I love to walk but AT WALK COST
Don't worry, everything's fine!
Hi Bestie!!
I love walking. You know that. Let's talk about Big Walks. (Big Walks for Big Feelings!)
First, there is the inspiringly named Door to Shore, a walk the hosts of the Bananas podcast complete every year: "Walk from your home into the nearest body of water for charity!" Last year Kurt and Scotty raised over $9,000 for CAST LA to help victims of human trafficking. (They encourage participants — there were 35 last year — to donate to any charity of their choice.)
The distance from my door to the Riegelmann boardwalk in Coney Island is 7.8 miles. It takes an estimated two hours and 51 minutes. The route takes Bedford through Prospect-Lefferts Gardens before turning down Foster Avenue past Washington Cemetery (or down 14th Street past DiFara Pizza) through Midwood before passing through Gravesend (and Gravesend Cemetery) down Shell Road. I could also take Bedford Avenue. Or I could walk out my door and end up in Sheepshead Bay — literally — and commemorate the walk with Roll N Roaster, which I've never been to but heard about. Eight miles in two hours sounds ambitious. It will take longer, and despite all the whining ahead, it sounds like fun.
In researching urban hikes for this newsletter I found two impressive hikes. First, the terrifyingly long Inman 300, named for its creator, Bob Inman, and the number of public stairways it contains. Inman "worked hard to incorporate as many of Los Angeles' public stairways as possible, which in part accounts for the crazy zig-zag twists and turns in the route." Jesus Christ, Bob. The route was completed in 2013 not by Bob but by Liz "Snorkel" Thomas, who has the fastest known time record for an unsupported thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail by a woman. She finished the 180-mile route in 5 ½ days. Kelley Wiley Lane finished in 2014 after the guide was published. It doesn’t seem like many people have accepted the challenge of the Inman 300.
The official hike is 218 miles with 344 public stairways. It's seven miles longer than the John Muir Trail, which stretches from Yosemite Valley to Mount Whitney. "It follows sidewalks and streets, you can easily gain 2000-3500' of elevation in a day." I am tempted! When I visited Los Angeles last year I walked from the Metro station through Los Feliz (past Cary Grant's apartment!) to Griffith Park. I walked all day but only had 25,000 steps and 11 miles. I'm better suited for The Great LA Walk, held every fall from Griffith Park to Griffith Park.
I think Los Angeles is mostly walkable. More walkable than New Orleans. Not as walkable as Medora, which has plentiful sidewalks (and, it was pointed out at orientation one year, multiple surface types) and trails in town.
Undaunted by the city’s reputation, Tucker and Wes twice walked 41 miles in one day in Los Angeles. They were accompanied by the Los Angeles Times for their second walk.
Tucker and Wes were inspired by someone who "walked 50 miles for no reason." They were also accompanied by a friend. (The secret may be having a friend who can commiserate.) The 50-milers wore Allbirds and Brooks. (Tucker and Wes wore On Shoes and Brooks.) They started in Pasadena and were picked up by a girlfriend 18 hours later. They planned to be near the water at 3 a.m. for safety. (All of Manhattan is near the water, and I think I'd feel less safe near either river at 3 a.m.) They stretched every five miles for ten minutes, stopped at 7-Eleven for water, and had a 2,000-calorie dinner (by their estimation) at 9:45 p.m. in Century City at Shake Shack.
The poster walks 35 miles a week (me too) around their neighborhood listening to audiobooks (me too). They went to a three-hour movie the next day.
Tucker and Wes walked fourteen hours in one day, stopping for lunch and when their feet hurt. Tucker reported feeling "frail" the next day. Both groups started in Pasadena and ended in Santa Monica. For the second walk, the pair started in Griffith Park. They took photos and talked the whole time.
I would be remiss if I didn't shout out my favorite trail, the Maah Daah Hey Trail ("North Dakota's Best Kept Secret"). The historic trail is a member of a system of nine units "of varying size and difficulty." The Famous Original Trail is 145 miles through the Badlands. It's beautiful, it's silty, and it goes through rivers, streams, valleys, bluffs, buttes, towns, private land, and state parks. Some of it is behind Peaceful Valley Ranch, where I once turned a corner and was face-to-face with a bison. (I whipped back around the corner before hustling back to my rental car.) My favorite sections go past Pully Pulpit Golf Course — one year I couldn't figure out the livestock gate, so I resorted to hopping over the gates like a truant teen — which provides a view of the course, but also the town and the scoria-rich backcountry and hoofprints from sheep and deer.
