It's a gray day. It really feels more like late autumn than winter. Gray and wet. Not really cold but the damp makes the cold in the air feel raw. Not on the whole, in my opinion, a great day to be out.

I had planned on walking into the office as usual regardless of the fact that I had already tortured myself on the aerobic machines at the gym however, with one thing and another I was a bit later getting out of the house than I had planned. By the time I had reached Mass. Ave. I decided that if I wanted to get into the office early like I had planned, then I had better take the bus.

For those who do not live in Boston, the number 1 or Dudley bus has a reputation for being one of the worst lines in the city. I've known a few people who have worked for the T as drivers and the impression I have received from them is that the Dudley is a combination rite of passage for junior drivers and form of discipline for senior drivers that have pissed someone off.

I should say right now that after over 30 years of using that particular bus line that over all my experiences have not been that bad. It does tend to be very crowded during high use hours and very slow because of rush hour traffic. More than once I have beat the bus over the river walking. However, this morning I needed the bus.

Just as I got to the corner of Mass. Ave and Boylston. I saw the bus come into the intersection. This tends to be one of those "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situations. I had to decide if I was going to try and run, creating a little amusement for the driver so he could close the doors and pull away just as I was getting to the bus, or just walk and have the bus pull away just when I was within 10 feet of it.

As I said, I had got enough exercise, in my opinion, this morning on the stationary bike, so I opted to walk. As fate would have it, traffic was a bit snarled this morning and so by the time I was within 20 feet of the bus, it appeared that if I ran I could still catch it. So I ran and naturally the bus started to pull away.

Then it happened. The clouds parted, heavenly hosts sang, the bus driver looked in his mirror, saw me and.... stopped.

Not only stopped, but missed the opportunity to blow through a yellow light!

The day might be a wash out in all other respects, but I have been convinced that miracles really do occur.

I hope this doesn't keep up. I am not sure I want to find myself believing in god. Even if it's just the mass transit god.