New York, Loneliness, and Living Life to the Fullest

The story of running trails and being lonely amidst 8 million people in less than twenty-four hours.

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Since April 1st, I’ve visited Missouri, Nebraska three times, Arkansas, Peru, Oregon, New York, and Connecticut. My most recent adventure in the northeast was with the National FFA Organization. I was hired to facilitate two trainings in the same week with a few free days in between. Maddie dropped me off at the airport at 4:30 a.m. Before we said goodbye she noted how much life I had lived in a few short months– gatherings, funerals, friends, family, hikes, runs, planes, busses, and road trips. Her statement rang true. Exhaustion made me question if the pace I was living was sustainable.

The first three days in New York were spent at Camp Oswegatchie. The twelve-hundred-acre property was purchased by a group of agriculture educators in 1946. Today it is owned and operated by the New York FFA Leadership Training Foundation. On the drive into Oswegatchie, cell service disappeared about ten miles away. After a moment of technology withdrawal, I got excited. Losing service, especially in a beautiful place like upstate New York, is good (as long as you aren’t lost). When I arrived at the camp’s headquarters there was a massive lake, trails, and untouched wilderness everywhere. I couldn’t wait to see where my feet could take me.

The next morning I rose early, ate a banana, laced up my shoes, and started running. Where was I running to? I had no idea. I ran down a main road, took a left on an ATV road, and then another left at a sign that said “Long Pond Trail.” The trail was softened by rain and covered with pine needles. Running on the terrain took acute focus. At the trail’s end, my watch recorded 2.1 miles of distance. Excited to keep going, I turned around and ran back to the campground. The run cleared all of the previous day’s exhaustion. It was go time.

Training New York’s State Officer team was fantastic. Oswegatchie had us in a state of focus. Meeting room windows displayed a misty view of Oswegatchie’s forests and lakes. The remoteness of the environment was the perfect place for the officers to focus on learning while I focused on teaching.

We got to know each other around dining tables and campfires. The team had a variety of backgrounds. One officer had a unique background for someone in her position. Melissa grew up in Queens, a borough of New York City. Her high school specialized in Career Technical Education– teaching students career skills/certifications. Agriculture education and FFA was one of the many programs students could choose at John Bowne High School. The stark contrast between my upbringing and Melissa’s piqued my interest. I asked a million questions.

The things Melissa told me about New York City were intriguing. New York has a reputation at home: a big dirty city. News about New York City on the West Coast is typically about crime and homelessness. I had told friends, “I would like to visit New York City once, just to see it.” Melissa’s description of the city started to change that.

Melissa talked about her home like a human being. I realized teleprompter readers, edited news articles, and textbooks were my only other sources of information on the city. She talked about the food, the people, and the lifestyles they lived. As someone who finds comfort in natural silence, I was intrigued when I learned silence makes Melissa uncomfortable. The city conditioned her to be comforted by background noise. She said the stereotypical dangers (being followed, crime, etc.) were parts of life the people learn to navigate – similar to tornados in Oklahoma.

Melissa’s stories were like fuel for another adventure. Ms.T, New York FFA’s Executive Secretary, could see the wheels turning in my head. Without asking, she explained the cheapest and easiest way to get into New York City via car and train. We concluded training on a Tuesday night. On Wednesday morning I woke up and brought my laptop to breakfast. Ms. T showed me which train ticket to buy and helped find a hotel near Time Square. Before I left Oswegatchie there was one thing left to do.

New York FFA’s State Advisor, a full-time resident at Oswegatchie, told me how to run the circumference of Long Pond. She warned it was easy to get lost by missing turns in the trail, but I was up for the challenge. A four-mile run turned into six miles when I missed a turn. My friend and marathon coach, Betsy, said those were “bonus miles.” I couldn’t have agreed more. Weaving through greenery and dodging rocks had me in a flow state. After six miles I was on a runner's high like no other. That night I wrote:

“Running on soft new trails through beautiful woods among lakes and rivers is indescribable. The novelty of the trail makes the run engaging. The softness of the Earth makes it enjoyable. The scenery induces soft-fascination which distracts from heavy breathing. The whole experience made me want to drop everything, move to NY, and train for an ultra-marathon.”

After goodbyes and a quick shower, I hit the road. My destination was four hours southeast, a town called Croaton-on-Hudson. Once there I parked the rental car, walked to a train station, and waited for my train to arrive. While waiting I called my dad to tell him my plans. He was understandably concerned about his son visiting New York City alone. When the train arrived I boarded. The next forty minutes were spent watching the Hudson River through a window. The tracks ran along the river before plunging into a tunnel at the city’s edge. The train was dark for about ten minutes until it stopped at the platform. My first look at New York City was from the top of the escalator. It felt alien.

