Evening Run
Spent all day at Graterford helping out in a training for Inside Out instructors. Left the house at 7 am and didn't return until 8 pm. Long day.
Something about spending all day behind those walls made me put on my running shoes as soon as I got home and just take off. Had Fela Kuti on the iPod. Nigerian jazz. Jazz with an African beat that was just gritty and chaotic enough to fit into an urban twilight. The sun was going down over Philadelphia as I hit the Schuylkill River bike path and if I imagined it right the lit-up, low-arching stone bridges could have been Paris along the Seine. It was dark already as I hit MLK, and the signature lights on Boathouse Row twinkled across the river. Then it was up Montgomery and into West Philly, where there were lights of a different kind. Parkside and Mantua have a much different feel to them on a Saturday night than they do on a Tuesday morning. Something big must have been going down, as a half dozen squad cars, lights flashing, came whizzing by me a some point or another, apparently heading toward a common destination. As I was on Belmont crossing Lancaster another cop car was stopped roadblock style at a 60 degree angle in front of an older model big old American car and the cop was frisking the driver - black male in his early 20s - who had assumed the position. And later one more cop car came up from behind, his siren blending in with Fela's sax solo.
9 miles in 70:42. I love this city.
Something about spending all day behind those walls made me put on my running shoes as soon as I got home and just take off. Had Fela Kuti on the iPod. Nigerian jazz. Jazz with an African beat that was just gritty and chaotic enough to fit into an urban twilight. The sun was going down over Philadelphia as I hit the Schuylkill River bike path and if I imagined it right the lit-up, low-arching stone bridges could have been Paris along the Seine. It was dark already as I hit MLK, and the signature lights on Boathouse Row twinkled across the river. Then it was up Montgomery and into West Philly, where there were lights of a different kind. Parkside and Mantua have a much different feel to them on a Saturday night than they do on a Tuesday morning. Something big must have been going down, as a half dozen squad cars, lights flashing, came whizzing by me a some point or another, apparently heading toward a common destination. As I was on Belmont crossing Lancaster another cop car was stopped roadblock style at a 60 degree angle in front of an older model big old American car and the cop was frisking the driver - black male in his early 20s - who had assumed the position. And later one more cop car came up from behind, his siren blending in with Fela's sax solo.
9 miles in 70:42. I love this city.
posted by seebo | 10:43 PM
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