running

There is something invigorating about running through Rock Creek Park on a winter Saturday morning when the sky is Mediterranean sea blue with a few ripples of clouds. The trees have lost many of their orange and yellow leaves that lie in piles on the grass. S. and I ran on the wooded path along the stream for an hour this morning. We passed bikers and runners with winter hats and pink cheeks. We talked about the photography business she’s launching in January and how she felt both liberated and conflicted to give notice after working hard for someone for four years. We talked about a ski trip we’re planning for February and how we can’t wait to see the mountains. We talked about the books we’re reading and how they affect our day-to-day emotions (“Straight Man” by Richard Russo and “What is the What” by David Egger). At the end of our run when we reached her condominium building, we hugged goodbye and made plans to go to a mutual friend’s 30th birthday party together tonight. I ran on to Tryst and bought a chai. In the bustling coffee shop, two women hugged each other hello, a couple cuddled on a couch, a man with art house glasses typed on his laptop and another man sat on a stool at the bar reading the Washington Post. These people are part of my community. With the sweet rich chai in hand, flushed cheeks and tension relieved from my body, I feel amazing.

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