On November 3 I will not be in the only city that matters that day. Last year I was. After the marathon was cancelled due to the destruction and death of Hurricane Sandy, I ran to Central Park to report on the people who were running an impromptu race there by the thousands I ran with my sister and girlfriend, which was special. I ran into an old friend Inka, which was nice and random. I heard moving, angry, mellow comments. I saw commitment and resentment. Mostly I heard sinewy runners promise they’d be back.
For these people there will be a deeper meaning, I think. Runner’s World has that story: what 2013 will mean.