Run 10 Feed 10 2013: A Play By Play.

5:45 am: My alarm clock goes off. I don't hear the noise, Ben does. He pokes me from his side of the bed until I'm alert enough to grab my phone from the bedside table.

5:48 am: I realize that it is still pitch black outside, and the sunrise time for New York City is approximately 6:43 am- by then, I will already be at the starting line. Must rethink plans to walk across the park and take west side train down to the pier.

6:00 am: Got my number, got my running shoes, got my ipod and my metrocard. Let's do this. But NOT before I snap a selfie...



6:02 am: Outside the building, I see that my hopes of the sun rising a little earlier this morning have been in vain. I make a mad dash for the 6 train. The one good thing about being out this early is that there is no traffic, so I'm able to interpret the 'WALK' and 'DON'T WALK' signals as 'RUN' and 'RUN FASTER'

6:12 am: Aboard the train. Can't sit down for fear that I will fall asleep. Grip the handrail and focus on keeping my eyes open. The train car is soon crowded with other runners. As I listen to them talk, I notice I may be the only one not planning to watch football later today.

6:27 am: 42nd Street. Shuttle to Times Square. The lights on the billboards are on and flashing away, but there are very few people on the streets, aside from the small groups of runners briskly walking across to 12th avenue. I can't help but unleash my inner tourist and look up at all the signs. It's bizarre to be able to do that and not run the risk of being bumped into or run over by a group of sight see-ers. I do not feel my usual hatred for Times Square.

6:43 am: We arrive at pier 84. The bag-check line is about as long as the race course. I never check bags at races. My philosophy: if it doesn't fit in my sweet Wristie, then I can probably survive without it until I get back home...



Of course, it usually helps that I have someone waiting for me at the finish line with a bag that I've packed the night before and persuaded them to bring to me. No such luck this time, I'll have to make do with what I've got.

6:52 am: The runners begin seeding themselves according to anticipated speed. There are 4 choices- 7 minute mile, 8 minute mile, 9 minute mile, and 10+ minute mile. I optimistically place myself with the 9-minute-milers. The lady next to me is eating a GU. I wish I'd thought to bring one. I KNEW I'd forget something

6:55 am: A middle school orchestra group serenades us with The Star Spangled Banner, and then shrieks upon realizing that a star from Glee is there to start us off! Unfortunately, my perpetual sleepy-ness and the fact that I had my earbuds in already prevented me from hearing WHICH star it was. Also, the sound was being broadcast over speakers, so even if I COULD have seen over the heads of my running-mates, I wouldn't have known where to look to see her. She takes a moment to wish us well, and...

7:10 am: WE'RE OFF!! Down the West Side Highway toward TriBeCa.

7:30 am (ish): I am approaching mile 2. I see the leader heading back toward the finish on the other side of the street. He is wearing a banana costume and has a goofy smile. I smile too.

7:41 am: I cross mile three. Halfway there!! We're instructed to stay on the right side of the path so that regular morning foot traffic can continue as usual. As a group, we are not so successful with this instruction.

8:08 am: Approaching the finish line. Take a deep breath and....FINISH STRONG! Whew! 6.2 miles in 58:06. A personal best!!

8:30 am: After walking the length of the pier to investigate the festivities and grab as much free stuff as I can (not kidding: LOVE the freebies they give away at races and race expos. Lotion? Plastic Pint Glass? Bumper Sticker? WOOT! What excellent and NECESSARY ITEMS!!) I head back east to get the 6. As I cross 12th Avenue, a traffic cop mentions that I look like I could run a little more. I laugh, partly because if my arms weren't so full of swag, I probably WOULD run a little of the way home, but also because, if he had seen me after last year's race,that is NOT what he would have said. Look at me, making progress.

9:00 am: Back on board the 6 train, fantasizing about the giant cup of coffee I will drink while I make Nutella-stuffed pancakes. And we're back to the usual Sunday routine.

Saturday.

I had too much wine last night. My company hosted a dinner for the employees in celebration of the birth of healthy twin boys and impending nuptials. Not for the same woman. It was nice to get out and bond with everybody in a non-school setting, and the food was delicious. However, it was one of those restaurants where, if your wine glass is nearly empty, the waiter is immediately at your side to fill it. Around 9:30, I noticed that my teeth were purple and that I was feeling intense love for everybody- including those who were not members of our staff and were trying to enjoy a quiet dinner. Luckily, M was on the same page. We made our way to the train station, and here I am this morning, trying to build up my motivation to leave the couch, go on a warm-up run, and pick up my packet and number for tomorrow's race!!

