Santa Fe

I just did one of my famous wanderings tonight. I do them whenever I travel, and there’s often no purpose, no mission, simply to see the place I’m in. Or perhaps I decide to go someplace really far, and decide the walk will serve me a purpose. On my wanders, I think, I feel, I become much more in touch with what it is I really want after all.

It’s beautiful out here. So dry, and the altitude is ever-present. (As an asthmatic, I can never ignore that.) The running is wonderful. The first day I did a run where I fell in a brook more than once – and that was definitely the highlight. It went up and up, in a rolling way, and was a lovely downhill run on the way back.

We went on a moonlit hike that I thought to myself, “Iliana and I would love to run this!” It was lots of up, rocks, sand, lovely views. Of course, like any run Iliana and I would do, there were disasters. I dropped my shirt on a prickly pear cactus and spent much of the hike pulling thorns out of my skin. (For the record, I still have one in my finger. I can’t get it out. Also, I have to throw away my grey hoodie because they are ingrained in the fabric.) Then it got super dark on the way down, and the headlamp was in the car, and I was paranoid I was going to twist an ankle a few days before Javelina. Luckily there was lightning every so often (sarcasm here, though it did illuminate our path!) and thunder and a little rain too. We had to recover/celebrate with some Mai Tais at a bar where an older lady engaged me in a long interesting slightly drunken (on her end) conversation about fabric arts and fabric installations and clothes we sewed.

It’s been a good trip. Good in so many ways, full of love, but also, full of great running and this sense of peace. I am a bratty New Yorker in many ways (I like my good pizza and my chai and my awesome parties), but I really need to leave every so often to mellow out and be in touch with who I am. Also, the running is awesome elsewhere. One day I wonder if I’ll carry out my vision of living on a house on a dirt road where I can bike to my small-college-town library where I’m a librarian, and I write, and the beach isn’t far. Until then, I’m a New Yorker, escaping every so often for love and run.

Please Don't Kill Yourself. Life Gets Better. I Promise You.

I had a horrible experience in high school. The kids were so mean, horrible. Even my "friends." I talk to no one save my sister from high school. I have blocked out so many awful, painful memories. I wish someone told me these things when I was younger...that you shouldn't let bullying get to you. The kids were mean to me because I was different, creative, had pink hair, wore awesome crazy clothes, listened to riot grrrl and punk and electronica, had wild friends, didn't give a crap what they thought...but sometimes I did and then it hurt.

This video may make you cry. I wish I could have seen this 16 years ago. He is talking mostly about LGBT teens, but this really applies to any teen that has ever been bullied in a way. 


High school sucks. Real life is actually much better, despite paying bills, cleaning my house, and going to work. I don't mind being an adult so much of the time.

Packing List for Javelina Jundred!

I can't believe it's almost here! I ran Vermont, got sick in August and was in my Burning Man-prep-obsession time, then came back to my grandfather's death, too sad to run sometimes, decompressing, new relationship, Blue Cruise 50k. It's been a wild ride, these past few months. 

Javelina Jundred Time!

For the record, I'll be running in costume. It's running clothes covered in pink feathers - a great fun costume. A lot of the runners run in full costume, but you have to be comfy for a 100 miles, so it's a bit of a challenge!

I was supposed to fly out next Thursday but I just changed my ticket - I'm heading there, with Santa Fe on the way. So I leave tomorrow. I haven't packed at all, and the ultrarunner simply pulls out her old list that she's published many-a-time to remind her what to pack.

And maybe remind you?

• 3 sports bras
• 2 tank tops
• 2 running skirts
• 3 pairs of underwear
• 4 pairs of socks
• 2 sneakers (one is a half-size bigger, which will feel like heaven at mile 70!)
• thin long-sleeved shirt
• warmer running shirt
• two visors
• 2-3 pairs of gloves
• Sunscreen (spray on)
• baby wipes
• body glide
• packs of tissues (for when you gotta pee behind a cactus or a port-a-potty that of course, has no tp!)
• foradil (asthma medicine)
• albuertol (asthma medicine)
• 15 gels (though I never eat this many, just in case!)
• 12 sports chews (power gel strawberry blasts)
• 2 sports beans
• 30 endurolytes
• gaiters
• extra velcro for gaiters
• Hydration belt
• 2 water bottles
• 2 5-hour energy shot (one for drop bag at Mile 70, another for Mile 76 or 88)
• Ziploc bags
• sunglasses
• headlamps
• extra batteries
• Advil
• Imodium & tums
• mint
• for post race: sandals, fleece socks, comfy pants, warm hoodie, clean undies, t-shirt, flip flops
• Marker & tape & Post-it notes for Drop Bags
• 2 Drop Bags

