|My First Favorite Running Path|
I had occasion to visit Central Park one night last week.
My firm was having an evening event for the summer associates at the Central Park Zoo, and I went with some of my work friends. We had some fun checking out the animals, and spent some time at the buffet, and before long I decided to head home.
But before I left the park, I paid a visit to the Central Park running path. It was the first time that I've been back since I moved away this past November.
It was a hot and sticky night, but the road was full. And for a few minutes I stood there, watching the runners, awash in memories of my Central Park running days. Of making my way to the park every morning, my brain still hazy with exhaustion. Of feeling the haze clear as I began to run while the sun rose over Manhattan. Of my pace quickening as I reached the transverse that signaled the final turn towards home. Of leaving the park ready to face my day, knowing that I would be back tomorrow.
For more than three years, those roads were my home.
As I stood there, I thought I would feel sad. That I would wish that, just for a moment, I was back in the park, back on these roads.
But I didn't.
Because I have a new home now. And for a long time, when I ran my new path I closed my eyes and imagined I was back in the Park. But I don't do that anymore. Now I run with my eyes open, happy to be where I am, to be running in a new place. To be making new memories.
With a final glance back I turned and left Central Park and headed to catch my train, knowing that my new roads were waiting for me, and that I would be paying them a visit as the sun rose in the morning.