The Deli

I was waiting to get a roll of paper towels, because Wayne forgot and it was 11pm and of course I, like any New Yorker, needed my paper towels NOW so I could clean the litter box. I wanted things done right now, like any New Yorker. So I picked my recycled paper towels off the shelf and was shocked to see the couple in front of me with their massive amount of stuff. (Most New Yorkers buy a Red Bell or some beer or chocolates.) They were shopping - chips and cheese and blueberries and they asked for a big bottle of Dr Bonner's soap and a Mrs. Meyers candle.


Something touching - in how he tried to pay, or contribute, and how she gently, quietly shook her head now. He nodded, reached over her for the two heavy bags. I could see their love was new. He was covered in tattoos, wearing a shirt for a punk band, but all he was emanating was love for her. She was wearing some old black shirt with the arm holes way cut out so you could see her bra - and she too had a lot of tattoos. But mostly, you saw the adoration.


They didn't notice me. They barely noticed the smiling guy behind the counter. They were so sweetly falling in love, it struck me. This is what it's about.


I watched them float out of the store, and paid for my paper towels, too much for what they are, but that's what New York City delis are like. And then I went home to my little world, where the boy in love with me was washing a sink full of dishes - and our cat slept happily under the A.C.


And it was just another night in NYC, where falling in love and being in love are what keeps us going.

Eat in the Dark

Gwendolyn is my hip friend who always knows abt the new, interesting restaurants, or that great exhibit, or something else fun going on. For her birthday, we went to Dans le Noir. It was an incredible experience.

You pay a flat fee for your meals. You get there, order cocktails, and pick out one of four menu choices: meat, vegetarian, seafood, or surprise. You tell them any dietary restrictions.

Then, your server, who is blind, leads you into a completely dark dining room. Everyone has a hand on each other's back, and she helps you into your seat. Pitch black. You can't see your hand in front of your face. It's pretty freaky. Our server was super duper nice, raised in Georgia. We were having her experience for a little while.

She passed us water pitchers. Pouring water in the dark was hard. Then we were served rolls. It was interesting to identify what we were eating. Gwendolyn and I had different rolls, and when I was saying, "Salty and savory. Olives," she was saying, "Cinnamon and raisins and nuts." We shared rolls, which was hard, since I couldn't tell where her reached hand was.

Then we got salad. We were giggling as we tried to eat. "What's this slimy thing?" "A tomato." I think there was fresh mozzarella, tomato, some greens, fig and goat cheese and something else. All really good. I ate with my fork and hands.

We all felt the darkness. It intoxicated us. I had half a cocktail when I entered and immediately felt drunk. Wow. Everyone was giggling, talking, freaked out. It was really scary. I asked to be seated next to Wayne b/c I wanted to at least be able to touch him - no eye contact or physical contact would've been freaky. But it was great. It was actually fun - we made out sporadically during the meal when we never would have ordinarily b/c no one noticed. We were all having our own intense amazing experiences.

Then the meal. I think there was some kind of quinoa with chevril and this amazing eggplant Parmesan. I don't know what anyone else had - this was the veg option. I dropped sauce on myself. I ordered another drink and spilled some of it down my shirt. Drinking and eating in the dark was hard. 

I kissed Wayne some more.

I laughed with Gwendolyn. We told stories. The dynamics were different. It was fun.

Then, dessert. Tiaramasu, panna cotta, a cinnamon puff with cream. Amazing

We felt drunk with darkness.

After, they showed us photos of what we had eaten, telling us in great detail.

It was an amazing experience. Yes, a little pricey, but you're paying for the experience. And it was fascinating.

Pigeon Update

The pigeon is gone, as is the egg.


The nest remains.


Part of me is glad that nature took its way. I think if Wayne had forced the bird out of the way and smushed the egg, I would have cried. I do hate pigeons and I don't want them nesting in my very small outdoor space, but I don't want to kill them either. I guess it's the vegetarian in me.


But despite not wanting them there, I don't want to kill them.


