Rachel Lu
I can run, but I could never run away from fate.
Twenty years ago, on a rainy Sunday afternoon, I had my first weekend visit to Manhattan. I had just landed a job downtown and settled in New Jersey, anxious about all the uncertainties. I emerged from the subway with the cloudy November sky overhead, my mood equally gloomy. That is, until I was met with a large uniform crowd, many of them covered by the same silvery rain poncho. With the rain drops bouncing off their shiny poncho and bursting into countless micro rainbows, all the faces shared a similar glow, even though they were each of a different color, age, and hairdo. Intrigued and lifted by the festive atmosphere, I asked one of the people, “What is going on?” “We just completed New York City Marathon,” he replied. As I was digesting the term “New York City Marathon” little did I know that that day I embarked on my voyage.
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