Early morning I brace myself for another cold run in San Francisco.
I
start with the uphill today, steady my breath, keep it even as I concentrate on
the deep breathing that will get me over the hill. I need to remind myself to
ignore my natural inclination to view the hill as an obstacle to tackle, and
instead see it as just another part of my run that requires me to change my
tactic so that I’m putting in the same amount of effort as the rest of my run.
I slow my pace as I start the climb.
I crest the top of the hill and on the
downhill, I change my tactic once again to match my new terrain.
At the first
intersection straight means stopping and waiting, so I take a right and run
cross the street.
My breath becomes labored for a minute, I always speeds up
when running across the street, even one void of traffic, perhaps a legacy from
crossing streets in foreign places where cars do not stop for the slow.
I
continue on following the same pattern, avoiding stopping, and instead follow
the most readily available path, all with the vague idea of where I want to
eventually end, home.
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