Today as I was running back to my starting point on 150th Street, for a mile another runner was bothering me. As soon as she saw me approaching, she began running faster, always staying just a little ahead of me. At first I thought it was Kirsty, but then I saw that she had black hair, whereas Kirsty’s hair is golden.
Every time I came near her, she would go faster, so I couldn’t pass her. Then I stopped running for a while and said, “I don’t want to see her face.” Finally she made a left turn onto a side street.
RB 615. 16 September 1982↩