The Wave
Funny story from Dominican Republic. Sort of.
Our hotel, Casa Colonial, was wedged in the middle of Playa Dorado, a World Bank-funded hotel, golf course and mall development roughly half-way between the Puerto Plata Airport, and Puerto Plata itself. Again, I can't say enough nice things about the hotel itself, and particularly the staff. Playa Dorado, was oddly-contrived (horse-drawn carriages to shuttle pedestrians the literally dozens of feet between hotels, for example) and antiseptic, though. It took me less than twelve hours to ...
And Baby Makes Three
I woke early -- too early -- on account of a message from my younger self.
Well, not exactly.
It was 29-year-old singer/songwriter Casey Shea (nearly ten years my junior) texting me in the small hours of the morning as he sauntered home from a rock show on the Lower East Side (as I have so many times before). The sound of his text shot through Abbi and my bedroom like a sonic boom. She stirred. I woke.
He suggested that we could hook up in Brooklyn to hand off a flash drive full songs for my long-gestating documentary, "Mister ...
My First Yoga Class
For months now, Abbi's been asking me to join her Saturday morning yoga practice. And for months, I'd put it off... until yesterday.
It only stands to reason that stretching, strengthening and meditating will go a long way to remedy a frenetic life punctuated by frequent, joint-pounding runs. As my marathon finishes have increased (eleven and counting), my back, hips and knees have grown more fragile. Sitting is often difficult on account of my piriformis syndrome. My doctor prescribed physical therapy and the gym. My physical ...
Ok
Last Monday afternoon, some 24 hours after my record-setting (well, my record, anyway) New York City Marathon finish, I settled into the massage table for my annual deep-tissue rub down.
My masseuse, Elana, was strong, driving her elbows deep into my hamstrings and calves. Somewhere between my shoulder blades, just before gingerly flipping me over, she hit a soft spot that set my nose running like a faucet. By Tuesday morning, my throat was sore. By Wednesday morning, I had a full-on head cold.
I slid sluggishly into the weekend ...
My Actual 3:51:05* New York City Marathon Playlist
A friend of mine emailed me a page from The New Yorker yesterday. The black-and-white cartoon showed two PacMan-like faces staring at one another. The face on the left's speech bubble said "Marathon, Marathon, Marathon, Marathon, Marathon." On the right, it simply said, "Zzzzzzz."
That pretty much sums up the days following any marathon, let alone a PR. It was my best marathon ever. I ran the first 13.1 miles in 1:57:02, the second in 1:54:04 to finish in 3:51:05 (an average speed of 8:50 per mile). I was the 9239th male finisher, and ...
The 3:51:05 New York City Marathon Playlist
With over 40,000 runners making individual Odysseys across 26.1 rust and wind-swept miles, the New York City Marathon is nothing if not cinematic. Add some stakes (like shattering an eight-year-old personal best) and a throbbing soundtrack, and the race is truly epic.
I've run to the music of this city for years. The rush of West Side traffic, lapping of Hudson and waves and rustle of Central Park trees was welcome refuge from headphones and headaches alike, a place where my thoughts could stretch out and get lost. This year, though, as ...
Run This Town
If I could run the marathon right this second, I would.
Sunday marks my tenth New York City Marathon in a row (and my eleventh overall). For the last four years, I've run with Abbi. I love running with her (though I'm not sure she'd always say the same about me). Our pace is governed by the collective; if she's wiped, I slow down and vice versa (and trust me, it's gone both ways).
This year, though, I'm running solo. I'm racing myself. My goal is to beat my 2002 personal best of 3:56:24. That means running 9:00 miles. Not ...
The Day I Almost Ran A Marathon (By Accident)
With all the glass, concrete and stone, it's easy to forget just how much water there is in and around New York City.
The City's total area is roughly 470 square miles, some 165 of which is water. From the Hudson and East Rivers to Flushing and Jamaica Bays, there are over a 1,000 miles of shoreline criss-crossed by some sixty bridges.
There are few more dramatic vistas than sun, sea and sky, which means that this great, big city is full of opportunity. One bridge in particular held my interest: The Triboro. It's not much to drive ...
Rockaway Beach Or Bust
I've lived in New York City for nearly fifteen years, but have only recently begun to gain some sense of its true cultural and geographical diversity.
Once again, I spent Sunday morning running the city. Last week, my goal was Hell's Kitchen to Coney Island. This week, it was Rockaway Beach or bust. Our friends, Rene and Marlyn had invited Chris, Meg, Abbi and I to join them for an afternoon of sun, and sand and salsa. The goal, then, was to jog some eighteen miles through Manhattan and Queens to their apartment where Chris, Meg and ...
Coney Island Or Bust
As the crow flies, Coney Island is a mere fourteen miles from Midtown Manhattan. Unfortunately, I am neither a crow, nor do I fly.
Last Monday morning, NY1's Pat Kiernan forecasted Sunday as a "perfect beach day." Which is when I hatched my plan to run to Coney Island, meet Abbi there, and spend the afternoon lounging in the sun and exploring Brighton Beach.
I spent all weekend preparing, which is to say, I didn't do anything at all but sit around carbo-loading and drinking lots of water. I was in bed by nine last night, and up this ...
