Central Park has turned into a rainforest. Somehow, I don't mind it so much when I am running. At least I didn't today. I spent half of my day in what a friend of mine called the deepest sacs of bureaucracy hell. Frustrating as hell, trying to correct mistakes made by other people, nobody wanting to take the responsibility for them, everybody passing me on to the next person. Finally I decided that nothing was going to be solved over the phone. I went to the office and told them I wasn't leaving until they gave me what I needed and I just stood there until they handed me the letter I had to send. Then a quick trip to FedEx and it was done and done. Anyway, sometimes you just have to put your foot down and take things into your own hands instead of worrying about other people doing their jobs right (which they often don't because let's face it, most people don't really care). Nevertheless, it was stressful.
So here is my theory: stress is not something recently invented in our crazy 21st century lives. Stress hormones were a very important survival tool for our ancestors, they most likely conferred an advantage when it came to running away from or fighting scary things. These days though, chronic stress does a lot more harm than there are advantages to acute production of those hormones that get the body ready to fight or flight. But here is the good thing: after a stressful day, I always want to run really badly and it usually feels awesome. Even if it's 95F outside.
In fact, I noticed that as I was running a quick loop around the reservoir, I was passing guys who looked much stronger than me. Then I started paying attention to people passing me. But there was nobody. Today, I was possibly the fastest person running around the reservoir. Well, at least during those 13 minutes. And at that part of the loop. All the smart people must have stayed home in their air-conditioned apartments.
I kept thinking about the positive things about the craziness I was doing. There are some, really. Like when you're running, you're generating more wind so it feels cooler on your skin - even though you're overheating from the inside. Then, the sweating. When I am in my street clothes, I hate hate hate sweating. Worry about the stains, smell, carry a deodorant with me everywhere, sometimes even a spare shirt. And then biking to work takes this to a whole other level. However, in my running clothes, it feel so natural to sweat. It cools me down. And call me crazy, but I do find skin glistening with sweat somewhat sexy. On a fit body, of course. And it shows how hard I am working.
Then there are the bugs. Once it gets dark, they swarm near the lights. You can't really see them until you are in the swarm. And then it's too late! I think I had a good protein-rich meal while running tonight. Ugh. Gross. And then the weird competitive guy. I never considered NYC runners to be super competitive when training. Everybody just does his and her own thing. People don't get bothered by others. That's NYC. Towards the end of my run, I slowed down quite a bit, so when I got to the finish, I wanted to push it a bit. So I started speeding up and as I was about to pass this guy who was running in front of me for a few minutes, as soon as he saw me from the corner of his eye, he started speeding up. So obvious. It happened 3 more times until I turned off to exit the park. So did he. And he continued to look over his shoulder and speed up every time I got too close. When I got to the street, I stopped at the red light. He kept running and looked several times to see where I was. Now, I couldn't tell if he was just too much of a guy to be passed by a girl, or if he kept turning around because he thought I was cute (most likely not, considering the state I was in), but I was laughing by the time he turned off onto a side street. All in all, a very good run. The cold shower after felt even better.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
California Dreaming
Sometimes I ask myself why I live in NYC. The weather is nice for about 4 weeks out of the year, it's dirty, crowded, smelly, people are not too friendly, it's hard to make lasting connections with anyone. And yet, there is something about it that makes it so exciting, especially for a European city-gal. But there are times, like right now, when I really want to get out of here!
As my flight was landing at JFK last night, I was not the least bit excited. The pilot announced that it was 90F at 9pm and I knew I had a long commute back to my apartment - unless I wanted to pay $50+ for a taxi to Manhattan. The slight hangover I was still carrying from the wedding I went to the previous night didn't help matters much. I was grumpy, annoyed, hot and reading a book that had a rather depressing ending, which I happened to read on the Long Island Railroad as it pulled in to Penn Station. NYC is a dirty place. People are rather unfriendly. The subway is confusing, even after living here for 6 years. How does it make any sense that the local train runs on the express tracks and vice versa? Argh.
