Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

Tom says he loves running in Central park because it’s easy to sidewind around on the trails to customize the length and terrain of his morning constitutional. And also because sometimes a guy rides by on his sit-down recumbent bike that is the Schwinn equivalent of a mutant with a second, albeit smallish, head. This bike is a triangularly double-decker affair. The guy puts his 8-year old shortie up top and the kid pedals away in full spandex. You know the duo is out doing their thing when half the people on the Outer Loop are running by with swiveled eyeballs. I like running in Central Park because it is like going on Safari except I don’t have to wear a pith helmet (although some days safety gear might be a sensible choice). Regardless of whether I do, or do not, elect to rig myself out like Teddy Roosevelt, as soon as I step foot across 59th street and onto that weird sandy white gravel, I fade into the scenery and become part of the jungle. I always run the same loop, but every wee...