Go Running.

If you're in a new city--go running. If you're in a familiar city--go running. Not athletic, you're thinking? Don't like running, you protest? Yours truly is a red-faced, crooked-legged asthmatic runner. I assure you, it is not a pretty picture. Go running anyway.

When I was in Paris--and not consuming chocolate cake and lemon tarts--I would attempt to mitigate the aforementioned habits by working out. I didn't have a gym, so I had to learn to run. (In Paris, who has a gym? There is no local need. Out late at an art show one night, my host mother turned to me out of "kindness" and said, "Just let me know when you're hungry. I cut my hunger with cigarettes and coffee." I, however, was still more human than Parisian waif.)

I started running around L'Arc de Triomphe. I remember thinking how fortunate I was to see such an iconic beauty while doing such a commonplace activity. When I moved apartments I transferred to Parc Monceau. It was a lovely park with iron gates and a carousel that I probably would have missed had I not run there. Naturally bad and relatively new to running, I could only go for five or ten minute intervals before a walk break--but I never regretted a single outing.

Once again I am in a post-tourist pre-native in between zone. Planning to stay more long-term than in previous relocations, I am desperate to balance a comfortable, livable pace with a itch for exploration and disdain for complacency. This past week I needed to get out of the apartment. Tuning into my pre-programmed Running Mix, I set in my ear buds and set off running. I ended up in Battery Park.

Lining the Hudson is pathway that evolves from open harbor views to canopy-covered green to stone set boardwalk. As I ran, to my left I saw the sun setting over the water. To my right I saw various walks of life as I ran by. I saw a handicapped people and Iron Men, babies and scrabbling seniors, friends laughing and couples intertwining. Apparently, Orthodox Jews use Battery Park as a date spot--overlooking the water as the Kippahed man sits all the way on the opposite side of the bench as his pious date. I smiled at all of it in passing.

Sometimes you have to run to think. Sometimes you have to run to stop thinking. Sometimes you have to run to be alone. When I ran, I didn't feel alone--I felt connected.

The weather was perfect; it was breezy, warm and sunny. I enjoyed my outing, but I vowed to go back with a camera to capture some of those moments. 

When I saw the sun setting over the river it was like running around L'Arc de Triomphe or walking across the Brooklyn Bridge to commute from work back home. How can something so culturally coveted be my everyday life?

That's why I went running. (Don't worry--it wasn't all zen and glamour. I was quite sore the next day.)