Yonkers

My apologies to anyone who noticed (which might be like one person), but I didn't post this morning. I was out of town. Specifically, I was in Yonkers, New York, visiting my boyfriend.

I haven't been running very much recently. April and May mean finals and late nights. I work at a restaurant with a huge patio, so the spring weather means more hours. And all of that work means that I want to blow off steam, which means epic partying the likes of which has not been seen since last summer. The last thing I want to do when I wake up is go running.

Usually when I go to Yonkers, that is my time off. I eat $15 worth of Taco Bell by myself and smoke hookah and watch Futurama in my boyfriend's basement. Having skipped so many days of running this time, though, I had to get out. While he was at work, I put on my shoes and tried to explain to his grandma who speaks almost no English at all, that I was leaving and I would be back soon.

Running in Yonkers is different from running in North Philly. In the area I was in, there are trees and bridges and lots of lush gardens from these well-tended upper middle class houses situated on little hills. Even so, I'll take the North Philly blocks any day. Even if I have to dodge a diaper in the middle of a North Philly sidewalk, it's still better than running in Yonkers.

Why, you ask? The main reason is the way people look at me. North Philadelphians are pretty rad, most of the time. I've had people yell out to me, cheer me on, run beside me for a block, or give me nicknames. My old neighbors used to call me "legs." I can deal with whistling and cat-calling. Bring it on.

What I can't deal with is Yonkers. People in my boyfriend's suburbs look at me like I'm going to steal their wallets as I go by. When I get into the more urban areas, I get a lot of blatant staring. Pedestrians will stop walking and their heads will follow me. I feel like an alien. There are no runners in Yonkers, at least not that I've seen.

I ran until I got completely and hopelessly lost and then used the Maps on my iPhone to find my way back to my boyfriend's house. I was so glad to be back. Its eerie having strangers stare at you for an hour without saying a word.

My boyfriend's grandma, at least, was happy to see me. She barely speaks English, but I think she likes me. She handed me two bananas, patted my muscles and said "big." Max's family is pretty much all I like about Yonkers.