Sunday mornings

There's something really special about Sunday mornings.

I've always wanted to be one of those people who woke up early on a Sunday, turn my head and find myself lying next to the person I've fallen completely in love with. We would spend the whole day together: Read the Sunday Times, fight over the Book review; go to brunch, fight over the jam. Then retreat to our or his, or my small but cozy apartment to relax, dreading the coming week. The piles of paper that we know are going to be on our desks in the morning. Comfortable back rubs, book shopping, coffee drinking, needless errands.

I'm convinced that this moment will one day happen to me, it has to. Some people dream of weddings, huge vast circus weddings; children, pitter-patters and what not. Me, I dream of perfect Sundays. Whole unstoppable moments lived in a single, or series of, Sundays.

But today hasn't sucked so far.

I woke up at 6:15, more or less because I couldnt fall back asleep again. I decided that today was the day, I was going to go running. I got out of bed, killed a roach mercilessly(bastard) and then put on my running shoes and took my keys and stretched relentlessly. Church Ave isnt even a hop skip and jump from Prospect Park, more like a hop and skip, or a skip and a jump perhaps. So I used that as my warm up. Church and Ocean, up to the Lincoln Rd. entrance to the park. From there I entered the park and ran up the path to Flatbush Ave. I felt good, I felt productive(especially after my failed bike hunting yesterday).

This was my first time in Prospect park, at 6:30 on a Sunday morning, and it was a incredibly beautiful. I turned at Flatbush Ave. and ran down Ocean Ave back to Church Ave. I noticed that I started to speed up alot when I crossed Parkside Ave. I smile to myself, reminscent of my 6 years of cross country. I wanted to call Mr. Carey(my old coach) and say "guess what Mr. Carey, I dont need you screaming behind me to get back into shape" But he still would have called me fat.

As I crossed Caton my stride opened up, my legs lengthened, my breathing started to settle. It was like meditating, my mind was clear, me head was empty, it was complete magic.

I got back into my apartment and my alarm started to go off, It was only 7:15. I had alot to do. I made coffee, took a shower, listened to BBC radio and then went to the laundry mat with all the laundry I could afford to do(mostly shirts and underwear if you must know) and I went took out my garbage.

Its only 10:30 and I feel like I've had a whole day already. I love days like this, I know I'll crash eventually, but hopefully this is the start of a very productive pattern. I should go now though. I'm meeting Bob for brunch. Then he's taking me to see "Not Another Gay Movie" I'm worried thats its basically going to suck. But I'm finally getting my New York brunch. I'm going to buy a Sunday Times when I get into Manhattan.

But I've defenitly come to appreciate Brooklyn more, my borough is growing on me.