Every morning, before the sun is up when I go out to run, the designated doorman never fails to say, be safe.
He knows I’m headed to the park oblivious to the navy sky I’m about to jog under.
What he doesn’t realize is what he doesn’t see, and that’s a cluster of others getting their miles in before work either on foot, bike or toe.
I always start with a modest stretch before beginning, tossing in a set of back push-ups since, after all, soon it will be sleeveless season, watching runners gallop by like thoroughbreds.
How happy they look, as if, any moment they’ll liftoff, just loving the fact they’re there, hugged by Central Park in all her pre-dawn glory.
I watch the light change slowly, steadily as if it were on a dimmer switch, when suddenly, boom…there it is…
AND THEN THERE WAS LIGHT
The squirrels are suddenly there to keep you company as you coast down Harlem Hill. And what about the daffodils sprinkled like flutes…yellow missionaries reminding you, spring is on her way.
It’s interesting how rarely you hear the words, be safe, during the day when just as much could happen. But at 6 a. m. in the heart of such wilderness, it’s truly, the last thing you think about as you rush into her waiting arms.