Saturday, I was on the track, shading my eyes as the sun beat down mercilessly into them. My shoes were stiff, solid, a little uncomfortable. I had long sleeves and pants on, as well as a vest. I was even wearing a tie. It was a good thing I wasn’t there to run.
I was there for a wedding. Two dear friends were tying the knot at the Metropolitan Waterworks Museum, across the street from the reservoir. I was among the wedding party, dressed in a tux, and out on the track for photos. For those concerned about my health, I was also only an hour away from dancing. More to the point, my girlfriend was an hour from dancing, while I was an hour from rhythmically flailing in hopes people would think I was dancing with her, and not simply in her proximity.
It was a cool, beautiful, and immensely fun wedding. I’d met both the bride and groom in college, where they also met. Lived with the groom, and learned much of what I know about running from the bride.
Unfortunately, the day got away from me, and running again fell by the wayside. With my schedule in hand, I made a date with myself to go out on my quiet Thursday, when I had a short shift at just one of the jobs.
The wedding also fell a day before the AIDS Action 5k I had planned to attend. However, the three jobs had not given me enough to cover my bills and the entrance fee for the 5k. Which meant Sunday was for sleeping in, and sleeping off a late night with no more than two drinks too many.