I admit, this blog has taken a bit of a backseat over the past few weeks as I have transitioned from Long Islander Who Lives in a House to New Yorker Who Lives in an Apartment Again. My life has been nonstop packing, unpacking, buying boxes, flattening boxes, throwing things away, buying things, organizing, cleaning, putting things in drawers and on shelves and generally trying to create a nice living space for myself and the two dogs I inherited from my mom who I still sometimes have trouble calling “my” dogs even though they are now.
Month: May 2018
I ran a half marathon Saturday morning. It took me an hour to get there. Four hours and 13 minutes of sleep. Up at 4 am. Rained the entire time. Chilly. Damp. Wet shoes, wet socks. No headphones, no music.
The Brooklyn Half is the largest half marathon in the country. This year’s race had 25,386 finishers. This is… very a lot. The size of the race made for a few inconveniences – mostly in terms of waiting times – but once it began, it never felt too crowded or unmanageable. I had a blast. I’m so glad I did it.
How is it Friday already? How have I lived in the city for a whole seven days and not even posted about any of my first week’s runs (other than the inaugural one on Saturday night)? I am running the Brooklyn Half tomorrow morning and will have a LOT to write about (95% chance of rain!!!), so let’s do this.
I’ve been thinking about how our lives are broken up into phases. They’re based on relationships we’re in, places we live, jobs we have; for some of us, kids or pets. I look back on my life and see it in chunks: the two-year relationship with whats-his-name; the four years I worked in HR; the seven years I lived in that one apartment in Astoria. Sometimes these overlap. I can usually remember what year I did something by remembering which boyfriend I did it with, or where I was working at the time.
This might be the busiest couple weeks of my life, hence my lack of recent posts. Of course, I have managed to make time to run, because priorities. Work. Run. Sleep. Eat. Pack. Maybe shower.
I am moving this weekend. After 17 months living at my mom’s house on Long Island, I will be moving back to the place I called home for 19 years: NYC. I knew this day was coming, but it’s hard to believe it’s almost here. It seems a lifetime ago that I decided to stay with my mom and drive her around for what we thought would be two or three months of cancer treatment – simple treatment, we were told, but it would impede her ability to drive. Of course, those two or three months turned into 11, and then she died. And there is no longer a need for me to live in her house.
Speed work day! It was so wonderfully warm on this morning. Even before dawn, when I went out in the backyard to let the dogs pee, it honestly felt tropical. A tank top and shorts was the way to go for the run; I even would have been fine in a sports bra, and now that I think of it, I’m not sure why I didn’t do that.