Happy New Year.

I knocked at Dex's door and waited.

This was the third time I tried to drop off his card for him at his apartment over the course of the holiday season, and for the first time I heard footsteps approach the door and it unlatched. At least this time he wore boxers instead of briefs, unlike the first time. He thanked me enthusiastically for the card while I caught myself staring at the eagle on his chest for an inappropriately long time. He invited me in, but this time I had the presence of mine to decline, telling him I had somewhere else to go. I wished him belated happy holidays and a good new year, and left him with the card containing some twenty dollar bills. It wasn't much, but it was what I could afford and probably fair for the service he offered as the building super.

I wasn't lying when I told him I had to go. I popped back down into my apartment and changed into running gear, checking the temperature and then my handy What-to-Wear chart. It was 24°F, and I hadn't run in weather like that since the Philly Marathon, nearly six weeks ago. Full gear - jacket, hat, pants, mid-layer, etc., for tonight. Off I went for the group run.

However, the group run turned out to be just me and PB&J, the group leader. We guessed most people were still recovering from New Year's Eve the night before, or just thought it too cold out. We ran and chatted, mostly about the night before.

On the 30th, PB&J had started an e-mail chain for people that had nothing to do on New Year's. He had collected a handful of Flyers and offered his apartment if anyone wanted to swing by for a beer to celebrate a very Low Key New Year. There ended up being about ten of us there and it was good to hang out, chat and reflect on what most agreed was a dreadful '08 and share our hopes and resolutions for the coming '09 over many drinks and tasty munchies. I was really tired and finally left right after watching the west coast celebrated at 3 AM, but I found myself back at the same apartment at 3:30, having forgotten my cell phone. I was chastised for leaving so quickly and forced to have another drink before leaving the group 45 minutes later. These are some good friends indeed.

Unfortunately, I paid for all those drinks with a mild hangover this morning. It was weird - I couldn't remember the last time I was hungover. I tried not to regret my decision to drink so much, as I usually would, but instead took it as a sign that I just lost track of time while enjoying myself among friends. I was suposed to head to Coney Island to celebrate a friend's birthday, but called him and bailed instead, promising him a dinner in the future. Even after my headache subsided, I stayed cozy in bed well into the afternoon on this cold first day of '09.

Hanging with friends, getting in some well-deserved rest, and running a few chilly miles. It was a good start to 2009. What more could I ask for?

Older.

I like receiving birthday cards. Yesterday I got five cards from friends and family.

I've actually kept every single card (and letter) I've received for birthdays, holidays, and special events, since my late teens or early twenties. It's amounted to a couple of shoe boxes worth of paper, and that's still less volume than the number of comic books I have stored away at my parents' house from when I was a teenage collector. But unlike comics, which really only have value in my thinking that one day they'll be worth money, a card has a personality attached to it. Getting one is a nice little token of someone thinking about you, and even if they aren't particularly such a close friend, the card and the respective giver is usually attached to some part of your life that was important in one way or another. A few years ago I flipped through some of the cards in the boxes and came across a Christmas card with a name on it that I didn't immediately recognize. It came to me hours later: she was one of five Americans and Canadians that I lived with in London in December of 1991. She was from Montana, I remember, and was a very positive, cheery girl. I only lived with those folks for about a month, in a basement flat in West Kensington, but it was amazing the rich memories that were triggered by just looking at a name on a card. Letters, of course, are even more personal, but it's been years since I received one, and I don't keep e-mails in the same way.

I have no doubt that I'll feel the same way about the names on the cards I look at in a few years... the days with that New York running club, the Canadians in NYC, and my friends from Jersey. Remembering my Birthday at the Beer Garden in Queens, trying to stay out until midnight to celebrate my real birthday with the last few that hung on that long.

And I did, just barely, and then headed out with them at 12:20 AM. One day it'll all be just a good memory.

* * *

And with that, I feel like I'm finally done with the Beer Garden. It's gotten too trendy, too crowded, and the waiting-in-line thing in order to sit casually outside with a beer is just too much for me. I actually felt sorry that I picked the place, with some friends waiting for an hour to get in. That's a pretty selfish way to spend a birthday. I need a new favourite place to enjoy a cool one with friends.

Today, the 15th, was my actual birthday. It's also National Ice Cream Day, FYI, so really, can it get any better than that?!

Anyway, amazingly, I was up at 8:45 AM. I felt tired though, so after sending a few e-mails and doing a few minor chores, I went back to bed for another hour and a half. I got the Mom and Dad call at noon, right on schedule, and we chatted for almost 20 minutes, which is longer than usual. I got a few more birthday e-mails and online greetings and send a thank you to my friends for coming out last night, and an apology to the ones for whom the wait was too much. From there I headed down to Union Square. I treated myself to a little b-day late-lunch at a diner and headed into work for a few hours, and then back uptown to do some grocery shopping before heading home.

I was supposed to get together with a friend for dinner, but he left me a message saying he couldn't make it and would have to give me a rain check.

So that's basically my birthday. Quiet and solo, but that's okay. Actually, that's pretty representative of my life, so it seems to be a fitting way to spend the day.

I'll end it, though, on a more adventurous note: a couple of friends and a movie. That would be me, Sam Adams, and Jason Bourne. And ice cream, of course.

Happy Birthday to me.

It's Party Time! (No, really this time...)

I'm at home alone on a Friday night, typing in my blog. I'm such a partier.

It's just as well. It's Friday the 13th, and I'd probably go out tonight and get killed in some East Harlem gang war, and all my guests tomorrow would be pissed at me for not showing up.

So I do plan to make up for my lack of carousing tomorrow night, at my Bohemian Hall Blowout. At the moment I have 72 confirmed attendees, 15 maybes, and 27 who haven't replied yet. And I've already heard from a bunch of the latter two groups that said they'll actually be there (the eternal mystery to me is how anyone can't click yes and submit. It seems pretty easy to do, but maybe I overestimate the abilities of some of my friends. Whatever.). so from my perspective, I could have 80+ people coming. Cool.

This is not what I expected, mind you. I felt optimistic in estimating about 40 guests. What happened to summer vacations, and the "I don't want to leave Manhattan" crowd?? But so many are coming out. I don't know why. It's Queens, you know, guys. It really is a trek to get out there. Maybe a lot of people will bail.

Not that I want them to, mind you. I'm just not one to get my hopes up when it comes to throwing a party. The beer garden is huge, and can accommodate nearly a thousand people (find a place like that in Manhattan!). Unfortunately though, they won't reserve for guests. It's all first come; first served, so there may be a scarcity of seating. I am hoping people come and go throughout the afternoon/evening/night, so that not the whole bunch is there at the same time, and I get to chat with lots of friends. Two friends of mine are bringing their kids in the afternoon at 4 PM (kids allowed until 9 PM in the beer garden, FYI), and it already looks like there's a second shift coming between 7 & 8. So I guess the party will be PG in the afternoon, and R-rated in the evening. Maybe NC-17 if we're really lucky. Or if I'm really lucky, anyway. Heehee.

