The infamous Coney Island Cyclone.

I can’t believe the emotional roller coaster I feel that I’ve been on regarding the #Sandyaftermath. The pull to be in New York, in my city, has been strong but the fear of what it will be like to actually be there is scary.

I follow a lot of fitness bloggers/tweeters and to see that the NYC ING Marathon was on….and then wasn’t (with the palpable passion surrounding both sides of the coin) added to my angst.  I feel awful for many of my running friends that trained for the epic event, I do feel that the cancellation was the right thing to do.  That’s about all I’ll say about this controversy at this time.  Too much drama already.

The area of Brooklyn where I plan to return (I can’t say visit yet) was not badly affected by Sandy but so many other areas have been harder hit than I ever expected.  I have friends without lights, heat, water and basic shelter.  There are so many people that have lost everything and it seems unfathomable.

It’s been wonderful how communities have banded together in support.  Tweets and Facebook pages of individuals offering rooms to friends, companies trucking in food, people donating money, time, food and supplies have made me scared about the depths of destruction yet hopeful for recovery in both word and deed.

Honestly, it’s more likely than not that I’ll be on a plane home on Friday.  I’ve been planning this trip back home since I moved to California in July.  In the past few weeks, I mentally planned the things I wanted to do, see and blog about when I finally got home to my shining star of a city.  Some of the things that seemed so important just last week seem so embarrassingly superficial right now.

I look forward to the prospect of seeing my friends and family from home but I can’t help but feel guilty that I want to go back and see the city that I left, and I won’t.  It’s hard to make peace with the fact that I’m going to have my own personal #sandyaftermath recovery and it will be unlike any other New Yorker I know.