Although it's been a mostly temperate summer, we've had a hot, humid spell here at the end. I've been struggling mightily with a cold which has invaded my chest and I haven't run for a week to aid my recovery.
Yesterday I finally got back out there, running a mile in the blistering, sopping heat of the noon hour with a running buddy who was returning to work after maternity leave. She hadn't been running either for awhile, and we walked the mile back.
My last run before yesterday was a few miles about a week ago in Falls Church and Arlington, in the morning before the day heated up. I was enjoying watching the people I ran past, other runners going by, a househusband walking and cleaning up after the household dog, a Muslim praying on his mat behind the 7-11.
At about 7 a.m. a cherry red Ford Mustang convertible drove by with its top down, a youthful chariot for an old woman, the roadmap of lines criss-crossing the driver's face belying her wind-tossed bleached blonde hair. It sure was a nice brand new car.
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