Tag: New York City

Practice

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Last night,  my sister and I performed at an open mic at Caffe Vivaldi in the West Village. This was the first time we sang in public together since around February. After months of sporadic rehearsals, we finally chose a time and place. At first, I was pretty confident since we had just practiced the night before and sounded on point. Of course,  it’s always the last few minutes prior to the actual performance that really shakes my nerves.

Open Mic Night @ Caffe Vivaldi (July 22, 2013)
Open Mic Night @ Caffe Vivaldi (July 22, 2013)

Once we got on stage, I could feel my voice starting to tremble. We made it through the first song with hardly any flaws, but I became gradually more nervous as I  looked around at the audience.

The second song was our downfall, which didn’t make sense because it was a song that we had performed together a handful of times before in the winter

After our set was done, I kept re-playing the second song in my head, nit-picking every mistake that I knew I had made. At that point, there was nothing I could really do except tell myself that it was already over and we just have to practice more for next time.

Singing isn’t a priority for me. If anything, it’s basically at the bottom of my to-do list. It’s just something I do for fun to take my mind off of the more important things in my life.

After hearing the other performers play and sing their original songs, I was envious of just how good they were. Then I thought, “These people probably spend hours upon hours constantly writing music, practicing, and playing open mics on a weekly or probably daily basis”

My friend, who came to watch and support my sister and I, said to me “You know, for a while Amy [a mutual friend] used to come here every single Monday night just get practice performing on stage”

I thought to myself, “Well I don’t really have time for that”

Then I realized, it’s really just a matter of making time for it.

I do love music and singing, but there are also things that I care about much more (and here is where I start talking about running again)

I know that if I spent half as much time practicing making music as I do running and exercising, then I could be as good as the other performers who played at the open mic last night.

I’m currently not training for a specific race at the moment, so I decided that I’m going to try distributing my time into other areas of my life (singing and writing) and see just how far I can go with it. I’ll continue to run and go to the gym of course, but I want to become better at other things as well. After all, that’s how you grow.

Every second, every minute, every hour

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It only seems appropriate to write about the inexplicable mystery that is “time” on the longest day of the calendar year.

The first day of Summer.

I’ve most likely already made some sort of reference as to how much I’ve realized just how precious every second of every minute of every hour is ever since I’ve moved into New York City.

Maybe it’s just more noticeable in New York City because our entire days are based off of a schedule that we cannot control; the bus, the subway, the train…public transportation in general. If you’re even a second late walking through that turnstile in the subway, you could miss your train to work, or to a friend’s house, or going back home. That very instance could drastically change the entire course of your day.

It’s impossible to trace back to the very moment that could have made everything different though. Instead, it’s a compilation of the tiny moments and milliseconds that we were early or late.

We’re always in a rush in New York City.

Everyone always has somewhere to be and other people are just an obstacle standing our way.

But the thing that really gets to me is the interactions that we have (or don’t have) with the people around us.

Call me an ooey-gooey romantic, but I always have that ongoing fantasy of bumping into the love of my life at a coffee shop or on the subway in passing or in Central Park.

For the millions of people who live here, it’s really difficult to take the time to get to know someone that way. That’s definitely something that I’ve been adjusting to over the course of time that I’ve been here.

My inspiration for this blog entry comes from the people whom I have met since I’ve moved here, but have completely vanished only a few months or weeks later after meeting them.

New York City is all about speed. Instant results. Everything has to happen fast because we can’t waste a minute of our time. I’ve learned this due to the short-lived collapsed relationships that I’ve had.

I’ve also learned that jumping too quick into anything never yields long-lasting results.

It’s true that every second of every minute of every hour counts. Making it last, however, now that’s a whole different story.

On this long, long first day of Summer, I wonder where I’ll end up or meet.

Going out without going all out

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I did it.

I survived my first week of April without consuming a drop of alcohol.

To preface this entry to those who are new to reading my blog, I am NOT an alcoholic. I repeat, I am NOT an alcoholic.

To get some of you up to speed, I recently hit my point of absolute misery when it came to drinking with friends on the weekends. Going out until 3AM in New York City while you are in training mode for a Half-Marathon and Marathon do not mesh well at all. I learned this the hard way, therefore recently vowed to give up drinking any type of alcohol for the entire month of April in lieu of my Spring races

I must say, it’s actually a lot easier than I thought it would be. However, here are the down sides:

  • Going out to a club and/or bar in New York City while you are sober and everyone else around you is intoxicated is pretty weird. You notice how stupid everyone actually looks as opposed to everything being funny. It’s definitely not as funny when you’re sober…
  • Regardless of whether you drink or not, certain places still require a cover charge to get in. So even though you’re not buying drinks, you still have to pay to go to a place that is dimly lit with random spurts of blinding strobe lights and ear deafening music blasting , all while watching people act like morons
  • If you’re tired and not having fun, it’s better to just go home instead of being out and forcing yourself to stay awake when you don’t need to be

Regardless, I felt really good about myself at the fact that I didn’t succumb to peer pressure.

