zhuangao@lifeweek.com.c n； Zhuangao2@lifeweek.com. Cn

-This article is contributed by readers, and does not represent our position-

At three o'clock in the afternoon, Dabao went for a run in Central Park, and Mr. Wang took Erbao to the playground to play. I stayed at home alone, nestled on the sofa and read books about running.

the wind from late summer and early autumn wafted in from the window, and it was a little cool in the coolness. For more than half a year, from winter to summer to autumn, there are only a handful of such times. In fact, to be exact, it didn't happen for the first time until now.

I read Haruki Murakami's When I Talk about Running, what do I talk about? It was published in Japanese in 27, the second edition in Chinese in 21, and the twentieth printing in 215. The last reading date is marked on the title page: August 23rd, 215. At that time, I just came back from a holiday in China and came back to Bao Shu. On the weekend morning with jet lag, I ran to the coffee shop on the corner and read while drinking coffee. It seemed that I saw a simple and honest author sitting opposite the page, with words with a sense of music and rhythm, casually laying the groundwork and sonata-like layout, describing his running and life experiences, his search for his body and heart, his discovery and his feelings.

Murakami said that he is a person who can't think smoothly without writing-not thinking in writing, but thinking while writing, thinking through writing, and deepening thinking through revision. I seem to have the same symptoms. If I don't write it, I can't understand it (maybe not just because I don't understand it, but because I don't understand it at all). Every time I finish the first draft and revise the article, it seems to be the time to understand the article best. After finalizing it, I put it aside and instantly forget what I wrote. I always feel glad: fortunately, I wrote it down and captured the thoughts and feelings that once came, otherwise, I let my thoughts gurgle and my feelings surge, passing by without any mark, as if nothing had happened.

you will meet what you want to see, really. After reading Murakami's running book, I became interested in running, and people who had run in Central Park that I had turned a blind eye to began to catch my eye. Every time I take Erbao to the Central Park to play, I always admire and admire people who run by on the runway in the distance, and I think of the golden sentence fragments in When I Talk about Running, what do I talk about, and the wonderful reading time they bring.

Friends stills

However, in the past five years, I have only maintained a theoretical interest in running, and only appreciated those runners from a bystander's point of view, but I didn't have the practical idea of joining them at all, and I don't know whether it was because of blind thinking or laziness and procrastination.

I think it's mostly the latter, since I actually have a long running procrastination.

In the first few years of primary school, I was a "sports git" with excellent academic performance. Whenever my family shook their heads and sighed for my sports incompetence, I defended myself weakly, saying that this was mainly due to the lack of sports environment. If only my home was near the sports ground, I could run every morning.

this is of course an excuse. But to my surprise, when I was in the third grade of primary school, my family really moved to the street behind the municipal sports ground! Grandma came to ask about my exercise plan, of course I didn't. I remember moving to my new home on the eve of the winter solstice. In the first few days, I tried two morning runs reluctantly. I got up before dawn and ran twice in the cold. It was the most painful experience of getting up. Naturally, I couldn't last, so I went away and continued to be a git.

And magically, after entering junior high school, somehow, my physical education suddenly got better, and I became a good runner without much effort, and I was good at what everyone said was the difficult 4 meters, which required both speed and endurance. I can only attribute this to the arrival of sports inspiration, so there is no need to go running in the sports ground.

In this way, my family lived behind the playground for 2 years, nine of which I went to school in my hometown, and eleven years I went out to study and work-the playground was naturally near when I was in college, and happened to live in the back of a university after work, and the playground was still only a few steps away-but I didn't become a runner. This made me realize that whether to exercise or not is independent and unrelated to whether there is a sports field at home; This also made me realize that running, as well as many other things, can be delayed for many years.

With this long history of running procrastination at the bottom, living in Manhattan for eleven years without running in Central Park is nothing.

The change happened on a Friday in July this year. Working at home saves commuting time, but I'm still so busy that I can't get up when sitting in front of the computer, and I feel like a stagflation potato. One day, a skirt bought online according to the original size was sent home, but I couldn't pull it up. I thought, I can't go on like this any more. I must go out and stretch my limbs and breathe!

