Matthew Gallaway

A Surprisingly Benign New Year Is the Best We Can Hope For

1. In running news, it has been a week of optimism, paranoia, and conspiracy. (Much like the year we're now saying goodbye to.) On Monday, running on a treadmill, I shattered my best time for 13.1 miles (the distance of my upcoming race) with a time of 1:25:48, or an average split (per mile) of 6:31. It seemed like I would have no trouble beating 1 hour and 30 minutes in the race, my goal, which requires splits of around 6:50. Like I could stop in the middle and have a beer and still make it! But then on Friday, I went outside for my long run and ran 14.5 miles in about 1 hour and 48 minutes, which is almost a minute slower per mile when you average it out. Granted, it was freezing and I picked the wrong direction to run along the river, which meant I was crushed by wind as unrelenting and punishing as a Republican Senator, and then I got a knife-in-the-side abdominal cramp running back along (the very hilly) Riverside Drive, which is also a minefield of misplaced, broken paving stones. I was not exhibiting the "smooth form" I like to envision myself possessing! What was going on? Did I have any hope?  2. In search of answers, I decided to do some research on the internet, and soon arrived a place where you can imagine a Venn Diagram with overlapping circles for "nerds" and "runners." Here I discovered (via science) that to best replicate running outdoors, you need to set the treadmill at an incline of 1.0. (Like they've conducted many experiments proving this result.) This was very dispiriting and ANNOYING news, because it means that for my treadmill workouts, I've been effectively running downhill, even though I thought that an incline of 0.0 would best mimic the flat course where I'll be racing. (Plus my outdoor runs have major hills, and I wanted to concentrate on speed while on the treadmill.)  3. Oh well. I reminded myself that it makes absolutely no difference if I run a few minutes over or under 1:30. The process is what's important, the runs have been beautiful, I'm in "kickass shape," and so on. (But seriously, don't you hate it when people tell you to "enjoy the process" and the ten-thousand variations on this theme? It's not that they're wrong, of course, but it's one of those things that never helps to say, or hear; in my experience, if you need to be reminded to "enjoy the process," you're probably not enjoying it, especially when you're running into Arctic winds with a stabbing cramp.) 4. On the other hand, nothing -- not even the recent election or anything that's going to happen in the next four-eight years -- is going to matter in 100 million years when the earth is swallowed up by a black hole and explodes into a new solar system. (This is maybe not the most helpful perspective, however, for getting through life, so is probably something else best left unsaid.) 5. I've been thinking about new phrases that we could use to replace "Happy New Year," which in light of recent and (let's be honest: likely) future events has become increasingly trite and unrealistic and DEPRESSING. Here are some possibilities for you to try out. "Enjoy the Process!" "Nothing Matters Anyway!" (Just kidding about those two.) "The Measurement of Time is an Arbitrary Construct." (Maybe a bit of a mouthful.) I don't know, maybe we'll have to just deal with "Happy New Year" and pray that whatever happens will defy all expectation and be surprisingly benign.  6. Maybe "Don't Give Up Completely" is better; we can emulate the hellebore and begin to flower even when the winter is here. Anyway, hope it's a good one and I'll see you next year :)

