I ran for a long time on a dirt road by the boat club. Along the narrow, crumbly road that descends from the paved bike path to the dirt road hugging the river, I saw clumps of ferns at least a foot high.
On the dirt road were just a few people - some runners, a few folks with fishing rods - and I soaked up solitude like a big happy sponge. The silver rowing boats stacked on a portable shelving unit by the main building were long and thin as needles ready to slice through waves in the next morning practice.
Turned around and headed back, and after a short while I felt the thirst creeping up. I slurped the last bead of water from my bottle and thought of options. I don't know of any fountains near that area. I considered the ol' suck it up approach but my energy was waning, so I detoured from the home stretch and headed to the market. Slipped inside the main building and filled up the water bottle. Gulped it down and went for a refill! After capping the bottle and wading through the madding crowds to the canal, I felt my life force return. 22k.
~ In memory of Margot ~
1 comment:
Ah, I picture that route (and the tempting snacks in that market building) so clearly! It must have been a fine run.
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