Today is National Walking Day and Mother Nature is cooperating in New York City with a gorgeous Spring day. I recently wrote a piece for Wise Bread about the 10 Most Surprising Benefits of a 10 Minute Walk. It does a body, and especially a heart, good. Get out there.
Category: exercise
Inspired: A Walk a Day Helps Me Think Clearly
I was trying to solve a few challenges over the weekend. My brother-in-law suggested we go to the Met at night before they close. He wanted to sketch a few statues so I took myself for a walk in the Eastern art section. As soon as I started to walk, completely alone with my thoughts, the answers to those challenges started to bubble up to the surface. I was reminded again that walking shakes my thoughts free. I have to walk to think and see clearly. It helps me make sense of all of the jumbled pieces of a situation and then I’m able to better see how well they fit together in a different configuration than the one I’ve been trying to construct. That’s all it takes – 20 minutes and the open road. Simple tools. Powerful results.
Beautiful: I Caught New York City Marathon Fever
Want to run the 2014 ING New York City Marathon with me? 12 years ago I ran the Chicago Marathon with my dear friend, Mark. It was a profound and healing experience and the fulfillment of a dream I’d had since I was a teenage cross-country runner. After I completed the marathon in 4:23:13 on a high, I checked that accomplishment off my list never to run a marathon again. Or so I thought.
Yesterday I woke up early and attributed it to the extra hour from the end of daylight savings time. I quickly realized it was something else. I know what goes into taking all those steps, and I am so proud of these people for making the journey. Watching all the preparations in Central Park this week made me want to join their ranks. I was surprised to feel that tug in my heart, edging me toward the goal of completing my hometown’s biggest race and one of its hallmark celebrations of life. And with that, I decided to run it in 2014. I’ll be 38 by then and it will be 5 years since the apartment building fire that changed everything for me. It’s a bit of a process; I can enter the lottery, raise money for a participating nonprofit, or look at a variety of other options to make it happen.
Have you ever wanted to run a marathon? Does NYC’s race call to you, too? It would be fun to train with people. Whether you’re here in NYC or live far away, we can share our training experiences right here on this blog and encourage each other on the figurative and literal path. And then of course celebrate together at the finish line next year. If you’re interested, let me know. Let’s make it happen.
Beautiful: Walking for Cancer
Sometimes the simplest actions that we do for ourselves and for others have the biggest impact. Yesterday The New York Times ran a story by Edie Littlefield Sundby, a woman who walked 800 miles from San Diego to Sonoma after she fought cancer for 6 years.
It was a grueling physical challenge done over several months with a lot of emotional support from friends and family. And she had never felt more alive, confident, and hopeful for the future. All it took was the determination to get up and out into the world. Sometimes the very best thing we can do when we feel stuck is to summon the will to move.
Beautiful: Make Time for Exercise
I saw this poster a few months ago, and its message rings inside my mind every time I consider not lacing up my running shoes or not unrolling my yoga mat. I’m never sorry I’ve done either; it’s just that overcoming inertia can some times be difficult. That and I’d be perfectly happy to settle in and watch the Big Bang Theory while munching on frozen thin mint Girls Scout cookies.
I pinned this image up at my desk. It reminds me to close my laptop, back away from the desk slowly, and make time to move. Yes, we’ve got problems with our food supply, air quality, and sleep cycles. But what’s killing us is sitting. We sit for too long too often. Active sitting, meditation, is one thing. Sitting at a computer, in front of the TV, or even just reading for too much of the day is quite another scenario.
And then there is the issue of time. We have too much work, too many responsibilities at home, and then there’s that little matter of wanting a social life, too. But we need to carve out the time our schedules to get up and go. Take the stairs. Have a walking date instead of a coffee date (but you’re welcome to take the coffee with you!) Lift some hand weights while you’re watching your favorite TV shows. Or really go for it and make the time to exercise without doing anything else as a diversion to the work at hand.
Age is coming for us whether we like it or not. Sickness is a part of life. But we should at least give ourselves the best possible chance of staying as fit and as young as we can for as long as we can. To do that, we need to move.