Notes on Christmas Eve, the Best Part of Christmas

1. All week I was dreading Saturday -- the day of my long run -- because the forecast called for freezing rain and high winds. Why did the weather gods hate me? On Thursday, Stephen said, "why don't you do it tomorrow instead?" For some reason, the idea had not occurred to me. So I went on Friday, which was cold but clear, or much better than freezing rain and high winds. Then today (Saturday), I went on a shorter run after the rain had stopped. Sometimes the solution to our problems is right in front of us, I guess is what I'm saying. 2. This week there was an article in The Times about how distance running is actually a good "workout" (lol?) for the part of your brain that focuses on complex problem solving. REDEMPTION. They had done experiments with runners and non-runners, which showed that the brains of non-runners were basically rotting hunks of comatose flesh, whereas those of distance runners were firing neurons like a Pink Floyd laser-light show (for "younger readers," this was a regular thing in the '80s to entice freaks and burnouts to pay money to get into the local planetarium). Anyway, today I was thinking about how distance running -- particularly when you're outside -- is more complicated than it might appear at first glance. You constantly have to calibrate for pace (too fast and you'll die, too slow and you'll never finish) and nagging pains (the decision being whether to stop or "run through it") and constant dog-leash and dog-poop avoidance, which The Times euphemistically referred to as "navigation skills." In conclusion, distance running is, in fact, like playing a moderately complicated video game! 3. The problem with the brains of distance runners, however, is that while they/we are good at solving logical problems, they/we are not so good at "politics," which is why most distance runners lead lives of obsessive frustration. Running has many variables, but on the whole is fairly logical; the world, as you may have noticed, is not so logical (unfortunately/fortunately). 4. This week they finally opened the southern passageway from the Chambers Street A/C/E station (the one I take to my new office) into The Oculus, the $450 trillion transportation hub that opened earlier this year to replace everything that was destroyed in 9/11. I was pretty happy about the passageway, because it means I can now avoid the clumps of tourists that congregate at the top of the subway steps leading out to Church Street and instead walk through this beautiful cathedral (which I say earnestly, notwithstanding the fact that it's basically an upscale shopping mall). 5. It's hard to blame The Oculus for being an upscale shopping mall when the same could be said of the entire island of Manhattan south of 96th Street (and possibly 125th), not to mention the neighboring parts of Brooklyn and Queens. "Wow, there's an Apple Store in the Oculus!" -- so many people in 2017. (Disclaimer: I'm typing on an Apple right now.) 6. In non-technology related news, one of the orchids is blooming. 7. "Wowsville." -- Elektra 8. "I want a Macbook Pro for Christmas." -- Clio "Sad." -- Elektra9. "I used to be excited about the internet, but now it's depressing and I want off. Whatever. If you agree, be sure to @ me on Twitter/FB/Instagram/SnappyChat/LinkyDin" -- Dante and everyone else born before/after 2008 10. On my run today I tried to think about only moderately complicated things. 11. Like seriously, how is the passage of time even possible? I was almost fifty: so many Christmases come and gone. I remembered being eight and how excited I was on Christmas Eve to open one present, which was a tradition in our family. (Probably because I had annoyed everyone to death begging to open something.) That year I was beyond excited about getting the game "Jaws" -- which I knew about because 1) it was at the top of my list, and 2) I had seen it in my mother's closet, after sneaking in -- so that when she asked me which present I wanted to open first, I said "Jaws" instead of "the big square box" or something similarly nondescript. I remember the shame I felt when I said it, but if my mother heard, she didn't say anything and we all pretended it was a surprise a few hours later when I finally opened it. (It was a cheap, plastic game that in reality offered none of the excitement I associated with the tv commercial -- why were those kids so excited? -- much less the movie, so I learned my lesson: television advertising is a sham.) I'm not sure if it was that year or the next when I got "Merlin," which was an amazing electronic game that looked like a red telephone with nine flashing dots. I remember calling my friend to gloat about getting Merlin, but he got it, too. (Which is another kind of lesson.) 12. This year, my mother sent me some new running socks, a perfect gift for someone of my advanced age and sullen disposition. I was genuinely excited to try them out today, even if it meant going on my "morning run" at 1:00 pm. (Screw you, weather!) They kept my feet warm and dry and -- thanks to a lip attached to the back heel -- did not slide into my shoe the way some of my other inferior ones tend to do.  13. The years come and go, but one truth remains: Christmas Eve, even when it's raining, is the best part of Christmas. 




 

