sempre libera

Not gone, just moved

2009-05-07T15:53:00.003-04:00

It's pretty obvious by now that I'm not coming back to this blog anytime soon... I didn't drop it for any particular reason, I simply lost the initiative (and the discipline) to post regularly. A lot has happened since then -- I lost my job, got a new one, and made the decision to go to grad school this fall (for a Master's in Public Policy). I've also grown into some wonderful new friendships, and a serious relationship, and, well... life happens that way :-)

I'm not dead

2007-11-19T22:43:00.000-05:00

I've actually been back in NYC for almost a month now, but it's been so insanely busy that I haven't had time to finish writing about my trip. (Though the photo album is almost done.) Soon, soon.

In the meantime, here's a picture of me playing goddess/statue at the top of the Acropolis, which overlooks Bergama, near the end of the trip. Photo courtesy of Clemens and Gerd, the two German guys from my hotel who so graciously drove me up there and then kept me thoroughly entertained for the rest of the day.

(And yes, the weather was that perfect for 99% of the trip.)

Selçuk, Oct 15 - 17

2007-10-17T12:48:00.001-04:00

And now we return to the present, where İ currently find myself just over the two-third mark of my vacation / journey / adventure. İ have so much more to tell beyond the things İve done and the escapades İve had -- thoughts about the Turkish people, about Turkish food, about traveling alone, about traveling alone as a woman in a (pretty liberal) Muslim country, about not understanding a word of what anyone says around you, just to name a few -- but for tonight İ think it will be enough to catch up on these posts and maybe make a small dent in the small mountain of emails eagerly awaiting my attention.

On Monday İ arrived in Selçuk, a small (25000 people) town mostly notable for its proximity to one of the most legendary sites of the Greek & Roman empires: Ephesus (called Efes in Turkish)! İ hopped off the bus around midday, dropped my stuff off at the hotel around the corner from the bus station, and ignored the quizzical look from the (otherwise really friendly) guy at the desk (youre sure you dont want a tour?). No, I wanted to get on with it! :-) İ decided to walk there, and take the "long" way (5km) to the top gate. After the requisite confusion and disorientation -- İ dont have the best sense of direction, to say the least, and it doesnt help that in Turkey you can rarely tell what street youre on anyway because there are hardly any signs -- İ finally set out in what İ was reasonably sure was the right direction. After about 15 minutes walking along the shaded sidewalk by a new highway, İ followed the signs and turned right onto a two-lane road and strolled the rest of the way under the shade of mulberry trees and accompanied only by the sound of the birds and bees (and the occasional motorcyclist offering me a ride). Finally, I was there -- and it was every bit as magical as İ had imagined. Ruins, ruins, and more ruins, not a lot of statues because theyre all in the local museum, but just enough of them and of old cornices and bits of friezes to help you imagine the grandeur of the city that once housed St. John the Baptist and countless great thinkers and some really rich Roman people. İ was there until it closed and then hopped the dolmuş back into Selçuk, exhausted.

The next morning İ set out on another walk to the Basilica of St. John, an old Classıcal and Byzantine ruin of a thing (only a few of the walls and columns remain) that boasts the tomb where he was supposedly buried. The baptismal font, shaped like a cross, faces Rome in one directıon and Jerusalem in the other (or so İ overheard one of the French guides telling his crew... I may not do many tours but İm not ashamed to eavesdrop on them, hehe). Next door is the 14th-century İsa Bey Camii (mosque), where İ was both amused and upset by a tour guide who was telling her Western European group about Muslim women, about their headscarves and the separate prayer sections (in the back of the mosque). On the one hand she was right to point out that these customs are not dictated anywhere in the Koran -- but it also made me upset that she seemed to suggest that it was ok to break them or counter them, or that they were worth less, because İ believe there is a tremendous value to tradition and it is also not our place, as visitors, to barge in and tell others that we dont agree with what theyre doing (evident human rights violations aside). Something to think about, I guess...

Anyway, the day, though chilly, was too nice to spend inside so İ scrapped my original plans to see the statues in the Efes Museum and instead hopped a dolmuş to Şirinçe, an impossibly picturesque, tiny little village nestled into the hills outside of Selçuk among the grape vines (the wine here is great) and olive trees. İ spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around aimlessly and enjoying several servings of gözleme (a Turkish cross between a pancake and a crepe), which is quite possibly my favorite food here. To top off the gastronomical extravaganza, İ came back to Selçuk as the sun set and, heeding the advice of a carpet-seller İd been chatting with earlier that day, hit up a local joint for some of the best, juiciest, most delectable chicken kebap İ have ever tasted. In fact, thats where İm goıng to go now right after İ finish this post :-)

And fınally, catching up, today İ took another (and my last) tour to the old Hellenistic and Classical sites of Priene, Miletus, and Didyma. My guide book said that Miletus was the one to miss of the three, but İd have to disagree. Though little besides the enormous theater remains intact of the town, which once lay on a peninsula into the Aegean but from which the coast has since receded several kilometers (but it still floods every winter), İ thought ıit was much more atmospheric and imaginable than Priene, where the disordered jumble of old columns and stones virtually obscured any sense of the town as it was once laid out. Still, it was an enjoyable day spent doing exactly what İ came here to do -- clambering over old ruins, taking way too many pictures (even of Roman-era graffıttı!) and basking in the brilliant Turkish sun.

And now, about that kepab...

Bodrum, Oct 13-14

2007-10-17T12:21:00.000-04:00

After the previous days' culture and excitement, İ knew İd need a break, and Bodrum was just that. Its a smallish beach town nestled in a bay right where the coast turns up from the Mediterranean to the Aegean Sea, popular with British beach-goers (and partiers) and İ was staying in a hostel just a few short blocks from the water. With the end of tourist season the town was quite a bit quieter than its reputation suggests, which was just fine with me. I did get my share of boisterous Anglo-Franco rivalry when İ watched the Rugby World Cup Semi-Final in the bar downstairs (England beat France), which was thoroughly entertaining and amusing. And, of course, a few drinks at a few local (Turkish, not touristy) haunts with Tarik, who helps run the hostel, turned into a 5am adventure of its own!

The next day was spent mostly reading by the water and staring aimlessly off into the distance... perfect! İ did break out the running shoes for a mid-day run on a low-traffic road along the coast, which was warm but picture-perfect (and a good way to finish off what lingered of the previous nights beers!). Batteries recharged...

Fethiye, Oct 11 - 13

2007-10-17T12:12:00.001-04:00

Finding a bus to my next destination along the Mediterranean was a bit of a stressful experience because after Ramadan (with whose last couple of days İ had intentionally planned my trip to coincide) the Turkish celebrate three days of Bayram, a candy festival when total strangers offer you sweets (yum!) but also people travel like they do on Memorial and Labor Day in the US. Agh! Anyway, with the help of my hosts in Antalya İ was able to score a seat on a smaller bus, complete with random by-the-side-of-the-road pick-ups and drop-offs, and was on my way.

On my first afternoon İ explored the town, with its ancient Hellenistic theater surrounded by a main street on the front and houses all around. It was pretty neglected, overgrown and covered in graffiti, and kind of depressing. Turkey is a lot like Mexico this way -- there is so much history, literally thousands of ruins everywhere, that no amount of government or private funding will ever be enough to adequately reconstruct and/or preserve even a small part of it. Life just goes on... İ did see some Lycian rock tombs carved into the cliffs above the city, though, so those were pretty cool.

The next morning, I set out with some newly made friends (an American girl and a British guy) from the Pension where İ was staying to Kaya Köy, an old Greek village that was abandoned during the compulsory population exchange of the early 20th century and which now remains only as a ghost town. We ended up tooling around the quiet ruins, the old houses with their cold chimneys, the churches with their empty windows, for several hours. Next on the agenda was a longish hike/walk over the hills to Oludeniz, the impeccably blue & green bay that features on practically every Turkish travel poster... but we took a wrong turn practically from the start (why didnt my guide book tell us there were two divergent sets of red dots marking a path?!) and ended up about an hour later at a small, pristine lagoon -- which we soon found out was called Cold Water Bay -- but nowhere near our intended destinatıon! We tried to convince the two lone Turkish guys we came across to drive us to the right place on their motorboat, but they wanted a ridiculous sum of money to do it... so back we went, over the same hills, past the same old tomb at the top, down through the same ghost town, right back to the spot where wed had lunch about 5 hours earlier. Parched (none of us had brought along quite enough water), we chugged a beer, munched on some just-picked pomegranate seeds, and hopped the dolmuş (locla minibus) back to Fethiye. Fortunately İ had some very amicable, interesting and most of all patient travel companions so İ think it counted as a good, if misguided, adventure!

My departing bus the next day wasnt scheduled till late afternoon, so what did İ do? İ JUMPED OFF A MOUNTAİN!!!!!!! Seriously! Apparently Oludeniz is one of the top two places in the world to go paragliding, and, well, who was İ to argue with that? İ and about half a dozen brave (or insane) other souls piled into a safari-type truck for the long, long, bumpy, winding, WINDING, oh-my-god-i-dont-even-want-to-know-how-close-we-are-to-the-edge-of-the-road-right-now ride up past the tree line, past the clouds, UP UP UP 1700 meters to the top of the mountain. I met my "pilot," Bayram, who laughed as İ slipped, shaking (from nerves and also because it was really cold up there) into my flight suit and into the bulky harness that would also serve as my eventual seat. He strapped himself into the parachute-like contraption spread out on the rocks behind him, strapped himself to me, and then instructed me to RUN RUN RUN! Which was really more like a jog-waddle, because the harness is strapped behind your knees and so you feel like a turtle tripping over rocks and (did i mention?) RUNNİNG OFF THE SIDE OF THE MOUNTAİN! Straight into the clouds we went, over the trees, and İ have never been so terrified and exhilarated and glad to be breathing every last molecule of air in my lungs in my life. After a few minutes we finally broke free of the clouds and there it was, this impossibly blue, turquoise, pristine bay below me. He took off my helmet and let me snap a dozen pictures (with my feet in them, of course :-) ) and then asked me if İ wanted to "spin." Um, ok, sure! so we leaned right, and right, and right, and we were spinning in a big circle and if İ werent so deliriously happy İ think İ might have passed out from the lack of air in my lungs! We were flying! İt was absolutely amazing, beyond even the babble İm putting on this screen. After some time (25 minutes? İ have no idea) we finally began our descent onto the sidewalk behind the beach, and İ swear İ think it took about an hour for my heart rate to even begin to go down. İf it hadnt been for the time difference (7 hours to NYC, making it about 5am there) İ think I would have called every person in my phone book... as it was İ just savored the memory and am looking forward to these pictures most of all :-)

Antalya, Oct 9-10

2007-10-17T11:42:00.001-04:00

İ made it to the Mediterranean! On Tuesday İ hopped a short flight slightly east and then south to the port city of Antalya, where İll be staying with some family of a friend of a Houston friend. They have an English-speaking daughter whos around my age, though she has been working crazy hours at her veterinary clinic so İ ended up having to depend largely on her mother, who understands only a little bit of English and speaks even less. İt was a challenge, to be sure, and on more than one occasion made me wish Id just been left to my own devices rather than feel like a burden. But it worked out in the end, as they were extraordinarily patient and hospitable with me and I really enjoyed my stay.

On the first day İ wandered around Kaleici, the old city by the old harbor and savored my first glimpse of the Mediterranean in the hot afternoon sun (seriously, why anyone would plan a vacation here in the middle of summer is beyond me -- youd be roasting the entire time). When İd had enough, I wandered into the local archaeological museum, which is truly wonderful and very complete, where İ passed a blissful few hours ruminating over the statues and artifacts and learning what would turn out to be very useful tidbits about the various civilizations -- Hittite, Hellenic (Greek), Classical (Roman), Selçuk, Byzantine (Middle Ages, Christian), Ottoman (Middle Ages, Muslim) -- that have left their imprint on these shores.

The next morning İ hopped a tour bus to visit the old sites of Perge, Aspendos, and Side... and İ remembered why İve been wanting to come to Turkey for the past 10 years! There is so much history, so much old life, here, you can hardly believe it. Perge, for example, a city that reached its peak during Roman times was actually established as early as 1500 BC, and saw the pass of 9 different civilizations before it was finally abandoned. All you have to do is close your eyes, quiet your mind and you can practically hear the passing, the bustle, the changing of hundreds of generations before you as they went to market, worshipped their gods, defended their cities and lived their lives. Its awe-inspiring and humbling. İ was also very lucky to end up with a small, really great tour group (including a guy who used to be a guide too, and so added to our guides stories) and we all got along fabulously. The last stop, Side, rewarded a 10-minute walk past interminable souvenir shops hawking gold, evil eyes and fake designer goods with an image straight out of myth and imagination: four pristine white marble columns, topped by an intricate frieze, literally at the foot of the ocean. Breathtaking!

Istanbul, Oct 8

2007-10-17T11:28:00.001-04:00

So you may have noticed an eerie quiet around these parts... I havent been online since the last post, for which youll have to excuse me (though İ didnt miss struggling with the Turkish keyboard... so youll have to excuse the typos and lapsed punctuatıon too.)

Anyway, here go the quick and dirty accounts of everything Ive been up to, hopefully in some sort of intelligible order.

On Monday I wrapped up Istanbul, Part 1. Im excited to embark on the next 10 days outside the city -- which is as bustling, full of life and energy as New York (and even more so Mexico City, of which it constantly reminds me), but consequentially also as maddening -- but İ also couldnt be happier to know that İll be returning for a few days at the end of my journey. A handful of days may be enough to get in the main sights and even an apple tea or two with the locals, but it isnt nearly enough to really get a sense for what is truly the nerve center of this country.

Anyway, İ took my first tour this morning. Im really not one for tours, and will be trying to keep them for a minimum throughout this trip because they drive me kind of crazy (and theyre also expensive!), but some things you really cant experience on your own. So I hopped into the empty van that picked me up from my hostel and which proceeded to drive me exactly 2 minutes to a bigger van that was actually shepherding the larger group around (see what I mean?). ANYWAY. The plan was to take a boat cruise up the legendary Bosphorus, the wide body of water that divides the European and Asian halves of İstanbul and figures so prominently in the life and legend of the city. İt was a slightly overcast morning, perfect for the leisurely ride up and down that gave me plenty of time to admire the centuries of changing architecture lining both coasts. İn his memoirs of the city, Nobel Prize-winner and native son Orhan Pamuk talks at length about "huzun" (I think thats how its spelled), which translates roughly as "melancholy" -- this pervasive sense throughout İstanbul, on every street corner, in every mosque, in houses and apartment buildings old and new, that this is a city that was once great, but then fell precipitously and now is trying to pick itself back up without having a clear sense of who it is now and who it wants to be. Today, İ could see it so perfectly. The lovely old wooden Ottoman houses lining the river on land that is now worth millions, some of them impeccably maintained (or restored) and others still crumbling from the years, and especially from the massive earthquake that hit here in 1999. The one shining 19th century palace converted into $7000 a night hotel suites (breakfast not included!), the other maintained by the Turkish government as a museum for the public to see and own. The bridges over the river choking on traffic, the commuter ferries bustling past a dozen or so of the 50,000 massive container ships that pass through every year, the 20th century apartment buildings with their colorful, clean but completely uninspired square façades. Truly fascinating.

After the tour was over, İ decided to brave the public transit system on my own for the first time to get to the Kariye Museum, an old Byzantine Church out of the way of most tourist haunts (but still a worthy destination). İ had planned on taking a cab but the guy at the hostel convinced me otherwise... WELL, let me tell you, its one thing to be able to ask for directions in Turkish, but quite another to understand the reply! Especially when youve mistakenly ended up one subway stop past your destination, outside the old city walls and beyond the reach of most English speakers. After a frenzied attempt at understanding with the gum- and nut- sellers outside the subway station, they finally just plopped me into a cab and sent me on my way. Fortunately the church, with its detailed and mostly well-preserved Middle Age frescoes and glittering mosaics depicting the lives of Mary (from childhood!) and Jesus, was totally worth the confusion (and occasional desperation) of getting there... and getting back! Because while I did manage to find my way back to the correct subway station without incident, it was a long walk through a less-than-nice and largely quiet neighborhood that İ didnt really appreciate having to make on my own. But İ made it, so thats all that matters :-)

İstanbul, Oct 6 - 7

2007-10-07T15:55:00.001-04:00

Of all the words I've learned in Turkish so far, I can't for the life of me remember how to say "thank you." Actually, I thought I knew, having picked the easiest-to-pronounce option of the three listed in my tour book. But yesterday when I met up with Kunter, the son of an old Turkish friend of a (Houston-based) family friend of mine (got that?), and his girlfriend, and decided to show off my rusty memorization skills, this was the only one I got wrong. Boo! And after having spent the entire weekend with them, I still can't remember. This language is hard!

In any case, the weekend itself was wonderful. I got a call from Kunter on Friday and we'd agreed to make plans for Saturday; I figured I'd spend an afternoon with him and that's it, but as it turns out he had planned on showing me around for the entire weekend! I guess I shouldn't really be surprised, since Turkish people have consistently been nothing but super friendly and accommodating. Yesterday we took the tram -- one of half a dozen modes of public transportation available in Istanbul, and still the city chokes on traffic -- a few stops over to Eminonu, where we visited the Yeni Camii (a mosque) and the spice bazaar. With the help of my Turkish guide friends I was able to try a few Turkish candies (besides the stereotypical Turkish delight), which were quite tasty... even if they were strange-looking, like one delicious but long, thick and lumpy string of assorted nuts coated in a brown rubber-like substance made out of grapes. Mmm :-) I'm looking forward to swinging back this way in a few weeks to pick up some apple tea before I come home. But the strangest thing people were selling: leeches! Yikes! Definitely NOT bringing back any of those :-)

We walked back out and over the Galata Bridge (no falls this time!), past the fishermen who are there day, noon and night, and up a very steep hill to the Galata Tower, which gave us a great view of the city. We wandered around a modern shopping district for a while before going up to a swanky little hotel cafe for a late lunch, to which Kunter and Aysegul insisted on treated me since it was my birthday. The food wasn't really Turkish but the views at the enormous, open picture windows were breathtaking, and it was a welcome, relaxing break for my tired feet.

Of course, it wouldn't be a Sempre Libera-style trip without a swing through an art museum, so off we went to the Istanbul Modern to check out some of the work on display throughout the city for the 10th annual Istanbul Biennial. Except for the occasional view it has over the Bosphorus, the museum itself is in a pretty non-descript, if not downright unattractive, old warehouse-type building and the space inside is still very raw and industrial. But this is actually perfect for the museum since its definition of "modern" is distinctly contemporary (as opposed to the MoMA vs. PS1 dichotomy in NYC). The works on display here leaned heavily in a political direction, which is always a dicey proposition since it's so hard to say something meaningful without reverting to cliches. There were some standouts, though, most notably a sculpture series in which the artist turned Arabic newsprint into small-scale papier-mache duplicates of some of the thousands of ancient sculptures that were lost just after the US invasion of Baghdad, when the Iraq National Museum was looted. It was the kind of art that was all the more powerful because it didn't need explaining.

This morning I woke up for another run, and managed to stay upright the entire time :-) Nothing but fishermen lining the Marmara the whole way! It's hard to go very far -- apparently Istanbul has some of the least green space of any city in Europe -- but I did manage to put in about 5 miles by retracing my steps only once.

I met Kunter again and we hopped on a commuter ferry across the Bosphorus to Uskudar -- my first time setting foot in Asia! That alone was pretty cool. We spent the next couple of hours walking along waterfront under the glorious October sun, all the way over to Kadikoy and through the old Moda neighborhood. The Asian side of Istanbul is much more residential, and so while I saw very little that was traditionally touristy today, it was really a wonderful chance to see how people live every day. Kunter and his friends aren't religious, but they did observe the Ramadan fast today and so when the sun set we gathered for an enormous (the plates just kept coming!), and delicious, traditional Turkish meal at a local restaurant. I came home over the Bosphorus Bridge to a beautiful nighttime skyline. Kunter asked me if my birthday wish had come true -- to which I said, well, this trip was a birthday present to myself, so that's good enough for me!

