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Almost a week separated from crossing the finish line and I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that I ran 26.2 miles through my favorite city in the world only to learn that it’s an even better place than I originally thought.

And trust me; I was already head-over-heels in love.

Back in August my friend Kerry presented me with an opportunity I couldn’t refuse: a chance to run in the TCS New York City Marathon without having to qualify, win a lottery or raise any money. I joined #TeamULTRA and represented Michelob Ultra amongst 50,000 other marathoners scampering across the five boroughs.

Despite my love of running and my consistent schedule of hitting the trails, I knew this wouldn’t be easy; when I started training, I never ran more than 7 miles at a time. Furthermore, I have an erratic work/life schedule and I knew that eventually I’d be moving – a task that in itself is a full-time job here.

But running the marathon here was something I’ve always wanted to do. This was too good to pass up and short of a severe injury or traumatic life event, there was nothing that could stop me from pursuing this.

I could go on to document the training schedule I created for myself, the run itself and the aftermath but instead, here are a few frequently asked questions that I’ve fielded since crossing the finish line on Sunday.


“So, how was it?”
Physically and emotionally overwhelming in the best way possible. The experience far exceeded my expectations and is something I’d recommend to anyone.

“What was your favorite part?”
As far as overall, having my family there to cheer me on was special but I sobbed like a child after I finished as a result of the love I felt throughout the five boroughs. People cheering, making noise, offering food and drinks, holding signs… it was incredible. And Sunday wasn’t the nicest day weather-wise; it was colder than expected and the rain really never let-up. You wouldn’t have known that based on the crowd’s spirit.

I have to mention as well that multiple people told me I’d hate the Bronx. If you look at my mile-by-mile breakdown, I ran some of my fastest miles up there. My playlist synced to my run perfectly so that just as I was crossing the Willis Ave. Bridge I heard The Tramps’ “Disco Inferno.” Of course, it was on my playlist because I’m a diehard Yankees fan and those overtures of “Bern, baby bern!” brought back a lot of great memories from Yankee legend Bernie Williams.


“What was the most difficult part?”
Overall the mental game you play as you attempt to overcome physical shortcomings. I cramped and tightened up quite a bit during the run; while it slowed me down once I never stopped and I escaped injury-free.

“How are you feeling?”
Great, thanks! I bought a new pair of running shoes and should be back on a treadmill this weekend. I think not over-training and eating clean helped me to recover quickly.


“Will you do it again?”
Never say never but probably not. It’d be tough to top this experience, one which despite still attempting to fully process I am extremely grateful for.

Now this is a story all about how my Saturday got flipped-turned upside down. Royalty and the west coast are not involved but Philadelphia serves as one of the backdrops.

The plan was simple: take an early afternoon Amtrak to Philadelphia, attend the wedding of friend/former intern/past-contributor Jessie Holeva, enjoy the reception and catch a train back to Penn Station that would return me to New York well before either last call.

Things went awry from the get-go. What should’ve been a 20 minute commute on the subway to Penn took over double that thanks to weekend construction. I missed my 2:05 train and rebooked for 3:07. But I wasn’t fazed; I figured I’d use the time to run upstairs to our studio, use the restroom, take a deep breath and then head back downstairs.

Right before I did, I went to the men’s room one more time. Our private restroom by the studio appeared occupied so I used the bathroom that the entire floor has access to. Everything was fine until I flushed the toilet. They’re brand new and so the flusher is electric. But it malfunctioned and wouldn’t stop flushing.

Thankfully I bolted out of the stall before any damage was done to me, but that’s not to say that by the time the toilet shut off the restroom wasn’t filled with a few inches of sitting water. I took the appropriate measure of alerting our chief engineer, put myself back together and made it just in the nick of time to my departing train.

The ride down was smooth, pleasant and scenic. If you’re wondering, Amtrak does have Bloody Mary mix; the food cart offers the serviceable Mr. and Mrs. T’s.

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Upon arrival at the 30th Street Station I was pleased to find out that the convenience store sells greeting cards, a perfect look for the single bachelor en route to a wedding without one. A few minutes after checking out I met my Uber driver, who drove me 20 minutes north of Philly to Cabrini University.

This was my first time on campus and I have to say, I was impressed. It is scenic and close to the big city yet feels somewhat secluded and tucked away, which I enjoyed. The ceremony and reception were fantastic; it was great to reconnect with a few old friends and meet a few more new ones. Jessie looked stunning and of course I’m very happy for her and Justin who fun fact, once put me up for the night after I covered a Young The Giant/Grouplove show in the City of Brotherly Love (another story for another blog).

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The reception wrapped at 11 and so I grabbed another Uber to head back to 30th Street for my 12:05 am departure. Upon my arrival I was greeted by a closed bar inside the station and then just before I thought we were boarding… a delay.