 

To buy:

·         Coconut water

·         Pretzels

Being Pretty Is Not A Crime

I hate when, after a pretty woman complains about being harassed/hit on, people respond, "Well, you should feel flattered." Or, "You won't get it forever - and then you'll miss it."

Being pretty is not a crime. It should not make you a victim. I'm sick of the attitude that because a woman is pretty, she is there for male delight or gawking or being treated a certain way (i.e., as if she is not smart, a sex object, whatever).

Nothing wrong with looking good. I wear heels, eye makeup. But there's more than prettiness.

This post is really what inspired me to write about this, especially this: 

You Don't Have to Be Pretty. You don't owe prettiness to anyone. Not to your boyfriend/spouse/partner, not to your co-workers, especially not to random men on the street. You don't owe it to your mother, you don't owe it to your children, you don't owe it to civilization in general. Prettiness is not a rent you pay for occupying a space marked "female". 

UPDATE 10/13/2010: Reading Feministing today, I saw a great post, Why Do Strange Men Touch Me. I have had this happen to me before - ugh. Chloe says,
 
"He wanted to touch me, so I was going to be touched, by a stranger, whether I wanted it or not. What he wanted was more important than what I wanted, because he is a man, and I am a woman. Did he consider that his words and his gesture, perhaps intended to compliment, might mean something totally different to me? If he did, that didn’t stop him. What he wanted was more important than what I wanted, perhaps because we live in a world where what men want is more important than what women want. That is why strange men think they’re allowed to touch me – and any other women they feel like touching. It’s that simple."

The Strokes + Regina Spektor

You were right
Modern girls always have to go Right on time
Old-fashioned men always want a mistress You were right
Modern girls always get their way I was wrong
Modern men dream of what they can't say That's alright
(That's alright) I don't belong

I don't belong
Why you sitting over there?
Why you gotta say it
If you know it's sounding wrong
Says that he'll apologize
And it won't take too long Always thinking about yourself
You don't wanna trust nobody else Time
There's a few things
That are gonna have to change I'm your son
Everyone has the same opinion Won't you please
Your time is almost over Don't be mean
We won't get the chance to do this over
That's alright
(That's alright) I don't belong
I don't belong
Why you sitting over there?
I don't want the imprint of your key on my nose
We don't have to tell no one
Cause no one wants to know Always thinking about yourself
You don't have no happiness at home

Oh yes we're falling down
Oh yes we're falling down
Oh yes we're falling down
Oh yes we're falling down
You don't love me
Always thinking about yourself I am an animal
Always thinking about yourself I am not practical
Always thinking about yourself Was I?
Was I?

Back to Our Roots

Today I finally caught up with Nelson over tea. We sat in the sun and talked about how we're trying to go back to the core of who we are. I really feel like I lost a hold of myself a lot the past few years, and it's been a long journey to get back to who I am and what I'm about.  The conversation felt very comforting, as we were both trying to get down to the deep of things. Nelson's a great friend; he's like hot chocolate, delicious and comforting and full of great things, at the top (like whipped cream) and at the bottom (like that fudgy layer you scrape from the bottom with your spoon). His insights never stop, and always help me.

I'm taking submitting my novel to literary agents as another kind of job. "Don't think about the beautiful creative process," McCormick had advised me. "Think of it as a business. As something you have to do. Like a job."

