My boyfriend won’t ride the subway anymore. I live in New York City. It’s a problem.
He insists it’s a thoughtful decision on his part, and that it has mainly to do with his unwillingness to feel so vulnerable—why would we voluntarily go down into a dark airless cave? Better yet, why would we pay to?
Be supportive, I tell myself. Sigh. I guess I do live in the infinitely walkable city. And I am a faithful follower of the Walk Out [0]. Shouldn’t I be excited to cover every inch of gridded ground on this island?
Plus, it’s endearing how he tries to get me to come around to his way of thinking. As if in a huddle, he asks me, “What’s our exit strategy!” to which I know to respond with an equally enthusiastic, “Keep it above ground if we want to stick around!” As I repeat the words I can feel them ringing, no, burning in my feet and calves.
Last week I planned an exciting weekend for us, and we had a blast. But I'm still recovering from my toes to my hips.
Day 1: We walked from 86th Street to Washington Square Park, aka 4th Street. That’s 82 blocks, at least. We took a break and haggled prices for digital cameras in the West 40s, before heading to our final destination: Yatagan [1], my favorite $2 falafel on MacDougal Street.
Down the last 10 blocks down 5th Avenue toward the massive stone arch in Washington Square Park he was hurtin’. I was beaming. My legs felt great as I gazed lovingly at my Go Anywhere sneakers [1]. This feeling would not last.
Day 2: Feeling a lot more achey and a bit less ambitious, we decided to ride the electric beast waaay downtown to Fulton Street. Our destination: The Bodies Exhibit [2] at South Street Seaport [3].
True that we did not work our bodies on Day 2 as nature perhaps intended us to. Also true that we felt infinitely more intimate with our own muscles after leaving Bodies. But there was one thing the exhibit couldn’t show us, and that was the physical limit of the human body. We had in fact, learned that the hard way the day before. But it didn’t kill us. Nope. It actually made us stronger—pun intended.
Annie Costner [3]
New York, NY