I walked to Georgetown today for a new pair of running shoes. Actually, I had bought the shoes yesterday but they were a size too big, so I went to exchange them. It’s a considerable walk from my dorm in Foggy Bottom to Georgetown Running Company, which is on the western side of town. I was content to walk alone, listening to The Sound of Music soundtrack and feel generally content with my state of being.
I traded my shoes and spent an hour and a half ducking in and out of stores on M Street, still feeling swell – now with brand new Brooks Ghost 6′s on my feet. (They’re gorgeous, by the way. Brooks really outdid themselves on this model.) Slowly though, a slight feeling of melancholy started to overtake me. I can’t say what triggered it, though I suspect it might have just been hunger and dehydration. Regardless, I started walking back to my dorm with the heavier-growing burden of whatever gross monster of a mood was about to eat my heart.
Then I passed a little bookshop with new releases on display on tables out front. I was intrigued by a biography of JFK, so I stopped. After flipping through it and deciding against it, I climbed the shop’s steps and pushed its heavy door forward.