Imagine

Imagine the following:

You leave your apartment to go for a run to a frozen yoghurt place in Brighton, MA at 7pm.
It is still nice and sunny out, even a little too warm maybe.
You are wearing your heart rate monitor and a Boston Red Sox cap.
You run down Cambridge street in Beacon Hill towards the Esplanade.

While passing the 'camping spot' you were on for more than 12 hours on the 4th of July just a few days ago,
you try to figure out if you can distinguish your friend who went sailing from all the others on a sail boat on the Charles river

After about 18 minutes you reach the first water fountain. You briefly stop for a few sips of water and move on towards the BU bridge. A few minutes after the BU bridge an Indian family kindly asks you for a favor. They need directions to MGH main campus. Since you live very close to the main campus you can easily help them out and direct them correctly to their destination.

Once you reach the next bridge you take a left on Cambridge street. You don't immediately know if you should follow the most left sidewalk or the one in the middle. You decide to try the most left one first but that seems to end up on the highway: WRONG WAY. Once on the correct sidewalk you follow this cambridge street that bridges over the highway. You recognize the AAMCO garage you took your boss car to for a check up once. But besides this garage nothing seems familiar.

You keep on running until the weirdest thing happens: a guy in a silver grey VW Golf with dark windows tells you he is sorry he bothers you with his need for directions to get to 93 north. You have to tell him you don't know how to get there since you are not living in that area and normally don't run there either. He smiles and tells you it's ok and adds to it that you should keep on running and that you look great running etc etc. This flattering coming from a guy that doesn't really look very normal and asks for directions in a dodgy neighborhood reminds you again you should not run by yourself, without an ID, in a part of Boston you don't know. But you keep running to the next light. Worse come to worse, at the next red light you see in the lower left corner of your left eye the silver grey VW golf with dark windows again. The guy who asked you for directions a minute ago jumps out of his car onto the side walk and tells you he normally doesn't do this but then asks you if you want to go out with him. You are shocked and force yourself to keep on running and while waving your left hand with the engagement ring pointed towards him, you kindly tell him "no sorry, engaged". You quickly check your HR and notice it jumped from 150 to 170. You keep on running but happen to see this guy in his car at every traffic light so you decide to take the next left that will take you closer to your destination: frozen yoghurt. You end up running 5 miles in 42 minutes when entering the frozen yoghurt place.

Imagine all that and you might understand why I had to eat over a pound of comfy - frozen yoghurt - food before my heart rate went down to 50 again.