Again, I'm too lazy to write about running so I'll just dump a lot of pictures on you and call it a post.
If you look closely, you'll see that my shoes have "Tracy Tracy Tracy" written on each of the toe boxes. I have two pairs of identical shoes with vastly different mileage on them, so I wrote my name on the older pair to keep me from getting confused.
What do you think about injinji socks? I guess I like them well enough, but I won't seek out a new pair once these are gone.
Also, the penny is there on the floor for scale. NOT because I'm lazy and my house is a mess and there is random change on the floor. That would be totally gross.
This is a rocky promenade in St. Nicholas Park where I once saw two kids in flagrante. Remember kids: just because no one walking BELOW you can see what you're doing, that doesn't mean that people walking ABOVE you can't see you. It just furthered proved my long-standing theory, which is that the people you see naked in public are never the people you want to see naked in public.
I never took Latin. The dead languages I've studied (Sumerian, Akkadian, and Egyptian) were all nearly obsolete by the time Latin rolled in, but I think there might be a spelling error in here.
125th Street was full of people and not very good for running. The McDonald's has Shamrock Shakes. I didn't stop for one. (I'm strangely proud of this.)
On the way home, I decided to run through St. Nicholas Park. It was empty, and getting dark. And I took the road less traveled. Miles to go before I sleep. Or something.
Bonus 9th grade English question: does that poem express remorse, quiet satisfaction, or both? Or neither? (The Road Not Taken, not Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening)
Even though it's barely two blocks from my apartment, I rarely run through the park. Shortly after I moved in to my neighborhood, a recent college grad disappeared while running through the park. That made me leery about running through the park alone. Not because I was afraid for my safety, mind you. Her story ended happily - well, as happily as dissociative fugue can get, which is to say that she's alive today and she didn't end up chopped up in a dumpster.
I wasn't afraid for my safety. I was stunned and saddened by the realization that I was no longer a young girl. If I went missing, it wouldn't be a tragic story about a girl, plucked from youth, a life cut short. I'm - gasp - in my 30s.
Oh, also? I don't run in the park because there are stairs. Loads of them.
If you look closely, you'll see that my shoes have "Tracy Tracy Tracy" written on each of the toe boxes. I have two pairs of identical shoes with vastly different mileage on them, so I wrote my name on the older pair to keep me from getting confused.
What do you think about injinji socks? I guess I like them well enough, but I won't seek out a new pair once these are gone.
Also, the penny is there on the floor for scale. NOT because I'm lazy and my house is a mess and there is random change on the floor. That would be totally gross.
This is a rocky promenade in St. Nicholas Park where I once saw two kids in flagrante. Remember kids: just because no one walking BELOW you can see what you're doing, that doesn't mean that people walking ABOVE you can't see you. It just furthered proved my long-standing theory, which is that the people you see naked in public are never the people you want to see naked in public.
I never took Latin. The dead languages I've studied (Sumerian, Akkadian, and Egyptian) were all nearly obsolete by the time Latin rolled in, but I think there might be a spelling error in here.
125th Street was full of people and not very good for running. The McDonald's has Shamrock Shakes. I didn't stop for one. (I'm strangely proud of this.)
On the way home, I decided to run through St. Nicholas Park. It was empty, and getting dark. And I took the road less traveled. Miles to go before I sleep. Or something.
Bonus 9th grade English question: does that poem express remorse, quiet satisfaction, or both? Or neither? (The Road Not Taken, not Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening)
Even though it's barely two blocks from my apartment, I rarely run through the park. Shortly after I moved in to my neighborhood, a recent college grad disappeared while running through the park. That made me leery about running through the park alone. Not because I was afraid for my safety, mind you. Her story ended happily - well, as happily as dissociative fugue can get, which is to say that she's alive today and she didn't end up chopped up in a dumpster.
I wasn't afraid for my safety. I was stunned and saddened by the realization that I was no longer a young girl. If I went missing, it wouldn't be a tragic story about a girl, plucked from youth, a life cut short. I'm - gasp - in my 30s.
Oh, also? I don't run in the park because there are stairs. Loads of them.
just got a new pair of shoes of which I already have 2 of the 3 colors available...the 3rd being pink, which I will not buy. So I have a pair that I will now write KATE KATE KATE on!!! Feckin' brilliant, girl.
ReplyDeleteHa! Glad you like my idea :)
ReplyDeleteplease always be safe. But Hannah Upp did not disappear while running. She apparently faked the whole thing, but certainly was not running and was not attacked in St Nicholas Park, Harlem or anywhere else. She was either crazy and/or a faker, but not her disappearance had nothing to do with running or with the park.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comment. Perhaps I should have clarified. When she first disappeared, the news as it was reported was that she had left the apartment in her running clothes and frequently ran around St. Nicholas Park, thus leading most of the early reporting to suggest that she disappeared while running. To my knowledge, she either doesn't know or hasn't said how she spent her time while missing (aside from the sightings, like at the Apple store). I've never met her and I have no idea what actually happened to her, but living in the neighborhood, I can say that her story was a wake up call to safety. However, you're right that I should have clarified.
ReplyDelete