Imagine driving next to a tree orchard or grape vineyard on the interstate. Speeding by straight rows of trees gives glimpses of exposed earth between the plants. Walking through New York City is similar, except the trees are buildings that reach hundreds of feet into the sky and the exposed earth is covered in concrete. The city is a perfect grid where buildings and streets seem never-ending.

I walked towards my hotel in Time Square, one of the busiest places in the city. Navigating the sidewalk required squeezing between pedestrians and street performers. The street roared with chatter like a crowded concert venue. Massive screens advertised everything from celebrities to video games. It was like walking through a movie. Eventually, the hotel sign appeared through the crowd. I checked in and went to my room.

The room was tiny and had no exterior windows. The only noise came from the air vent in the ceiling. When the silence reached my ears I realized how overwhelming the walk to Time Square was. I knew I was safe but my mind was in fight or flight mode. The dichotomy of Oswegatchie and New York City on the same day was unpleasant. All I wanted to do was sleep. Was Dad right to be concerned?

The next morning I considered the circumstances. I had one shot to see New York City. That shot would be gone at 4:00 p.m. when my train back to Croaton departed. Nearly every attraction on my bucket list was within a four-mile radius. WHOOP informed me I was 87% recovered from the previous day’s (glorious) run. No matter how off-putting or uncomfortable the city felt, I would have been an idiot to do anything but see where my feet could take me.

A hotel worker helped me check my backpack downstairs. I left the hotel and found a bagel shop on 7th Avenue. The shop was standing room only, shoulder to shoulder. After a short wait, I received the most delicious bagel with locks (salmon) and a coffee. Ironically, Starbucks was the only nearby place to sit so I enjoyed an authentic New York bagel in a corporate chain’s dining area. The delicious food began to lift my spirits.

Another short walk led to the top-ranked attraction in America – the Empire State Building. When you think Empire State Building you probably think about the view from the top, but a visit is much more. Before reaching the elevators, tourists walk through a museum that tells the building’s story from 1931 to the present. The building was the tallest in the world upon completion despite the Great Depression. It is a symbol of achievement in dark times. The tour ended in the 102nd floor’s viewing room. 

I walked around the room to see all angles of the city. The One World Trade Center (Freedom Tower) stood tall and mighty to the south. Central Park sprawled across the city to the north. Skyscrapers occupied land as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful in its own way. Beauty is like a spectrum with two ends. One end holds natural, untouched beauty. The other end holds the beauty of human creation – the perfection of a building like the Empire State Building coexisting with the chaos of ten million people in the same place. I had been immersed in both extremes within twenty-four hours. What a life.

After exiting the Empire State Building I walked almost four miles south to the September 11th Museum and Memorial. An audio-guided tour walked me through every detail of the attacks big and small. As I walked I realized I was in the minority of visitors who were not alive for 9/11. The memorial made the tragedy feel real to me. I couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like for them.

The rest of the day was spent stumbling into new places and experiences. I saw Wall Street’s bull, the New York Stock Exchange, Radio City Music Hall, and the Flatiron Building. Lunch featured a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel and a slice of New York Pizza. Before riding the subway to the train station I did a handstand in Central Park and bought a chocolate chip cookie.

On the train ride out of the city, it occurred to me I hadn’t had a real conversation all day. At the 9/11 Museum, a security worker and I exchanged jokes about my huge belt buckle, but everyone else was too wrapped up in their day to chat. It was a monumental day of life surrounded by millions of people, shared with none. It was lonely. The next night I began to read from a book I bought at the Empire State Building gift shop. This is the first sentence:

“On any person who desires such queer prizes, New York will bestow the gift of loneliness and the gift of privacy.” – E.B. White (author of Charlotte's Web)

I connected with that sentence at a core level. My day alone in New York City will always hold a unique place in my memory. I saw the beauty of human creation at its peak, ate the most delicious baked goods in the world, and walked on the grounds of tragedy. But surrounded by over 8 million people, I was lonely. It was almost as if I was running in the woods of Oswegatchie again.

The fast, arguably unsustainable, pace of the last three months has been exhausting, but invaluable. Training State Officers has been gratifying. Training my body has been rewarding. Being exposed to new environments has changed my worldview. My ag teacher’s funeral was a dark reminder of human connection. New York was a bizarre reminder of loneliness. What’s the takeaway? If a picture paints a thousand words, an experience is like all the books ever written. Take in as many of them as you can because when the train leaves, who knows if it’s ever coming back.

Inspired by:

1. “Here is New York” by E.B. White.

2. The wilderness of Oswegatchie (shoutout to those 1946 ag teachers).

3. All of the wonderful people I worked with at New York FFA and Connecticut FFA.