Cue the jackhammer one block down. In come the beats from steps on the scaffolding two stories below. Long honking sounds from yellow taxis, beeps from the NYPD, unforgiving sirens from an FDNY engine or ladder truck changing frequency with distance. I miss my daily irreverent musical staged every morning outside the window I rented (attached to an apartment) on the corner of West End Ave and 103rd. Though some of you thought I was going to discuss The Book of Mormon musical or even the shock-named Mother F**er With A Hat, I would rather leave those to others for now.
When I peeked out from the west facing window the sun and shadows on the buildings indicated the time of the morning; the less glare the earlier it was, the better it was for me to run* and the simpler the sounds were outside. From my perspective, the change in the sun's reflection and the sounds below were my cues. Get up. Experience the day!
**********Note**************
I ALWAYS make sure I pack running shoes and associated accoutrement when I travel. I make room in the suitcase for two pairs of running socks, a running outfit and my running shoes. This is not easy for a woman who likes her high-healed shoes and flirty dresses but I will make the sacrifice. This time I brought two pairs of fancy-heeled party shoes, a strappy, white, low-heeled sandal, a pair of walking shoes (Toms are wonderful for that) and my running shoes; Brooks with about 100 miles on them. I stuff the running socks in the trainers so they don't take up any space in the suitcase.
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While the girls slept in cool sheets, the city symphony outside the bedroom walls slowly waking them from a peaceful night's rest, I sipped some water, laced up the shoes, adjusted the footpod that recorded my pace, speed and other geeky, techno-bits about my running, walked out the door and started my Garmin training watch for Le Tour de la Ville. I would go see the instruments in the morning orchestra that wakes me up each day.
There were hundreds of people going to work, walking dogs, pushing strollers, leading preschoolers to Riverside Park for Sesame Street-like playground time. Black cars revved their engines to make the yellow light on their way downtown with their late clients. I ran east toward Central Park. Friends called to each other, hobos slept on yesterday's paper up against the brownstones while others talked to themselves with an untamed waving of their hands: my orchestra director for the day I presume.
Four blocks from my start point and I have run a varied cross-section of socio-economic backgrounds from the desirable West End address through the Frederick Douglass public housing that touched the sky and on to Central Park-facing apartments where the real Jerry Seinfeld lives. I jog around all the walkers on the sidewalk and, not waiting for the signal to change in my advantage (I was finally becoming a New Yorker!) I land in Central Park (http://www.birdsofcentralpark.com/index.php/map). A world of green explodes in front of me. The birds are singing in tune and there is a small brook where cobbles line a short waterfall. The water moves under a bridge. Near "The Pool" some water fowl land with a slight splash and I hear it. Impossible. The jackhammers, food carts, taxis, are right behind me 50 yards, but 50 yards in front of me I hear the splash of water and the crunch of my running shoes on the dirt path. I run for only 30 minutes in the greenspace since I have to still get back to the apartment after I leave the boundary of Central Park. We were leaving that day and I wanted to make sure we left the apartment in tip-top shape for the returning family.
The dissonant sounds that filled the streets as I ran the four blocks back to my home from the park boundary was like the beginning of this Vaughn Williams Symphony (#4: movement 4) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4vnLCm0qn4. Some of the symphony feels like my run. (A story for another day: how music makes the run.) But it was pleasing to hear. I welcomed my New York sounds. Some were jarring and tuneless while others kept a funky beat. I miss my morning melodies like a silly symphony, the irreverent musical. These cacophonous hummings played in a socialized ipod. Everybody who was "unplugged" to their own devices heard them. As I reflected on this I entered the apartment building and walked up the stairs. I gain entree into the apartment and peel off my shoes. I was full of endorphins, inspiration, aspirations and I was thriving. I had fallen in love with New York City in my running shoes.
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