Last night, I did two somethings very out-of-the-ordinary for me:
1. I ran at night, after work, and
2. I ate pizza.
First thing’s first: I am a morning runner. I seriously love waking up at (or before) 6am, bopping right out of bed and into running clothes, and bolting out the door. I love the morning air and the way the sky & river look in the early light, and the scarcity of people out at that time. It’s my quiet time; my chance to start the day on a peaceful note, when all seems right in my little corner of the world as I zone out and run along.
Because of my Monday morning post-lake weekend fatigue, however, I slept in and set out to run last night after work. I planned to just do an easy five-miler, since my run two days ago was significant. It was a lovely evening; the path was full of bikers and runners and walkers, and the river was dappled with paddle boarders and kayakers enjoying the beautiful sunset.
The first three miles went by nicely; the last two, however, were border-line brutal. It amazes me how easily the body can fluctuate from day-to-day, as I felt amazing all throughout my long run on Saturday, but could hardly hold it together for the last two miles of a shorter run. Maybe it was what I ate before I ran, or my body just being tired, or just because, but maaaan, I was struggling. I just didn’t feel great, and could hardly wait to hit my goal distance before walking the rest of the way down to the West Village.
I managed to keep up a good trot despite my woes, so at least that was a nice surprise. I also apparently achieved a “Course award” from my running app, which is always a fun little pat of encouragement, even if I am only competing with myself. 🙂
I ran down to Chelsea Piers, then walked to meet a girlfriend for a Monday night West Village date (yes, in my running clothes — running skirt, mind you!). It was a gorgeous evening that screamed “situate me on a patio ASAP,” so we did just that. A little dry rosé, please, to juxtapose prettily against against the cement and lights.
We then meandered our way over to Olio, which I’ve been meaning to check out ever since I heard they boasted a delicious baked gluten free Margherita pizza. We snagged an outdoor hightop on their darling garden-inspired patio and had the loveliest of evenings at this adorable spot. I rarely ever eat pizza (yes, I’m probably the only NYer you’ll hear say that), but Olio certainly will be changing that. It was light, crispy, fresh and delicious, with a completely charming atmosphere set right in the middle of a bustling intersection that situates you perfectly between feeling like you’re part of the city life while still safely tucked into your own little corner. Definitely a new RTA fave.
I was glad I stuck through the rough run to be rewarded with this magical little evening. It was such a welcome reminder of how giddy grateful I am for my city, my friends, my health, and the little life I’ve created here.
Question: What’s your pizza preference?