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I'm running alongside the road in between thin spotlights of sun cast through clouds of gray. The gravel's loose, so I spend half my energy just keeping my feet under me, leaving only half to push me forward.
When they widened my road, they narrowed the shoulder where I run. They increased traffic and decreased the size of my yard. They screwed me. The notion, of course, was to alleviate congestion, but opening up the route just brought more traffic from somewhere else. It didn't alleviate congestion; it just spread it aroundto my neck of the woods, or what used to be. I still run my same route, despite the somnolent commuters. I suppose I could drive to the park, but the idea of driving to a place in order to run seems paradoxical; even the notion of a park, a manmade natural setting, seems paradoxical, and I have enough of that in my life.
My knees hurt, which is the second sign that I need to replace my shoes. The first sign is that gaping holes have appeared in the