H Is for Hunt

I have to find a place to live. Closing on my current apartment is likely to be some time in January, and I still haven’t found an apartment in Sunnyside I want to buy. Well, I found one, but it fell through and now the market has been kind of stagnant. They say that sellers tend to list their places after the holidays, so I might have more options in the new year. But in the meantime, I’m still giving the apartment hunt the old college try. I saw four this weekend. One, in a building I’ve fantasized about before, is completely out of my budget. The others are within my range, but I didn’t love any of them. I didn’t love this apartment either when we bought it, and that indifference quickly grew into dislike which became full-blown intolerance. I don’t want to end up in the same situation again, so the hunt continues. In the meantime, I feel a bit like Dorothy in her ruby slippers (or silver, as they are in the novel), clicking my heels and intoning There’s no place like home [if only I knew where that would be]… There’s no place like home [none of these apartments are right for me]…

Before I met the real estate agent on Saturday, I ran over my bridge. Some of the construction in Queens Plaza has been completed so I can now take a more direct route, which takes .2 miles off the out-and-back. I am running less these days, partly due to the cold but also because I five days of running in a week remind my body it was recently in a serious car accident. I end up with unnecessary aches and pains. Acupuncture once a week has helped. No excuses, however: the Queensboro Bridge kicked my butt this weekend. That long climb out of Queens slowed me up significantly, and I even felt a little fatigue in my legs as I trotted the final half-mile towards my apartment building. It is telling that there is a 47-second distance in time between Mile 3 (which has the last bit of the Manhattan-bound incline, plus the entirety of the steep slope back towards Queens) and Mile 4, which is consists entirely of me surfing down the back of my bridge. This is a route where something is seriously kaflooie if I am not running a negative split. The hill was just painful enough that I forgot to lift my chin and look out over the river, to gauge the sky and take my city’s measure. I did, however, pass an older gentleman who was trudging up the hill with his backpack. He heard me coming and turned around to cheer me on, and on my way back I ran towards him and we were able to give each other a grin. We made it! 4.88 miles in 47:04. Average pace 9:39; fastest mile 9:22; slowest mile 10:09.

Songs I ran to: “Happiness” by Elliott Smith, “Hard Core Troubador” by Steve Earle, “Hard Headed Woman” by Elvis Presley, “Hard to Explain” by The Strokes, “Hard to Handle” by The Black Crowes, “He Wasn’t There” by Lily Allen, “Heads Roll Off” by Frightened Rabbit, “Heads Carolina, Tails California” by Jo Dee Messina, “Heart of Glass” by Blondie, “Heartbreaker” by Pat Benatar, “Henrietta” by The Fratellis, “Here Goes Something” by Nada Surf, “Here’s to the Meantime” by Grace Potter & the Nocturnals, “Hey Driver” by Lucky Boys Confusion, “Hey Julie” by Fountains of Wayne, “Hey There Delilah” by Plain White T’s.

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