There is another section that traverses low, instead of high. It is filled with trees and is sheltered by the bluffs on either side. It winds and dips and I ended up with a terrible sunburn that surprised everyone I volunteered with that day because while I sweated and panted near town they bundled against the wind in their sweatshirts. You can backpack the whole thing in four to five days and there is a big trail race — it's the longest contiguous single-track trail in America — every year (bikes and runners). The run this year is in July and the bike race is in August. (I'm not proud, I would suffer through the 5k. It's downhill!)
The most important thing about the trail is its name and its history. In the language of the Mandan Hidatsa people, it means "an area that has been around a long time." (It also means "Grandfather.") The trail has been around longer than its ribbon cutting in 1998: it was used as a footpath for the people who lived in the Badlands long before Teddy Roosevelt and the coal miners arrived. (One of the trailheads is near Burning Coal Vein Campground, an underground coal fire! That area has a nice loop, too, provided the park service has reconstructed the road to get there.) The trail marker features a turtle, the symbol of the Lakota Sioux tribe.
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When my friend asked if I wanted to do the Great Saunter this year I responded, "$30 and a free hat, sure!" I've done this walk before! In 2018 I skipped my workout class on a Tuesday morning and walked around the circumference of Manhattan myself. It was a beautiful day and I was so proud of myself. (Curiously no one else I knew was! Why am I writing this?!)
In 2018 I got lost around the North end and ended up crossing Manhattan and taking a bus downtown. (I missed the turn for Inwood Hill Park and almost crossed into the Bronx. In retrospect, this is a better route.) It was a nice day but by 3 p.m. it was 90 degrees and I needed a break. The Great Saunter, if completed, is 32 miles. More than a marathon!!
That day I got 26 miles. This year I had 22 miles. A disappointment, to be sure: my weekly average is a mere 34 miles, and I hoped to gain an extra week's worth of miles that day.
I did not get that. My week-over-week increase was 12.36 miles. I had a 28,273 step increase. The next week, when I was exhausted and in Maryland (a passenger princess) my weekly total was 18 miles. Then, the week I came back I was down to 25 miles! I'm still behind my goal, even though I went to the gym and the garden. I've reached Chimney Rock, which is great, but it's only 703.62 miles and I should be halfway there (1,012 miles, yikes).
Why would I care about this? Aside from the broad picture, which I've been pondering (it's more than loving a weird challenge), I signed up to walk 2,024 miles this year. Another great idea, another repeat: the Oregon Trail Challenge. I have a team wagon but if I do it alone (and I might) I can complete it if I walk five miles every day. I am so behind (but 23rd of 335 teams).
You can see why I thought this was a great idea. I love walking! My confidence plummeted over time. I haven't worked out like I used to — this spring has been heck on my joints (I have rods, pins, nails, and screws drilled into my leg and arm, and the switch in air pressure makes it swell, you might not know that!) and also, everything kind of sucks right now.
I was worried about having to take a break before my friend was ready. I woke up a few days before the walk with my annual spring cold. I slept only four hours the night before. My friend canceled, and I went alone, anyway.
People did not like this!! I don’t know why. I don’t know how I manage to bring out the worst in so many people. (Barbra Streisand carefully called it "undisciplined" in her memoir.) I was not the only person — I was not the only woman! — walking alone. I was surrounded by groups of young people and old ladies who viewed me suspiciously and around mile eight, an old man asked, with a tone, "Are you okay," before running away. I had soured.
Like an expensive cocktail, I am now sour and bitter about the whole thing.
A few miles later I made a new friend and chatted non-stop at her for the next twelve miles, so things turned around! She arrived as I was fully engrossed in My Name is Barbra, which I cannot recommend enough.
Since she was better prepared than I was (she brought a second pair of shoes), this is what I packed the night before:
- My 48-ounce Nalgene
- Moleskin (blister protection)
- Extra socks
- Body Glide (I’m now recommending Monistat Care Feminine Chafing Relief Powder Gel)
- Diaper rash paste (I've been on DermGram, and it's great for rashes)
- A cap (You pay for the hat but there is no guarantee and I'm not That Guy)
- Salonpas
- Body Wipes
- Safety pins (for my race bib)
- Frooze Balls
- Two RX Bars
- Clip-on lights for my shoes
- My snacklebox
I always carry ibuprofen and Down There Wipes (that's the brand name) a lesson I learned from beachcombing (and experiencing the park's bathrooms off-season). When I reached a restroom in Riverside Park, it was out of toilet paper, so this was good. It was my last wipe, however, and that was bad. To add insult to injury, the bathrooms in Inwood Hill Park were "backed up" and locked to the public by 3 p.m. which was disappointing. (This happened to me again in June in Prospect Park.) These were the last bathrooms for several miles.
