My love affair with running coincided with my parents’ divorce. I was 12 and Dad moved from the suburbs to New York City. He lived a few blocks from Central Park, one of the world’s most celebrated running venues. Every few weekends, it became my home away from home. Last Sunday, I unexpectedly found myself back in the city, once again in Central Park for a mind-clearing run.
Even though it was sunny and 32 degrees, I stepped out into what felt like air from the North Pole. I would happily take a Flagstaff subzero run over this anytime — after all, “it’s a dry cold.”
During the short jog up Fifth Avenue, I dodged tourists like I was playing Frogger, and entered the park’s southeast corner. I ran by the Conservatory Waters where, as a toddler, my parents took me to enjoy the model boats. I then passed the Zoo where gramps and I enjoyed watching the seals play. I passed the Great Lawn, where, in 1981, my best friends and I watched Simon and Garfunkel play one of the largest free concerts ever. The following year, right before high school graduation, we attended the massive No Nukes Rally, with Bruce Springsteen and Jackson Brown headlining.
Powering uphill, a bronze lion statue crouched on a rock above me. I wondered how many times this scenario played out with real lions on my solo runs on Mount Elden.
A few hundred strides north, “Cleopatra’s Needle,” a 3,500-year old Egyptian obelisk, towered over me. A gift from the Egyptian government in 1881 commemorating the opening of the Suez Canal, its hieroglyphics have severely weathered. Because of its eroded condition, Egypt’s chief archaeologist wants to repatriate the monument. As a kid, it was just another statue of absolutely no interest to me. My profession of archaeology and historic preservation was not on my radar screen, even though King Tut was pretty “funky.”
Passing the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I leapt up the granite steps leading to the Central Park Reservoir. In 1976, the opening scene of the movie “Marathon Man” showed Dustin Hoffman running around the reservoir, frantically checking his stopwatch. This scene inspired me the following day to run laps around the 1.57-mile loop. I often challenged myself to break 10 minutes, which I did only years after living in Flagstaff’s thin air.
As I topped out on the loop’s north end, a stone’s throw from where I was born (Mt. Sinai Hospital), the city’s stunning skyline features the Chrysler, Empire State, and Panam buildings. Since I last ran the Reservoir, two twin towers were notably missing. After a week in the city, and homesick for Flagstaff, I likened these towering manmade monuments to Buffalo Park’s sweeping vista of volcanic monuments, Kendrick, the San Francisco Peaks, Mount Elden, Mormon Mountain and Anderson Mesa.
After a second chilly lap, I headed south toward the Columbus Avenue entrance. I passed the now boarded-up Tavern on the Green, once one of the most prestigious restaurants in the City, and the finish line of my six exhilarating New York City Marathons. Leaving the park, I wondered when I would return, and what changes were sure to take place.
Neil Weintraub is a native New Yorker who has lived in Flagstaff for 26 years. He is the director of Northern Arizona Trail Runners Association (www.natra.org) and the Flagstaff Summer Running Series. To learn more about the places and history mentioned above, visit natra.org.