A little run

I could hear the wind howling as I lay in the pre-dawn darkness of my bedroom under my covers, and felt my house shaking as the wind gusts buffeted it.  I had run two kilometers the day before in my attempt to return to running, and I almost succumbed to my inner urgings telling me to not run back-to-back days.

But I got out of my warm bed, put on my running togs and left the house as the sky started lightening with the dawn.  It was cold outside but I was warm enough at the start with three layers on so I knew that I was foolishly overdressed.  Still, I wasn't going far so I figured it wouldn't matter too much, except that I stupidly didn't bring gloves so my hands were frozen throughout the slow, loping mile and a half run.

The sky was streaked with colors as it often is at that time of the morning.  I occupied my mind, as I tried to ignore my labored breathing, with reflecting on signs that I passed along the way.  One roadside yard sign sarcastically told me to slow down, please, while another storefront sign mocked me with the name of the establishment, Jimmy John's, also the names of my two oldest children who have been long-estranged from me, and the sign on its door, Fresher Faster, seemed to be urging me to get a move on.

Then I finally arrived at my destination via my circuitous route, the McDonald's restaurant up the street on the corner just past the Stop sign, where I indeed stopped and went inside for my morning cup of java.  Running is a glorious sport.