Day 13: I Discovered a Day-Trip Hike in New York

I've been longing to do this since I came to New York! Before I moved here, I lived in a rural area that abounded in natural beauty, and as I drove to and fro, I caught glimpses of scenery through my windshield — of shrimp boats resting in glassy bayous, their nets catching the falling sunlight, or of goldenrod and saw palmettos crowding around pools and arching underneath cypress trees. Despite the beauty of the scenery, however, I felt disconnected from nature because it was difficult to find places where I could hike, swim, or explore on my own. When I moved to New York, I was excited at the possibility of taking the commuter rail to various trailheads and parks outside the city. 

There was a rumor about that a couple of friends would be interested in doing just that on Saturday. As the day approached, I began to feel a familiar sense of anxiety that no plans had been made. Would the rumor remain a rumor? Would we hold off on making the plans until after we had already slept in on Saturday morning, thus rendering our trip an impossibility? As I finished my work on Thursday, I made a mental note to address this lapse AS SOON AS I returned home. Then I remembered my epiphany from Day 5: "My compulsion to be busy adds tension to my life and my relationships," and I decided to take that prescribed chill pill, and trust that the trip would happen.

As it happened, the trip didn't quite happen. A couple of friends decided that the hike would make it difficult for them to get to a family party later in the evening, and my best friend and I, worn out by the karaoke marathon of the previous night, had decided to leave the planning for the morning. When we woke up on Saturday, she was worried about her work schedule and needed to check her email and make plans for the coming week. I sat down to research commuter rail day trips, discovered how long the trips would be, and calculated how much time we would need to pack lunches, get dressed, and copy down directions and maps. We were a bit of a cyclone of anxiety and nail-biting. 

Finally, as if an angel had trumpeted the idea into my ear directly from heaven, I remembered a park in the Bronx, an easy subway ride away, that was bigger and more wild than Central Park, which I had not yet explored. Suddenly buoyed by this discovery, we finished our breakfast and chores; we picked out scarves and sweaters with relish; filled up our travel mugs and set off for Bronx.

What a beautiful, delightful, peaceful hike we had! We discovered rose-red mitten leaves fallen on the trail; paused to look at a pond through the trees; saw the sunlight cascade over a bank of smart weed, and posed for a bajillion pictures in our stylish autumn scarves. We walked clear across the park and came out dangerously close to the neighborhood where I'd had the hurling coaching course the week before, so I lured my friend to the Irish grocery store where we stocked up on sweets, crisps, and fresh-baked bread. 

HOW I LEFT MY COMFORT ZONE:

I had been really looking forward to this hike, so I struggled not to feel anxious about its happening. It would have been easy to let that anxiety cascade into grumpiness and resentment (which, I won't lie, I've done before). And in a lot of ways, this required being considerate. Several of my friends needed to take the time to be with their families instead of going on the hike. And since my friend was feeling worried about getting organized for her upcoming work week, I wanted to find a way to have an adventure that help her to feel refreshed and ready for the week, not a lengthy trip that would take away from her ability to do that. It's not so much that I went outside my comfort zone, but that I had to go outside my own desires and plans in order to invite and honor others. 

WHAT I LEARNED:

Sometimes you've got to plan ahead. My sort-of anxiety about making plans has been a major theme for me this year, and caused conflict in my relationship. I've noticed that I tend to get nervous when the weekend approaches and I haven't done sufficient research on all of the possibilities. I suppose I also consider my expensive New York rent to include a premium for the opportunities that living in New York allows. I'm not just paying for a place to lay my head and nearly-unlimited hot water, but also for access to museums, parks, Malaysian restaurants, and drum circles in Union Square. I feel a compulsion to get my money's worth by going for walks, trying out new food trucks, and generally staying busy.

Last week I learned that I need to relax and need to enjoy down time. I decided that I could put that lesson into action by not hurrying into plans for the hike. However, I learned this weekend that, sometimes, things don't get done if no one plans ahead. I enjoy adventure; I enjoy researching possibilities, figuring out the best route, and exploring every option. Planning ahead can be a gift; it can be the impetus that gets the group of friends together and lays the foundation for a good time. But a good time starts with an invitation, and the best invitation is one of joy, not one of anxiety. I need to acknowledge my gift for making plans and use it in a way that serves my relationships instead of taking away from them.

Day 11: I Walked Across the George Washington Bridge

 Oh, it dawned a beautiful morning. I woke up to the delightful surprise that my building's super had chosen this day to turn the heat on, and the sun was shining clear beams along our street. The cozy, peaceful feeling stayed with me as I bundled into a thermal shirt and chunky sweater for this morning's challenge: a bright and early walk across the George Washington Bridge.