Inwood Hill Park is now near the top of my mortal enemies list (in bad company with Dick Cheney, Mitch McConnell, both Steve Cohens, and Derek Jeter), despite having the only natural forest in Manhattan. It had so many hills, and the Shorewalkers guide implied there was one hill. It seemed like we entered the park, went over a hill, and hit the halfway mark. Lies!
We had to mosey into the park, go over a bridge, and traverse several hills to exit the park. The park also has a beach, not that I saw it near any of the hills I suffered through. (There is a train station very close to this entrance of the park, so I might try to find it one day, despite my war against the park.)
A group of women warned us, as they entered the park, that the east side has a long stretch without a bathroom. We had passed people in the park and openly (in my case, loudly) wondered why people would hit the midway point and turn around to do hills again, with a subway station so close to the park — the ladies told us they started on the other side! (This is a very good idea because Saturday morning in Chelsea puts you with packs of runners.) They provided a great service and I hope all of their dreams come true because I probably would have squatted behind a tree in full view of the Bronx without their warning. A very nice lady approached us during this chapter of the saga and recommended we try a bar nearby, as she used their restroom during COVID while selling fish at the farmer's market.
We found the bar and that was how I learned that Inwood Hill used to be called Tubby Hook. To be taken seriously, Tubby Hookers change their name in 1864. Part of the prestige and desire was related to being the "first" neighborhood in Manhattan — I'm not sure exactly how this vies against Marble Hill, which didn't become an island separate from Manhattan until 1895 (and joined the Bronx through the landfill filling in the river in 1914). It was a zigzag through Inwood to get to the water, and it began to rain, and the only thing I could hold onto — aside from my new friendship — were dreams of food: cheeseburgers at trivia and everything on the menu at Fish Market. Maybe a vodka soda at Fish Market, too.
Most of the walk was disappointing without my new friend. Nearly every volunteer I encountered was kind of mean! One was more interested in getting pictures with the hats she was handing out than handing me one. They were deeply suspicious that I was alone. One of them was nice at the first snack stop but the woman with her chided me for being late when I wasn't late yet! Tell that to the fit man 500 yards behind me, I muttered all afternoon. It happened again when we got to Inwood. A woman with a granny cart snidely told a group of us that she thought no one else was coming, and I looked over my shoulder to see a large group of walkers headed her way. It was snotty and I never saw it happen to men or people who were "active." By the time my friend and I passed a group of enthusiastic young men, I wasn't interested in anyone's moral support anymore. Finally: when we reached a water station the volunteer had left the area and left cases of water behind. I was grateful for the water but disheartened. I am not worth waiting for! (A message I am told over and over again.)
We eventually gave up. My new friend had walked ten miles the day before. My feet hurt — there was a tightness under my toenails and a blister under my toes, though I only knew it as a shooting pain. I couldn't walk normally anymore. My friend decided to end there, and I was grateful because without someone to talk at (the history of Coney Island, how much I hate the Yankees, how much I want to go to Fish Market, and several inappropriate memes I won't repeat here) I would have quit before Inwood Hill Park. I was bored and angry when we met. I wouldn't have continued much longer without her.
I waved goodbye as my friend got into an Uber (and she offered to have it drop me off at home!) and I turned back to my audiobook, determined to get a vodka soda downtown. I hobbled down the hill on Edgecombe Avenue above Jackie Robinson Park, wondering if we had fallen under the Curse of Coogan's Bluff, despite never having lived in San Francisco.
The San Francisco Giants were cursed by angry fans when they moved from New York to California. (Some say it began in 1918 when Eddie Grant died in WWI. A plaque was erected and then stolen by an angry fan forty years later.) During the last leg of our journey, a lot of calculating was based on landmarks in Maps that matched the markers on the Shorewalkers map, and for a period, I used Coogan's Bluff, "a promontory near the western shore of the Harlem River." The Bluff extends from 155th Street to 160th Street, between Edgecombe Avenue and the river. A 175-foot escarpment from 175th Street to the river created Coogan's Hollow, which was home to the Polo Grounds from 1890 to 1964.
The Polo Ground hosted the New York Giants from 1891 to 1957 (hence the curse) and the Yankees until the dreadful team's first stadium opened in 1923. (You can see the current stadium from the top of Edgecombe Avenue.) The Giants football team played in the Polo Grounds, too, before moving to Yankee Stadium in 1956. Then the Mets moved in for their 1962 and 1963 seasons, before moving to Queens.