Step 219: A Return to the Gym
Before today, I never set foot inside a New York City gym. When I lived in Florida, DC, and Virginia, I went regularly and really enjoyed it. New York gym-going is a whole different ballgame. There used to be a stereotype of New York City gym people – they wear make-up, carefully select their outfits, and try not to sweat too much. An old-school image at best, and probably a way-too-broad characterization, though that image kept me from ever joining a gym in New York City. I like to work out; I just don’t like people watching me work out.
Today, I took my 1-week complimentary pass to New York Sports Club and tried it on for size for a few reasons:
1.) I took a few runs in Riverside Park last week, despite the awful heat and humidity. I felt like a bump on a log, sequestered indoors by summer, so I put on a brave face, grabbed my ipod, and went for it. I hated every second of it. For 2 of the 4 season in New York City, I don’t like to exercise outside. And with my appetite rivaling that of an NFL linebacker, not exercising is not an option.)
2.) My company provides a really valuable discount on the monthly gym fee at NYSC. It’s not widely advertised so I recently learned about it. (Check with you HR department to see if they have gym deals – and if they don’t, ask them if they’re interested in offering that perk. It’s a fairly large discount!)
3.) I like a variety of group fitness classes. I’ve been exploring membership at yoga studios, and while the quality of classes at studios tends to be higher (though not always, even in Manhattan where there is a yoga studio on every corner), the value of so many classes being offered as a package with a gym membership can’t be beat. Some NYSCs also have pools so there may be some additional adult swimming lessons in my future, too.
4.) NYSC is everywhere I am. Work, home, neighborhoods where I spend a lot of my free time. I didn’t realize how many locations they have and my membership allows me to go to any of them at any time, no black out times. And the hours of operation at most of the locations runs from very early morning to very late evening. There really is no excuse for me to not go 3-4 times per week.
5.) The New York gym and gym-goer stereotype is wrong. No one was staring at me while I got my heart rate up on the Precor machine and it wasn’t overly packed. Okay, there was the odd girl here and there who spent as much time checking herself out in the mirror as she did on the treadmill. And there were a couple of overly muscular guys who I’m very worried about because I don’t think they can even touch their knees much less their toes. Those types are just weird and they’re everywhere. But most people were there just doing their thing: burning calories, sweating out stress, and getting their workout in for the day. When I got home I felt better for having done the same.
My Year of Hopefulness – The Woods Can Wait
I woke up at 5:45 on Sunday morning with the feeling that it was Christmas. I could barely sleep I was so excited. My friend and writing partner, Laura, made plans a few weeks ago to head up to Lake Minnewaska today with a group called Adventure Society. I’ve been interested in trying out their trips for over a year and Sunday was the day.
Got a new backpack, some gear at Patagonia, and bought a slew of snacks at Whole Foods. I was a bit surprised at the extensive “to-bring” list that Adventure Society emailed to us. My sister, Weez, and I used to go trekking up to that area regularly when we were kids donning sweatshirts and flip-flops. I grew up very close to Lake Minnewaska, and all we ever brought along was a bag of chips and some water. Maybe when you grow up in the mountains you’re hardier than most others would be in that climate.
The subway was just not working properly so after waiting for 20 minutes, I hopped into a cab and headed to the meeting spot on 59th and 9th. I didn’t want to be late and miss the group – they stated very clearly that “we wait for no one”. Laura was there along with a few others. I wouldn’t call the other people unfriendly, but I certainly wouldn’t say I was excited about being in a van with them for two hours in each direction. Hmmmm….was this a good idea?
About 20 minutes later, we were still at Starbucks. Apparently our trip leader had been mugged late on Saturday night, had the van keys, and couldn’t be located. The substitute trip leader said he was heading down to 39th and 9th to pick up a new van. I felt a little dark cloud making its way over our group.
By 8:30, I started to really questions whether or not this was a good idea. Still at Starbucks, the traffic would be tough now and the trip would be cut short by a significant amount. Being quicker than I am to pick up questionable vibes, Laura had decided 15 minutes ago that this didn’t sound like a good idea at all. So we bid our group farewell, left the Starbucks, and headed up to Central Park on a hike of our own.
