Directions

At least once a week I get asked for directions, and most of the time it's when I am running. I first thought it was because I had a sign around me that says "really good with directions...ask me!", but after my run yesterday I know the real reason--it's because people feel sorry for me. 

Yesterday I was huffing and puffing with my bright red face, that was probably wrinkled in pain, because my run was so terrible. Everything hurt: shins, calves, feet, lungs...elbows..whatever. Then I heard a honk, and a nice lady pulled over to ask how to get to I-5 North. Secretly I think she knew the way, but felt so bad for me, that she thought she would give me a break and a chance to catch my breath. 

Basically it's a sympathy stop. After yesterday's run--I'll take it.