Ben was running north along the East River near NYU Langone when a frantic man jumped in from of him asking if Ben saw a woman in a hospital gown on the esplanade. Before Ben could determine if the man was okay, he added that his wife had walked out of the ER after being told she had miscarried. He had stepped out of the room to talk with the doctor and didn’t see he leave. You can’t miss her. She has long red hair in a braid, about 5’9”. She loves the esplanade, he added. Ben loved running along the cast iron rail and iron moorings, remnants from a time long gone when those moorings held the boats safely and securely in place.

 

Ben hadn’t passed her, so he continued running north. He saw the woman near the UN, standing on a bench at the river’s edge. 

 

Your husband is worried about you, Ben said, as he approached cautiously.

 

One minute we were excited for the ultrasound, she said, and the next they were talking about how to remove our baby. She was cradling her belly.

 

The man found them and got up on the bench and hugged his wife. Ben set off, running toward the 59th St. Bridge which would take him back to his home in Queens. Running had saved him after his sister Emma’s suicide. When the doctors told him and Sandy that she had miscarried, instead of turning toward Sandy, Ben disappeared into longer and longer runs.

 

Sandy went to stay with her mother in Chicago. On his third day alone, Ben underwent a vasectomy. He knew he could not keep life from breaking him, but he wanted to give it fewer opportunities. She and Ben divorced three months later.