Thanks to all for your comments so far, and keep 'em coming... Just remember to sign them (for you non-bloggers, aliases are OK as long they're somewhat decipherable) so I know who you are :-)

İ'm here!

2007-10-05T15:31:00.001-04:00

Day 1 in İstanbul, check.

İ arrived late yesterday evening after a rather adventurous van ride from the airport (the hostel sent someone to pick me up, along with some people from two other area hotels). After finally clearing the legendary İstanbul traffic, the driver made his way into the historic Sultanahmet neighborhood, stopped in front of what looked to me more like a private house than a hotel or hostel, got out without a word and another (younger) guy climbed into the driver's seat! İn any case, we were off again through a seris of ancient, very very narrow windy cobblestone roads and somehow managed to find every single vehicle driving in the opposite direction. At one point there was a wall, a cab with one wheel already up on the curb, us, a parked car and another wall -- all with probably only an inch or two to spare in all! İ'm still amazed we made it through, though İ'm pretty sure the cab wasn't so lucky given the distinct smack we heard right after we passed. I wonder if that house had collision insurance...

İ made it up to run bright and early this morning. İ started out along the Marmara Sea and the plan was to make my way up either the Golden Horn or the Bosphorus. I decided on the latter and had just made my way across the rows of fishermen lining the Galata Bridge when... BOOM! Down İ go! Note to self: Next time İ try to bound down the steps off an already slippery bridge, attach suction cups to feet! İ fell smack on my butt and slipped down a good two or three steps before İ fınally stopped. Fortunately my feet & legs are all intact, though the same can't be said for my left hand -- my fore- and middle fingers are quite swollen from catching the fall and are already showing hints of a lovely shade of purple. Ugh. The fall notwithstanding, it was pretty cool to be running alongside these historic waterfronts with only the boats and the fishermen to keep me company, at least for the first half of the run. I crossed paths with three other runners but that was it.

İ spent the rest of the day wandering around the classic landmarks of Sultanahmet -- the Hagia Sofia, where İ took nearly a full roll's worth of pictures, Topkapi Palace, where İ took twice as many, and the Blue Mosque. I think my favorite part was the Harem in Topkapi, which really came to life as İ remembered a recent read, a historical fiction account of Sultan Suleyman the Magnificent and his concubine-turned-wife Hurrem (who was also a master of intrigue in the palace, the first woman to take on significant political power in the Ottoman Empire). When İ was reading the book İ complained that it was about 200 pages too long, and though İ stand by that point İ will admit that it lent an extraordinary amount of depth to my visit. The Harem was extraordinarily beautiful and positively oozed of mystery and intrigue -- even without a trace of the hundreds of people it used to house.

And as a parting thought, Turkish people are every bit as hospitable as they are made out to be. İ was invited to not one, but two Ramadan dinners tonight (though the one İ'd planned to attend fell through, boo). As predicted, İ've been asked several times already if İ'm Turkish, though to their credit their next guess (Hispanic of some sort) is a lot more on target than İ usually get on the first try :-)

More than a sad story

2007-09-28T08:00:00.000-04:00

Few celebrities engage in causes in ways that are not just meaningful, but smart and insightful. Bono comes to mind, of course, but the list is pretty short.

Now, after watching footage of Angelina Jolie being interviewed by the New York Times' Nick Kristof at the Clinton Global Initiative last night, I'm adding her to my list. Her story is gut-wrenching and compelling, yes -- but what got me is how, at the very last moment, she took it beyond the sob story to call for real, lasting solutions. Check it out:

"He's a great kid, and these are great people, and...
We need to help them be doctors."
-Angelina Jolie

Hat tip, Jezebel.

Eeek!

2007-09-26T18:33:00.000-04:00

And the countdown begins: I leave for Turkey exactly one week from today!

Itinerary is all set, hostels are reserved... though I've only learned a word or two of Turkish so far, I plan on getting the basics down (please, thank you, where's the bathroom, no you can't be my Turkish boyfriend / husband) between now and when I land in Istanbul. My sister's coworker taught her a phrase which we thought meant "Warning - school bus!" but as it turns out it actually means "Beware of dog." Well, if I hear it at least I'll know to get out of something's way :-)

And even though my mother thinks I'm nuts, one of the two pairs of shoes I plan on packing will be for running. Though I suspect many of you in blogland aren't surprised in the least!

Anyway, the days are pretty packed between now and then, so time should fly quickly... but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't getting a little nervous!

International Day of Peace

2007-09-21T10:30:00.000-04:00

Today marks the 25th anniversary of the International Day of Peace. Something to think about always, but in these times especially...

"There is nothing easier than lopping off heads and nothing harder than developing ideas."
-Fyodor Dostoevsky

Rigging the system

2007-09-19T19:05:00.000-04:00

I once interned at an organization that does high-profile work promoting democracies around the world. To this day, people always ask me why it doesn't monitor elections back home in the U.S. The short answer: because our system is so f--ed up, they wouldn't even know where to start. It's simply not possible to verify an election in a country whose system doesn't meet the minimum standards of fairness and standardization required of other countries (by international institutions and governments, including our own).

Embarrassing, isn't it?

The idea that caucus-goers in Iowa or primary voters in New Hampshire somehow matter more than I do... or that I and the nearly 40% of Texas residents who voted for Kerry in 2004 might as well have stayed home... or that the 2000 election hinged on a few stray chits in Florida and the abdication of the Supreme Court to Shrub & Co... Well, you get the picture. Don't even get me started on the voting machines.

And now this: a group of Republican lawyers wants to allocate electoral college votes in proportion to the popular vote -- BUT ONLY IN CALIFORNIA. See, California usually goes blue, but the actual vote tallies tell a more nuanced story. Just like Texas is only part-red, and Ohio doesn't really know what it is, and on and on.

Don't get me wrong; I think the electoral college is as ridiculous as the next person. But while they're talking fairness, what they really mean is 'more votes for Republicans!' That's not reform, it's a shameless power grab. (And if the Democrats did it, I'd say the exact same thing.)

Does the electoral system in this country need a major overhaul? Absolutely. On February 5, 2008, let's have the Super-duper-est Tuesday of them all. Let's invite everyone to the party. Forget about blue states and red states; let's color outside the lines.

But don't you dare try to steal my crayon.

Who knew

2007-09-11T09:29:00.000-04:00

That there are crawfish in Central Park?

I was walking along the Harlem Meer this morning, minding my own business, when I saw a little critter meander across my path. I looked down, and saw something that looked a lot like this:

I did a double-take! I stopped and stared at him, and he stopped and stared at me. He waved his claws around menacingly like some wee crustacean ninja. "Calm down, buddy," I thought, "I don't want to eat you!" I smiled to myself and shook my head in disbelief, and we both went on our merry little way.

Like bad hair days

2007-09-07T09:05:00.000-04:00

There are bad running days. Wednesday's Fartlek workout with the gang was pretty perfect. As Coach Sponge pointed out in a subsequent email, I tucked right into the fast group and let them pull me along through most of the workout. My legs definitely protested when I pulled in the final kick on Cat Hill, but not a moment sooner; mostly I felt strong and very in control of my form and my pace. I've got my eye on the Fifth Avenue Mile at the end of the month, so it's taking some readjusting of my mindset in preparation for the shorter distance, but I think I can do it.

This morning, though, was another story. I walked the short (yaay! seriously, this does not get old) distance from my apartment to Central Park before I started running. My legs were stiff at the start but this is usually the case on my early runs -- I'd only been awake for, oh, 20 minutes, and have I mentioned I'm not naturally an early riser? Halfway through the run, though, they still didn't feel any better. And though my pace (8:47) didn't show it, I struggled to drag them along for the entire distance. Meh.

What's got me a little worried is that just a few hundred meters short of the finish I felt a sudden, unpleasant twinge in my left knee. I stopped for a moment to wiggle it out and was able to finish just fine, but it's been a little sensitive all day. I've always had to be careful with it since I dislocated it (twice, and nearly a third time) many years ago, but it hasn't given me trouble in a while... it's probably just being cranky, but I'll have to be mindful nonetheless. I bet it didn't help that last weekend's 13-miler to Brooklyn pushed me way over my weekly mileage (to 38, and much of it on concrete), so I'm looking forward to a weekend of nothing but soft dirt and trails.

An another note, I may have found a 10k to run in Istanbul next month, on the last day I'm in Turkey. Yaay! Let's hope the race organizer understood the email I just sent him, since the only phrase I know in Turkish is of the silly, useless variety...

I'm in heaven right now

2007-09-05T23:21:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting in my room in my awesome new apartment,

relaxing after a tough but great Fartlek workout with the best running club ever,

playing with my brand new Boston Acoustics Recepter Radio (delivered today),

listening to my new favorite public radio program -- the challenging, sometimes weird but always very, very cool New Sounds on WNYC. Right now they're playing some very percussive, fast zither piece, before that a beautiful, ethereal contemporary vocal performance...

... and it all sounds AMAZING.

I am one happy audiophile :-)

And speaking of the joys of combining my favorite things: some photos of one of many afternoons this summer spent dancing, looking at art, drinking good beer and chilling out at P.S. 1. Truly my favorite thing to do in the summer -- I can't wait for next year!

How it all began

2007-08-28T08:49:00.000-04:00

25 years ago today, my parents packed up their brand-new house and, with a 10-month-old (me) in tow and another one (my sister) on the way, moved from Mexico City to San Diego, California.

Apparently, I wasn't very happy with that decision...

(In the Mexico City airport, looking very worried.)

Things in California didn't turn out the way they'd planned -- they never do, do they? -- and for a time it seemed their decision had been ill-advised indeed. They'd left a very good life, careers, friends and family behind, and suddenly their 'adventure' had left them stranded and alone. (Plus, if you'd asked me at the time I would have told you that Gerber baby food bottled in Mexico tasted a lot better than the American kind. Seriously.) To make matters worse, Mexico's then-president began playing havoc with the economy, so going back was no longer an attractive option.

Fortunately, life has a funny way of working out. It took a little while, but we set up a new life in Houston and surrounded ourselves with a kind of surrogate family, friends who were in many cases immigrants themselves. The United States has been very good to us -- but our roots and hearts still were, remain and will always be in Mexico.

(A happier me playing with my Abuelo.)

'Cualquier contacto con el pueblo mexicano, así sea fugaz, muestra que bajo las formas occidentales laten todavía las antiguas creencias y costumbres...'
--Octavio Paz, 'El Laberinto de la Soledad'

Ouch

2007-08-20T18:05:00.000-04:00

Holy crap, am I sore. Calves, quads, shoulders, forearms -- everything hurts. Amazing how much stuff can come out of one tiny apartment...

Down two flights of stairs, up five, far too many times to count. 10 hours (with two breaks for food) and several back-and-forth trips of the U-Haul van later, we were moved into our new, much bigger home. Many thanks to our crew for doing it all with a smile (and for accepting payment in the form of pizza and beer). You'll be the first ones invited to our housewarming!

Needless to say, between this and Saturday's race I am NOT running again till tomorrow at least.

In other, somewhat-related news, our old apartment (still technically ours till the end of the month) has yet to find a new tenant and Sassouni Management has already dropped the price two times. This in spite of record low vacancy rates (sub-1%) among Manhattan apartments... Even better, prospective tenants will now find a mostly empty space (which makes it look even smaller) full of dust bunnies. Ah, karma is so sweet!

Team Championships

2007-08-18T14:52:00.000-04:00

My advance apologies for the shortest race report ever... We're moving this weekend and I'm in desperate need of a nap before the craziness begins.

NYRR Team Championships today -- Unseasonably fantastic day for my favorite race of the year: 60 degrees, breezy, not a cloud in the sky, and less than a thousand runners in the field. Started strong and felt strong through the entire course. I wasn't sure how it would go because while my mileage has been solid, life (busy job, exploding steampipes, the usual) has gotten in the way of regular speed workouts. But with the exception of some creeping fatigue around mile 4, I felt like I was in control of the race.

Splits were even and right on target: [1] 6.57 [2] 6.48 [3] 6.53 [4] 7.01 up Cat Hill [5] 6.38. I rounded the bend at the transverse and passed the girl I'd been trailing just steps before the line (too late for her to pass me back, haha!) for a 34:17 finish (6:51/mi), which is a PR by almost a minute (from this race last year)! There were also a whole bunch of PR's among the rest of my team -- Yaay Dogs!

Thanks to the Reservoir Dog and NY Harriers men for cheering, and to my team for the yummy post-race picnic! Pictures and maybe even some NYRR videos to follow soon...

Two of my favorite things

2007-08-15T21:15:00.002-04:00

Running and politics! Today was another muggy day in Central Park, another great speed workout with the Dogs -- and another sighting of our very own Governor Eliot Spitzer running up to the reservoir.

This is probably the third or fourth time I've seen him while waiting with the group, which is pretty cool (if you're a big nerd like me).

Just one thing though -- what's with the dumpy cotton gear, Mr. Governor? We might just have to send you your own bright red TRD technical tee... nothing like a pair of big paws on your shoulder to soften the ol' steamroller reputation :-)

From our friends at the MTA

2007-08-13T17:02:00.000-04:00

Hat tip, East Village Idiot -- click through to read the full original post.

There are days

2007-08-11T14:00:00.000-04:00

When living in this city drives me absolutely batty.

Today is one of those days.

(Oh, and sorry I've fallen off the earth... work and life have been crazy busy, and I just haven't felt inclined to write much in my few down moments.)

It has to do with the much-dreaded NYC apartment search. Fact is, our cute but tiny (sub-500sq foot) pad has gotten a bit too tight for comfort... that, and our management company sucks. Clearly I never expected to love them -- but these guys are without a doubt the most singularly, absurdly unprofessional people I have ever had to deal with, and I'm tired of forking over my hard-earned money to them every month.

So with my apologies to those of you who didn't come here to hear me rant, I'm going to test the powers of the internet in the hopes that an enterprising Googler will stumble upon this and save him/herself a good deal of headaches.

Sassouni Management is the most unpleasant, untrustworthy and lazy operation I have ever encountered. Every interaction with Ambi, the woman who works there, immediately turns into a fight -- even if all you're asking for is to have your lease renewal in writing. Of course, you have no other choice but to deal with her. So she lies to your face (refusing certain rights and obligations clearly spelled out in NYC housing law), hangs up on you and if you actually go to their offices she will walk out the door when you're in mid-sentence. She responds to requests only when you threaten legal action.

This attitude translates into the management of the building, of course. The super is lazy and unreliable. He doesn't keep appointments and flat-out refuses simple jobs. The renovations are shabby and the common areas are filthy; when the concrete entryway got dirty he put down a carpet instead of sweeping, and when that carpet got dirty he just flipped it over. He painted the basement/laundry room and just stopped about a foot above the floor. He leaves old appliances -- stoves, A/C units, cabinets -- sitting in the narrow hallway for weeks at a time, creating a very real fire hazard.

(I could go on... seriously, you can't make this stuff up.)

To top it all off, now that I'm moving Sassouni has enlisted brokers to show the apartment (they only thing they've ever moved quickly on -- I got the first call two days after I gave them notice that we were vacating). Of course I don't trust them in my apartment alone, so I asked them to hold an open house.

As of 1pm this afternoon, Ray of the Broadway Group has managed to make, and then break with less than 2-hours' notice, three open house appointments. He complained that his potential clients bail on him or that he can't them to return his calls. Well guess what, buddy -- that's not my problem! This is your job, not mine.

I'm so sick of it all, and apparently so are others. If you're looking for a place, stay far, far away.

Back to our regular (happier) scheduled programming soon, I hope...

I feel like a slug

2007-07-30T17:51:00.000-04:00

Because I haven't run -- at all -- since last Wednesday. Instead, I spent the weekend back in Houston, where it rains every day, turning the backyard into a hot, sticky swamp and making a field day for the mosquitoes. Only my parents' German Shepherd puppy seemed to think it was prime weather for playing, running around and generally being very muddy.

But to see my dad yell and jump about 3 feet into the air out of surprise/shock/joy -- he had no idea my sister and I were coming home for his 60th birthday -- makes it totally worthwhile.

Even when it rains

2007-07-18T17:39:00.001-04:00

You can't help but love this city.

View from our offices, about thirty minutes ago:

Not your typical beach weekend

2007-07-16T23:22:00.000-04:00

So, judging by my low mileage last week, it seems I was a little quick to celebrate my graduation into 30mpw territory... but I had a good excuse, I promise! (Besides, I managed to make it out for a morning run, by myself, not once but twice. Which I think deserves accolades of its own, because we all know how much I prefer staying in bed.)

In any case, my excuse is that I got only four hours of sleep on Saturday night / Sunday morning, and those were on the beach between the hours of 4 and 8 AM. And, you might be surprised to know (I was), sleeping on the sand -- as in actually sleeping, not just nodding off while reading a book -- is actually not all that comfortable. Unless you're on your stomach, in which case you are comfortable and you also have a mouth full of sand.

Yes, I went to sleep on the beach at 4 AM. No, I wasn't camping. In fact, I and the other dozen-plus people I was with weren't technically supposed to be there after sundown at all. But who needs rules, right? ;-)

The evening was the idea of one of Ry's friends -- a guy who I imagine must have literally climbed walls as a child, and is now better known for doing things like climb New York skyscrapers and bridges, for fun, under cover of darkness. But, by the time my crew made it out to be beach to join the party, we thought we had, well, missed the party. It was 2am, a new moon, and only the stars and distant haze of city lights illuminated the pile of sleeping bags gathered at our "campsite." Two people were awake, another one or two were asleep, and where was everyone else?

Out exploring the grassy dunes behind the beach, of course.

So naturally, we set out on an hour-plus hike to find them. We had cell phone contact, which as it turns out is not quite so useful when the clearest directions you're given are "we're out past the campsite a little ways. no really, it's not far. behind the really big dune... uhhh... the one after the other big dune?"

(This picture isn't mine, btw; I don't have a digital camera. But this is what our hike would have looked like, had it been 3 in the afternoon and not 3 AM.)

We didn't find them, but it was a nice walk. The breeze was quick, the air was salty and damp, the buzzing of night bugs the only sound above the crashing of waves. By the time we made it back to the "site" the other half of the party was back too, and everyone settled into the sand to chill and chat. The breeze picked up and our eyelids began to droop, and soon we crawled under our blankets -- three of us laying like sausages on top of the one full-size sheet I'd brought along -- and went to sleep, with only the clear sky over our heads and the soft, lumpy sand under our bottoms.

I opened my eyes briefly as the sun rose, intending to take some pictures, but the sky was cloudy and gray so I gladly rolled over and went back to sleep. Finally, the rapidly climbing sun -- by now the clouds had cleared again -- woke me for good a little after 8am. I was groggy, my face felt greasy and sandy, and it was suddenly a little too warm for the pair of jean's I'd worn since night before. But to wake to the sounds, smells and sights of a wide open, solitary beach, with the water just steps from your feet... totally worth it.

We dawdled on the sand and in the shallow surf for another hour or two before driving back into Brooklyn for a delicious brunch, and then back on the train into Manhattan. By the time I got back to my apartment it was mid-afternoon and too hot to run. So I broke out the ol' rollerblades instead and took two easy loops around the middle of Central Park (with a two-hour break in between loops to hang out with a friend in Sheep's Meadow). By evening, I was pooped.

So, just because I can, I'm counting tonight's 9-miler back a day, which puts me back at 30 for last week after all :-) And now that I'm one day in debt for this week, maybe I'll be that much more motivated to make it out for another early morning run!

Ok, now I can tell you

2007-07-10T22:03:00.000-04:00

The good news that I hinted at two weeks ago: I got promoted! Yaay!

I couldn't post about it sooner because the partners get the privilege of spilling the beans. As it turns out, word is spreading around my office about my blog (fortunately this is not a bad thing) so I had to keep the horn-tooting offline until today.

Incidentally, all you asymmetric lurkers, you should say hi sometime ;-)

Happy heat wave, everyone

2007-07-09T23:23:00.000-04:00

A few tidbits I ran across today that somehow ran together in my mind... a bit of fresh air for this Texas girl sitting, sweltering, in her [un-airconditioned] Manhattan apartment.

