This morning I got up and ran. 6 miles. My first “long run” since the half marathon. Summer break is just starting and I REALLY just wanted to sleep in. But I got up. (An hour later than planned, but still.) I ran in the oppressive humidity questioning yet again why I run. I passed my apartment after mile four and thought, Now would be a good time to stop. Really, it would. But I forged ahead toward six miles. I ran through Hamra desperately seeking shade. I ran on the sidewalk when possible but mostly in the street as close as possible to the parked cars so as not to get hit by the crazy Lebanese drivers. At one point I was on the sidewalk approaching a corner that was blocked by a group of local old men having their morning social hour. One of them spotted me running towards them and got all of them to part making room for me to pass by through the middle. I smiled and nodded at him as I passed and he smiled back and in a thick, scratchy Lebanese accent said, “Goood! Keeeep running!” It lifted my spirits and helped me pick up my pace for the last 1.5 miles. I got home and realized I wasn’t harassed even once on my run. It’s the little things.