A two-hour delay.

So where did I go? Following a failed attempt to drink a pint next door inside a Irish pub, I ordered another Uber en route to The Franklin Bar, a speakeasy downtown. There I met a patron from Long Island City who was keeping the bartender, her on-and-off again boyfriend, company. I ended up becoming friends with everyone in the place, stayed until last call and eventually Uber’d back to the station where I encountered almost no food options and… you guessed it, another delay.

My train back to New York eventually left after 3 am. I arrived at Penn Station at quarter to 5 am. Following two Uber drivers cancelling on me and a random guy throwing water on me, I hailed a cab.

And I yelled to the cabbie “Yo homes smell ya later!” I walked in to my bodega; I was finally there. Turkey on a whole wheat wrap; Philly can’t compare.

I am a month separated from leaving my first apartment in New York City, and I’m still having withdrawals. Just yesterday I was speaking at a conference and I jumped at the chance to reminisce with two attendees who live in my old neighborhood about how wonderful it is and how much I miss it.

Like most people I would assume, the process of apartment hunting in the city was overwhelming. Thankfully I had help from a current resident (and ex-girlfriend) who one day found one of those too-good-to-be-true Craigslist ads. But the open house was on a Sunday and so we figured it couldn’t hurt to go check the place out.

A few weeks later, I would call that place on 83rd and Amsterdam home. It was a one-bedroom on the second-floor of a walk-up. I had every grocery store I could desire within 10 blocks, the best bodega in the city across the street and two amazing parks on each side of me.

I could spend days recalling all of the memories created in that apartment and neighborhood – from entertaining friends and family to having a (relatively) quiet place that I could spend time in with my own thoughts. I couldn’t have practically scripted my introduction to Manhattan any better.

Sadly, good things come to an end and rent prices aren’t getting cheaper. When the opportunity arose to move-in with my best friend from high school in a brand new high-rise downtown and actually save a few dollars, I jumped.

This is far from a “cry-for-me” tale; life down in the Financial District isn’t too shabby. I traded my Central Park runs for new routes that take me past the Seaport, the Statue of Liberty and One World Trade Center. I’ve already found two, new reliable bodegas. And the grocery shopping is a work-in-progress but progressing nonetheless.

Rather this is an ode to my old hood, which is kind of funny because it’s only a few miles from my new spot. But that’s the beauty of this city; you only need to travel a couple of subway stops to find a brand new experience and create a whole new story.

That said, I’m only a month in on a two-year lease. Maybe it won’t stack up to the five I spent on the Upper West Side, but I can say with certainty that I can’t wait to find out

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I’m not sure where to begin on this one.

Yunno what? Let’s start at the beginning. It was August 1, 2007. I was living in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. Everything was new: the city (a college town that was slow to evolve because of local traditions), the state (running the gamut from the bad: ‘Wait, the state runs the liquor stores and I can’t buy a six-pack at the gas station?’ to the good: ‘Sheetz! Wawa!’) and of course the job.

Probably one of the most frequently asked questions I field, followed by “Who was your favorite celebrity to interview?” and “Which celebrity was a jerk?” is, “Why would you move to Wilkes-Barre for a Top 40 radio show?”

First, the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton metro is a top 80 market for radio and top 50 for television. Second, the cost of living is low. Third, there’s a venue in the area to host almost any size show. Fourth, you’re pretty close to both New York and Philadelphia.

And so in the summer of 2007, a kid fresh out of Syracuse University with a fake tan, curly afro and questionable soul patch packed up his Kia Rav 4 and drove with his father to Wilkes-Barre. My Dad bought me new furniture and helped me find a studio apartment in downtown (excuse me, Center City) Wilkes-Barre, right by a new movie theater that the locals seemed pretty excited about.

I could have never imagined what would transpire over the following 10 years, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Look, 10 years at any company let alone the first one you work for out of college, is a long time. But 10 years at the same media company… on the same radio station? That’s practically an eternity.

So a few weeks ago, I returned to Scranton and spent a weekend celebrating the accomplishment: a decade on 97.1/95.7 BHT and 10 years with Cumulus Media.

It’s been an incredible journey. Here’s to it not ending anytime soon.


I can’t believe we’re less than a month away from Pumpkin Spice Lattes and football weekends. I detest humidity and absolutely love fall (not necessarily for the PSLs though; do you know what they put in those things?) but still am taken aback at how quick summer flew by.

Yes, I have no probably saying “flew” as opposed to “flying” because I’m not a beach person and the Yankees are giving me a reason to anticipate competitive September and October baseball. I do love summer weekends up in the Bronx though, and that’s where I spent the majority of my final July weekend. The Yanks won in walk-off fashion on that Saturday; a perfect, cool day to catch a game in Center Field, even if I didn’t score a Yankees camouflage cap (free giveaway to the first 18,000 fans that were age 21 or older). Then Sunday, I drove with a buddy up to Riverdale so I could check out a few apartments. I fell in love with the neighborhood: family-friendly, beautiful Van Cortlandt Park, plenty of bars and restaurants and easy access to Manhattan via Metro North.

