Monday Run

Park Avenue - about twenty after eight. Late August sun, with a breeze that makes it just bearable. We haven't had such a nice day in weeks. And with summer ending, I don't know when there will be another. Sitting on the couch, watching the weather forecast, the run I envisage is irrestible - easy and free, energizing. But the reality of the pavement hits quickly. As I start out north from 35th, my legs are stiff and heavy. Just past Grand Central, I find a stride. By 60th, I am feeling great. School is still out, so the sidewalk is unusually free of the nine-month sidewalk parade of plaid uniforms. Instead, there are suits - men and women, with purposeful, distracted strides, their minds already in the office. Doormen and maintenance - hosing the sidewalk, watering the potted flowers, standing at the ready. Young women with thoughtfully planned outfits - off to work at a magazine, a gallery, an investment bank, where their appearance is a job requirement. It is too early still for tourists. Besides, they rarely have an occasion to come to this neighborhood. No, it is the neighbors you see on Park Avenue on a Monday morning.