Hitting The Corner
I typically see a couple of other folks braving the wee hours of the morning. You know, paying the man. But not that morning. I was the only idiot on the block.
7AM, facing a dozen kids waiting for the school bus.
Not where I wanted to be. It's been a while since I braved that corner.
I've long gotten used to pushing weight alone in the basement and did not want to be out there. It's cold as fuck.
But there I was, dressed in all black, hoping to stay warm as the sun inched into the sky. Every now and then, a car would hesitate to make the turn at one of the two corners I'd pace at. I'd waive them on.
I'm not crossing; I'm just trying to get my heart rate down.
Occasionally, I'd take my effort to the street to leave room for neighbors just trying to walk their dogs along the sidewalk. I don't need to scare some old lady with the sounds of my labored steps in her ear.
Those kids at the bus stop? Looking and whispering. How many of your parents would be willing to be out here and put in some work? Throw caution to the wind and run it!
Turns out, none.
At least not the time. I typically see a couple of other folks braving the wee hours of the morning. You know, paying the man. But not that morning. I was the only idiot on the block.
Running from corner to corner.
Gasping for breath during 90-second rests.
Ten rounds of 100-meter sprints.
At 28º 🥶
Damn these corners.
