P Is for Post Office

Before I could leave for Pennsylvania with Matilda, I had a few things to take care of including picking up a package from the post office, getting a pedicure, and moving the car (Friday is an alternate side of the street day in our neighborhood). And, since I had taken the day as a vacation day, I also wanted to get my run in during business hours, just as a nice way to underscore the fact that while the rest of the world was busy getting things done for The Man, I was out running like a newly-released prisioner though the streets of New York City.

I was being practical–I’d run to the post office, finishing my run about 20 minutes before the end of alternate side parking, so that I could complete my workout, retrieve my parcel, and then move the car all in one fell swoop.Rarely am I ever this efficient; I am a little bit proud. Of course, the post office is just three blocks from my apartment, and I wanted to get in a solid 5-miler yesterday. So, of course I took the long way to the post office, running away from it, crossing my bridge, and then heading back into Queens. Instead of cutting left once I an through Queens Plaza, I kept ever to the right, which put me on Queens Boulevard rather than Skillman to 43rd Avenue.

This workout was a bit of a stunner. I was fighting a south-blowing wind as I crossed the bridge both ways (the pedestrian path is on the north side of the brdge). Then as I came up Queens Boulevard the headwind was so strong at one point that even though my feet were running forward I was not moving. It reminded me of the Bronx Half from the beginning of this year. I was vaguely aware I was working hard, but some stretches of the course felt effortless. It’s always a relief to come down off the 59th Street Bridge after two serious uphills, dumping down into Queens Plaza. The music was really popping on my iPod this day, and I had to bust out with some air drums for White Rabbit. Heading through the Plaza, I couldn’t resist the speed so I spread my arms and airplaned it around the curve. Voosh!

Little G was doing his reliable thing on my wrist, ticking off the miles as I let my mind wander. So much to look forward to, so much to do, so much to remember, and so, so incredibly much to just push out of my mind. Ever spend a run tossing aside unwanted thoughts like used Kleenex? Ever spend a run retreading the same happy thought over and over, afraid to leave it and move on, lest it never enter your mind again?

I arrived at the post office, breathing hard and with a stitch in my side from a final mile of pushing uphill and against a headwind (unwilling to slow down, of course). Once inside, I pulled up the workout summary on Little G and audibly exclaimed, Holy crap! The entire ragtag line of USPS customers looked up at me in unison.  Um, hi!

5.17 miles in 44:50. Average pace? 8:40 minutes per mile. Fastest split? 7:55.  Voosh!

Songs I ran to:  “Pale Blue Eyes” by R.E.M., “Palm of Your Hand” by Cake, “Passive Manipulation” by The White Stripes, “Passtime Paradise” by Stevie Wonder, “The Patient Ferris Wheel” by The Gaslight Anthem, “Pay It Back” by Elvis Costello, “Pay Me My Money Down” by Bruce Springsteen, “Peaches” by The PResidents of the United States, “Peg” by Steely Dan, “Penso Positivo” by Jovanotti, “Per Fortuna Purtroppo” by Irene Grandi, “Percussion Gun” by White Rabbits, “Perro Amor Explota” by Bersuit Vergarabat, “Pesada (Com Maigaz) by Control Machete and “Peter Gunn (Max Sedgley Remix)” by Sarah Vaughan