Running in Central Park, or FREAKOUTEVERYONE!!!


This weekend we jetted the four hours to NYC in hopes to see what neighborhoods are out there to house ourselves.  It was kind of a mix between eating/drinking and doing stuff weekend, and I HATE THOSE.  Nothing irks me more than interrupting eating and drinking for doing stuff.  I can’t do stuff with aplomb, and I can’t continue to eat and drink like I was before the STUFF happened.  So I’m generally in a state of crank.

Friday we “walked around” which means we got lost and I had a headache and had to pee a lot.  OK.  We like to sample bars when we’re looking around a place, and usually have a small beer or glass of wine and some food at each.  BUT.  By the time we’ve left and have been walking around for four minutes, I have to pee so we have to go in another bar pretty quickly.  See where this is going?  It’s like a never ending cycle of have to go in to pee, then stay for a drink, which makes me have to pee.  WHY CAN’T THERE BE LITTLE TOILETS EVERYWHERE THAT I CAN USE WITHOUT FEELING GUILTY AND HAVING TO PURCHASE SOMETHING?  I like drinking at these places, so it’s not horrid.  BUT INCONVINIENT.

Anyway.  Saturday was that awful mix of purpose and pleasure and IT WAS RAIN SNOWING.  IN LATE APRIL.  I was most displeased.  So that day kinda sucked.  Especially when you throw in NYC real estate brokers.  Urgh.

Sunday we had our long run, and after researching routes, the central park loop was brought to my attention.  Once around is about 6 miles, so twice around would be 12, around 2 hours, which is exactly the time for our long run.  We woke up early, got dressed and cabbed it to central park.  It was sunny and it wasn’t raining!  We get on the course, and… There is a road race!  With a bagillion people!  At 7.30something!  At once, the husband starts complaining.  Telling me we’ll have to get out of the park and run around it on the streets.  The way to make my head explode is to tell me to switch my well thought out plan. I WAS NOT GOING ANYWHERE OTHER THAN WHERE I WAS GOING. So we’re running, and the road in the park doesn’t have cars on sunday, so the left lane was race people, and the right lane was people out to run TWELVE MILES INSTEAD OF FOUR MEASLY MILES.  It was ok.  I was trying to be upbeat.  The running race took a left turn and alas, we were by ourselves.  Yay.  Except, WHY OH WHY DO THE RUNNERS, ALL FOUR OF THEM AT THAT TIME, NEED TO RUN AS CLOSE TO YOU AS POSSIBLE????????  There was tons of space!  Like, milions of miles because there were no cars and no race!  And I was always getting bumped into.  It’s like everyone had a bet to see how close they could come to me without touching.  AND A LOT OF THEM LOST THAT BET.  And the bikers!  They were like those little kids at the ski slopes, those moving dive bombers that try to freak you out by going reallllllyyyy close to you then swerving away.

Needless to say, at that stage, only four miles in, I was a complete crankpot.  The husband somehow convinced me (or rather, I was trying to COMPROMISE AND BE A GOOD LADYWIFE) to go out of the park on the west side and run on the street next to it.  Cue old people walking slow, lots of puddles, stupid brat kids, uneven pavement, and me!  Having an awesome time!?

We get back into the park, and I feel now as if I’ve run a bagillion million miles and we have to go around AGAIN.  This time, the race people are gone, but the crowds are here, and there are more aim-for-you runners.  I think I yell whispered at the husband a few miles back so he’s not talking to me, I can’t feel my legs, and I’m convinced I’ve run the pace of a handicapped snail.  OH AND THERE IS A HUGE HILL ON THE COURSE.  LIKE A LOT OF THEM ACTUALLY.  and I hate hills.  They make me soooo mad.  Here I am, looking happy about to run in Melbourne.  Imagine the opposite of this picture.  That’s me and hills.  

I don’t know how I managed, but I ran the full 2 hours.  I was pretty much at the end of the run, and was thinking I could maybe keep going, but I was in such a foul mood and everything hurt I just stopped.  The husband sped off in anger and flailing limbs and I walked the rest back to the start.  I was thinking I was a failure and maybe had only run 9 miles but I didn’t reallllyyyy care.  IT WAS A HORRID RUN and a pretty horrid morning.  When I got back to Boston, I plugged in my run tracker thingymabob and I HAD RUN 12 MILES, AT A REALLY GOOD, FASTER THAN IMAGINED PACE.  So I quickly ran the the husband and showed him how great I was.  HE WAS WRONG, I WASN’T RUNNING LIKE A SNAIL, I WAS AND AM AN AMAZING PRINCESS OF RUNNING.  To which he replied, you were still really annoying and yelly and complaining the whole time.  TO WHICH I REPLIED, I AM SO AWESOME.

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One Response to “Running in Central Park, or FREAKOUTEVERYONE!!!”

  1. […] a sad tale.  My clever husband might have trained too hard back when we did our EPIC HORRID NYC RUN and since then, he has had a lot of pain on the outside of his foot.  I keep trying to give him […]

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