The Seven Mile Itch

Very few things in life prompt me to walk 7 miles. I’d walk 7 miles to win a bet. I’d walk 7 miles to make out with Ryan Gosling (approved by Chris). I’d walk 7 miles to see Robin (at least!) but I never thought I’d walk 7 miles just for the opportunity to look up in New York.

Until last August.

I’m convinced that the only time anyone looks up in New York is upon their first visit to Times Square. If you’ve never been, picture Disneyworld. If you’ve never been there, picture Six Flags. If you’ve never been to either, you should get out more. So picture that, add more Broadway show t-shirts, less sidewalk, more expressions of confusion, and more groups of people standing in a bad place to stand, looking up.

I am irked by slow-moving, gawking crowds more than I’m irked by the Queen song “Fat Bottom Girls”. So you can imagine how often I look up and gawk.

Its about as often as I listen to that song.

Its not that I don’t think its worthwhile and amazing to look up – I do! I just think its:

A) annoying to anyone who is not you.
B) dangerous.

Taking your eye off the ball in New York could very easily send you to the emergency room. Every time I leave my apartment, I run the gauntlet. Between construction, swinging purses, speeding cabs, rogue bikers, strollers, kids, dogs, dive-bombing pigeons, divots, potholes, lost tourists, opening doors, busses, trains and even planes – I literally have to be alert, aware, and able to dodge a run-away vendor cart in 3 inch heels. Needless to say, I’m generally looking anywhere but up. And if I am, its probably because I'm flat on my back, having been clotheslined by a group of drunken bachelorettes.

This is why I’ve been looking forward to Summer Streets since August last - because 7 miles is easy when its danger-free.

Summer Street Saturdays is something that began last year. For three Saturdays during the month of August, New York closes off a route from the Brooklyn Bridge to the entrance of Central Park at 72nd Street. Its 6.9 miles of open road for anything but cars, and its a whole new New York.

One surprise about Summer Streets is how wide the streets actually are. They usually seem so narrow and congested - which they are. But open? Car free? They're like a runway. The sky opens up above as though you're looking at it from a concrete field. Sure, there's still the occasional stampede of first-time roller-bladers (never safe), or Livestrong-from-head-to-toe bikers (never OK) - but mostly, the route is full runners, walkers and revelers like me. Few are tourists, most are considerate and all are looking up, loving the view.

Seeing New York City from the ground up during Summer Streets is literally like being in another city. Or - perhaps more accurately - watching a movie from a Treadmill (as during Summer Streets, there is little chance of walking knee-first into a fire hydrant, or face-first into the side of a bus).

I've walked those exact streets dozens of times, and have never noticed the buildings. Some are old, with character, some new with none. Some have voyeuristic windows, some have broken glass. There are enviable roofdecks, balconies, and ivy covered walls. Some buildings look as though they've housed eccentric painters, famous writers and old women with 50 cats. Some buildings look as though they house someone who's never home.

This is where I live. These are my neighbors, my eateries, my Post Offices. I've literally spent a year walking by New York - looking for something that I blindly pass.

In a city of 10 million, its hard to feel like you're a part of it. Sure, this is the smallest big city ever when you bump into an ex on the subway, or see the same strange stranger twice - but in all actuality, this place is huge. Its easy to feel little to no connection to your own neighborhood, or neighbors, let alone the City as a whole. You are one face in millions.

And perhaps, that's why they do this - because there's something about huffing it 7 miles, in the hot sun, up the center of major city arteries that gives a sense of community that only doing so can describe. For me, I saw my city, instead of obstacles. I looked up at it, instead of down at me. And therein was the connection I've been searching for.

When we reached Central Park, Gertie was delirious, Chris was grumpy, and I was just getting started. I couldn't stop looking up - taking it in - gawking. I noticed the trees in the park, saw a red balloon escaping its fate, and I saw birds that weren't pigeons. That said, I also walked into a couple, tripped over a dog leash, and stood in the worst possible place to stand, looking up.

Next stop, Times Square. Que "Fat Bottom Girls".