This morning's weather for my run along the East River was in the single digits. At one point, I was wishing that I was a duck. There they were just floating on the river. No clothes. No thermal gear, no beanie with a tassle. Just them and their feathers. I wasn't sure what kind of ducks they were as I wasn't able to get a good look at them due to needing to continually look straight ahead. Turning your head when you're that cold requires the whole body turning, Freinkenstein-like, and that was something that I was not prepared to do. Not when a gust could suddenly go down my shirt.
My East River running partner told me yesterday that he is changing offices and will no longer be coming to the City. Instead, he will be staying in Jersey. Have I told you about my ability to avoid Jersey? Maybe another time, but those jug handles irk me and you don't want to see me irked. I kind of resemble a pigeon when I'm irked. Well, it looks as if my morning Manhattan runs are over. No way I can do those by myself. I'd rather be running on a treadmill watching Sportscenter.
Anyways, I'm not feeling it. This hasn't been an amusing session.