Have you ever wondered what it’s like to run a marathon? Have you ever thought, “Hmmm… 26.2 miles is a long way and it takes FOREVER. What does one think about while they try not to focus on their legs?” If so, then this blog is for you. I am going to tell you a lot of my thoughts during those 5+ very long hours. But don’t worry, I won’t tell you all of them. Who has 5 hours to kill? (Me… I guess).
Pre-Start
Race Corral
Should I try
to pee again? I just tried but maybe I should try again? Oh god, what are the
port-potties gonna be like on the course? Is now when we need to take off our
sweats? Because I’m still cold and I don’t wanna. UGH ok fine I will. Should I
keep my tissues with me? Will they get soggy? They’re in a Ziploc but you never
know. I sweat a lot. So many questions. EW WHAT IS THAT SMELL!? Oh my god
port-o-potties. Wait… I can smell??? Oop! Now it’s gone. Thank god for this
sickness. Have people been smelling that the whole time? That must suck.
Start
Line
Oh wow! They
play Frank Sinatra before we start? That’s pretty cool. The people who work the
start line must be reallllly sick of this song if they play it every wave. This
would be the… 6th time they’re hearing it? How many apps do I need
to start on my phone? Strava – check. Nike Running – check. Spotify –
Check. How long will my phone last with
all of these apps on? I wonder if Strava works if my phone is on airplane mode.
I probably should have tested that. Too bad I downloaded it last night. I’ll do
anything for a free lululemon tank top. Tell me something I didn’t already
know. Ok. Time to run this sh*t. Or run-walk it. Or at least survive it. DAMNIT
I accidentally left my tissues in the pocket of my hoodie that I just donated.
I guess it’s snot-rockets from here on out.
START LINE! This is when I realized I had no tissues.
Not even a mile in and I was already taking pics.
Mile 1
Alright, this
isn’t too bad. The views are killer. Is it too soon to stop for a selfie? I’m
only doing this for Instagram likes anyway. Ok, that’s not entirely true. Damn,
I really wish I had my tissues. Should I still stop every 5 minutes to walk
like in my training? Everyone always says to take it easy through Brooklyn but
no one said anything about on the Verrazano. Then again, I don’t want to get
trampled. I guess I’ll stop to walk for 30 seconds and take a pic. Who knows
how long my phone will last.
Mile 2
*sees sign
“Yo! Welcome to Brooklyn!”* Oh cute!! Signs! I hope I see some witty ones.
Someone just welcomed me personally to Brooklyn by name. Such a good idea to
put my name on my shirt.
Mile 3
This isn’t too
bad! I wish this was a Turkey Trot. I’d almost be done. 23 miles to go. FML. Wait,
where did all those other people come from? Are they running the race, too? Let
me ask one of them. Ah yes, they are. They just started on the lower level of
the bridge. I wonder if that sucks. Not as many insta-opportunities. Well, look
at all of us together now. 53,000 people in one HUGE happy family.
Mile 4
Thank GOD
there are people out here with water bottles and TISSUES. Next year when I
cheer, I am def bringing a box of tissues. You never know if there will be
someone out there snot-rocketing their life away. Also, I’m glad I didn’t run
with a water bottle. It’s so nice to have my hands free! And there are people
all over the place handing them out.
Mile 5
First person I
know!! My coworker brought the whole family out to cheer for me! Gotta stop for
a selfie. OMG, her sign is made to look like my Braid in Manhattan business
card!! Am I too sweaty to give hugs? Meh whatever, they can shower. I
can’t shower. for 21 more miles. Woof.
Mile 6
I should be
looking for more people from the gym. YES! Spotted!! This is fun. It’s like a
super, super hard game of Where’s Waldo through the 5 boroughs.
Mile 7
Everyone wants
to high-five me but I don’t think they understand the germs on my hands. Ew.
Oh! That woman is giving high-fives with latex gloves on. Smart lady.
It’s 11:30!
Time for more Dayquil! “Um, ma’am? Excuse me? My hands are shaking and I really
need to open this Dayquil. Yes, I’m sick. No, I don’t feel great. Thanks!”
Alright, well
that took a full 90 seconds. Good thing I already knew I wouldn’t be making any
sort of time record. How many miles ‘til those meds kick in? 3? 4? 19? UGH.
Mile 8
The street
names are words now instead of numbers. I’ll never find any of my friends. My
dripping sweat is impeding my vision of street signs. OMG GYM FRIENDS! YAYYY
BROOKLYN! I have to stop for a photo or two. Another coworker! This is so fun!
More photos, please. Make sure everyone knows I am still alive. For now.
I actually turned around and walked back for this photo opp. #worthit
More of the YMCA Crew in Brooklyn
Mile 9
Full mile with
no one I know. Wahhh, this isn’t fun. Why am I doing this again? Also, every
time I stop for my scheduled walking breaks people scream my name to try and
make me run again. Maybe I shouldn’t have put my name on my shirt?
Mile 10
SISTER!!! I
hope I make it into her 1secondeveryday. I even made sure I was running! I can
give her a hug despite the sweat and snot. She’s related to me. Hopefully she
tells my mom I’m still alive. I wonder if I’ll spot her in Manhattan, too. I
think my Dayquil is setting in! I can ALMOST smell. Smell myself, that
is.
Mile 11
SO. MANY.
JEWS. I was warned about this deadening silence. Like, I see them. They see me.
But they’re pretending it’s just another normal day and 53,000 people aren’t
running down the street. Cool, cool. JK, not cool, this is annoying AF. I
almost wish I had headphones on. ALMOST.
Mile 12
No friends here either. Well at least there are a few spectators again. Why is everyone handing out candy? Oh yeah! It was just Halloween. I think I’ll stick with my Clif Bloks. I’m not trying to make any port-o breaks. Who knows how a Snickers will react in my stomach with all that Gatorade.
Mile 13
Remember when
I ran a half marathon and I was like EW NEVER AGAIN? Why the hell did I think,
“yea, let me do that TWICE IN A ROW.” I could be DONE now! And to make matters
worse, it’s another bridge! Wahhhh I hate uphills.
Mile 14
Another huge
bridge coming up. This is what I trained for. I’m EXHAUSTED. And the last two
people I was supposed to see, I couldn’t find. This isn’t fun anymore. Should I
just walk this whole bridge?
Mile 15
Oh, ok. So
EVERYONE walks this bridge. It makes sense, because I’m walking relatively
quickly and I’m almost passing some of the people “running.” Why waste my
energy? SELFIE BREAK! There are NYRR volunteers stationed in the middle of the
bridge specifically to take our pics. Ok, that’s probably not what they are specifically
there for, but it’s a good bonus. Sure, I’ll stop. Why not. I’m not going very
fast anyway.
The halfway mark! (and ANOTHER bridge, the Pulaski into Queens)
Middle of the Queensboro bridge on my way into Manhattan. See all the people taking pics behind me?
Mile 16
FRIENDS
FRIENDS EVERYWHERE!! I needed excuses to stop and chat. Just a little
coffee-clatching while very very sweaty. Should I change my shirt? My amazing
emoji bf brought me a change. If my hands weren’t working enough to open
Dayquil, I will probably struggle with the safety pins on my bib. Meh, I’ll
just stay sweaty. “Only” 10 miles left anyway. It’s so fun to see my friends
and their signs! Maybe I should just stay here. Ugh, ok FINE I guess I’ll go.
