Category: running

Sun, Snow and Ice

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I ran 13 minutes without stopping. I ran from the apartment to the pier to the boat basin. I kept checking my watch to see if I’d broke my 13-minute barrier. It was a little cold and very sunny.

At one point an older woman was running slowly towards me. She looked like I might hope to look in 25 years – fit, a little wrinkled, game. She told me, “Be careful. It’s icy ahead.”

Yes, it was icy ahead. So I took small steps on the patches of glassy ice. I felt like a prize fighter warming up. I did not stop.

I felt good. I felt proud. I am like that older woman along the path by the Hudson River. I might run slowly, but at least I run. And I watch for those icy patches. 

Kickball

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I remember the shouts of kids on the corner. The kickball games.

The thwack of the ball as you kick it with the side of your foot. The sound of canvas High Tops hitting the rubber ball. You kicked it very very hard. You hold your breath. It is going far but you can’t watch the ball. Because you have to run. Run as hard and fast as you can. Footsteps faster than your breath as you make your way to first base. Safe at first. Stay. Stay. How come you didn’t get farther? It was such a good kick. It was out into the field. Way out.

No time for thinking. Your brother’s up to kick. Time to cheer him on.

Your cheer becomes a part of the shouts. The shouts of the kids on the corner of South Crescent and Belleplain. Park Ridge, Illinois.

Lindsey Jacobellis

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I feel really bad about Jacobellis wiping out. I know the feeling. I wipe out a lot. I wipe out almost everyday. But I glance around and hope no one is watching. Then, I get up. I dust myself off quickly and I go. I pretend nothing happened. “Huhn? Me? Wipe out? No! Not at all!”

It must be really stressful to have your whole future and identity depend on your balance on a board for a few minutes flying down an icey hill. A few minutes matters a lot. All the training. All the hours. All the work. Gone in an instant.

I gasp and feel sick when I see figure skaters fall too. I hate it. And yet, I keep watching and gasping and thanking God it’s not me. That when I fall, I hope no one laughs. I hope the cameras are not on me. That millions are not watching. Because life is hard enough. And everyone falls.

Joined the Manhattan JCC

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The weather is just way too cold to go running in Riverside Park. It’s like 20 degrees out. I’m sure some crazy people run in this weather, but not me. Sorry. So, two weeks ago, I got a pool membership for me and the family at the Manhattan Jewish Community Center (Like, $1,700 for a year! NYC!). Yesterday, I packed my bathing suit and cap. I said to myself, “MB, all you have to do is swim eight laps or stay in the pool for 12 minutes.” If you recall, I seem to only be able to run for 13 minutes and then am completely exhausted. So I was cutting myself a break.

I got to the pool deck and handed the guy my membership card. The big lap pool looked so cold. Just so big and daunting. But the small lap pool, was I imagining it? A steamy, warm mist floated above the little pool. “Can I swim in there?” I asked the nice young woman. “Yes,” she shrugged.

And I ran in the warm pool. I ran back and forth and I lasted 15 minutes, that’s longer than I had planned. And I felt so good.

Akumal Run

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Running in Akumal

I tried to run. I did. I made it about five minutes. I couldn’t go longer because of the humid air and the fact that I forgot to pack my sports bra. Also, I was running with college athlete, nephew Chris and my Middle School cross country competitor, son Hayden.

The two of them flew ahead towards Half Moon. And there was Catherine behind me barefoot, running, tagging along. I want her to be physical. I remembered some South African Olympian who ran barefoot so I didn’t exclude her based on no shoes.

Of course, I kept turning around to check on her. Just as Hayden in front of me, kept turning around to check on me.

I had an epiphany then. Maybe I somehow – unconsciously – encourage my kids to tag along because I want them to hold me back. It’s possible that I use my kids as an excuse for not running faster, farther, reaching some potential.

And if I do that, it’s okay. I am surely not alone. And maybe that’s it too. I like being not alone. And I let my responsibility (over-responsibility?) to others hold me back.

Ran This Morning

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Hopped over snow and ice in Riverside Park. Sun’s so bright when it’s cold.

Very little wildlife to remark on. Canadian geese, all hunched into themselves.

The cold air burns your lungs after 10 minutes.

But I listened to Pandora with Britney Spears – that keeps you running. She’s good music to run to. “You wanna piece o’ me?”

Where Is that Harbor Seal?

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On Saturday, I ran to the end of the 70th Street pier in Riverside Park. As I passed the kayak launch site, empty now, I wished that I could see that harbor seal again. The one with the one droopy whisker and the big black eyes.

About a year ago, Max, the doorman, told me a seal was hanging out at the boat basin. At dusk, I took the kids to see it. Our photo didn’t turn out, but there it was at the boat basin. The next week it was at the kayak launch site. It was yawning and stretching. Just lookin’ around.

We dialed 3-1-1. The animal rescue or marine biology people (or whomever 3-1-1 connected us to) said they would not come rescue it, because – from what we described, it was healthy.

After all, it was a harbor seal in a harbor. No matter that the harbor was the Hudson River.

On my weekend run this time, the only wildlife I saw were squirrels, ducks, and, I’m not sure they count – dogs. I didn’t even see one of the red-tailed hawks near the 80th street playground. They’re so vast you’d think they could swoop down and, with their talons, grab a toddler.

The best part of running in New York City is the wildlife. And when you run again, you remember.

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Adirondacks Revisited

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I ran with Hayden on the newly-paved Camp Dudley Road past the school house. We ran down towards the Stable Inn.

The field of wildflowers was all gone.

The best part of the run was the several dozen woodpeckers – small, fluffy, industrious – in a flock on the spindley trees of Lake Shore Road. One dive-bombed us, letting us know, “This is our world! Beat it! Aren’t you city folk? Get on back to your city!”

We did. Or at least walked back up to our house. We walked up the Old Dug Road.

Our toes got wet. After all, when you run through a field where wildflowers once grew and woodpeckers now rule, you are going to have to pay. It is a small price in discomort but there is a big pay off too.

The pay off is in knowing that there are places in this world that are not ruled by humans, there are places where woodpeckers rule.

One is too slow; the other too fast

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On Sunday, I ran with one of my 10 year olds and also my 12 year old.

My number one son kept telling me to take longer strides. My daughter kept stopping to stare at the Hudson. Note to self: Run alone next time!

The only time we were all at the same pace was at the counter of the Korean deli at 72nd and West End where we stopped for juice, gatorade, bagels, and sliced mangoes. We really enjoyed the run at that moment – the moment the run was over.  We then sat together in front of the statue of Eleanour Roosevelt at Riverside and 72nd.

I thought running would be a good way to bond with children. Now I think that sitting on a bench together is a good way too.

Running (Late)

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Written at a cafe in Chalon Sur Saone

I know it’s wrong. It’s very naughty. It goes against the rest of my family, especially my father and my sister. But the truth? I like the adrenelin rush of nearly missing the bus. I like running for the bus or train as it gasps, about to pull away. I like the heart pumping, sweat starting minor transgression of a near miss. I like to dash through red lights, swipe by chatty pedestrians. I like the damp at the base of my neck. I like the unknown. Will I make it? I like it when I do.