We wound our way East and then back West again. We eventually ended up at Sarabeth’s with never-empty cups of coffee, a plate full of pancakes between us to share with our own individual meals to boot. I was overjoyed to not be in that van. Just being with a good friend, talking about our writing, was all I really needed this morning. The trees and grass and squirrels would have been great, though our ability to be flexible and accept to what the world had handed us today gave us just as much happiness.
“We can just go some other time,” I said.
“Yes,” Laura said. “I mean, where are the woods going?” We smiled at each other and chowed down.
We had a whole free day. Laura went home to work on the TJCC site re-design. I went back to my apartment, got out of my multiple layers of hiking clothes, and made my way to the Rose Main Reading Room to be a writer for the day. Sitting in that incredible room, laptop shining, I smiled at having the day to myself to live inside my imagination. (If ever you need to be concentrated and inspired, I highly recommend the Rose Main Reading Room at the New York Public Library on 42nd Street.) My new Patagonia pull-over was supposed to be used for hiking in the mountains and instead I made use for it in the heavily air conditioned library. I was enormously productive. After four hours of straight writing, it’s a safe bet that if you’re looking for me on my free days, there I’ll be, fourth table from the back, glasses on, laptop opened, surrounded by books and papers, typing away.
As I headed home, I grabbed a cupcake from Crumbs, and thought about Robert Frost: The woods are lovely dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles [to write] before I sleep, and miles [to write] before I sleep. “At least for today,” I thought, “the woods will just have to wait.”
The photo above is not my own. It can be found here.
October 14, 2001
Several months ago, I submitted a story to Real Simple Magazine to answer the question, “Tell us about one of the most important days of your life in 1500 words or less.” I’m sure a lot of people wrote about their wedding day, or their kids bring born, a graduation. I wrote about the marathon I ran in in Chicago in 2001, a month after September 11th. I was on the eve of losing my job and was heart-broken that my city had been violated so terribly. I was angry, confused, and scared. For that month after the attack, I felt alone. The Chicago marathon changed some of those feelings for me, and as it turns out it was one of the most poignant moments of my life. Here’s the story:
“In the summer of 2001, I was in Toronto on the Broadway tour of The Full Monty. I was the first person hired full-time for the tour and we had grand plans. I had been working so much that I had neglected my workout schedule and decided a big goal would help me to recommit. In the Fall the tour would be traveling to Chicago, and the Chicago marathon would be in the middle of our run.
I was a cross-country runner in high school and always interested in running a marathon. Chicago was a perfect opportunity! I recruited my friend, Mark, the drummer on the show, to run with me. He wanted to get in better shape, too, and agreed to go the distance with me. I purchased a training book that laid out an ambitious but doable schedule for us and we were off.
Long runs, short runs, speed workouts, stretching, improved eating habits. Mark was with me every step of the way, everyday, with his cheery attitude and lovely British accent. There was no way I could have gotten through the experience without him. Training in Toronto was a magical time in my life because I felt like I was regaining my sense of self. It was easy to get lost in my work, and I needed to rediscover who I was and where my life was going. This training helped me do that.
Before Chicago, we had a brief hiatus and I returned to New York City for a few weeks. I did a few touristy things I had always wanted to do. On September 7th, I ventured to the World Trade Center and had a look around. I had never been to that neighborhood before. There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about that afternoon. I remember that it was a long, beautiful walk along the Battery. I do remember looking out over the water and feeling lucky to be there. I looked forward to coming back to New York when the tour was over.
I left for Chicago on September 9th. Mark and I were getting into top physical shape, and were glad to be reunited to finish our training in Chicago. And then September 11th happened. My brother left me a message that morning, panicked that I was in New York. I figured he heard about some kind of crime in the city on the news. I dismissed his concern as nothing more than his overprotective nature and sense of exaggeration. I tried to call him back and his cell number was busy. Odd. I tried to call my mom. Busy. Was the entire AT&T network down?
I walked to work that morning, winding my way through the theatre district in Chicago. A beautiful day. I had never been to Chicago before and was entranced by it. This was going to be a great run for us. I stopped in at the Corner Bakery to get a coffee and a danish. Could life be any better? Then I got to work.