I'm not as party crazy as I was last year about the birthday thing. This year, I just see it as an excuse to get friends together. After last year's extravaganza, I actually wasn't going to do another birthday thing until the big four-oh. However, I realised that I always wanted to have a celebration at Bohemian Hall, and there's a good chance of me getting tossed out of this country before that happens if I wait a few more years. So I figured better sooner than later. And whereas last year I split my groups up into smaller events, this year I just kept it simple and invited pretty much everybody for one night.

And on that note, if you're reading this and weren't on the official evite, consider this your invitation. See you there.

The past week

Last week was busy. Had a job interview (it kind of fell into my lap but turned out to be something I wasn't interested in anyway), I lost my wallet and got it back the next day, but not before canceling all my credit cards and my ATM card. Had my first day off of work in a month. Cleaned the apartment and went grocery shopping (normally these aren't special events, but they are with work the way it's been lately). Went to some wineries in Long Island with a few friends, as well as strawberry picking, and I still can't say that with a straight face. Went out with my buddy Ted for beers on Friday. Watched two more movies on Netflix (Hotel Rwanda: good not great, and Team America: somewhat funny but not hysterical).
I even ran the five mile race on Sunday. I ran it as just a training run, stopping and walking for a bit at each mile.
But the biggest laugh of the week was seeing this during the race:
I thought I was pushing myself. Not compared to this girl who was running while carrying her dog! It actually took me some time to pass her to get a better picture...

I wondered if there was an awards category for this, and thought there should be.

Anyway, I was glad I raced, and for a change, I stuck around and socialized for a while, and took some more pictures. It was a selfish effort on my part - during the last couple of months quality photos on the Flyers site have been scarce, particularly if you're the newsletter editor trying to fill the pages with eye candy. Happily, my fellow Flyer, Trakmaniak brought out his fancy new camera, so hopefully I won't have to in the future.

It's Party Time!

Yep, miracle of miracles - I have the weekend off, including at least half a day on Friday! What to do with all the time?! It'll be my first day off in over a month!

Things actually significantly lightened up yesterday when I passed off our Staten Island job to our sub-consultant. I went home on time, actually got a short run in, and watched a Netflix movie (V for Vendetta. It was pretty crappy, but I really dig Natalie Portman. With or without hair, she's awesome). I also got eight hours of sleep last night. Eight hours! Oh, the decadence!

Anyway, despite that fact that I don't have to come in this weekend, there's still a lot of work I need to do. I have no groceries... so I need to spend a day at Pathmark. I also need to clean my apartment: yesterday I thought to myself "hmmm, when did I get carpeting?" and then realized that the cat has just been shedding a lot. Plus I have a bunch of Flyers stuff to attend to... posting meeting minutes, and starting the July issue.

I'm supposed to go out to Long Island with some friends on Saturday, something I committed to some time back, just to force myself to get the day off work. Earlier this week, when it looked like I might not get these drawings out, I though I'd have to cancel it, but I can have some fun after all. Friday night brings me, likely, to an event at Bohemian Hall. Alternatively, there's a Flyer event, but considering that the Beer Garden is one of my favourite NYC hangs, and the Central Park Boathouse is... not, then there isn't much of a contest.

And -- as amazing as it is -- I'm running again! Granted, I've only gone twice this week for a total of 8 whole miles, but it's still running... It came to my attention earlier this week that Chicago is only 17 weeks away, and I went into a mini-panic and did a 4 miler on Tuesday morning. It felt terrible, like I hadn't run in a month (I hadn't). I still intend to do the marathon though, and even if I don't need a Boston Qualifier anymore, I need to start building mileage again... I'm also planning on doing the Father's day race Sunday, but only as a training run (not by choice, given the shape I'm in). The downside to all of this is that I'm still going to PT, and my left hip and back are still bugging me, although minimally compared to how they were. Fingers are crossed.

Okay, need to remind myself that I am still employed, and blogging is not part of my job description...

More boring talk about work...

Things have lightened up somewhat. But just barely.

It's Saturday and I'm at the office working again. I've moved on from the big (Brooklyn) project that I was working on, which I got out the door on Wednesday to a small Staten Island design that technically was supposed to go out yesterday. Realistically, it only needs to be sitting in our sub-consultant's inbox when she come in Monday morning. Tomorrow, I'll still be back at the office, but it'll be a whole lot of personal junk that I need to get done and have entirely neglected during the past few weeks.

I've been so out of it lately. I was planning to get out and cheer on our Flyers chicks in the Mini... tomorrow, until I looked at NYRR's site today and saw the results up. Sheesh!

I did manage to get a 4-mile run in on Thursday, and I plan to do the same tomorrow morning. I've also been doing my PT exercises for a change, and getting enough sleep. I even managed to go out on Thursday and Friday nights. Thursday I went to another event at the Boat Basin and Friday I went to the roof garden on the Met for the first time. It's nice up there, but of course, pricey to drink.

Anyway, tonight I'll work late on Staten Island, and take it as far as I can before sending it off. What I'm working on isn't inherently difficult, but I'm finding it extremely so, if only because I haven't had a day off in over a month. It's just so hard to keep focused.

I am not coming in next weekend. No sirree!

Return to Running

Today was my first run since last Sunday's marathon. I had thought about joining the group run yesterday, but decided against it, thinking that an extra recuperation day would do me some good.

I only did 5.2 miles, and it was a tough slog. The joints are stiff, my muscles feel old and weak, and I can tell that I'm still genuinely just tired. My hip still hurts, too, although not a lot once I got going.

The 5-Borough Bike Tour was flowing through the park from West Drive up to 7th Ave. I wanted to do the ride years ago, but once I learned how crowded the event is, I quickly lost interest. Too many of my friends who have participated in the event either have had accidents or expressed frustration at how slowly the tour progressed. Too many starts and stops - although I'm sure this depends on where you're placed within the field. I'd rather run the five boroughs anyway.

The rest of the weekend has been busy. I saw Spider-Man 3 during the day on Friday. The movie isn't quite as good as it's predecessors, but a good flick nonetheless. Friday night took me our to see a friend and fellow Flyer for a few beers in Hell's Kitchen. We hadn't chatted much in a while, and it was great to catch up. Last night saw me at a friend's place in the Bronx, meeting up with another group that I hadn't seen in some time. Today, I'll see my oldest Manhattan friend and former roommate and we'll walk over from his place to the Yankee game at one. I really hope they don't lose again, but I'm not holding my breath.

Other than that, I've been interspersing work in between the play, trying to catch up on things that I've fallen behind with. Hopefully by the end of this week, I'll feel like I'm back on top of them. And maybe I can get a few good runs in there as well.