In Texas, you grow up with AC the way you grow up with religion. It sticks with you. It becomes a part of you. You believe. But I grew up on the shores of Connecticut. To me, summer has always been a time of heat, the sun baking the paint on the bottom of old wood dinghies, small waves breaking, blackberry ice cream dripping down your forearm...

The earth was drunk on heat. It had been drinking it in the entire day and now it lay there in the darkness, steeped... It was one of the least productive and most memorable summers I've ever had. (Air head, Salon.com)

And this video, a little thought for a cooler future:

(Hat tip, Distillation)

And on the running front

2007-07-03T12:25:00.000-04:00

Some updates, in reverse order:

* * *
I had a guaranteed entry into the 2007 ING New York City Marathon, but as I've discussed previously, I've decided not to run one this year. Yesterday I submitted my cancellation so I can retake my spot in 2008. I figured I'd lose the small processing fee. But apparently, NYRR didn't feel the need to tell me until now that I'll actually lose the ENTIRE $100+ cost of registration. I even re-checked all my previous emails from them just to be sure I hadn't missed something -- nope, no warning. I have to pay the full fee all over again next year. I mean, I know it's a privilege to get a guaranteed spot in such a highly sought-after race, blah blah blah, but this is just sneaky. What gives, people?!

* * *
In other, happier, news, I am slowly inching my way up the mileage ranks. 28 miles last week, even with a short run (race) yesterday and two days of sauna-like conditions. I'm thinking I'll hover around 32 or so, which shouldn't be a problem so long as at least one of my teammates is around to drag me out of bed one or two mornings a week :-)

* * *
And yes, a race this weekend -- and finally a good one! I'd been itching for a change of racing scenery after the past couple of washouts. That, and I'm just tired of fighting my way through the mob at every single NYRR race; the monster bottleneck also known as the Corporate Challenge didn't help either.

Instead, a small crew of ResDogs (and one NY Flyer friend) piled into a ZipCar for the drive to the Massapequa Firecracker 5k Sunday afternoon. It was a picture perfect day for a summer race -- temps in the mid-70s, breezy and not humid, and a bright blue sky. The race start was a little confusing; it took the crowd of several hundred a few minutes to figure out where exactly the line was (not, apparently, right under the banner). The race organizers announced five, then one minute till the start of the race -- and then suddenly everyone started moving. I have no idea who or what gave the signal, but I was off!

The first mile went straight through a residential neighborhood, the course dotted by the occasional group of cheering families and some guy good-naturedly spraying the runners with a garden hose. I knew I was starting fast, but I really wanted to push myself this time. I hit the first mile marker at 6:31 and thought, good, but I should probably scale it back a wee bit for the middle section. We rounded a bend and over a short, gravelly parking lot, so I had to watch my footing anyway. Most of the rest of the race went over a paved bike path through the park, the trees providing some nice shade, even if they did keep most of the rest of the field out of sight.

The second mile clocked in at 6:56, which was slower than I had intended but not too bad. Unfortunately, the afternoon start meant I hadn't been able to limit my food intake like I usually do just before a race. As a result, it was around this time that my stomach decided it was going to be chatty. (This happens to me on a semi-regular basis on training runs, and it's annoying but not uncomfortable.) So while I focused on my breathing, my tummy gurgled audibly through much of the next mile, which I'm sure the guy I caught up to and paced with appreciated :-p

In any case, I checked my watch again and the aforementioned guy said, "just about two minutes left, right?" "Yep," I panted. Mile three, 6:47, and we rounded the bend out of the park and back onto the final stretch. He pulled up ahead of me and I dug in for the finish (44 sec, or a 6:40 pace). As I crossed the line, the announcer was calling out the finishers he knew by name; when I came up he did call out for TRD "from New York City," which made me happy. I checked my watch: 20:59, or 6:45mm pace. Not a record-breaker, but I was pretty pleased.

We celebrated post-race with some oranges, popsicles and popcorn before checking the race results on our way out. I don't think the chips were quite synchronized with the overhead clock, since my official time shows a full five or six seconds over both it and my watch time. In any case, I placed 4th in my division (out of 22), so I'm happy. It was a great feeling to be racing again; next on the agenda will be bringing that time back down to near-JFK levels.

Enjoy the holiday!

I have a race t-shirt

2007-06-30T12:10:00.000-04:00

... that is so long, every time I wear it over my short running shorts I joke that it makes me look like I forgot to wear pants. It's a size M or L masquerading as an XS, but it's a technical tee, and it was free, so I can't bring myself to throw it out.

On Wednesday, I was sitting near the door of my apt, lacing up my running shoes, when I looked down and realized that I was forgetting something.

That's right, folks, this time I actually almost left the house without any pants. No joke.

In any case, I'm headed out for several hours of blissed-out dancing and beer-drinking at P.S. 1 this afternoon, and soon everything will be better :-)

Just in case you thought he wasn't serious

2007-06-20T00:30:00.000-04:00

Bloomberg leaves Republican Party: NYC mayor, subject of speculation about presidential run, now unaffiliated

A self-made billionaire and wildly popular and successful mayor -- this guy's one to watch.

For background rumblings, see also this New York Magazine article from a few months back: His American Dream. And from the NYT, some healthy skepticism too.

In any case, Dems and Reps alike, hope y'all are paying attention...

Even dead presidents go on the internets

2007-06-19T14:14:00.000-04:00

Very clever indeed:

We All Want Dead Presidents

An interesting online communications coup from France recently occured when François Mitterrand, Socialist President of France 1981-1995 and a hero of the Left who's been dead for ten years, starting writing his own blog.

You read that right.

Unfortunately it seems that's all there was... too bad!

It doesn't take much

2007-06-18T18:00:00.000-04:00

I was at a BBQ party in Brooklyn on Saturday night, chatting about all sorts of high- and low-minded things (immigration, religion, and how to soak a watermelon in vodka) with some very cool people, when the sky started to rumble. Dismayed, we thought the thunderstorms from earlier that afternoon might have returned. We looked up.

Fireworks!

Was it a July 4th test run? They kept going. A few of us scrambled up the fire escape. They went on, for... well, for as long as fireworks do. It was amazing!

(Today I found out it was for some children's festival at the South Street Seaport... not nearly as cool as my friend Ry's typically oblique theory that they were for Bloomsday, but whatever.)

On Sunday, I ran 8.5 blissful miles, the midday sun shaded by the trees along the bridle path. Only the ambient noise of the park, and the rhythm of my feet on the gravel, kept me company. It was hot, and I stopped for water several times, but I felt great.

I went home, showered, and went -- where else? -- back to the park, where I plopped myself down for a few hours of people-watching. Before I knew it, it was 8:30 and the sun was setting. I had heard one-and-a-half full concerts of African reggae and Middle Eastern pop, the usual drum circles, and a string quartet playing Beethoven and Dvorak, all without walking more than 100 feet away from my original perch. I'd even managed to make a few temporary friends -- an Algerian, a Frenchman, a South African and Liberian, and a skater kid from the UES who was getting ready to ship off to boot camp. (Apparently, lugging around a Canon F-1 with a 200mm lens is quite the conversation-starter.)

Just another weekend in the city...

Heads up, theater-lovers

2007-06-14T16:54:00.000-04:00

Having been completely won over to the wonder that is off- and off-off Broadway theater in this city, here's a heads up for my NYC friends: the Signature Theatre is offering yet another season at the ridiculously low price of $20/pop. On the marquee this time as playwright-in-residence is Charles Mee, with one additional play by Edward Albee.

I subscribed to the Signature for the first time this past year for their stagings of three August Wilson plays from his series documenting various decades in African-American history in Pittsburgh: Seven Guitars, Two Trains Running and King Hedley II. I couldn't have been more impressed. I have seen two others from the series on Broadway (the first, Gem of the Ocean, two years ago with the unforgettable Phylicia Rashad as Aunt Esther, and most recently the last, Radio Golf, nominated this year for two Tony Awards) and they were really wonderful. But to witness such remarkable acting and story-telling in such an intimate setting as an off-Broadway theater is truly a remarkable thing.

(There were two other great plays at the Signature last season, too: an exquisite and delicate The Trip to Bountiful by Horton Foote and the gritty, dramatic Landscape of the Body by John Guare. I just happen to really love August Wilson.)

I'm a big believer in making the arts accessible to all, and this is a great example and worth supporting. The NYT is on it already (not to mention what I'm sure are quite a few new, vocal converts like myself), so get your membership while you still can...

Picturing data

2007-06-12T23:05:00.000-04:00

Check out this neat little graphic a colleague passed to me today:
US States Renamed For Countries With Similar GDPs

The map has its limitations, certainly -- for one thing, it doesn't account for per capita GDP so it takes a bit of discipline not to jump to conclusions about how well-off or poor a country really is -- but it's an interesting tool nonetheless.

People are doing all kinds of neat things with online maps these days. I've seen heat sensors superimposed over Google Maps to show the locations of homeless populations, taxi cab trackers that reveal traffic and congestion patterns, and of course there are the more fun (frivolous?) applications like twittervision. For someone like me, whose eyes glaze over at the sight of a chart or list of numbers, they're a great way of bringing otherwise meaningless data to life.

Update: Here's another one -- an interactive look at who's giving to the presidential candidates, and where. You can click in for more details on the region and the donors. (Hat tip: TechPresident)

Sometimes, justice prevails

2007-06-11T18:12:00.000-04:00

Just when it seems the days can't get darker, the universe rights itself (even if only slightly):

Court overrules Bush 'enemy combatant' policy
Judges: President may not detain legal U.S. resident without charging him

The Mini 10k strikes again

2007-06-10T22:01:00.000-04:00

Look ma, I'm on TV!
http://nyrr.org/races/2007/mini/video_local.asp

My little NYRR cameo about sums it up: it was warm (73 degrees) and muggy (79% humidity), almost exactly as it was the last time I ran this race. We were a mere 2 minutes into our pre-race warm-up when Uptown Girl and I, dripping already, realized that this would be no day for record-breaking. Still, we gathered with the other club runners (including NYFlygirl) and made our way to the special "elite" start. In spite of my best intentions I ended up right on the starting line, where I clearly had no business standing just a few feet behind the likes of Lornah Kiplagat, Jelena Prokopcuka, Lidiya Grigoryeva and many other phenomenal women athletes that had come out for the 35th anniversary of the world's original women-only road race. (You even can see me in a few frames of the pro video.) But hey, if no one else really wanted to be there, I wasn't going to complain, right?

I figured I would start the race at a tempo pace and either stay there or (if by some miracle I became suddenly immune to the weather conditions) pick it up at the end. With the first mile of the course running up the relatively flat, open expanse of Central Park West, I knew it would take some discipline to hold back. Sure enough, even with what felt like scores of women passing me I still clocked a 6:53. I entered the park and dialed it back some more to 7:16, pushed up the Harlem hills and finally settled into the tough, but controlled 7:30ish range in which I would stay for the rest of the race. My upper body was relaxed, my breathing hard but steady, and I even managed a little wave to the teammates who were cheering us on at various points along the race. But make no mistake about it -- this was a tough one, and as the sun began to peek through the clouds it got even tougher. Twice I poured water on my head, took a sip, and kept going.

At around mile 5 I caught up to KH, a Harrier friend, and we trucked through the next half-mile or so together before I decided to push ahead to the finish. With the help of a few final yells from some fellow Reservoir Dogs, I passed a couple of women (and then got passed by one or two others) before crossing the line at 45:43, for an average pace of 7:21mm. It was as difficult a tempo run as I'd ever expect, and I was glad to have decided not to race it rather than burning out halfway through. Given the effort I put into it, I'm pretty happy with the result... and I'm hoping the warm-weather training will serve me well in the Corporate Challenge race later this month, where I'm hoping to lead my team of asymmetric speedsters to the finish (and the beer).

Out of office reply: The fourth estate

2007-06-08T17:53:00.000-04:00

Everyone's talking about how early the 2008 presidential race has begun. True, but the calendar still says we're still over 8 months away from the first primaries, and anything can happen.

Of course, if you ask the mainstream media, they've all but decided for us. On Sunday night, in a field of strong and *very different* Democratic contenders, CNN decided that only three were worthy of the camera's undivided attention. (I'm guessing they did something similar to the Republicans two days later, but I admit that I wasn't watching.)

Uh, I hate to break it to ya, Wolf, but most of your general polls right now are running on name recognition alone (why do you think Gore does so well?). So long as CNN and everyone else refuse to give Richardson, Dodd, Biden and yes, even Kucinich and Gravel, the time of day, voters won't even know they're an option. It's a vicious cycle.

A few weeks ago I went to a conference where Larry Lessig, of Creative Commons, called the role of the media in the election process an "economy of influence" -- the new corruption.

Too harsh? It gets worse... this from Paul Krugman of the NYTimes today, Lies, Sighs and Politics (my apologies if you're not a subscriber; TimesSelect sucks):

In Tuesday’s Republican presidential debate, Mitt Romney completely misrepresented how we ended up in Iraq. Later, Mike Huckabee mistakenly claimed that it was Ronald Reagan’s birthday.

Guess which remark The Washington Post identified as the “gaffe of the night”?

Folks, this is serious. If early campaign reporting is any guide, the bad media habits that helped install the worst president ever in the White House haven’t changed a bit.

And on the Dem side too,

There wasn’t anything comparable to Mr. Romney’s rewritten history in the Democratic debate two days earlier, which was altogether on a higher plane. Still, someone should have called Hillary Clinton on her declaration that on health care, “we’re all talking pretty much about the same things.” While the other two leading candidates have come out with plans for universal (John Edwards) or near-universal (Barack Obama) health coverage, Mrs. Clinton has so far evaded the issue. But again, this went unmentioned in most reports.

Note to the media: Give me my vote back, and go do your job already!

Icky

2007-06-07T16:08:00.001-04:00

It seems over the past couple of days of sitting in my frigid office, I have developed some sort of weird throat bug. It hasn't gotten worse, but it hasn't gotten better either, and I felt a little woozy for part of the run last night. Booo :-(

On an unrelated note, however, I have decided that step 1 of becoming a better blogger is to come up with some system for posting every day. Part of the reason I post so infrequently is that I'm a perfectionist and it takes too damn long to write something down (though I'm getting better about it). There are other reasons, too, but I won't bore you with those.

But I am also a voracious reader -- or as my sister would say, an excessive/obsessive one -- and so I've decided that every day, I will link to one article or blog post that catches my eye. (Except for Saturdays, because it's my one self-imposed off-day from reading the news.) It might be happy or sad, or political, or cultural, or totally random, but that's just me. Sometimes I'll comment, sometimes I'll let the piece speak for itself. If it's a particularly interesting day, I might link twice. Maybe.

So here's today's story: Frank Gehry Designs His First Playground for NYC. Anyone else wish they could fit on the slide again?

(Thanks to Uptown Girl, who shares with me this particular fascination with all things Gehry)

Another race already?

2007-06-05T18:10:00.001-04:00

Well, it seems from my lazy blogging that I either a) don't run between races or b) have nothing interesting to say. Of course, neither of these is true, and in fact I'm inclined to say there is probably more than enough to fit in the latter category at least, but whatever...

In any case, I'll try the running first. The mini10k is coming up this Saturday and brings with it a larger than usual sense of doom and gloom. My record with this race isn't good: last year I had to skip it after the Healthy Kidney 10k so aggravated my shin splints that I spent the next day hobbling around in pain, and the year before... well, I don't use the term "race from hell" lightly! Sudden uptick in summer heat and humidity + accidentally causing a woman running next to me to trip and fall + not one, but two bouts of side stitches = recipe for disaster. As Coach Sponge has so lovingly observed, this was the only race where I've completely fallen apart; I was a shaking, dizzy mess by the time I crossed the finish line. Yep, there's one I don't want to be repeating.

So, while the three weeks between this and my last race have certainly not been enough to up the mileage significantly, and my fate this Saturday will ultimately be determined by barometric forces over which I have no control... I am feeling generally pretty good about my training. My mileage has been pretty consistent, and I've felt strong. I stayed in the city for the Memorial Day weekend -- I see no reason to travel with the crowds and it's enough for me just to wander the streets and be entertained -- so a group of Reservoir Dogs took Sunday morning to run the hills and soft, wide trails of the Rockefeller State Park Preserve instead. We even saw a deer just a few feet off the path! Our route ran just shy of 9 miles, much of it uphill, at a solid 9mm pace. Not so hard that we were dying, but just hard enough for the tiredness to linger over into...

The following Wednesday and a long, hard speed workout, just in time for the temperatures to begin rising for real. My teammate ALK and I formed our own mini-pace group for the three fast tempo pick-ups around the crowded lower loop. Because I apparently can't calculate splits and run at the same time, I didn't realize until much later how far under our target we were for the first pickup (6:41mm). At the time, though, I kept stressing out because I was convinced that ALK wasn't working as hard as I was -- until we hit the 1/4 mile recovery and I found out otherwise, which provided some limited comfort. The second one came in within range (7:06mm) but I was definitely fighting for it, and I latched onto another teammate, SH, to pull me through the last one. Added to the run to/from the park, the evening capped out at a long 8 miles... and a very good night's sleep! It was as tough a workout as I've had in a while, but I think it counts as a good one.

So here I am, just a few days out from the race and all I can say is that it really is up to the weather. I think I've got a few more days of warm-weather running under my belt than I did in 2005, but I'm still being cautious. If it's really hot, I'll make it a tempo run and take it as training for the JPMC Corporate Challenge coming up later this month. Even if the skies behave, I'm inclined to make a conscious effort to ease into the first few miles in the hopes I can actually negative-split this thing. We'll see.

At least my kidneys are healthy

2007-05-19T15:23:00.000-04:00

Let me start off with one thing:

10k races are hard. You can't race them all out like a 5k because you'll fall apart, but you can't dawdle either because it's not that long of a haul. They take discipline, strategy and a willingness to stick out the speed for several very tough miles.

And now this:

10k races in Central Park are really, really freakin' hard.

I had been looking forward to this morning's Healthy Kidney 10k for quite some time. It comes at the perfect time of year training- and weather-wise, and I love the idea of sharing the road with some world-class runners. The morning dawned a cloudy 55 degrees, perfect running weather. I warmed up for a mile down to the start, checked my bag, stretched, and lined up near the front with some fellow Reservoir Dogs; it was business as usual as I tried to calm my pre-race nerves.

But when the gun went off today, my heart just wasn't in it. Starting at the 6-min/mi marker still meant it took me a good 3 minutes to clear the crowds; and considering that I still managed to clock a 7:01 first mile, I probably overcompensated. The next two miles were a solid 6:52/6:54, on the low end of my target range but ok since I knew the longer, sneaky hills later in the course would slow me down anyway. But I was working and breathing a little too hard, and my upper body and arms were tense no matter how often I tried to shake it out. By the time I hit mile 4 and heard the cheers of my teammates (who are awesome!) I was really, really hating the distance and wishing the race were over already.

I took some water, walking for a bit as I drank in an effort to relax and regulate my breathing. I started up again, and was extra glad the direction of the race took us down Cat Hill and not up; but I hardly felt the relief and it was all I could do to ignore the voice in my head that was begging me to drop the effort down to tempo. With just 800m to go I thought I felt the onset of the dreaded side stitches (which only seem to crop up in 10k's), but with a couple of sharp intakes of air and by pushing into my side with my hand, I was able to stave them off. My teammate ALK caught up to me just 200m before the finish, on her way to a PR, and offered some encouragement. I wanted to stick with her, but I had nothing left for the final kick and finally crossed the finish line with a net time of 44:09, or 7:07 pace overall. I was wiped out, and not a little disappointed and frustrated. (Though the delicious plums they were handing out did make me feel a little better.)

Of course, considering how crappy I felt it's actually not so bad to have come in just 3 sec/mi over my PR, set at this same race last year. So my disappointment at not breaking it, and also at not breaking 7s (which is the bigger goal) is moderated somewhat by the thought that I could probably still do it on another day. And to be totally realistic, I need to up my weekly mileage too; 6.2 miles at a sub-7 pace is a long way to go on just 20-25 miles a week. (If only I could get my butt out of bed in the mornings!)

