I have been running a lot in preparation for my big 40 half-marathon debut on the Great Wall, now less than 20 days away.
I always take the same path and do laps around the city block where we live, 1.3 miles per lap, and have made some face-friends.
At this point, the Muslim man selling beef stomach and other unidentifiable innards from a cart gives me the thumbs up for each lap.
An older gentleman evokes primal screams in a doorway while he stretches, then waves at me each morning as he marches along briskly, arms swinging in his pink polo shirt as he yells “1-2-1-2.”
I left home one morning last week to go give a lecture, wearing a knee length dress, black boots with heels and carrying my laptop and purse in pursuit of a taxi.
As I went past my faithful guards at our apartment gate, one of them said, “Oh, going for another run I see.”