A shell with a single rower, from above on the marshall bridge. I wondered if they saw me too until I remembered, and then saw, rowers row with their backs leading.
No stones stacked on the ancient boulder.
The river was calm, blue. Saw a small log from high above on the bridge; it looked so tiny and far away.
2 young (younger than me, at least) runners passed, running much faster. A snippet of their conversation–R1: That was when you just started running again…. R2: Yes, after I recovered from the blood clots in my leg. Not 1, but 2 blood clots.
Brown, dead leaves covering the path for a brief stretch. It looked like they had been dragged from the brush. Why?
The loud buzz, crackle of a cicada.
My right knee feeling a bit strange, almost like the kneecap wasn’t quite in the groove. Almost, but not quite.
A kid approaching me on his bike as I ran over the bridge, doing a great job of staying to his side. Almost wanted to call out and tell their parent what a great job he was doing.
Hearing a beeping sound down in the river, wondering if it was the start of a rowing race, never figuring out what it was.
Running through the Minneahaha Academy parking lot, hearing someone on the field, wondered if they were playing golf