On Saturday mornings I usually drive over to my sister-in-law’s house to continue our tradition of long Saturday runs. Because of my aging, the long runs are shrinking and my pace is slowing. One of these days she will opt out entirely and tell me her yoga class conflicts with our run. Then one Saturday weeks or months later, I will spot her sprinting with a group of younger runners. Sometimes being able to see into the future is more of a curse than a gift. But I digress. Every Saturday en route to the run, I feel bad when I pass by Lowe’s in South Seattle. The day laborers see me in a pickup truck and make an extra effort to flag me down. I feel like I am snuffing out a glimmer of false hope. In December, the rain has been pouring and noticeably fewer workers have been presenting themselves for hire. Yesterday morning I only saw one person. Bad weather may be a reason but I hope regulars are missing for seasonal work opportunities. I was tempted to pull over and ask the one last laborer if he was interested in a job running a ten miler for me. But my sister-in-law might not appreciate a new jogging partner on short notice. She would likely tell me about her new yoga class that was scheduled on short notice.