Awards, Part One

Alright, the tapir's cute, but even I'm getting sick of looking at him. It's been a busy week... again. Not sure what happened, but ever since just before Christmas, things have been moving a little faster than I like.

Busy, but a good week. Last Tuesday I went to my New Jersey Club's Awards Night. It was great to see a lot of the old faces again, and catch up. I haven't been very active in the club lately, especially with my new commitments to the Flyers, as whipping boy...er, I mean, Secretary.

Anyway, a big suprise to me was that I actually received an award from the club.
And here it is:

Yep, the Marco Polo Award. I think the award actually reflects my activities from '05 more than '06, but hey - I'm not complaining. I'll take any award I can get. They are few and far between for me. Or so I thought...

Happy Easter.

It's also my mom's birthday today. Happy birthday, Mom! My mom doesn't read my blog, but it's the thought that counts, right?

I had a pre-Easter dinner at a friend's place in Greenpoint last night. A good time with good people, but I have to say I always feel like a bit of a freak when people are talking about fine wine, restaurants, and theatre - topics I generally know nothing about - and all I want to talk about is running. Runners are freaks. Well, I speak for myself, anyway. I need to go to a museum or something, sometime soon.

That aside, today I'm up for my last 20 miler before the NJ marathon. Actually, 20.65, by my calculations, which I hope to be more accurate than last week. Three and a half park loops, and then home for dinner. Normally, I'd have done this in the morning, but I have lots of work to do today, and I'd be too brain-fried after such a long run to be productive, so better to leave it for later in the day. Plus it's so freakin' cold out that I'm waiting for the high to go above 40 before I get out there.

I'm at work, trying to get some fairly monotonous drafting done. There are too many people (three of us) here in the office for an Easter Sunday. Aside from the blog break, I'm getting stuff done, but not enough. And I gave up caffeine a few days ago, so that's impacted production in a negative way. I actually had my last cup o'joe on Thursday morning, so I'm doing pretty well, but the real test will be tomorrow morning when I get into the office. I'm dreading it already. I did inadvertently cheat a bit this weekend, when I unknowingly consumed caffeine in a cup of green tea. I thought green tea was intrinsically decaf. Apparently not. I really don't like tea, whether green, black, blue, or turquoise.

No Brooklyn Half for me next weekend. It's my favourite Half, so I'm kind of bummed about it. I was originally thinking that I'd do it as a long run, but one of the reasons it's my favourite is that I always set a PR in it, so the temptation to race will be way too high. I'll save the long run for Sunday instead. Would've been nice to get in on the post-race Flyers' Brunch, but I figured someone running the race would be more deserving, so I unRSVPed today. If you're going, have fun.

Anyway, that's all for now. Need to get back on MicroStation again.

Scatterbrained

This is a record low for me: my fifth post in a month. I do realise that I really need to blog though, and this is a break for me - a well-deserved break.

To think things were going to slow down and become more manageable after my posts of two weeks ago was so far removed from reality that it's not even funny. All I've been doing, it feels like, is playing catch up with everything. And from most people, it seems the common thread weaving through everybody's life is "being overwhelmed" by just about everything: work, relationships, responsibilities, etcetera. Isn't January supposed to be a slow month?

Granted, I have some friends who are in much more stressful situations than I. One of them is across the country attending to a very sick family member, and one is recovering from a tough c-section delivery following a stressful pregnancy. One even got mugged recently. Me, I just feel like the trivial aspects of everything are coming at me right and left: work, the new responsibilities of the Flyers' executive board, and even social commitments. In short, I feel spread so thin that I've become transparent.

Someone at the awards gala - a great Flyer and a well-meaning friend - asked me why I didn't have a girlfriend. This is a step beyond his usual question, which is why I'm not married. He and his wife debated, and she chalked it up to my being too picky. That may or may not be true, but the real question I find myself asking is: when would I date? I hardly have time to do my laundry. Cripes, I didn't even get my grocery shopping done this weekend...

It seems like even though I've been actively and consciously participating in all of this stuff, like going to the awards party, attending two friends' birthdays last weekend, meeting deadlines at the office, recording minutes at the executive meeting, and trying to compile a running club newsletter, there's a big part of me that feels separate from it all. I feels as if I've been somehow removed from the conscious world and I'm viewing it from a few feet removed from it. No, maybe more like a few minutes remove from it, like everything is happening a while before I'm aware it is, if that makes any sense at all.

The blog is a good outlet for this, I find. It somehow gives me a sense of control and it, in some way, orders my world a bit. And without it, it feels like nobody's listening. With it, I feel like I'm somehow a bit more present in the world. And what are we if we aren't somehow relating to each other, in a present, conscious way?

This might be all hullabaloo. Some people will blow me off, and some will tell me that I just need to relax. Whatever. Some will argue that I just can't handle the speed of NYC. I never bought that argument. I'd counter that it isn't the speed of NYC that's the issue here. It's the speed of life.

An awarding - but more importantly, rewarding - event

The New York Flyers Awards Gala was a fun Saturday night, although a bit too much fun in some ways. Note to self: open bar does NOT mean "drink as much as you can". Yeesh.

I recall dancing badly: inebriation and coordination may rhyme, but they don't give you good rhythm. A fellow Flyer told me I was dancing like a Ukrainian. She's good at making those little comments that don't quite insult, but definitely don't come off as compliments, either. Oh, and she, like myself, is of Ukrainian ethnicity. No comment.

I did get an award though, and it capped off a very good year with the club. There were friends I wished could be there but weren't, and there were others I hadn't seen in awhile that were good to see again and share the event with. It was a fine night. I even bought a new tie for it.

I needed the break from work. It's been so busy at the office these last two weeks, and on top of having to assemble the monthly newsletter, I've suddenly been deluged with e-mails copying the exec board on everything from the weekly Flyers updates, to member surveys, to comments on meeting minutes. I never thought I'd hear the word "policy" so much in my life, especially when it comes to what basically amounts to an athletic hobby. It's a running club folks, not Parliament! We're here to run and have fun!

I am partly kidding with those comments, of course. I do realize the huge effort involved in running the largest local running club in New York City, and that there are a lot of members to make happy. Everyone involved put together a hell of an awards party, and they've done a hell of a job with the club in its twenty years of existence. As our esteemed lifetime achievement award recipient said last night, "Look how far you've come."

Indeed, and I hope to also contribute, so as to take us even farther, wherever that may be...

Winnipeg Wedding

I was in Winnipeg Jan 4th through the 8th. It was a pretty good time, but rushed and frantic. Part of this was due to having my flight bumped from 7 PM on Wed. to 6 AM on Thursday. Trust Travelocity to change a flight schedule without sending out an e-mail notification. Luckily I called to double check my departure status before heading to the airport that evening.

