I ditched most of my workouts last week due to a nagging end-of-the-summer cold. The paranoid part of myself thinks that the mosquito which bit me the week before gave me the West Nile Virus. The logical part of myself believes that my post-race recovery somewhat weakened my immune system after the Nike 10K Run Hit Wonder on 9/23/05.
It has been hard to sleep. I'm tired of coughing. The show must go on; so, in order to not loose what I've worked so hard to attain, I headed out this morning at 6:30 a.m. for what I now call my Sunday long run up to and through Marquette Park. It was 55 degrees outside and the sun was just coming up. Autumn mornings. A "Dry Fit" shirt that is amazing. A portable CD player that does not skip (yet). The turn onto 67th Street that leads to the park. Air filling my worn lungs. Out of nowhere, the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies fills the air. Keep running because that is what you're here for. Scattered morning greetings to the familiar faces that I have encountered since I began this route back in early August. Smiling faces of different colors. The older Hispanic man. The African-American woman who walks with a big stick and shly says hello. The seasoned runner who once said, "good pace." The glasses-wearing gentleman who I pass right around 7:00 a.m. who is training for the Chicago Marathon. How can I tell? You just can ... from his form, the t-shirts he wears, his seriousness ... but he always raises his hand to say his hello. We are this odd community of runners who meet once a week in the fabled park that Dr. Martin Luther King once marched through ... if he were to see this diversity, he'd realize that his dream is coming true.
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