I don’t really belong to any sort of “runners” community, but I do see regulars on their circuits. I call them by their distinguishable traits. Some are runners, some are just everyday people, like the “dog walker with long brown hair” or the “adorable Hispanic couple” or the “smoking barber” or the “mother with three kids.” The runners are more distinguishable by particular traits, like “Nike Shoes” or “Crew Cut” or Short Shorts” or “No Shirt.” Simple identifications exist for these regulars, and yet I don’t even know their names.
Wake up late, eat some cereal out of the box and surf the web.
Take the train to work – long and uneventful.
Stop off for a coffee and orange juice.
Arrive at work fifteen minutes late, right as the bell starts ticking.
Call the man who replaces lost ID cards, and go during lunch to get it.
Pick up lunch during the one moment it decides to downpour.
Work like normal until 6:40pm.
Talk to a friend in D.C., on layover to Kentucky.
Stand on the train next to various regular people:
the hot girl with short, brown hair,
the seasonal hot girl with luscious features, and
the Asian man.
Purchase detergent and orange juice from the bodega and say ‘what’s up’ to the owner.
Unpack and change to go to the gym.
Bring laundry, and fill three machines.
Use the nautilus equipment for forearms, chest, upper back, legs, and abs.
Go to the apartment with minutes left to pick up dryer sheets.
Come back to the gym and change the laundry.
Run on the elliptical machine for 35 minutes, listening to the wonders of ‘Breakbeat Science Exercise 4’.
Go to the side room and stretch.
Walk to the bodega with minutes left and buy a sports drink and energy bar.
Fold laundry, bag it, tag it, and take it home.
Surf the web and watch the ending of The Beatles movie “A Hard Days Night”.