Oh Glory be Prospect Park on a Sunday autumn morning. Oh Glory be.

Smartmom
was composing a euphoric post, an ode to her great park, so blessed did
she feel out in the morning air, the trees changing from deep red to
brown, And she was running with no pinky toe pain — so it was a great,
great day. Okay, some guy was wretching over by the lake, a skeezy
looking alocoholic puking into a rusty garbage pail. "Ignore that," she
said aloud to noone, "It’s getting in the way of my poetic moment."

But
truly the park is every runner’s secret paradise. That 3.2 mile loop
around the park provides a pleasing view of meadows and trees, the
lake, the Grecian temple, the skating rink, the boat house, the
carousel (some days even the caliope plays), the zoo, the dog walkers
and their dogs in the dog run, Grand Army Plaza and more.

And
there are so many runners out there. Even this late in the season. The
park is a symphony of harmonious difference: body sizes, abilities,
skin colors, ethnicities, languages, styles, accents, and attitudes.
And there’s this feeling of harmony as you go around — smiles of
encouragement and familiarity, of shared pain and accomplishment.

See
the Russian ladies walking; the serious yuppie runners — track stars
in college; the Carribeans running and talking; the middle-aged women
in pairs yakking about their lives, their jobs, their children; the
super serious Rastafarian runners; the lone runners with their i-pods;
the hip young black girls running to stay fit; teenagers running track;
the big, big women and men running slow with cardio meter arm bands;
the fathers running with jogger strollers (the babies sleeping through
it all); the guy who seems to run all day, every day; the marathoners
who speed by; the mothers running with overweight children saying,
"Keep going, you eat too much!"; the Hasidim walking with their big
families…

Some run in packs, some in pairs, some brave it
alone. Alone is a wonderful way to hear yourself think, to sing, to
compose blogs, to admire the park in its majesty. Alone is a great way
to feel alive on a Sunday autumn morning in the park oh glory be. So
blessed is Smartmom to be part of the great symphony of runners, the
runners of Prospect Park.