On my own

This morning Zdenek pulled the classic pm/am alarm mix-up, and though it meant we got an extra hour of much-needed rest, it also meant that cycling was out of the question and I was flying solo for the morning. By the time I finished my cup of coffee and caught up on the morning’s email, however, it was raining hard and steady outside of my window. Unperturbed, I changed into my running clothes and hoped that the downpour might taper off a bit before I reached the Park -- I certainly wasn’t going to allow a little water to ruin my morning fun.

Unfortunately, the rain never really let up, and though it sometimes turned to a drizzle, it just as often came down in hard sheets. I plodded along, squishing water between my socks and shoes and occasionally slowing to wring out my shirt. But beyond those minor inconveniences, it was one of the most peaceful and relaxing runs I can remember in some time. The Park was virtually deserted: I passed less than ten other runners on my six mile loop, and for the first 15 minutes of my run, I don’t think I saw another soul. I ran in silence, sometimes avoiding puddles and sometimes splashing right through them, looking out onto the rare sight of a clear road ahead.

I find it amusing (and somewhat pathetic) that so many tough New Yorkers would let a little rain scare them away from a morning run, but I’m also thankful for their lack of determination. This morning I was grateful to have over 800 acres almost entirely to myself, and happy to enjoy a moment of solitude in a city where such escapes are hard to come by.