On a more positive note, here are the up sides to not drinking

  • You really do spend less money when you don’t have to buy alcohol
  • You wake up in the morning remembering EVERYTHING
  • You save yourself empty calories and extra pounds
  • You’re not extremely susceptible to getting sick

There are definitely more up sides than that, but I chose to shed light on the obvious ones.

I had a great weekend despite my lack of alcohol consumption which ultimately proves that you don’t need to drink to have a good time.

I was able to get a (slightly) long run on Saturday afternoon in long-awaited, beautiful Spring-ish weather. I only was able to get in 10 miles in 1 hour and 27 minutes, but it still felt great.

I went back home to New Jersey for the second weekend in a row. I got to hang out with friends from home and spend time with family for my Mom’s birthday, which is always a good time in my book.

Moral of the story: Drinking is not all it’s cracked up to be. If anything, it’s less.

Burned Bridges

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There’s something about moving to a new city that makes life so much more exciting. You get to experience a new environment. You gain opportunities to meet new people. When you leave everyone who knew you behind, you get to be anybody you want to be; far from who you were when you were home. You get to re-write yourself.

I’m back home in New Jersey for Easter weekend and as much as I hate to admit it, I can’t deny the fact that it feels great to be back here. There’s a level of comfort that you can only get when you’re at home. It’s that sense of familiarity that consumes us. It’s the feeling we get around the people who watched us grow up before we became who we are. That’s what I like at least.

Every time I come home, I can always expect the same thing because it’s the same thing every time I come home. Nothing here has changed and I think that’s why I left. Everything was always the same. I got too comfortable.

Whenever I come back, I think a lot about people from my past. I do this on my own anyways, even when I’m at my apartment in the city, but it happens more so when I’m back in Edison. It’s because of that familiarity. The roads that I used to drive on, the school that I went to, the park where I used to play. All of these places are linked to memories and people who once meant a great deal to me at one point in my life. I always get sad looking back on it because as I got older, I learned that it’s so easy to lose people. We grow up. We change. We go different paths. There’s a part of me, though, that really misses those people. This can be said for all people at the different points in my life, the ones who have been long gone and the ones who I’ve recently lost. They’ve all made me who I am today. I thank them for that.

It’s hard for me, sometimes, to accept the fact that you can’t just pop into someone’s life un-announced anymore. I get such an urge to contact people who I haven’t spoken to in months or years. Every time this happens, a rush of spontaneity overcomes me and I start this text that I end up never sending because I suddenly realize, we don’t even know each other anymore.

There’s an episode of “How I Met Your Mother” which coins the term, “revertigo” which is when you go back to being the person you were around someone who you used to know from your past. The reason for this is because you can’t really go off anything else. When you get to a certain point where catching up hardly seems possible anymore, you can only draw on shared past memories. There are a lot of people in my life who I could go without seeing for months, but once we reunite, it’s like we had never been apart for a day. But then, there’s people who I just have nothing in common with anymore. There’s nothing to say, only old jokes to stir up some laughter for a brief moment. These are the people I lose.

I’ve recently started noticing that every time I come home now, there are less and less people that I have an urge to contact. I can’t tell if it’s me, or us, or life. But I always ask myself, “At what point, do you just give up on someone?”

All relationships are hard work, whether it be a friendship or a romance. Someone has to care though. It has to work both ways. So what I wonder is this:

Do you stop trying once you’re the only one who is?

I’ve gotten to many points lately where I’ve realized that it’s just me on my own. Now that I’ve come back home and I can’t think of a soul to tell that I’m here, I wonder, am I done losing everyone from back home? Have I strayed that far since I moved to New York?

My pride gets to me sometimes. I think, well if they’re not contacting me, then I certainly shouldn’t contact them.

That’s how you burn bridges.

I feel that I’ve burned a lot of mine and when I go back to the island of Manhattan, there will be no way for my friends to get to me anymore.

The Importance of Rest and Vitamin C

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I never fully understood how significant it was to take a breather every once in a while. I was always a fan of pushing through pain whenever I felt tired or weak. My thoughts towards the whole, “Can’t stop, Won’t stop” mentality were that it would pay off it in the long run because it would make me a stronger athlete; a stronger person.

