There's dark and pretty dark and pretty damned dark and dark again. It's dark in the park at 6:30 am, but if you are like these folks, and want to do well in the upcoming marathon, there you are -- running in the darkness, enjoying the silences, the schuff-schuff-schuff sounds of shoes on pavement, the thickness of the morning air.

I am not running in the upcoming marathon. I am running my own marathon, the finish line has yet to be determined, the mile per hour rate remains at just barely above walking speed and I have no competition. This is the long and winding road.

From One Hundred and Tenth Street down the West Side of the Park to 59th takes me about forty five minutes, then, if I am feeling really good, I run down Broadway to 23rd Street, hoping to hit the gym door at 8:00 am when they open. Too fast and I get to stand around in a soaking wet tee-shirt (I once made the mistake of going into the PAX deli next door. They had the A/C set to Sub-Arctic.) Too slow and I have to race through my weighs routine before heading off to work.