The area is now home to The Bushman Steps, which led patrons from the 155th Street Station to the ticket booth. The more impressive John T. Brush Stairway lifts pedestrians from the Hollow to the top of the Bluff, and I could see it from the Harlem River and again during my defeat. The Stairway is named after a man who owned the Giants; "the identity of the namesake of the Bushman Steps has apparently been lost." What's left of the Polo Grounds now? A housing complex run by the city and the two stairways.
There was hope for me after all. At the bottom of the hill, at 145th Street, is a Charles Pan Fried Chicken. Two blocks away, at the top of a small hill, is the C train. I thought I'd get on the C train and take it to the Seaport for my certificate, hobble into Fish Market, and drink a vodka soda, before going home, taking the longest shower of my life, and eating chicken. (The people working at Charles Pan Fried Chicken were remarkably nice!)
Naturally, none of that happened, either. The C train was running on the F line. The transfers it would take me to cheat were not worth it. I made friends with a dog on the train, transferred to Lafayette for the 6 to the 4, and walked home. I stumbled through Bob & Betty's and then Union Market, and neither had coffee ice cream, which I had thought about all day (thanks to My Name is Barbra). I hobbled one more block and executed an old strategy: no sitting down until you're ready for rest. I reheated dinner, washed my shoes in the sink, took a shower, gathered my supplies, and spent the evening on the couch in front of Netflix.
And the next day I did only two things: I got a pedicure around the block and I saw Steve Reich: Music for 18 Musicians featuring Bang on a Can All-Stars and Friends at BAM.
Have I learned any lessons? Probably not. Sleep more than four hours the day before (I think that would have made a huge difference), don't walk ten miles the day before, and do it alone, because Shorewalkers is useless. I am toying with returning to 145th Street and walking down St. Nicholas or Amsterdam Avenue. I think I can plan several North-South routes with opportunities for treats and restrooms. I am thinking about finishing the second half on the East River — and I'm thinking about Door to Shore (without fundraising).
Where do you think I should walk?
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It's running, not walking, but NYC has 100-miler on June 22.
Jolie Kerr is back. There is a lot of good advice here.
I LOVE THIS: "In Thursday's matchup against the White Sox, the Twins faced a 2-0 deficit in the bottom of the sixth inning. Then, hitting coach David Popkins brought a Cloverdale Foods tangy summer sausage into the dugout and beckoned his players to tap it before they hit.
"The presence of the sausage ignited a flurry of hits, including back-to-back homers from Edouard Julien and Ryan Jeffers in the same inning. After Carlos Santana homered in the eighth, Jeffers tossed the sausage to the first baseman on his return to the dugout and the home-run celebration was born."
Related, the Mariners stadium (T-Mobile Park) will play "Heaven Is A Place On Earth" and drop hot dogs from the ceiling. (Thrilled that liking and sharing enough Orioles content has led to the algorithm sending me content like this.)
Supposedly you can get a hot dog thrown at you from the field at Keys Games.
It's a Hot Dog Girl Summer, everyone.
I think you could make a nice cherry crush (the official cocktail of Ocean City, for those not in the know) with cherry juice, cherry Heering, vodka, and the new Sprite, Sprite Chill. For non-alcoholic, replace the Heering with cherry simple syrup. If you don't want Sprite in your crushes, use seltzer. (You can substitute a different liqueur for Heering, it's sort of like how Cointreau is better than other orange liqueurs.) Follow me for more hot takes on Orange Crush.
I wish I was headed to Ocean City right now
If heaven is real there's a spot reserved for Corinne Fay, who recommended swimwear with photos.
I watched the new Bridgerton episodes (the first half). I heckled nearly every moment. Nicola Coughlin is too good for this. Colin is a loser. Penelope is a boss. (I also see a lot of 20s Katherine here, which is a separate issue.) It's also not very sexy, so I yelled, "Where's the sex," a lot, and now I am worrying about what my landlord thinks. (All Landlords are bad except mine. ALABEM.) I ended up on Wikipedia Saturday night anyway:
"Charlotte was a patron of the arts and an amateur botanist who helped expand Kew Gardens. She introduced the Christmas tree to Britain, decorating one for a Christmas party for children of Windsor in 1800. She was distressed by her husband's bouts of physical and mental illness, which became permanent in later life. She maintained a close relationship with Queen Marie Antoinette of France, and the French Revolution is likely to have enhanced the emotional strain felt by Charlotte. Her eldest son, George, was appointed prince regent in 1811 due to the increasing severity of the King's illness. Charlotte died in November 1818, with her son George at her side. George III died a little over a year later, probably unaware of his wife's death."
Why isn't Marie Antoinette in Queen Charlotte? Show me that!! Show me her son George!! I'm chafing so hard that I should apply diaper paste. (That's a callback.)