My findings?

Absolutely false.

Rest is 100% detrimental towards your mental and physical health. In fact, not resting is actually counterproductive and can only harm you more in the long run. Pushing through pain does, in fact, make you stronger, but not in all cases. Sometimes, it just leaves you with injury, re-occurring sickness, and just more pain in general. I began realizing the importance of rest and Vitamin C once I moved into New York City.

Growing up, I had a fairly strong immune system. I would rebel against my Mother’s advice to not go outside with wet hair, to always wear a hood when it’s windy, bundle up when it’s cold, etc. Back then, I would never have to deal with the consequences. Unfortunately, as you get older, it takes a lot more effort to keep your body in tip-top shape. The rebellious acts that I would perform as a child don’t quite work in my favor now that I live in a germ-invested city where only about 1 out of 10 people wash their hands after using the restroom and no one around you covers their mouth when they cough. This makes people, who live in a large city such as New York, very susceptible to catching the common cold- And the rapidness in which you can get sick is astonishing.

This past winter, up until today, I have been sick approximately 6 or 7 times since December 1st, when I first moved to New York. My body hasn’t adjusted well to the drastic changes in temperature along with a combination of a lack of proper nutrients, surrounding germs that make their homes in the city subways, training for a marathon, and an improper sleep schedule. In addition, my inner child would overcome me and I would rebel against layering up during my long runs in Central Park when high winds were blowing in my direction.

Ultimately, my poor judgement and overall lack of common sense led me to getting sick about every 2 or 3 weeks. It’s just awful.

Like an open wound, your body needs to heal itself. It takes a lot of time and patience, but jumping back on the horse before you are ready puts you at great risk of falling right off again.

My advice to myself and any one who is reading this:

When you are in pain, feeling weak, or feeling sick, just TAKE A DAY OFF

Allow your body to heal itself, and you will feel ten times better during your workout and throughout the entire day.

Saying goodbye to alcohol

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As you may have already noticed (if you read multiple blog entries of mine), there are two things that I often write about which generally go hand in hand for me. These two things are:

  1. My love for running
  2. My love for food

Which do I love more? I couldn’t tell you. Let’s just say that when it comes to these things, I like to have my cake and eat it too (both figuratively and literally speaking)

I fight an endless battle between how much I eat and in turn, how much I then have to run or exercise to compensate for my overindulgence.

If you refer back to two of my past blog entries titled, “A pie of pizza and 10 miles to go” and “A sleeve of thin mints and 13 miles of satisfaction” you may see a pattern when it comes to my eating and exercising habits.

Disclaimer: I do not have an eating and/or mental disorder.

We’re all human and we all get those pesky cravings for a certain not-so-healthy food from time to time; some, more than others. Naturally, we sometimes slip and give into temptation and go for that extra-gooey chocolate cake that we see in the bakery window. It just calls out our name.

Personally, when it calls out my name, I come running with open arms. You could even say sprinting.

Nonetheless, I consciously make note that I have to burn off those calories right away

The weird thing is, you’d think that a person who is as into fitness and running as I am would have a strict diet to match.

That is ABSOLUTELY not the case. And I’m not just saying for me. I’m saying this on behalf of a majority of runners and fitness-enthusiasts who I know personally.

You wouldn’t think that a person of my size could take down an entire pie of pizza by herself in just one sitting, but you better believe it. I have quite the appetite. May I add, I stand at a mere 5’0 feet tall, weighing in at 108 pounds. It’s quite a remarkable feat for someone so tiny

Now, the reason why I am blogging today about this particular topic is because of a different type of over-indulgence which seems to also be common amongst runners and fitness-enthusiasts.

What is that, you might ask?

Alcohol.

Have you ever noticed how much beer is served after an event like a marathon, half-marathon, mud run, heck, even a 5K?

Beer is the perfect carb to refuel with after burning hundreds of calories from running a race.

For some people, the post-race beer may be their favorite part.

But here’s the catch:

Often times, we often overestimate how many calories we actually burned and tend to overindulge in food as well as alcohol. We feel like we owe it to ourselves, to our bodies, after putting it through such hard work.

That’s a big no-no.

So, last night, I had a few more beers than I would have liked to consume. To give you an exact number: It’s 4. And that’s 4 more than I should have had because I’m telling you, I felt awful afterwards.

If you have not already noticed, I am currently training for two races at the end of April; The CGI Unite Half-Marathon at Rutgers followed by the Big Sur International Marathon exactly one week later.

As I get deeper into my training, I’ve really tried to limit the amount of alcohol that I consume. Of course, it’s a bit difficult when you’re in your 20’s, live in New York City, and have friends that always want to drink on the weekends.

