What I do when I'm not running long on Sundays

Since my physical therapist has forbidden me to run for the time being, I've been cross training at the gym -- lots of swimming and spinning and weights and time on the elliptical and ARC trainers -- and this also means no more long runs on Sunday mornings. So instead, I've been pounding the pavement looking for apartments. (Probably "pounding the pavement" isn't the best thing to be doing on plantar fasciitis-aggravated feet, but at least I'm not running.) Unfortunately I can't consider these hours of walking cross training (my heart rate never surpasses 60 percent of its maximum when I walk -- yes, I've measured it -- so I'm not even burning fat calories let alone working out my heart and lungs), but I like to consider it five hours of at least dynamic stretching.

Now, the first thing you notice about the New York City real estate market -- well, the second thing after the exorbitant prices for tiny apartments -- is that listing agents lie. About everything. Like a two-bedroom apartment doesn't actually have two bedrooms. It has one bedroom. And a dining area the tenants have turned into a bedroom for a three year-old. (Or a doll or some other being that doesn't exceed 24 inches in length.) Of course, the game is up the second the potential buyer walks in -- it's not like you can actually keep up the charade that the breakfast nook that holds all of a potted plant is actually a bedroom. So why not just call it like it is?

Apartments that actually have two bedrooms are, in fact, called "true" two bedrooms. The implication being that this listing agent is actually telling the truth? So it's okay to lie? Does it also work if you lie to the mortgage broker about your salary? And your credit history? What fun that would be.

Then there's the "just minutes from the subway" line (most of New York City being slavishly dependent on the subways) that agents love to trot out when describing apartments. A fair number of these listing agents need to seriously reassess. Take it from this marathoner that a mile from the subway is not a walkable distance twice a day, five days a week for the average commuter and that walk certainly does not fall into the generally accepted definition of "minutes." Can I say it took me "minutes" to run the New York City marathon? I mean, just 244 of them.

And lastly, I'd like to sound the wake up call to the condo developers who remain convinced their target demographic consists of hobbits. This is not so. I should not have to suck in my stomach when mounting the stairs. Nor should I ever find myself standing in a bedroom the size of my gym locker. And those tiny little sinks you find in bathrooms in Chinese restaurants? Not luxury condo material. Really, folks.