I have been looking forward to walking across the bridge, but I knew it would be a different experience from walking across the Golden Gate Bridge or the Brooklyn Bridge. There's no manicured garden at the lead up; no wooden promenade crowded with pedestrians. No crowds are waiting to rent bicycles; no one is fingering a ring in his pocket or getting down on one knee in the center.  This is a business bridge. 

Unfortunately, sometimes that's the business of dying. I have a friend who has always hated this bridge; a teacher at her high school in Brooklyn jumped from the bridge while she was a student. It wasn't until she found a job in Northern Manhattan that the bridge was a landmark in every day life, no longer looming as a reminder of death. I remembered her teacher this morning, as well as Tyler Clementi, who committed suicide the same fall that I moved to New York. So while I set off on my challenge this morning, I wasn't just thinking of my own journey between New York and New Jersey but of the others who have been drawn to the bridge for far more difficult journeys.

The sun was bright as I stepped onto the walkway, burning golden outlines around passersby and pilings. It speckled the apartment buildings below me and sprayed across the tops of trees. To the north, the Palisades faded into the water. Headlights twinkled from the Henry Hudson Parkway through a break in the trees. To the south, trucks passed by, carrying milk, produce, or machinery into Manhattan. The smog from their tails floated around us, making my head hurt, and clinging to the skyline.

Just before the first tower, I stopped and looked at the rocks below. I held my camera and took some shots of the logs lying against the rocks and a little island that stood in the breakers. I stepped out from behind a pole and back onto the walkway and saw a security guard walking towards me, ashen and with purpose. Then he looked relieved and said, "I didn't see the camera in your hand. When you stopped there I was scared. We have a lot of suicides here. I was scared."

HOW I LEFT MY COMFORT ZONE:
This challenge felt like a physical feat. It was cold and windy, and the smog from the passing traffic almost made me turn around.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY:
The line that separates us life from death and us from one another is thin. When the security guard told me he was scared for my safety, the thought crossed my mind - but, surely he doesn't think I look like I would kill myself. Of course, I realized, anyone could look like that.

Anyone could be, at any moment, the person in danger or in need. And that person could easily be me. I know I have struggled and suffered, been burdened with sadness. My life, for all its tremendous blessings, has had low moments and dark nights. But I'm still here, still living. What makes me different from those who couldn't go on? Am I braver, or stronger, or smarter, or wiser? I don't think that I am. I feel the grip of providence and grace. And I want that grace for the others, too.

When I started this project, I considered asking my readers to contribute to a relavant cause or charity each day, and then I decided I didn't want to do even that. I wanted to let the blog be just for your enjoyment, no strings attached. (I hope it's that!) But today I decided to make an exception. If you'd like, find out how you can help to prevent suicide.

Day 6: I Became the World's Most Unlikely Hurling Coach

Wow, today was quite a day. I'm the good kind of tired and my head is still spinning. On the spur of the moment, I attended a training course for coaches of hurling and camogie,* national sports of Ireland.  I have now completed my foundational level of certification for official Gaelic Athletic Association coaches. Believe me, I'm laughing good-naturedly at this. Attending this course was definitely a stretch (to say the least!) as I'm not particularly athletic and have only been playing camogie for a few months. But it gave me the chance to examine my relationship to organized sports and my place in the Irish diaspora.

The day began with registration at an Irish bar outside the city - at 9:30 AM. As I rode out of my neighborhood, with its fruit stalls, bachata music, and Dominican hair salons opening up for early morning clients, I felt a sense of flux. My feet were in two worlds, between my neighborhood's Irish past and Latino present; my family's Celtic heritage and the Latino community I've worked hard to learn about and serve through my career. My feelings of displacement continued when I arrived at the bar: I was the only woman there and the only American (besides some American born sons of Irish coaches). As I waited for the course to begin, I felt the unsettling feeling of not getting the jokes, or getting them a beat too late. I felt ridiculous, out of place, like an impostor.

As the course began, though, I felt my anxieties melt away, and I became caught up in the sessions. Our tutor, who had flown in from Galway especially for our course, emphasized the Gaelic Athletic Association's philosophy of keeping players involved, focusing on fun, and tailoring training to the players' motor, intellectual, and social development. I found that my background in training volunteers had natural parallels to coaching. And when I mock-coached a module on jab lifts, the much more experienced hurlers in the group listened patiently, encouragingly, and sincerely. 

