I meant to go for a slow short run last night. Just something to make me forget about pausing the tv to run out for a smoke. I went over to the river and headed north. In the distance I saw the green bridge to Randall's Island and decided to go see it for the first time. The first ten minutes were pretty. Then it got weird.
View of the Triboro from Randall's Island |
I ran back over the bridge and headed north. I had guzzled a lot of water by then and my bladder was displeased, but I knew I needed to keep moving. My lungs felt clear and I wasn't tired. My pace had slowed to 7'45" miles, but my legs felt fine.
It was getting dark by the time I reached 125th Street and some older men were smoking and chatting. I used to work in an unsavory neighborhood in the Bronx and I admit this has affected my gauge of dangerous situations. Although I wasn't scared I figured I should turn back before it got completely dark.
Running back towards the apartment. |
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