It turns out I didn’t even need to run around the apartment this afternoon for as much walking as I did today. I’m not lying when I say I walked a 10k.
PoP office, to race expo, to train, to dinner, to ice cream, to train, to train, to train, to home.
I almost cried when I got stuck in a mosh pit of Halloween Parade goers in the Village while I was trying to get to the train to head home. When I literally squeezed out of the crowd, the train stop I had been fighting my way towards was blocked off by cops.
Aka … Another potential melt down.
I could only imagine my 20 year-old self yelling at the cops for making things so difficult and potentially unsafe. (Yes, I’ve done that. More than once.)
I just kept walking hoping to find another entrance.
Finally I asked another cop. And she directed me “just” three blocks away through another sea of ghouls and goblins, thankfully crowds not quite as thick.
The stop was also gated, but this one permitting only a thin line trickling down the stairs. We all bottlenecked our way through. By the time I got underground I’d just missed my train.
My feet hurt.
Don’t these people know I’m running a marathon!
(I won’t lie. I thought it;)
10 min. later, the train came. Crowded. No seats.
Stupid costumes. Stupid holiday.
My back is sore.
It seemed like hours had passed since my four course dinner and goat milk ice cream dessert. So worth it, but I should be home by now. This is insane.
I switched trains at Fulton. I’d forgotten that the trek to the 4 is down the escalator, up the stairs, through the long corridor, up some more stairs. Ughhh.
I could have been home an hour ago.
Thankfully the 4 was only 1 minute away. And it was running express. Yes! It was nearly empty. I got a seat.
Just then, a drunk: Madonna, convict, nerd, Hawaiian tourist, and Dracula nearly sat on my lap. All of them. Drunk-loud and drunk-annoying.
My audio book wasn’t much of an escape. It had been boring me for the last hour and I was having the thought, “I wonder if I can return audio books,” while ghost stories and obnoxious burst of laughter tested my nerves nearly all the way to my stop.
I closed my eyes and pretended they were using their inside voices. Out of sight, out of mind. I gave my audio book a second chance, but did recall that people have returned Kindle books, so I would look into it.
I didn’t bite the hook. I thought about it. Quite a bit–clearly. But it wasn’t worth it. It never is. Would getting worked up have gotten me home sooner? Nahh.
My feet still hurt, but the seat was nice. My back felt better given the rest. I was nearly home to my two dears.
I’d made it. With my New York on.
I guess that’s what I get for dressing up as my ego. A whole inner monologue of me, me, me;)
I leave you with this: Catch yourself biting the hook and quick, spit it back out. It ain’t worth trying to pluck it out later. Trust me, I know!
kat hurley is a transformational author, speaker and personal development coach, making over motivation @The Year of Magical Dreaming. For the full 411, visit kathurley.com, yo!