 miles
Start time: 9:28 am
Run Duration: 30 minutes
Average Pace: 10.00 minutes/mile
Temperature: 53 degrees
Humidity: 80%
Location: Memorial Park, Houston, TX
Just a quick rant. Loose dogs really piss me off. I don't feel safe running in my neighborhood because of them. We have loose lab mixes, loose pit bulls, etc. My theory is that people dump them here and then they breed and then they pack and then they will attack me and I'll die or be maimed and some newbie plastic surgeon who didn't train with the plastic surgeons I know will put me back together again in all the wrong Humpty Dumpty ways. I'll be scrambled.
Yesterday and again today I saw a dog off-leash in Memorial Park. The stupid owner was yelling at it to "Come on, Sweetie! Come back!" The dog was about 20 yards from the owner both times, running through the trees on the dirt trail. I don't give a rat's ass, dog's tail, or whatever anatomy you want to bet how perfectly trained the owner believes her dog is trained. There is a leash law for a reason. Runners may trip on the dog. Other dogs may freak out. Or her little "Sweetie" may just show some aberrant behavior. Stupid.
I guess I've had enough experience with loose dogs recently to make me more than a little testy. Ooohhh. Is she speaking metaphorically? Perhaps.
Start time: 9:28 am
Run Duration: 30 minutes
Average Pace: 10.00 minutes/mile
Temperature: 53 degrees
Humidity: 80%
Location: Memorial Park, Houston, TX
Just a quick rant. Loose dogs really piss me off. I don't feel safe running in my neighborhood because of them. We have loose lab mixes, loose pit bulls, etc. My theory is that people dump them here and then they breed and then they pack and then they will attack me and I'll die or be maimed and some newbie plastic surgeon who didn't train with the plastic surgeons I know will put me back together again in all the wrong Humpty Dumpty ways. I'll be scrambled.
Yesterday and again today I saw a dog off-leash in Memorial Park. The stupid owner was yelling at it to "Come on, Sweetie! Come back!" The dog was about 20 yards from the owner both times, running through the trees on the dirt trail. I don't give a rat's ass, dog's tail, or whatever anatomy you want to bet how perfectly trained the owner believes her dog is trained. There is a leash law for a reason. Runners may trip on the dog. Other dogs may freak out. Or her little "Sweetie" may just show some aberrant behavior. Stupid.
I guess I've had enough experience with loose dogs recently to make me more than a little testy. Ooohhh. Is she speaking metaphorically? Perhaps.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Miss(ed) Manners
Distance: 3 miles
Start time: 8:30 am
Run Duration: 31 minutes
Pace: 10.33 minutes/mile
Temperature: 83 degrees
Humidity: 67%
Location: Rice University Track, Houston
Yesterday's clinic brought one tragedy after another and I felt used up. I was happy to meet friends for sashimi and a movie and I fell into bed, knowing that I should set the alarm in order to beat this morning's heat. I didn't. I woke at 7:30 and decided that traffic would be too daunting at Memorial. Besides, I was done with people. I'd had enough interacting. Rice seemed to be a better choice for a more solitary run.
I tuned into NPR to listen to the news because I haven't taken time to download any new instrumental stuff. That's a goal for this week. No words. No memories. Not right now.
The Rice path is only wide enough for 3 walkers/runners abreast. I'm not sure why people don't fall back (if they're walking or running in a group of 3) and make room for an approaching runner. What's happened to manners? Is there some sort of strength in numbers? It's only common sense, isn't it?
There were so few people on the path that it wasn't a case of crowding. I see this often. I see it happen to other people. It's not just me. It happens to bicyclists on the road, too. There, the safety issue is magnified.
This morning a couple was approaching me from the opposite direction and would need to pass a man who was also running toward me. Rather than wait for the man and I to pass each other, the couple kept running (side-by-side) and edged me off the path. I really don't get it.
Anyway...
Better things about this morning: A man rode by on a bike. It was an old fashioned Schwinn. Baskets in the front and back, all decked out with flowers. I shouted out to him. "Beautiful!" He smiled, waved, and kept on riding.
NPR reported on Fred Hersch and his return after battling AIDS. It's an inspiring story.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=106979404
Today's run felt good. I'm going to use it to remind myself to do what's right, to treat others how I want to be treated and to keep what's really important in front of me at all times.
Start time: 8:30 am
Run Duration: 31 minutes
Pace: 10.33 minutes/mile
Temperature: 83 degrees
Humidity: 67%
Location: Rice University Track, Houston
Yesterday's clinic brought one tragedy after another and I felt used up. I was happy to meet friends for sashimi and a movie and I fell into bed, knowing that I should set the alarm in order to beat this morning's heat. I didn't. I woke at 7:30 and decided that traffic would be too daunting at Memorial. Besides, I was done with people. I'd had enough interacting. Rice seemed to be a better choice for a more solitary run.
I tuned into NPR to listen to the news because I haven't taken time to download any new instrumental stuff. That's a goal for this week. No words. No memories. Not right now.
The Rice path is only wide enough for 3 walkers/runners abreast. I'm not sure why people don't fall back (if they're walking or running in a group of 3) and make room for an approaching runner. What's happened to manners? Is there some sort of strength in numbers? It's only common sense, isn't it?
There were so few people on the path that it wasn't a case of crowding. I see this often. I see it happen to other people. It's not just me. It happens to bicyclists on the road, too. There, the safety issue is magnified.
This morning a couple was approaching me from the opposite direction and would need to pass a man who was also running toward me. Rather than wait for the man and I to pass each other, the couple kept running (side-by-side) and edged me off the path. I really don't get it.
Anyway...
Better things about this morning: A man rode by on a bike. It was an old fashioned Schwinn. Baskets in the front and back, all decked out with flowers. I shouted out to him. "Beautiful!" He smiled, waved, and kept on riding.
NPR reported on Fred Hersch and his return after battling AIDS. It's an inspiring story.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=106979404
Today's run felt good. I'm going to use it to remind myself to do what's right, to treat others how I want to be treated and to keep what's really important in front of me at all times.
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