I went to Canada for a wedding, and skipped Christmas because of that. I explained to my family that Christmas comes every year and weddings, at least in theory, happen once in a lifetime. That is, unless you're Liz Taylor and hold them regularly. The biggest part of the hectic-ness of the trip was trying to cram in the family and friend visits around the wedding, and all within four and a half days. I managed it, but not without frustration.

The wedding was pretty good, but not without it's flaws. The ceremony was held in the main hall at the swanky downtown Winnipeg Art Gallery (pictured). It was a great venue for the event, after which we moved up to the penthouse level for the reception. The atmosphere over dinner was relaxed, the food was delicious, and I caught up with an old friend as well as met some other nice, new people. We then moved to another room for the more active festivities.

I would have thought the gallery had hosted lots of weddings before, and I’m sure this was the case, but they seemed fairly unseasoned at it. Specifically, when the DJ started playing Billy Holiday's "Strange Fruit" during the reception, we knew something was dreadfully wrong. The groom remedied that quickly, though, and people were shakin' it on the dance floor in no time.

I also had to care for a friend of mine who went a little over the top with the alcohol consumption. In a follow up e-mail to me the next day, she referred to herself as a “basket case”. I wouldn’t quite go that far, but to say that she was inebriated would be an understatement (and who could blame her – it was a wedding!). I saw her off safely in a cab before partying the rest of the night away without incident with the bride, groom, and their many friends and family. I made it home in the late hours of morning, and slept until early afternoon.

Overall, I was happy to see my good friend tied the knot with this guy. She and I have been friends for about 14 years now, and although I’ve never had a chance to get to know him so well (they started seeing each other just before I left Canada), I can tell they’re great for each other.

The rest of my trip I spent meeting up with many friends I had during university and high school, as well as relatives. Some of the people I saw I hadn't caught up with in years.

I had brunch with my family on the Saturday. Seeing the family always reminds me how much I regret not being able visit my nephews more than once a year… a definite downside to living so far away. The other downside was something new this trip, and that was seeing how much my mother’s health has deteriorated substantially over the past year. She was almost a different person, and that left me feeling helpless and mildly depressed, like there was something I should be doing to make her better, but I didn’t know what. It’s tough to watch someone’s health decline and realize that it’s out of your hands.

On the issue of health, I noticed a few friends and relatives have also put on a couple of pounds, which I guess is easy to do if you're not actively running marathons or anything. One friend has kept in shape by doing Jujutsu, although I think this also serves as an effective dual purpose of keeping her two kids in line. Two of my friends - a couple that I didn't get to see last year - had dropped a LOT of weight, and were looking healthier and happier than I had seen them in a long time. How? "A healthy diet and exercise", they said. I was very happy for their new, healthy lifestyle, which included eliminating a surplus of junk food and joining a soccer league. I’m sure we all know and can appreciate how important and difficult it is to keep that extra weight off when you’re on that slide towards the big four-oh.

I also did lunch with my best friend while I was there. He and I have been friends since grade seven. It always amazes me how, even after years living apart, and very different lifestyles, we always come back to each other with perspectives on the world that are interesting, enlightening, and respectful of each other’s differences.

Finally, I did breakfast with my parents on the Monday morning, and they drove me to the airport that afternoon. It was a good, albeit exhausting trip.

My Emerald Nuts

It's New Year's Day, and I'm at home attempting to load myself with caffeine so that I can actually be productive and get some work done.

Last night I did NYRR's Emerald Nut's Midnight Run in Central Park. I wasn't very excited about this event. I've always said that the last thing I want to be doing at the stroke of midnight on January 1st is running outside in the cold, which I can do anytime. My New Year's has always seen me with a group of friends, inside where it's warm, toasting the New Year with a drink in my hand. I actually considered bailing from the race at the last moment, but considering I didn't have a back up plan, had paid, and told everyone I was going, I figured I may as well go through with it. Plus there were a lot of Flyers doing the race, and I also thought that given the recent ridiculously warm weather, if there was going to be a year that I spent any time outside, this was the year. Plus, given my extremely low expectations, I was bound to be have a better time than I thought I would, right?

Well, sort of. The good time that I had was purely based on the company of friends that I shared during the pre- and post-race festivities. I talked to some nice new Flyers that I hadn't chatted with before, and caught up with other friends, while enjoying wine. When we made it to the park though, I got separated from everyone amidst the utter chaos of the event. I entered the field at the 7 min. pace marker and at the countdown to midnight had none of my friends with me. That truly sucked! The fireworks went off and the field started to slowly move, and I thought: Great -this is how I'm going to spend the first moments of the New Year: in a 4-mile race with none of my friends around... I had no interest in that so I stepped out of the pack at the 6 min. pace marker and considered just packing it in and going home. I didn't, though, and went to plan B: I stepped up onto the wooden guard rail and, steadying myself with the support for the NYRR pace banner, I surveyed the crowd for Flyers. I saw a couple that I din know early in the crowd, but waited to see some of the friends I had come in with. I was a long long time that I stood there as thousands of people passed by, and I was just about ready to give up, when right at the back of the crowd, I saw my friends. I hopped in and they welcomed me back.

Now, I'm not the fastest runner on the planet, but this was tediously slow. We were crwling through the crowd at the back of the pack. I saw a couple of Essex Runners and chatted with them for a bit, and while doing so, inattentively almost mowed down a pair of walkers at about a half mile into the race (I had been drinking, remember). I apologized, although at the time I also thought it quite funny. They were very pissed. Finally, one of my fellow Flyers was also growing more and more impatient and frustrated with the high density and snail's pace of the crowd and the two of us picked it up and separated from the group. Minus a couple of bottlenecks, we settled into a nice jog, and chatted about marathons, running, and her ex-boyfriend, who was also running the race. I didn't know her before the start of the night, so the viewpoint and stories were novel to me and made the time pass quickly.

We finished the race in with 49:27 on the clock. That works out to a 12+ minute pace, which is slower than a brisk walk for me, but considering I didn't cross the start line for over 10 minutes after the gun went off, I figure our pace realistically averaged around 9:30, and much faster in the final miles. Anyway, it was a PW any way you slice it.

There were costumes, though, which made the race somewhat entertaining. Some of our group participated in a spoof of Lance Armstrong's NYC marathon entourage, which was worth a good smile. I saw a lot of Santas, a spider-man, a skeleton crew, reindeer, and lots of other crazy stuff that left me not knowing what to make of it.

After the finish, the Flyers met up again at the baggage area, and after a few photos, most of the group parted ways and headed home. A handful of us went back with our host to the pre-party venue and chatted over beers until the early morning hours. Over all it was a fine time, but I think for 2008 I'll go back to doing my traditional indoors New Year's celebration.

Xmas

Interesting holiday. I spent the course of the day with a few friends of the Jewish persuasion, one of Thai descent, three from Ghana, and one New Zealander (who was also a Canadian through citizenship). Truly an international and cross-cultural representation of Christmas, Hanukkah and nothing important whatsoever. The two events, brunch and dinner, took place in Queens and the Bronx respectively. Including last night's event in Stuy town (which actually included a few of the above souls, and an Irish American to boot), I think I covered the globe and New York City pretty well.