So I'm submitting my novel. Once I get my grandma's antique secretary in here, I'll be using it to do my writing instead of this stupid computer cart I got seven years ago when I moved in here. Then, I'll move the cart to the bedroom and transform it into a sewing table with a fabric-top cover and I can't wait to start on some projects (which are a secret, since some of you getting these presents may be reading my blog!). I'm reading a ton, as usual, but trying to get ideas and read with a more critical eye. I'm trying to figure out travel plans (December is coming up soon - Central America or India? I can't decide. I've always wanted to go to India but I'll only have 4-6 weeks at the most...so Guatemala, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica might be a more do-able option.) I'm plotting for NaNoWriMo. I'm spending time with good friends. I'm cleaning my apartment, my head. I'm baking delicious food and using the local harvest at the farmers' market to get back into things. Lissy and I realized we haven't cooked since Papa died. There's been a lot of hummus and bread or going out to eat since I got back from Burning Man. So now I'm getting back to my cooking side of things.

And I'm drinking a glass of wine, enjoying this chill night. I'm going to submit to agents, maybe do a little sewing. Prep for tomorrow's 3 hour run. (How short!) Maybe prep a little for Chaos Cooking, figure out what I'll wear to the Post-Burn party and Rubalad. I just got back from a wonderful bike ride through Williamsburg, where I bonded with a fellow biker over the anti-bike car drivers (Yuck!) and also got told by some car that decided to drive my biking pace that I was "so beautiful, do you know how beautiful you are? You're beautiful." Hmmm, yes. Thanks. Speed ahead. Ahead.

And I feel so happy to be in a city where it's okay to be 31 and riding your bike around in an extremely short red polka dot miniskirt, singing "Outta Me" repeatedly. I think to my relatives and friends in the suburbs who can't believe my lifestyle. Yeah, it's a little ridiculous how much rent I pay (or actually, how little; I have a deal for Greenpoint but I can't afford anything else!) but I love being able to see awesome bands, great art, eat good food, be around like-minded creative people. I always say I want to move to the country and just chill, but really I'm a city girl. I love the trails, but the pulsing of the pavement sustains me.

Rumi Quote

"Don't turn away. Keep looking at the bandaged place. That's where the light enters you."

~ Rumi

The Joy Within Myself

After lots of thinking and self-reflection today, I met Jonathan to work on some of the business side of writing (aka sending my novel out to a bunch of agents) and talk about love, life, and librarianship. Jonathan and I talked about our respective new relationships, the excitement that came with it, the frustrations with publishing, our writing, our inspiration, our careers, while drinking hot cocoa in super-cute El Beit. I felt inspired and excited and hopeful - about my writing, about my love, about friendship, about life.

Riding home on my beloved purple bike, Mabel, I passed many other cyclists: girls in short skirts, guy in skinny jeans on skinny bikes, and me, in my thick fun tights, hair flying in the window, speeding straight ahead into a view of the beautiful NYC skyline of the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building. It suddenly struck me how LUCKY I am.


Recently, I've been through some rough patches...my grandfather passing away was a huge loss. Everything's not perfect in my life; I work for a great organization doing what I love - but I don't get paid nearly enough. (It's the love for what I do that keeps me going there. Nonprofits come with a price, and I'm glad I'm making a difference in the world.) My apartment is a little crazy right now, especially with all the dust bunnies (and occasional dead mouse, courtesy of my kitty!). I think of my friends in the suburbs, snug in their cozy houses and I think about what I want - is it that? And then I think about what someone said earlier today: "To move to the suburbs is to die."


My plans are faded, my future fuzzy. I'm just living day by day, striding towards excellence however I can. I'm excited about the Javelina Jundred in less than 3 weeks; I'm enjoying the magic of being in love; I'm hopeful about my writing; I'm loving my kitty; I'm loving Superchunk's new CD; I love living in a neighborhood where you can go to a cafe and write and then hit up a bar and then still get Thai food and then walk along the skyline, thinking about life and love and talking about how to make it all work. It doesn't make sense to so many, but it does to me. I'm in touch with everything good right now. This good mood - I don't know how long it will last, but I love it right now.

Blue Cruise 50k Race Report

Feeling rather unprepared for Javelina, and dreading another dull thirty/forty-something mile run on my own, I jumped on the chance to do the Blue Cruise 50k with Iliana. "It's just a training run," we said, but one where there would be other runners, new terrain, snacks (making it easier for us to carry less), water along the route, and the potential for many exciting things to happen (you know, faceplants, eating periogies while running, talking about underwear, getting stabbed with thorn bushes...).