The motivation for running just popped up, so it was easy.

actions are actions. I put on my sneakers and asked Dabao for the best route. Dabao suggested that I go to the Central Park Reservoir, which is beautiful and not boring. He said that there are three runways there, which are divided into three layers: First, it is called Shuman Runway, which is the shortest, and at the highest point, you can see the invincible panorama of the reservoir without cover, but it is relatively narrow and may be a bit crowded; Second, the middle layer of silt pavement, called Bridle Path, is relatively wide, soft and fit, and it is shaded by trees, which feels good, but it will be a little dusty; The third is the outer road used with bicycle lanes, called East Drive, with cement pavement, which is at the lowest place, widest and longest.

After hearing Dabao's introduction, "stagflation potato" rolled out of the door. I entered Central Park from the entrance of East 96th Street/Fifth Avenue as suggested. Once inside, there is a children's playground on the left, with fountains, bunkers, slides and rocking chairs. Children are yelling and playing happily in it.

There are several benches and a green belt outside the playground, which is a wide outer lane. People who ride bicycles and run pass by, emitting attractive energy. Crossing the outer road and going up the small slope, I entered the middle road. My starting point corresponds to the location of East 95th Street. The towering trees cover a cool place, as if I stepped into the forest in the suburbs in an instant.

I think, for the first time, I'd better run the shortest inner road, so I continued to go up one floor and entered the inner road close to the reservoir.

-my god, when I walked up, I was shocked by the scenery of the reservoir at first sight, so beautiful that I was dizzy and speechless! I'm standing in the northeast corner of the reservoir. At sunset, the golden sun shines from the west to the huge and calm lake. The reflections of the towering buildings on the East Fifth Avenue are cast on the light blue clear water. It's incredibly beautiful! Looking around, it's an invincible panorama from any angle. I don't know whether I'm in a painting, a movie, a photo, a dream or reality ...

This city that has lived for eleven years has such peerless beauty that I've never enjoyed it. !

come on, let's go!

I haven't run for decades, and my inspiration for sports has long since gone away. I once again degenerated into a sports git, and before long, I was panting, my heart was racing and I was sweating all over. But I'm not anxious or annoyed at all-if time has taught me anything, it's that I'm not anxious or annoyed, I'm happy with everything, and I'm always reconciled with myself and the environment. I don't know how many times I have heard this truth since I was a child, but I have to go through my own years to "demonstrate human flesh" before I can really understand and absorb it.

For a change of scenery, I run at the most unthinking speed. When I can't run, I walk, and when I have saved my strength, I run again. What's more, the beautiful scenery attracts my attention, and my brain is filled with surprises one after another, leaving no room to complain and be tired.

After running a lap, satisfied, I walked down the high slope of the inner lane, crossed the middle lane and the outer lane, returned to the entrance, sat down on the green bench facing the children's playground, rested, looked at the sky, watched people and enjoyed the happy time of the children. After having enough rest, walk out of the park and go home.

When I tried it for the first time, I found that running was such a pleasant experience. The entry threshold was not as high as I thought, and running became a dream in my heart.

The following weekend, I ran for the second time, and this time I decided to try the middle road. As Dabao introduced, the Middle Road is a different scenery. The muddy road surface has soft soil, and the road surface is more open. Moreover, the road is wide and narrow, high and low, and twists and turns, wandering among trees. The rustling of the road surface is intertwined with the breathing of trees, and the fragrance of trees and grass can be smelled between the noses. Every cell seems to feel a carefree breath. I can't help but think of the lines in the movie recording clip "Princess Sissi" that I listened to countless times in Shanghai People's Broadcasting Station while doing my homework in the evening when I was a child. My father told her that when she felt upset and sad, she would come to the forest, open her mind and look at the forest, and she would get comfort and strength from every tree, flower, grass and creature.

the feeling of dust under my feet also reminds me of the countless good times that these running shoes have accompanied me. It has followed me through Lake Geneva, chillon castle, the old city of Lausanne and matterhorn. Two years ago, it accompanied my trip to Egypt, and there may still be dust on the Sphinx and the pyramids of Giza, dust in the National Museum of Egypt, and historical dust on the top of Saradin Castle. It also followed my family and I to Spain before the outbreak of COVID-19 in February this year, passing through Barcelona's Sagrada Familia Church, Gaudi Park, picasso museum, Montehuichi Highland, the aqueduct of ancient Rome in Tarango, and the Prado Museum in Madrid ... These memories have to be described in several articles.

After that, I will go running in the Central Park Reservoir every weekend, and I like the middle road. After running too much, I gradually became familiar with the terrain, and the runway seemed to have a link between articles or a movement like a sonata.