MY SISTER
AGAIN! YAY! She noticed I didn’t change my shirt, HA! And our friend brought
tissues. Thank god. Is it possible that Dayquil isn’t effective if you’re
pushing your body like this? Like how antibiotics make birth control not work?
Hmm, I should ask somebody that.
Mile 17
MORE FRIENDS!
Omg Jacy brought her baby! That is dedication. Gotta take another pic. First
baby on the course!
My sister disgusted by my nose-blowing and Sheridan’s festive hat
Jacy and my littlest spectator
Mile 18
Gotham Gators
out here with a personalized sign for me. Gotta chomp with them. At this point,
I do realize I’m just taking any opportunity I can to stop running. Where the
hell are the people with the water bottles like in Brooklyn?? I’M SO THIRSTY. I
wonder if people in Manhattan are too broke from paying rent to be handing out
free bottles of water. I really should have taken a water bottle with me. Come
to think of it… it’s been many many hours and I’ve been drinking water and
Gatorade at every mile… how don’t I have to pee at all? Is it all coming out of
my nose? Is that a thing? I should ask someone that question, too.
They had a sign with my name on it too, but I think I liked this one better.
Mile 19
PERSONAL
RECORD! I’ve never run more than 18 miles before. Yes, I feel like I want to
die but I did it! Even if I don’t finish, at least I am breaking my own
records. GOD I’m exhausted. Where is Sara? She said she’d be right on this
corner! I better stop to look for her. Also because I MUST STOP.
Wait, is that
her ponytail walking away? “SARA!” Omg! It’s her!! Come, walk with me. Forward
is forward. Let’s take a selfie. Ok. Gotta go to the Bronx, I’ll be back in
half an hour! I hope…
Mile 20
Willis Ave. Bridge. Well, good news is, I’m not the only one walking. Literally EVERYONE is. This is a secret piece of info no one ever told me. I did wonder how people run the whole thing. I guess the answer is, they don’t. Let me take a selfie and check on the battery percentage of my phone. 17% DAMN! I still have at LEAST an hour left! Oh damn, there’s a photographer. I guess he just got a pic of me on my phone and walking. It is what it is. #WorthIt for the selfie.
Mile 21
Good lord this
is not easy. There’s a whole slew of port-o-potties. I guess the good news is,
I still don’t have to pee at all. Bad news is… why? Should I be worried? My
left ankle hurts. That’s weird. It’s not even my “bad” ankle. It’s not too bad,
though. Oh, a biofreeze station, I’ll ask them to spray me. Hmm, that worked a
little bit! And there’s an NYRR volunteer with The Stick. I’ll roll my quads a
little. Plus, I need another break. God these stick thingies are miraculous.
I haven’t been to the Bronx since I filed something in court here. But now I guess I live here because I cannot move my legs anymore. HA! I cannot live in the Bronx. Jenny from the Block loved it so much and even she left. I must move. Forward is forward. I cannot stop coughing! I think these coughs are getting way worse. FINAL BRIDGE. A lady just screamed “This is the last f*cking bridge!” Hell yes, lady. Also, I enjoyed the sign that said, “F*ck it up, buttercup.” Obscenities are infiltrating my every thought at this point.
Mile 22
Holy hell this
is HARD. And my coughs are def getting worse. I don’t want to stop but I have
to double over from these coughing spells. I have some cramping in my abs, even,
from the coughing. Oh, thank god. There’s Sara again. PLEASE WALK/RUN WITH ME.
Yes, let’s go on Instagram-Live to distract me. No, I don’t think it matters
that you’re just joining the race course. I NEED HELP! I wonder if I’ll regret
talking about nipple chafing on Instagram? Meh, too late now. COUGH COUGH COUGH
OW. Well, good news is, everyone around me limping and walking super weird. I’m
running/walking totally fine. Except for when I’m doubled over struggling to
breath between coughs.
Mile 23
5K left! I can
do this. I’ve run a 5K a million times. Granted, I’ve never done it after
running 23 miles. Also, why is this uphill? Seems like a cruel joke. But the
crowds here are deafening. God, I love Manhattan.
Struggling to breathe through coughs at mile 22.
The struggle was so real, I was just trying to catch my breath.
BUT THE END WAS SO CLOSE!!
Mile 24
Time to go
back into Central Park. I can do this. I can do this. I know this park like the
back of my hand. Why do people say that? Do people look at the backs of their
hands a lot? I think I’m delirious. The sun is setting! I should take my
sunglasses off. What time is it? Damn. 5 hours. I’ve been running for 5 hours.
I thought I would be done by now. Oh well. I guess my new goal is beating the
sunset.
I just passed
a 40K sign. What the hell does that mean? How many K’s is a mile? Wait, 5K is
3.1 miles… 40/5 x 3.1… I cannot do mental math. I think I’m close to the next
mile marker? My phone is at 5%. I need to remember to stop my Strava at 1%. I
WILL NOT LET MY PHONE DIE.
Mile 25
25! More
coworkers! And another racecourse baby! The spectators keep saying “you’re
almost there, Emily!” and FINALLY they are telling the truth! They’ve been
saying that sh*t since mile 13. Which was incredibly annoying. But finally it’s
TRUE! Oh my god it’s so close. I can run, still! I need to run through the
finish.
This was just past the 40K mark (see it in the back?) I was definitely doing mental math here.
So excited to see another baby!
Group pic (and chance for a breathing break).
Mile 26
26 freaking
miles. The .2 is a cruel joke. Ok, that sign just said 800 meters to go. How
long is a meter? It would be really helpful to understand the metric system. I
know I’m close though. I bet I can run the whole rest of this. Phone at 2%. Omg
this is like the Hannukkah oil that lasted for 8 nights. Incredible. Will it
last ‘til the finish line???
Mile
26.1
Back in the
park! Look at all of these flags lining the street. SO COOL. I am so so so
close!
Mile
26.2
400 meters to
go. Welp, still don’t know what a meter is but I SEE THE FINISH LINE! I WILL
CROSS THIS THING WITH MY HANDS IN THE AIR!
FINISH LINE IN SIGHT!
FINISHING WITH MY HANDS IN THE AIR!
YASSSSS!!
FINISH
HOLY CRAP. I
did it. I DID IT! I thought I would cry but I don’t think I have enough fluids
in my body for that. Speaking of… how come I still don’t have to pee? And where
is there water?? I earned this medal! AHHH so cool! Phone at 1%. End Strava.
End Nike+ Run. End Fitbit.
“Hi! Excuse
me. First of all, congratulations. Second of all, will you take a photo of me
with my medal? Here’s how you switch the camera around. Oh. Sorry, my phone
just died.”
“Hi, sir? First of all, congratulations. Second of all, my phone just died. Can you maybe take a photo of me with my medal at the finish and then send it to me? Yes, I need you to take it on your own phone. Then send it to me. My phone died. Oh, you live in France and don’t have service? Ummmm, do you think you can Whatsapp it to me later when you have wifi?? I’d be soooo thankful. I’m never doing this thing ever again. Ever.”
