I wonder if I’m approaching the seven year itch with my days in New York. I don’t swoon when I land at JFK after time away; I am not breathtaken on crisp city mornings. Something changed in me, in the spring-into-summer, and maybe it was that whole Frederic-Bill-Car Accident-Relapse clusterf*ck. Maybe that chipped the glossy exterior right off this city that I love(d).
Or maybe, as in any relationship, it’s merely…time.
I’m left with a bag of questions squirming like goldfish. And I find that…annoying…in the lead-up to the NYC Marathon, which is the New Yorkiest event of the year; the thing that makes me feel so connected to the City that I’ve always loved.
With all of this in mind, and back in Manhattan, I set out for 35 miles+ on foot through 3 boroughs over the course of 24 hours. It wasn’t intentional. It was…me going to extremes, again.
But I was trying to get the feeling back.
Saturday 15 October 2011: Roosevelt Island Run:
Down First Avenue; over the 59th Street Bridge (does anyone call it the Ed Koch Bridge?). The 59th Street Bridge is my nemesis; where I inevitably hit the Marathon Wall. I hate it. I hate running it; I detest the rattle and the clank.
So like I do: I face that sucker head on. Because I am the woman who does the things she doesn’t like — eats carrots; practices forgiveness; walks the dog while nursing a killer hangover from whisky or air travel.
Sunday 16 October 2011: Three Bridges Run
Last long run of the year before the New York City Marathon. Please, God, rekindle my romance with this City before the big day. I feel like a bride ambivalent about her impending nuptials (ohshitiknowthisfeeling).
(I do. I do want to do this. I do want to get up at 4:45am and walk the dog and go running with my Team. But I do want to hit snooze and make that 5:15…5:20…5:25. I do, for some reason think it’s a good idea to walk across Central Park to Tavern on the Green to the start. You know, because it’s morning.)
(Up the Westside Highway; around Riverside Park; down the West Side; across City Hall Park — all my old haunts…then across Bridge #1, The Brooklyn Bridge — Lady Liberty out in New York Harbor in the distance)
(There was another 59th Street Bridge crossing here — but I had run a terrible 15 miles to this point, so there are no photos)
But I didn’t feel any different after all that mileage. I felt like a runner, sure. But the streets hadn’t made me feel like a brand New Yorker. I used to long for New York when I went away; now I’m homesick for places I’ve never lived.
So come on, you silly fool; you City that never sleeps. Keep me up all night. Drive me crazy. Make me fall in love all over again. Because I’m tired; I’m shot. I don’t know how much more I’ve got.
Darling, remind me why I go to extremes.