Sharing space with cellphone talkers walking the dog

It's downright dangerous. Yesterday, Monday the 8th, everyone in Boston was out just reveling in the bright sun and high 50's during the lunch hour. I pulled n my shorts, tied on my shoes and headed out for a run in the sun. Whoopee!

And it was fantabulous. The ankle felt pretty much recovered from a hard roll last Wednesday. A soft but still sharp March breeze justified the long-sleeve T I chose to wear. After working my way through the first third of my run, the part when the kids (1) have to figure out running all over again, especially now with my muscles, tendons and ligaments trying to incorporate "rolling through" my left foot at lease some.

So I'm feeling great, adrenaline’s surging. It's a Whoo Hoo day. Just ahead of me as I'm coming off the widened HarborWalk walkway past Christopher Columbus Waterfront Park, the Marriott Long Wharf behind me, and heading for the curb cut to cross the roadway beside Joe's American Bar & Grill, where two women walked together but some three feet apart, one walking a dog while on a long leash and yakking on a cell--taking up way more than her fair share of the walkway and the friend taking up much of the rest. I zigged to pass, and the whole lot of them cut in front of me the long leash cutting of a zag to the right, the twenty-something focused on the phone had apparently decided now was the time to cross the street dog in tow and friend accompanying unquestioningly.

Fighting the need to snatch the phone from her grasp and smash it on the asphalt, I instead waved my fingers flapping my hand at her face and shouted, "Hey twit, pay attention. You're not in your damn suburban backyard, you're in the street with people. Pay attention. Stupid."

Circling wide around their new travel path and into Atlantic Avenue, I ran past. I'm going to have survived a 50 cc's of blood cerebral hemorrhage & get taken out by a brainless twit yammering unconsciously on a cell.

(1) When I'm just being, the kids are my stroke paralyzed arm & leg, but when I'm running, each part of my leg is a "kid" because while it's all interconnected, the parts are separate, & paralysis is like having 2-year-old kids permanently attached to your body--they do what they want & always say No.