Running Into--and With--Old Friends

Courtesy New York Road Runners

Last night, I set out for an easy run at my old striding grounds at McCarren Park and I decided to represent the home team by wearing my North Brooklyn singlet. As usual, I started by cruising past the track to see if there was anyone I knew.

Not surprisingly, Coach Kiki was in the house, with a very full training class and that made me very happy. I was even more pleased to find a huge group of runners milling about the starting line, and they turned out to be my old buddies, the North Brooklyn Runners, along with some guests from the Dashing Whippets. They were about to start a track session and I was glad to join in.

McCarren Park has a beautiful track but almost always full of human obstacles—adults, children, soccer balls, bikes, strollers, and the like. Nevertheless, it was a quality workout and much, much better for the company. They had runners of all abilities and many, many interesting people to talk to.

Even though I live in Charlottesville, North Brooklyn is still my team for the time being and it was very amusing to explain my arrangement over and over during the recovery jogs.

Runner: “So you live in North Carolina?”

Me: “No: Virginia.”

Runner: “But you’re wearing the shirt.”

Me: “Well, I still live here part time. I used to live in the ‘burg but I still work for Road Runners so I’m back in the neighborhood on the regular.”

Runner: “I remember you: welcome back.”

Without fail, they all said that last part. I could not imagine a more friendly group and it really made my day to happen upon them.

The fellowship got even better when the group went to the Turkey’s Nest to rehydrate with huge beers served in Styrofoam cups. They can all run but some of them are dangerous pool players as well.

Running into friends is one of the very best things about the City. It can be a very lonely place but company often materializes in surprising ways, refreshing like a desert oasis. Those human interactions are a big, big deal for me.

It was an unexpected way to spend the evening: spontaneous and fun, and very healthy. What could be better?

Cabin Fever

Measure my life in dips in the "Pool of Men" and I won't complain.

Every summer, we make at least one pilgrimage to our friend James' cabin on the Maury River in the Goshen Pass, a remote backdoor to the Shenandoah Valley.

The most amazing thing about the place is its spirit, impossible to describe. It's a bask on a rock, a dip in the cool mountain water, a hike under the trees, or an amazing rocks-to-loaves feast where the food appears out of no where and it's incredible. It's blue grass on the porch and a breeze down the valley folds. It's the people who go there and the way your cares stay at bay while you're there.

I have described the experience at length before and will spare the long diatribe, but forgive one last gush: I love it there and I'm very grateful to be able to go.