Although the days when I can freely ride the train and take day trips on my own might be limited, I didn’t let that stop me from going to see good old New York City one more time. I always say “One more time” when doing something I love, because it forces me into a place of gratitude. It’s not meant to sound dark or depressing.
Yesterday, I traveled to NYC to fully appreciate the Brooklyn Bridge. In 2014, I did the NYC Marathon (walking, of course) however the marathon course barely offers a glimpse of this glorious landmark. Instead, the marathon treats people to the Queensboro Bridge, the Verrazzano Narrows Bridge, and one of the bridges connecting Harlem to the Bronx.
I rode the Keystone Amtrak to the city from Harrisburg at 6:12am, so I could hopefully catch what was left of morning light shining on the city buildings. I was a bit late and had to contend with noon sunlight, which can be tricky for photographers. Nevertheless, I managed to get great pictures.
The bridge itself was easy to find and VERY magnificent! I am so glad I went. I totally see why the marathon doesn’t go over it now: the entire walkway is made of slats of wood and concrete. Runners would trip and get injured on such a course. It was also very crowded, to the point where bicyclists found it impossible to get through at a decent pace. I could see the frustration on their faces as the throngs of tourists spilled into the bike lane; walking lane full. There were groups of French tourists for the most part. Many looked to be high school students. One group was blind folded walking in a guided chain, unaware their minds were about to be blown by the views of Manhattan. It was fun to watch.
I made my way off the bridge and to Brooklyn Bridge Park, where I snapped a dream photo of lower Manhattan. And I rode the ferry to Wall Street and headed back.
Through all this, my disease made itself known more than it ever has on a trip to New York in the past. My heartbeat was too fast climbing up to Penn Station when I arrived. I was hot and exhausted on the subway ride to Columbus Circle. The walk to Lexington and 59th Street for the number 6 subway was hard. I noticed everyone wearing jackets while I was drenched with sweat in a thin shirt. It felt like it was 85 degrees to me. It was only 61.
At the bridge I was delighted and that made the tiredness in my legs somewhat less noticeable. But I struggled to walk the half mile from the pier to the Wall Street subway station, then got on the wrong train. Twice. My mind gets messed up when I get exhausted like that. The long subway ride did not provide rest. I nearly passed out once back at Penn Station. It was a terrifying feeling. I got an earlier train back home and fell asleep through New Jersey, which is highly unusual. And since the trip, my lower body has been a painful mess. My muscles are full of lactic acid from the high oxygen demand on them and low supply.
But I feel I will be okay to go back there to see Central Park’s fall colors. I will do what I can for as long as I can with the energy I’ve got. Pulmonary hypertension is my companion and we must work together. And we can!