I'm not sure what happened. Wayne peered out the window to water the plants, when he noticed both were missing. My guess is Mama Pigeon left the nest for food when Mr. Squirrel came along and grabbed a snack. (Do squirrels even eat pigeon eggs? I don't know but I prefer to think that than a rat was on my fire escape, yuck.) And Mama Pigeon came back and was devastated and flew away. And she'll probably not come back to nest again, knowing it's a bad place.


More space for my tomatoes, but still, honestly, I feel a little sad.

Pigeon Nesting

I have a small fire escape and it serves as my garden. This year, I'm expanding and planting tomatoes, peppers, cukes, basil (LOTS), sage, parsley, cilantro, flowers, and some other things I forgot.


Wayne was pulling in pots for me to dig in when he said, "Oh...oh...tail feathers!" I immediately thought there was a dead bird on the fire escape and said, "Get rid of it! Just get rid of it!"


"No..." he said, a bit of awe in his voice. "It's a mother. A mother bird and her nest. A pigeon."


Like any good New Yorker, I know what pigeons really are. They are rats with wings. Rats in the air or on the ground, both gross.


"Ugh!"


"Why?"


"Wayne, I don't want it in our teeny garden. I'm afraid it's going to fly in, and it's also going to crap on everyone's heads as they enter and leave the building."


Wayne shook his head. "You're right."


I didn't want to kill the egg; I just wanted it someplace else. Wayne went out with a broom to try to scare the bird away. The pigeon tried to attack the broom.

We have a stupid pigeon nesting on our fire escape.

Sometimes, urban wildlife sucks.

When did my feelings change like this?

I suppose it was in the woods somewhere, out at one of the ultras, but I no longer have the love or respect for NYRR. Oh, I admire that they put on one of the greatest marathons - my favourite marathon indeed! - but where is the love of everything?


When I went to pick up my number for admittedly, a MUCH smaller race, Cajun Coyote 100 Miler, the RD joked around with me while wearing a stuffed alligator hat. Volunteers gave me Mardi-Gras beads, joked about the cherry vodka-blue-marshmallow drinks they'd be serving later. It was fun.


When I went to pick up my number for a recent 15k in Central Park, I got SCREAMED at my NYRR volunteers when in the registration room. Screamed. I was putting on my Dtag while waiting in line - apparently, I could wait there doing nothing, but not put on my Dtag. I left the room. I did not want to deal with this.


NYRR raised the price of the NYC Half-Marathon to $117. Assuming I don't have to travel for work, I plan on running a 50 miler the following week for $69. Pay almost twice to run nearly a quarter of the distance? Yes, the course is fast. Yes, they have to shut streets down. Yes, they have to pay cops and security, and yes, don't forget appearance fees for top runners. But really? Do I really want to?


Honestly - I've gone back and forth a bunch of times in my head. I don't have to travel. (Though I generally don't fly for anything less than 50miles.) It's close. It's easy. Lots of friends will come. Probably not my parents. But still. My whole running club! But the principle...and $117.


I have a few hours left. I probably won't sign up, but NYRR, when did you start being so expensive and stop being so much fun?


Maybe it's that I discovered another world, ultrarunning, with its casual laid-back atmosphere and cheaper fees (I've paid less for 100milers than I have for the NYC Marathon and I get a lot more out of a 100miler - tons of food, gear, fun, and a helluva lot more pain!).

But maybe, really maybe, things have changed...

"The" Marathon

If you live in a little city called New York, when people talk about "the" marathon, as if there were just one marathon in the world, they're referring to the New York City Marathon. I've run it six times, had a blast every time, but I must confess:

I'm done.

Oh, sure, I say this. I wouldn't mind running it just one more time, maybe next year, and trying to break 3:25 or even 3:20, old goals of mine. I was close - but not quite there. But now I feel SO far...so much slower.

I stopped doing marathons because they're hard to allow other things into your life, or, in my case, the other things being ultras. I have a ton of endurance; I can run farther than most people, but that speed...kind of died off. I do speed workouts, but they're not quite the same as it used to be when I was a 3:28 marathoner.

