The curse of being a klutz with fast reflexes

SO, Good news! I am a 2-wheeled commuter. 

My awesome roommate in Taiwan shared stories of her adventures biking to work in DC and I always envied her paved trails and easy access. GUESS WHAT. Now the world should be envious of me.  But, not really...I'll explain later.

This is what I imagined...

When I moved to DC and started working, it was the first thing I thought of.  AND I was ecstatic to learn I had access to a gym with a lovely locker room so I could pretend that I don't sweat! 

Regrettably, I don't live in the most convenient part of town.  But call it courage or just crazy, I am persistent and decided I would take the 11 different roads and 4 trails that eventually equal 14 miles to get me to work.  Thank goodness for google maps.  BOO FOR TRAFFIC.  For about half the ride I'm on a legit bike trail, so it's heavenly.  But, the other 7 miles ... It's okay, I rode a bike through Bangkok and Cambodia...they barely have roads...I can handle this.

I was biking when I took this picture...(SEE, I'm somewhat coordinated...)
but, these two girls were holding hands, and it was precious!
I <3 Cambodians!!

However, today I almost died.

Let me angle through my brush with death...actually it was a brush with an idiot...they can kill you.
Today, I was within 100 feet of my destination...which meant I had biked basically 14 miles already - safely, also means I had biked somewhere around 70 miles since Monday with no other threats...not even a dog. (I needed a car on wednesday, so i drove, but 3 days out of 4 is a good start!)

However, after riding 14 miles (remember, I wasn't even sweating) and passing through my last intersection using an actual crosswalk that even had a handy countdown which signalled that I had the right of way for another 36 seconds, I kissed the zebra.  Although I still played it safe, when I saw a nice truck signal that he would wait for his turn, I decided I could trust him and clipped in; crucial detail...I have clipless pedals ...logically, this makes no sense because I actually clip my shoes to the pedals...but, whatever...it's like wondering why we call a pen a pen (which I did until 6th grade...and never got it...)...but...the bigger problem is that once clipped in, my feet are secured to the bike, yay when you are pedaling up hill!!!  nay when you crash. WHICH IS WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.  While I swiftly pedal across the crosswalk, another F450 (WHY DO YOU NEED A TRUCK IN ARLINGTON?  YOU. ARE. NOT. A. COWBOY.) BARRELS through.

Um. CUTE!

Good news, I have tiger like reflexes.  Bad news, I am a super big klutz. Put those together, I managed to stop before getting run over, but I didn't unclip and kind of bounced my way to the pavement. I'm sure it would have been hysterical if it didn't hurt so much.  And I could care less about the bruises and scraped knees.  BUT, I somehow managed to bruise my rib - as only a klutz could - and now laughing and basically breathing are completely out of the question.

Not going to lie...I might have sworn...it's a good thing I'm not Muslim...since Ramadan started last night...and I would have broken it day 1. (Did you know that cursing is forbidden especially during Ramadan!)

So, I've learned that I laugh more than I realized throughout the day. That's good. Except now, I don't really want to laugh.  Isn't that Murphy's Law?

Anyways...I suppose I'll have to keep jumping through hoops until all wannabe cowboys finally realize they should just move to Russia. Russians love cowboys.

Hey, Putin! let's be friends...but, I'm kind of a klutz...

One Way

So, last week I took a bus up to NY for a job interview.  I also visited some amazing friends from Ukraine on the side because I have a habit of not doing anything unless I can make it 10x more complicated and fun! (also should include popcorn or chocolate)

Anyways. The interview was great and I would be amiss if I didn't say it was a great opportunity.  ...I'm not going to tell you anything about it…because.  (yes, I have a 4 year old niece and this is usually how I answer all questions…)

After the interview I had a few hours to kill (I'm not sure if I have actually used this phrase, but a Georgian friend reminded me about it...and I'm totally down with murdering time) So, I decided to do what all crazy tourists typically do whilst in NYC for a few days: run in central park. I mean if I was contemplating a move...I should test it out.

It was a little rainy, so the park actually seemed kind of desolate. WHICH IS AMAZING. I mean, hello, I'm in downtown Manhattan in one of the most famous parks in the world and I barely even saw a pigeon. 

So there were other runners...and walkers and bikers. However, they were all going the opposite direction that I was. At first I didn't notice anything…but, then I started to feel like people were uncomfortable as they ran by me…I was pretty sure I was clothed correctly, so what was their problem? And then I had this thought…no one else has been running, walking, driving, or biking this way.  

And then I saw the one way signs.  Aren’t those just for cars?  And don’t runners usually run in the opposite direction of traffic?  I was totally fine.  But, then I started to wonder.

AM I REALLY GOING THE WRONG WAY.

Am I committing a major cultural faux paux in downtown NYC in front of the 7 pigeons I did see and a couple dozen complete strangers and their dogs that I will most likely never run into again?

pigeons in Ukraine - by Masha!!

Perhaps because I was contemplating a major life decision and I wanted direction, I began to feel a little uneasy.

However, I then tried to use some reason (I know, that’s usually a bad idea….)   I was surprised that amidst all the chaos of this great city, there seemed to be order and unity...and I didn't know what to feel...since I was actually breaking it. 

Yet, I've run in at least 15 countries and I have never been told the direction in which to run. (although, in some cases, I would have appreciated it…specifically in Thailand when I could have died like 6 times…trust me, I was safer petting the Tiger than running)

So, then I just got this feeling and thought...I'm in new York.  They can't tell me what to do. I run to free myself and my thoughts. I won’t accept their rules. So what, if it draws attention. My experiences have taught me better than following the crowd and to appreciate differences whether in opinion or direction.

AND that’s how I got my answer.  I was going the wrong way. I was already happy in DC. And despite the opportunity, I did not want to fall into a system of habit and convention, doing things because it’s popular with the masses.  I mean, I haven’t been living that way most of my life…so why start now?

Thus, I'm ready to announce to the world - that I started a job in DC. Perhaps making my conscience cry a little...but, in the end, I have some great running and biking trails that I will never regret!

all around central park is 7.5 miles

I had a beautiful run on a portion
of the Mt. Vernon trail = 15 miles 

I can only run the same 7.5 miles so many times before I get bored...even in Manhattan.

And...then there is the absolutely ridiculous video that reminds me of my grad school roommates - 

I THREW IT ON THE GROUND.

(warning: followers a little less faint of heart...

don't watch...especially past 2 min.)

"I'm an adult...you can't buy me, hot dog man."                                 "Happy Birthday to the ground."

 SHOUTOUT!! (TINA'S GETTING MARRIED!)