Motivated by the mounds of food I know I’ll be sinking my teeth into later, and also an episode of the Biggest Loser on television last night (don’t hate on mass media motivation) I set out on a run over the Pulaski Bridge this morning.
Like my roommates—one gone to Chicago and the other New Jersey—I too am traveling to family for Thanksgiving, so I planned ahead to get a workout in, early. I set out at 9am, and found Nassau St, Greenpoint Ave, and the bridge completely deserted. It was unexpected and glorious moment. I give thanks because heading over the Bridge in the morning is usually like trying to push your way to the front stage of a concert,
pushing people to the right and to the left, and constantly looking back to make sure no one is pissed off.
This morning? I didn’t look behind me once to see if a biker was about to mow me down. A large boat happened to be passing through just when I hit the mid-point and the bridge opened up to let it pass. This also brought on my first contact with another bridge-runner. “Wanna head to McCarren instead?” he asked me, as if we were running pals from the get-go. “No thanks,” I said. Maybe this was a Thanksgiving spirit outreach? I had to decline; there’s no way that wouldn’t have been awkward.
After five minutes, the boat passed, the bridge closed up, and I headed to the other side and back, sans lone running buddy. On my return over the walkway a few more people passed by, all dragging wheeled suitcases. Guess you can’t load those onto a bicycle, can you.
I finished up with this 4.6 mile loop, and am prepping for a major stuffing fest. Doubt the Brooklyn roads will stay empty when I would also give thanks—the holiday drive home.