HOW I LEFT MY COMFORT ZONE:

I felt like an outsider and an impostor, neither sufficiently Irish nor sufficiently athletic to be a camogie coach. I hope that my participation today will allow me to help my club to recruit more women for our camogie team; while I learned a lot, I still have a lot to learn and a lot of improving to do.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY:

To get and keep people involved, make things fun and engaging. Gaelic games (Gaelic football, hurling, camogie, and handball) are heritage sports in Ireland that are up against competition from glamorous soccer and rugby; in America, they compete with those sports as well as football, basketball, lacrosse, and others. Promoting Gaelic games means fostering an environment in which everyone who wants to play has a chance to participate and contribute, and all enjoy their time on the pitch. And that foundation is necessary in order to build higher levels of play and exciting All-Ireland Finals that the whole country (and diaspora) want to watch. This has obvious parallels for my work recruiting, training, and supporting volunteers.

*(If you've not seen hurling or camogie played before, now's your chance! )

Day 5: I Did Nothing, and I Liked It.

Today I woke up feeling like I needed to use my self-care exception, surprisingly. I had the day off so I ran a few errands, talked to my mom, and took a three hour nap. When I woke up I was feeling fresh and ready to go to the gym (success!) and do some cleaning. Throughout the rest of my day, I had to resist the ideas that kept popping into my head: Maybe I'll see if my roommates want to go the bar! Maybe I'll go shopping for a new pair of yoga pants! Instead, I'm going to enjoy doing NOTHING.

HOW I LEFT MY COMFORT ZONE:
I thought today would be a day off from the Exercises, but I'm realizing that doing nothing is truly hard for me. I struggle to believe that a day off is not wasted if I've spent it in my apartment or in my neighborhood. I struggle to believe that a nap isn't wasted sunshine. And it took real effort to resist the urge to fill up my evening with plans and excursions.

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY:
I need to take a chill pill. I've liked to be active and to explore since I was a kid, and I'm proud of the adventurous, curious heart that I've cultivated. I moved to New York because of this spirit; now that I'm here I treat my weekends as never-to-be repeated opportunities for discovery.  But my compulsion to be busy adds tension to my life and to my relationships.

Day 4: I Rode My Bicycle and I Did Not Die

I begin an attempt to carry my bike down the stairs.

Longtime readers of my photography blog will know that I am abjectly terrified of my bicycle, or rather, of riding it. I grew up in nice little suburb that undertook a massive bicycle lane improvement project when I was in high school. So, by the time I was ready to graduate from riding my bike in endless loops around my subdivision to riding it to a summer job, I could travel the entire journey in a wide, well-marked bike lane. 

Now that I live in New York, though, I never, ever ride my bike in traffic. This is a totally inhospitable environment! I'd be crazy to want to wrangle my bike through these streets. Basically, its existence consists of having its tired pumped up, being escorted down several blocks of sidewalk and over a footbridge to a dedicated bicycle path, going for a twenty minute ride when it finally feels the wind through its spokes and on the little waving fronds of rubber that have still not worn off the tires, and returning to the hallway of my apartment, where its tires promptly deflate and it lies dormant for another four to six months.

A car drives over the ostensible bike lane. This is what I'm talking about.

This began to strike me as ridiculous. It's not like me to be dissuaded by fear; I think the proper amount of caution allows me to be safely adventurous. My inability to climb up a sheer face of ice was not really a damper on my everyday life but I decided to traverse a glacier in Iceland anyway; my refusal to ride my bike is, in fact, inhibiting me. It's silly to let this fear go on any longer. 

I'm going to get on it! I'm going to ride it! 

So I chose this morning for my ride, knowing that the time of day would provide the right number of challenges on my block. The produce truck would be unloading at the 24-hour mini mart downstairs, and a few taxi drivers would be waiting at the stand, but the traffic wouldn't yet be bad. I plotted my route so that I'd have only right turns and I'd avoid the steep inclines closer to the river. I pumped up both tires, grabbed my helmet, and wrestled my bike down the staircase. At the bottom I noticed my yoga pants were smeared with bicycle grease and a thick layer of dust.

And then I was off! Things were terribly awkward and wobbly for the first stretch, but I got into my groove a few pedals in. Although my plan was to go only once around the block, I went twice! And I liked it!

The fearless adventurer returns home.

HOW I LEFT MY COMFORT ZONE:

Um, I risked my life. 

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY:

I am invincible!

I realised that I can't wait around until conditions are perfectly right before undertaking a project, task, or challenge.  They never will be. The road will never be completely free of cars, garbage trucks, and potholes, but I don't have to wait until then to ride my bike.