If you made it all the way through this journey with me without even carb-loading first, you deserve a Gatorade. And a medal. But not my marathon medal because I’m never giving mine away. After reading this, do you think you want to run a marathon? No? Me either.
Last photo taken on my phone before it died.
Photo taken by my French friend and Whatsapped to me later.
Saturday night I went to see Hamilton. If you’ve been living
under a rock and you haven’t heard of it, it’s a musical on Broadway. According
to Wikipedia, “in
2016, Hamilton received a record-setting 16 Tony nominations, winning 11,
including Best Musical, and was also the recipient of the 2016 Grammy Award for
Best Musical Theater Album and the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for Drama.” So yeah, it’s
sort of a big deal. And since it’s such a big deal it’s semi-impossible to get
tickets. For example, on Ticketmaster right now, the cheapest seat is $448. Per
person.
To be honest, there are some serious Hamilton-heads out
there who know every single lyric and even go to themed-spin classes with the
songs. I am not one of them. Or I wasn’t. In fact, I didn’t even
know any of the music before this weekend. Except the one song performed on the Tony’s.
I always knew I wouldn’t have the money to go to see it on Broadway so I
figured, why bother trying to know the songs?
My best friend was in town over the weekend from Seattle
because her boyfriend bought tickets to Hamilton on presale OVER A YEAR AGO. He
flew from Seattle to see it! He had 4 tickets, and at the last minute, one of
the people going to the show canceled. I told him I would advertise the ticket
on my Facebook so he wouldn’t lose the money. My brother, the protagonist of
this whole story, LOVES Hamilton. He has seen it on tour, but never in NYC. He saw
my Facebook status and texted me asking why I wasn’t going. He said “do you
know the music? Is money the only thing holding you back?” He knows my student loan
situation. I was about to text him back when I heard phone “CHA-CHING!” and
I saw that he Venmo-ed me the money for the ticket!! I texted him back my
extreme gratitude and deleted my Facebook post advertising it to anyone else –
I WAS GOING!
HE’S THE BEST!!
I called my brother, so he could tell me his favorite songs,
and I got to listening! I had 24 hours to learn a VERY
LONG soundtrack. Literally, there are 46 songs. I listened to the songs all
day Saturday and by the evening, I had a better idea of what would go on. The
play was LONG. But it didn’t seem like it! The lyrics are fast, since most of
the songs are rapped, and my brother had warned me I would probably not
understand all of the lyrics. However, maybe it’s the decades of listening to
rap, but I understood a lot of it! The music is super catchy and I’ve been listening
to it ever since.
Mandatory pre-show marquee pic!
Playbill pic.
THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENS!
In our seats waiting for an amazing show!
Besties on Broadway.
The coolest part of the story, if this isn’t cool enough
already, is that my best friend’s boyfriend and his brother, went to school
with the musical director, Kurt
Crowley. They’re from Helena, Montana, and not too many people are from
there, so they kept in touch. Kurt stayed after the show and let us onto the
stage to talk with us about the show, and to take photos. There were actors
from the show all around us on stage signing Playbills, but since I didn’t know
the cast well, I didn’t ask for any signatures. We did get some awesome pics,
though! And it’s an amazing experience to be on a Broadway stage, looking out
at the theater; it’s not as big as you’d think! We took some more photos, and
then left. We hadn’t realized that more than 3 hours had passed! A testament to
a great show is that there can be nearly three hours of FAST speaking, and it
seems quick.
Full cast post-show, asking for donations for something (I wasn’t paying attention when they started asking for more money)
I feel the need to end this post with some serious cliché’s –
it was such an incredible experience to be IN THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENED IN THE
GREATEST CITY IN THE WORLD! I recommend it to anyone who has the money, or a
SUPER SWEET BROTHER with the funds. THANK YOU AGAIN, BABY BRO!
I know I keep on saying I’ve peaked, but now I really have. I had the best day of my life when I was in the Macy’s Parade (I’m literally never going to stop talking about that, so you should get used to it). And now, I have had the best night of my life, attending the Heat v. Knicks game in the FIRST ROW, center court. You may remember how my friend got me into The Parade, well another friend of mine got me in to see this game! I am really #winning at this “friends” thing.
Here’s how it happened: My best friend and college roommate
works in media. When you work in media, you tend to have reps for companies you
work with, and they have perks. Lots of perks. My friend didn’t even ask for
this these tickets! She just casually mentioned being a Miami Heat fan, and the
rep was like “let me see if I can get you tickets next time they are in town.”
He didn’t mention they were ROW ONE!!
See me photobombing?
We were basically on the court
Selfie Skills
It was a girls’ night with four of us, and we met up 30 minutes
before the game. These top-notch tickets also come with access to the Delta Sky
Club lounge, which means FOOD. FREE FOOD. There is a catered buffet with lamb,
mashed potatoes, shrimp cocktail, burgers, the whole nine. Then there are also
hot dogs, soft pretzels etc. AND there is a sushi bar with fresh sushi and all
of the condiments. After we finished our pre-game food, we stocked up on
food-to-go to bring to our seats. There were bags of cotton candy, bowls of
candy, boxes of popcorn and cracker jacks. We were loaded up. I should have
brought a bigger purse. We didn’t have time for 16 Handles. Shame. Booze wasn’t
included but I was already too full. Plus, one of my friends is pregnant, so
#Solidarity, or something.
Once we got to our seats with our many snacks, we realized
how AMAZING the seats were. Center court, right behind the announcers. This
came in handy for replays. We could see them on the announcer’s screens in
front of us! Let me mention the celebrities. SO MANY OF THEM! First of all, the
legend, Carmelo Anthony was in the house as well as Sophie Turner. But better
yet, we were sitting directly behind “comedian row,” courtside in front of us
were Hassan Minhaj, John Mulaney, and Leslie Jones! Also in front of us was CC
Sabathia of the New York Yankees.
We were so close, we were almost in the shot when they zoomed in on celebs
We were as shocked as John Mulaney and Hassan Minhaj to be there.
Who is this guy? Def famous but I couldn’t place him!
Dwyane Wade hugging Leslie Jones, and CC Sabathia Photobombing me.
I was so busy staring at the celebs in front of me, that as
I was mindlessly chatting with the random guy to my left about my love for
Dwyane Wade (natch), I got a text from my friend sitting on my right. “Do you
know who we think you’re sitting next to? Elton from Clueless.” Aka Jeremy
Sisto. It was true! I couldn’t place him, but it was definitely the famous “rollin’
with the homie” and I was was rollin’ with him! I tried to google him a few
times during the game, but he was literally sitting next to me, so I waited
until halftime. I finally got up the courage to ask him if he was in Law and
Order (I didn’t want to date myself with the Clueless reference) and he said
yes! He sort of rolled his eyes and he said “that’s me, Detective Lupo,” to
which the guy he was with replied, “You were in Law and Order? Detective
Loophole?” HA! Little did I know, the guy who thought he was Detective Loophole
was actually his costar on his current show, FBI! Who knew!?
