Hers: Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder?

Oops.  It’s been quite a few days, and this blog has fallen by the wayside.  Of course, it hasn’t been forgotten.  Greg likes to remind me every day that we need to write.  He also likes to remind me that we need to clean the bathroom and buy a house, among other things.  In the spirit of productivity, we’ll cross one thing off that list at a time.  Right now, let’s get this blog up to speed.

The thing about blogging is, more often than not, you’re just talking about your life.  And sometimes, life is boring.  Or aggravating.  Or a little bit depressing.  No one wants to read about those things.  At least, I don’t think you do.  If you’re interested in hearing about this week’s violations at the “lady-bits doctor” or how I locked my keys in my car, then by all means, call me.  We’ll talk.  Otherwise, I’ll favor a little absence over transparency any day.  I think most would agree.

The other thing about blogging about your life is, sometimes, life just gets in the way.  Take Greg, for example.  He’s been working several industry trade shows a week for the past few weeks.  This usually means he’s out of the house by 6:30, on his feet all day, and walking back in the house around 8, exhausted and smelling like a tortilla chip.  After a shower and a snack, it’s off to bed.  If he makes it to 9, it’s a late night.  Blogging has not been his top priority.

(Something to know about Greg, though, is he that loves sleep.  If given a choice between a solid 8 hours and ME, I’m not sure I would win.  I’ve actually come down in the middle of the night to find him sound asleep and smiling.  It’s not the early bedtime that’s been unusual lately, but the grunt work preceding it.  I live with an old man.)

So there you have it.  A little bit of an explanation on where we’ve been, and why it hasn’t been here.  Hopefully, we’ll have something fun and exciting to report.  If not, it’s likely the dog will eat something he’s not supposed to, and that’s always fun to talk about too.  Either way, we won’t be strangers any longer.  How about you do the same?

Hers: I Ran Over A Bridge

This is the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge.  Formerly the Triboro.  (Thanks for the unnecessary name change, MTA.  I’m sure that the confused tourists driving around Astoria looking for the Triboro also agree it was an excellent use of our tax dollars.)

Anyway, last night, I ran across it.  How cool is that?

Now, to clarify, I ran the caged-in bike trail alongside the right lane of the bridge, and did not run amongst the frenetic cabs and 18-wheelers.  Despite occasional evidence that points otherwise, I am not an idiot.  The trail picks up on Astoria and let’s you off on Ward”s Island, where the bridge splits and can take you to Manhattan or the Bronx.  If you want to run further than Ward”s Island, I’m sure it’s possible; however, until I have a GPS, I am not looking to get lost near the island’s only notable landmark, the Manhattan Psychiatric Hospital.  So I ran there, then ran home.

A good thing about running over a bridge is that is keeps your mind off of the “running” part.  Instead of concentrating on the cold, the pain in my knees, or the blister forming on my toe, I concentrated on the NYC skyline in the distance.  I also counted yellow cabs and stray beer bottles (apparently bikers are also heavy drinkers?), checked out some interesting graffiti (graffiti artists cannot spell), and planned an escape route, should a car crash through the barrier and knock me off the bridge (still planning).  As my normal mentality during a run is “this-sucks-i-want-to-stop-i-wonder-what-i-should-make-for-dinner-ouch-ouch-ouch,” I consider this change to be a vast improvement.

In addition, it’s also good to know that, should my car break down and I need to get over to Ward’s Island at a not-very-quick pace for some urgent business, I have an alternate means of transportation.  As in, myself.  With all the crazy that flies around our apartment every day, a visit to pysch ward might come in handy sooner than we think.

My run totaled about 4.5 miles.  Thinking back to several months ago, when training for a 5K was enough to induce full-on panic, this is a fine little achievement.  I even signed up for a 10K on Thanksgiving, for which I have entered into an entirely new form on paranoia.  I’ll be running this race with Greg, or rather, Greg and I will be running at the same time, but he will finish 20 minutes before me and meet my sweaty little body at the finish line.  Hopefully, he will be waiting with cranberry sauce and stuffing.