Last year, two weeks after doing Javelina, a race where I was incredible pain, crying, hallucinating, crawling much of the last 40 miles (Okay, I wasn't literally crawling, but...), I had intense swelling. (Cankles!) I spent a good bit of time getting a massage, but my legs were still not back to normal by the time THE marathon rolled around, so I decided I'd have fun. I wore a pink running skirt with pink feathers covering the bottom, and ran, chatting with friends through various points of the race. ("So do you think this means he likes me? I mean, I bring my laundry to his house in NJ?" "Leslie, I do think so!"), enjoying the day. But I didn't have IT in me. I didn't have that burning desire. It didn't feel like much of a massive accomplishment. I had finished a 100 miler in agony, over 100 miles actually, and the marathon, despite my second-slowest time, still was nowhere near as hard.

So I decided to take a year off.

Sometimes, your decisions really bother other people. Everyone keeps asking me. "So where can I watch you run THE marathon this year?" Nowhere, actually. Unless you want to see me hand water out - then, come by mile 12. I'm going to wear a bright pink shirt so my friend Nelson can see me. "Why won't you do THE marathon?" I'm not feeling it. Is that a good enough reason? "It's too short for you." Well, it is short, but that's actually nice. I mean, done in 3-4 hours? Sweet!

(And then there's the conversation I loathe:
Me: I run.
Person: Oh. What do you run?
Me: I run ultras, 50 mile, 100 mile races.
Person: Wow. That's crazy. That's incredible. I can't even 1 mile.
Me: Yeah...
Person: Have you ever done THE marathon?
Me: Yes, I've done it six times. That's only 26.2 miles. But yeah, I've done it. I like ultras better though.)

People get obsessed with THE marathon. I know, because I was super obsessed. It was the one day where people celebrated ME. My parents would come in and watch me at three spots, my mom lugging around homemade cookies and bars and brownies in a backpack. My sister even came one year. My boss would show up with a sign or a pompom. (How many people can say that of their boss? YAY!) My coworkers would be out there with bells. My friends would be cheering me on. Every year, people would witness me doing what I love most: RUNNING.

But running on roads isn't as fun. It hurts. It tears your body up more than running on trails. The crowds are nuts. The logistics of THE marathon (getting up super duper early, the corrals, everything) are stressful and a pain.

But the crowds cheering you on rock.

I'm torn, really. I'm part of a running club where everyone is 100% obsessed. It's like there's no other race at times.

I'm really excited about running the Cajun Coyote 100 Miler in December. But I think, "Maybe I should've tried one more year..."

I secretly want to try to qualify the last year I'll be able to qualify with a half-marathon time; maybe train faster in January-March, hopefully being able to once again, smash 1:37 like it's nothing. And if I did that, automatic entry. And then I'd give myself one more try to break 3:25.

But that's a lot of speed. Not as much time on the trails. Not as much time out there for long. Can ultras and marathons cooperate? I don't know. Can ultrarunners be marathoners? Sometimes. But I don't know what I want.

When I think of why running makes me happy, I remember the Iroquois Trail 50 Miler, when I was running FAST FAST FAST, up and down, on these absolutely gorgeous trails, enjoying the moments, pushing, pushing, pushing, fast, fast, oh look at the leaves, up, down, amazing, runners' high...

I have less of those moments in the dirty NYC streets...

It's a conflict I have within me, but I'll see if I can break through.

That's Just the Way It Is Sometimes

Tired, but feeling better after good conversations, carrying bags and heading home to the cat, I stuck the key in the lock when we were approached by a guy riding a small, nice fixed gear bike. He was trying to sell us this bike at 1:30 in the morning - for $20. A bike that could be worth $500.

"It's a nice bike, isn't it? Only $20," the guy said as I jammed my key into the mailbox key with the front door halfway open, Wayne looking at the bike.

"Yeah, but I don't know where it came from," Wayne told him.

"Oh, I had it for a week."