Last night, I hit my limit.

This morning, I went straight to the gym before work and ran a quick 4 miles on the treadmill due to the guilt that was overcoming me after those 4 beers. During that run, I made a pact with myself. Once April 1st hits, I am abstaining from consuming any alcoholic beverages until after the Big Sur Marathon is completed. This won’t be easy, but I know that it will pay off in the end.

In closing: A while back, I was deeply impacted by an article published in Women’s Health which hit pretty close to home for me (click the below link if you are interested in reading)

Exercise and Alcohol

To summarize the article, it discussed the irony of how runners and fitness junkies also tend to be the heaviest drinkers.

Moral of the story: When a craving calls, sometimes it’s better to not pick up the phone.

Queen of carbs

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It’s 8AM and I’m making pasta again (for lunch that is). What else is new? As you become more familiar with my blog and my writing style, you’ll begin to notice that my most impulsive moments to write is when I’m cooking or eating. Aside from running and writing, the other big love in my life is food.

A lot of people have their own personal reasons for exercise. Some people do it to increase their quality of life, some people do it to lose or maintain weight, and some people do it purely because they love it.

For me, I run because of all of those things. But my most important reason: I LOVE TO EAT.

Living in New York City in your young-twenties is very overwhelming. There are millions of people to meet, places to go, and things to eat. The options are endless.

Of course, living in New York City also comes with a big price tag.

I wouldn’t say I’m struggling, but I’m definitely on a pretty slim budget. I enjoy going out with friends, but the costs add up.

From the time I’ve been here since December 1st, the one thing that struck me the most was how hard my bank account was hit…by food. A girl’s gotta eat, right?

And on the off chance that I actually go grocery shopping instead of going out to a restaurant, I usually stick to the staples: Pasta, oatmeal, granola bars, bread, etc. Or in broader terms, carbs, carbs, and more carbs.

It’s not shocking that I eat a lot pasta. I’m a runner. Carbs are my friend. Carbs are also my enemy.

I read numerous articles on what a runner’s diet should be. Really, the key is to have everything in moderation. As usual, this applies to most areas in life.

The thing is, after you exercise or go for a nice long run, you give yourself this permission to eat pretty much whatever you want. May I repeat, everything in moderation though.

So what I’m trying to say is that when it comes to eating, you just have to be realistic. Do you need that extra brownie? Should you really eat an entire box of pizza? Think about it. You may have burned away 700 or some-odd calories, but what is a plate of cheese fries going to do to refuel you?

This is something I need to work on for myself. It’ll probably come to me again during my pasta time (which is my favorite time)

1AM is pasta time

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If you haven’t already read my short and sweet introduction yet, I’d like to debrief you on how I stumbled upon deciding to create a WordPress account.

I’ve always been drawn to writing as a form of expression. The only person I’ve ever really wanted to share anything with whenever I was frustrated, or upset, or angry, or even happy has always been my sister. However, on the off chance that I don’t want to share my feelings with her, I’ve always turned to writing because I strongly value my alone time and I prefer to be by myself, with my own thoughts. Perhaps that’s a dangerous thing, but it has always worked for me in the past.

This manifested into another form of expression which has become extremely significant to me: Running.

As a long-distance runner, I get the self-satisfaction of taking all of the irrational, lingering thoughts that are in my head and just letting them dissipate because sometimes, being too much in your head is not a good thing. These thoughts have to be released somehow. For me, that would either have to be on paper or distance through miles. Either way, I am somehow able to calm myself down.

The catalyst that sparked this random inspiration to publicize my thoughts tonight came from one simple act of cooking pasta to bring for lunch tomorrow at work.

I was standing in front of my stove, stirring my boiling pot of whole wheat pasta when one simple thought came to my mind; This is my life.

I live in New York City. I am a college graduate. I am independent from my parents. I have a job at an amazing Publishing Company which houses a magazine title that I idolized as a high school runner.

What am I missing?

This is the question that I’ve been asking myself for my entire life.

I can safely say that I haven’t had a rough childhood in the slightest. I was blessed with a great family; two loving, supportive parents and a sister who happens to be my best friend. I received a great education throughout my entire youth. I have great friends.

What am I missing?

Living in a city of insurmountable opportunity, filled with millions of people, how could anyone possibly feel certainly alone?

Life here moves so fast and it’s a type of life that I have pictured myself living, but now that I’m in it, I almost don’t know how to live it.

I run, I write, what more is there for me?

I know I just got here, but I feel like there’s so much more waiting for me.

1AM is pasta time. 1AM is also inspiration time, apparently.