Ultimately -- I've said it before and I'll say it again -- learning to run a smart and fast 10k is a prime example of the long learning curve of this sport. In the meantime, the Blue Moon and bagels I had at the post-race brunch certainly helped, and the nap I'm about to take will be even better. :-)

Who you tellin' to run easy?

2007-04-30T11:10:00.000-04:00

So, a few weeks ago Reebok unveiled this "Run Easy" campaign that has the city subways, sidewalks and who knows what else plastered with little nuggets like these:

"Conversation is fuel. Run easy."
"Run to the beat of your own drummer."
"A 10 minute mile is just as far as a 6 minute mile."
"Stop and smell the garbage. Run easy NY."

I have mixed feelings about this campaign. (Except for the last one, 'cause that's just funny.)

On the one hand, I appreciate the effort to be inclusive and unintimidating. To me running is first and foremost a joy, whether I'm alone or in the company of others; the competition is secondary. As much as I complain about the crowds at races, as far as I'm concerned the more people are running, or doing any kind of exercise, the better. I'm happy to share the sport and I love that people can participate at any level (even if I reserve the right to whine about the walkers who start at the front of races). The first two quotes capture that sentiment, as do the TV spots.

On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I'm not the target audience for this campaign. At the end of the day, I am competitive. I do run hard. A good race, to me, is one where I'm gasping for air and feel like I just might be sick at the end. (I made the mistake of telling my mom, a non-runner and decided non-exerciser, this once. She freaked out a little.) A 10-minute mile is never, ever the same as a 6-minute mile. I also don't, as a matter of course, wear Reebok -- to me it's less a "runners' " brand than a sport/style/status brand that also makes running products -- and this campaign is unlikely to change that. (I feel the same way about Nike, though they have certainly been a presence in the running community for a longer time. I'm also pretty sure this campaign is meant to run in direct opposition to Nike's "Just Do It" ethos, but I digress).

What do you think? Can Reebok break into the running community?

When we touched the ground at JFK

2007-04-24T11:25:00.000-04:00

No more snow melting on the ground... (props if you get the musical reference)

Sunday dawned clear and sunny, not a cloud in the sky and the temps read somewhere in the 50s. Hooray for spring!

At a very early hour, six Reservoir Dogs and a couple of Harriers gathered at JFK Airport. We had no tickets, no baggage -- no nothing except for the rather "government issue"-looking square yellow chips we were told to strap to our ankles. It was my first time there, since I've always flown in/out of LaGuardia and am actually not scheduled to visit these terminals until I leave for Turkey in October. So yeah, my first visit to JFK was to run a 5k - on the runway!

We ended up getting there super early, so we just hung out for a while before hopping the shuttle to the starting point at one of the hangars. After a few minutes warming-up around a small parking lot and a couple of striders, we gathered at the start. The small field - less than 300 runners - milled about while final arrangements were made, and about 10 minutes after 9am we were off!

In just seconds, we had left the hangar and hit one of the small service paths that led in the direction of the runway. The air was incredibly dry - I felt parched even before the race started, and I don't think it was due to the half-bottle of wine I had with dinner the night before - but fortunately there was almost no wind and the very bright sun hadn't heated things up yet. I was a little nervous at the rumor that there would be no mile markers, but I quickly pushed those thoughts out of mind as I gathered my thoughts on the tougher task ahead. I heard BigIr come up behind me, and side by side we made the turn to where the real fun began: the runway! And not a small one either... as I looked up I saw the course open up ahead of me, very straight, long, and very flat.

Of course, this flatness was exactly why I chose this race. But it was strange! With no trees, no mile markers, no noise/spectators and very few fellow runners around me, it was incredibly difficult to judge my speed and progress. In fact, it felt a lot like running in the dark. I alternated between worrying that I'd run too fast and burn out (my breathing was heavy, if controlled), and thinking that maybe I wasn't working hard enough and I'd miss my goal (my legs felt fine and I felt relaxed). With the turnaround looming up ahead, I knew I'd at least have an idea of my halfway split then - but even my gauging of distance was off, not least because when you're running right at something this enormous it's hard to tell how close you are:

As the lead runners began to pass us on their way back, I thought briefly about looking to see how many women there were since I'd seen only two or three up at the front of the start with us. BigIr was (inexplicably) cheering for the ResDog men ahead of us, too. But then I reminded myself, hey, there's a big fat JetBlue Airbus parked up ahead and I'm running straight at it, maybe I should focus on that! I finally reached the turnaround, which was practically under the plane's nose, ignored the water station and checked my watch: 9:56. OH my. If I kept this pace, I'd not only smash my PR, I'd break 20, which I hadn't even considered. Could I do it? I had no idea - I was starting to feel the burn, but I wasn't sure how that would play out over the second half. At this point I was glad there had been no mile markers, since I probably would have freaked out and slowed down by now. So I decided to just go with it and see what happened.

With about a 10-second gap ahead of me, I tackled the second half mostly alone. One or two men passed me and I thought about tracking them, but they were clearly on a stronger kick than I was willing to muster given the speed I was already going. As my legs got a little heavy I could tell that I was slowing down a little, but I obviously had no idea by how much, so I focused on keeping my breathing regular and trying to relax my arms. As I exited the runway back onto the path, there was another water station. The kids holding out the cups were really nice - "Water, water!" and then a dejected "...guess not!" when I just ran by. Sorry guys, don't take it personally!

Finally, I could hear the cheers at the end and as I rounded a slight turn I looked up to see the finish line approaching. I started to hear the announcer yell out the clock time - "19:35, 19:40" - and I tried desperately to guess whether or not I could make it under 20, and again the flat distance deceived me - but no matter. I spotted BigIr just ahead of me and Coach Sponge cheering at the sides, and I barreled into the finish. I checked my watch: 20:15 (6:31 min/mi), which not only smashed my old PR by almost 45 seconds, it also fell well below my goal for this race. Yeah!

As the Res Dogs gathered around the finish, someone said to me, "Hey, I think you placed in your age group!" I ran over to check the scores and saw Uptown Girl's name on the list - she came in about a minute after I did - but not mine. Confused, I went to the race organizers; one of the guys turned to check the computer, saw my name, looked back and said like it was the most natural thing in the world, "Uh, you didn't place in your age group 'cause you placed 2nd overall." OH! Wait, what?! Seriously? I think I probably did a little happy dance right there. Woo hoo!!!

By the end of the morning every ResDog had not only put in an awesome performance, they each had an age place award to show for it. Way to go Dogs! I can't wait to run this race again next year... not least because I probably won't be able to touch this PR unless it's on another flat course! Later that day Coach Sponge suggested that the course may have been a teensy bit short - it was a new route this year so no way to compare to previous times - so I'd like to give the distance another shot. But in the meantime, that's my story :-)

I and I in the sky
You make me feel like I can fly
So high, elevation
-U2

And thanks to Peter of the Harriers for the runway shot!

On life and community

2007-04-19T17:16:00.000-04:00

What a strange week it has been for news, and the telling of stories, or truth, or not.

I am referring not only to the events at VA Tech, though these in particular have left me with a mixed bag of thoughts as pertains to the matter of guns in the US (gun control alone is too narrow a way to describe it, really), and the role of the mainstream media, and perceived notions of safety and community and heroism and all that. I won't write about them here, not least because they followed all too closely on the heels of the more personal tragedy that took place back home in Texas last week, and I'm not ready to write about that either.

But I do want to link to one of the more thoughtful, introspective pieces I've seen on the subject, a rather non-political post from one of my favorite political blogs, The American Scene. Food for thought, if nothing else. And certainly different from what you'll hear from the echo chamber that is the 24-hour-news cycle.

Speed chronicles

2007-04-11T23:27:00.000-04:00

Tonight I gave my legs a good run for their money with a speed workout only three short days after the last one. This is not my usual routine; I simply don't run enough miles a week to warrant more than one speed workout in a given seven-day period. But a combination of things -- missing last week's team workout 'cause I got held up at work, feeling like I was flailing during the one before that (even though my times were on target), and a goal race now less than two weeks away -- made me feel like I had to fit it in.

Fortunately on Sunday morning Coach Sponge was looking to do a little post-Cherry Blossom workout, namely 4x 1-mile pickups at his 10-mile pace... which is my 5k pace. Ha! I met him and fellow teammate DK on the reservoir under a clear, sunny but windy and cold Easter sky. We jogged a short warm-up and took off. The first lap was a little conservative, but we picked it up and held a solid, steady pace that hovered right around 6:50. It felt great! I was working hard but I felt controlled and relaxed. For a moment I wasn't sure if I should do the fourth pick-up, but all it took from Coach Sponge was a little taunt -- "well, you could run just half a mile, but it sucks to drop out... or you could run 1:42, 1:40, and then kick my ass!" -- to snap me out of it. For the record, I did not kick his ass (I didn't try) but I finished the last pickup as strongly as I started it, which was the real point.

Subsequent email conversations with Coach Sponge about the workout raised some interesting questions about what my threshold for pain/discomfort is, or could be, during races. Given that I was able to hold a fast workout pace for so long and still feel good at the end, could I be racing faster right now? I'm not sure what the answer is, but I'm ok with that. I think it takes years to really push your physical and mental limits as a racer and I actually like the idea that this sport will continue to challenge me on down the road.

In any case, tonight was another good one. Due to some unfortunate recent events back home I found my mind wandering on a couple of occasions, but for the most part I again felt controlled and pretty light on my feet. Like on Sunday, we did a series of long pick-ups, albeit at a slower tempo pace. My group started at 7:30s and brought it down to about 7:05s by the third and final pick-up, so it worked out perfectly. Best of all, it was one of those nights where everyone held together through to the end - yaay! (This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that I threatened to crack down on anyone in my group who tried to "race" the workout... cue evil laugh)

In unrelated news, I just bought myself my birthday present for the year. And though it's six months early, I won't actually get to use it until the actual date... That's right folks, I booked my flight to Turkey!! Yipeee!!!

Not just pearls for breakfast - diamonds!

2007-04-09T13:24:00.000-04:00

This weekend the Washington Post magazine wrote about a fascinating experiment they conducted in the DC Metro: they put Joshua Bell, one of the best violinists in the world, at a subway entrance to play on his $3.5 million Stradivarius for an hour - just to see what would happen. The article is long but it's worth a full read, as it's full of surprises and insights through to the end.

What I would have given to see this! I saw Bell perform at Lincoln Center last summer during the Mostly Mozart festival. By the grace of you-know-who I managed to score dirt-cheap seats that were literally right on stage, just a few feet away from him. His performance was unlike anything I have ever seen or heard before. I won't even try to describe it - it was a visceral, moving experience that completely defies any words I might try to put to it.

Muddy spring

2007-04-01T20:28:00.000-04:00

I retired my marathon shoes today. The new training season is officially underway!

And last Saturday (yes, this is a belated update, I know) heralded the official start of spring -- with a race run through both mud, puddles and leftover snow, of course! Early Sunday morning, over a dozen Reservoir Dogs piled into a van for the hour-long trip upstate to FDR State Park, site of the annual Mudders & Grunters 5-mile race. I confess to having wimped out of this race for the past two years, mostly out of fear that I'd twist an ankle or something. But with my next goal race still four weeks away, I thought this was as good a time as any and signed up.

As soon as we arrived at the park, we broke out the duct tape to keep our shoes from being sucked off in the mud. Of course, we were all wearing old pairs since they'd be retired after the race - but hopefully not during it! The morning dawned cloudy and cool; but in anticipation of the water hazards I decided to go with bike shorts, figuring that the less wet fabric I was lugging around, the better.

With the organizers' warning (or threat?) that the course would go through 5 miles "off road, through as much muck, mud and water as we can find," we took off. The first bit circled twice around the flat, only slightly marshy starting area - the last time the course would be that easy! It wasn't long before we hit the first real mud pits, which made up most of the course. I alternated between dancing along the edges of the mush, where I figured the footing would be a little more secure, and just sloshing through; the tradeoff for this, of course, were about a dozen cuts on my legs from smashing through brush. I was so focused on how my toes were feeling, though - or rather, the lack of sensation since they were frozen from the seeping snow/slush and the first of several ankle-deep water crossings - that I hardly felt it.

On I went, through more than a few near-wipeouts and near-misses of trees and other obstacles. It's really a wonder I didn't fall over one of the many tree trunks we had to hop over (and one under). It was virtually impossible to pass runners for most of the course since the "path" (ha!) was narrow, so when the rare flat or dry patch came, I forced myself to kick it in and make up small bits of distance. Of course none of this really mattered, since there were no mile markers and any speed I picked up was quickly dropped the minute I hit the next pit or hill. And the hills -- it was like a steeplechase! At one point there must have been half a dozen very short but nearly vertical rises, one right after the other, that took a crazy mix of momentum, leaning forward and sheer recklessness to scramble up. One longer hill I actually ended up climbing on my hands and knees, it was so slippery. Of course, then you got to the top and quickly realized the next steps would be less a controlled descent and more a slip/bound/slide to the inevitable mud pit at the bottom. Weeee!

About halfway through the race my teammate NL caught up to me and we pushed each other through the second half. My quads were spent, my toes were frozen (though the rest of me was comfortable) and I couldn't catch my breath. And still the whole time I was thinking, THIS IS FREAKING AWESOME!! Finally, we hit the final half mile and the mother of all water hazards: a muddy, freezing chest-deep stream (or pit? who knows!). I paused only for an instant and plunged in. Gah, was it cold! I grabbed hold of the rope and pulled myself across and back up the muddy bank, but only then did I realize that the water pit wasn't the challenge -- the challenge was finishing the next half mile on completely frozen legs! There was a long swampy stretch where my best, strongest effort produced what can only be described as a hop/walk/trudge; then a steep, long climb to the finish.

Fortunately several of my teammates were done already, and they cheered me on to a 46:50 finish -- the hardest 9:22 pace I have ever run in my life, but also the most fun! I crossed the line and someone yelled out, "we've got a bleeder!" which was the first time I realized the damage done by my brush-smashing technique (you can see one of the gashes on my thigh in this pic). Fortunately it looked worse than it really was; now it just looks like I ran into an angry cat :-) As we each finished, we gathered on the hill to cheer on the rest of the team before stumbling over to the hose to rinse off our legs (brrr!). A much-needed dry change of clothes later, we headed back into the city, where we spent the entire rest of the day at a local bar toasting our success and swapping war stories. Finally at around 7pm, I made it home and into the shower before falling into bed. A day well spent!

The time to say ENOUGH is now

2007-03-15T11:34:00.000-04:00

I just changed the org icon on the left to link to a new organization called enough, which my company is helping to launch. Please check it out; it's worth knowing not only that genocide + mass atrocities are happening in places besides Darfur, but that we (government and individuals) can actually do something to prevent it from happening again.

As I said, the organization is in its infancy, but it has good genes and has the potential to do really great, innovative work. The truth is that groups like Save Darfur have done a good job of raising awareness -- awareness that has kept the Bush administration from favoring its oil & security interests in Sudan -- but it has not yet been sufficient to push the White House towards real, meaningful action against a genocidal regime. enough aims to build on that awareness to make change happen in Darfur and beyond.

Oh, and the exclamation mark in the logo is meant to look like a coffin. Pretty neat, huh?

We need to talk

2007-03-09T11:31:00.000-05:00

Sempre Libera: Chloe, it's Sempre.

Chloe: Sempre. Where are you?

SL: I don't have time to explain anything, Chloe, can you patch me through to Jack?

C: Yeah, hold on.

SL: Thanks.

(Chloe scowls while patching SL through to Jack) (phone rings... brrrrrrp. brrrrrrrp)

Jack Bauer: This is Jack.

SL: Jack, it's Sempre Libera.

J: Sempre.

SL: Jack, we need to talk.

J: I know. (Jack sneaks around a corner aiming his gun; surveys the scene; coast is clear).
Sempre, I need you to tell me what you know.

SL: I don't have time to explain. I can't see you anymore. Just trust me. Can you do that for me?

J: DAMMIT!

SL: Jack!

J: I need you to pull up a list of all other activities you could possibily be doing from 9-10PM Monday nights and send it to my phone.

SL: Jack, that's impossible, that is top secret government information.

J: Sempre, I need this - find a way to get it to me. I have to go. I can't do this anymore. (Jack hangs up)

(Sempre Libera is left staring at her phone confused. Did she just break up with him or did he dump her? I guess you'll have to stay tuned to find out!)

Thanks to my very funny sister for this one! And Jack, it's been a good 5+ years but it's over. If you see Tony Almeda, though, give him my number...

Run for beer

2007-03-06T11:40:00.000-05:00

I was going to run this morning.

No really, I really was this time! Except that the wind chill was below zero. My sister thinks I'm nuts because when we leave the apartment I'm always wearing 1-2 layers less than she is, but these conditions are just too frigid for even my cold-blooded fingers and toes.

Happily, I did manage to banish the sleep monster in time for my first Pilates class in three years. I haven't belonged to a gym since I moved to NYC - I'd rather be outside! - but I have lately come to the realization that if I'm going to get stronger, I really do need to be doing something beyond just running around in circles. But since I have no patience for weight training, I found a ballet studio in my neighborhood that offers open classes (ballet, yoga, mat pilates) for adults, and off I went. This morning there were only three of us there, which is apparently an increase from the usual one, so it was practically like having a personal instructor. I had forgotten how hard those exercises are! I definitely worked up a sweat and there's a very good chance I'll be quite sore tomorrow. I put a nice little dent in my credit card on a 25-class pass, so here's to making this a weekly occurrence...

Update the next day: Oh man, do my abs ache... on the upside it means I was doing the exercises right :-)

And oh, yes, the weekend: It's a testament to the nature of my running club that well over 30 of us made the trek up to Washington Heights for the fr~~ee beer~~ NYRR Coogan's 5k (which isn't even a club points race) on a crisp Sunday morning. I toyed with the idea of breaking out the shorts for this one but with the wind, I'm glad I stuck to the tights rather than risk pulling something. I wasn't aiming to PR - my PR is actually on this (very hilly) course but that's only because I haven't run very many 5k's - but I was looking to push it. I put in a good 10 minutes of warm-up jogging & striders before lining up near the front, and we were off!

I hadn't been able to spot any fellow ResDogs in the corral, but it wasn't long before I had MadLou and BD in sight ahead of me - at which point I freaked out a little because they're both faster than I am. I started this race too conservatively last year, but I didn't want to go the opposite way and burn out early! The first hill put a better distance between us though, and as the crowds thinned I tried to manage my effort, keeping my knees high on the way up the hills and relaxing my arms on the way down. I usually try not to barrel down hills so any passing I was doing was on the way up.

I neared the switchback, which is the only real drawback to this race, slowed for the turn and steeled myself for the very long uphill back, which is simultaneously the best and worst part of the course. Worst because it's so damn hilly and I was having a lot of trouble relaxing my arms; best because the turnaround meant I was hearing a different teammate cheer for me (and one bark) about every 20 seconds. Go Dogs!

Anyway, I stayed as close to this woman (boo, no picture of me!) as I could for as long as I could. Finally I saw the pedestrian overpass and I knew it was all downhill (literally) from there. BigIr did manage to overtake me at the last possible second, but I still made it under the banner at 21:23, 6:53/mi (update: NYRR adjusted times by 7-8 sec), which I'm very pleased with. My first and third miles were even, and though the tough middle mile was a good 12 seconds slower it was "cancelled out" by the very fast downhill finish. Ideally I would have had a little extra kick left, but that'll have to be my next goal. NYRR President Mary Wittenberg, whom I had passed just before the halfway point, finished just steps behind me and congratulated me on the race, which I thought was very nice of her. Oh, and the Reservoir Dogs women came in 5th overall - YIPEE!!

don't we look intimidating?

Finally everyone piled into Coogan's for some fake eggs, free beer, and several rounds of random cheering and singing. I didn't drink last year under the prextext that not even in college had I started before noon; but this year I looked at my watch, saw 10am and thought, meh, whatever! Three and a half beers later (but still very much standing, surprisingly), I headed home. A few hardy Dogs were still on their way to another bar, but even this celebratory Doggie can only go so long without a good breakfast!

