This day started out with a red dress, the first impetuous bare legs of spring, swinging through midtown in good stomping boots.

Two hours stuffed in a cubicle in the fiscal department, low ceilings, humming flourescents, trying to track down roll-overs, early releases, split allocations, and this day is as grey and tired as your fourth grade school cafeteria Salisbury steak.

That pair of morning doves is bobbing on the wall outside my office, grackles are pecking for new nesting scraps, a gull is lording it over this concrete sea from his perch on a cobra head streetlight. It's time to do what I desperately want to do. It's time to go running.