It's the New York Marathon and I'm the support for my sister who's running. I have her orange juice in my bag along with other goodies.
But from the beginning when we pulled off of 96th Street and Sepulveda in Los Angeles after the LAX shooting in our terminal,Terminal 3, and were stuck in the triangle of police caravans going in one direction, media trucks, and displaced passengers coming from LAX on foot in the other directions - this trip has thrown loops and challenges our way and things have not gone as planned.
Our plan, was to meet at mile 10 in Brooklyn. My sister's mutual friend, and I drop her off in Staten Island and we're waiting to take the ferry back. We're chatted up by a local from Staten Island who came out this morning to support the race. She tells us that because it's a weekend and there's construction we can't take the subway to Brooklyn. It's not running.
Uh-oh.
Well, there's this Grey Lines tour that goes into Brooklyn. If we stop at the last stop that'll put us a few blocks from where we need to be.
On the Grey Line tour we're told that due to the marathon there will only be one stop. When we get off we realize the stop is the furthest possible we could possibly be from the marathon as possible. Checking out our choices, we could walk -- it would take us 59 minutes. My sister just texted. Approaching mile 9. She runs a 9-12 minute mile. Hmmm.
Uh-oh.
We're whipping through Brooklyn on CitiBikes and I'm wheezing, trying to catch my breath while pedaling as fast as I can.The pedestrians on the sidewalk are laughing at me as they walk by because I sound like a dying moose. But it's imperative to get the supplies to our runner so I push on with everything I have.
Why not a taxi? Well, four taxis refused to drive us there.
By the time we get there my sister is already out of Brooklyn and on her way to Queens. We're behind by a half hour.
Uh-oh.
How do we get back over to Manhattan? Riding our Citibikes up and over the Brooklyn Bridge. I'm still dying and can't help but think this would actually be enjoyable if I could be in the moment and not worry about catching up. Not worry about being somewhere. Not worry about keeping a promise and letting someone down. Looking back, I realize that the only one keeping me from enjoying the moment was me. My mentality.
(Photo from Twitter feed of @Fascinatingpics)
We spent the entire day pursuing her actively. For over five hours. But we missed her the whole way. How does that happen? I honestly can say I don't really know. It doesn't sound logical. All I can tell you is the day passed running, biking, subway training from one point to another and we'd miss her by 2 blocks or a some other patch of time/distance. Even at the end, we met back at the hotel instead of the finish line.
It's been a week and I still rack my brain trying to figure out what happened.
But then I stop and realize this is a metaphor for life. When we have this desire to do or be something to get somewhere and we create this pressure on ourselves to get there so much so that we don't enjoy the actual living, the moments of our lives. When we think, I only have so much time and this ticking clock adds pressure to where we want to go, or what we want to do or be.
I spent a weekend in NYC with beautiful weather and looking back I realize I wasn't in the mental space to enjoy the trip in moments. All I needed was a mental adjust.
Because who wants to wake up years later in their old age and realize that they were so busy chasing life that they didn't live it?
