Sunday, August 14, 2005

Sharkey's Day

Running outside first thing in the morning is the most disgusting, horrible thing I can imagine.

I hate it more than I can express in phrases that don't contain fist shaking and spitting.

Even at 6:30 it is hot. Well, not hot, but *wet*...the air is opaque, and I begin sweating immediately. I wander through the back parts of Georgetown and Foxhall and every minute seems like five. Time? Relative.

I make my way to one of the wooded parks hidden around this area - ill kempt and overgrown - and I pause at the entrance to wonder: "Is 0630 very early Sunday, or very late Saturday?" Perhaps the park denizens will reveal which.

Again, time: human made, human watched, human defined. It's relative and mutable according to our whims and perspectives. But we knew that.