It's sad because it's true

2007-03-03T13:48:00.000-05:00

I don't usually blog about my dating life and all of the hilarity, bizarreness and tragicomedy that it brings, but today I'm going to make an exception to share one story so absurd, I think I have to write it down just to prove to myself that it actually happened. Really, some things, you just can't make up.

On Thursday night a crew of fellow Reservoir Dogs gussied up in our finest attire for the annual NYRR Club Night. In spite of the scarcity of wine - I mean, we may be runners but a black-tie-optional event is not the place to have to resort to bottles of Coors Light - it was a wonderful evening. The ResDogs haven't always been regular attendees but I think from now on we'll make it a tradition.

Anyway, I arrived a little before 7pm and was making my way to the check-in table when I spotted a particular familiar face - prompting me to scurry hurriedly in the opposite direction in the hopes that he hadn't seen me spot him. Ah yes, there is a back story.

Early last summer I was out carousing with a mixed group of Res Dogs and New York Harriers when I was introduced to a guy, we'll call him A, from another running club. For the next I-don't-know-how-many minutes, though it felt like an eternity, I was subjected to a monologue that could basically be summed up as follows: "I'm really fast. Have I told you how fast I am? Boy, I ran a 2:xx marathon this year and it sucked! Last time I ran it in 2:xx-minus-whatever. I'm so out of shape. Who do you run with? I used to run with Team X but you know, they're just not fast enough. I won this race and this one and these are my personal records. How often do you run? How old are you? I'm 30-something and it's hard to find a good woman. Have I told you how fast I am? Did I tell you about my last marathon? Boy, it sucked, I should have won it!"

Blah, blah blah blah blah BLAH.

Many minutes later, desperate for an exit, I rather ungracefully latched on to a friend's conversation. Sure enough, it wasn't long before A realized that he'd actually have to share the spotlight with two more people (one of whom, as it turned out, was also very fast but didn't feel the need to volunteer as much) and slunk away.

Fast forward about eight months to the ballroom of the Hilton Hotel: I'm hovering near the rapidly-depleted bar with my teammates, pretending to watch the awards ceremony and wondering when the dancing will start. RC and I get into a conversation about his newfound interest in string theory - actually, I don't know anything about string theory, but my curiosity knows no bounds, so it was really more me asking him questions about it - when A walks up.

RC, trying to include him in the conversation: Hey man, nice to meet you. SL and I were just talking about string theory, and how there are 11 different space-time dimensions and so maybe if I'm in one dimension here and in another there...

A: Oh yeah, man, I totally get it! It's kind of like how I just won this medal for running X distance at an under-6min/mile pace, you know? So...

RC and SL, confused and silent for a moment, RC finally says: Oh yeah? Wow, that's really fast, congratulations. I'm impressed - I'm just trying to get down to Xmin/mile pace so I'm looking for training ideas...

A: Yeah, so I just won this award and you know, I'm really fast and I won this race but I used to run the marathon in 2:xx and now I'm really out of shape and... (launches into the same monologue, RC tries valiantly to participate in the conversation but I'm pretty much tuned out.)

A: So anyway, I'm going to get a drink, I'll be right back.

A walks 8 feet over to the bar.

RC, to SL: Uh, wanna go dance?

SL: YES, please.

We dash off. RC is humoring me and my sad attempt to invoke my Latin dancing genes, but we're having fun, when A reappears. He asks to take over, and to my chagrin, but because he is a gentleman, RC agrees.

A: So, I really like you.

SL: Huh?

A: Yeah, you know, I saw you earlier but I don't know if you remember me or not, but I've liked you ever since I met you. Maybe we can hang out sometime.

SL, in my head: You like me?! You don't even know me! You're so busy talking about yourself and how fast you are that I bet if I asked you, you wouldn't be able to tell me a single thing about who I am. I'd be surprised if you remembered my name.

SL, out loud: Um, okay, maybe.

A: But you know, I saw you at the check-in and you ignored me, so maybe you don't like me. But I like you. Who do you run with? (Rolls his eyes when I tell him.) You know, I used to run with Team X, but they're not fast enough...

SL: Yeah, I know. But I like my team and I don't care if you think we're competitive or not. I didn't join a running club to win races, that's not my style.

(More blather about how fast he is and the medal he just won.)

A: So, can I call you? If I call you, will you answer? How do I even know if you're going to give me the right number?

SL, kicking myself almost immediately for giving him my number since I've declined to give it on many occasions, and I don't know what kept me from saying no this time: I don't give fake numbers.

A: Well, so if I call you we can hang out? I really like you, and, you know, I don't know, you don't seem to like me very much...

SL, no longer trying to hide my annoyance: I gave you my number. You can call me if you want, or not. I don't care. And if you'll excuse me, I see a friend over there that I haven't had the chance to say hi to.

A: Ok, so I'll see you later?

SL: (shrugs, walks away)

Amazing. In one fell swoop, this guy managed to annoy me, insult my teammates and my friends, be maddeningly insecure and completely dismissive.

To top it all off, as I was leaving at the end of the evening, he yells out:

A: I'll call you, ok?

SL, raising my eyebrows and unsmiling: Um, ok, whatever. (Walks away.)

Friday night, 10pm: He calls.

I ignore it. (Who the hell calls at 10pm on a Friday, anyway?!) Needless to say, I won't be picking up anytime soon.

Really, this guy is talented. If DELUSION were a country, he and Dick Cheney would be kings.

Like Ahhnold said

2007-02-20T17:39:00.000-05:00

I'll be back. Except I mean that I am back. Or something.

The Reservoir Dogs returned to Prospect Park this weekend for the third consecutive year of Cherry Tree 10-mile Relay fun. We had a great turnout - 7 relay teams and 2 truly hardcore individual runners - on a crystal clear, chilly Saturday morning. I couldn't feel my toes until about 5 minutes into my warm-up, so I'm glad I spent a good 10 minutes prancing around before it was my turn to go. While a combination of marathon training [AB is running Vienna] and injury [Uptown Girl] kept the Speedy Beagles from reprising our 2006 victory in the women's division, we gladly ceded that honor to our Bacon-chasing friends, who together with the SpongeDogs! took 2 of the 3 top relay honors. Go ResDogs!

And best of all (well, for me, anyway), I seem to have regained my mojo - bringing in the last 3.4-mi leg of the relay at 23:28 (6:54/mi). Not only does that finally bring me back under 7's again (yaay!), but it's actually not so far off my time of 23:04 last year, when I was ostensibly in much better shape and breaking all kinds of personal records. Woo hoo!

Fellow TRD-er Ro and I after the race

Not crazy, but

2007-02-16T10:55:00.000-05:00

Ok, maybe a little. But at least not in this regard: While reading this article in the NYT, I had a weird moment of realization. The author mentions, almost in passing, that the subject of the article, who has Asperger's, also has something called synesthesia, meaning he sees "numbers as having shapes, colors and textures; he also assigns them personalities." (emphasis mine)

Whoa, I thought - there's a name for that?

My friends have always teased me when I tell them that math for me was always a game of personalities. I don't remember when it started, but each single digit kept its personality all the way through my high school AP Calculus course, which was the last math class I took. When I realized a few years ago that no one else knew what I was talking about, I just chalked it up to my predilection for the humanities and the social sciences: I was good at math, but maybe all the inter-number conflicts and alliances (oh yes, it got quite elaborate at times) were my brain's way of making the subject interesting. These days I don't do much math, other than the usual personal finance stuff, but if you've ever heard me "react" (for lack of a better word) to something like a phone number and wondered how on earth I could "not like" something as insignificant as a sequence of digits, well, now you know why: sometimes the numbers just won't play nice!

In any case - and I really don't know much about this since I just found out about the name this morning - it's a very strange feeling to know that something you thought was fun, and possibly normal, though probably a little quirky, has actually been studied and classified. All I've got to go on at the moment is the sagacity of Wikipedia, which describes what seems to be my specific form of synesthesia, called ordinal-linguistic personification... and I'll just say that it's a little strange to see the workings of your brain spelled out on paper.

Better than singing in the shower

2007-02-07T13:32:00.000-05:00

The autumn choral season for me was a bit of a stumble / trip / fall back into my old music ways. To be honest, part of the reason I ended up with the choir I did was because I missed most of the other auditions in the city while I was on vacation (or else they were right after I got back, in which case I had no time to prepare a piece), and this particular group opened on a more flexible timeline. I did go out for one other audition for a choir that was co-founded by a former colleague, but I wasn't ready, and I'm afraid it showed.

In any case, last season I also made the mistake of waiting until two weeks before the concert to listen to the pieces all the way through - this has something to do with learning the director's style, but is also my fault for slacking on my own practice time - and I never really felt like I got a sense for what each full piece sounded like. The end result was that when performance night came, I was still struggling to figure out where I fit into the whole thing, making the whole process more nerve-wracking than exhilarating.

This time around, though I've missed the last two weeks of rehearsal, I've spent a good amount of time listening non-stop to the two recordings, one for each piece, recommended by our director. This is helping already, since I had hardly any trouble reading my way through the music with the group last night. (Which also has something to do with singers' tendency to memorize music rather than read it, but to the instrumentalists who always point this out, I say: ppppllllfffff!) More importantly, I haven't been this excited about a concert in a really, really long time!

Our director chose two twentieth-century pieces, which is especially cool since lately I've been finding myself gravitating towards more contemporary classical music anyway. And these are really quite lovely. We're doing a mid-century Requiem by Maurice Duruflé, a French organist who was such a perfectionist that he produced only a very small - but very good - body of work. As I've listened to it I've had the sense that at once it's familiar, and not - no surprise, since it leans heavily on Gregorian chant but has just enough minor chords and impressionistic tendencies to make you pay closer attention. The other, newer piece, Lux Aeterna by the American Morten Lauridsen, is both complementary (it, too, has Gregorian influences as well as about half a dozen others throughout the centuries) and distinctive. It's expansive and meditative, celestial and human all at the same time, and I think it's well on its way to becoming one of my favorites.

Last night I came out of rehearsal feeling uplifted, happy and excited. It's a challenging body of work - I don't have much experience with some of the individual styles - but it's also a great opportunity for me to continue to grow as a singer. The fact that I'm understanding and enjoying the pieces more means I can be more confident in rehearsal and work harder at dropping some of my nagging bad habits/techniques (all singers have them). And it comes at a crucial time for the group, too, because the soprano part splits often and my section is missing some of our stronger singers this season - so it's my turn to step up to the plate. I can't wait!

Now that I've thawed out

2007-02-04T16:21:00.000-05:00

I'll report on my "anniversary" race, the Gridiron 4-miler. The day dawned sparkling and clear, and lovely except for the minor issue of a wind chill in the single digits. Brrr! NYRR debuted the wave start system today, the experience of which pretty much defined my race. Some of the hiccups were minor - 3 minutes between waves is way, way too much time - but others really threw me for a loop.

Though I typically line up near the front , today I started in the "not the last corral" #7 (a full 18 minutes after the first gun!) since I knew only my net time would affect my finishing place. Besides, in this cold, who was I to show up any earlier than I absolutely had to? But my experience was still very frustrating. I spent the entire four miles weaving and dodging runners, and yelling "on your right/left" when I realized that if I kept weaving I'd effectively double the race distance. To their credit, most people are nice and do move when asked, but I could have used the extra oxygen to run instead of shouting. Worse, on several occasions I was forced to stop just short of crashing into runners whose ipods were turned up too loud to hear me, or to push through people who were walking/running four or five abreast. Actually, let's be honest - I did my share of elbowing. I mean, ipods during a crowded 4-mile race?! Come on, people. You get no sympathy from me!

Of course all of this made it harder than it already was to put in a good performance, given my post-marathon-slump-that-won't-go-away and some late evenings at work, all of which have kept me from putting in more than 3 runs a week and missing speedwork. I'm not displeased with my time of 29:11 (7:17 pace), since I pushed hard but didn't really kick it in, and also since I couldn't really feel my toes for the first mile. But I do wonder how many seconds I killed shoving through the crowds.

In any case, though I'm sure they'll be deluged with feedback, I did send NYRR my two cents, namely that they either use the race marshalls (or some other system) to keep the right or left side free for passing; or that they designate the first corrals (today the first three, for example) for people running under 9-minute miles only, so I'm not still passing runners 20 minutes into the race. I hope they listen!

Fairy tales from the White House

2007-01-23T13:51:00.000-05:00

Um, oops, I mean the State of the Union.

This morning my sister asked me if I was going to watch it. This would ordinarily be a silly question considering who she was asking, but these days it's a valid one. The answer is, I probably will tune in at the start, but I'm honestly not sure how far I'll get before I give up. Differences in political theory and approach, I can handle. But I don't care for outright lies.

Interestingly, Gene Healy of the Cato Institue ran a critique of the whole State of the Union concept yesterday, and it's worth checking out if you're interested in how the format has evolved (it's a short read). Perhaps even more interesting is who it's coming from. I've always said that my problem is not with conservative politics (even if I disagree with it), but with the feckless nuttery of the Bush-brand of Republicanism. Well by the looks of it, I think these conservatives and I might actually be starting to agree!

Post-SOTU update: Jim Webb (D-VA) kicks major, major butt. Way to go! (all you DNC-ers, sit up and pay attention!)

I'm out of excuses

2007-01-18T10:06:00.000-05:00

I'm happy to report that the Houston Half-Marathon was not even close to the disaster I expected it to be. I ran a 1:51:21 (8:29 pace), negative splits - a time I'm very pleased with given my almost total lack of preparation for it. The bottom of my knees were tender for about a day after the race, but other than that I came out in one piece - so I guess this is my drop-kick out of the post-marathon slump. It was nice to have my parents, and their giant Mexican flag, cheering out on the course. It's so terrifically flat (I've always said the only hills in Houston are speed bumps and freeway on-ramps) that it is a shame I wasn't in any shape to race it, but at this point I'm over it. For a fuller race report, check out fellow Speedy Beagle Uptown Girl's post...

Oh, and I do love the finisher graphics:

Entire field: 890th place with 6062 finishers behind. About 13% of finishers ahead.

Gender: 248th place with 3773 finishers behind. About 6% of finishers ahead.

Division: 58th place with 613 finishers behind. About 8% of finishers ahead.

And I finished ahead of 78% of the men, too - woo hoo!

As for 2007 in running, I've decided to take a full year to focus on the shorter races: 10k and under. I generally place better in these, but I've never felt like I've been able to really dedicate my training to them - there's always some longer race looming in the distance - so I'm dying to really burn some rubber! That also means no marathon in 2007; although this last decision has more to do with running falling under other priorities, namely grad school applications and a big trip I have planned for the fall, than anything else.

So, for the warm up: my NYRR 'anniversary' run, the Gridiron, and then the real Speedy Beagle premiere: the Cherry Tree 10-Mile Relay in Prospect Park.

Blindsided

2007-01-10T22:19:00.000-05:00

Well, not really.

I'm running the Houston half-marathon this weekend.

I am so, completely, ridiculously unprepared, it's not even funny. I'm still on a whopping 15-mile/week average, no speedwork, and it's been over two months since the marathon.

So I'm taking bets on what my time will be. I'm sure it will fall somewhere between my slowest half (during the marathon) and my fastest (Philly in September). Ha! What end I'm closest to, and how much it hurts, is anyone's guess. At least it will be flat. But it might rain.

And if all else fails, at least I will get to eat good BBQ!

Home to home, and back again

2007-01-08T17:33:00.000-05:00

People have often remarked, with some surprise, at how I identify so much more strongly with my Mexican heritage than with the German side of the family. I am technically half-and-half; I have immediate family in both countries, I have spent significant amounts of time on both continents, and I speak both Spanish and German at home. Add to the mix growing up in the U.S. -- but even then I was surrounded by both Mexican and German nursery stories and icons; the likes of 'Puff the Magic Dragon' figure nowhere in my childhood, but both Cri-Cri and Der Struwwelpeter do.

But I know why. In the 24 years since my family packed up and moved to California (and then Texas), I have been back to Mexico every year, with only a handful of exceptions. With every single holiday season, there was a week in Mexico City with grandparents, family and friends, and a week spent exploring the vast landscape of my native soil. With every year, a greater and deeper understanding of the hundreds and thousands of years of rich culture that brought me to where I am today.

And finally this year, a trip without Mexico City led my family instead to the Gulf & Caribbean shores of the Yucatán peninsula, arguably the only one of Mexico's great destinations that I had not yet visited (and no, we didn't go to Cancun). Yucatán, where, as history has it, the great Mayans rose and fell half a millenia before the Spanish ever thought to look in this direction.

But that's the amazing thing - the Mayans didn't fall. The people of the region - made up of the states of Yucatán, Quintana Roo and Campeche - still speak Maya in the smaller towns and villages; children learn to speak, read and write Spanish only when they get to elementary school. We spent Christmas Eve watching the kids in a tiny village outside of Valladolid, in a strange and lovely mixed ritual, taunt a young man wearing a devil's mask in Maya - but they still called him 'Diablo,' and our backdrop was the town church.

We clambered up the steps of great pyramids, their secrets unearthed to our modern eyes only recently after seven, eight even nine hundred years of cover under tropical forests. In the architecture of Uxmal, Coba and Chichen-Itza we learned to tell what was pure Maya and what had been influenced by the Toltecs of central Mexico. We toured smaller sites, far from the busloads and videocams of the resort-hopping crowd. We learned the numbering system and how the Maya were among the first to invent the concept of zero. We saw the dramatic rise and fall of each 'century' - a cycle of 52 years after which the Mayas thought the world would end - and wondered if this time around, in 2012, they might not be right.

We dove into the cool waters of the Caribbean, pushing past the tourists in their glass-bottomed boats and their snorkel-conga-lines in search of coral reefs, sea urchins and colorful parrot fish. I hung out with a giant sea turtle, only one of us in awe of the other; I hovered, breathless, just a few feet away as he munched happily on the short blades of grass that dotted the sandy ocean floor. The ocean water crackled. But the water of the cenotes was still, eerily so; as I paddled around the chilly, crystal clear Dos Ojos, the rock walls echoed only the gurgling of my leaky snorkel and the cavern floor dropped out dozens of feet beneath me. It was like swimming over the surface of the moon.

All is not perfect in Mexico, of course. 10 days spent sharing small hotel rooms among four adults, without any major bloodshed, is a feat in and of itself. And there is always a part of me that wishes I could explore Mexico on my own, as I have been lucky enough to do in other countries through so many of my travels. But it is my country, and I was glad to be home - and here, back in NYC, I am glad to be home too.

A goodbye to more than just 2006

2006-12-20T13:32:00.000-05:00

I'm heading off to sunny Yucatan tomorrow to spend the holidays roasting on the beach, climbing pyramids and eating lots and lots of yummy Mexican street food with my family. See y'all in 2007...

Also, a sad and fond goodbye to Sabina. She was a beloved member of my family for 15-1/2 years, the source of much laughter and a model of infinite patience. She spoke two languages (Spanish and German) and loved nothing more than playing with old milk jugs, munching on french fries and pecans, and chasing squirrels. Sometimes, her toenails were painted pink. Schlaf schön, Sabinita!

I'm standing in my corner

2006-12-11T11:39:00.000-05:00

... because I am a bad, bad blogger! Sorry.

Anyway, on the running front the past month has been up-and-down, with probably more down[time] than ups. I've ~~averaged~~ aspired to a whopping 15 miles/week and, with only one or two exceptions, have generally felt like I'm having to work a lot harder to hold an easy pace than I would like. I recovered quickly from the soreness - I was fine the Wednesday after the marathon - but I guess I've been surprised by how much more gradual the real recovery has been. I was really looking forward to racing the Kleinerman 10k this weekend -- I'm much better at the shorter races, and my times are generally better in cold weather. But I took one look at my training log and decided to tempo-run it instead, so I huffed and puffed my way to a 47:16 (7:36 pace, evenly run except for the snail-like first mile). The upside was that it was nice to be out on the course again and see some familiar faces: Uptown Girl and the Flyers' prez were out cheering, and I ran into Derek and Josh after the race.

