Highlights:

• ran down the “Hill of Death“
• walked 3 out of 4 long hills
• walked the way home, too
• looked like this:
  

Elsewhere, the Mets beat the Cubs 5-1. I was there (UPDATE):

From left to right: Julie, Kathryn pretending she had fun watching the Mets beat her beloved Cubs 5-1 and me!

Yesterday’s Route:

My Short list (in order of preference):

• El Obsceno Pájaro de la Noche/The Obscene Bird of Night (been thinking of giving it another try)
• Catcher in the Rye (nope, never read it)
• Nickle and Dimed (how I’ve been feeling during this tax season)
• Random Family
• Son of a Witch

But then I remembered that Daniel had read a few months ago a book about running. Back when he bought it, I thought “yuck, how boring!” Even now, I have to admit, I have my doubts as to the entertaining value of a book whose title is “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running.” I mean, come on. What’s up with that title, anyway? But Daniel swears by Murakami so I decided to give it a go.

I’ve only read the introduction, so don’t expect a review of the book here. No, I want to talk about a specific quote from the book. It’s a type of mantra one marathon runner says he uses during his runs:

“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.”

Now, I’m sure you and I can find a thousand ways in which these two simple sentences can be applied to everyday life. But I like to keep things simple, so I decided to put the mantra to the test in what else, but running. Well, to be exact, I thought, what if the simple act of reciting this mantra as I’m running up the Hill of Death (a.k.a Fort Tryon hill parallel to Dyckman St) can propel me to reach the top w/out resorting to that other dreadful way of getting from here to there known as walking?

Short Answer: Not really.

Long Answer: Watch the video below (WARNING: possible side effects include dizziness, shortness of breath and nausea)

I have to say that Murakami (quoting the runner) has a point. Suffering, in many cases, IS optional. And so, I choose not to suffer. At least not that much.

Yes, I would have felt incredibly proud had I kept running up that god forsaken hill. But since I don’t carry a defibrillator with me on my runs I’d rather be safe than dead.

The good news for today is that we finished the whole loop around the park. We usually stop at Sir William’s dog run for Zeus to get some play time, but because it was a bit wet today we just kept going home.

All in all, a good run.

PS. In honor of Murakami I decided to change the name of the blog to “Running is Optional” from “nyMESH.” What was up with that title, anyway?

Today’s route:

It’s been a week since my last post and not for lack of running. I guess this is going to get some getting used to.

The most important news to report is that the crew (boyfriend and dog) and I are back on the hard Fort Tryon route. Now, for those of you who don’t know the park, Fort Tryon is located on top of one of the highest points in Manhattan. The views are gorgeous and the hills, for the untrained legs and hearts, are killers.

It’s a small park – only 66 acres compared to our neighbor Inwood Hill Park’s 196, or Central Park’s whopping 840 (for those of you New Yorkers who don’t venture past the hundreds). But there are few trails to choose from and because of its somewhat hilly terrain it’s possible to increase the difficulty level without adding miles to your run.

When we began running a few weeks ago we started the loop around the park at the bottom, at Broadway and Bennett. In those few weeks I saw little improvement because when you start at the bottom, well, you have to go up. We decided (read: I forced Daniel) to start at the top so that I could develop some stamina (and confidence). After all, the main issue for me is that my heart wants to jump out of my chest and my lungs can’t keep up with all my panting. I think I finished the loop the first day we changed routes. I decided to blog a few days later, after I proved that that first finish was not a fluke (there are three uphill sections on that route that I wanted to make sure I had conquered). I was so excited.

Anyway, I have been dreading switching back to our original route because I was afraid that if I had to stop and walk part of the way, I would be discouraged and bye bye running, see ya’ blogging.

But I’m happy to report that we have been taking the hard track for the last couple of days and though I’ve had to stop (both days) on that damn hill that runs parallel to Dyckman street, it’s getting much easier. For starters, it’s the only section that I walk around our loop. But most importantly, I’m running half way up the hill. Woohooo! May not look seem much, but trust me, it is a fucking big deal for me.

Also, today was the first time that I actually started to feel my legs working. Usually, I’m too concerned trying not to get a heart attack or stop breathing to notice a lot of action on my legs. But today, as I was going up the stairs near the Fort Washington entrance to the park, I felt it. I felt like I was at the gym doing some type of leg work. Not sure which one. Never went to the gym long enough to learn the name of the machines. But it was there. And so was the panting. But still, another benchmark to celebrate.

Anyhoo, enough about all this running nonsense.

We are uncles! Yes, my friends, a few weeks ago we noticed a pigeon had built itself a nest just outside our living room window, on top of an old A/C. Well, as it’s to be expected, we’ve been keeping vigil (read: Daniel has been keeping vigil) over the pigeon and a couple of days ago we saw mama pigeon feeding its tiny chicks. I only saw one. But Dan says there’s at least two. I don’t have a photo yet, but in the meantime, here’s one of the proud mother:

It's Like National Geographic Just Outside My Window

I’ll be sure to post another image if I can catch a sight of the little ones again.

Oh, and just in case any of you (read: Daniel) are wondering about my choice of image for the post, I went with a picture of Zeus for this one because: 1) he’s cute, 2) this is what he does after our morning run, and 3) he has been a good dog today…unless trying to puke on my brand new rug for the 3rd time in as many days counts for bad behavior.

UPDATE: Mama pigeon left the nest momentarily to go fetch some food for the offspring and I had a chance to snap some pics before the battery on my camera went kaputz. As you can see, and I forgot to mention earlier, baby pigeons are yellow! (Sorry for the bad colors – grimy window. Let me know if any of you have tips on how to clean third floor windows.)

Cheeky Chick

Today’s route:

I’ve walked the Great Wall – not the whole stretch but a nice bit. I’ve hiked the Inca Trail and the Franz Joseph glacier. I’ve horse-trekked the hills of Songpan, the trails of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and through lush coffee haciendas. I’ve biked down the “most dangerous road in the world” and across the Chinese grasslands. I’ve kayaked the bioluminiscent bay in Vieques. I’ve jumped off a bridge, dived among corals and traveled down a few rivers.

And I’ve done it all bitching.

Yes, I’ve bitched my way around the world. Hell, I’m bitching right now, so I guess I don’t even need to leave home to bitch (in fact, some of the best bitching happens right here on this couch I’m sitting on right now).

But my greatest source of sorrows when I travel hasn’t been the food that I can’t swallow, the pit toilets that I can’t yet get my head around (hmm? maybe that’s the problem), the fact that I hate flying more than any other thing it this world or my fellow travellers’ love of small talk (where are you from? where are you going? where have you been? yadda, yadda, yadda.).

No. I bitch because I hurt. I hurt because I can’t breath. I can’t breath because I’m lazy.

Oh, yes, I’m lazy.

But as lazy as I am, I keep putting myself in positions where I, well, where I have to bring it.

And so it is that for the last what?, six years or so, I’ve been making the New Year’s resolution to run the New York City marathon. But, please, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m not running the New York City marathon this year either. But for the first time since that awful day on sixth grade (more on that later) I’ve put on my almost brand new,  4-year old pair of tennis shoes and I’ve hit the asphalt (thankfully, not face first yet).

Yes. I’m running. This is my fourth week in and it’s one of those times in my life (like that time when I panicked and had to put myself together, saving myself from drowning on my first dive) where I’m feeling pret-ty proud of myself.

So, today (while I was supposed to be working on other stuff – more on that later) I’ve decided that I want to keep track of my progress by doing that other thing I keep putting off: writing a blog.

And there you have it. What turns our lives take?

I run.

I blog.