But the real reason is, I just spent 3 perfect days in California. Monterey has got to be one of the most beautiful places ever! I haven't been to that many places in the world, but so far, it's on the top of my list. All year around, it's about 60F (hence, hotel even don't have A/C, which was very very upsetting for Kelsey), mostly sunny, scattered with rocky and sandy beaches, miles and miles of golf courses right by the ocean, scenic bike lanes, forests and lovely people. A little about the friendliness of the people in California. We arrive at SFO, check in at the rental car counter. Young guy helping us, immediately starts chatting. Seeing my foreign license, he starts asking about Hungary (he knew that Budapest was in Hungary right away!), about what we are doing in California, where we are driving to, how is the weather in NYC, what do we do; then we learn that he's going to do his MBA at Stanford starting in the fall and that he surfs. Of course, everybody in California surfs. A few hours later, we check in to our hotel in Monterey: the guy at the reception asks us if we think he has an accent, compared to that we are used to from NY. Then we have a whole conversation about accents, the weather in Monterey and about how many weddings the hotel is hosting that weekend. Kelsey and I keep looking at each other with bewilderment: why is everyone so friendly?
The weekend was perfect: a run on the beach, driving a Mustang along the 17-mile drive, attending an ocean-side wedding, seeing my friends being so in love and so happy, a fun reception, dancing until we couldn't stand anymore, champagne and cocktails, lots of pictures, the fanciest (and most expensive) but very delicious seafood dinner I have ever had, eating at In'N'Out Burger, twice. As I said to Kelsey after we were asked at the rental car counter "Would you like to upgrade to the Ford Mustang for just $15/day?", this is going to be a weekend of saying "Yes" to everything, and it was and it was the best!
As my flight was landing at JFK last night, I was not the least bit excited. The pilot announced that it was 90F at 9pm and I knew I had a long commute back to my apartment - unless I wanted to pay $50+ for a taxi to Manhattan. The slight hangover I was still carrying from the wedding I went to the previous night didn't help matters much. I was grumpy, annoyed, hot and reading a book that had a rather depressing ending, which I happened to read on the Long Island Railroad as it pulled in to Penn Station. NYC is a dirty place. People are rather unfriendly. The subway is confusing, even after living here for 6 years. How does it make any sense that the local train runs on the express tracks and vice versa? Argh.
But the real reason is, I just spent 3 perfect days in California. Monterey has got to be one of the most beautiful places ever! I haven't been to that many places in the world, but so far, it's on the top of my list. All year around, it's about 60F (hence, hotel even don't have A/C, which was very very upsetting for Kelsey), mostly sunny, scattered with rocky and sandy beaches, miles and miles of golf courses right by the ocean, scenic bike lanes, forests and lovely people. A little about the friendliness of the people in California. We arrive at SFO, check in at the rental car counter. Young guy helping us, immediately starts chatting. Seeing my foreign license, he starts asking about Hungary (he knew that Budapest was in Hungary right away!), about what we are doing in California, where we are driving to, how is the weather in NYC, what do we do; then we learn that he's going to do his MBA at Stanford starting in the fall and that he surfs. Of course, everybody in California surfs. A few hours later, we check in to our hotel in Monterey: the guy at the reception asks us if we think he has an accent, compared to that we are used to from NY. Then we have a whole conversation about accents, the weather in Monterey and about how many weddings the hotel is hosting that weekend. Kelsey and I keep looking at each other with bewilderment: why is everyone so friendly?
The weekend was perfect: a run on the beach, driving a Mustang along the 17-mile drive, attending an ocean-side wedding, seeing my friends being so in love and so happy, a fun reception, dancing until we couldn't stand anymore, champagne and cocktails, lots of pictures, the fanciest (and most expensive) but very delicious seafood dinner I have ever had, eating at In'N'Out Burger, twice. As I said to Kelsey after we were asked at the rental car counter "Would you like to upgrade to the Ford Mustang for just $15/day?", this is going to be a weekend of saying "Yes" to everything, and it was and it was the best!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
No committment.
When I hear stories like this, I think maybe I am not the defective one...
My roommate has been going out with some guy from an online dating site. After a month of dating and everything going very well, he sends her a text saying that he cannot commit to going out anymore and that she should go ahead and see other people. Reason: he has to focus on his career right now. You might ask what this career might be. Lawyer? Doctor? Studying really hard? No, he is the manager of a Vitamin Shoppe. Yeah, not a joke.
My roommate has been going out with some guy from an online dating site. After a month of dating and everything going very well, he sends her a text saying that he cannot commit to going out anymore and that she should go ahead and see other people. Reason: he has to focus on his career right now. You might ask what this career might be. Lawyer? Doctor? Studying really hard? No, he is the manager of a Vitamin Shoppe. Yeah, not a joke.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Loong week
I almost just wrote a whole post complaining. After two paragraphs, I deleted it all. I have not had the best of weeks, but it's just a week among the many that have already passed and that will come in the future.