Even in the Snow the Park Is a Perfect Political Metaphor

1. All week I was looking at the forecast and dreading this morning, predicted to have a mix of snow turning to ice turning to rain, which is not ideal running weather. The forecast turned out to be 100-percent correct and I resolved to run on the treadmill. But once I was out shoveling, I realized I wanted to see my favorite tree in the snow, and so off I went. 2. In some ways, it was easier than yesterday, when it was sixteen degrees and still painfully windy. (Wind chill minus four thousand.) I wore so many layers and still thought my nose was going to fall off when I was running south along the river. The problem for me -- and, I'm sure, others like me -- is that wrapping up my face means that my glasses fog up. Life is full of compromises, obviously. 3. All pain aside, the frozen colors in the park were perfect.  4. Here's the same view only twenty-four hours later. Weather! 5. "I voted for Donald Trump because he promised to make the weather perfect for me all the time." -- every Donald Trump supporter, more or less 6. Like so many voters confronting the real world, the lamb's ears (Stachys byzantina) wilted when confronted with frigid reality. 7. Other plants, less naive, were better equipped for the cold weather and glowed in the distant sun. 8. Some landscapes look amazing in any weather, although here it's important to remember that the park, an artificial landscape, requires a lot of work and money to keep it looking vibrant and available to everyone. 9. I wonder what the metaphorical park/artificial landscape that is our country will look like in four or eight years, because right now it seems like the metaphorical walls are going up, the metaphorical gates are being slammed shut, and the metaphorical plants are being sold to the highest bidders. (The highest bidders are of course completely literal.) 10. Right after I took this picture, my camera-equipped phone turned off and wouldn't turn on again, because it was too cold. I guess we all have differing ways of coping. 11. And then I was back again. Everything looked the same, but very different too. 12. Running through the snow isn't exactly running, but it's still a good workout. It's like "cross-training," meaning it's good for your balance and "engages your core" because you have to do a lot of high stepping and swinging of the arms and so forth. I only went about half as far as I usually go, which I hope doesn't ruin my half-marathon training schedule. (I'm pretty sure it won't.)  13. I hope Donald Trump gets rid of the plastic bag that's stuck in the tree. 14. Back at home, I took Clio out into the snow. Everyone else turned around, and it didn't take long for her to follow. 15. "I'm young but I'm learning fast."

Late Autumn at ROKC (Also: End Free Parking)

1. On Sunday, Stephen and I went for a walk along the river, which was glowing. The midtown skyline was visible in the distance, only about seven or eight miles away, a three or four hour trip by way of the broken subway system. 2. I recently posted a picture to FB and one of my college classmates asked if I was familiar with the rose bush under the GWB. I told him that the rose bush and I were old friends, both IRL and on FB. 3. "Where is everyone?" -- me, Sunday afternoon 4. We walked up to Broadway and 141 to our favorite new Japanese restaurant, ROKC. I've never been to Japan, but Stephen assured me that this is exactly how restaurants look in Tokyo. I guess I don't have to go now! 5. Inside we had bowls of ramen and listened to jazz (flute). We didn't order the fancy cocktails this time, but it was still a perfect way to spend a late-autumn afternoon. 6. Friday morning, I went running. By now it was cold and windy. The park was mostly asleep. 7. I distracted myself by thinking about Vancouver, which has a very progressive transportation system, with separate lanes for bikes. 8. Lately I've become obsessed with the idea that New York City needs to eliminate parking from one half of all the streets, charge for the remainder of the spots, and use the revenue to build legitimate bike lanes that cars and SUVs can't invade the way they always obnoxiously do when you're on a bike. It's time to stop subsidizing parking for the minority of people in the city who own cars. 9. I wasn't optimistic that my parking reforms were going to be implemented in the near future, but it's good to be a little angry when you're running. It helps you go faster and ignore the cold. 10. At least until I turned the corner, and the rising sun warmed me up for a few seconds before I turned back into the wind.

The Wind Said Lol (Welcome to Hell)

1. Yesterday the wind was from the south, which meant that I was running into the wind. Today, on my long run, I decided to run north, thinking I would trick the wind. 2. Guess what. The wind switched directions and was stronger than ever. When I turned around at the river (not pictured), I said to the wind, "You're kidding me, right?" and the wind said, "Lol."  3. Flying back from Pittsburgh this week, I sat next to a family -- a mother and father and three children -- who were seeing New York City for the first time. They were so excited! When the plane crossed through the clouds, they pointed at One World Trade Center and the Statue of Liberty. I showed them Central Park and City Island in the Bronx. My cynical inclinations to say "Welcome to Hell" and "Make sure you give yourself three hours if you're taking the A-train" vanished. "There's really no other city like it," I said with knowing pride. "New York is so cool," said the teenager. 4. But then I heard the mother talking to another passenger, and it turned out that the family was staying in New York City just long enough to transfer to a flight to Orlando. "Have fun in Orlando," the other passenger said to the mother, who turned to me. "Thanks for being our tour guide." "Anytime," I said. 5. Our garden was filled with fallen leaves, which like votes in the United States did not add up to anything. Elektra scanned the sky for flying snakes. "They're all in the White House now," she said. 6. Like DT, I resolved to do something to "clean things up." Here's the "before" picture. 7. And here's the "after." 8. The pin oaks, unaware that the flying snakes had landed, glowed happily.