Tag Archives: train

Minuses and pluses

I am on the road. Travel invariably plays havoc with any effort at self-care. My presentations for tomorrow being complete, this seems a moment to take stock of the past two days.

Minus – I have not reached my goal of 10,000 steps on either day.

Minus – I have not been able to walk for 30 minutes either day.

Minus – I have eaten a bit too much this evening.

Plus – I did not over eat on the trip from New York to Washington, DC. That almost never happens. Airport and train stations transform me into some form of over-sized locust that eats everything in sight.

Plus – Yesterday I ate well. Today I came close.

Plus – I have reflected on how I did rather than just letting it happen.

Plus – I have recorded my numbers even when they were not what I wanted. Usually when I fail to walk or eat too much or my blood sugar is too high, I don’t make a note of it. Denial means it did not happen, perhaps?

I am on the road. Travel invariably plays havoc with any effort at self-care. My presentations for tomorrow being complete, this seems a moment to take stock of the past two days.

Minus – I have not reached my goal 0f 10,000 steps on either day.

Minus – I have not been able to walk for 30 minutes either day.

Minus – I have eaten a bit too much this evening.

Plus – I did not over eat on the trip from New York to Washington, DC. That almost never happens. Airport and train stations transform me into some form of over-sized locust that eats everything in sight.

Plus – Yesterday I ate well. Today I came close.

Plus – I have reflected on how I did rather than just letting it happen.

Plus – I have recorded my numbers even when they were not what I wanted them to be. Usually when I fail to walk or eat too much or my blood sugar is too high, I don’t make a note of it. Denial means it did not happen, perhaps?

See you along the Trail.

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Filed under Exercise, Food, Travel

Friday ride to work

I watch from the subway platform
as below, the workers
disembowel what remains of
my dry cleaning store. Piece by
piece they remove the innards
making way for who knows what.
The other would-be passengers
stir restlessly on the platform.
Then I see him.
Leaning against the railing,
eyes closed, he thrusts his face
expectantly toward the sky
trying to absorb every ray
of the early morning sun.
The moment breaks as the platform
begins to vibrate, signalling the
approach of the train. The doors open.
As I enter, Brother Willie comes on my iPod.

11 May 2013
125th Station

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Why I like New York 29: The High Line

IMG_1208 (768x1024)A diverse community calls New York home. Interesting, unique opportunities lie around almost every corner.

The High Line is one of them. Located on Manhattan’s West Side, this public park is build on a freight rail  line elevated above the streets. The High Line runs from Gansevoort Street in the Meatpacking District to West 34th Street, between 10th & 11th Avenues.

A path follows the old tracks: sometimes on them, sometimes above them, sometimes beside them. Trees, grass, and flowers (watch for some purple flower photos in a few months – I am still catching up)  line the sides. Art shows up every now and then. The vibrant life of the city surrounds the path, enhancing the experience.

Several friends had recommended the High Line. Today, with Tricia, I finally followed their advice. I should have done so sooner. I will do so again.

See you along the Trail.

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Chance meeting

In a place beyond remembering,
at a time now forgotten,
for a purpose that dances on recall’s fickle fringe
our lives met and briefly touched.

Talking, we sit upon the train,
lost memory perched between us.
Recognition briefly tingles,
but nothing more emerges and
I could not say
where or
when or
why or
who.

Can you?

3 April 2012
7 Train from Grand Central to Times Square

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Subway incantation

Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he makes his way up the crowded stairs, he chants.

Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he hears the train above the crowd, he chants.

Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he crests the final stair, he chants.

Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he watches the train leave, he chants.

Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he wonders what to do, he chants.

Hold on
Hold on
Hold on

7 March 2012
Shire on the Hudson

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Patio of the station

The sun warms his face
while he stands on the patio
of the station.
The crowd gathers
impatiently
he waits for the train.

From a distance
he hears a
mournful, hopeful whistle,
and can not help but
wonder:
to go on, to stay?

Does he have a choice?

26 November 2011
Staples Mill Amtrak Station
Richmond, VA

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Empty building

Somewhere north of Newark
(but could be most anywhere, USA)
you sit:
a windows broken,
interior gutted,
paint peeled,
iron rusted,
graffiti marked,
empty building.

As the train rolls by I wonder:
What did you house in your prime?
What have you witnessed in your time?

23 November 2011
Amtrak 91

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The lungs of the train

The doors open when
the number three train
grinds to a stop in Times Square.

Passengers pile out,
passengers pile on the cars,
filling the lungs of the train.

After the exchange, refreshed,
the train pulls from the station,
resuming its uptown journey.

15 November 2011
Times Square

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View from the front of the train

I had never been there before –
not that I have all that much experience,
but I do ride the subway regularly –
I have done so since I have been in New York.
I prefer it to the bus
or even a cab (unless I am carrying a lot of stuff).
So that’s kind of often,
yet not all that much,
but nowhere in those trips,
however many,
however few,
have I ever done
what I did today.

On a homeward journey,
I hurried down the steps in Grand Central
to find, sitting in the station, a number 3 train –
clearly about to depart,
nonetheless prepared to receive boarders.
I did. Into the lead car, I slipped.
The doors closed, and were caught
by a privileged child with his umbrella and a sneer.
They reopened and a number of travelers poured in.
They drove me, gently I admit,
but relentlessly drove,
to the front of the train. The very front.

Never having been there before,
a moment passed before I realized the view;
when I did, it grabbed me; I became entranced –
watching red, blue, green, white, yellow –
flashing colors of light,
girders blurring on the side,
the track disappearing under the train.
I moved closer to the window;
watching a fantastic world,
only tearing myself away
from the view at the front of the train
when I feared I would miss my stop.

Shire on the Hudson
17 October 2011

 

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Eyes between his feet

Faithfully, patiently, his black eyes sat between his feet.
His white hair, lightly, very lightly peppered hung over his shirt collar.
oblivious to the passengers who looked them over carefully,
his thumb flicked open his watch to learn the time.

The train slowed as it approached the station; his eyes stood
on all four legs, certain this was the stop; he patted a haunch,
spoke softly, and shortened the leash; his eyes sat back down.
When the train squealed to halt, they rose, and together departed.

Downtown 3 Train
17 October 2011

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