Yogini in Central Park

I have been traveling up the east coast for the last few days having many adventures. I am no longer at my parents' home so I am finally safe from snakes but I did travel through New York City which, as you may know, is a pigeon's paradise. Needless to say there was some awkward ducking happening on the streets of NY just yesterday. By the grace of God I escaped unscathed (unlike Fabio on the roller coaster circa seven years ago . . . I'll never forget, Fabio! you have not suffered in vain!).

Being in New York is always fun. I love shopping, sightseeing and, of course, visiting my roommate from college who now resides on the Upper East Side (how very Carrie Bradshaw of her. . . ).  She lives just three blocks from Central Park and five from Museum Mile-- what a great spot.

One of the things I was dying to do while I was there was go for a run in Central Park. I was so fixated on it for some reason that I literally could not sleep on Sunday night because I was too excited to explore the park in my running shoes the following morning. Yes, I really am that big of a loser. So, I got up at 8 the next morning after sleeping about three hours, and went for a run. I ran around the reservoir and then down through much of the park. Of course I had no idea where I was going which made it all the more fun. I had a great run.

I am completely overjoyed by my random display of enthusiasm for running because, you see, I have been in a major running slump. My knees were hurting, my routes seemed boring and running just seemed like such a chore. Instead of it being something I looked forward to, something that gave me energy, I dreaded it and went on strike.

You may have guessed this about me but it is not easy to get me to do something I don't want to do. Just ask my father about bringing me to Mass every Sunday growing up. I was not above hiding in my room or throwing temper tantrums to get out of going to hear some old guy bore me to death. Even though my plans never worked, I never gave up my quest for a Mass-free Sunday. Once my father wrestled me there, I would sneak off to the bathroom and practice my cartwheels. If there was one good thing about my church, it's that the bathrooms were HUGE. Perfect for my routines . . .

Thankfully, my desire to run has returned-- the strike is over. I am so grateful to have the will back because I do love running. Not all the time, but it really is a gratifying thing to do. It's hard not to be thankful for your body when you run. Raising my heart rate, getting in sync with my breathing and pushing myself are things that I really love to do. Perhaps all I needed was something new to explore to make me remember why I do it in the first place.