The night would not have been the same if the Heat hadn’t
won. That is the whole point of the game, right? It was so awesome to be
courtside, it felt like we were IN the game! We were much more invested because
we felt like we were on the court. And the game was CLOSE! The Heat pulled
through in the 4th quarter and won 106-97. YASSS. It was amazing to
be there to witness Dwyane Wade’s last season, and to wear his jersey, the same
color they were wearing that night! When he left the court, he received a
standing ovation, as he should have.
The fun didn’t end there. My friend (the same one who got us
the tickets) is from Miami, and her sister knows a few of the guys on the team.
My friend, therefore, knows them, too! One of her Heat friends left us
post-game passes at will call, so we were able to go to a special section of
the stands after the game and mingle with the players. Wade is too cool for
that, but a couple of the other heavy hitters came out and chatted with friends
and family all around us! Whiteside, Richardson, Winslow, etc.
It was a dream come true. Everything from the free food, to
the girls’ night out, to the celeb spotting, to the Heat win… it was magical.
And now I can never go to a Heat Game again because it will never compare.
YASSS LESLIE!!!
Half-time crazy show.
Post-Game mingle.
And of course, a hair pic. Featuring Wade’s jersey.
I had the most “New York” experience yesterday. I had
plans to go to the gym after work and have dinner with a friend. Then in the
morning, my friend texted me to say she won lottery tickets to see The Lion
King on Broadway. For $30! Easy decision. I texted my friend from the gym and
told her I had to cancel because… duh. I apologized profusely and told her I’d
probably be pissed if I were her but… COME ON! No choice here.
A little background: My friend enters the lottery for
shows all the time. I’m talking, multiple times per week. And she has won a few
times, too! However, she usually wins on Mondays and Thursdays, which is when I
teach Spin classes and I can’t get a sub at the last minute. Also, she has
never won for The Lion King (supposedly it’s a tough one to win) and I have
been wanting to see it for DECADES. Literally it’s been on Broadway for more
than 20 years. I quickly replied “YES!!” to her text and Venmo-ed her $30.
I knew that security would probably check our bags, so I
left my gym bag at work and just brought my wallet, keys, phone and book for
the subway. It took me 27 minutes door to door from my office. So New York! I
also stopped at McDonalds on the way because the show started at 7 and I knew I’d
be starving by the end. I got 2 chicken selects for $2 and ate them while I
waited in the box office line. Very classy with my McDonalds on the Broadway
line. Luckily, I was not alone. The people behind me were also lottery winners
and they were scarfing down a street meat hot dog and slice of pizza. I also
smuggled pretzels and tootsie rolls in my coat pocket in a non-noisy Ziploc bag.
My friend was running late and I was worried they wouldn’t
let me pick up the tickets because they were very explicit in the email
confirmation about needing photo ID. My friend who has done this a lot told me
to try because sometimes they don’t care. They didn’t care! I just showed them
the email on my phone and they handed over the tickets.
Yayy!! I arrived early.
Waiting in line and eating Chicken Selects.
They gave me the tickets. REJOICE!
We got to our seats 1 minute before the show started, and
unfortunately the tickets were for the VERY last row. Literally no one was
behind us. My experienced friend said that every other lottery she’d won were
Orchestra seats, not Mezzanine and she apologized. However, the seats were
smack-dab in the middle. Also, it became apparent we actually were lucky to be
up above. First of all, The Lion King has two pits of drums in the upper
levels, within the front pillars on either side of the stage. It was very cool
to be able to see straight into the pits, and watch them do the percussion,
which has been described as “the heartbeat of the show.” Also, there were a lot
of musical numbers with choreography and formations that were awesome to see
from above, sort of like how the Rockettes are better to watch from the sky
(Thanks Macy’s Parade for teaching me this). Also, at the beginning of both
acts, there were birds and actors that came out from all of the doors, even in
the mezzanine!
The show was amazing, everything I expected and more. I
loved how the actors were one with their costumes. Like how the zebras not only
made the zebra props move like animals, but they also moved their own legs like
zebras. Or what I expect zebras would move like. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen
one IRL. And those giraffes… on two sets of stilts?? Color me impressed. Young Simba didn’t
have the best voice in the world, but he is probably 10 years old, so that in
and of itself is impressive. And Rafiki? WOAH. I went to look her up after the
show because I was curious about the accuracy of the language in the show, and
sure enough, it’s very accurate. Tshidi
Manye, who has been playing Rafiki for more than 20 YEARS is from South
Africa and is featured on the original movie soundtrack. Also, throughout the
show, she speaks five of the 11 official language of South Africa (English,
Zulu, Sotho and Xhosa). Wtf. That is awesome.
It was such a fun experience, even from the back row.
Sometimes I complain about the hot subways,
or terrible service on the subways, or hot weather,
or bed
bugs, or sirens,
but sometimes, New York is AMAZING. Who else except New Yorkers gets to decide
that instead of Spin class, they are going to attend The Lion King on Broadway
for $30? No one. It was a good New York day.
Curtain Time! Obligatory Playbill pic.
End of show 🙂 Not TOO far away even from the back row!
I’ve peaked. There’s nowhere to go but down. I have achieved my life goal at age 31 and it’s only downhill from here. Why get engaged? Why get married? Why have kids? I already have enough Facebook likes for the entirety of my life. I was in the Macy’s Parade.
There is only one reason to set the alarm for 4:30 am on a day where you don’t have work, and that’s the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. I should revise that last sentence. I didn’t have to work at my typical 9-5, but I did have a very important job to do: Clowning Around! As you may have read two weeks ago in my equally-as-thrilled blog post, I was a Viking Clown in the parade. If you are still wondering how I got the gig, check out my last blog post.
I know that what you really want to know are my stream of consciousness thoughts during the best day of my life, so you’re in luck. Here we go:
4:30 am:My alarm went off. I proceeded to be very confused because it was 100% dark out and my emoji-bf was still fast asleep. He is ALWAYS up before me. But like a normal hum
an, he was sleeping in on his day off. I am not a normal human. When I finally realized why my alarm had gone off, I rocketed out of bed to get ready. IT WAS PARADE DAY!!!
4:32 am: I brushed my teeth while scrolling through my phone furiously. I successfully went to bed at 11:30 pm the night before the parade (a full 5 hours of sleep!). While I slept, my phone started to blow up with good luck wishes by text, Instagram DM and Facebook comments. Obviously, I had posted about the parade before I went to sleep, and everyone wanted a piece of the action. Duh.
4:34 am:I attempted to write people back via text message, and then remembered it was still before 5 am and thought better of it.
4:36 am: I contemplated making eggs for breakfast, but instead ate half of a chicken cutlet from the fridge (no time for microwaving!), and I definitely did NOT drink any coffee or water. Remember this for later.
4:40 am: I began layering. I wore 5 layers. A sports bra (a lot of walking was to be done!), a long sleeved thermal shirt, another long-sleeved shirt, a down running vest, and another down vest. And that was just on top. I also wore multiple layers on my legs. And my feet. Then I started to pack my stuff in my pockets. ID necessary to get into the costuming hotel, a granola bar in case my half of a cold chicken cutlet wouldn’t cut it (spoiler alert: granola bar was needed), 4 sets of hand warmers, and of course a portable cell phone charger and cord. So many photos to take!