The course sounded easier online than it was in person - there were some gentle rolling hills, but there were a bunch of steeper climbs that we walked up AND down. There was no grilled cheese served along route (Hey, part of the reason I jumped on the race!) and the lack of filling vegetarian food at the finish was as usual, appalling. However, we still had a blast.

The course had was out-and-back, so that provided some entertainment when the first runners turned around. However, the single track (Oh, how lovely! Most of the course WAS single-track!) proved difficult to allow two runners to pass at the same time. Luckily, Iliana and I weren't in a rush so we let people go by us.

I pushed Iliana a bit more on the hills than she would have liked, but our conversation pushed me along. At one point, two men said, "We're sticking with you! The pace is good and we LOVE the conversation." We talked about great running underwear (Patagonia Active Boy Shorts, I love you!), nice drug dealers, love, sex, the impossibility of online dating, ultrarunning, races, chafing, New York City, museums, baked goods, delicious food, driving, men, women, work dynamics, weather, pretty much everything you could possibly talk about. It kept us going.

In ultrarunning, you need to do these long runs. We didn't go as fast as we would have if we were racing, but we went faster than if we had run on our own. Sometimes, seeing someone else ahead, or hearing the heavy breath of someone close behind is enough to push you to run a little bit faster.

In the end, what did we have? A great time. Finishers' hats. Scrapes from thorn bushes. Dirt and cuts on the legs. Sweat. A sleepy drive back to NYC. And another fun 50k run under our belts. 

Counting down the days to Javelina...

Right now, there's less than three weeks to my third 100 miler of 2010, Javelina Jundred. This race takes place on the full moon weekend closest to Halloween (my favourite holiday!) and everyone wears Halloween costumes. My costume is still a secret, but let's just say it will involve a lot of pink!

I'm a little nervous about my training. I have missed some training due to illness in July, and due to my grandfather's death in September (including one 100k race (I ran the 50k instead), and one 50 miler). My weight lifting and cross-training has also slacked off a bit due to busy schedule, but hopefully, it's keeping me strong.

I'm trying to think about the logistics - I'm going to try to stick to a very basic diet of gus (not too many), Power Gel blasts, pretzels and coconut water, and keep Tums and Immodium on hand if needed. I'm thinking of things I can control - not the intense training I'd like to have. I'm thinking body glide, lubing up the feet to protect from the sand, and how rad it will be to have my pacer and one-time running partner out there, motivating me along. I'm thinking how fun people's costumes will be.

The packing list will, of course, be re-posted soon. The sleep will be gotten. The body hydrated. The legs, strong and rested. I'm ready for this. I'm ready for another challenge.

Every 100 miler is a challenge. Of course I have time goals, but we all know that 100s provide so many crazy obstacles you could never predict. I mean, how many times will we need to squat behind a cactus? What if I face plant and really hurt myself? Will my asthma behave? Will -

Yes, I'm going to kick butt. I'm thinking rockstar thoughts. I'm thinking speed. I'm thinking runners' high.

It's going to be a great race. 

Samskara

Sometimes, we need to look for the transformative moments in ordinary life.

This morning, Mike came out to the morning run I lead for NBR.  I told him a bit about what I've been going through, with my grandfather's recent death. I began explaining the difficulty I've had - including seeing the dead body hanging from a tree (covered with a white sheet) in Central Park and the funeral procession, and he said, "That's your samskara."

Knowing quite a bit of this from some Buddhist study I have done I realize I have been stuck in a rut of so many ways - the past many months have been about pulling myself out of it, and I've been tripping on the way out a bit. I don't want my life to keep cycling the same negative energy. I hope it isn't my karma to end up in these complicated, cyclical, directionless relationships, but I am working to ensure that doesn't happen again. I hope this suffering ends. I want to break free of this constant cycle of negativity, of death, of pain, of crying, of confusion, of indecision. Unfortunately, it's not always as easy as we would like it.

I'm not sure what I'm doing next. I'm trying to not jump ahead too much but enjoy each day, to live in the present moment. Run some races. Stay in love. Enjoy my family. Return to a more regular practice. Embrace the good people in my life. Distance myself from the bad. But what else must I do to break free from this?

Backtrack!

This week has been a return to my youth with a Superchunk Sunday and a Pavement show tonight! My friend Jamillah who I met at Lollapalooza (where I also saw both of these bands too!) just moved back to NY - and I'm going to get my keys from my friend Joe who I also met at Lollapalooza today. 

