Temperatures are dropping, the winds are gathering, and the exercise bug has bit me yet again. I hope the poison lasts this time. As long as my legs don't give up and creepy men lazing around the sidewalks (plenty of them here) don't start memorizing my schedule, I'm sure the habit will stick.
Tonight's jog was pretty good. The wind was just right, the shadows were free from lurkers, John Rzeznik was singing so beautifully in my ear, some crazy Chinese guy was zooming around in a kid's mini-motorcycle and a little boy was quietly sitting with his dad while the latter smoked his lungs out. Okay, the last one wasn't good, but for irony's sake, it was worth a mention. Adorable and abhorrent at the same time.
I'm finding it quite therapeutic, this developing nightly habit. It feels good not to think about anything else except how to breath.
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