Happiness Comes on Quiet Feet

Back in NY late Thursday, up early working on Friday, hunched in front of the computer or tied to the cell phone, except for the hour I took to get a long overdue MRI for the pain in my back. Worked long into the night so that I could avoid working on Saturday.

Ah, Saturday. Up early, the routine of coffee, english muffin with PB, dress, lather up with body glide, strap on the Gu pack and out the door. West to 5th Ave, then south, running in front of the doormen and the the CBS morning show, down to around 42nd street where I cut west again. I didn't intend to run through Time Square, but that's where I ended up, dodging map-wielding tourists and construction. I keep going west, again to the Hudson river, turning south and running down the path. The air is cool and foggy, and I can barely see NJ across the river, so I concentrate on the path before me and the way my body feels. I stop after about an hour at the Runners' Station just south of Chelsea Piers, a respite with tissues, bandades, body glide, and most importantly for me, water. The people that man them are runners, friendly, asking how many miles and geniunly interested in your blisters. I grab a bottle of water, Gu up, chat for a moment with the woman at the station, then head south again, feet moving slow but steady, a pace I know I can maintain for a while. I have my iPod in my ears, my mind working though, thinking of work, dinner, what I need to do today.

I run all the way down to the Battery, weaving through the lines waiting for the Circle Line tours and the homeless people. I've run an hour and a half, and so time to loop back up, jogging steadily until around 42nd street. Suddenly I'm bored, distracted, can't keep my mind on the path, and I make a critical mistake. I walk. I manage to pick back up around 50th, jogging to 69th, where I climb the stairs from the path to the street in front of the Trump Tower. I'm thirsty, tired, and the roads are hilly and winding, more than my brain can manage at this point. I wander east, across the West Side (I still love it over there), through the park, and voila, I'm back behind the Met, and almost home.

Peace out babies