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.

Burning Man 2010 Recap

It was amazing. It was wonderful. It was thought-provoking, it was art, it was life, it was death, it was love, it was self-exploration, it was an ultramarathon. It was all of these things and more. How could it not be? It was Burning Man.

It was an amazing week - I camped with one of my best friends ever, Rachelle; Rachelle and I had a playa wedding (How could we not? She hammered my rebar, built me a shower, and didn't mind the explosion of sparkles everywhere.); I saw some amazing art; I rode around on my kick-ass fuzzy hot pink fake fur beach cruiser; I directed my first race ever, The Burning Man Ultramarathon; I PR'd in the Burning Man 50k with a time of 5:34 (woohooo!); I once again danced to Madonna while drinking Pickle Juice Martinis; I ate lots of pickles; I dealt with sunburnt lips; I ran around in next-to-nothing but not nothing because next-to-nothing is much more interesting; I danced at DeMentha while drinking mojitos; I saw old friends; I made new ones; I fell in love.

Decompressing is always hard, but this year it was the worst. Monday afternoon, upon receiving phone reception, I learned that my beloved grandfather had died the Thursday before. As I was falling in love, dancing at Burning Man, he was dying/had already passed. I cried inconsolably on the car ride home. My mom told me the other day, "I think he would have been happy that you were dancing. He always loved to dance." Good friends told me, "Maybe your grandfather is the reason you fell in love...maybe he instilled his spirit into Burning Man to ensure you found love." Whatever it was, I am trying to hold onto his beautiful memories while going forward with the amazing ones that I will continue to create with my love.

\

 

Publish Post

I should hope he is now a star...

From the rather lovely sympathy card my boss sent me after my papa died:

In one of the stars
I shall be living
In one of them
I shall be laughing
And so it will be
as if all the stars
were laughing
when you look
at the sky at night.
--The Little Prince, Antoine de Saaint-Exupery 

Burning Man Ultramarathon - Race Report and Results!

From a dream to reality...the Burning Man Ultramarathon actually happened, and with only a few hitches!

From what started of a dream of mine turned into a reality. At least 37 runners started the race, and 31 finished! The race results show how people worked together across the playa. I ended up running much of the races with Michelle and Jeff, and it was Jeff's first ultra! Others ended up making new friends, while some simply tore across the desert like it was any other ultra - not one in the middle of one of the wildest weeks of the year.


Burning Man is an annual arts and music festival of radical self-reliance in the Black Rock Desert in Nevada. From a desert surface (aka "the playa") where nothing exists a city is built, art is installed, and absolute freedom of self-expression rules. Indulging in drugs and alcohol are not abnormal, though many of the runners said, "Why do drugs when you can get the ultimate high - runners' high?"

No money is exchanged, gifts are given freely, nudity and costumes are the norm, and you can be whoever you truly are. Hosting an ultramarathon was only natural; you'd have to be crazy to spend a week in the harsh uncomfortable desert, covered in body glitter, but to run an ultra in that climate? You'd have to be truly insane! So of course we needed an ultra!


The original email sent out via the Burning Man "Jack Rabbit Speaks" list started, "Are you batshit crazy?" I got a lot of emails from people who said, "I'm batshit crazy! Sign me up!" With about 100 acceptances on Facebook and 60+ via email (many of those duplicates), a good field of runners was assured.


Despite amazing parties the night before, most runners headed to bed to snag a few hours sleep (difficult at a place where "art cars" loaded with speakers and hyper participants keep the noise levels up). Runners met at The Man for a 5am start.

The weather was rather chilly at the start - probably in the upper 40s/very low 50s. However, as the last runner finished, temperatures were in the upper 80s/low 90s. There were no dust storms (a concern when planning the race, as dust storms can make visibility impossible and breathing difficult) and everyone was delighted with conditions. Footing was a little uneven at times, with flat alkaline sand as the terrain.