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With my lease up on the Upper West Side October 1, that may be perhaps the one reason I definitely don’t want summer to pass much quicker. Short of a miracle, a change in location looks imminent, but I really love this neighborhood. Hopefully I don’t move but if so, it has been a fantastic five-year run on the UWS. Catching Sunday sunsets from the Boat Basin Café is just one of the many reasons why.

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It was quite appropriate that before I made my third trip back to Niagara Falls, New York in six weeks (yes that’s every-other-weekend for those keeping score at home), I ran a 5K.

Of course, the reason I returned home is for my Mother’s church’s picnic, which I attend annually. The 5K, held inside Yankee Stadium, benefitted Damon Runyon for cancer research. For those unaware, my Mom is a two-time breast cancer survivor.

So after a late night at work and only about an hour or so of sleep, I woke up and chugged a coffee before wrapping myself in Yankees Dri-Fit paraphernalia and hopping in an Uber. I made it up to the Bronx in near-record time thanks to the lack-of-traffic on the Westside Highway. The heat I signed up for was 9:50 am.

Overall, the event was fantastic. This was my second Runyon 5K but the feeling of stepping on to the hallowed field of Yankee Stadium was just as exciting as the first time. What made this year’s installment even cooler was that the route brought you around the warning track twice; in 2014 you only were able to run one lap on the field.

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Not as cool: the two trips you make up the steps at Yankee Stadium, from the Great Hall to the 300 level, but we don’t need to dwell on that.

As I ran through the opening in center field and on to the dirt, I began to feel like a little kid agian. I wasn’t trying to hit a certain finish time (although I still finished sub-30 minutes) so I took it all in: the grass, the dugouts, the view from the infield. I stopped to take selfies, posed behind home plate and even “robbed a home-run” out in right field.


Some participate as a part of a team while others raise money individually. I decided not to tell anyone about my decision to run or solicit donations ahead of time for a couple of reasons. First, with the quick turnaround time, I wanted to make sure that I made the race! Second, there are a lot of people and organizations that are constantly trying to raise funds, and I just didn’t feel comfortable asking for any money.

With that said, I still felt that it was important to participate and share my experience. Events like these are critical to nonprofit organizations, and hopefully this can serve as an example that not donating or raising money isn’t an excuse to sit on the sidelines.

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Or perhaps better stated for this story, in the dugout.

As the great philosopher Michael Gary Scott once stated, “Ain’t no party, like a Scranton party.”

And with that, let me tell you about my whirlwind weekend in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

I’ve had the honor of hosting a radio show on WBHT-FM for almost 10 years now. It was my first gig out of high school. And it let my career to places I never could have imagined (especially starting in Scranton, Pennsylvania). And last weekend, a new era of the station launched with its rebrand as “97.1/95.7 BHT” – a new name to reflect the 95.7 WBHD simulcast that covers the northern part of the market.

Straight off an all-nighter, I hopped aboard an 8:30 am bus out of Port Authority that didn’t get in to downtown Wilkes Barre until noon. I grabbed a venti Starbucks, headed to my hotel and grabbed a quick mile run on a treadmill. A hair, makeup and wardrobe change later I was out the door to my next stop: the radio station. I had to meet some new staffers, see a few familiar faces and prep for my return to WBRE-TV’s “PA Live.”

For years I checked in to the NBC affiliate’s lifestyle show with “The Ralphie Report,” a weekly recap of entertainment stories I was covering. It had been a while since I was on the show but the crew welcomed me back with open arms. I talked about the upcoming rebrand and promoted the big party later in the evening at The Woodlands.

The party lasted well in to the night, but I had to keep the train on the rails: a busy Saturday awaited me. In the span of a day I made four different stops, including PNC Field where I threw out the first pitch for the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre RailRiders game.


We ended the work day at La Tolteca, a Mexican restaurant that satisfied my Cinco de Mayo (Seis?) guac and marg cravings.

Following a quick visit to Mohegan Sun Pocono, I retired back to my room. Thankfully Sunday was a bit chiller: brunch, a bus back to the city and a nice 5.6 mile run in Central Park as the sun set on yet another eventful weekend.

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I certainly didn’t need another confirmation, but that Michael Scott sure hit the nail on the head.

I started last week with an expired passport. I ended it in Sint Maarten celebrating the marriage of my buddy Mark and his lovely wife Sarah.

