Running On Empty

So I run... it's what I do... and I don't mean away from problems or confrontation. I mean I put on Asics, shorts, and t-shirt and physically run. Like today, I ran the seven miles from my work to my apartment over the Brooklyn Bridge up the east side and then over the Williamsburg Bridge...

I have been running ever since I was 4 or 5 years old when my parents used to take me to Harkness Park in Waterford, CT and race me against other kids my age like a greyhound dog. But unlike most sports' parents who burn their kids out by the time they are 13, mine really did not bring me to those races to win, they just wanted to try to calm me down for ten minutes of their lives. (really when I think about it, i probably should have worn a helmet when I was little)

To this day, I continue to do it, and as a result, the obsession has continued to grow in that I recently completed my first marathon. Through it all, however, I think that the driving force behind my love of running is that I love the solidarity (I run alone, always) and I love the fact that through running you get a unique perspective of the area in which you live because instead of being underground or in a car or whatever, you are exposed to everything around you on a very unprotected basis. I get to run over bridges instead being transported across them... I feel the wind, the rain, the snow, and the sun without a buffer.

Running provides me with something unique, something pure, and admittingly something completely crazy. In the end, however, that is why I love it because too often, I think that we stay inside when it rains or snows or never get to enjoy a really nice day and especially in New York City where we spend most of our time in an office or under the ground and that exposure passes us by. But when I run, I get to deal with all of it and frankly, I love it.

Like a fine wine...

It's weird how as you get older life things that never bothered you, start to be source of annoyance on a daily basis. Maybe not a source of annoyance but they start to be something that you reflect on while you are riding the subway on the way to work next to some drunk dude who clearly started the morning by skipping the shower and heading straight for a Four Horsemen chased by some Cognac (which I had mixed with piss once). The other day I had one of these moments where I realized that soon my parents will be the same age as my grandparents were when I had my first coherent memory of them. Meaning that since most of grandparents have had a finite existence since then, I can calculate how many more years I have with parents. And let me tell you that fucks me up because in turn that soon means at some point when"little me" i.e. my son or daughter roams the earth, he will first realize he has grandparents and then potentially at some point in the future, he too will be sitting at a computer (which will probably be embedded in his brain at that point) discussing how his dad is old. .. and how much time he has left...

When you are critical, then make lemonade...

It all started a week ago when I commented on a buddy of mine's own blog. I was critical of the content of one of his postings and let him and its subject know it. But something did not sit quite right with me about the situation. I mean there he was just posting about his everyday life and there I was like a shark on blood going for the layup by attacking his musings without really putting myself out there for public analysis myself.

So after a little liquid courage, here I sit, laptop at my knees (away from the crotch as to not cause me to be sterile) ready to reveal to the world my inner most thoughts. I cannot promise much to be honest with you, kind reader. Most of the time, I am just a hyper guy who is never happy with anything that I do or accomplish. I am always searching whether it be for the meaning of life, my next career twist, or my house keys and wallet which I lose on average once a day... But hopefully, I will write atleast once a week and you will read... (and by you, I mean Greg, Dan, and Ian cause I really don't think anyone else out there in Blog obsession land gives two pints of piss about some angry Nutmegger who moved to NYC and now just wants to punch most of the people he sees on the subway platform in the throat)

OH what I forgot to mention is that I am angry, always. I have been angry for atleast the 11 years ago. What triggered this anger is really unknown to me but I think that it has to do with not being happy. As a result, I basically spend most of my day being unhappy and then getting angry about being unhappy which of course leads me to become angrier... it is a recipe for success if there ever was one.

So I leave you with that as the intro... what comes next is anyone's guess, but I am pretty sure I will be pissed off with whatever it is...