5:05 am: (yes, it took me 25 minutes to put on clothes) I tried to go to the bathroom for the 5th time. I lamented forgetting to buy Depends because even with no coffee or water, I knew I would probably have to pee.
5:10 am: I walked to the subway. It was much colder than I thought it would be. Just kidding, it was just as cold as I knew it would be. 16 degrees. Woah.
5:45 am: I arrived at the New Yorker Hotel, where I saw a HUGE line of people wrapped around the entrance. I got in line, thinking I would definitely freeze before I even got my makeup on. I tried to chat with the people around me. The guy behind me in line was the Elf on a Shelf. I tried to find him later on TV but all I saw was the balloon. You think he *WAS* the balloon???
5:50 am:A guy came to try and warm up the crowd. A fluffer, of sorts. He asked us if we were excited. Then he told us all to take our lassos out and wave them around our heads to show our excitement. Then he said, “Knock Knock” Us: “Who’s there?” Him: “Yah” Us: “Yah-hoo!” He got all of us. With our lassos in the air. It did make us laugh and warm us up a bit.
5:52 am: A guy asked for anyone with a 5:45 call time and took us to the front of the line and into the hotel! Yay! Warmth! We scanned our tickets and I followed signs to the clown staging area. There were balloon handlers, banner holders, etc, and they each had different areas.
5:55 am – 6:25 am: I put on my costume. Yes, this took 30 minutes. AGAIN. Each type of clown had a helper to explain which costume pieces went where. This was not as self-explanatory as you may have thought. There were an additional 3 layers that were somehow supposed to go over the 5 layers I was already wearing. There were leggings to go over my 3 pairs of pants, and then fur-leg-warmers that had to go on top of those. I took my shoes off and put them back on 3 times because I kept forgetting parts. If you think it’s difficult getting up off the floor, try doing it in 7 layers of clothes. It’s no small feat. After I finally was completely dressed with my wig cap on, and with promises that my makeup artist would be able to help me fit my ear warmers under my wig so they wouldn’t show (and so I wouldn’t freeze), I went on to the makeup line.
My costume! Check out that golden corset contraption. It came in handy to hold things.
So many clowns getting ready!
I was pretty glad I didn’t have to wear a block.
Fairies getting fairied.
Completed fairy!
More costume racks. This is a huge production.
NYC Tourist Clowns in line for makeup!
Keg clown?
6:30 am:MAKEUP! This was incredible. There were rows and rows of makeup artists, with number paddles like in line at Trader Joes. My makeup artist told me she had been doing makeup for the Parade for 22 years! She said, “I live for this day.” And I was like “ME TOO GURL.” We were a match made in heaven. She told me that each clown used to have different makeup, which was more fun and creative for her, but now it was streamlined and all of the clowns had the same makeup. Then she asked if I wanted to do my own eye makeup after she asked if I had contact lenses (I do). I told her “NAH, I want the professional to do my makeup even if it means sacrificing my eyes forever.” She was hesitant but she did it. All was good, though. And she let me take a few selfies as we went along. Sure enough, she helped fit my ear muffs under my wig-hat, and then I was off to the buses!
In line for makeup, wig cap and all.
Makeup room! Check out the rows of artists.
My personal makeup artist, who was totally down for selfies.
OHHH we’re halfway thereeee.
Completed product! Let’s have a parade.
6:45 am:We boarded the buses waiting outside for us and started uptown. I was surprised the streets weren’t closed, we were just traveling with normal traffic uptown. Thankfully there is very little traffic at 6:50 am on Thanksgiving morning, and we made it up to 80th street by 7 am. While I was on the bus, my sister texted me that she was bundled up and on her way to watch the parade with my brother! Thankfully, they were running a little late (7 am is LATE to get a good spot) so the timing was perfect for me to meet them at my bus stop! We took 3 minutes to chat and take photos, and then they went on their way to find a spot. Thankfully, again, since it was 16 degrees (maybe not “thankfully”), there were less people out early to watch, so my siblings got a GREAT spot!
Exodus of clown to the buses.
Sibling Selfie at the bus!
Who is the cutest one? Who is wearing the most layers?
6:55 am: I made my way to “Clown Corner #1” which is where I was supposed to meet my other clown comrades. Along the way, I took photos of some balloon handlers getting in formation and having team meetings. Also, SO MANY PEOPLE wanted a photo of me – balloon handlers, police officers, even other clowns! The Viking costume was definitely the most involved of the costumes. I mean, I had a massive golden boob corset, yarn braids and a shield. Come on.
This guy wanted a photo of me, so I made him take one with me!
I found the breakfast clowns on the corner.
Selfies with Stars.
My only other clown comrade with braids!
Ronald McDonald Balloon Handlers getting ready!
Viking Group!
Do we look scary?
Clown Corner Photoshoot!
7-9 am:We waited. And tried to stay warm. Things I did to try and stay warm:
Run in place. Thankfully I was wearing sneakers. And 3 pairs of socks.
Use hand warmers. I had 2 in each of my gloves. I also put some in my golden corset. In hindsight, I wished I had put some in my shoes.
Stalked Al Roker. Really though. Every year, I scream to him about how much I love him. He usually returns these advances with a smile and a wave. This year I was very close to him when I declared my love for him. And I was in a Viking outfit. He did not return this advance with a smile and a wave. I think I scared poor Al. Why doesn’t he remember me!?
Went to the port-o-potty. It makes a person warm to try and take off and put back on 7 layers of clothes in a small space. This was probably the grossest part of the morning. I kept my shield and other accessories outside.
Took a lot of photos. A lot. And boomerangs.
9:00 am: THE PARADE BEGAN! I was in the 8th clown group, which was pretty close to the beginning. I was very excited about that at this point because I was starting to lose feeling in my toes. I did get a foot cramp while I waited, probably a result of my willful dehydration as preparation for no bathrooms. Luckily my foot uncramped just in time for me to scream and take a selfie with John Legend as his float traveled past us, and then it was go-time!
Stalking my BFF, Al.
Taking more photos, trying to stay warm.
PARADE BEGINS!! Check out those fireworks.
JOHN LEGEND!
Me and John Legend. Sorry Chrissy Teigen, but I think this face is cuter than yours. (Or scarier?)
9:20 am:“Viking Clowns, you can JOIN THE PARADE!” It was finally time. I clowned around like the best version of myself for more than an hour. I saw my brother and sister uptown around 75th street, and they took (terrible) photos of me, and I got to wave and scream Happy Thanksgiving to millions of people along the parade route. We were strategically positioned after the How to Train Your Dragon Toothless Dragon balloon, and the James Madison University marching band. This was amazing placement because the poor band played the entire parade! It gave us something to dance and sing along to as we spread Thanksgiving cheer to the crowds.
It was definitely cold, but as I ran and skipped and marched down the parade route, high-fiving everyone along the way, I started to get warm. VERY warm. Keep in mind, I was running miles while wearing 7 layers and a Viking hat/wig. At around mile 2, I gave my hand warmers to some very appreciative spectators. Then, I wiped the sweat off of my brow from under my Viking hat, being incredibly careful not to smudge my makeup. Spoiler alert: I definitely smudged my makeup.