The first loop was quite dark as runners headed out from The Man to the Perimeter Trash Fence. Runners hit an aid station just after mile 1, and hit the aid station again once each 6+ mile loop. Runners ran straight along the fence, turning at a marked spot (that some runners missed, especially in the early morning dark - next year we'll put glow sticks here!), then hit the edge of Black Rock City. Runners ran past popular dance clubs, into the city, past the Medical Station, and then along Esplanade, Black Rock City's Main Street. People who had not gone to bed yet were shocked and amazed and impressed at what we were doing: "You're running?" "You're getting enough exercise for both of us!!" "You're doing that ultramarathon? You're insane! Insane!" "Stop running! Start drinking!" "You are awesome!" The cheers and offers from the crowd (for water, alcohol, and hugs) kept the runners smiling. After the Esplanade ended, runners headed straight back to the fence to make a loop of the course, and repeat.

The first runner, Ben Merchant, ran the race in a tutu with a giant smile. I also ran in a homemade tutu, and other runners ran in codpieces, capes, tiny briefs, and lots of body glitter. The attire was a mixture of ultrarunner and Burner.

There were some minor complications and confusions with the course; next year, we hope to have additional volunteers to point out directions and glow sticks to mark the course. Overall, it was an absolute blast. Many runners completed their first ultra, or got a PR on the course.

The race will definitely happen again next year - attendees simply need to come at 5am on the Wednesday during Burning Man (September 1st next year) to run 50k. Start training now, but most importantly, start preparing that fabulous running costume!

Decompressing

I am coming off the most amazing week at Burning Man to a real shocker and some horrible news - my grandfather has died. Papa was an amazing, wonderful man who I loved very dearly. Before I left, my mother hinted at her true worries. Not only did I miss saying goodbye to him (although no one but my grandma was with him at the end), but I missed the funeral. My parents, sister, cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone was down in Florida. They all toasted a shot of O'Doull's which he used to drink - he thought it was real beer which we didn't give him because he'd get drunk too quickly.

Oh, Papa.

One of the best things about him was his love for my grandmother. It would've been 62 years of lovely marriage - and they were so in love all those years. I can only hope that I could have the chance to be in love like that for so many wonderful years..

Decompression will be especially hard this year. I've done most of my laundry (piles of sparkles and tutus and fake fur dot my apartment right now, both clean and still dusty), have a few small piles of things to go through. I have many memories to deal with, some photos to process. Like all years at Burning Man, I find myself questioning the future of my life. Is this is? Is this what I want? Where am I going? Shall I hold his hand and close my eyes and jump straight in? (I'm going with yes on this one.)

I don't know anything. Tomorrow I'm going to head out for a long run to clear my head - maybe I'll go twenty miles, maybe fifty. I don't know. And then I want to cry out all the pain. On September 11th, overwhelmed, unable to contact Jessica, I ran. I ran. I run to deal with the pain sometimes. Right now all I want to do is curl up in a ball with my furball and cry into her fur. And because she's the only one around, and that seems like the best option right now, that's what I'm off to do.

I love you, Papa.

 

In Memory of My Grandfather, Who Died Thursday

“You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have truly lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love.”

—Harry Drummond


Foreign servicemen held no interest for Elizabeth Schmiko. In 1945, a friend invited Betty to a dance for foreign servicemen at the Museum of Modern Art. Betty declined. However, she called back her friend to reverse decision on the condition that another friend, Peasy could come to the dance as well.

At the dance, a young handsome soldier named Charles Russell found love with Elizabeth Schimko. A gentleman, Charles saw her home.

She told Charles that one of her beaus smoked a pipe. The next time they met, he was smoking a pipe. He later remembered, “It was disgusting. I smoked for about a month and that was all I could do.”

Charles was immediately smitten with Betty. Betty wasn’t so sure. Charles offered, “I love you,” to which the callous Betty would reply, “I love you like a brother.”

During their courtship, they would go to the movie theatre at Grand Central Station. They probably didn’t watch much of the movies, since they spent much of their time necking, which was “terribly fun.” They spend their lunch breaks together, talking and eating.

Prior to asking his love for her hand in marriage, Charles had to ask permission from Betty’s mother. Her mother didn’t particularly approve of the poor sailor with an accent she could not understand. He was excited to spend extra time at her house, but when he arrived to ask permission, Mrs. Schmiko had sent Betty out shopping. Mrs. Schimko was questioned him if he was making enough money to support Betty in a lifestyle similar to the one she was currently living (He wasn’t.) and questioned his intentions. Finally, she relented.