Actually, in some ways my running has not been so different from my singing. One Sunday the sopranos gathered at a member's apartment for a sectional, and we sounded great. Two days later at the full rehearsal we could hardly get a line out without making Mozart and Haydn roll over, repeatedly, in their graves. Ack! In any case, our winter concert is this week and I'm excited, if still a little under-prepared. I've done pretty well with the Haydn, which I managed to sight-sing almost in its entirety after missing two or three rehearsals in a row, but the Mozart vespers are much trickier and have definitely challenged my very rusty time-keeping abilities. While I've been singing much, much longer than I've been doing a lot of other things (including running), it has been 2 years since I've been part of a musical organization and I hate to admit that I've been a little slower to get back into the grind of regular rehearsing than I would have liked.

Fortunately, the personal and work parts of my life have been on a decided, crazy upswing and things are looking good. I'll leave it at that for now :-)

NYC Marathon

2006-11-06T17:31:00.000-05:00

A week of intensive carbo-loading, obsessive germ-watching, and at least one small incident later (forget cabs, delivery guys or potholes - apparently the real danger on NYC streets are stray flying footballs, especially when they're aimed at my head), the big day arrived: the New York City Marathon.

The day dawned (um, metaphorically, since it was still pitch black out) cool and crisp as my sister and I left our apartment. The streets were bare except for other waking runners and those who stumbled home, their night just ending. Without a cab in sight - except for the two that flat-out refused to pick us up - my heart was already beginning to pound as the minutes passed. We finally flagged down a cabbie who seemed unfazed by our mismatched, throw-away pre-race attire and arrived at the midtown bus pick-up, where our parents and eager support crew (Uptown Girl and AB) were waiting. And a lot of waiting was what we did next: we stood in line for an hour before boarding, we waited, and slept a little, on the drive, and we arrived in Staten Island and stood in another long line for the Port-a-Potty before settling down to relax and prepare ourselves mentally for the journey that lay ahead.

And this is what I saw and felt along the way:

Ugliest throw-away, pre-race get-up: A tall man dressed in a 1980s style tracksuit that obviously once belonged to his wife, because it was pastel and gold and about 5 inches too short on him.

Most efficient pre-race activity: The woman who decided to skip the Port-a-Potty line, and instead popped a squat literally a foot behind me on the grass, in full-circle view of everyone around us.

Most frustrating: The many men who lined up in the front, women-only section of our orange start corral.

Most surprisingly satisfying: Adding my sweatshirt to the flying coterie of shirts and pants over the heads of my fellow runners. The same goes for tossing my long-sleeve t-shirt at mile 4, and my gloves at mile 17.

Moment of childlike wonder: Laughing hysterically in the first few minutes of the race as the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge repeatedly dipped out from under us under the pounding of 37,000 pairs of feet. It's one of the strangest sensations I've ever experienced - like bouncing in slow-motion on the surface of a wave - and was as uniquely delightful as anything else I experienced that day.

Whoa, really?: Buoyed by the famous cheering crowds of Brooklyn, the first 10k of the race flew by like nothing. We cruised at a comfortable pace, passing families, firemen, fellow paisanos (my sister had a Mexican flag pinned to the back of her shorts, and I on the front, eliciting cheers from both fellow runners and spectators), and the occasional witty hand-written sign, like "Slow down, this is not a 10k." The weather was perfect and we felt great; with the specter of the dreaded "wall" looming large in my mind, though, I watched our splits carefully and made sure we were conserving our energy.

Trickiest part of running such a crowded race: While my sister and I had already agreed on a strategy to navigate the crowds without losing each other (I would fall behind to follow her), the hardest part was finding our friends in the crowd. Even though we knew where to look, we missed our friend SR three times - although she saw us twice - and almost missed spotting my friend JB as we passed him in Williamsburg.

Best musical accompaniment: A three way tie between the Asian orchestra playing the graduation song, the Caribbean steel-drum band, and the junior high band that made up in enthusiasm what they utterly lacked in rhythmic or melodic coordination. Of course, it goes without saying that all of these were in Brooklyn - definitely the best spectators of the boroughs!

Only technically halfway: We ate our first goo at mile 10, and then hit the half-marathon mark in Queens, where I (proudly) hit my slowest time for a half, ever: 2:06, even slower than my first, very painful half-marathon in the Bronx last summer. Then we faced the Queensborough Bridge - long, uphill, cold and even dark as it was - chin down, just a little bit more wary of the challenge still to come. We slowed a little under the conditions, and for once I was actually weirded out by the mixed signals my body was giving out: I couldn't tell if I was just chilled or clammy, and I had a hard time gauging our pace. Fortunately, fellow Reservoir Dog Marnier caught up with us, and her company distracted me just long enough to spot the downhill and exit into Manhattan.

Lance wasn't the only one with a pacer!

Familiar territory: We rounded the bend to First Avenue and fell (not literally) into a wall of sound and a wash of sunlight that was instantly energizing. We stayed to the left side of the road, soaking up the atmosphere and dodging the occasional patch of banana peels. We missed SR (again) but spotted my college friend BS in the 80s and our fellow running canines, the Harriers.

Like horses to the stable: We hit mile 18, with just a mile to go before The Reservoir Dogs' table/cheering squad, and my sister said, "Just one mile till Mom and Dad;" and like that, we picked it up a little. Soon we were in shouting distance of the crimson-clad crowd (you guys are awesome!), and sure enough, my mother was waving a giant Mexican flag and my dad was ready with his camera. The moment was over almost more quickly than I could register it, but we did slow long enough to snag a drink and a second helping of goo.

Portable cheerleading: Like I did for AB's first marathon last year, Uptown Girl gathered her pom-pom and supply of cookies to accompany us for the next 7 miles. She did a great job trying to rally the crowds, efforts which at the very least served to distract us a little when the going started to get tough! We ran by my parents and some TRD friends again between miles 22-23, and by one of my sister's coworkers a short while later - and before I knew it, we were entering Central Park and the dreaded half-mile hill had passed.

Home stretch: The final miles of the marathon were tough but bearable; we slowed a bit but stayed there, and even though we decided against taking a final goo or cookie, we never hit the wall. I was, however, acutely aware of the movement of every single muscle fiber in my legs, and focused on Uptown Girls' excellent motivational jibberish - even my legs got their own pep talks! - to distract from the pressure I was feeling at the top of my right foot from the tongue of my shoe (who knew that, of all things, would hurt?!). We hit the Central Park South stretch and I found myself simultaneously wishing it were over and not wanting the experience to end.

So, the last half-mile was at once the longest and shortest of my life. I felt weirdly elated but also like I was about to cry (not out of pain, but for some reason I was just feeling really emotional). I was tired but I still felt better than I thought I would, and I started to smile as soon as I saw the finish line. My sister and I aimed for the middle, held our hands up and together, and crossed at 4:17:25. We hugged and gave each other our medals (aww, cute!) and promptly began the long, cold and suddenly very painful waddle through the finish corral and out to meet the support crew on Columbus Avenue.

Post-race, we all piled into our very small apartment to recap the day's experiences, enjoy some chicken fingers and our very own personalized cookie cake, and soak our feet in ice water (yeeeooowww!). I have no idea how people manage to make it back out to celebrate after the marathon, because I was wiped out - but it was a wonderful, tremendous experience and I am so lucky to have been able to share it with my sister. Since I wasn't aiming for any particular goal other than to finish in one piece, I'm pleased with my time and our freakishly even splits:

5k / 0:30:45
10k / 0:59:33
15k / 1:29:11
20k / 1:59:24
1/2 marathon / 2:06:12
25k / 2:30:01
30k / 2:59:48
35k / 3:31:16
40k / 4:03:28

And more importantly, I can't wait to do another one next year!

Climbing the walls

2006-11-02T23:25:00.000-05:00

What my tapering week has looked like:

Saturday: Dashed off to Philly on a whim to catch the John Legend concert with a college friend. Absolutely, un-freaking-believable, amazing. Legend has a voice that could melt stone, and his latest album, rife with Mo-Town, Hendrix and soul influences, is totally addictive. But in the hour+ it took for him to come onstage after the Robin Thicke opener, all I was thinking was: My legs are getting tired. I'm glad I'm not at the NYC concert (which was on Monday and sold out) 'cause that's awfully close to the marathon. Are my hamstrings tight? I wish I could have a glass of wine. I really should be sitting down...

Sunday: Last 8+ mile run along the Schuykill River. The wind was ridiculous - it literally blew me backwards on more than one occasion - but it was sunny and sparkling, and lovely.

Monday, Tuesday: Is the guy behind me on the subway sneezing in my direction? Why are my hamstrings tight? Coworker: 'Does anyone have any Halls?' Me: 'Are you sick? Get away from me!' Coworker: 'No, my throat hurts cause I smoked too much.' Me: 'Well, stay away from me just in case...'

Wednesday: Last run, a 3+ mile amble around the reservoir at a snail's pace.

Thursday: Accidentally skipped about two or three steps down into the subway because I was too busy picking a song on my iPod to actually watch where I was going. Yikes! Did I roll my ankle? (No.) Ack, my hamstring. Wait, I'm not sure if it really feels any different... then EXPO! The technical race tees are really nice - what luck! And I scored a pricey Hind running jacket at half off. Oh, and the parentals are in town so that means lots of free food!

My poor coworkers, they thought I was kidding when I warned them I was going to go stir-crazy this week...

Ready?

2006-10-15T19:28:00.000-04:00

I realized the other day that in my blogger slackdom, I've kept hardly any record of what it's been like to train for my very first marathon. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea why that is. Training has gone well and thankfully injury-free, the companionship and support of my sister, a fellow first-timer, has been wonderful, and by the looks of it my friends and coworkers are almost more excited about race day than I am. (Almost.)

Today was a picture-perfect day for my sister and I to set out on our final 20+ miler (technically our second, but really closer to third since our 16-18 miler was probably closer to 19). The sky was clear, the air was crisp and we were well-fed and rested. We wandered across the park and up the Hudson River Greenway all the way up past the Cloisters, turned around and came back down, then up again a little before finishing where we started at Engineer's Gate. While my total weekly mileage has been a little shy of what I thought it would be, I've been feeling pretty strong and today was no exception.

Today, I felt ready for the marathon. I understood why the long training build-up is important, because I felt ten thousand times better by the end today than I did a few weeks ago, and ten million times better than I did on the first one (a bridges run across the East River where each pause at a traffic light made me want to cry over the pain in my joints). Today, I was glad I spent the better part of the day preparing for, running, or recovering from the run. Today, I became certain that I can achieve my dream of beating Lance Armstrong (ha, just kidding!).

Then I met some guy in the park who has run in 12- and 98-degree weather over the course of 100+ marathons, and I thought - well, maybe I do still have a lot to learn :-)

Feel-good consumerism

2006-10-13T15:08:00.000-04:00

Today Gap launched its line of PRODUCT (RED), the commercial + cause-related brainchild of Bono and Bobby Shriver that convinced select companies to issue products with the promise that a portion of the proceeds would support the work of the Global Fund to Fight AIDS in Africa.

How is this different than all the other feel-good, cause-related stuff already out there? (Is anyone else a little skeptical of the various pink accoutrements that flood the shelves this time each year?) The premise is that this isn’t charity, but rather a sustainable business model by which companies manufacture products in a socially-conscious manner, and sell them at a price that allows for both profit and a meaningful contribution to the cause. Broadly speaking, the idea works: all other things – price, quality – being comparable if not equal, people will generally buy the item that makes them feel good about themselves.

I checked out the goods at the Gap store around the corner, and here’s what I think: The cotton items feel great – they’re soft, the tees are casual but stylish in a shredded, pretending-like-you-don’t-care-what-you-look-like kind of way. I can imagine layering them or wearing them alone, and the colors pop even though they’re pretty basic (blue, white, black, olive green and of course red). The lettered stuff is both lofty and cheeky; it makes a statement but it’s not preachy.

However, the store’s selection was heavy on the cotton sweatshirt hoodies, and I missed some of the more tailored alternatives available on the website, like the sweaters or the denim jacket Also, the price point on the jeans ($150 for women, $198 for men) is absurd at a store like Gap. Finally, considering the heavy media blitz on the launch, they should really be branding the shopping bags, too – especially in a city like New York. I'm also a little anxious because the numbers are showing that not very many people are shopping at Gap these days (although maybe this is the jumpstart they need).

Overall though, I think it’s a great idea and hope others will follow, especially at these kinds of retailers. After all, high-end consumers like those wearing Edun or buying organic may set the trends, but you won’t really make a difference unless you can make it accessible to the masses. I also think it’s hugely important that the effort be thoughtful and meaningful, and Bono has an edge in both those departments (the Global Fund is a great organization, and fully 50% of Gap's proceeds will go to it).

I, for one, am already sporting my white leather bracelet (it’s adjustable, a boon to the small-wristed among us) and I can’t wait to look INSPI(RED).

I am a quarter

2006-10-06T11:00:00.000-04:00

At midnight last night, I was standing on the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge under a cool, cloudless sky.

Happy birthday to me!

Playing in puddles

2006-10-02T23:00:00.000-04:00

So since I've been slacking off on the blogosphere yet again, I'm going to try my hand at breaking up the mega-update into more manageable (and procrastination-friendly) segments. After all, I've been back from vacation for a month now and I'm just about out of excuses...!

The weekend began again on Friday, when my office packed up and headed out to Belmont Park for the races. (I do actually work most days, but you wouldn't know it from the past two posts, would you?) We arrived at noon and began drinking not long after; between that, three pieces of cake, and general carousing, I was more than entertained between bouts of, um, not betting. Actually, I did bet, and came out on top thanks to my top-secret, highly scientific method of picking the horses with the most perverse names. So, while Bitter Lemon cost me $5, Crankypants came through and landed me with $13.50. Pretty good odds, no?

Saturday dawned bright and early for the TRD group run and the ensuing mad dash to catch the first wave of the 5th Avenue Mile. I did this last year for the first time and would love to do it again, with the right training, sometime -- but not in the middle of marathon season. So I cheered from the sidelines instead (minus the pom poms, unfortunately) and basked in the lovely early autum sunshine.

(Let's play a game: Can you spot the photo-shop?)

That night, Pink Monkey and I went in for the third play of the season at the Signature Theatre. It was the first of the three August Wilson plays that were the whole reason I became a subscriber this year, so I was really looking forward to it. The play, Seven Guitars, takes place in 1948 Pittsburgh and is a part of Wilson's 10-play cycle tracing generations of African Americans in the Hill District neighborhood. It was not as sweepingly dramatic as last year's Broadway production of Gem of the Ocean -- but that's not a bad thing. The director and the cast did a wonderful job of melding the weight of history that frames every play in the cycle with a very real, very poignant warmth and humanity among its characters. As the NYT critics put it:

"[It is] built less as a rushing narrative than an artful arrangement of relationships in conflict, almost any of which could abruptly explode or defuse...

"The marvel of Seven Guitars, which is always true of Wilson at his best, is how large a social portrait emerges from seeming small talk: from bickering, joking, gossiping and idle scheming. From such conversation emerges a sense of an entire economic and legal system, stacked unwinnably against the black man; a social structure in which home and relationships are rarely fixed; and a folklore of rhymes and superstitions and recipes that acquire another layer every time they are repeated."

I laughed when they laughed, sang right along with them, and held my breath just when they did. Really, really wonderful stuff. If the quality of the four shows I've seen here this season (three plays and one reading) is any indication - and I suspect that it is - I can't wait for the next ones.

Then it was off to bed to anticipate the dawning of a wet, soggy mess of a Sunday morning for Grete's Gallop. Unfortunately for some of my Grete's novice friends, I had so raved about last year's race day that expectations were already quite high long before Mother Nature pulled a total 180! The morning started off like an episode of Mr. Bean, when the Pink Monkey and I stood on the wrong corner for 10 minutes waiting for Uptown Girl and AB before realizing that a) we were going to be late if we didn't leave soon and b) we had forgotten to bring along their chips and race numbers! So off we dashed in opposite directions: my sister home to get the chips, and me to the start to catch up with the rest of the group waiting at the 8min/mile markers. It was raining lightly but steadily, and we would have been fine on time -- except that we thought the race started on the west side! We each finally arrived at the starting corral just as the skies really opened up, prompting a mad dash to attach chips and numbers while the clock was already ticking...

Fortunately, having raced the Philly Distance Run two short weeks ago (where I fought for every second of my 1:42:36 PR - as you can see from this shot of me and my rather freakish-looking quads just before the finish), none of us were racing on this particular soggy Sunday. So, certain that the worst had passed, we laughed and splashed our way through puddles, dodging runners and slippery piles of horse poo before settling into a comfortable 8:40-45/mile pace. It wasn't long before we picked up some friends - some expected, who joined us for the second loop, and some new, who joined our impromptu pace group. Water-logged shoes aside, the miles sped by and I had a blast, which was exactly what I set out to do for that 1:54:27.

On the agenda for this week: rehearsal (yes, I joined a choir! more about that later), a reception with the former U.S. Ambassador to South Korea, and on Friday another birthday weekend begins...

“One day you be walking along, and the music jump on you. It just grab hold of you and hang on.”
- Floyd 'Schoolboy' Barton, "Seven Guitars"

Who said August is a slow month?

2006-08-20T22:37:00.000-04:00

First off, I must apologize for slacking off on the blogosphere these days. I took on a new project at work (a human rights advocacy campaign) and it's had me doing a lot of very intense, politically- and emotionally-weighty writing that pretty much sapped any desire I had to write about things like running or what I did last weekend.

That having been said, I will now proceed to write an entirely fluffy blog entry about ... running and what I did last weekend, and why August is shaping up to be, like, the best. month. EVER.

The previous weekend started on Friday when one of my firm's founding partners invited my group (9 of us) up to his gorgeous Westchester home overlooking the Hudson Valley. (Think I can bill those 8 hours as "played hooky at partner's behest"?) I got to ride in his convertible and play with his dog, and we ate breakfast and lunch outside, took a long walk through Rockefeller Estates, and sipped wine from 2pm into the early evening when some of us ended up at the Frying Pan for even more outdoor carousing.

On Saturday the post-group run loitering / brunch lasted well into lunchtime, after which I took off on one of my famous city "hikes." I sidewalk-shopped in Soho and the West Village. I read and dozed by the Hudson. I sat and listened to some random old men sing and play the guitar in Washington Square Park. Over four hours after I started, I finally ended up in the East Village to meet a friend for dinner and capped the night with drinks in Alphabet City. By Sunday afternoon I was back in Greenwich Village, smelly and starved from a 14-miler that led a group of us through the park and down the West Side. As we sat and enjoyed our turkey burgers on a sidewalk patio, I thought, does it get any better than this?

Actually, it does. On Monday I had a great date at the Bryant Park movie screening. On Wednesday, my sister and I went to see the Tallis Scholars at Rose Hall. Part of the annual Mostly Mozart Festival (even though they didn't actually perform any Mozart), it was like hearing angels sing -- especially the Hassler "O Sacrum Convivium," for which the singers were staggered onstage and throughout the hall. Celebrated Uptown Girl's imminent AARP induction (ha!) at the Boat Basin on Thursday. Friday, had dinner al fresco at the Mexican consular residence with some old family friends and debated Argentina's national debt and whether or not lawyers should make as much money as bankers.

(Phew! Ok, I'm caught up now. On to what most of y'all are probably really waiting to read about.)

Saturday dawned clear and bright for my favorite race of the year, the Club Championships. I showed up a little before the men's start to see them off. Of course, the lead men never fail to surprise me -- they began rounding the bend just as I was gathering my pom-poms! It turned into blogger central as I ran into NYFlygirl, cheered in Moz and the rest of my teammates, and then hustled off to warm up, where I briefly met Chelle (I also met Josh after the race). Strangely, I wasn't as antsy at the start of this race as I usually am. It may just be that it's been three months since I've really raced, or that I had a goal time in mind but wasn't sure how hard I'd be able to push to get it.

In any case, the gun went off and I quickly rediscovered my mojo. :-) With a little dodging as usual, I started off well and hit the first two miles in the low 6:50s. It was hotter than I had originally thought though, and sticky; I was tempted to stop at every water station but decided to save those seconds instead and just ran it straight through. (Note to self: next time I'll just recruit someone to spray me with a hose.) Mile three slowed a little and though I managed to pass some people going up Cat Hill, the ascent was tough enough to even make me a little woozy when I got to the top. I would have cursed the cat, but it took all my focus just to keep going.

