Not me, at least, not my muscles or joints. If I were to use the word to describe myself today, I’d mean “sore” in the sense of miffed, or peeved, as in “Why are you sore with me?” I’ve a chip on my shoulder and it’s got me all off balance. Let’s blame it on the fffestive ssseason, and on tourists (two of my favorite scapegoats). But, you know, only if I would use the word “sore,” which probably I wouldn’t.
I’m starting to get a taste for this up-at-5 AM-renegade-running-in-the-dark. I say “renegade” because I never see anyone else out, except for the cabbies starting their shifts. After last night’s experience on the Sunnyside Rail Yards bridge, I was sure to don my Nana’s reflective vest–and boy does it work. The sidewalks had received a crap shovel job and so were iced over, forcing me to run in the bike lane towards traffic (this meant I was running my Sunnyside Loop in reverse), and what few cars there were gave me a nice wide berth.
Even though there was a light rain, and a stiff breeze on the western end of the loop, I was warm and placid. The darkness somehow brushed that chip off my shoulder, my legs felt strong, and I allowed the predawn to absorb me as one of its own. As I approached my building at the end of the final half-loop, I thought I want to run until the sun comes up, until I’m so far from home I’ll have to hop a train to get back, until I’m late for work, until people begin to worry, until I’m drenched with effort and precipitation.