my permanent boyfriend gave me the hobbit in paperback last christmas. i found it recently and remembered that i promised myself to read the entire series so i stuck it in my purse, to savor on the train. of course mpb as read all of j.r.r. tolkien's work. and george r.r. martin. and every other geek fantasy writer on the planet. clearly, i've got a lot of catching up to do.
this isn't a competition, you know. i just want to be able to keep up with him when he wanders further into the geek forest than i usually do.
somehow everything goes faster in the subway when i have something interesting to read. or maybe i'm so distracted, i don't care that i've had to wait 20 minutes for the train. all i know is, i opened my book and started reading about those filthy, filthy hobbitses, got on the local and the next thing i knew, i was at 42nd street/times square. the thing is, i was supposed to get out at 50th street -- i was on my way to a matinee for million dollar quartet at new world stages, meeting up with friends and everything, and i was running late. what to do?
as the train came to a stop, i looked out the window at the uptown track and saw the express arriving, and i guessed that the local wouldn't be far behind it. so i did the unthinkable: i sprinted out of the train like a starting gun went off -- down the stairs and through a corridor, around the corner and through a corridor, up a flight of stairs and straight into the local train as it arrived.
as the doors closed and i gathered my wits about me, i stopped short and realized that i wasn't out of breath. not even a little bit. how did that happen? i can remember when i wouldn't have even attempted something like that. or if i had, i would have barely made it to the bottom of the second staircase, holding my side and gasping for air. i actually felt the need to supress a grinn as i mulled all this over. maybe its true, what a workout pal told me some months ago -- that you can make the clock turn backwards and if you work hard enough, you can make it stop.
i made sure my bookmark was in place and made my grand exit at 50th street, bounding up the stairs effortlessly and into the snow, which was falling sideways. wheeeeee! i was happier than a kitten chasing a leaky cow.
can i do military pushups yet? nope. can i make it through a boxing conditioning class without crawling to the showers afterwards? nope. but for me to move with such speed and to move that way so abrubtly means that something is falling into place inside me physically. it was confirmation, however slight. all i could think was, its working. all this sweat and muscle ache and falling down and failing up. it's working...!