Some setbacks - again - in the med school application process, a few weeks of delay, annoying but not the end of the world. I got way too frustrated with the system yesterday, spending much of the day on the phone with people who don't do their jobs correctly, trying to fix a trivial problem. By the time it was fixed, it was too late to do anything on my end, it was after hours and apparently, summer hours mean that the offices are closed on Fridays. Arghh! After the paralyzing realization that it was all out of my control, I was able to calm myself enough to drag some coworkers out for a beer (or in my case, 3), after which I felt much more relaxed. This morning, it was hard to get out of bed and get going, but once I was on the road, I realized this: delays, while annoying when you have worked hard to turn things in early, are somewhat of a relief when you realize that it means you have a few extra weeks to get everything else sorted out. While this part of my application is still pending, I have time to get all the supplemental parts figured out and hopefully, by the time I am finished with all that, the processing will also be done.
Today: hungover, hot and humid, new shoes giving me blisters, 50 screaming children on the subway, Au bon pain out of my favorite broccoli cheddar soup at lunch, ugh, what else? So I wondered around the hospital, trying to figure out what to eat. Cafeteria? Go back out into the heat? What to do? Roaming the hallways, I saw a familiar face: my Hungarian friend I met at a coffee shop some months ago now. We hadn't spoken in a while. We said hi, happy to see each other, happy at the chance to catch up. He was also wondering what to eat. So we went back to that same coffee shop, and he treated me for lunch. We even had dessert! And great conversation. So much better.
I am still glad it's Friday night and this week is almost over!
Some setbacks - again - in the med school application process, a few weeks of delay, annoying but not the end of the world. I got way too frustrated with the system yesterday, spending much of the day on the phone with people who don't do their jobs correctly, trying to fix a trivial problem. By the time it was fixed, it was too late to do anything on my end, it was after hours and apparently, summer hours mean that the offices are closed on Fridays. Arghh! After the paralyzing realization that it was all out of my control, I was able to calm myself enough to drag some coworkers out for a beer (or in my case, 3), after which I felt much more relaxed. This morning, it was hard to get out of bed and get going, but once I was on the road, I realized this: delays, while annoying when you have worked hard to turn things in early, are somewhat of a relief when you realize that it means you have a few extra weeks to get everything else sorted out. While this part of my application is still pending, I have time to get all the supplemental parts figured out and hopefully, by the time I am finished with all that, the processing will also be done.
Today: hungover, hot and humid, new shoes giving me blisters, 50 screaming children on the subway, Au bon pain out of my favorite broccoli cheddar soup at lunch, ugh, what else? So I wondered around the hospital, trying to figure out what to eat. Cafeteria? Go back out into the heat? What to do? Roaming the hallways, I saw a familiar face: my Hungarian friend I met at a coffee shop some months ago now. We hadn't spoken in a while. We said hi, happy to see each other, happy at the chance to catch up. He was also wondering what to eat. So we went back to that same coffee shop, and he treated me for lunch. We even had dessert! And great conversation. So much better.
I am still glad it's Friday night and this week is almost over!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Roses are red
They often say that people who were abused as children are more likely to become abusers themselves, unconsciously repeating what they experienced themselves. It's human nature, I suppose. When people feel hurt, they want revenge. Sometimes it's impossible to revenge those who wronged them, so they go on to hurt other people. And the cycle continues. I think it's the same with wars, revolutions, any kind of violence, whether that be physical or emotional. It happens every day on a much smaller scale. We have probably all experienced it to some extent. It's usually obvious when someone doesn't trust others to a pathological extent, it's likely that they'd been hurt badly before and it's likely that they will continue the cycle of hurting others.
It's never happened to me in such a clear and obvious way before. At first I actually didn't want to write about it because I didn't even think it was worth putting into words. Maybe it's not. Maybe it's just more waste of my time. But then I had some conversations with a couple of people today that made me think about it more again. The story goes, as usual, girl meets boy, they seem to like each other, they go on dates, try to get to know each other. When things seem to be getting a bit more intimate, boy disappears. Without a word. Not so unusual as I found out from talking to many girlfriends. Ironically, some men seem to have no balls. No spine. They are little crybabies at the first sign of a difficult conversation, run fast and run far. Which is all well, but the problem is, women tend to look inside for any possible reasons. "What did I do? What did I say?" It takes some strength to believe that it had nothing to do with me.