A good time was had by everyone, I think. And I didn't even need a gift to make it that way.

But all the food helped. Yum.

Sleepy Hollow and Christmas Eve

Four intrepid Flyers ventured out yesterday for a soggy morning in Rockefeller State Park, near Sleepy Hollow. Luckily, the rain subsided and the weather was excellent for running. Making our way through the thick fog and mist of the park, we almost expected to hear an eerie horse's gallop descend upon us, and we made jokes about running with our shirts pulled up to appear already headless.

It was my first time running in Rockefeller, and it was a peasant, albeit challenging, change from Central Park or Van Cortlandt. Two loops of a hilly six-mile trail route, and we headed back to Manhattan.

By the time I got back home, It was already 12:30 PM. Much of the rest of the afternoon was spent performing mundane chores - groceries, laundry, and cleaning up the apartment - before diving into some personal side projects I've been working on. I finished the day by pulling my TV out of the closet and having a couple of glasses of wine in the company of Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed. I didn't go out on Friday night either, and I really can't recall the last weekend I stayed in for two nights in a row like that, but it was a welcome, quiet change from the last few hectic months.

Today, I headed to Central Park for 7.3 miles, closing my week with 40.6 total. It was a tough run - my muscles were aching from the trail run yesterday. Still, it was a beautiful day to get out, and I was basking in the delight of running in shorts the day before Christmas. I understand the weather is supposed to stay unseasonably warm well into January.

Tonight is Christmas Eve with the Canadians. A group of us that didn't head back to the Great White North for the holiday will be getting together in Stuyvesant Town for dinner and drinks. Should be nice.

Whatever you're celebrating, have a good one.

melancholy

I realise we all have our ups and downs in life, and considering just how up I've been for the last few months I was pretty-well due for a good down. It was an interesting weekend: a holiday party Friday night, a holiday party Saturday afternoon and another holiday party Saturday Night.

In the middle of all that, I tried to race the 10-miler in Central Park on Saturday morning. I was hungover from Friday night, and frankly, I can't believe I even made it to the start. By the time I was two miles into the race, I knew it was going to be bad. I decided to do the first loop and call it a day. In the end, I added the Great Hill loop to the north, and made it back to my apartment with about 8.5 done for the day. I wanted to do 16 total, but it just wasn't happening for me, and I also ended up bailing on Jonathan, who was going to run with me for another four. I felt bad for doing that, but he seemed pretty nice about it. Turns out his race was just the opposite of mine: this was going to be my tenth PR for the year (how awesome would that have been???); instead it was my very first DNF ever.

At least I did make it out, and I ran off most of the hangover, so I was just left with a mild headache by the time I got to my next party at 1:00 PM. It was my office party, and we had an early afternoon dinner at Angelo and Maxie's, followed by drinks out at a pretty generic pub nearby.

Both soirées on Friday and Saturday were hosted by runner-friends. Friday night I brought a non-running friend to a running party, but I'm not to sure if I'll do that again. That "worlds colliding" phenomenon, I guess. My friend left early, but I stayed on for another couple hours and a few more beers, resulting in the aforementioned hangover. Ugh. Both nights were fun, though, and made me think how much I love the running crowd.

Sunday I kicked back for most of the day, and then grabbed a beer with a friend in the West Village. Cool, easy night.

Today however, I'm down a bit. After a lousy running week last week, I'd hoped to start this one off on the right track, and join the Flyers group run in the park tonight. For some reason, however, I've found myself typically getting really busy at this time of year, and recently has been no exception. I ended up staying late, and missing my run tonight. Try again tomorrow, I guess.

Pile on top of the workload Christmas shopping, and there's just no fun to be had. I actually screwed up one of my nephew's gifts, so now it won't get there until after the 25th. Bad Uncle Skye. Christmas also means broke: the wallet goes on a diet and the credit card bill fattens up terrifically. My bills every year at this time include travel to Winnipeg, but also a wedding when I go. I'm actually skippinng the Christmas visit, as my friend's walk to the alter happens the first weekend in the New Year.

What else has brought about this gloom? Well, in three days the fall is officially over and we enter the dead of winter. Even though the weather has been more than wonderful, I know that it just can't last and the real cold is on its way. I just plain don't like the season. I suppose if there's one bright side, it's that the days will gradually start getting longer. Not sure which I dislike more about the winter - the darkness or the cold. Nah, it's definitely the cold.

Yep, today I'm in the dumps.

If you're a runner, you might think that a DNF is enough to bring anyone down, but that's not the only thing that did it. More to come, as long as I get a chance to post again sometime soon.

Hell freezes over.

There's a couple of levels of meaning to that tag-line. First, the obvious one, which is the temperature outside. Wasn't it hotter than Hades just a week ago, on Dec. 1st? Today, I was supposed to do a long run of 16 miles. I knew it was supposed to be cold today, but much for lack of better judgment, I tried anyway, and for the first time I can remember, I actually failed at completing a long run. I did one loop of Central Park (and only saw a half dozen other runners on the entire loop, by the way) and my fingers had gotten too numb to continue, so I ran back home, finishing the day with 8 miles. I was wearing gloves, just not very thick ones. Need to make a note of that for next time. It was cold, but it was the wind that was the killer. Getting back inside, I checked the weather. It was 22°F, but 9° with the wind chill. That's -13°C, which is a far cry from the 70° last Friday (21°C) and in general, just too damn cold.

Now I'm stuck without a long run this week, unless I try again in the next two days. I avoided doing a long run last week so that I could get a PR in the five mile on Saturday. This week I was planning to skip the 10k race on Sunday in hopes of getting in more mileage. However, earlier in the week, our mens team captain notified us that the Flyers are tied at 133 points and in first place of the 'Mens B' division with the Polish Running Club. Apparently those eastern Europeans are fast, and the team who takes the 10k on Sunday moves into the more respectable 'Men's A' division. And I'm part Polish in ethnicity, too, so now it's personal!

This is going to be a tough competition, though, and we can only win this if they're missing a couple of their faster runners. In two previous 10ks this year, their three top runners finished at a sub-6-minute pace. I don't think I'll be walking away with any PRs either. I set my 10k PR at the Scotland Run, which is the easier, clockwise loop of the park, and at that time I was at peak fitness prior to my injury.

Anyway, tying that discussion back to my point about running long, I don't want to do a long run tomorrow if I'm racing the next day, but I can still get in a long run if I do a park loop after the 10K. Assuming a 2-mile warmup, this would amount to 14 miles, which would make me perfectly content. I'm not usually good at the follow-through on this, though. Normally the fruit, bagels, and socialising after the race get the better of me. Ooh, that fruit!

