A Note From Crabby Abbe.

I’m not really crabby. Not anymore. This morning started a high note for me—a tempo run with Maria and Kelly (whom, literally lives next door—not to be confused with store because it sounds almost accurate and this editor accidentally tweeted it in her tired state last night) round and round the bridle path.

Twas lovely. I thoroughly enjoy getting my training runs done in the wee hours of the morning before work. Why? Cause then I can make a relaxing dinner for myself and His Lordship after work. Or run errands. Or check things off my ‘To Do’ list.

I was back by 7:00 and enjoying coffee, checking emails.

“Oh my goodness! What are we making for dinner tonight?!”

“I don’t know! I’ll buy groceries!”

“Ok!”

Tra la la.

Ready for work and out the door at 8:20. On the way to the subway, I over heard a kind British bloke telling his mate, ‘Eh—something’s wrong with the subway, ya?’

Ruh roh.

I went anyway thinking that it was just the normal commute from the Upper East Side.

Wrong.

I have never seen the subway so packed. On both platforms. And every train coming into the station was packed. Ok, New Yorkers, let’s paint a picture:

Picture both platforms—the upstairs local, and the downstairs express—filled with people. To the point where one wrong move would send you overboard. Then picture fights breaking out to get on the train itself. The picture you not moving. And seeing poor stragglers trying to get off the train since they actually needed to get off at 86 street but were stuck on board because of some ass holes in suits who just HAD to get to work (like no one else had to or something).

That’s what happened. And after 20 minutes of this I said to myself, ‘Totally not worth the anxiety (cause I have that),’ and managed to get myself out and onto Park Ave. heading south. I texted my colleague with ‘Subway f’ed. Will be late.’ I decided if I couldn’t find a cab, I would walk the entire 58 blocks to work. No biggy. I’d just be late.
It wasn’t until 70th that I saw a White Knight with a halo of light beaconing from atop the cab. I got in, told him my story, and away we went to work.

After breakfast, I’ve decided that I’m not crabby. No, no. I’ve managed to accomplish quite a bit before I even got here, some of which was with lovely company. And today’s weather was lovely for a winter run. None of this “Feels like 5” horse dookey like yesterday. Much more manageable.

Alas, it does take a lot of hard work and effort for the MTA to wreak havok in the subway during rush hour. I’m leaving my crabbiness on the doorstep. Just sayin’.

Happy Thursday, everyone! And don’t forget, the first Rogue Runner race of the season is this Saturday!

See y’all out there.

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3 responses to “A Note From Crabby Abbe.

  1. Seriously, the subway was wretched this morning. I was so pissed. So crowded. So awful. People smell so badly. I was in a foul mood when I got to work because of it, too, and now I’m attempting to get over it.

    Happy Thursday! Perk up, Crabby Abbe! Life is good!

  2. Pingback: Taking the Whine out of Winer « Marathon Winer·

  3. I’m so glad we met AND that I just discovered your blog! Yay for being neighbors. I don’t know how, but I stayed calm this morning while watching 6 subways zoom by me before I could finally fit onto one. I always have irrational fears of being pushed off the platform in al the maddness, but hooray! That did not happen. Happy Thursday! See you on Saturday, methinks!

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