Grand Army Plaza

He finished his duties at his fancy show biz job.  He closed the binder of "to do's," collected his satchel, and headed out the door while wishing a good night to his coworkers.  Apparently, only one of the three heard him and returned the sentiment.  He liked the response, even if it was as automatic as the sun rising in the east.

The fried chicken tenders he ate for lunch sat at the bottom of his stomach like a ton of bricks.  On his way to the subway, he noticed a massive ass belonging to a woman of titanic proportions.  

"That's it...today I start running again...again."  he declared in private.

A quick ride north on the Q train got him home and changed.  He hesitated.  He knew hesitation to ruin even the best of intentions concerning a workout.  He grew especially concerned because his hesitation manifested itself in the form of an aimless jaunt on the internet.  Even deadlier.  The chances of this workout happening seemed next to nil.  Then he remembered the woman he had seen 22 minutes prior and sped out the door.

By the time he reached Prospect Park, all of a mile away, his lungs were trying their best to play possum.  The young man felt that if he continued to run even just one more step that he would die on the sidewalk in sweaty clothes.  He had a better idea.  Walking.

He commenced to walk around Prospect Park starting at the Lincoln Street entrance.

"Much better." the lungs said.

He circled around the park on the walking path.  He saw several pickup soccer games, faster runners, and dogs.  The best sight was coming to the Grand Army Plaza.  A magnificent arch with a chariot atop it seemed to say, "Welcome to Brooklyn," to the young man.