I live in Hoboken, New Jersey, located just across the Hudson River from Manhattan http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoboken,_New_Jersey. I work at a television station in New York City/Manhattan.



I am attempting to bridge the gap between an Irishman living in the United States and the Irish people I left behind. I am somewhat bemused by the stories of the still surging Irish economy and all the economic advantages it brings. When I speak with friends through Skype (lets hear it for Skype) sometimes we talk about mundane things like work, weather or commuting. Occasionally we speak about politics or sports, but I personally like to talk about the changes that have taken place since I ran from Ireland in 1989. I have taken infrequent vacations (holidays) at home through the years but not so much since my parents died. I preferred taking vacations in warmer climes, like Belize or Mexico. Friends in Dublin tell me this neighborhood house or that neighborhood house sold for 1.1 million euro and I am agog. All of my close friends have succeeded far beyond my own mediocre success here in the United States. I am basing success on a financial, how many things you can accumulate basis; a truly American way of viewing success. A few of my friends are multiple homeowners and I have to admit, I am jealous at times. It never lasts. I have never owned anything more expensive than my car. I bought that used (second hand) and it was cheap in comparison to Irish standards.

Frequently, I speak with my friends about their long commutes to work and I think back to my own commuting experiences when I worked in Dublin. I can honestly say I did not have too many commuting stories, because I did not have many jobs to commute to. That brings me to the present. I have lived in the New York area for nearly 20-years and I cannot remember traveling less than one hour to work either by car or public transport. Today my commute is about 50 minutes the shortest I can remember. I get up at 6.00 am to get into work for 8 am. I walk three blocks (one block = one street) from my apartment to the bus stop. The bus takes me from Hoboken through the Lincoln Tunnel that connects New Jersey to Manhattan. That bus ride is frequently the most enjoyable part of my day. I get to read the New York Times newspaper and savor the quiet moments.
How do you believe Americans measure success?



Saturday 09/30/07
BRING ON ROUTINE
I like the weekends. I am unusual in that respects!! I take comfort in my weekend routine. As I got older, I relish routine. It brings a sense of normalcy that a weekday does not give me.
It is a beautiful Fall Saturday here in Hoboken and I got up at 6.00am. I am an early riser since I don’t socialize much these days.
I called my running partner Newman and we ran at 9.30 am along Hoboken’s beautiful waterfront. It was a quickie; just 5 miles. On Sunday, both of us were running an 18 mile race in Central Park, N.Y., in preparation for the N.Y.C. Marathon on November 4.

After the run I went to my usual yoga class at the Y.M.C.A. I have practiced yoga, but not consistently, for many years and as my body aged I found the stretching and meditation beneficial to my runner’s body. Today while practicing yoga in the Y’s dingy, badly lit basement, the yoga instructor in her in her tightly wrapped ‘juicy’ like sweatpants demonstrated a very difficult ‘pose’ that involved manipulating her body into a position where her head ended up underneath her ass while standing in a crouched position, with her arms behind my back. Needless to say I did not begin to attempt this pose; as I envisioned myself in traction at the local hospital shortly after.

In the past, I used to attempt all the yoga poses. I did this for three reasons; first, to please the instructor, second, I wanted to avoid being the odd man out and finally, to challenge myself despite the risks. Today, I am comfortable just pleasing myself (biblically), without wanting to please others. I recognize my limitations and I have come to accept them.
I cannot help feeling somewhat peeved when a yoga instructor demonstrates a pose that I cannot in my wildest dreams carry out. Does anybody else feel that way?

Sunday 09/30/07
A PERFECT SUNDAY, WELL ALMOST
Today was a perfect day, weather wise. I rose at 5.45 am put on my running gear and headed into Central Park with Newman. Newman is my running partner. Newman drove into New York City. The air was crisp and clear. The temperature reached 72 degrees Fahrenheit (22 Celsius). I ran 18 miles at a mediocre pace. Although, I am a firm middle of the pack runner, I was not pleased with my performance. My knees hurt and my breathing was sketchy. However, running in Central Park in the fall with thousands of other runners makes up for any disappointments. A strange thing happened when I was stretching after the run. The woman next to me who was also stretching started screaming at the top of her lungs. She made a serious commotion; hysterical in fashion. I came to her aid. She suffered a leg cramp and could not move. Some other runners came over and we started to work on stretching her tight muscle, all the while she kept on screaming. She eventually calmed down when the cramp faded. Nevertheless, her reaction to the cramp was so far out of proportion I wanted slap her. She was from Florida so I made some allowances. Unfortunately, the City of New York issued Newman’s car a parking ticket, which will cost $135. I recommended the parking spot.


Hoboken celebrated its Arts and Crafts Festival on Sunday (09/30). Washington Street, Hoboken’s main thoroughfare was lined with artists, painters, photographers, and sundry stalls all selling their wares. Band stands were set up at each end of the festival route and there was plenty of food from local restaurants. I celebrated with a walk along Washington Street in what will surely be one of my last opportunities to wear flip-flops, shorts and of course, my 18-mile Marathon Tune Up tee shirt, I received earlier in the day.
Does anybody run and smoke?