Saturday, February 25, 2012



I Hate Cars or Why I have to learn to Fly or a bel panino di Nutella




So the good news is that Rocco from Olympia Club called me to give me a second lesson time. I had asked him if it could be on Wednesday or Friday after 5,45. It has to be after 5,45 because my class at Happy gym on the other side of town ends at 5,00. He cheerfully told me I could have Fridays at 5,30 and waved away all of my petty objections saying that I had to be reasonable because they need time to set up for the spin class that follows me. I surrendered. And then the cold cruel reality of the situation hit me.


I hate cars. I was in several accidents as a kid and I did not take well to driving lessons. It seems ridiculous to me that a person my size can move around in a big block of metal. I can't stand the thought of hurting or killing someone and I almost got into an accident during my driver's test when I was in my twenties. I would panic and forget which was the brake. Yeah, you don't want me on the road. I tried a second time in my thirties, not realizing that in Brooklyn we have a quaint tradition of honking and yelling obscenities at cars that say STUDENT DRIVER on them. Fuggedaboutit.

At least the scenery is nice.

Sadly, I also hate bicycles. I know, I know. But I was the one kid in all of America who never got the hang of it. And even when I tried those stationary ones at the gym they always feel like a kind of S&M torture on my private parts, not to mention my back and my knees. Plus to get to the gym I would have to be in the road with cars. So it is out of the question. Plus I also hate keys and locks and then you have to lock up the bicycle. It is just a nightmare.
I'm totally weird, but at least I live on my own terms.


Last night I had a nightmare and I woke up with my heart beating fast and and hearing the voice of my boss at Happy gym, Francesca, echoing in my head and saying that it would take me almost an hour, while Chiara, the receptionist yoga teacher who used to work for Olympia weighing in that it would take me at least half an hour and our friends Paola and Fabio who summed up the problem as a bel panino di Nutella, implying that it would be impossible without a significant sugar rush, F convinced me that I should take a test run from one gym to the other. Literally. So, I, who also hate running, alternated running on the balls of my feet (because of the studies done at Harvard and with the African runners) and fast walking the 2.6 kilometers or 1.6 miles that separate the two gyms. Oh, of course, you're right in thinking I pulled my Achilles tendon. Plus I wasn't counting on having to run through the crowded Saturday market near Porta San Jacapo, dodging dogs and old ladies with overflowing shopping bags. Doing my absolute best, and, including the additional one or two minutes that it took to get through the market, I made it in 14 minutes. Of course the obstacle course continues at Olympia club where instructors both have to sign in at the front desk and pass through a turnstile to reach the classroom. I also have shoes to change if possible and the ipod to plug in.

The pigeons in the little perches thought I was ridonkulous.


As we were walking, well I was limping back, F mentioned that he guessed sometimes he could drive me. What???!! You mean I haven't slept for two nights and you could have just driven me? And then you wanted me to get out of bed on one my day off to run a mini marathon? Well, in fact, he has an English lesson to teach Friday nights and our car battery died and he has to pass the practical part of the driver's test on Wednesday before that could even happen, but still.



In unrelated news, I have to make sure that nothing goes on our wrong with Marisol's marathon birthday party because if you remember last year at this time I caused chaos and distress by coming to pick up T after 24 hours instead of after 27 hours. The friend whose husband I asked for a ride is no longer my friend. T and F think the curse of my evil deeds may be removed at midnight the night of this year's party. I plan to hide under the bed and have Paola pick T up.

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