On New Year’s Eve December 31, 1946/New Year’s Day January 1, 1947, as the clock struck midnight, Charles proposed. She accepted.

An old sweetheart pursued Betty, even while she was engaged to Charles, and he was engaged to his fiancé. The old beau called Betty one last time. “If you want to break it off, say the word, and we can get married.” Betty declined.

They were married in September. They moved into the 3rd floor apartment of her mother’s house in New Rochelle.  He began to work for British Airways, and eventually, they moved out of the maid’s quarters to their house on Long Island.

They had four impossible children, and nine even more impossible grandchildren. They traveled, spent winters in Florida, and found the best Early Bird dinner specials.

Disorienting Lives

Last night, after running 50k, showering, and eating some food, I headed out to I Made An Art, my friend Sandy's party/art gallery opening/sock puppet making party/bands/intellectual minds gathering. It was a lot of fun. I saw some friends, made a sock puppet, I danced, I met some really amazing people.

I met this one guy who was an amazing painter. His two paintings drew me in more than anything else - so full of color and life. I stared at them and after a lengthy conversation with a random guy, was so pleased to learn they were his.

He was living in the country. We talked a lot abt his life vs. NYC life. He lives on a big plot of land with three (three!!) ponds.  He owns his house. He has no internet or TV (the latter I have, but the internet...that would be difficult for me), and two cats and a dog. He spends all his free time playing music or making art. He has jam sessions and potlucks every Thursday. He was a beautiful hippie soul.

I suddenly tried to imagine myself, and I could. I love all the stimulation, but living in the country - I could be writing all the time. I'd run twice a day on beautiful roads and trails. I'd take really long walks through fields of flowers. I'd make my own jams and grow a lot more fruits and veggies. I'd focus on writing, on living a pure and happy life.

But could I do it? Would I wilt in depression, suffering from boredom? Or would I get in touch with my true self?

After this intense, amazing conversation, I ended up going to the post-Disorient party and was dancing to DJ Sequoia. The music was so slamming I was jumping up and down, kicked off my shoes, and spreading all of my molecules of my being throughout the party, wrapped in love, glitter, and pure fun. I felt alive. I felt free. I felt complete.

Would I feel complete with three ponds? Do I feel complete living on a dirty Brooklyn street with a view of a garage proclaiming, "NO PARKING"? What do I want? I guess life is part of figuring that out.

Mahlon Mayhem

Sometimes, things we cannot control prevent us from accomplishing things we want to accomplish, and things we are capable of doing.

I signed up for the Mahlon Mayhem, determined to do the 100k as a training run for October's Javelina Jundred. I figured I'd take it easy, enjoy the day, have a good time, and get some good miles in. Unfortunately, my body disagreed.

Over a week and a half ago, I first noticed horrible stomach pains. The next day, I felt even worse and went home sick from worse. I could only sleep or couldn't sleep because of the pain, but found anything else (including eating, drinking, walking, running) near impossible. I went to the doctor and they did a ton of tests but were unable to determine anything. The next step is a catscan or sonogram of my abdominal area.

I was really hoping my stomach would feel better, well enough to run. I woke up at 1am before the race feeling absolutely nauseous. I wondered if I'd be able to run. I ate a simple bagel with a little butter for breakfast at 4am, and mostly felt tired.

Unfortunately, the stomach troubles started fairly early, maybe mile 3 or 4 or 6 - something like that. It was stabbing stomach pain, excruciating, sometimes queasiness. I tried to eat, but the only things I ate during the race were a few saletines, some gummi bears, and one gel. Nothing else sounded appetizing.

My friend Shannon was also feeling awful - she has some terrible little tumor-like bumps on the bottom of her feet and was in ridiculous pain so we stuck together - walking a lot, telling stories of ridiculous ex-boyfriends, races, coworkers, dreams of life. We pushed each other when we both wanted to just lie down at the side of the trail.