Fortunately (and this is what I love about this race), the final mile brought a lot of badly-needed support. I was surprised when my teammate ST passed me here; she and I often do speedwork together but she hasn't been out regularly, so I had expected her to pass me early on or not at all. She cheered (as much as one can cheer in mile 5) me on and I was tempted to see if I could stick with her -- and I think under slightly different circumstances I could have, but I just wasn't relaxed enough to spare the effort.

Nonetheless, the wall of cheers and support from fellow Dogs, Harriers and other teams reeled me in under 7s again to a 35.13 finish -- just 13 seconds over my goal time and a PR by over 1-1/2 minutes. According to McMillan it's consistent with my 10k and 10-mile times so I'm happy with it. In the long term, it still leaves me the goal of closing the gap between these and my shorter race times, but for now I've got other things on my mind...

Of course, the weekend didn't end there. With a little relay and long-awaited Pacific Northwest vacation coming up, I had to squeeze in as much NYC summer fun as possible! That afternoon I finally did what I've been talking about for nearly 2 years: I went to Warm-Up at P.S.1 in Queens. When my friends and I got there the crowds were still a little sparse, but it wasn't long before the party really started. An hour and two beers later, we made our way to the dance floor and all I could think was, how did it take me 2 years to get here?! It was without a doubt some of the most fun I've ever had in the city. It started to drizzle and no one cared -- everyone was just really happy enjoying the fabulous music. We were out on the floor for a good 2 hours before I headed back into the city to meet some other friends for drinks, where the day finally caught up with me and I nearly fell asleep at the bar from sheer exhaustion (guess I'm not SuperWoman after all!)

Today I dragged my very, very sore self (abs, quads, neck, hamstrings -- if you can name it, it ached) out for an easy 11-miler on the bridle paths. A much-needed turkey burger later, I went in for round two of Mostly Mozart, this time with Uptown Girl. Joshua Bell and his fellow musicians turned in a phenomenal performance of Mozart, Mendelssohn, and the New York premiere (just days after its San Francisco world premiere) of a new Edgar Meyer piece. I have to say that the more I hear contemporary classical music, the more I really, really like it -- this may well be my next cultural exploration project.

On the agenda for this week: Monday, dinner with some work folks, Tuesday, Metropolitan Opera (yaay Verdi!) in Central Park. Wednesday: Oregon, here we come!

Promise it's not just 'cause I don't like baseball

2006-07-31T18:12:00.000-04:00

But the strongest response you'll get from me following this weekend's Mets Run to Home Plate would be a shrug, and maybe an eye-roll.

I signed up for this race a while back with the expectation that I would have sufficiently recovered from my shin splints, and adjusted to my orthotics, to run it well. I really like these shorter distances, and was kind of hoping for a shot at breaking my 5k PR, which I set on a much hillier course and in a pretty unevenly run race.

Unfortunately, Mr. Met and the fates had other ideas. Either that, or it was karma come back to haunt me after all the whining I've done about my crappy placement at a non-profit in Flushing last year (where I spent every commute that month cursing Shea Stadium as I passed).

In any case, the day dawned a sweltering 80+ degrees, set to peak in the 90s, and the race didn't even start until 10 am. Whose idea was that? With no shade before the race except for the foot-wide shadow of the construction fence that lined the parking lot, I was already dripping before I even lined up to start. I thought back to the two (count-'em) speedworkouts I've done in the past 2+ months, forward to the more important race this month, and quickly decided that today would not be that day.

So, off I went, and boy was I glad to have made that choice before the race made it for me. Had I gone all out (or tried to), it probably would have felt a lot like the Corporate Challenge. Call me crazy, but I just wasn't in the mood to feel woozy enough to fall over! Also, I don't know whether it was the course, the field of runners, or the fact that I started a little farther back in the 6-min section than I usually do, but I thought the crowds took a lot longer to thin out than usual. So, it was a good thing I wasn't so anxious to push through. As is my wont in races 10k and under, I didn't stop for water, although I do wish I had scooted a little closer to the line of fire of a volunteer's garden hose! Uptown Girl passed me somewhere around mile 1 and waved, and AB and I spent the better part of the race trading places before she took the lead into Shea Stadium.

I cruised into Shea at a good tempo pace, and scored a TRD shout-out from the announcer before crossing the finish line at 22:24. It wasn't really a memorable race by any standards (running 3 miles in a parking lot + 0.1 around the bases), but all things considered, it wasn't terrible either. My decision to tempo-run it may even have been somewhat fortuitous, considering that the heat wave that's set to barrel into the city tomorrow and Wednesday will almost certainly keep me from pushing hard in this week's speed workout.

And Mr. Met? Nowhere to be seen. But I did high-five the big Subway Sandwich-man.

Abnormal, lucky -- or both?

2006-07-27T13:42:00.000-04:00

Last Sunday’s inaugural marathon-training run brought along with it a few surprises.

My sister and I set out in the cool Sunday morning air for a 10-mile jaunt around the bridle paths. By the last mile I was pretty tired, which was to be expected since I hadn’t really run over 7 in at least two months. (That I had gotten only 3 or 4 hours of sleep on two previous nights probably didn’t help either.) I also wasn’t so surprised when I got home and found that the nascent calluses on my arches had gone back to being big fat blisters, and that these had, um, not withstood over an hour of pounding.

So, off I went with the Neosporin and bandages. As I dressed for work on Monday, I decided to forgo the usual summer wardrobe of skirts, skirts, and more skirts and pull on a pair of jeans in the hopes they’d at least partially cover the sight of medical tape wrapped around my feet. When I got to work, though, it occurred to me that my jeans were sitting a lot lower than they usually do. How strange, I thought, annoyed that I had to spend the rest of the day worrying about a sneaky midriff gap (dress may be casual here, but it’s not that casual).

That night, my sister and I stopped by Uptown Girl’s apt, who, in addition to being a good friend, is very useful because she is so willing to lend us all kinds of grown-up things (like blenders and cookie sheets) that we can’t fit in our teeny apt. So, I decided to avail myself of something else I don’t own: a bathroom scale.

I had a moment of déjà vu, and it went a little like this: Oh, crap.

Now, I rarely know exactly how much I weigh, but I have a pretty good idea of the usual range – and this wasn’t it. I had a similar experience last summer, which I attributed to a change in eating patterns (I was unemployed and home a lot, and combined with the heat it made for a lot of snacking but not a lot of full meals) and trying my hand at longer races for the first time. I’m probably the only person on the planet to say this, but it freaked me out. Nature (high metabolism) + Habit (I have always preferred healthy food) = Not a whole lot there to lose.

I did gain the weight back at some point last year, which makes it a lot less worrisome this time around – but it didn’t lessen the initial surprise. And I know that many people should be so lucky. And for all I know, it could actually help my racing. But for me, it's still a little unsettling.

In any case, it’s not so bad that I’m going to make a concerted effort to make it up, and I'm certainly not in any danger of disappearing altogether. But I do need to be more careful with my nutrient intake now that marathon training’s started. I don’t want to have put so much effort into my training, only to undermine my performance because I was too lazy to fix myself a decent dinner.

For shame

2006-07-20T11:01:00.000-04:00

The UN is reporting last month’s death toll in Iraq at more than 100 civilians per day.

Too bad GWB was too busy staging photo-ops for empty gestures to notice. (The much-lauded stem cell veto is actually a veto of an attempt to overturn the law he passed earlier in the first term. I’m glad Congress was so willing to exercise the important job of running around in a circle.)

Protecting human life? For shame, Mr. President. The blood of tens of thousands of innocent Iraqis and thousands of courageous American soldiers is on your hands.

Are we there yet?

2006-07-17T23:11:00.000-04:00

It's hot.

Really, really, freaking hot.

So, in honor of this weather -- which makes me wonder how I ever came to love running, given that my first cross-country practices were on Houston streets at 2pm in August -- I'm going to share with you some of the finer points of what my training has been like:

Tonight, it was so hot that I was barely through my second loop of the reservoir, at a measly 9+ min pace, before I turned to my sister and whined, "Can we go home when we're done with this one?" It was after 9pm and the heat index was still 92.

After spending the July 4th holiday weekend in Texas telling the 'rents and their friends all about our plans to run NYC, my sister and I looked at our training schedule (which begins now) and went, "Oh, crap. Why are we doing this again?" That was before I realized that I'm supposed to run a 20-miler on my birthday weekend.

Not only is our podiatrist now $1000 richer, my sister and I have matching orthotics-induced blisters on our feet. A big one the size of two quarters on our left foot, and a (slightly) smaller one on our right. Fortunately for you, she is much more eager to show them off than I am. Isn't that cute?

And the kicker, of course, is being able to douse my head in the water fountain mid-run without actually looking any different. But there is good news: I discovered a newly renovated playground on my way home from the park, and there's an 8-spray fountain that is just begging to be splashed around in. So if you see one really, really big kid among all the 5-year-olds, just smile, wave, and come on over.

OK, I give in

2006-07-06T23:56:00.000-04:00

Lacking anything of interest to say at the moment (or at least the motivation to write it down, unless you really want to hear my treatise on the Mexican presidential election), I'll submit to the game of tag:

4 Jobs I've Had

PR + public affairs consultant
graduate fellow in public affairs
restaurant hostess
intern extraordinaire, at a major human rights / democracy nonprofit

4 Movies I Watch Over and Over

Forrest Gump
Finding Nemo
The American President
ummm... I like movies, but I actually very rarely watch one over and over. mostly because i gravitate to the intense ones, and they're hard to watch more than once.

4 Places I Have Lived

Manhattan
Atlanta
Houston
Mexico City

4 Television Shows I Watch

24
Grey's Anatomy
various sitcom reruns, mostly to kill time. not a whole lot of TV shows I actually set aside time for

4 Places I Have Been On Vacation
only four?! i've been through more passports than that...

Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, Peru
Atacama Desert, Chile
Havana, Cuba
Munich, Germany

4 Websites I Visit Every Day

NYTimes
Huffington Post
The Reservoir Dogs
any one of a number of news outlets or blogs that, for any number of reasons, have captured my attention for a short period of time. getting paid to keep my finger in every pot is actually one of the best parts of my job :-)

4 Favorite Foods

real, authentic Mexican food like my Abuela used to make
caprese salads
grapes
cookies, the squishier the better

4 Places I'd Rather Be Right Now
again, only 4?!

outside, in the sun
in a medieval cathedral, listening to a chamber choir or a string quartet
if i were to be specific, this list would be really, really, really long

4 Favorite Bands/Musicians

U2
W.A. Mozart (composers count, right?)
Ella Fitzgerald
Third Eye Blind (I know no one cares about them anymore, but I really liked their later work. and Stephan Jenkins did sing to me once)

4 Bloggers I'll Tag
nope, not gonna do it... i'm designating myself the blog-chain-breaker. enjoy your guilt-free blog spam :-)

Crazy runner people pictures

2006-07-05T18:15:00.000-04:00

As promised, my corporate challenge team in all its glory.

As a colleague and teammate [who just left the agency to teach political campaigning in Iraq] so eloquently put it in her goodbye e-mail to the company: "[Last Thursday] a bunch of us hit the Central Park road – our t-shirts made no sense to anyone and didn’t look a thing like the other crap at the Corporate Challenge. For the 1000th moment that week I was proud to be a part of __. (That shirt is going to Baghdad, baby!)"

Where were you when...

2006-06-26T22:09:00.000-04:00

Ok, so it's not quite the landing on the moon or the fall of the Berlin Wall... or is it?

Today, Warren Buffett handed the vast majority of his over $40 billion fortune over to the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation.

And I was there.

In the years since their foundation was created, the Gateses have already fundamentally and historically transformed the way philanthropists participate in the social good. Now the second-richest man on the planet, and arguably one of the most brilliant investors ever, has publicly declared his faith in their model of venture philanthropy to the tune of well over $30 billion.

That's $1.5 billion more, per year, to save the US public education system. $1.5 billion more, per year, to save the millions worldwide who still die of diseases we have known how to fight for decades.

And did I mention that I got to be there?

[The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation is a client, and my company organized the super-duper uber-top-secret event. If you look closely enough at the press conference footage, you might even see us trying desperately to keep the photographers from climbing into the benefactors' laps while they were speaking.]

I don't think my feet will touch the ground all week...

One of those crazy runner people

2006-06-24T13:08:00.000-04:00

When I started my job last September, I came into the office for three days and then left for two to run the Reach the Beach Relay. Ever since then, my boss has jokingly referred to me as "one of those crazy runner people," so it was only fair that I took on the role of team captain when time came to register for the 3.5-mi JPMC Corporate Challenge.

Thursday dawned even hotter and stickier than the day before, dampening my enthusiasm at wearing the team shirts our creatives had designed just days before. With 10 of us on the team, we each wore a letter that together spelled out aSS+Kickers (I was the second "k"), which didn't make us eligible for the T-shirt contest (because each shirt was different) but we thought was appropriate. :-)

We dropped our stuff off at a coworker's parents' apartment and jogged into the crowds, where the other K and I scouted out the elite start. A very short warm-up later and long before the starting speeches had even begun, I was already drenched in sweat, which didn't bode well. Uptown Girl joined me at the front, and soon we were off!

Between the temperature (88 degrees at 7pm), humidity and the fact that my shin splints have kept me off the roads and away from speed workouts for well over a month, I was looking to run this race pretty conservatively. I kept to barely under 7s for the first two miles before the heat and the sneaky uphill on the east side really started to take their toll. I've never felt comfortable running in just a sports bra, but it was so hot that I would have ditched the orange shirt this time would it not have made it impossible for a cheering coworker to see me.

By the second half of mile 3, I had caught up to my fellow K again, and we suffered together for a while. I have run some pretty tough races, but never have I been more tempted to just walk into the finish -- it was that miserable. I ran by some friendly club cheerleaders (sorry I didn't turn around ladies, it was all I could to to keep running in a straight line!) who provided some badly needed support. Finally, as we approached the 72nd street turn into the finish, K pushed ahead again but I just didn't have it in me to catch him. I dragged myself in at 24:53, a respectable 7:06 pace given the conditions but certainly nowhere near what I'm capable of. It was, however, less than 30 sec off the "goal" time I had set for myself, so I'm ok with it.

As K and I walked out the finish chute and discussed our collective misery, I was still reeling from the effort -- quite literally, as I almost had to grab onto him to keep from falling over! I cooled off a little as I waited around for the rest of my teammates to come through, and I have to say I'm very proud of our effort: all but one came in well under 10-min miles, reaffirming our right to wear the team moniker. ;-) Also big congrats to the Harriers, one of whom won the women's race that night!

But now I'm off to obsess over a different kind of running, one that involves chasing after a ball. Hurra Deutschland, 2-0 vs. Sweden! And more importantly...

VIVA MEXICO!! Sí se puede!!

Doodle bug or roly-poly?

2006-06-20T10:10:00.000-04:00

Now that the weather in the city has me feeling (almost) like I'm back in Texas...

Heard about this little dialect test on NPR this morning. I don't usually go in for these, but this one was developed by a linguistics Ph.D. and is actually pretty specific and accurate.

Of course, besides the fact that I still say "y'all," who'd-a-thunk I was 70% Dixie?

Ay, México lindo

2006-06-16T17:38:00.000-04:00

Cómo me hacen sufrir!

What the second game, versus Angola, was like (courtesy of NYT):

"Wooo! I’m emotionally drained! Truth be told, it wasn’t that great of a match, but it was very dramatic. And Angola’s performance was full of poise and guts, and Mexico played admirably also. In the end, Joao Ricardo was terrific in the Impalas’ goal, one of the three or four best goaltending jobs of the tournament so far."

Here's a great place to watch the live play-by-play of each game, for those among us who can only get away from our desks for some of the games. Click on the "scoreboard" of the game that's on. It updates automatically... very addictive!

Update: El Universal, one of the major newspapers in Mexico, has an even better Minuto x Minuto feature. It requires more mastery of Spanish, but the incidence of expressions that involve long strings of vowels is higher :-)

I do believe I see two faces

2006-06-14T12:16:00.000-04:00

It's enough to turn even the biggest optimist into a full-fledged conspiracy theorist... and that's all I'm going to say.

AP reports:

WASHINGTON - The decision not to charge Karl Rove shows there often are no consequences for misleading the public.
In 2003, while Rove allowed the White House to tell the news media that he had no role in leaking Valerie Plame's CIA identity, the presidential aide was secretly telling the FBI the truth...
Rove's truth-telling to the FBI saved him from indictment.
And by misleading reporters, the White House saved itself from a political liability during the 2004 presidential campaign.

In other news: what was that about freedom of the press? Oh, nevermind.

In search of...

2006-06-02T00:06:00.000-04:00

I just watched the final hour of last week's five-plus hour farewell tribute to Joseph Volpe, general manager at the Metropolitan Opera. For a few minutes, I kicked myself for letting the past season slip by without seeing a performance (even if I have enjoyed the theater I've seen instead).

And then it struck me -- really, deeply struck me -- how much I miss performing. I miss the lessons, the silly vocal exercises and endless repetition, the nervous apprehension before the curtain call. I miss scribbling notes to myself in my score, and the satisfaction of getting those notes right when no one is around to hear it but me. I miss the breathing, the sound and the emotion. I miss the stage and the spotlit illusion of being alone in a room of 2000 people.

I miss my music. So I'm going to go find it.

Can't be too careful

2006-05-29T19:06:00.000-04:00

As it turns out, my fears of following the latest injury trends among my fellow runners were well-founded. Fortunately, the fact that I went in to see the podiatrist very early on saved me a lot of pain, and probably even a stress fracture, further on down the line. After quite a bit of very painful poking and prodding, he said I have shin splints. Of course "shin splints" is not a real medical diagnosis per se, but it's the best way to describe what happens when my foot falls inward, misaligning my lower leg and putting stress on the inside of my tibia.

So while he gave my choice of stability shoes the ok, I'm due for a set of orthotics (cue an "ouch!" from my wallet) and a couple rounds of physical therapy. I also have permission to keep running, but I'll be taking it easy and will be sticking exclusively to the bridle path for the next several weeks until the discomfort subsides.

I'm annoyed and frustrated, certainly, but also relieved; this doctor has treated many elite marathoners and he couldn't stress enough how important it was that I went in early. Not only will I (hopefully) be avoiding worse injury, but it's far enough out from the start of marathon training that it won't put a crimp in those plans. For now, I'll have to postpone my hopes of personal redemption, and of leading a strong team of TRD women, at the Mini10k and be happy just to be the one holding the pom-poms. But look out for me at the JPMC Corporate Challenge, where my company and I intend to kick some serious butt in the T-shirt contest (and the race too).

My kidneys are speedy

2006-05-20T15:34:00.000-04:00

This morning dawned a cool mid-50s, mixed sky, which was perfect for racing. Since whatever grouchiness my leg is having seems to go away once I get moving, I made plenty of time to warm up before the start and squeezed my way into the front with 15 minutes to go before the race. I saw several Dogs, some Harriers, and even the lighthouse-man/runner before the race.

Fortunately, the thought of running with so many world-class athletes temporarily distracted me from my usual pre-race jitters. We really are fortunate to compete alongside them (at least relatively, because I don't think I could run a sub-5 mile if I were on wheels). I do have to say, though, that while I admire her, Mary Wittenberg's speeches tend to make me cringe; instead of inspiring us, her claim that the elites would be cheering the rest of us in simply elicited a titter of laughter at the front of the pack.

All that was soon forgotten, though, as the first mile began in its usual madhouse way. In spite of the crowded start, the first three miles rolled by smoothly and just under or at my target pace (6.55, 6.51, 6.59). I waved to the pom-pom brigade and was passed by a couple of my male teammates around mile 2. I pushed up the Harlem hills without too much trouble, but at 7:17 mile 4 was a bear, all the more so because it's so sneaky.