Back to "when Hell freezes over", I went caroling last weekend with some friends. Before that, I don't think I've sung a Christmas carol in 25 years, and really didn't think I'd do it again, at least not until the devil started celebrating Christmas. But there I was, singing on Park Avenue as they lit up the trees. It helped that we had wine and hot cider beforehand, and I do use the term "singing" very loosely. I thought I'd remember the words to all those songs I sang back in elementary school, but no such luck, I had to read them. I was surprised how very short they were, not even longer than two minutes each. I was fun, anyway.

Moving on from the Hell references but continuing along the Christmas theme, tonight's the Flyers Holiday Party. It's actually a pretty good deal: Food and drink specials and an open bar for an hour, all for twenty-odd dollars. That said, if I hadn't paid for it weeks ago when I did - that is, before I spent all the money on my party, and before my stereo meltdown, and before I realised how much I had to spend on Christmas this year, and before my friend reminded me that I have to contribute for a gift for another friend who's having a baby, etc., etc., etc. - I probably would've skipped it this year. But whatever, it'll be a good time, no doubt. It's just too bad it's way over on first ave. Every time I go that far over to the East Side, I always think I should have booked a flight to London or Paris, since I'm already halfway there anyway.

Running Naked

Saturday night I hosted another party at my apartment. This was the second one I've hosted in a month.

It was a very different party.

This time it was mostly Flyers running club members. Like my last party, I struggled with the guest list. I invited close friends in the club, and expanded it to to others that I like and saw more often at events. There were still about ten others that I'd have really liked to invite (at least three of those were fellow bloggers) but unfortunately, due to concerns for crowd size in my place, I had to make the cut-off somewhere. And I can always have another party, right?

So most of the people at the party knew each other, or at least had met before, for the most part. That was different from my last part. And my relationship with these people was also different: the longest I'd known anyone in the room, with the exception of Medley, was about 18-20 months. A big chunk of people at my previous gathering I'd been friends with for 4 or 5 years. But this was also a good crowd of people I liked.

Anyway, me and a fellow Flyer friend organised the event, and we decided it would be a theme party. We wanted something that people cold really get into, and came up with doing a 70s theme...

The evite itself was a piece of work. In fact, this is what I wrote:

Alright you cool cats, it's time to get down and get freaky. Dust off the bell-bottoms and break out that tie-dye, cuz you're headed to funkytown, USA! That's Harlem, baby!

Just some chillaxin' at the pad with my main dudes and chicks! We'll have some groovy tunes, mellow munchies, and some dynamite drinks! Bring some of your own, too - maybe it's Blitz; maybe it's Tab - pick your poison, cats!

And speakin' of cats -- if my little disco-feline gives you a little disco-fever, you might want to pop a little disco-benadryl before you swing by to partay!

Peace out babes. I want to see you decked out in the hippest of 70s styles (It is a theme-party, kids! Dress appropriately.) and ready to sizzle on a Saturday night. Let me know if you can dig it, '70s style!

But the kicker was that I made up nicknames for each individual within the seventies theme (e.g. Skylight the Stoner), and also linked the words Blitz and Tab to their old 70s ads. If nothing else, definitely click on the word Tab. It is a total throwback.

I got 100% response rate to the evite, which has never happened to me before. Yes, every single person responded, and only one person replied with a "no". That said, I did have three couples who answered "yes" bail on the day of the party. I probably could've invited the other ten that I wanted. Damn!

Nonetheless, the party was a total cosmic success. We had a beaded curtain, disco balls, tie-dyed-coloured ballons, and John Lennon-esque glasses. We served cheese doodles, pop tarts, mallomars, brownies, and pig-in-a-blankets, and people brought more treats like cookies and cupcakes. The signature drink of the night was a vodka/orange Screwdriver, but we also had Tab and Schlitz (Blitz isn't around anymore). The Screwdrivers were a huge hit -- I actually didn't remember them tasting that good before, but I may actually order one more often in the future.

I also asked people to dress up, but really thought there'd only be a few that actually would. I was so wrong. In fact, I just wore a tie-dyed shirt and cut-offs with the Lennon glasses and had the lamest outfit of them all (I admit it was more 60s than 70s, and some people called me on that). There was glam outfits everywhere. sequined tops, Farrah Fawcett hair, short shorts, and guys with shirts so ugly they were brilliant. It was a great crowd. Some friends even contributed an awesome, ultra-tacky Starsky and Hutch Mirror. Trippin'!

And it turned out to be an awesome, rockin', disco party, if I do say so myself. How do you know when you've had a great party? Well, here are the three signs:

1. At least one person gets sick.
2. You manage to blow the amp on your stereo receiver.
3. People get naked.

Alright, so someone got sick (I'll never tell). This is merely the first sign of a good party. It means that people had a lot to drink. Like I said, the vodka and OJ was a hit, and guests also brought plenty of beer and wine. Good times, good times!

And the stereo? It was cranking out the likes of the BeeGees and Abba like it (literally, believe me) never had before. I walked into my living room and the furniture was all pushed aside, and the crowd was dancing to YMCA on the hardwoods. Unfortunately, the poor old receiver could not handle this disco inferno that had once been my apartment, and after not very long, just crapped out. The volume wouldn't go above 3.

I spent the next half hour or so trying frantically to get it back functioning. My stress level went through the roof. It's amazing how fast you can sober up when your adrenaline skyrockets... It's just that I was hosting the party, and I thought without the groovy tunes, people are going to have a lame-ass time and, well, just leave. I tried everything to get the receiver to function again, but nothing worked. Almost all the men in the room, as loaded as they were, had suggestions on how to get the music going again, but nothing was effective in reviving the system. Finally, I searched and searched for the cable I needed to plug in my auxiliary speakers, but after rummaging through a multitude of electrical components, I realised I was using that particular cable for my computer at work. It was no use. No music for the rest of the night.

And yet, when I looked around, everyone was still having fun. How curious... Yes, it was true: the party was going on just fine without window shattering tunage! My stress subsided, and I started enjoying myself once again.

Yeah, I know, you didn't care about reading any of that. You wanted to know about the naked people. Well, in fine seventies fashion, there were streakers. Yes, I had streakers at my party Saturday night. These were disrobed, bare-assed, not-a-stitch-of-ugly-seventies-clothing, streakers. Two of them: male and female. One naked lap around the room, and away they went. Enough said.

Apparently, you just can't keep runners from running, in any decade.

And that's when the party truly had begun. A very good time was had all. We did stupid things like see how many people we could fit into my 24 square-foot kitchen (all of us, which was seventeen at the time). We even played drunken 70s charades ("Disco Inferno", "Free Love", etc.). Let it be known that NYFlygirl is really bad at drunken 70s charades...