Last year at this time, I was set to run a 10k that I hoped to use as my proof of time in my first half marathon. I was still a relatively inexperienced runner, and 6+ miles seemed like a lot, but I felt ready- it was my first-ever race with a number. Very exciting. However, this race took place on the same day as the New York City Marathon Tune-Up, an 18 mile run in central park for those who planned to run the Marathon in November. In addition, the route that I was set to follow crossed paths with the Tune-Up. Neither race had particularly well-marked routes, so I ended up running from City Sports on 48th street, up through Central Park to Central Park NORTH (i.e. 110th street), back down through the park, out at columbus circle, and down to Pier 83. I was shocked at how long it took me to run those 6.2 miles. Turns out it was actually 8.3 miles, so the 20 extra minutes on my anticipated finish time were there for a reason. I was a little bummed that my proof of time was pretty skewed, but at the same time, I was on top of the world- I had run 8.3 miles without stopping- good for me!!

This year, I am registered for the same race, but the route we will be following is along the West Side Highway, so I feel confident in my abilities to NOT run off course. Furthermore, the Marathon Tune-Up was last weekend, so no danger of following the wrong runners. Pretty sweet.

Even sweeter- last year I had to quickly change my clothes and hostess a crazy Sunday brunch after my run. This year, I'm planning a pedicure.

Espresso and Dirty Pop.

Today, it was so humid outside that when M and I stepped out for a coffee, it felt a little like I could chew the air. Tomorrow is supposed to be worse. Eiw. Sticky.

But, if I'm being honest, that is the biggest complaint that I have about life at this moment. And if a little heat in September is as bad as it gets, then life must be pretty sweet. Yeah, life IS pretty sweet.

Today, I rediscovered my love of iced cappuccino. Those who know me know that I DO love my coffee, but every once in a while, a swift kick in the teeth from a shot of espresso is JUST what I need. Mmm. Energy. This afternoon I also rediscovered my *NSync station on Pandora. What is it about boy bands that instantly puts me in a better mood?? It can't just be me. Type "Bye Bye Bye" into your music engine and tell me you don't crack a smile as soon as you hear those opening notes.

On top that, I have an awesome job with really great co-workers and amazing kids, I am running a 5-mile race in Brooklyn this weekend, my Mom, Aunt and Sister are visiting at the end of the month, and I made a really awesome discount find at CVS last night...




RIGHT?!?! Bling Bling? Pirate? Now I DON'T HAVE TO CHOOSE!!

I'd gush more, but I have to run off to my early childhood math class. Normally, anything that has even the WORD "math" in it is enough to give me anxiety, but it appears this class doesn't go much beyond counting and identifying shapes. THAT, I think I can handle. Hopefully.

Danielle Steel FTW...

When my sister and I were in elementary school, we spent much of our time before and after school at our father's mother's house. In addition to being home to hundreds of porcelain dolls covered with see-through plastic sheets, plates which had been modge-podged with whatever holiday-themed fabric was available, and an above-ground pool with a fountain in the middle, it was also home to our father's youngest sister, Jessica. Jess is and always has been an avid fan of Danielle Steel. She has a copy of pretty much everything Danielle has ever written; some in both hardcover and paperback, as well as VHS recordings of all the made-for-TV movies which have been adapted from her novels. I have always been familiar with Danielle Steel.

I'm not [horribly] ashamed to admit that I, too, have read a few Danielle Steels. I usually pick them up at a yard sale or Goodwill, read them, and before long they are resigned to the same fate as before- sitting on a yard sale table or Goodwill shelf. Just this weekend I picked up one I had not seen before- a love story between a brooding, widowed, compassionate cardio-thoracic surgeon and a guarded, nationally acclaimed news anchor with trust issues. Sigh. Here's the thing though: I LOVE these books. I can't explain it. They generally have little to no literary merit, and consist primarily of characters who spend the vast majority of the book thinking what it MIGHT be like to be together, before they come across some sort of obstacle that makes it impossible, and then miraculously overcome the odds and live happily ever after. Of course, that isn't always the case- there are occasionally extenuating circumstances- they might happen to be on board the Titanic, for example.

In spite of all this, I can't help but get caught up in the stories, and if I see one I have not yet stolen from my Aunt Jessica's shelf or borrowed from a Goodwill, I can't help but pick it up and find out what happens. D.S. sure seems to know what she's doing, but I'll be damned if I can figure out HOW she does it.

