Despite the horrors of COVID-19 ravaging New York City, I still, every day go for my morning run…more of a grace than I can say.
Marc from sorryless.com had asked me to share what I think about during my run. At the time, I gave him a virtual shrug, thinking, gee…I dunno, not much, but then decided to pay more attention.
For starters, the moment I hit the air, my spirits rise. It’s dark, only a few other runners far and wide, with the moon to keep us company.
I briskly walk the four blocks to Fifth entering the Park on 91st. I’ll see the same Waspy woman with Betsy, her little mutt/mix, already coming back, along with a very fit Nigerian man, stretching, something I marvel at, since it’s barely 6 a.m..
Mustn’t forget the girl in the box, still sleeping as I pass, making the familiar, for better or worse, comforting during this very surreal time.
Running north, picking up speed, passing the outdoor hospital on my right that one now expects, I silently pray for the sick and their noble caretakers soldiering on.
The light, about to break, beckons me to continue towards 110th, a mile of road I omit when it’s still too dark. I’ll remember the Central Park jogger who didn’t make the same decision, but today, tag along with a group of four, running six feet apart.
It’s been raining, so the air smells sweet, while the trees glisten, looking like they’ve just stepped from the shower.
Squirrels gallop between daffodils that since yesterday, have perked up, the rain refreshing their stems.
I know how they feel, my hair, now damp, brushed back by a gentle wind.
A raccoon tap dances across the road.
A hawk sits on a lamp post keeping her eye on things.
Coming down the hill, circling the West Side, I wave to a neighbor, then yoga boy in Warrior Pose and a man with a pit, called Apollo.
These sights reassure me that life continues, as I make my way around to the the Park’s cutoff that will lead me home.
The Irish Setters, Bud and Lou, run to greet me, while their master, never very friendly, now smiles since our crisis began.
I think how strange and sad, that it took hundreds of lives to humble thousands of New Yorkers, not to mention everyone in our wounded world, but then, like the daffodils, perk up, finding myself in front of 1040 Fifth, Jackie’s old building thinking, how great it would be to see her in one of her turtlenecks and sunglasses, along with John walking his dog, Friday.
My reverie continues, grateful to have been in Nature’s care, restored, to make it through one more day as that gentle wind whispers, this too shall pass.
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves.
My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.