Obviously I knew about the wedding for a while and I was aware that my passport would lose its validity in February. The problem was that my passport actually had the wrong birthday on it (apparently a common mistake if you go to a post office for the application) and I waited until a week before the expiration to mail it in.

Our government was kind enough to mail it back with a new application. I called, discussed my options with an agent and eventually decided my best bet was to renew at the Passport Office in Manhattan, which typically turns around a new one in 24 hours. Yes, you read that correctly.

And so last Friday morning I boarded a non-stop flight to the island. I proceeded to eat, drink, swim and dance with old and new friends. It was a nice escape; my first destination wedding and hopefully not my last.

The four most common reactions to my Instagram posts from the weekend:

1.) “Your photos looked awesome!”
Thanks – definitely not too difficult when you’re on an island in the Caribbean.


2.) “Were those planes really flying that close to the beach?”
They sure were. That’s Maho Beach, recommended to me by multiple people. Me and two other friends took a cab there for a few drinks and to watch the planes land. Quite a sight!

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3.) “I can’t get over you watching the Yankees at the beach.”
I mean, this shouldn’t surprise you.

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4.) “Do you always drink Bloody Marys?”
Yes – they were even referred to on the trip by one person as my “accessory.”

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I mean, worse things could be associated with me.

So how great is this Yankees’ season going so far?

Ok, let’s hope I didn’t jinx it.

I had the pleasure of attending the home opener up in the Bronx last month with one of my best friends along with my sister and some of her co-workers. Then I returned to the Bronx for the first Saturday and Sunday games at the Stadium this season. Chances are by now you know that any weekend me and the Yankees are both in the city, I’ll be heading north to the BX.

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For the home opener and the Saturday game I bought the newly-installed Pinstripe Pass. This ticket is really a response to my generation’s desire to share unique experiences with friends both in-person and online.

What I’ve always loved about the new Stadium since it opened in 2009 is the open corridors and standing room only areas, including the Batter’s Eye Café, which offers an awesome view of the ballpark from center field. The Yankees expanded that café platform for the new season. Also changed are the obstructed view bleacher seats, which were the sections on each side of the 1893 Club (formerly Mohegan Sun Sports Bar). Those benches were demolished and tiered terraces were installed in their place. Each terrace features a full-bar, TVs and drink rails with power and USB outlets.

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But wait… there’s more! The Pinstripe Pass also comes with a free 12 oz beer or non-alcoholic beverage.

And if you get there early enough, you may even see Aaron Judge crush a batting practice home run in to a one of the HD TVs.


The Yankees won all three games I’ve been to this year; the team has a great home record. Heck, it’s a good record period – the Bronx Bombers are first in the division. Judge is leading the league in home runs and was the American League Rookie Of The Month for April.

Something tells me the Yankees will be selling plenty of Pinstripe Passes this year… should help pay for some of those new TVs they might need in center field.

I still can’t believe they spent five-and-a-half minutes in the middle of a four-hour radio show talking about my two fingers.

Okay, let me backup and explain.

Monday night I was searching through photos on my BlackBerry (go ahead, roll your eyes) and I came across this shot I took of the skyline when I was driving over the RFK Bridge Sunday. I had landed earlier at JFK from my weekend trip to Denver and was riding in a car back to Manhattan with a few friends.

I thought the photo might work well on the radio station’s Instagram and so I loaded it in to the app and started messing with the filters. I landed on a final product that for the most part, I was satisfied with.

“Most part” gets thrown in there because when I was done changing the settings, I noticed that the reflection of my index and middle finger, which I wrapped around the back of the phone to stabilize it, was now noticeable in the photo.

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Did it matter? Ultimately I naively thought that I was the only one who would notice it enough to detract from the cityscape. So I posted it, people started to like it and I continued on with my show.

Fast forward to Tuesday morning at 11 am. I woke up, looked at my phone and saw 8 missed calls. Every call was from either a private number (which the studio hotline comes up as) or Johnny on the Street.

Turns out that the reflection mattered, at least to Todd and Jayde. In the 8 am hour, right in the middle of the show and on a day when later that hour Ed Sheeran would join the program, the entire cast spent five-and-a-half minutes contemplating what was in the photo.

Jayde guessed a falafel before finally admitting that she thought it looked like “female genitalia.” Annie wondered if it was a fortune cookie. Johnny’s guess was along the lines of Jayde’s but then he went with lips. Monk and Todd joined in on that sentiment… perhaps wax, candy lips? No, too wide they concluded.

How would they really know that?


Anyways, Todd and the crew eventually settled on fingers… the kind that look like everything but fingers. After that, the discussion turned to whether or not I realized the reflection when I posted it.

“Nah I don’t even think he saw it,” Todd stated definitively.

I’ll tell you what I didn’t see: writing a 400 word blog post about a five-and-a-half minute conversation on the morning show about my two fingers.