Wedding Plan Winning.

This is a story about the most amazing wedding menu that there has ever been. In fact, oh mighty blogosphere, I challenge you to think of a time when you have had a more delicious meal at a wedding than the one I am about to describe. But before I get to the absolute amazing-ness that was this meal, and really this wedding as a whole, I must tell you about how I got to said wedding. It was the wedding of my best friend's older sister, which is a trip all in itself, but it also took place in a state that I have not been to- a part of the country that, until last weekend, I had never journeyed remotely toward. To get to this wedding, I had to travel to Colorado. Woahh.


I could take this time to give you all a discourse on the dangers of flying with the airline that I chose. However, in spite of the fact that there were no complimentary beverages offered on board, and that the flight crew was completely unpleasant and proffered such preposterous threats as turning the plane around and returning to the gate upon finding that someone hadn't turned off their cell phone (a behavior that I would not have believed if I had not bee sitting next to the gentleman it happened to...), the flight was cheap AND it is the only airplane I have taken out of LaGuardia to date that has actually left on time. So we'll skip any further elaboration on that.


Rachel's wedding took place in an area of Colorado called Pine. It is a quasi-remote location- the strange looks and repetitions of “Where did you say it was?” from the Denver natives caused me to double check my invitation hundreds of times, but there it was in black and white, PINE, Colorado. In order to get there, you must drive through out of Denver and directly into the mountains- I was pleased that I got to make the trip in the daylight- the sky was incredibly blue, bluer than I have ever seen, due to the higher altitude, and the mountains were amazing- green. Green trees growing out of red, red rock, and sprawling into the sky higher than I could see, even if I craned my neck. And there we were, at a ranch nestled in between a few of the massive rocks. I was encouraged by nearly everybody upon my arrival to make sure and drink plenty of water, and to be honest, I hadn't even noticed the altitude change until I had tried to walk up the bluff to our cabin- I was as out of breath as I had been when I tried to run up the steep sets of stairs that littered the Manayunk hill in Philly. Phew!


I think that my favorite part of the ceremony itself was watching Rachel's new husband, Pat, stomp on the glass and being able to be a part of the excited crowd which shouted “MAZEL TOV!” Ever since I watched “Fiddler on the Roof” as a child, I have anxiously awaited the time in my life where I would be able to replicate that excitement. Don't even get me started on the rest of the ceremony- all it takes is THINKING about seeing Sam in her dress, and her parents trying to hold back their tears and I am all weepy too.


...Which brings us to the reception, and the best meal ever served at a wedding, ever. Are you ready for this?? A little bit of salad (which I only record here to ensure that there WERE veggies present. Sort of..), macaroni and cheese, garlic and herb mashed potatoes, barbeque chicken, pulled pork, and the most delicious, moist, soft, slightly sweet rolls. All comfort food, all the time, all awesome, all helping me ensure that the three glasses of wine I had at high altitude wouldn't render me totally useless. There is a large part of me that wants to copy this menu, right down to the tiny shreds of salad that were pushed to the corner of everybody's plates. Is that a faux pas?

Finished Book Depression

Yesterday morning I started a new book. It was called Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion (and yes, it is the same Warm Bodies that sparked the movie which was released earlier this year). I downloaded it to my kindle and opened to the first page before I left for work. 10 hours later, I was finished, and I couldn't help but feel a little deflated. I knew that later in the night, I would want to read Warm Bodies again, but would have already finished it. And this morning when I woke up, I wanted to read only that particular book- I could start it over again, but it isn't the same.

I felt a little like this...




This happens to me a lot, this sort of finished book depression. I find a book, tear in, lose myself, finish the story, and then don't know what to do. This all usually happens in the course of a day, maybe two. Perhaps I need to read more slowly- only allow myself a certain number of pages a day- to extend my stay in these worlds. Maybe I need to pick books that are longer, which will not only prevent me from finishing too quickly, but also- if I get the hard copy- from carrying it with me everywhere I went. My purse is already heavy enough.

Babs Blips: The Bookshelf.

This long weekend saw some mega cleaning on my part, and some mega lounging on Babs's. Isn't it odd the way that cats always seem to know where you want them least- and suddenly THAT is the ONLY place on earth they can imagine themselves getting comfortable?

After the display on the bottom shelf, Ben decided it might be fun to move her to the top and see what she did. At first she was apprehensive, but eventually realized that THIS was ACTUALLY the only place she could ever be comfortable. Funny how that decision came JUST as I had pulled out the chair to rescue her.