The Central Park Reservoir is built by Jacqueline, widow of President Kennedy and Greek ship king onassis. Kennedy? Onassis's name, except along the east side of the Fifth Avenue between 86th Street and 94th Street, is straight, and all other places are irregular lines.

I always enter Central Park from the entrance of East 96th Street/Fifth Avenue, and go to the entrance opposite to 94th Street and enter Middle Road. Soon the runway will turn left and run up an arc in the northernmost section. On the right hand side, there will be a large lawn with ups and downs, and people will sit and lie down on the floor and enjoy a pleasant time. On the left hand side is the unobstructed panoramic view of the reservoir. On the east and west sides stand the classic buildings on Fifth Avenue and Central Park West Avenue, and on the south is the newly-built contemporary skyscraper house. Every time I run here, I can't help but be amazed.

Continue to turn left, and the road suddenly opens up. In front of you, there is an ancient iron bridge that welcomes you with open arms, attracting you to open your heart and run over. It is one of the three iron bridges along the reservoir, called Gothic Bridge, which was built in 1864 and has a history of more than 15 years. On the right side of the railway bridge is the Central Park tennis court with 34 courts. In the hot summer, people sweat profusely in the court.

After crossing the Gothic Bridge, I entered the west half from the east half of the reservoir and ran away with the historical buildings on the west avenue of Central Park. After passing the most classic El Dorado Twin Towers between West 9th Street and 91st Street, I arrived at the other diagonal end of my starting point, knowing that I was halfway through the race. In this section, the middle road is flush with the inner road, and there is an entrance to the inner road at the southwest end. There are no trees around, and you can enjoy the lake surface of the reservoir and the buildings in the east.

When you get to the southwest corner of the reservoir, turn left, and you will almost cross the Central Park from west to east along the position of 86th Street. In this section, the middle road is much lower than the inner road, so you can't see the scenery of the reservoir. Just bury yourself in running, with dense trees on both sides and two other Gothic bridges hidden among them. This section is also the base camp of the Central Park of new york Police Department. There are many police cars, medical vehicles and cleaning vehicles parked, which makes me realize that behind a clean and orderly park, it depends on a lot of manpower, facilities and funds.

After running this section, turn left and turn a corner, you will return to the east and enter a straight line parallel to the Fifth Avenue, which means that there is still the last quarter of the distance, and you will complete a circle. There is also an inner entrance in the southeast corner, leaving a gap, where you can enjoy the building at the west end. The El dorado Twin Towers stand proudly in the line of sight again, and it is absolutely in the C position. The brilliance of the setting sun has plated a Phnom Penh on the silhouette of the runner on the inner track.

At this time, on the right hand side, there are two museums that I love. First of all, I passed the Guggenheim Museum between East 88th Street and 89th Street, where I studied Kandinsky, Picasso and Pollock. Dabao took an art class here, which gave me a glimpse of the meticulous behind-the-scenes of world-class museums. Last Christmas, I also took Erbao to watch the children's musical Peter and the Wolf, which was well-made and unforgettable.

Guggenheim's art class brings back too many memories. At that time, Dabao was nine years old, and there was a lesson about sketching the Guggenheim Museum in the Central Park across the street. With a few strokes, he vividly drew the museum that the building itself is a work of art (please forgive the "proud mother syndrome"). Another time, I went to the Central Park to pick up leaves, and then went back to the classroom to make a leaf relief. Unfortunately, the leaves picked up by Dabao were crushed by classmates, so he simply made a work entitled Broken Leaves, and wrote in the graduation summary that the most unforgettable thing for him in this art class was this incident. The leaves were broken, but he didn't cry, so he made Broken Leaves-what a bright and lovely child.

On another occasion, Dabao's school held a "Pajama Day". Every student went to school in pajamas. After school, he didn't have time to change his pants, so he hurried to the after-school class. The first item of each after-school class was to visit the theme that would be involved that day in the museum. Therefore, Dabao became a visitor walking in the Guggenheim Museum in pajamas. It happened that the staff came to take photos for the after-school class that day, so a group photo of a student wearing pajamas was published in the news briefing of the after-school class in Guggenheim Museum.

further north of Guggenheim Museum, between East 9th Street and 91st Street, is the Cooper Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum under the Smithsonian Museum, which was transformed from the mansion of industrial tycoon andrew carnegie. I have seen the works of "post-1982 human" clock device here, and I have smelled the one designed by Norwegian designer and chemist Sissel Tolaas and brushed on the wall.