What a joy it is to run, really the greatest pleasure for this celibate bachelor.
It was a post-work slice of paradise tonight. I limbered up trotting north down Federal Avenue and then up through Volunteer Park, a beautiful Olmsted park, cresting Capitol Hill at the Conservatory and the Seward statue.
Then it was east down Galer to the greenbelt of Interlaken Drive. Moisture in the air and moonlight. The Drive-By Truckers and James Brown chirped on my iPod. I ran past a home that smelled of cooking steak. Is there anything finer than to be a smoothly functioning, to borrow Paul Virilio's term, "metabolic vehicle"?
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