Even so, energy is still low, as this post is not all that exciting or original. But one has to start again somewhere. And after many months of silence here, something is better than nothing.

Resuming my (once) daily constitutional was like a return of an old friend. I kept to my regular route, crossing the bridge along with the power walkers, joggers and cyclists.

What I did not see were any of the regulars. I know spring won’t have officially arrived until I come across the Roller King, the city’s oldest rollerskater with his matching neon shorts and headband. I wonder where he goes to rollerskate during the winter? Perhaps he put his skates to hibernate like I did this blog.

I left the apartment during the early part of the afternoon, when many people were likely finishing Sunday brunch or waking up from a luxurious extended sleep. On the way back through the park, there were people sitting scattered on the benches.

This particular fellow sat alone, perhaps dreaming of the time when all the snow would be gone and the fitness boot camps would resume on the grass. His spot would surely provide him with prime viewing of all the lunges and knee bends and side stretches. If only that old sports injury didn’t prevent him from joining in, he might be up there too, stretching longer, bending deeper, lunging farther than the rest of them. But then of course, that’s probably how he got injured in the first place. Maybe he should just stick to spectator sports.