The weekend before last, I wrote a piece called “6:47 am, Corona.”
6:47 am, Corona
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We moved in procession, first down the stairs, then up a ramp and forward on the boardwalk-style walkway. A procession of runners walking toward the park. I was moving to music, feeling my uneven footsteps touch each board. I had just gotten off the train in Queens, and “In the Heat of the Moment” by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds came on.
I opened it with a scene about me walking to the Queens 10K and the runners moving in procession along the boardwalk shortly after exiting the train at Mets-Willet’s Point.
I don’t know how well I painted the picture of the experience of that morning, but from the comments, it seemed like …