Months go by and it just comes up in a conversation with a mutual friend. He thinks it's time to share the story. No offense to this particular friend, who I know will be reading this, but really, you had to let me wonder for all these months? Did you believe for a moment that he would be the grownup to explain? But in any case, after 6 months, the big mystery was finally revealed. Without going into too much detail, he had been hurt by a previous girlfriend badly enough that he will probably never trust another woman ever again. With that being said, I don't think that gives him the right or the privilege to act the way he acted. We all get hurt at some point or another by people, whether that be romantic, friendship, family, or otherwise. But we don't have to go on acting like the whole world is out to hurt us because of that. I think that people who have any ability to look at the world from others' perspectives at least occasionally, who have any self-criticism, would be able to see the pattern here.
Ok, enough of that.
On a different note, last night I saw the man of my dreams on the subway. Dark, dreamy, with kind eyes and a great smile and awesome shoes. Reading the Times. And it also happened to be the only night ever that I was carrying a bunch of reddish roses with me (not from a man). When he complemented the flowers, I really just wanted to say that they were from a friend, instead, all I could think of was "they also smell very nice" and then somehow the opportunity was gone. I could only hope that he would get off at my stop, but he didn't and what are the chances that he might read the "Missed connections" section of Craigslist?? None.
It's never happened to me in such a clear and obvious way before. At first I actually didn't want to write about it because I didn't even think it was worth putting into words. Maybe it's not. Maybe it's just more waste of my time. But then I had some conversations with a couple of people today that made me think about it more again. The story goes, as usual, girl meets boy, they seem to like each other, they go on dates, try to get to know each other. When things seem to be getting a bit more intimate, boy disappears. Without a word. Not so unusual as I found out from talking to many girlfriends. Ironically, some men seem to have no balls. No spine. They are little crybabies at the first sign of a difficult conversation, run fast and run far. Which is all well, but the problem is, women tend to look inside for any possible reasons. "What did I do? What did I say?" It takes some strength to believe that it had nothing to do with me.
Months go by and it just comes up in a conversation with a mutual friend. He thinks it's time to share the story. No offense to this particular friend, who I know will be reading this, but really, you had to let me wonder for all these months? Did you believe for a moment that he would be the grownup to explain? But in any case, after 6 months, the big mystery was finally revealed. Without going into too much detail, he had been hurt by a previous girlfriend badly enough that he will probably never trust another woman ever again. With that being said, I don't think that gives him the right or the privilege to act the way he acted. We all get hurt at some point or another by people, whether that be romantic, friendship, family, or otherwise. But we don't have to go on acting like the whole world is out to hurt us because of that. I think that people who have any ability to look at the world from others' perspectives at least occasionally, who have any self-criticism, would be able to see the pattern here.
Ok, enough of that.
On a different note, last night I saw the man of my dreams on the subway. Dark, dreamy, with kind eyes and a great smile and awesome shoes. Reading the Times. And it also happened to be the only night ever that I was carrying a bunch of reddish roses with me (not from a man). When he complemented the flowers, I really just wanted to say that they were from a friend, instead, all I could think of was "they also smell very nice" and then somehow the opportunity was gone. I could only hope that he would get off at my stop, but he didn't and what are the chances that he might read the "Missed connections" section of Craigslist?? None.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Learn how to stop first!
You would not believe the things that happen on 116th St!
Friday morning, ~11am, 12ish-year-old girl fully covered in a long dress and a hijab, with roller blades, speeding down the street, obviously having no clue how to stop, screaming "Daddy" at the top of her lungs. Daddy frantically running after her, but no way he can catch up. People stop whatever they were doing, stand and stare. Some scream, nobody knows what to do. Finally, right before reaching Lexington and near disaster, she turns and hits the window display of a liquor store. I didn't see the impact, but she looked fine after. Standing on her blades still and no tears visible. A woman - a stranger, I imagine - had her arms around her. "Where the hell is your Father????" As I entered the subway, I looked back to see the father yelling at the poor girl, I really hope he didn't hit her.
Friday morning, ~11am, 12ish-year-old girl fully covered in a long dress and a hijab, with roller blades, speeding down the street, obviously having no clue how to stop, screaming "Daddy" at the top of her lungs. Daddy frantically running after her, but no way he can catch up. People stop whatever they were doing, stand and stare. Some scream, nobody knows what to do. Finally, right before reaching Lexington and near disaster, she turns and hits the window display of a liquor store. I didn't see the impact, but she looked fine after. Standing on her blades still and no tears visible. A woman - a stranger, I imagine - had her arms around her. "Where the hell is your Father????" As I entered the subway, I looked back to see the father yelling at the poor girl, I really hope he didn't hit her.
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