清晨,东边的天空微微露出鱼肚白。北京,还在睡梦之中。从木樨地到钓鱼台的一条洁净、平直的大道上,一位满头银发的老人.慢跑过来了。他早过古稀之年,但并无“龙钟”之态,脚步毫不见老年人的迟滞。年复一年,日复一日.他总是这个时候跑在这条路上。 Early morning, the eastern sky slightly exposed white. Beijing, still sleeping. Jogging over a clean, straight avenue from Muxidi to Diaoyutai, an elderly man with silver hair. He had an early age, but there is no “dragon bell” state, the pace of the old man’s hysteresis. Day after day, day after day, he is always on this road at this time.