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October 28, 2006
There was the trail. There was foliage. Behind the backdrop trees is the highway but you wouldn't know it from the dead silence. There was movement, but you couldn't see that either. The only sound was the heat and my ragged breath from the sneakers on pavement. Is was the loneliest place on earth, except every endless eternity, a member of the elderly would speed pass me on a bicycle or rollerblades, racing toward the finish line. The other finish line it seemed. God it was lonely. To think, some people really live miles and miles from average population clusters.