I have to add that not only was the crowd very different from my last party, but Medley was like an entirely different cat. Between the streakers and the dancing, she was totally freaked out. She sat in the kitchen or in the bathroom for much of the time, either avoiding, or observing from a distance, the sheer calamity of it all. Even the next morning, chaos ensued when she found out the hard way what happens when a claw meets a balloon. Poor cat'll never be the same...

By the time the last group staggered away, which included my co-host, it was around 2 PM. I cleaned for over an hour, and took out the recycling. One thing I thought was interesting: I had a six pack of Schlitz as a throwback to that decade. Five people had taken one each, and while cleaning up, I discovered that not a single Schlitz had been drunk more than a quarter of its volume. Apparently this group, however inebriated, still knew that 70s beer sucked. I was still stuck with one more left in the fridge, though.

But there was also some good stuff leftover. Although the vodka was gone, there was still unopened wine I could save for later. And a few cupcakes, pop-tarts and brownies.

And Sister Smile even made cookies. They were really good. I'm not sure how many she brought, but there were about eight or ten remaining when everyone left at the end of the night.

I ate every last one before going to bed.

Party Party Party

As I mentioned earlier, I hosted a party at my apartment on Saturday. This was the first “house” party I’d hosted since I moved from NJ into Manhattan in '04. Sure, I’ve collected friends at bars and pubs for birthdays in the past, but it’s not the same as having a bunch of people over to your home all at once.

I was nervous. My place is a studio, and compiling a guest list is tricky business for such a small space. Inviting the Flyers was out… there are just too many of them. They’d have to stick to meeting up with me in public places for now (which I think they all enjoy anyway), unless I host a small group of them in the future, which I very likely will do. So I put together a list of people beyond the clubs, classes, and groups that I’ve been a part of recently; a group of those I considered close personal friends. Came up with about 25 people. That’s still too many, I thought.

I wanted about a dozen or so for my first party, so I further stripped the list down, removing people I hadn’t seen in a while. Inviting people didn’t seem so difficult a few years ago, when inviting one person meant inviting one person. But now most of them were married, or at least had a significant other, so inviting one now meant two potential bodies to entertain. Anyone who helped me move was automatically included on the invitee list.

In the end, my list had fifteen people. I figured you always get some “nays”, so I’d expect 8-12, which my little place and I could definitely handle. And hopefully Medley wouldn’t be entirely freaked out.

But things started to go awry, or so I thought, very quickly. Friends started inviting other friends, some of which were on the original 25-guest-list; some weren’t. Then I realized that if I was inviting so-and-so, well then, I had to also invite so-and-so, too. Party social politics. Then one friend asked if she could bring her two (very cute; I’d met them before) girlfriends. What - I’m supposed to say no?

The day of the party, the guest list peaked at 39 people: 26 replied yes and maybe, 7 no, and 6 gave no answer: two of whom I didn’t even know were invited and one that I didn’t know at all. I was a little stressed, with potentially 25 people coming over: I wouldn’t have enough food or booze. My crazy neighbours would be calling the cops. Medley would be climbing the walls. I had images of people falling from windows as others tried to squeeze in through the door running through my head... I had no idea how to prepare.

But prepare I did. I had only 18 beers and 6 bottles of wine, so I told people to bring alcohol. I cleaned the apartment, filled the closets with anything that would allow me to free up floor space, bought loads of munchies, and hoped. I chopped veggies and pita bread, put out chips and dip, assembled cheese and crackers, and set out glasses, corkscrews, and openers. I readied myself and brushed Medley. Okay - I didn’t really brush Medley, but it makes the story sound like I did really thorough preparation, doesn’t it?

It was a great time overall. People started arriving shortly after eight, with most arriving around 9-9:30. Someone even brought a pineapple. At it’s peak, I concluded that I had 21 people and one feline in the place and it wasn’t uncomfortable, and people were having fun, meeting each other and chatting. I had a sense of “worlds colliding here!” but not quite in the same panicked, George Costanza way. There were my Canadian friends, New Jersey friends, some New Yorkers, and a running club member tossed in for good measure. Everyone got along famously, and despite my worry over not enough chairs, there were empty ones. People preferred to stand (Of course they would, I would think later. It's a party!).

Especially in the kitchen. The kitchen party is a phenomenon I will never understand. You see, the floor space in my kitchen is about three feet wide and about eight feet long. Yet, when the crowd began thinning out and after I saw a couple to the door I returned to find three people sitting on my futon in the living room, and eight standing in the kitchen. People are strange. Really.

Medley surprised all of us… she was the most social individual of the lot (she’s such a cat-whore). People were picking her up and holding her, which seemed odd to me (only because I don’t pick her up). She loved the attention, and when she wasn't in someone's arms, she was rubbing up against ankles. Two people had to leave a bit early because of cat allergies, but a third toughed it out on a nice alcohol/benadryl concoction.

I got to mingle and chat with more people than I thought I would. Almost everyone. I chatted with a very cute girl, too. (No number, though). The crowd was bustling. It was hot with all those bodies in there, so we opened the windows (and no one fell out). The chatter went on, and I couldn't even hear the awesome party mix that I'd worked so hard on compiling on my Powerbook, which was connected to the stereo.

Ted was there. If you recall, he’s my friend who lived there before I did. A bunch of people who were at my party had been to his parties before, and when I welcomed them they looked around with an odd sense of déjà vu. I didn’t think I had stuff that was as nice as his, but even he made a comment that he felt a little jealous of the new look in his old pad. In his defense, though, he was drunk and the lights were dimmed. I also got some good comments about the sculpture, pottery, and masks I had displayed on my far wall. Some people were surprised to find out what a geek I am: they saw the bottle of Spider-man bubble bath in my bathroom. A few people said I needed a TV. Not sure I agree.

I expected to be nibbling on veggies and dip for a while after guests departed. I thought I’d sit back with a beer and relax a bit before turning in. Maybe have some fruit. No way. Nada. The table looked like it was attacked by a pack of wild dogs. There was hummus left, but no pita bread. There were seven grapes at the bottom of a big empty bowl. No crackers; no chips. Napkins, bottles, and beer caps were strewn everywhere: a sure sign of a good party. The beer was gone, but that ended up being a good thing given how much I'd already consumed.

Somehow I did manage to come out ahead with the wine, though. I started with six bottles of cheap-ass Trader Joe’s Three-buck-chuck. I ended with four of those bottles left, and another four of not-so-cheap-ass wine that others had donated. And some kind of Italian cake that a friend brought. I haven’t tried it yet, so no report on that.

It only hit me how much I drank at the end, when the last group of people skulked off into the wee hours of night. I unfolded the futon with some difficulty and thought “Hmmm, maybe I’ll just lie down for just a minute.” End of story. Next thing I know, Medley’s battling a mouse at 6:30 AM, and my head is pounding.