Bullshit. You're trying to sell a bike that's easily worth hundreds for $20 after one in the morning - something is up.

After we got upstairs, I felt this sickening pool of disgust in the pit of my stomach. I felt bad for the person whose bike was stolen (as it oh-so-obviously was), and what it was stolen for (probably drugs - $20 for such a bike is crazy and they must be desperate for money and to get rid of the stolen goods), when Wayne said to me, "I should have bought that bike."

I thought he was crazy for a moment. It was stolen. Bad karma. But then he continued.

"I should have bought that bike and listed it on Craigslist and returned it to its owner."

And if only all bike stealing stories had such beautiful endings.

6 Day/10 Day Sri Chinmoy Transcendental Races

This isn’t really a race report, since I didn’t run it. However, I visited it four times, was blown away and overwhelmed and inspired, so I wanted to capture that experience and examine my desires to do this race.

Some people feel like a marathon is a major life accomplishment. It truly is. But after you do a few, you realize, yeah, it’s tough, but you want more.

Challenge me more. Try to break me – you won’t.

So you do an ultra.

A 50k. Then a 50 miler. Then a 100 miler. Then you’re going for time. Sub 24 hours. Sub 22 hours. Sub 20 hours.

You push yourself beyond your limits.

Everyone’s impressed. You’re seen as hardcore. Your legs are tough; you lift more weights on the lower body machines at the gym than the tough-looking steroid guys that sweat all over it (and forget to wipe it off) before you hit it up. You are proud of yourself, admire your body when you look in the mirror, feel like a seven-hour run in the technical trails of Bear Mountain in the pouring rain is normal.

But there’s more.

Multi-day races. Sometimes, you’re carrying a pack. Sometimes, you’re crossing a desert, a stream, a volcano.

Sometimes, you’re running a loop – in this case, a 1 mile loop. For six days. Or ten days. In Flushing Meadows Park, Queens, right next to our beloved LIE, Van Wyck, Grand Central. And here – this is where you really push past ego. This is where all the hard work pays off. This is where you dig deep into your mind. And this is where you prove to the world – even if that’s not your goal – that you are hardcore.

Ray K. was running the six day. Mark Dorian was running the ten day. They both were in good spirits every time I saw them, moving, smiling, telling stories, proving how amazing they were, showing me what ultrarunning legends they are. I went out there Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, to support them – and saw the changes in them, saw how strong they worked.

I was inspired.

I was impressed.

I was in awe.

The race is a pretty loop – though you do run right next to the LIE – by a lake, on pavement. I can see how the little turn-around (kind of an out and back at one point, just before you go into the entrance) could be a little frustrating – but I could also see the pleasure in how easy it could be to shut yourself off. How you could just push and push beyond what you think is normal – how you can tap into a deeper part of yourself or the world and reach a higher state.

But then again, I didn’t run it, and maybe it’s just pain.

(But no, I don’t believe that.)

Some people say it’s spiritual. Others say it’s painful. Others (like Ray the K), say it’s a blast.

I think it’s probably all of those things, sometimes at once.

In life, I wish to go beyond the ordinary. I don’t want the white-picket fence 2.3 kids dog in the yard casserole dish on the formica table houses all looking exactly the same. That’s why this was so appealing. Living in a dorm for 6 or 10 days, clothing piled on a table, endurolytes, pain pills, layers, multiple pairs of shoes in various sizes, some with the toes cut out, and even dog food…It is a simpler, yet more complicated life.

I found many aspects of the race appealing. The proximity to my home means if I did do this race, I could have friends, family, coworkers come and visit me, pace me. I also don’t have to spend money to travel. The race is affordable - $450 for the 6 day, $650 for the 10 day. (“That’s cheaper than a hotel,” Wayne pointed out to me.) It’s well-organized. The people are friendly. The food – and there’s a lot of it – is supposed to be really good. I can shut off. I can push. I can see what I’m capable of. I can run more in 6 days than many people run in a month, a year, their lifetime.

Sure, the pavement…the nearby highway…how painful it must be…but I think this would be a great way to test my mental tenacity. To see how physically tough I really am.

