New York City was my first marathon. I finished in 3 hours and 38 minutes. I was happy with that time, a good first outing for a middle-aged runner. Sure I’d gotten crampy and slow coming up 5th Avenue near the park; and sure I’d puked at the finish and had to visit the medical…

Years ago, to celebrate an anniversary, Jennifer and I spent a night or two in Saratoga Springs. I’d spent time there in college and loved it, and thought its leafy streets and big houses would be a nice relief from the city in summer. I thought of Saratoga Springs mostly as an arts town, what…

Running exposes your body in a way that can make you feel very vulnerable. You’re out on the side of a road, barely covered by a few scraps of fabric. You are bared to the elements, the judgments of your solitary mind, the gaze of others. If you’re not running comfortably, you can feel disjointed…

The wind started in earnest around dawn yesterday and hasn’t let up for a minute. In the beginning it was warm, but it was icy by nightfall. It brought us snow squalls and rolled full garbage bags across streets. It sent sheets of  plywood wheeling through the air like playing cards flicked from a magician’s…

I never learned how to be a stranger somewhere, never learned how to be a tourist. My family was obsessed with being where we belonged, so we never went anywhere we didn’t have a familial claim to. I hadn’t noticed this shortcoming in me until I first went abroad—which I didn’t do until after college,…

I love to run. This fact surprises me so much that it took me years even to acknowledge it. For a long time, I made up justifications for doing it, claimed that my runs were serving some higher purpose. My mental health depended on it, or I’d committed to race for a charity and had…