There were a lot of Ohio State fans along the route because their band was in the parade as well, and as a diehard Florida Gator fan, I was not a huge fan of all of the red and white. I did see about 6 people along the route with Gator gear on, and I was sure to scream “GO GATORS” to them. It may be the first time they heard that from a Viking!
A longtime family friend was watching the parade and had let me know where she was standing, so I looked for her and she screamed to me and we found each other! We even took a selfie. I also saw my best friend’s extended family, and her cousin took the funniest video of me ever. You can see me just doin’ my clown thang in the background for seconds until the incessant screaming of my name made another Viking Clown motion for me to come over. It’s such a funny video because it does show me in my element.
Photos of me marching!
Me trying to grab confetti with a gloved hand. It took practice.
Still working on the confetti.
OMG MY SIBLINGS!!!
Selfie along the route followed by more running to catch up.
10:20 am: We reached 38th Street and came to a stop. Little known fact: There were no kids in the parade this year. I know you are all thinking I am lying because you saw them on TV, but the reality is, it was too cold. They didn’t allow the kids to be on the floats, and they loaded them on at 35th street for a 1-block ride through Herald Square! It was definitely a good decision but created a bit of a logistical nightmare for families in the parade whose parents went uptown while they left their kids down at 35th street.
Anyway, we waited while Macy’s staff collected our confetti plastic bags (no plastic on TV!) and we took our final handfuls of confetti to throw in fistfuls in our hands. (I also stuffed a handful into my golden corset. I made sure not to reach in there on TV LOL.)
Then, we waited just out of Herald Square while we listened to John Legend “sing” and it was finally our turn!! I made the career-ending mistake of interacting with the actual people in the stands, instead of going to the south side of the street to be on camera. Therefore, no matter what all of you amazing fa+ns may have thought, you did not actually see me on TV. Thankfully, my makeup artist did my makeup the exact same as every other makeup artist, so I looked eerily similar to the 2 seconds of Viking Clowns they actually showed. But no, it was not me. Sigh.
10:40 am: All of us Viking clown high-fived each other for a clown-job-well-done, and walked back to the New Yorker hotel to give back our costumes. We took an awesome photo in a deserted, closed-off street on the way, and posed with a few more spectators. Then most clowns went to the makeup-removal-room. BUT NOT THIS CLOWN. I wore that fantastic makeup all the way back home. And let me tell you, NOTHING phases a New Yorker. I didn’t get a single strange look.
WILL THERE BE A NEXT YEAR!? Will Al Roker recognize me, and my lifelong dream will happen TWICE IN ONE DAY?? Stay tuned, I’ll keep you posted.
You may remember my obsession with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. If you were following my blog, you definitely do. I wrote about it three times last year, which is 3 times more than any normal New Yorker. I set aside my “I’m too cool for all touristy things” self for Thanksgiving, and I muster all of the #IBelieve I have in me every year for the main event. I have experienced the parade in almost every way: I have watched in Herald Square, I have watched as a baby, I have watched on TV from Florida, I have watched as a full adult screaming on the side of the street, and, I have watched in the uptown grand stand when I miraculously scored those tickets three years ago.
But this year, I am going to be IN THE PARADE. AS A VIKING CLOWN! That’s right, I HAVE PEAKED. When I found out I made it into the parade, I told my boss I was done working for the day, and I knew nothing better would happen to me all year so I should probably just leave. Luckily, he likes me, so he took it in stride. Also, I think he thought I was kidding. I was not. I posted on Facebook two days in a row and I got the most amount of likes on a status since I graduated law school (RIP).
Anyway, let’s roll it back… how did I get to be in the parade? Have you ever wondered where all of those clowns come from? They come from the stores and from the headquarters! They are employees! I tried for years to be in the parade, but it’s tricky because you need to work for Macy’s or Bloomingdales, and I don’t. Despite having 4 careers in my short 31 years on this earth, I have never been lucky enough to score a job that gets me a gig in the parade. Thankfully though, I have friends who are generous, AND who are Bloomies employees! Specifically, I have a friend, Dani, who was in the parade 2 years ago, and who I have been bugging for 2 full years to get me into the parade. She is a great friend. Not only because it actually WORKED but also because she is still my friend even after all of this bugging.
She entered me in the lottery over the summer, and since she was already in the parade, I think she got precedence and her sponsorship went through! (There will be a lot of exclamation marks in this post, #SorryNotSorry, I’m V excited.) Supposedly, being a balloon handler (the ones who hold those massive balloons) is a very coveted, high-ranking job. I did not get that one. My sister did it two years ago, though! Read my other blogs about it. Anyway, I scored the gig of being a clown! This is extra fun because there is no manual labor involved. Basically, I just have to smile, throw confetti, and walk 3 miles from the Natural History Museum down to Herald Square spreading Thanksgiving/Christmas cheer. And the craziest part is, it is a completely random assignment, and I happened to be assigned to the one clown that has BRAIDS! You guys must remember my new obsession with braiding. Braid in Manhattan, in a parade in Manhattan in BRAIDS! It is kismet.
Check out that get-up!
In case one wants extra training to be a clown, they have a college just for that: Clown U. Not that I necessarily felt I needed clown education, but I absolutely wanted to partake in everything Macy’s had to offer me. So, despite my slammin’ hangover from the Halloween Pub Crawl the day before, I walked the 7 blocks to the Big Apple Circus, and I got my clown on. There were balloons and Macy’s stuff everywhere. Also, I got a Macy’s Parade beanie! There’s nothing I love more than free swag. Especially when it’s parade-related.
Balloons!
Class of 2018, that’s me!
FREE MACY’S SWAG!
At Clown U, we were introduced to all of the clown groups, I got to meet my clown captain (yes, that’s a thing), and I got to meet 5 of my other co-clowns (clown-colleagues? Clowneagues?). I saw what my costume will look like in living-color, and I was excited to find that there’s a full-on studded bra involved. Also, we received training from some top-notch clowns. One of them was hoisted into the air as she taught us about the different “levels” of screaming “Happy Thanksgiving!” There’s level 1, for the people along the street who maybe are afraid of clowns, and also still half asleep. Then there’s level 2, for the people 4 or 5 rows back in the crowd, and then there’s level 3, a scream of joy that reaches all the way up 30 stories to the rich folks watching from their apartments along Central Park West. Those weren’t exactly her instructions, but you get the picture. Anyway, we laughed, yelled, and clowned around for a few hours. Then, it was over. I got some much-needed hangover food, and I started the countdown to Thanksgiving!
Look at all of the clown types being introduced!
Learning how to say greet parade-goers at many levels
A real-live clown!
My clown captain and me, with my Clown U Completion Certificate!
CLOWN-MANIA!
I can’t believe it is THIS WEEK that my dream will come true! Watch for me as a Viking Clown, I will be somewhere in the parade, although I won’t know my exact place until the morning of! My call time is at 5:45 am. Thankfully I have 5 layers of viking gear because it’s supposed to be 23 degrees (feels like 14!) See you on the street, or on TV!! Obviously, I will write another post about my time before, during and after the parade, in step by step fashion, but until then, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!! (That was a level 3.)
