This afternoon when the temperature was 15 degrees Fahrenheit and the windchill near zero and while I was walking Newton, I saw a man jogging. We had a freezing mist last night, and the sidewalks are coated with an eighth-inch thick ice sheet of the sort that lies in wait, like a cat about to pounce on a mouse, to jump you, trip you up, twist your ankle, bruise your tailbone. So the fact he was running was itself a sign, not of courageousness, but of a certain disregard for personal safety. But then! He was also half naked, wearing nothing but shoes, shorts, and a Camelbak. After he passed, I kept looking back to watch him, and I am glad I did, because a half-block away he dropped to the ground to do push ups. Whatever he was training for, he was doing the full Rocky.

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