Yes, I could see myself out here next year – hopefully with Ray K. at my side, telling me stories. I could see my running friends visiting me as midnight, as I had visited Ray K., laughing, bringing me ice cream, bringing me good foods. And I can see myself falling apart, I can see myself crying, I can see myself hobbling – but more important, I see myself with a big smile as I cross the finish line, 100% stronger.

new york, new york, first love of my life

I get weird sometimes. I used to call it New York-itis. Before, when doing some organizing for my trip, I panicked, thinking of all the things I'd miss. Miss drinking tea with Rachelle, walks in frigid Williamsburg, parties, family, friends, obviously B, races.

But no, I'm heading to Central America. I'm going to be surfing, swimming, practising my Spanish, meeting amazing new people, hiking, writing, thinking, taking long walks, and best of all, being with my love in Nicaragua.

Now, I'm running around like a typical New Yorker: five million things to do, cramming everything/everybody in. Sleep, yeah, I can cut that out. Tomorrow I have work, mom's Xmas gift shopping, Trish over to help me pack & drink, NBR drinks, Burning Man Decom Party (and what will I wear, oh my) and Saturday is NBR run, SantaCon, Jessica in town, Sunday's the craft fair, maybe mom & dad, Iliana sleeping over, maybe Jess too and her little baby...there's just too much going on. Sometimes I can't stand it. Sometimes I want to live in some quiet little town, do my runs, write, practise yoga, read...just get inside myself more.

Regardless, this is a great song, and this is a hilarious parady of my beloved city.

I Run the Neighborhood...Or Ghetto Runs Much Preferred to Running Through Riches

Just got back from an amazing run where I ran past several projects throughout Brooklyn. Some people I know are scared or shocked; "You run through the projects?" Yup. It's not those fears you have; it's full of yes, low-income housing, poor people, but full of friendly faces, hellos, smiles at me singing while I'm running, cute boys winking, little kids squealing, fire hydrants blasting. I'm welcomed, mostly. Sure, sometimes I get the stares, the "whatcha doin here, white girl?" but mostly, it's just accepted - another person doing their thing.

I've run through rich neighborhoods and hate it. I've asked for directions in wealthy Long Island towns to get that snotty-look-down-the-nose. People see a sweaty runner and shudder. "Darling, just looking at that runner made me sweat. Off to the spa now - must deep cleanse myself." Running through the Upper East Side and Midtown East on forty-plus mile runs never is fun. Running through Harlem before that, yes.

And the music's better - I heard "Just a Friend" by Biz Markie at 6am in projects in Williamsburg. I've danced in splashing fire hydrants with ten year olds. I've blown kisses, given the finger, asked for cups of water, screamed with delight, moaned with pain, just felt more alive.

City running's nothing like trails but I must admit, when I'm forced to do it (which is most times I run), I enjoy the diversity of some of the less wealthy neighborhoods - and the diverse reactions.

Santacon 2009

Santacon is a day where thousands of people dress like Santa, and roam the streets of NYC, heading to bars, bowling alleys, parks, art studios, subways and more to share in holiday cheer -- candy canes, gift givings, and yes, lots of drinking.

Holding up a bad elf in Washington Square Park

 

Me & Rachelle in the East River Park. Rachelle was a snowflake.

 

 Me, Rachelle & Ricola Girl (People dress up like everything!)

 

(Mexican Santa and me at The Danger party)

 

Pimp Claus

 Which way to the North Pole?

 Santas in the East River Park

Walking Christmas Tree

figuring things out

Sometimes, it takes illness to put things into perspective. In the pain, I try to focus beyond, but other things are no longer blurred.

My life has been complicated, but most people's are. I feel happy that my rough patch is ending soon, and am learning to redefine myself. (You know how when you travel you constantly redefine everything around you and who you are? I'm doing that without leaving my city.) My doctor forbid me to run (Well, she said, "Stay off your feet," so I'm pretty sure today's 20 miler would be verbotten. Last time this happened, when I asked her if I could run, she yelled at me so loud everyone in the waiting room heard me.), and I know I can't always rely on running to pull me through. During all I have recently suffered, I related to my friend last night, maybe there was some sort of relationship between running and quality of my past relationship. Perhaps some mathematician has determined this? I'll have to ask the ultra list.