When you think of the New York nightmare, many things may come to mind: Losing your monthly MetroCard the day after you buy it, being late to an interview and the next train is in 16 minutes, going into the hottest subway car without AC in mid-August, moving to a great apartment in Williamsburg and finding out the next day that the L is going to stop running there for 7 months to a year… and those are all just nightmares related to the subway! But everyone can agree that the absolute worst fear of every New York Resident is one, four-millimeter insect: the bed bug.
First, a history. A few weeks ago, my sweet emoji boyfriend got a bug bite on his wrist. He decided it was different than any other bug bite because it itched so much. So in the middle of a work day, he texted me “I think we have bed bugs.” I have a visceral fear of any bug, not to mention the ones that may live inside my bed, so of course, I FREAKED OUT. I told him he should never mention the B-word again, especially when I was at work and there was nothing I could do about. I also told him that he only had one bug bite on his arm and he needed to “take a chill pill” and realize it was probably a mosquito bite. (I’m a very sweet and kind girlfriend, clearly.) Emoji-bf checked the bed, and he found nothing.
Fast-forward five days, he woke up and he had three bug bites, one of which was on the top of his leg, where his boxers cover. He INSISTED now that we had bed bugs. I was definitely more swayed, since bed bugs tend to bite in a line*, and now he had more than one. (*Sidenote: I know more about bed bugs now, like their biting pattern, than I EVER wanted to know.) At this point, I was sufficiently scared, and I texted the super to get the exterminator in the house. The exterminator came, took apart the bed, turned the couch upside-down, and found nothing.
My bf was pissed and itchy, though. So, we switched the sheets to be safe. We threw out our rug in the bedroom after shaking it out into the bathtub and finding nothing. We took our down comforter to the dry cleaners. We got bed bug glue traps. We got supersonic plug-in bug killers. We got a massive bug trapper with black light. But still… nothing. And I mean NOTHING. I made him check the traps every day because I was terrified of seeing one, and there was not a single one.
Fast-forward 2 days, let me set the scene. Sunday morning, 6 am. I woke up because every light was on our room. I heard my bf packing a bag, throwing things in from his closet.
Me, sleepily: “Are you running away from home?”
Him, strangely: “No, I just figured I would go shower at Equinox, and go to my office.”
Me, confused: “You do know it’s Sunday?”
Him, still strangely: “Yes, um, I’ll be back later.”
Me, very tired: “Ok, well if you’re going to keep the lights on, can you get me an eye mask? I don’t have to be up for 2 more hours.”
Him, hesitantly holding the eye mask and not giving it to me: “Well… I’m not sure if I should tell you this or not but… I found one. I found a bed bug.”
Me, jumping out of bed: “Are you sure? Where? Are you really sure? What did it look like? How many? Are you SURE?”
Him: “Yes, I’m sure. It was ON me. And I got a video. Incontrovertible evidence.”
Me: “That’s a big word for a Sunday morning at 6 am. But let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Well guys, it was Sunday, so unfortunately that meant the exterminators don’t work. Fun fact. But I felt like I had been evicted from my home. I packed a bag for the day, and went with Emoji-bf to his office to wait until I had to teach my Spin class. Then I carefully taught my class and did not put my belongings near anyone or touch anything besides my own bike. I felt like I had an STD. I finished class and began texting and telling anyone I had come in contact with in the previous two weeks, or anyone who had contact with my house. My bf group-texted my super and me with the video of the bug, which I refused to watch. I mentally prepared myself for weeks and months of sleep filled with bug nightmares. I evacuated my house and walked around Central Park for hours. I walked 30,769 steps that day. That’s 14 miles. But who’s counting?
Beautiful view, terrible circumstances.
Thankfully, our super lives in the apartment below us, and he was equally as terrified as we were. He insisted that the exterminator checked on Friday and found nothing. And we insisted that we believed him, but also directed him to watch the video of incontrovertible evidence. Our super directed us to put every piece of fabric: bedding, curtains, towels, pillows, sheets, clothing, into plastic bags and to seal them. He gave us 40 bags, and we used them all.
Every fabric in our house… in bags.
Me: sitting on the kitchen (the only safe space) while waiting for the exterminator.
At first, I think my bf took the video just to prove the existence of the bug to me, but it came in handy. The super made an appointment for an exterminator for the next day, at which time I showed the video yet again (without ever watching it, still terrified), and he confirmed that it was, in fact, a bed bug. ONE. SINGULAR. BUG. Again, he insisted that he had been there on Friday and had not seen anything, but “better safe than sorry.” I cannot tell you how many times I have uttered that phrase in the past two weeks. “Do we need to worry about our shoes?” “Better safe than sorry!” “Should we throw out our hangers?” “Better safe than sorry!” “Do we need to spray our electronics?” “Can’t do that, but you should vacuum any small openings just in case.” “Better safe than sorry!”
The exterminator answered my questions for approximately 45 minutes, and then proceeded to put on a massive HAZMAT-type suit to begin the spraying process. I wish I took a photo of him, but it seemed weird. He kept trying to tell me stories of “worse situations” he had seen, and I kept cutting him off. Example:
Exterminator: “This one time, I was at a house with a massive infestation (worst word ever when hearing BB stories) and when I took the mattress off…”
Me: “PLEASE STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I BELIEVE YOU BUT I DON’T WANT TO KNOW.”
Anyway, he sprayed the house and instructed us not to come back for at least 4 hours. “6 hours if you can, better safe than sorry!”
I didn’t come back for 10 hours. That night, our super kept the laundry room open for us overnight so we could run every fabric in our house through the dryer. He let us do it at night because we could use all of the machines, and also because he didn’t want anyone else in the building to know about the bug and cause mass hysteria.
*Fun Bed Bug Fact!* They don’t die in water, but they die in heat. You must high-heat or steam everything to kill them. We did so much drying and plastic bag carrying. We learned the perfect way to open plastic bags directly into dryers to make sure that no bed bugs fall on the floor. Then we re-bagged everything into NEW plastic bags, because the exterminator was coming BACK! A second, bonus round of spraying was included in our “treatment” for a week later. We were told to separate one bag each of clothes we would need for the next two weeks, and to keep the other things sealed in bags until the ordeal was over so we didn’t have to re-dry everything a second time. We finally finished at 1 am, and thankfully, my bf had gotten us a hotel room on the next block because I couldn’t stand one more day without sleep. Then again, who knows if hotel beds in NYC are any better, bed-bug-wise…
SO. MUCH. LAUNDRY. (and note the Amazon Now bags full of detergent.
2 weeks later, I can say with absolute certainty that I have NEVER done so much laundry in my LIFE. In fact, as I sit here in my living room on my laptop that came out of a sealed trash bag, looking at the remaining 4 plastic bags of things that I haven’t put away yet because I am waiting for our new hangers to come from Amazon, I can tell you that I have never experienced anything so terrible. I am sitting on my couch in a tank top, fearing for my arms and fearing that there may be any bugs left. Every night, I go to sleep fearing that maybe there was one more. Maybe it was hiding. We bought special bed bug protectors that we zipped our mattress and box spring in and we zip-tied them shut. I have changed our sheets 5 times in the past 2.5 weeks. I am still working on putting clothes back in my dresser from bags, boxes, and laundry bags.
