Listen to the Ali on the Run Show!
- May 27, 2020 by AliAli on the Run Show Episode 242: Shalane Flanagan
- May 25, 2020 by AliAli on the Run Show Episode 241: On the Job with JoMarie Flores, Funeral Director
- May 21, 2020 by AliAli on the Run Show Episode 240: Lee Glandorf, Tracksmith Head of Communications
- May 20, 2020 by AliAli on the Run Show Episode 239: Dinée Dorame, Citizen of the Navajo Nation
- May 13, 2020 by AliAli on the Run Show Episode 238: Sasha Wolff, Founder of Still I Run
Although I’ve lived in New York City for almost four years, I definitely don’t consider myself a New Yorker.
I feel like “New Yorker” is a sacred term — one reserved for people who were born and raised here, or who have been here for a really really really long time.
I am not one of those people.
I was born in Pennsylvania and moved to New Hampshire when I was 9 months old.
For as long as I can remember, New Hampshire was “home.”
But now, NYC is home.
(I’m sorry Mom, I know you’re going to hate this entire post.)
When I go away, NYC is where I come back to. My apartment, especially now that I live alone and own everything inside of it (including the dirty dishes and the towels that should probably get washed soon), is my home.
My mom hates this fact. She likes to remind me that “New Hampshire will always be your home.”
That’s true, especially since I managed to fill my childhood bedroom with so much crap that my parents will never be able to clean it out and turn it into something cooler.
Sorry, brother Ryan, that they turned your room into a guest room as soon as you left the nest. Maybe you should’ve started an empty wine cooler collection like I did, or littered your walls with Britney Spears concert tickets and pictures of half-naked men cut out from Abercrombie shopping bags.
Whoa. Back to my point.
While I still can’t totally call myself a New Yorker, today I came one step closer: I finally got a New York state license!
I now have a New York cell phone number (RIP 603), a New York address and a New York ID.
The DMV wasn’t totally awful this morning.
I woke up nice and early so I could still get a run in before standing in line for a while.
My stomach felt weird today.
I’m not worried about it though.
I’ve also been dealing with a constant headache this week. I think it’s from grinding my teeth. I need to stop doing that.
This morning was much cooler than yesterday and there was a slight breeze. Coach Cane wanted me doing 4 miles “on a soft surface” at “nothing faster than 9-minute miles.”
Well, Coach, I did 4.5 miles, and I did them just a little faster than that.
It’s so great getting to know these girls while we run. Today we chatted about laundry, how often we’re willing to re-wear running tights in the winter (I’m not gross, I promise. OK, I’m a little gross. But aren’t we all?) and, naturally, frozen yogurt. Doesn’t the conversation always lead back to ice cream of some sort?
Fun fact: I seem to kick myself while I run. I noticed that my left leg was really dirty when I got back…
Post-run I showered, made some lunch and was off to Herald Square in no time.
I arrived at the DMV location at 8:20 am — 10 minutes before it opened.
I was greeted by a line at least 50 people deep.
Naturally I had to wait in the part without any shade.
The lines just kind of keep going. First you wait outside. Then the DMV opens, and you move into the building where you wait for the elevators.
Then you take the elevator up to the 8th floor. Then you wait in another line.
Then you get told “no pictures, please.” So then you have no more photographic evidence of the three more lines you waited in.
Honestly though, it wasn’t bad. The lines are constantly moving, and I was out of there by 9:30, temporary ID in hand.
I’ll have an actual New York license “in about two weeks.”
And that’s one big thing checked off that To Do list of mine!
Other fun things:
Who’s the classiest girl you know?
Right. I am.
Also, here is a dog:
Time to tackle the day.
BUT FIRST TELL ME: Where is “home” to you? Is it where you live now or where you grew up? I still call New Hampshire home, but NYC is home, too. I guess that saying is true: home is where the heart is. And my heart lives in two places!