"Running is a big question mark that's there each and every day. It asks you, 'Are you going to be a wimp or are you going to be strong today?'"

Things I noticed on my run this morning:

The friendliest people are always the old black guys. They smile and say Good morning, almost without fail. In fact, it gets a little weird sometimes – we’re all running laps around a mile loop of the reservoir, so as you can imagine, you pass each other with some frequency. At some point it HAS to be ok to ignore each other, having said Hello or Good Morning the past three or four times.

The least friendly are the old Italian ladies. I don’t say little old Italian ladies, because these are no frail old nonnies; no, they are of the battle-axe variety, stumping along, speaking Italian to each other. I am always convinced they are discussing how fat I am. No, I am not paranoid.

Which reminds me that I hate running past the little old Italian men, because I don’t like even three-hundred-year old men who are discussing bocce in loud Italian to see the jiggly fat on the back of my legs and my wide-load ass.

I have back fat. And it too jiggles when I run. Which is a disconcerting sensation.

I am not losing any noticeable weight. But of course, I am still consuming my usual amount of chocolate. So, you do the math.

There are not many ducks left on the reservoir. There used to be entire flocks. I read an article in the newspaper recently that said that fourteen dead ducks had been discovered up at the reservoir; their cause of death was malnutrition. Now, the reservoir obviously is not a natural habitat, and under its waters do NOT grow greens and weeds and water plants. But there are ponds within the park, so couldn’t the ducks go there? As H pointed out, perhaps any animal that dies of malnutrition in the wild more or less, Darwinically-speaking, deserves to die.

There is honeysuckle in two corners of the reservoir. It smells so nice. I love honeysuckle.

The steps leading into the reservoir waters were down today. I have never seen them down before, they normally must be folded up and fastened, at the side of the waterline. They lead right down into the water and then about a dozen steps below it. I notice these sorts of things because, given my history for swimming illegally in various bodies of water, I have often considered, especially at the end of a run, how refreshing it might be to jump into the reservoir. Steps would make it easier.

Someone had pitched a paint bucket into the water. Um, hello, idiots, that’s our drinking water supply. And it’s nice that the upper reservoir is not covered; the lower one is. If you want the public works people to insist on covering the upper one, then yeah, continue to do stupid shit like that.

Yes, yes, I know - paint, sweaty runner's body - six of one, blah, blah, blah. But *I* am organic at least.

The gardens surrounding the fountain area are lovely. Whoever planned them did a superb job. The irises are just blooming – deep purple with yellow hearts – and the yarrow – and those Dr Seuss-y looking puff balls on tall tall stems. (What ARE those?) The lavender is up. The tulips are done but the lilies are about to come up. Really a beautiful and pleasing display of garden planning know-how.

The water fountains have been turned on, and their fixtures replaced. Definitely a boon for runners, especially in the summer and especially now that the Italian Ice guy won’t be there at the park anymore.

The ribbons left to commemorate and memorialize the Italian ice guy are gone. They weren't left there all that long, considering the guy had plied his trade at the park for well over twenty years.

I need to start weight-training again. My legs need more muscle to support the longer runs I am soon going to have to do, in order to be ready for that 10K in September.

I LOOOOOOOOOVVVVEE endorphins.