Did I mention the best part??? THE EXTERMINATOR DIDN’T FIND ANY OTHER BUGS. NONE. THERE WAS JUST ONE. He told me when he first came to the house that it was “very common” for there to be one or two and no more, but, “better safe than sorry!” He said you can pick one up on clothes from buses, trains, subways, taxis, Ubers, movie theaters, or from other people rubbing against you. He said it could come from anyone, you, your spouse, your friends, your cleaning lady. He said it could come from bags put on the floor, bags put near other bags, from luggage, from airports or from hotels. Basically, NO ONE IS SAFE AND NOWHERE IS SAFE. And if that doesn’t make you fear for your life and the safety of your home, I don’t know what will. If you guys wake up with nightmares of bed bugs tomorrow, let me know. And take some solace in the fact that I probably woke up from them as well.
I am 3 weeks post-ankle-sprain, and I am hoping to run my FINAL race of the 9+1 this Saturday. It has been a very long road to recovery, and I have not passed the proverbial finish line yet. Recovering from an injury in New York City has its own set of unique obstacles, just like being Sick in the City. Specifically, it’s an issue because we are required to be on our feet walking everywhere we go. Accordingly, it is more difficult to recover, and more difficult to live a normal life. I compiled a short list of my gimp-difficulties below.
STAIRS. Y’all, I never realized how many stairs I do in a day. Ok, I guess I did realize because my fitbit tells me, but it’s a LOT!! This particular injury made it relatively feasible to go UP stairs, but nearly impossible to go DOWN. I dare you to attempt taking the stairs down to the subway by slowly walking down each stair with both feet, and holding onto the railing, in rush hour. I have heard some nasty comments in my 8 years in New York, but nothing like when you get in the way of a person trying to run for the subway. Particularly when you appear to be a young, healthy person.
STANDING. There is a lot of standing. Especially when waiting for the subway. As you probably know from either the news, or personal experience, or my multiple blogs complaining about the MTA, the trains in New York are in unusually terrible shape, and it is common to wait 10-12 minutes for a train, especially at night. When standing is difficult, and the subway walls are covered in all sorts of bodily fluids, it becomes necessary to balance on one leg for long periods of time. Great balance work, but also V annoying.
SUBWAY BALANCING. This is an offshoot of the previous bullet point, but it is not common for a person to give up their seat for a seemingly healthy young person. Therefore, you must stand, or in my case, balance on one leg. I have found a few tricks for this, like for example, facing the direction the train is going, instead of sideways. My forward-backward balance is better on one leg. Also, I’m always ready to lose my balance a few times. I’m ready to receive more ugly looks and comments directed at my gimp self. #ShitHappens #ShittyPeopleHappen #NewYorkProblems
HEAT! This week has cooled down a bit, but last week’s triple-digit temperatures did NOT help my healing. The hotter it was, the more my ankle swelled and became more uncomfortable. No amount of icing helps when you leave your apartment and enter the almighty depths of Hades, right outside your front door.
RUNNING. I know what you’re thinking: “Why are you running if your ankle is busted?” I’m not talking about running for exercise, I’m talking about running out of necessity. Again, I didn’t realize how often I did this until I was unable to. There’s the quick “oh shit, I’m in the crosswalk and a cab is going to run me over if I don’t shuffle faster” run, or there’s the “I’m going to miss the bus that is one block away and then I’ll have to wait 20 more minutes” run. There is a lot of mandatory running.
Basically, it’s super hard to live in a city that never sleeps and never stops running when you’re unable to run. Here’s hoping I don’t fall in another pothole in the near future. Meanwhile, I hope you had stock in CVS because I have purchased at least 4 ankle braces from there. Am I missing anything on this list?
That’s right, I’m a gimp. Again. Some of you may remember my unfortunate ankle sprains right around the time I began this blog. It coincided (extremely unfortunately) with my very first half marathon. It was approximately 18 months ago. I had been completely free and clear of sprains until now! WAHHH.
You probably assume I was doing some sort of crazy exercise when I sprained it, like jumping on Spiderbands that were suspended from the ceiling or something. But no, I was walking. On my own two feet. And before you ask me the most offensive question, like emoji-bf did when I first told him, NO, I was not on my phone when it happened. My phone was actually in my pocket! This was doubly lucky because I get to tell everyone that “no, I am not careless, I am just clumsy,” and it’s also lucky because I fell completely on the ground and my phone probably would have shattered if I had dropped it.
I was casually walking on my way from work to the subway to go teach two classes at the gym. I looked left and right to cross the street (112th street on the west side), and unfortunately, I was too busy looking for crazy New York drivers to look down at the crazy New York streets. There was a huge pot hole in the crosswalk. I learned a very important lesson: potholes are not just dangerous for cars.
I fell to the ground and 3 people stopped for me, including a dad holding his two little sons’ hands. As I was falling, watching my fitness goals and dreams blow up before me in slow-motion, of course I screamed “SHIT!!!” I looked up to try and hobble out of the street before I was run over by a car, and I spotted the dad and his kids and I apologized for my curse words. The dad kept asking if I was ok and said his kids had heard worse. I’m sure that’s true; it’s New York, they probably heard worse just that morning. I was in a LOT of pain. I felt tears stinging at my eyes but I knew I couldn’t cry in front of these kids. One of them had a cast on his wrist already, so I just hoped my ankle wasn’t broken like him and tried to hop to the sidewalk.
After many rounds of “I swear I’m fine” as I blinked back tears and hopped down the street, I walked into a Famiglia Pizzeria and asked for a bag of ice. I was on my way to the gym, which meant I knew I had a good hour to ice my ankle on the subway. As luck would have it, the only other person in the pizzeria was an NYPD officer. He saw me standing flamingo-style on one leg and he looked down at my ankle. His eyebrows flew up to his hairline as he saw the swollen ankle and he asked if he should call me an ambulance. I adamantly said no (although it would have probably gotten me to the gym faster than the MTA), and then he asked if he could “take a look at my ankle.” I told him no thanks, because the last thing I wanted was a stranger touching it. I could barely touch it myself. He asked me where I was headed, and when I told him “the gym,” he looked at me like I was crazy and decided I was beyond help.
I double wrapped a plastic bag full of ice, hopped down the two flights of stairs to the subway, and iced my ankle all the way to Brooklyn. The hard part, of course, was that I was supposed to then teach two fitness classes. My first class was Spinning, where I sat on the saddle of the bike, and propped my ankle on the handlebars on top of a bag of ice. I barked orders at my class for a full hour on the microphone, while trying to numb my pain. It was the first spin class I ever sat through without breaking a sweat. One of my regulars told me it was one of the hardest classes I ever taught. I guess I’m mean when I’m in excruciating pain.
The next class was supposed to be kickboxing. LOL. Considering I couldn’t even stand, I was definitely not jumping or kicking anything. I set up interval stations around the room and told them what exercises to do, for 1 minute on, 30 seconds off. I finished the classes with 5 minutes of core work on our backs (I could do this!) and then I had to ask for help to get me off the floor. Pretty comical.
Having a sprained ankle in New York comes with a unique set of problems, since I am constantly required to be walking and standing to get around in the city. I am in the middle of compiling a list of Sprankle Problems. Stay tuned. For now, here are a few awesomely gnarly photos of my cankle. Enjoy.