My boss was frantically searching on the internet, listening to NPR. The office phone was ringing off the hook.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Two planes flew into the World Trade Center.”
“By accident?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” he replied.
And then everything was different.
My beautiful city, the very area I had been only days before, was in chaos. We worked all day, talking with our producers, easing the fears of our company members, and trying to calm our own fears. Finally, they closed the Loop in Chicago, and we were forced to leave the theatre.
I went to visit my friends and finally saw so many of the pictures that people had been watching all day. It was even more devastating than I had imagined. I went to bed that night thinking that our nation would never be the same, that all these years I had taken our safety for granted. I was right on both counts.
Within a month, our show announced its closing and we lost our jobs. The bottom fell out of the theatre industry. But before closing down, Mark and I ran the marathon. On Saturday, October 14th, we arrived at the starting line at 6am. We dropped off our valuables at check-in and got our numbers. We had trained hard in the final weeks – running was the only time of day I felt useful. Still, I was worried that we weren’t ready. Maybe we wouldn’t be able to finish. Maybe there was just no point to anything anymore.
We lined up, the gun went off, and slowly we wound our way through the neighborhoods of Chicago. The morning was sunny, the temperature perfect. A few miles in, I found that for the first time in a month, I noticed the sunshine, and felt warm. Mark and I stopped at every water and food station to keep our energy up.
What struck me the most about that race was the generosity of the crowd lining the entire route. I hadn’t expected that. They had orange slices and popcorn, cowbells and signs to cheer us on. That crowd made me believe in the goodness of the world, in our ability to reaffirm life.
17 miles in, my knees began to ache terribly. “Come on, Love. We can do this,” Mark said. With that vote of confidence, he gave me a Tylenol. My knee pain was gone in minutes since my blood had been pumping strong for over two hours. Mentally, I was still feeling rattled. And then Mark did something that will make me love him forever. Mark asked me, “How did you start running?”
No one had ever asked me that before. Truth was, I started running to run away from my life. My dad was sick for most of my childhood and during my teen years, the situation in my home grew dire. I suffered from insomnia, and found that long-distance running would tire me out enough to sleep peacefully for a few hours. When I was racing, I knew my family was proud of me. I also thought if I could get good enough, I might be able to go to college on a partial scholarship. There was no money in my family to send me to college.
In my junior year of high school, I sustained a terrible injury that knocked me out for the season. I was devastated. I felt broken. I had a hard time walking for a number of months and began to run on my injured foot too soon, re-injuring it. A few months later, my father passed away after a long illness. While there was more peace in the house after his passing, it was an uncomfortable silence. That spring, I ran to forget, to hide. I didn’t care if I won any event. I just wanted to exhaust myself.
After that injury, I had the goal of someday running a marathon to pay tribute to my family for having lived through a difficult time. So this was it. This marathon was for my family. And if I could make it 26.2 miles, I’d believe that finally my body and my spirit were no longer broken.
Mark was quiet the whole time. I thought he might be bored with my droning. Turns out he was just a very good listener. “I’m sure that today your dad’s proud of you,” Mark said. And I believed him.
At the 26-mile mark, the finish line was in sight. There were banners flying high, and masses of people cheering. I felt like I was flying. At that point, Mark and I had to split because they timed men and women separately. We’d reunite at the end of the race. I smiled so wide crossing that finish line that I thought my face might crack. I lost all sense of exhaustion and burden. Mark and I made it – 26.2 miles in less than four and a half hours, step by step, together.
That day, I learned more about the world than any other day before or since. I developed a special fondness for Chicago – I felt that the crowd who came out that day breathed new life into me at a time when I felt very hollow and alone. That crowd helped me to refocus on the generosity and commitment of people to a community. Despite a dark set of circumstances facing all of us, we could rediscover happiness and enlightenment and move forward. I learned that true friendship carries us in the most trying times. I’m forever indebted to Mark for his positive attitude and belief in me. Almost 10 years after my dad’s passing, I lived up to the promise to honor my family. I raced toward sunshine, and found it. And I have been alight ever since. “
The photo above can be found at: http://riseupomenofgod.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/running-man.jpg
Christa Avampato 