I haven't been sleeping enough but I have been asking lots of questions. I've been snuggling with my cat, knitting, dancing, giving hugs to complete strangers, throwing flower petals, rejuvenating friendships on the city streets. I've been writing, looking at what's next, letting the road take me, spreading the love of within. I'm happy how things are figuring themselves out next. I love the scene I'm a part of in NYC - the parties, the running, the secrets. I know this city isn't for me for forever, but there's so much here for me to explore and discover.

In honour of Jessica, here's the song that really wants to make me dance lately.

i cannot take this weather anymore

i know compared to some areas of the country (the midwest, buffalo), i have nothing to complain abt. but i'm so freaking sick of the sub-freezing temps, the snow, the ice. it's horrendous. i'm on the verge of crying, "let's just move to retirement central, t!" and live in my parents' retirement condo in florida. seriously, it's so freaking cold, it's depressing, i've eaten soup more times since i've been back that it's nearly every meal (with oatmeal for breakfast), and running in the snow and ice is so sad and cold. i want to experience WARMTH. if new york city didn't have winter, it would be the perfect place to live. seriously.

just for fun!

i am in the top 11.7% of all marathoners in sunday's nyc marathon, top 4.9% of women, and top 3.0% of those in my age group (20-29, women AND men!). yay!

nyc marathon 2008: 3:32!!!

this photo is of me after grabbing some pretzels at mile 8. yum. my tummy was a wreck before then (which is not a good thing!)

this year's new york city marathon was exciting! it always is. i felt a little nervous since i've been training for longer races (i have done three ultras since late june!), and thus, running slower, but apparently the longer races really prepped me. mentally, it was easier. after twenty minutes of running, my stomach started hurting, and i thought, "well, only about three more hours of running." ultrarunning preps you so that marathons seem like short runs. pretty crazy.

the race day started out cold. i was nervous b/c i hadn't had a BM in a few days. (does this seem like a dangerous dan entry? hah!) i wasn't feeling too hot, but was cheered by mark and shawn on the ferry. we stretched together, and then i left them as i was an orange start -- starting on the upper left of the verazzano narrows bridge (staten island).

i was hanging out with a group of australian runners (more than 50% of nyc marathon runners are from other countries), chatting about the race, about what we would drink afterwards. we all nervously chatted during the star spangeled banner (and the sound kept going in and out) and all of the sudden, the gun!

"we started?" i shrieked to the ozzies.

"i guess so!"

the start was below 40; i ran across the bridge in a thick ugly powder blue fleece. shortly after i emerged from the bridge (panting, it was pretty tough on the uphill), i tossed it to an eager spectator with outstretched arms.

brooklyn. 4th avenue. the bands. the spectators. cheering. little kids with their hands out. people already standing there with boxes of bananas (which seem revolting to me while running). my stomach started hurting, but i thought, "ah, a half hour passed, just three more hours."

there are over 2.5 million spectators in this race, so it's an absolutely amazing race for any runner to do -- whenever you feel down, there's someone yelling, "go PINK! GO PINK!" it's an absolute blast. there's the band that plays the rocky theme song repeatedly as the marathoners go by.

i saw my boss at mile 7, and then my parents and friends were at mile 8. i turned onto lafayette in fort greene, my favourite place of the race. it's early enough where you are still fresh and feeling good and pushing yourself, with tons of people, great music (an amazing african drumming group really pushed me), and oh yeah, TONS of obama fans!

turning onto bedford is always an experience. the hasidic jewish people ignoring the runners, a woman walking across the street with a stroller, acting oblivious. quickly we entered latino williamsburg (yay! always great cheering!) and then hipster williamsburg. soon, into greenpoint, MY hood! i felt great, esp when i saw rachelle.

long island city was great b/c gwendolyn was there with a hot pink sign -- lovely surprise! i was ecstatic. my stomach throughout was bothering me, but i kept forcing myself to eat and drink and take endurolytes and drink gatorade.

i felt good on the bridge. i have done hill repeats on the bridge many times, but on marathon sunday, ugh, i really felt the incline. once i got to the top, i pushed myself down.

and onto 1st avenue!

