Running home with Andrew Jackson

I’m running along Spaight street, on the return half of my route.  I just turned down the volume on my ipod because while the deafening songs are loud enough to mute the pain of my first run of 2010, I worry about permanent hearing damage.  (Perhaps this is what it means to be in your 30s.)  I can finally hear myself breathing again, and I am acutely aware of the heaviness of my body.

Don’t stop.  Keep going.  Don’t stop.  Keep going.  I don’t have the energy for other thoughts.

Until, suddenly, I STOP IMMEDIATELY.  I look down at what lies in the snow at my feet with disbelief.  Then, guilt.  I look around to see who it could belong to and see no one.  Just empty gray streets covered in white ice at dusk.  I pick up the two $20 bills, pump my arms in the air, and then start running again.

I am grateful for my most lucrative run ever.   What a way to kick off 2010.



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