Prior to coming to this great country, I’ve always been a big fan of the beginning of the new year. New Year, new opportunities, a fresh start, another chance to try again, and so on. Being from the Caribbean, the weather was never something I dreaded or even concerned myself with too much, as except for the threat of hurricanes, which thank God has always escaped my beautiful island home of Trinidad, we were pretty much a fair-weather people. So much so that we’ve coined the term “God is a Trini” and readily bandy it about at the drop of a hat. Of course that all changed when I lost my mind and moved to The Big A. I’m kidding of course, about the losing my mind bit anyway, though many people have suggested just that when wondering what on earth possessed me to move here, and well.. you almost have me there. However, in spite of the brutish cold weather when winter rolls around, this city holds a strange allure for me. Maybe it’s the big-city-bright-lights appeal, or, maybe it’s simply its endearing ability to make me feel right at home as part of the Caribbean diaspora within an eclectic mix of people from just about every major country on earth. I can belong here – in this melting pot of diversity – I can be angry, laugh, love, breathe, complain and have my voice heard. More important though, I can run and make a difference. And that, makes all the difference in the world to the place or places I call home.
So despite the wintry conditions we’ve experienced thus far, my running has managed to prevail. In fact, January may go on record as my most accomplished month of running, minus racing, all things remaining constant by the month’s end. To be fair, belonging to a running community has added tremendous motivation, inspiration and accountability to my already fastidious ways. Though I rather doubt, if left to my own devices, I wouldn’t be braving chilly night runs or escaping to other boroughs in minus temps for a weekend long run. Nor would I be running through snow and ice to rack up mileage. It is the rare combination of like-minded individuals, marathon training, January challenges, and new year goals that have all collaborated to make me into an almost super athlete this month, and, I can only hope, this year. Maybe this is the best reason of all for staying here, I’m part of an amazing runner-friendly community and it would be tough to give that up.
As it is, I’ve managed to get out there sun, snow, or rain for all but four days since January 1. As part of a group, I’ve participated in tempo runs, interval training, long runs and shorter runs. Running alone, I’ve focused more on building mileage and hill work. But hold on, we’re only three weeks into the year and have a long way to go yet. Looking ahead, this path is only sustainable if I remain committed to my group work and the shared values of my running community. For sure it is a helluva lot easier having others in your corner to bitch with about weather issues and the like, especially when they are as affected by said issues. May the bitching and running continue! 😉
To each his own, but I’m akin to a dog with a bone when I’m on a mission, and there was no way I was leaving the park without accomplishing what I set out to do – all 20 miles of it. I soon figured that with the crowds, the police, and the barricades, I would be better off sticking to the bridal path which was the only place left to run that wasn’t teeming with people, for the most part anyway. Turned out nowhere was sacred and it was being used as a parking lot, which provided me and – surprise – other runners with minimal running space. Seemed I wasn’t the only one clueless or maybe the others just didn’t care, their pace certainly not indicating any kind of urgency or purpose really. In any event, what saved the day and ensured some pluses for me was the fact that though I had gotten a late start – at the height of noonday, which is only possible during Fall, though I was still testing it as we were only into the second day of it – there was a slight coolness and breeze that ensured it wasn’t a humid eighty degrees. So while it was still hot and I perspired profusely, I was running on the inside trail and not the roadway and was therefore able to benefit from the shade from overhead trees and less impact to my knees. At certain points it was even possible to tune out the people factor and enjoy the music, which was certainly loud enough. Another plus was that the water fountains were still on to which I religiously succumbed, albeit unwisely.
If you’ve ever run in Central Park on a Saturday then you know it’s better suited to early am short runs. In spite of this, I was able to tolerate the tourists with their bikes and entourages – most New Yorker’s have little patience with their slow and wandering gait – and take in the beautiful spectacle that is Fall with its colorful trees and dropping leaves. In the strangest way that Autumn is wont to do, it was able to calm me, give me focus, inspire my thanks and appreciation and encourage my finish.
I recently did a long run that would probably label me insane by a lot of people, maybe you’re already convinced I am, truth be told, we runners are a crazy lot. I know I’m not the average person anyhow. I’m what my daughter terms “extra” and what I know to be type-A in nature, so it’s hardly surprising that I would choose to hop a train out to Long Island for an impromptu long run, at the suggestion of a friend after suffering through a week of a mother of a toothache. Maybe it was the chance to break the cycle of pain, but I over-zealously grabbed on to it with both hands and jumped right in to a hell of my own making.
Mindful of the cold air getting to my gum and the exposed nerve, I was pretty much mummified, which may have helped except that the pounding of my feet sent shards of glass shooting up the right side of my head. Duhh, you may say. Well, a girl could dream; dream of running fast and far enough that the pain would take flight, only it didn’t. I tried tailing my partner in the hopes that my pain wouldn’t jeopardise his run, I tried running alongside him & letting him chat it up to take focus away from the pain, I even tried running ahead, that lasted for all of one mile. In the end it proved rather difficult to pretend it away and I had to live with reducing my pace and keeping my mouth and much of my face covered.
While it was hell going, the return proved much easier even though my momentum was shot to hell. Thus, I was able to increase my pace somewhat and breathe easier as the air got warmer and I lost some of the covering over my mouth and face area. Physically, there was little I could do once reaching the beach, it was either Uber, swim or run. Since there was no chance of either of the former, it was down to make-up-a-mean-mind and get it done. And done I did..not in the time nor fashion I wanted, but hell, sometimes finishing just has to be enough.
runningwithfaith 