Also, I never thought about Kew Gardens, Queens in this context. I have a lot to learn. It's named after the one in Britain! I need a whole day to look at plants in London.
Speaking of gardens, I've been battling fungus gnats for a while (1:4 hydrogen peroxide and water solution recommended by Martha) and swore off doing more when a second bottle did not eradicate the problem. I thought a week away would dry things out but that was incorrect, so I kept my truce until last weekend when I found a random bottle and went to town on my seedlings, which are likely the overlooked culprit. Plastic wrap over wet pots? Here's where my enthusiasm landed me:
I also bought my first Venus flytrap at Trader Joe's but those only eat one to two flies a year and the gnats seem uninterested. Typical!! So now I am looking in hardware stores for bags of sand.
I didn't know Target has a forensics lab and I don't like it. I don't trust them to do the right thing with this private information. (Also, don't steal from Target, the cameras are very good, and they wait until you've stolen enough to prosecute on a federal level.) While we're here, stop locking up my moisturizer, Target!
I grew up with a cornfield behind my house and am only now learning about CORN SWEAT. I guess because Maryland is naturally muggy. (I am not ready for the humidity headed my way.)
I would love to see Chimney Bluff. I've never been to Nebraska (I was very close to the state line once, but my instincts said to go back before it was too dark); I am a big fan of landforms. Native Americans called it "elk penis." This gives me great comfort because I call the Williamsburgh Savings Bank Tower something similar. A town was formed at the base of the landform in 1913 and a post office operated there until 1922. Today cattle graze in the foreground (much like Devils Tower, and I wonder what that's like day to day!) and there's a museum that is largely dedicated to "pioneers" headed westward. There is a cemetery nearby with burials from the Oregon Trail and area residents.
For my birthday — which I do not plan to celebrate otherwise — I'd like everyone to stop texting and driving. You can get a head start now. (I can only think of one person who does text and drive! It's not Andy!!)
Always your friend,
Katherine
Sources (MLA 9)
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Anonymous. “All the Way to the End - Day 12 on the Inman 300.” All the Way to the End - Day 12 on the Inman 300, adventuresbyfoot.blogspot.com/2015/01/all-way-to-end-day-12-on-inman-300.html. Accessed 15 June 2024.
“Bananas Podcast.” BANANAS PODCAST, www.bananaspodcast.com/. Accessed 15 June 2024.
“Berks Live Hot Dog Race: Baltimore Orioles.” MLB.Com, www.mlb.com/orioles/fans/hot-dog-race. Accessed 15 June 2024.
Buiano, Madeline. “How to Get Rid of Gnats on Houseplants-and Prevent Them from Coming Back.” Martha Stewart, Martha Stewart, 5 Oct. 2023, www.marthastewart.com/8214813/how-get-rid-fungus-gnats-houseplants.
Campbell, Dave. “The Twins and Their Lucky Home Run Sausage Are Home Safely with the Winning Streak Still Intact.” AP News, AP News, 4 May 2024, apnews.com/article/twins-home-run-celebration-sausage-291c56eb2dc803df89eb9d23042b645a.
Casey, Nell, and Farideh Sadeghin. “If You’ve Never Eaten at Roll N Roaster You’re Wasting Your Life in NYC.” Gothamist, gothamist.com/food/if-youve-never-eaten-at-roll-n-roaster-youre-wasting-your-life-in-nyc. Accessed 15 June 2024.
“Chimney Rock National Historic Site (U.S. National Park Service).” National Parks Service, U.S. Department of the Interior, www.nps.gov/places/000/chimney-rock-national-historic-site.htm. Accessed 15 June 2024.
“Coogan’s Bluff.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 24 Mar. 2024, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coogan%27s_Bluff.
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Fay, Corinne. “I Tried a Swim Romper so You Don’t Have To.” Big Undies, Big Undies, 22 May 2024, bigundies.substack.com/p/i-tried-a-swim-romper-so-you-dont.
“Go Door to Shore with the Bananas Podcast.” Go Door To Shore with The Bananas Podcast, www.doortoshore.org/. Accessed 15 June 2024.
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Kramer, Daniel. “‘90 Seconds of Pure Joy’: Behind Seattle’s ‘Hot Dogs from Heaven.’” MLB.Com, MLB, 18 May 2024, www.mlb.com/news/behind-the-mariners-hot-dogs-from-heaven-promotion.
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Mayes Boustead, Barb. “What Is Corn Sweat and Why It’s Making the Midwest so Humid.” The Washington Post, 3 Aug. 2022, www.washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/2022/08/02/corn-sweat-midwest-plains-heatwave/.
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