The Mayor of Central Park


Did I ever tell you about the time I met the mayor of Central Park? That's right, the mayor. Of Central Park.

It wasn't the first time. Back w hen I lived in NYC in the 80s, it was a grittier time. A woman had been gang raped at the 102nd st. park transverse by a group of boys who said they were "wilding" -- and while who attacked her has since been disputed, a dense fog of fear fell over the park that year. I was a runner. I ran at night. In the summer, the park is closed to cars and the light doesn't fade till almost 9 p.m. Despite the ozone alerts, the threat of violent assault and the thick air, I ran daily through the park.

One day I noticed an older man with a white handle bar moustache and white hair, walking around the reservoir the wrong way. He waved. I didn't wave back. Then I saw him the next day. He waved. This time, I waved, too. No matter what time of day, or how often I ran, he was always there, a sort of safe harbor during a rough time for the park.

I moved away. I ran in San Francisco. But when I came back to see my mother, I would run to the reservoir. The reservoir run is as long as you want it to be. It's a 1.3 mile loop. In my younger years, I would run around the loop five or six times. Now I run around once or twice. The run is around the reservoir, counter clockwise on a dirt track. In rain, the track is soggy. In summer it's fast and dry. There are no dogs allowed, no strollers, no distractions from the pure act of running. Or walking.

It wasn't always like this. Alberto Arroyo started the runs around the reservoir. He was the first one. He used to be a boxer, years ago. He ran for exercise around the park. Supposedly, he ran with Jackie O and even Madonna.

For his service of making the park safe for running, he was given a medal and declared the Mayor of Central Park. He wears that medal around his neck; you can see it when he walks. If you want the full story, it's up on the east side of the reservoir, near the water fountains. The newspaper story, and a picture of Alberto Arroyo, getting his medal.

About a year ago I was back in NYC and went for a run in the afternoon. There was Alberto. I stopped him and shook his hand. "Where have you been?" he asked. I explained I now lived on the other coast. He smiled and kept on walking.