Sunset run
I'M STRESSED. Yeah, I know - who isn't? But guess what, smart-ass? This is my column, and that means I get to complain. If you don't like it, move on to the next page. Ooh, look: party pictures! Why don't you do something useful and go count the number of people who look drunk?
Wow. Sorry about that. I kinda lost it there. See, I'm really burnt out. City life can get to you. Long lines, constant traffic, and crazy people start to wear you down. For example, the other day I was in line at Target and an elderly Asian woman was arguing with the cashier over the price of a family pack of toilet paper. In a rush and unable to handle another second of this broken-English bargaining session, I pulled a $5 bill from my wallet and paid for the woman's shit paper myself. I'm not kidding. (Hey, five bucks for peace of mind ain't all that bad. Not to mention I have the comfort of knowing that this woman and her family won't have to drip dry. In my book, that's good karma all the way around.)
So tonight I'm going out for a run. When I'm stressed out, nothing makes me feel better than running. There's just something about self-torture and solitude that allows me to gain perspective on things in my life. I live in Southie, so I run around Castle Island: a little piece of history that's become a popular spot for early-morning joggers, afternoon family picnics, and late-night perverts.
My regular route is about four miles long. Yeah, I'm no Kenyan, but it's a distance that usually allows me enough time to clear my head and work up a fantastic calf cramp. Tonight as I run, I once again start to question why I live in the city. It's something you regular readers know I do quite a bit. Is the city the best place for me to live, or is it just a place where the crazy and unsettled come to blend in (yours truly not excluded)? I mean, sure, we have great restaurants and world-class museums, but what's really wrong with living in the suburbs? They have the 99! (I could eat my weight in their boneless buffalo wings, and don't even get me started on their fine frozen-drink selection.)
As I round the corner of the castle, Boston's skyline comes into view. It's an unseasonably warm night and, cheesy as it sounds, the sunset is amazing. With my calf cramp arriving well ahead of schedule, I decide to catch my breath on a bench and take in the sight. I sit and watch people pass by: a few couples, some families, and cue the pervert, a guy in a woman's overcoat talking to himself. (No judgment, no judgment.)
This parade of humanity, though devoid of clowns (unless you count the chatty fashionistas), starts to cheer me up. And it helps me remember why I live in the city: for the ability to experience new things. So maybe "unique" and "driven" are better descriptions than "crazy" and "unsettled." And maybe women's outerwear is suddenly all the rage. The point is, I wouldn't have the opportunity to share this sunset with all of these varied individuals if I lived outside the city. And frankly, the thought of not having variety in my life stresses me out. @
Leave a Comment
(required)
(optional)
(required)
Most popular:
