C'est le printemps!

It is a wonderfully sunny, beautiful day in New York today, and I'm tempted to say that, perhaps, spring is here! I've been tricked into thinking this before. Back in March, there was one Sunday that the mercury crept past 20 degrees Celsius, and we dusted off our bikes for a quick spin in the park. (It turned out to be a day filled with mishaps galore -- I missed Bono, apparently, as I went past him on my rocket red Giant entering the park at West 77th Street, which is probably the biggest disappointment I've had in a long time; I also got pushed in the chest as I tried to weave past an angry Frenchman who refused to "pardon moi.") Since then, we haven't been back on our bikes. It's remained chilly enough that fall/winter cycling attire would be required, and I own none of these things, having spent a small fortune last summer outfitting myself in warm weather cycling clothing. Truthfully, I don't mind too much, because my running suffers with every degree increase in temperature, and, this being the East coast, every percentage increase in humidity. For now, the cool temperatures have been most conducive to successful running, but I can't help but feel excited when I can eat my lunch in the park as I did today.

Unlike where I grew up, New York really has four distinct seasons. By a long shot, the spring and fall are the best. The summers are oppressively hot and sticky and I can think of few things worse than my swollen feet, cut up in every possible dimension from the various sandals I own, standing on the steaming hot subway platform, where I'm inhaling dust and grime and smoke while waiting for a train that will most certainly be filled with too many sweaty bodies wearing too little clothing, all packed tightly against one another. Winter can be nice, but it tends to just be cold without much fresh snow to enjoy. When it does snow, it's usually a few hours of pristine loveliness immediately followed by days of slushy mess, making my morning and afternoon treks through Times Square a bit of a landmine in terms of icy puddle jumping. But the fall and the spring are terrific. For one thing, there actually is a fall here. It brings with it slightly cooler temperatures but a long-awaited drop in the humidity, and the leaves remain on the trees long enough to reveal their true colors. The spring, in which I dare say we currently are, teases us with earlier sunrises and later sunsets, cooler nights but warmer days, and a splendor of buds, flowers, and beauty. The cherry blossoms, magnolias, daffodils, and tulips have made running in the Park lately something of a dream.

I'm known to complain about New York from time to time. It's too busy, too crowded, too expensive. The airports are a nightmare, the roads are clogged, and sometimes it's easy to feel trapped on this island. I don't anticipate I'll live here forever. At some point, wide(r) open spaces, or, at the very least, a washer/dryer, will beckon. But on days like today, it's a treat to be in the City. Tomorrow I have my longest training run yet -- 23 miles. I plan to run three full loops of the Park, plus the middle four mile loop, which, from my home and back, should add up to 23.221 miles (to be exact). It would be an all the more daunting proposition if I were facing grey skies or strong winds. But tomorrow, my forecast looks like this:
So as long as I can enjoy the cooler hours of the early morning, it should be a very good day indeed. I'm already looking forward to the pancakes I've been promised for brunch!