I don’t have a very clearly defined sense of self-preservation, so I primarily run at night. For one, nobody can see me air-choreographing with my headphones on once the sun goes down. And I don’t get distracted by things I see on the streets. One time I ran past a woman who was holding a clambake for one inside her Maserati. She threw the door open, flapped her arms like wings, and yelled “Ca-caw! Ca-caw!” until I ran further down the sidewalk. Then there was the time that, in an effort to dodge a stop sign-ignoring vehicle, I dove head first into a cedar tree and ended up with two corneal abrasions and a corneal laceration. I thought I was okay at first, but my morning I had to walk a mile to the urgent care center with a dixie cup held to my eye (Google told me it was a good idea!), and my sight was restored by a medical professional who was the spitting image of Shemar Moore.
When I run during the day, I inevitably see something that interests me, and because I’m a child of the iPhone generation, I have to stop and take a picture.
On Wednesday I saw this playing card, laying on the curb, pleading to be immortalized. Or maybe it was just my lungs begging for an artistic excuse to take a break and snap a photo or three. Or ten. Whatever.
I wonder how it ended up there? I didn’t think curbside poker was a thing, but then again, I’m not a native of these parts.
I’m using this as a reminder to set five goals for the coming month, and I’ll share some of those goals soon. Copious drug consumption in luxury vehicles is not on the list (I’m sorry).