Running Shorts

I was out for a run today, jogging down the west side of Central Park when I was joined by a homeless man. Not that exciting on it's own; this is New York City after all and we've all had our fair share of folk who think it is funny to make some sort of motion at you while running, or jump out in front of you and try to block your path, or bounce along a few strides next to you, making exaggerated arm motions as you go. And each and every time, the perpetrator of this act is somehow under the impression that he (always he) is the the first and only person to think of doing such a thing, and that it is probably the funniest thing that he has ever done.

Now that, that doesn't alarm me. But today, a homeless man, arms full of cans and other junk, dressed in heavy boots and layer after layer of clothing, pockets full of random treasures, including an open, half-drunk can of beer, started running alongside me and did not stop after the normal five strides or so. He stayed with me for the first block, the second, the third and next thing I know, this man is still running with me three-quarters of a mile down the park. The entire time, he ran just a few steps ahead of me, continuously checked to make sure I was still there, and had a most joyful, carefree look on his face. He didn't make a single remark to me the entire time, nor did he tire. When I reached Central Park South, it was time for me to make the turn around the corner of the park, and he continued on southbound. I found this quite unusual, amusing and honestly, quite impressive. I am convinced that the stamina of bums is strongly underestimated and am now considering starting a running team strictly for them.