So I’m sobbing as I run. This is not normal for me. I’m actually not much of a crier at all. Still, I’m running on Whitehaven Road. The same road Brian Castner mentions in his first book. It is a desolate road, not because the road is unpopulated, because that can be cool, but because it's sparsely populated, with cars whizzing passed, driven by people you can’t see, and houses set back, inhabited by people. Possibly.
Anyway, I’m listening to the end Hamilton soundtrack. It is stunning. Absolutely stunning. I’ve got tears coming down both sides of my face for the first time since I was like eight, right.
And here comes another early morning runner. Big, tan guy. I press my lips together so hard my chin makes a deep ‘n’ shape. The guy looks at me and nods. He must think I’m on mile 20, pounding out the hard run.
As opposed to, I don't know, mile two. Which is fine with me.
Hamilton, by the way, is even better than whatever hype you’ve heard.