When I first started this blog, lo those many years ago (Apartment 2024’s three year anniversary was about a week ago, for those of you keeping track) one of the big things that I wrote about was my journey along the running path. Back then I was hard at work, training for the Broad Street Run. I did the 10 mile run in May 2005 and kept happily running through that summer. Then I sprained my ankle and got seriously derailed. I’ve been a hit-or-miss exerciser ever since.
The entire time I was full-time student, I tried to get myself to the gym regularly, but the unstructured life I was leading made it really hard for me to make time to get on a treadmill or outside. My running shoes were also at the end of their lifespan and so every time I’d work out in them, my feet and body would ache for days, further deterring me.
It might seem counter-intuitive, but now that I’m working a 9 to 5 schedule again, it feels easier to fit exercise in that it did when I had buckets of free time. And yesterday, I took myself over to City Sports to shop for some new sneakers. I flagged a sales guy, told him I was stupid about running shoes and tried on about 12 pairs until I found some that were winners. I went to the gym last night and was shocked at how much easier and less painful it is to run in good shoes.
For the last week, since the new job update I pounded out last Monday night, I’ve been meaning to post. But it hasn’t happened. It’s not for a lack of things to write about but more a feeling of overwhelmedness at suddenly how much there is to write down. It’s like as soon as I take a job and release myself from the bounds of my apartment, I remember what it’s like to live and blog. Here are a couple of recent tidbits…
Friday night, as I was riding elevator back up to my apartment, I got smacked by a wave of scent memory. I was tired from the week and so was a little spacey and receptive to olfactory time travel. The doors opened on the 14th floor and I was suddenly hit with the smell of cooking kasha. The smell of nutty, steamy buckwheat hit my nose and I was a small child, riding the elevator with my grandmother. I remembered the feeling of safety and warmth and I carried that sensual memory for the rest of the evening.
This afternoon, I made the mistake of going to Trader Joe’s in the middle of the Sunday afternoon rush. The lines were halfway down the aisles, so I edited my list down to the basics and headed for the express line. There was a lovely kind of teamwork and cooperation happening, as people tried to keep their places and make room for the others who came after. A woman got in line with her daughter, and I got to chatting with them after briefly holding their place. I recognized the woman from my building and as we talked about Center City living, multiple members of the line joined in. It made the wait far more pleasant, and while I didn’t get my neighbor’s name, I know that we’ll exchange waves and hellos from now on.
And on the cohabitation front: I purchase my first brand-new piece of furniture in order to accommodate Scott’s gigantic television. I must admit, I am enjoying the hugeness of it and finally understand what all the fuss is about HD.