1st avenue gives you goosebumps. you'd have to be dead to not get them, so says one famous runner. there are people so thick the people in the back can't see the course, but everyone is screaming, holding signs, going nuts. bars and restaurants hold marathon brunches, people are hanging out of windows. it's amazing. my stomach really started hurting me, but i forced down another gel and pushed on.

at 90th st, i saw my coworker john who went absolutely nuts. it really cheered me up. a block later, crista and tray and my parents. i got some gummy bears, forced them down, kept going.

on the willis avenue bridge, i decided, "i will not let the bronx get me down." and i didn't. i kept pushing.

i saw sin-d walking her little dog and it totally cheered me up. i grabbed an orange from someone. i kept going.

my stomach hurt me. i ran in harlem, cheering on the obama fans, them cheering me on. great music. passed a bunch of people.

saw the fam again just before i entered central park. in the park, i really started to get emotional.

"i won't run 3:25 [my goal] but i'll def PR." i kept pushing myself.

i passed people, i soaked in the screams and the cheers.

and i finished in 3:32! i was so emotional i almost started crying. immediately, i felt dizzy and a volunteer walked with me, but soon i recovered. i downed a bottle of water, and met my mom (with a magic cookie bar; thanks, mom!) after seeing shawn. it was so great.

after, we all gathered at my apt to eat food, drink sangria, and talk running. and those are my favorite things in life.

i heart new york

lately, i've been pondering living other places. it might be nice to run for hours on trails that are mere minutes to run to, or to have a variety of farmer's markets, or to bike everywhere sans pollution, or to take post-dinner strolls along the dream. pipe dreams, perhaps. everyone who knows me knows i'm a new york city girl. still, i can dream....and one day, i will escape the city!

here are some reasons why i love new york:

• i skip up wall street, listening to paul van dyk, feeling great, and i'm sure someone other than me is smiling
• the man walking past me skipping on wall street who is in the middle of the street, waving his boxing gloves around
• whatever you want -- english sweets, obscure running snacks, dog food bakeries -- nyc has it
• amazing food -- cupcakes, indian food, any kind of cuisine, and often for cheap
• walk on a new street and discover a new life
• the attitudes. i love the ego sometimes -- i saw a man last week wearing a shirt that had an arrow pointing up to his face, saying, "THE MAN." an arrow pointing down said, "THE LEGEND." i love it.
• my running friends. they sustain me.
• close proximity to my fam.
• brunch! my favorite meal of the week keeps getting better and better, esp when served with (unlimited!) mimosas!
• not too far from the beach; not too far from the country; not too far from the suburbs
• fantastic shopping
• great fun free events
• amazing djs and musicians are constantly in nyc
• nothing like xmas in nyc!
• the diversity of people, thought and ideas. i hated the whiteout of boulder.

one day i'll be gone, running on lovely trails and enjoying the beach daily, but until then, i'm a new york city girl.

42 baby!!!!

i ran 42 miles yesterday. it was not easy....towards the start, i was having a lot of difficulty with my asthma and had to stop at a mile to rest my lungs. i did not think that was a very good sign, and persevered, slowly. i continued, and ran over the 59th st bridge into central park, where a race was to begin shortly. i passed the runners warming up, and exited the park at good old 110th st. i ran through morningside park, and then cut over to riverside park, running along the park and streets until i got to the george washington bridge. on the bridge, i saw a guy with fantastic abs, feet stuck under the railing, doing stomach crunches...yes, only in new york.

