not so smart
A lesson in watching the traffic and not the lights:
The city is quiet in the pre-dawn light. Chloe and I jog side by side toward Mission Dolores Park. We have started running at 6 am, in order to get our daily exercise in before she has to go to work and I have to not go to work. Anyway, as we are crossing the street, on a walk signal mind you, a hurried driver makes a left-hand turn, apparently with his eyes closed, and comes to within 6 inches of running us down. He slams on the breaks and covers his face with his hands in horror before speeding off without a word. Safely on the sidewalk we walk for a few minutes contemplating what might have been the end of our lives, or at least the end of our kneecaps. “I can’t believe we almost got run over by a Prius,” Chloe remarks. No wonder we didn’t hear it coming.
On the course of our runs we go up a hill that I have named, “The Hillinator.” It is a practically vertical incline that goes for several blocks. Somehow this is my fault, because on the first day of our run I asked, upon coming upon the hill, “Should we go that way?” “Sure, if you want,” Chloe had answered. I did not want, and and now we are condemned to ascend the The Hillinator on every run. By the time I am reaching the top of this mountain my legs are so tight and heavy, that during the last 25 feet I have actually felt a serious urge to shout, “No pain, no gain,” while pumping my fist in the air.