Monday, December 23, 2013

Jogging Barefoot in Central Park

I awoke early as I often do and left everyone asleep in the room, took the elevator down to the lobby and crossed the street in the predawn for a jog through Central Park.
The summer air was brisk and the wide expanses of grass were coated in dew.  Huffers and puffers passed in their own trots... lost in thought about the day they were going to have.  I won't lie... me to.
How F.A.O. Schwartz was right across the street... and Captain America awaits!

How Robbie Burns appears to be everywhere on my travels.  This guy really got around, huh?
When suddenly I came upon a pair of two men jogging barefoot along the main route through the park.  I stopped to stretch beside a metal bench, watching them, panting and trodding along... neither speaking, just head down like heavy hoofed horses plodding forward.  I thought about those men for a long time, day after day jogging barefoot through this historic park.  As the portrait artists set up their canvas easels and the booksellers arrived to stock their apple box shelves... those two barefoot joggers... going about their business as if time had stood still.
I was right, the day was full of joy and laughter and stress and tension...and unbelievably funny things... buying an ice cream cone for Xian and it dropping on the concrete moments later... ducking in a doorway to wait out a fast moving thunderstorm, an enormous life-sized stuffed panda bear for five thousand dollars...a black ant in my bowl of soup and a mildly apologetic waiter... a bourgeois woman in diamonds chatting me up outside a deli restroom... we were both wearing sunglasses indoors.... but all the while I kept thinking about those barefoot joggers.  Man, the stuff those guys have seen!

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