in jersey, i headed to the pallisades park, and enjoyed running on some pretty trails along the hudson. i was completely alone, passing only one other runner, and almost felt scared at times. i had my mobile phone in the front pocket of my fuel vest in case i needed to call 911, and the pallisades was RIGHT there, so i'm sure it wasn't too dangerous.

hanna stayed away for most of my run, but the last hour, the rain came down strong. i was over by bloomies, crossing madison avenue, and a guy saw me and i just laughed and held up my hands. and he did the same.

i arrived home, completely soaked. i immediately stripped (ooooh!) my stinky clothes (ugh!) and showered. i made a protein smoothie (yum) and headed on the train to my mom's. i was so rushed after i didn't get a chance to pat myself on the back -- lately, it seems like no one supports my running. people are annoyed at how much time i spend running or worry about me, but i'm so proud of myself. even back in april, the thought of doing 42 miles was daunting. now, i know i can handle it.

i can't wait for the VT 50 miler!

r.i.p. kitty genovese

i heard that the man that murdered kitty genovese in kew gardens over 40 years ago is up for probation. she's the woman that inspired the first verse in this phil ochs song--as she was being murdered, dozens of neighbors heard, but no one acted to help her. sad--our society can be so insular, selfish and harmful.

Outside Of A Small Circle Of Friends
By Phil Ochs

Look outside the window, there's a woman being grabbed
They've dragged her to the bushes and now she's being stabbed
Maybe we should call the cops and try to stop the pain
But Monopoly is so much fun, I'd hate to blow the game
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends.

Riding down the highway, yes, my back is getting stiff
Thirteen cars are piled up, they're hanging on a cliff.
Maybe we should pull them back with our towing chain
But we gotta move and we might get sued and it looks like it's gonna rain
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends.

Sweating in the ghetto with the colored and the poor
The rats have joined the babies who are sleeping on the floor
Now wouldn't it be a riot if they really blew their tops?
But they got too much already and besides we got the cops
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends.

Oh there's a dirty paper using sex to make a sale
The Supreme Court was so upset, they sent him off to jail.
Maybe we should help the fiend and take away his fine.
But we're busy reading Playboy and the Sunday New York Times
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends

Smoking marihuana is more fun than drinking beer,
But a friend of ours was captured and they gave him thirty years
Maybe we should raise our voices, ask somebody why
But demonstrations are a drag, besides we're much too high
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends

Oh look outside the window, there's a woman being grabbed
They've dragged her to the bushes and now she's being stabbed
Maybe we should call the cops and try to stop the pain
But Monopoly is so much fun, I'd hate to blow the game
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends

[ Additional verse, 1974]

Down in Santiago where they took away our mines
We cut off all their money so they robbed the storehouse blind
Now maybe we should ask some questions, maybe shed a tear
But I bet you a copper penny, it cannot happen here
And I'm sure it wouldn't interest anybody
Outside of a small circle of friends

snow

it's our first snowfall of the year. i woke up at 730am so i could get a good workout in (7 mile run, lifting weights at the gym, half hour on the cross-trainer) before the snow started. it started hours earlier than it was supposed to. i ran quickly but carefully on the white streets, taking care not to slip, enjoying the sound of snow falling..so many people were inside missing one of the few times that my neighborhood in brooklyn looks pretty...i truly got to appreciate it.

tired...running

i just came home from a 20 miler not too long ago. i haven't run 20 miles since before jay (and at jay i did 33 miles)--so it's been a month and a half since i've done any runs longer than 16 miles. i'm not sure what it was today, but i had SUCH a tough run today. mentally, i was so not ready, though i was excited. however, i got dizzy, had stomach issues. running around downtown nyc, past the artists and the stockbrokers and the hippies and the tourists and the lovers and the kids playing catch and the grandmas smoking tiny cigarettes and people eating delicious avocado sandwiches...i tried so hard to appreciate everything, but it was so hard. i ended up making lists in my head of good things about nyc, and practicing tonglen so i wouldn't suffer in my misery. but oh, how hard. i need to get back into it. i have a marathon in a month and a half, and an ultra, oh, sometime in nov or dec.