Some might describe me as obsessive. Others might say passionate. The rest might just say I know what I like and lean into it. Whatever you call it, once I decide something agrees with me it appears in my life on a regular basis. I love hard boiled eggs and so I eat two of them almost every morning. At one point, a co-worker called me chickpea because well, I eat a lot of chickpeas. I think you get the point.
When I first moved to New York a million years ago, I decided I wanted to be able to run a lap around Central Park without stopping, so every Saturday and sometimes also Sunday I ran in the park. After some number of months*, I was able to run a lap around the park without stopping and so began my obsession/passion for running. I started running races and then I ran a half-marathon and then I decided to run 300 miles in one summer and then I decided (after much convincing by Lissa) to run a half-marathon in every state before I turn 50.
The newest version of my love for running is my habit of running a 9-mile run on a Sunday (usually with Anne and Joe). Sometimes I run up the West Side Highway and run out the piers to add some mileage without feeling like I am getting too far away from my home. Sometimes I run straight up and then right back down. On a rare occasion, I run up and then I take the subway back down again – not the most time-efficient, but good on the days when I lack motivation**.
This morning Anne and I may have taken it to a new level. Anne and I decided a few weeks ago that we really wanted to run all the way to the George Washington Bridge. As some of you may know, I live very far downtown and Anne lives a little bit less downtown, so running to the bridge would be at least 9 miles and would require taking the subway home/to brunch in our running clothes. I have been to the George Washington Bridge many times in my life – mostly on my way to the Catskills while in a bus or car, but never on foot. This run was one of the best I have ever had. It wasn’t the biker that nearly mowed me down or the lack of working water fountains at about 96th street or the resulting chafe marks on my arms – it was three things: 1. Seeing the bridge from a completely different angle 2. Seeing the Little Red Lighthouse that can only be seen from the water or from under the bridge 3. Having a few extra minutes*** to catch up with Anne and plot our next run(s)…because once that one was finished I was ready for the next. I am, after all, obsessed/passionate.
*like I said, it was a million years ago
**Sometimes I can run further if I don’t have to turn around and
retrace my steps.