The course itself was great. It was a 7.5 mile loop (though those with GPS told me it was 8miles). You start out on single-track, lots of ups and downs and rocks but most of it was fairly runnable (with some lovely hills in there for us feeling-crappy runners to enjoy). Then you get to a rail trail and run out for maybe 2 miles - it was pretty, and at one point, Shannon and I saw a snake. Others apparently saw bears. Then you turn around at a mini-aid station (water, heed, pretzels, random other things) and head back on the rail trail another 2 miles. You're back on single track, hills, mud, prettiness. And then you get back to the main aid station, with an amazing buffet that only Rick is capable of - pretzels, oranges, watermelon, pbj, crackers, cookies, gummi bears, M&Ms, etc.

I felt so horrible that each step was agony. Shannon convinced me, "We'll do the 75k. Don't drop down to the 50k." By the fourth loop, she was in so much pain (as was I) that we mutually agreed to do the 50k.

When we finished, we were both relieved. My stomach continued to hurt and I felt more sad than anything. I don't know what's going on with my stomach, but I hope it's nothing serious. At least I got 50k in, some good time on a beautiful day on lovely trails getting to know Shannon even more (she's usually ahead of me), so it was a wonderful day after all. 

Why We Run Ultras

"... Perhaps the genius of ultrarunning is its supreme lack of utility. It makes no sense in a world of space ships and supercomputers to run vast distances on foot. There is no money in it and no fame, frequently not even the approval of peers. But as poets, apostles and philosophers have insisted from the dawn of time, there is more to life than logic and common sense. The ultra runners know this instinctively. And they know something else that is lost on the sedentary. They understand, perhaps better than anyone, that the doors to the spirit will swing open with physical effort. In running such long and taxing distances they answer a call from the deepest realms of their being -- a call that asks who they are ..."

- David Blaikie

Burning Man Ultramarathon - First Ever 50k in Black Rock City!

As the days get closer to Burning Man, I'm getting more and more excited about not just the amazing festival that is Burning Man, but also about the Burning Man 50k. Running an ultramarathon at Burning Man was a dream of mine since my very first Burn, and I am so excited that I will actually be doing it. In the beginning, I was worried it would just be me, Murray and Jon, but it looks like we'll have a solid crowd. There's 35 people who have sent in their RSVP full info to me, but 83 people on our Facebook page said they were going to do it!

This year, packing is an additional struggle b/c I'm including finishers' rewards, Heed, numbers, and other assorted supplies needed for the race. Also, I'll bring my fuel belt, some gels, extra endurolytes. And of course, what costume should I run in? I'm thinking my favorite tutu might be good (with some Saucony sneakers and a sports bra!) - and body glide everywhere that it can possibly go!


Yesterday, we got some unexpected media attention! Wired magazine picked up on it, and wrote an article (without reaching out to me), "Burning Man Readies for Its First Ultramarathon." So exciting! And now this additional media attention has a few more runners reaching out to me! We also got in another website, Blisstree, on "Burning Man Ultramarathon: Things We'll Never Do." They make it sound unappealing! Honey, this is nothing compared to Badwater or Marathon Des Sables (Sahara MultiDay).


One guy wrote me, saying he had always wanted to go...and now he's in the midst of a divorce and thinking abt it. I encouraged him to come, telling him my story. (Talking to God about how unhappy I was in my previous relationship; God gave me some great advice.) I told him he'd def get a lot of clarity into his life, his relationship, his future.

Burning Man is a week long party, yes, but it's also a lot more. I'm excited for those quiet moments I'll have - running around the playa in the ultramarathon, riding my bike to a friend's camp across the playa, wandering around in deep playa late at night to look at art...I know I'll get a lot more clarity abt what I want and need and what I'm looking for. I know, but it will also provide the necessary motivation for me to move forward. Funny, it has a reputation as being a place for drugs, but this year, Burning Man will be attracting a new group of addicts: endrophin junkies.

Training Run at Bear Mountain!

My girls and I went for a great 4.5 hour run at Bear Mountain. There were stomach aches, hills, great views, more hills, tripping, peeing behind bushes, mud, freaking out about running out of water, talking about the deliciousness of chocolate Accelegels (that was all me, on the chocolate Accelegels...like pudding, I tell you!), talking about boys, and stupid men, and bad dates, and good dates, and what we did last night...Andrea and I were collectively on less than 2.5 hours sleep, but we substituted some caffeine for sleep, and all that dancing I did the night before - I'm pretty sure it's what propelled me up those hills.

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