The grey dawn stretched over the Earth as I ran across the FDR bridge. The traffic was light and the bridge walk empty. I enjoyed the view up and down the river to where the water and hills became just shades of blue. Drinking it in, I got to the mid-point of the bridge when I was hit violently in the head by what felt like a falling brick. I was stunned. Wheeling around to face what I feared was a would-be attacker, I saw an empty expanse. I turned again and again, and saw no one. I looked at my feet, no debris; looked skyward, nothing amiss. With both hands covering my aching head, I saw a hawk floating effortlessly away from the bridge. He turned, dove beneath the superstructure and disappeared. I couldn't be sure if it was a Red-tail or Peregrine. Was I viewed as a threat to their unseen nest and thereby deserved a strong knock on the head? I continued somewhat haltingly across the bridge wondering if I would be hit again. I ran home imagining the ghost-winged bird haunting my back. I will venture out again, but perhaps I need a helmet in case I again run into the cross-trainer from the School of Hard Knocks.