Writer on the Run XXVI

A whole hour sitting in Century 21 on the West Side while he shops and I writhe in pain. There isn't a cab to be seen and I cannot imagine anything much worse than this. I smell like I ran a marathon and feel like I did...so sitting here waiting for time to pass is just about all I can take. He found a hat and tried on some shirts to pass the time but I had enough and was willing to pay an uber to take me through the Financial District and back up the East side at this point. He waited in line and I walked out the door just in time to step into a cab as someone else stepped out. Luckily by this time the streets were starting to open up again; I didn't care how long it took...I was not getting out of this car until I was in front of my door.

Only 25 minutes for a typical seven minute ride but I didn't care, I was more concerned about the five story walk up I would have to conquer next. I paid the driver and couldn't thank him enough for trying every known street in the area to cross over to the East side. My son grabbed my bag of things from the race and helped me up the stairs...I'm about to spend ten minutes in an ice bath and I'm a touch nervous that I won't be able to ever get out. I walked over to the couch to take off my shoes...knowing they would not be back on my feet for several weeks...if ever again. It hurt more to take them off then walk with them and I have no idea how I will finish out the next week walking around the city. Across the room I could see a bunch of snacks and gifts laid out along with a sign to cheer me on...I love this kid so much...I was too dehydrated to shed another tear but that didn't stop my face from trying...he gets the picture.

I grabbed my towel and made my way to where he had already drawn me an ice cold bath with ice cubes...he sets the timer on his watch...here goes nothing...