So my first Manhattan party was a success, I’m happy to say. The ingredient, though, I realised in the end, for a successful party it seems is not how much alcohol you provide, or what kind of food you put out, or if you’ve provided enough seating or the music. It’s the people. When I’ve gathered random groups of people together in the past, many of whom don’t know each other - whether it’s out for dinner, or at a pub for a birthday party, or at my place for drinks - there’s always one pretty consistent compliment that pops up from many of them, either as they leave, or a day or two later, or the next time I see them, whenever that might be.

“You have really great friends,” is what they often say.

Amen to that.

This was my Sunday, November 5th.

It was a busy day.

I had registered for the NYC Marathon two days before I ran Vermont last spring. It was going to be my backup marathon if somehow (work schedule or otherwise) I couldn't get to run Chicago. Had it been two days after Vermont, where I got injured, I'd have known better. Running 26.2 miles wasn't in the cards for me this fall. Oh well, at least I got a $90 technical shirt out of it.

Since I wasn't running, I threw my name on the volunteer roster for multiple tasks today. Waking up at 5:00, and after first questioning my sanity, I biked over to 86th and Lexington, where I helped out with bus loading duties, simply seeing that all the Flyers getting on each of the five buses had checked in, were accounted for, and seeing that all possible seats were filled before sending the bus on its way to Staten Island. Despite the early hour, it was really enjoyable, and through the weary morning smiles, I could feel the slight nervous tension about the upcoming race. I said hi to a lot of Flyers, met a fellow Flyer's sibling who was also running, and even saw an old teammate from Hood to Coast, who came in from Seattle to run NYC.

I biked home and reset my four alarm clocks (yes, four) for 8:30 AM. I was too nervous to sleep, though, so I got up and made myself a huge-ass breakfast of french toast. At 9:15 I jogged over to the subway and headed down to 92nd and 1st Ave, to the PowerGel Zone for the 10:00 AM shift. Here we donned our aprons and coloured t-shirts, were briefed on PowerGel Zone ettiquette, and prepared the area for PowerGel distribution.

It was a blast. First of all, I was in the chocolate section, my favourite flavour. Realized later that I should've shoved at least a few in my pockets before I left. We were beside the music and grooving, and I had the luck of being surrounded by great people that I already knew. It was great to see the wheelchairs and lead runners fly by, and once the traffic increased, the PowerGels were quickly being picked from our hands. I joked with a friend that it felt like trying to catch fish! Unfortunately, I didn't give away very many before my shift was over, and while I was having a lot of fun with the group, I had to leave at noon for other important things.

Another friend, the Speedy Gonzales of the Flyers, had asked me for a favour: to provide him with a personal gatorade stop one block before the PowerGel Zone. So I headed over to the mile 18 marker and waited with a squeeze bottle of sports drink.

Besides the $90 technical shirt that I received from registering, I also got something else that proved invaluable: a running bib. I stripped off my Powergel garb to my running gear underneath, and thus, with my bib pinned on, I could actually stand under the mile marker on the course. While the police were pushing the crowds back onto the sidewalk, nobody messed with me. Awesome.

Speedy's window to hit 18 miles was between 12:07 and 12:15 PM. I waited, Gatorade in hand, for only two minutes into that window for him to arrive. I passed him the bottle, and ran with him for a bit while explaining how the thing opened and closed, and he zipped away. I learned later that he achieved his goal of a sub-3 hour marathon, and, to my satisfaction, beat Lance Armstrong by less than half a minute.

I considered momentarily going back to the PowerGel Zone, but someone had already claimed my chocolate shirt. instead, I got myself together and headed up 1st Avenue, on the marathon course.

I stopped by our resident piper to chat for a moment on the Willis Ave. Bridge. After a quick "How are things going?" exchange, I left him to toot on the bagpipes again and I continued an easy jog along the course.

I waited for my next appointment at Marcus Garvey Park in Harlem. I was supposed to be there at 1:15 or so, but arrived very early and waited for quite awhile. I saw a few Flyers go by, and some Canadians. I cheered for all of them. At 1:13, two minutes ahead of schedule, Sister Smile came into view.

I had asked SS a couple of weeks ago if she would want me to run with her for those last few miles. I was a little nervous about this. I'd never tried to pace anyone before, but during my marathons, I'd always wished I'd had ssomeone there for me to push me on. I was worried that either I'd push the pace too hard and run her to exhaustion, or be too conservative with the pace, drag her down, and make her miss her time goals. But she said yes, that it would be helpful to have someone run with her, and suggested I jump in around 22 miles.

She was running strong, and when I jumped in, just before mile 22, she was in control. She complained that she felt terrible; that she hurt badly. I told her that it was a marathon; she's supposed to hurt badly. For the next four miles, I did most of the talking. I talked about how well she was running. I commented on her 26-mile fan club everytime someone yelled "Go, [Sister Smile], Go!". I tried to make a few jokes. I talked about blogging. I made off-coloured remarks about how good she looked in those tights that I saw her in the other day. Most of all, I hoped my babbling wasn't wearing her out.

Whatever I said, it didn't matter. Her dedication to training and those 60+ mile weeks had clearly paid off, and when we hit mile 25, she was clearly going to reach her goal. I had never talked to her about it. I had never wanted to put that much pressure on her. I was always spouting off about just enjoying the marathon; enjoying the experience. But then we entered the park off of Columbus Circle, and along that last stretch of the West Drive, as we hit the 26 mile mark, we could see the clock at the finish in the distance hit 3:42:00, and she was first to say it:

"I'm going... to qualify..."

"That's right," I replied. "You're going to Boston. Congratulations."

And I peeled off to the left to let her finish on her own what she started on her own. I caught up with her later in the Family Reunion area, and gave her a big congratulatory hug. She finished with a clock time of 3:44:13. She needed a 3:45 for Boston.

Me, I expressed my uncertainty about my pace, my dialogue, and my jokes during our run together, and I took special notice that in response to this she said something to me that I don't think I've ever heard a woman say to me before:

"You said all the right things."

We chatted for awhile, and then I went on my way as she was reunited with other loved ones.

As I headed towards home, I also, coincidentally, ran into NYFlygirl as she was leaving the park. She also had a great race, and achieved her sub-4-hour goal, with 2 minutes to spare. I congratulated her and continued wading through the crowd north. Back in the park, I ran two loops of the reservoir and then ran home. I was surprised running up the west drive that I didn't come across more runners. I think I passed only 5 runners total, which was quite strange. After all, it was such a beautiful day for a run. Hee.

My total mileage for the day was 5 miles of biking and 13.1 of running.


Later, I met up with the Flyers at an eastside pub for post-marathon drinks. Many goals were met, and there were many smiles around the bar. It was great to hear the war stories and relive the excitement. We talked about what was next on the horizon for races and marathons, and people were excited and optimistic, including me.

At the end, the two holdouts were me and our Speedy Gonzales. We talked about running and many other topics before we walked back to 86th and Lexington, where the day had first began, and then we separated to catch our subways home.

It was a good day.