Thanksgiving

At the risk of sounding like a predictable harpy to those of you who have been reading PF for a while, I will point out that Thanksgiving generally (and at best) leaves me cold; I protest holidays and these sorts of traditions on principle. This November, though, I couldn’t muster up my usual anti-holiday piss & vinegar. Even more remarkably, I am in a good mood! I didn’t lob one cross remark at Husband, didn’t snap at Nana or want to push anyone out of my way. I barely even cussed. I’d say it was a Christmas Miracle, ‘cept it ain’t Christmas (thank fucking god).

Few things smell as good as pumpkin pie right out of the oven, which is a fortunate thing indeed since I was up at 5:30 AM to make mine. Its spicy aroma followed me out the door as I left to honor my Thanksgiving tradition–an Over the Bridge and Back 5-miler. Every fourth Thursday of November, I ritualize one of the sweetest runs of the year. Traffic is so light it’s surreal, and inevitably my spirits rise along with my elevation as I summit the Queensboro Bridge. It started last night, when my heart felt so full. There is an abundance of love in my life right now; I’ve done extremely little to deserve it but I’m trying my best to mirror it back at friends, family, comrades-in-arms, fellow runners, whoever needs it. The worst has past and I can feel it deep inside. There are beautiful things to come, there is pain on the horizon, surprise and dismay crouch around the corner. I can’t wait and I’m in no hurry; it’s all good.

This 5-miler is so familiar to me that I think my affection for it has turned into unconditional love. No matter the views, weather, headwinds, traffic or my pace–something along the route always speaks to me. This morning, the city’s skyscrapers were obscured as I ran towards them, cut off at the waist by white fog. Six different runners passed me and my blissed-out grin, surely everyone should run over my bridge today! The river ran smooth and cool, and somewhere on the opposite side of Manhattan teams of people were getting ready to parade down Central Park West to Herald Square. Thank you for my healthy body, thank you for running, thank you for all the strange and dazzling things that make me who I am. Thank you for my brother, and my dad. Thank you for Husband and Matilda, thank you for Nana (who was sweet as cranberry sauce today), thank you for my city and my age and music and wine and love and dancing and blue dresses and traffic and everything else that makes me stop and take it all in. Thank you equally for truth and for dissimulation; thank you for joy so intense I mourn its disappearance even while it is in its throes. Thank you for letting me see people I love grow stronger, smarter and whole; thank you for letting me play a part in that. Thank you for compassion (I love how it goes both ways). Just fucking thank you; life’s been crap and life’s been great and I’ve waited a long time to be able to say I am ready to be exactly where I am (which is, running away then running back).

• Thanksgivings Past (2006 and 2008).
• Vegan Pumpkin Pie.

Songs I ran to: ”Gone Country” by Alan Jackson,  “My Maria” by Brooks & Dunn, “Cowboy Take Me Away” by Dixie Chicks, “Blue Clear Sky” by George Strait, “Here for the Party” by Gretchen Wilson, “Heads Carolina, Tails California” by Jo Dee Messina, “Kiss a Girl” by Keith Urban, “I’m Alive” by Kenny Chesney, “When She Cries” by Restless Heart, “She Don’t Know She’s Beautiful” by Sammy Kershaw, “Where Do I Go Wrong” by Steve Wariner, “Bye Bye” by Jo Dee Messina, “Drive South” by Suzy Bogguss and ”Should’ve Been a Cowboy” by Toby Keith. Bonus Tracks: “Gettin’ You Home” by Chris Young, “Just Got Started Lovin’ You” by James Otto and ”Keep on Lovin’ You” by Steel Magnolia

Clockwise starting at 7: cranberry stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, turkey, salad, rolls, sausage stuffing, green beans, creamed spinach. Not pictured: yams with marshmallow and brussel sprouts with baby onions. Dessert: pumpkin pie and apple crumble.