How exactly does one go from a metropolis of 1.6 million to a town of 14,000? Well, necessity is the mother of…prevention? Let’s rewind back to March. With more and more COVID cases confirmed in NYC, it felt like the walls were closing in on my tiny apartment from which I had to work from home starting on March 11th. The sight of temporary field hospitals became a regular occurrence on my runs in Central Park. I went to the grocery store 15 minutes before closing to avoid lines and crowds. I lived in a mixed state of anxiety and appreciation, each evening spilling out my apartment window clanging a butter knife on the railing of my fire escape during the 7pm “clap for essential workers.”
So, “just for two weeks or so,” my boyfriend (he goes by “Colin”) and I resided at his childhood home in Connecticut. Two weeks turned into two months, but during this time, Colin bought me a bike case for traveling with my bike. I figured I’d use it later that summer. Instead, it still smells like the big-enough-to-drape-over-a-grand-piano plastic it arrived in.
In mid-June, I returned to NYC to start packing my belongings. As COVID-19 spread to other states, it became clear that my company of over 100,000 would not be returning to the office any time soon. It also became clear that, despite the mass exodus of NYC, we still could not afford an apartment that could accommodate two people working from home.
How exactly does one go from a metropolis of 1.6 million to a town of 14,000? Well, necessity is the mother of…prevention? Let’s rewind back to March. With more and more COVID cases confirmed in NYC, it felt like the walls were closing in on my tiny apartment from which I had to work from home starting on March 11th. The sight of temporary field hospitals became a regular occurrence on my runs in Central Park. I went to the grocery store 15 minutes before closing to avoid lines and crowds. I lived in a mixed state of anxiety and appreciation, each evening spilling out my apartment window clanging a butter knife on the railing of my fire escape during the 7pm “clap for essential workers.”
Colin and I agreed that this was an opportunity where we could live wherever we want and not have to change jobs. When ever does that happen?! So long as we could transport all of our things there in a U-Haul (flying was out of the question), the world (or, the Northeast!) was ours.
Having visited Exeter for two charity bike rides (organized by Ted & Laura King), and having spent a few weekends in Colin’s parents’ Maine house a half hour away, we started looking at places in Exeter, NH. It’s a place where the removal of the historic Theatre Marquee was the talk of the town and the locals snub the luxury condos that were recently built. It’s a place where you can’t help but notice the goings-on of your neighbors, because you share the same street. It’s a town where you half expect the gift shop to be spelled “shoppe”, but it’s just modern enough that the same shop carries iPhone cases and wine bags that read “I make pour decisions.” It’s a place where you get to know the old man who wears a shirt that reads “Chicken Whisperer” and sells eggs at the farmers market. Where the hippie-looking farmer (hi, Josh!) sells the freshest “Mirthful Mix” lettuce you’ve ever tasted. Where the pork farmer can tell you when your tenderloin was, um, harvested, shall we say.
We ended up here – on June 6, officially – because we found a Colonial built in 1900 that offers enough space for us to work from home. It even has some separation in its two levels (and two bathrooms, a huge plus!). Technically, it is half of a colonial, as we share the other half with our landlady. Speaking of our landlady, she was nice enough to accommodate a 4-month lease, which has turned into a 10 month lease (so far, we are committed through April 30, 2021.) (Post edit: we are now on a month-to-month basis!)
We also ended up here because we knew the riding and running would be pretty great. Turns out, we didn’t know how great! The ability to go in any direction – north, northwest, west northwest, etc. – is an absolute novelty after 10 years of only riding north. Now, we can head 10 miles east to the ocean and do a flat coastal route, or we can ride in any other direction to forests, farms, and hillier terrain. Cars are friendly, and within a warmup’s distance, one can do up to 20 minute stretches of uninterrupted roads. It’s equally as accommodating to running, and within 6 minutes, you can find yourself on a bed of pine needles immersed in a mature growth forest. In the same amount of time, you can mountain bike to over 20 miles of trails in “Fort Rock”, and it’s not uncommon to stop and have a conversation mid-ride. As for swimming, it’s a 25 minute drive to the pool and only a five minute walk to the local coffee shop, book store, and two, yes two, chocolate shops.
It’s been almost 7 months to the date, and so far, I’ve loved it. I love how the seasonal produce marks the changing of seasons, especially with the cancellation of races leaving a void of feeling as if time has elapsed. Tomatoes in summer salads are replaced by beets in October. Peach picking in July gives way to apple picking in September. The weather has been mostly kind, and I have a mountain bike (more on that in another post!) and snowshoes when it gets cold and snowy.
Now that a vaccine is on the way, I’m hopeful that I’ll get to race again in the summer of 2021. With the future a little less hazy, I’m even looking forward to the headaches of air travel, setting up lodging, and deciding on a race schedule. I’m anxious to hug my friends and family again (especially after races!) And I’m eager, too, to use that new bike case.