At the bottom of the reservoir, the pom-pom squad multiplied and reappeared just in time to give me a little extra kick. I had been trailing about 20 meters behind Anil, a Harrier, for a couple of minutes when I passed the bridge; when the cheerleaders switched from his name to mine, it seems he got a little kick too -- he started looking behind him and definitely sped up a little. With a good two miles left, though, I wasn't really inclined to catch him, so I let him go :)

While mile 5 was back on pace, I started to struggle in the second half of mile 6. The leg began to grumble just enough to make me aware of it; it didn't hurt, but I started to worry. Then, with only 800 meters left in the race, the side-stitches that plagued me in the Mini10k (aka "the race from hell") last year reappeared. I was so furious! I stopped for just a couple of seconds to try to breathe it out before thinking: screw this! I've come this far and it won't kill me to hurt for 800 meters. I slugged through the last bit with the encouragement of a few fellow runners, the announcers at the starting and finish lines who called out for TRD, and the cheering from Coach Sponge just before the finish.

All things considered, I was very happy with my time: 43:50, just over 2 minutes faster than my PR (which I ran in this race last year) and earning me a 29th place in my age group, 62nd among the women. Even with the slow miles, I came out on target overall, which makes me hopeful that I can bring it down another little bit for the Mini10k if I take care of this injury and if the weather cooperates.

Ants in pants

2006-05-18T23:30:00.000-04:00

I've eased off the mileage quite a bit for the past two weeks, but am still anxious about this weekend's race. The discomfort (it's not really pain) in my leg hasn't gone away, but it hasn't gotten any worse either. I talked to Uptown Girl's dad, a podiatrist and a marathoner extraordinaire, and it's probably a case of tendonitis. I have an appointment with a podiatrist in the city next week.

In the meantime, I bought not one, but two pairs of new shoes. I retired my very dirty Mizuno Elixirs for a fresh pair; while I love them (I went through 3 pairs of the Maverick, which they replaced), they're just not cushioned enough for longer training runs and they didn't make it very far past the 300-mile mark before calling it quits. So I'll be using those for speed workouts and races, and am trying out the Brooks Adrenaline GTS 6 (in a lovely - ahem - screaming shade of orange-red) for training runs. Hey, if I can't have a car, I might as well enjoy twice the new-running-shoe smell, no?

Pre-race rituals include a carbfest tomorrow night, and home-baked cookies for dinner and breakfast. And pom-poms out on the course (look for them around the 80s!). Here's to hoping at least one of these is the ticket...

24 going on 13

2006-05-15T23:30:00.000-04:00

Let it be stated for the record that if anyone should run across one of these, I would like one for my birthday:

(Then again, I did have one last year. But this time it would be nice if I got to keep him instead of just borrowing...)

Easy does it (or not)

2006-05-07T19:10:00.000-04:00

I set out this week to lay off a little bit on the running. The inside of my left shin (about 3 inches above the ankle) had been somewhat tender to the touch after runs, and although it wasn't bothering me at all while I was running, I decided I couldn't be too careful.

Then I got inexplicably dizzy and nearly passed out at dinner on Tuesday, and was still feeling some stomach grumblings on Wednesday, so I decided to drop back a pace group for the speed workout and play it by ear. As luck would have it, running actually made my stomach feel better (or maybe I was distracted by all the dodging of stray soccer balls and wandering adolescents on the Riverbank track). But my leg was still acting up -- even more so than before, in spite of not having run at all since Sunday -- and with all the talk of stress fractures among my fellow runners, I have been a little worried.

Then Saturday morning came, the easy group run on the bridle path took a quicker pace in the second half -- and my leg was fine! I iced it anyway when I got home, and after walking the 3 miles between my apt and MoMA, and standing in front of paintings for 3 hours, it was sore again... but when I tied on the ol' running shoes today and set out for an easy 7-8 miler, I felt so great that it became a spontaneous tempo run. I repeated the ice routine when I came home, and now the soreness is back.

So, in conclusion, I have no idea what's going on. Perhaps I should just run everywhere, all the time...

I'll buy you a drink

2006-05-05T10:09:00.000-04:00

... if you know what Cinco de Mayo actually celebrates. Bonus points if you know what it isn't, and consequently why it's not that big of a holiday in Mexico.

Then again, since the Irish get kissed on St. Paddy's, maybe I should get a prize today too.

Out of hibernation

2006-05-01T23:23:00.000-04:00

Heralded by the dusting off of the running shorts and the return of the ubiquitous flip-flop, springtime has emerged and brought with it the reemergence of everything I love about life in this city. (Ok, I must admit that I think it's still too early for flip flops, and frankly I'm pretty much over them in general, but that's beside the point.)

The last Thursday of the month, a Reservoir Dog staple, found new life in the form of a mixer (yeah, it was sorta like being in college again) with the NY Flyers and even a few Harriers, whose party-crashing was, as always, welcome. Although ResDogs outnumbered our typically more numerous Flyer friends by about 7 to 1, we made up for the difference in the sheer volume of chatter and even a little bit of twirling. (Did I say it was like college? I meant it was better!)

I finally met NY Flygirl and Derek face to face, challenged an Ironman to test his manly chops in a van full of girls (he hasn't taken me up on it yet), weighed the preferability of certain deviant behaviors (shh, I won't tell), and generally did my share of keeping the bartender quite busy. I had a head start on the evening in Greenwich Village, where I went to see my senior prom date and his friend play a guitar and piano set that was at once silly and musically sophisticated... all of which goes to show that this little bear cub is indeed done hibernating.

After Saturday's group run, my sister and I trekked to Brooklyn for the Cherry Blossom Festival. It was lovely! You could practically hear the petals falling in the breeze. That night we celebrated Molly's birthday as only the infamous duo can -- at a bbq on the back patio of a bar whose wood paneling, linoleum floor and mysteriously stained pool table double-dared you to call yourself a Manhattan-ite. By the end of the evening, even the gummy bears were celebrating.

And one lazy Sunday morning later, we dragged our lazy butts out of bed and ran 9 miles to peanut butter heaven. Mmmmmmmmm. Um, what was I talking about?

Ah, yes. Absolute perfection. I mean the weekend, of course.

Any grownups around?

2006-04-27T10:23:00.000-04:00

Today is "take your kids to work day" at the office. Right now we have about 20+ kids ages 18 months - 10 years running around asking my coworkers for answers to the questions on their treasure hunt. The scary thing is, that it's only marginally more noisy than it usually is around here. But I'm reserving judgement on the zoo for now. Ask me about it when it's over.

Money tree

2006-04-23T12:48:00.000-04:00

I read this article in the Times Thursday Style section, about the financial and other support that my generation is increasingly receiving from its parents after college, with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I think it's a fair assessment of the baby boomer generation of parents to say that they are more apt (whether out of generosity or anxiety) to support the pursuit of their kids' careers or dreams than their own parents were.

As someone whose parents continued to support her, after college, through a year-long graduate fellowship in New York, I am especially cognisant of the kind of assistance that starting a career in today's market requires. This is especially true in fields where an undergraduate degree alone is often simply no longer enough. I consider myself lucky not only that my parents recognize the importance of an extended education, but that they are able to make the necessary investment.

On the other hand, I felt that the article only glanced over some of the more troubling aspects of this so-called trend, conflating parental safety nets with the coddling of young adults who simply need to learn to live within their means. A budding musician in her late twenties does not need an extra four years of college when she can get a master's degree in two. A young professional making $30,000 can find perfectly decent living quarters for less than $1,100/month in rent (not a lot less in NY, I know, but certainly enough to allow him to pay his own phone bill).

I don't know about you, but I can think of several peers who, in spite of making enviable starter salaries in consulting, accounting, or what have you, still depend on their parents to subsidize their 600-sf studio apartment in a doorman building. A part of me thinks -- hey, if their parents can afford it, go ahead. But another part of me wonders: have they no pride, no sense of self-worth and accomplishment that goes along with being self-sufficient? And on a systemic scale, what does it say about us when a generation of 20-somethings thinks it is immediately entitled to the same living standards that their parents have worked 30+ years to achieve?

I feel so provincial

2006-04-16T23:41:00.000-04:00

Since my own family lives about 1600 miles away, I picked the easier option this holiday weekend and tagged along with Uptown Girl to her hometown in PA.

It was...

the inauguration of my second (non-consecutive) year as a pretend-Jew
Uptown Girl's inauguration as a pretend-Catholic
the most matzah anyone has ever eaten on a voluntary basis
time this life-long city girl explained to Uptown Girl that her home is not in the suburbs, it's in the country
the most fun anyone has ever had scrambling up a steep dirt hill in the latter half of an 8-mile run
the best nap ever, taken on a lawn chair at 3pm, with only the sound of a few birds and some neighboring tykes at play to lull me to sleep

I even managed to score some take-home fare, consisting of 1-1/2 boxes of matzah, a bag of matzah & raisin cookies, some fried matzah, a can of macaroons, matzah-ball soup and kosher sponge cake. Who knew being a pretend-Jew could be so tasty?

Buy! Buy! Buy!

2006-04-10T22:41:00.000-04:00

Once, when I was little, I saw a WonderBread commercial that featured a bunch of cool-looking, older [like, 8 year-old] kids jumping and dancing around, extolling the wonders of processed white bread. Realizing that all the bread in my house was brown, I turned to my mom and asked, "Why don't you buy WonderBread? Don't you want me to grow up to be big & strong?"

Rather than succeeding in guilt-tripping my mom, I got my first lesson in advertising and marketing.

Now I work for an agency that does advertising, among other things [I do one of those other things]. Because my accounts are often mixed with other disciplines, like advertising, I've become a lot more aware of that industry. And I've realized: there are an awful lot of car commercials on TV in this city. The fact that they're the car-hurtling-around-scenic-curves corporate/brand ones, and not the man-screaming-in-a-parking-lot dealership ones, makes them only marginally less boring and uncreative.

But there's one that I can't get enough of: one from the new "Gorgeous" series for the Jaguar XK. It's not just better than their previous, over-articulated and pompous "jah-gew-ahr" line. It's a whirwind of lavish shots, rich hues, and a tune so catchy, it's all I can do to stay in my seat just thinking about it. [The song is "I Turn My Camera On," by Spoon]

Like most TV commercials, it doesn't break the mold, but it's total eye candy. I'm putting it at the top of my very official list of kicka&$ song + commercial pairings, alongside the new Chemical Brothers stint for Budweiser Select [which almost makes me want to drink the stuff] and the Nick Drake song for the VW Cabrio a few years back.

We eat cherries for breakfast

2006-04-03T22:32:00.000-04:00

Whoever let a few 40mph wind gusts discourage them? Those were the conditions this time last year, when I happened to be in DC with my grad program and decided to run the 5k fun run associated with the Cherry Blossom 10-Mile Run.

Fortunately, the weather gods were much nicer for my first shot at the full race this year. We awoke to a crystal clear, 57-degree day on Sunday, choosing to walk to the start from the metro rather than take the shuttles. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and a few rosy petals fell as the breeze whispered through them. The sun was just rising and it was too early for the tourist mobs -- it was really lovely.

With 15 minutes to go before the start, my sister and I crammed into the front of the green corral (the first one behind the elite + seeded runners). Even so, it was probably the farthest back I've started in a while; and in a crowd of over 10,000 runners, made the first mile tricky to navigate. I tried jumping up onto the sidewalk a few times, but decided against it after a while as it would probably be only a matter of time before I fell or twisted something.

Never having raced a 10-miler before, but having taken the Brooklyn Half of two weeks ago as a fast training run, I had tentatively planned to run the first 5miles around 7:30 before bringing it down. With such a flat course, though, I hit the first mile at 7:18 and the second at 7:22, and the plan went out the window! It was a tough, but enjoyable race; with three turn-arounds, I had several chances to be inspired by the elite women and men as they sped by. My sister and I even managed to spot each other simultaneously at mile 6-7, which was the hardest stretch for both of us.

I worked hard throughout the race, and for the first time really felt like I was getting a handle on "racing" a longer distance. I successfully hit the end of the race with just enough energy to finish strong, but not significantly faster than my overall pace. I'm really happy with my time, 1:13:32, which was eerily right on Uptown Girl's prediction, and with my pacing, which made Coach Sponge very happy when I checked in with him after the race.

With so many races under my belt in the past two months, I'm also ready to give my body a rest! I'm officially on racing hiatus until the Healthy Kidney 10k in May, but you can count on seeing me and my pom-poms out by the race course next weekend.

Running for cherries

2006-03-30T23:34:00.000-05:00

Ready, set... DC here I come!!

Stay tuned for the post-race report :-)

boing!

2006-03-25T18:41:00.000-05:00

I got a haircut yesterday.

If you have curly hair, you'll know that this warrants a blog entry. It was the first time in my life that I've walked out of a salon and not had to run home and survey the damage, and then restyle it. I have even battled a stylist who once tried to use a curling iron (?!!?) the night of my junior prom (the hairdo died halfway through the evening, in spite of my sister's valiant attempt to rescue it before I left the house).

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only person on the planet with curly hair -- and since I'm obviously not, the next thought is usually, well where on earth do all the other curly-heads go?

Well, I found them at Devachan. And even though my mom nearly fell out of her chair when I told her how much it cost, it was worth every penny. My hair has never boing!-ed as happily as it does now.

No hot dogs today

2006-03-18T20:38:00.000-05:00

Until 7:15 this morning, I had never been to Coney Island. People eat hot dogs in Coney Island, don't they? They also ride roller coasters and lounge on the beach. I, on the other hand, finally made it down here only to gather with 3,999 other people and run 13.1 miles in the opposite direction. Figures.

The drive from the UES to Brooklyn passed almost without incident, until we turned off the highway and stopped at a light in front of an enormous school building. There against the wall, about 100 yards away and thus not immediately visible if not for his neon yellow jacket, was a runner who had inexplicably chosen to relieve himself in full view of the entire line of cars (presumably all runners) waiting to turn. Suffice it to say that he was, unfortunately, not relieving himself in the guys-have-it-so-easy way. Seeing him was like watching a cartoon car wreck -- the six of us in the car were simultaneously disgusted and hysterical with laughter.

Back to the race: Pressed for time for lack of parking spaces and the usual long port-a-potty line, the Pink Monkey, Uptown Girl, AB and I gathered at the start with just a few short minutes to spare before the gun. My goal today was not so much to set a new PR -- my previous half, while respectable, was very conservatively run -- as it was to tread the fine line between learning how to actually race these longer distances and holding something back for my real goal race, the DC Cherry Blossom 10-miler in two weeks. My mileage is still relatively low, so I leaned more towards the latter strategy.

The four of us took off together before separating into pairs as planned: Uptown Girl with her shadow, and yours truly with AB. I settled into a pace that fell into the 7:50-8ish zone relatively easily, striking out on my own by around mile 5. A mile or so later I stepped into a pothole and rolled my ankle, causing a brief, but intense moment of panic; I trod gingerly for the next several steps before reassuring myself that everything was, luckily, ok.

With the bulk of the race spent on a flat (if buckled) straightaway, I tested my own pacing abilities against those of my fellow runners, letting them "pull" me when appropriate and somehow managing to get pelted by gusting winds every time I decided to go it alone. It was cool but sunny, and I cruised comfortably through the first 9 miles. Once in Prospect Park, I had made it most of the way through the infamous 1.34-mile hill before I even knew what happened, and I began to plan my finish. At the 11-mi mark I broke away from my "pack" and kicked in a higher gear (7:25-7:33), passing a few less hardy souls on the way up a particularly cruel hill in the final mile. As I barreled (isn't that a pretty picture) into the chute, the announcer called out a Reservoir Dog finish, prompting me to raise both arms in a delightfully corny gesture that I really hope the photographers caught ;-)

All in all, I am proud of my time: 1:43:40, well below my previous time at not that much more of an effort. I'm excited and ready for DC. I'm also excited to go back to my forte, the 5k-10k races, for the months before I'm due to start training for the marathon (I registered today, woo-hoo!). I have it on good advice that, with the proper mileage, I could still shave quite a chunk off my half time... but I'm taking it one step (ba-dum) at a time and enjoying the ride.

You'll find my patriotism here

2006-03-17T16:02:00.001-05:00

I don't watch baseball.

I don't understand it, I think it's boring, and the one Braves game I went to during my last summer in Atlanta was more than enough to tide me over for the rest of my life.

But yesterday, Mexico beat the US in the inaugural World Baseball Classic.

WOO-HOO! VIVA MEXICO!!

I feel like an old lady

2006-03-13T23:03:00.000-05:00

Friday: ice skating (only 5th time in my life... but 3rd time this season!)

Saturday: 6-mi team social run, 10.3 miles on rollerblades (first time out since October, managed to nearly run over tourists only once), out dancing till 3 a.m.

Sunday: 8-mi final longish run (ha, won't that be a joke come marathon time) before the Brooklyn Half this weekend. The first 4 felt entirely too hard for the easy pace we were taking, but we warmed up in time to cruise through the second half.

There goes my entire mileage on an average week, all in one weekend. Today I popped some Advil and sat at my desk all day, and my very sore glutes are thanking me.

Brooklyn, here I come... and DC, you're next.

Starstruck

2006-03-10T09:52:00.000-05:00

I was standing outside a club in Chelsea last night, waiting for some friends, when I saw Al Franken come out of the adjacent building. Like a good New Yorker, I hardly reacted on the outside, only looking casually in his direction. Inside my head, I was jumping up and down and thinking, "Oooh! I saw Al Franken! I have to tell someone about this!"

And then I realized what a big nerd I am for getting that excited about a pundit-sighting.

Psychology of a runner

2006-03-05T17:19:00.000-05:00

It's not often that AB gushes over something. So when she does, you listen -- and you wake up at 7:15 on a Sunday morning, trek up to the 168th St. Armory, and run 3.1 miles for the sake of being accompanied by a friendly smattering of locals bearing bagpipes, drums, and pom-poms. And a pint of Guinness at the end.

The annual Coogan's Salsa, Blues & Shamrock 5k is, for many in the NY running community, an annual favorite for those very reasons. This morning a whole group of Dogs joined the 2700 other runners at the starting line of what is not just one of the few remaining NYRR 5k races, but also arguably the toughest. It's an out-and-back course over the very, very hilly streets of Washington Heights, with promises of local crowds to (hopefully) distract you from the fact that the sweet downhill you just coasted is going to be a real pain on the way back.

As we lined up, Uptown Girl laid out a challenge: If I could best my 5k PR, I would get a prize. Well, the last 5k I ran was also my first NYRR race just over a year ago, and at 7:17/mile looked to be a little too easy to beat. So she modified the stakes, promising riches & happiness* if I tackled the hills under 7's. I can do that, I thought; and before I knew it we were off.

*not really. actually i had no idea what the prize was, but who am i to pass up a challenge?

The start of the race was your usual mess in spite of the fact I was actually pretty close to the 5 min/mile markers. Over the past year I developed my own way of dodging the crowds, but that proved more difficult this time as the course was on the streets and put me at a significant risk of running smack into a parked car. (Umm, not so good.) I pushed my way through, though, and hit the 1 mile mark at 6:54; not so bad, I thought, but I've got some catching up to do. I had the benefit of a few downhills but the uphills were steep, and not knowing the course, I wasn't sure if pushing it a little harder would cost me the finish. I decided to focus on one of the Harriers ahead of me and closed in on him just as the first wave of runners, including El Prez, were making their way back from the turnaround.

The halfway point consisted of a handful of orange cones and a 360-degree turn that pushed me out to the edge of the course despite having nearly stopped to take it. The next two uphills, with only a short straightaway in between, were the toughest. I hit mile 2 just under 14 minutes and it hit me -- I WANT UPTOWN GIRL'S PRIZE, even if it kills me. There was a guy ahead of me in a green shirt and we spent the next mile duking it out, and before I knew it my last mile clocked in at a cool 6:20. When a tight group of about 4 runners passed me in the final 0.1 I thought better of it and kicked it in at 0:37. It was too late to pass them but I still sailed in at 20:58, setting a new team record and laying claim to 12th place in my age group, 26th for the women.

After the race everyone packed into Coogan's Pub to share war stories and lay out our scientific evaluations of who would win what at the Oscar's tonight. (I suggested that the more interesting question is who will wear the worst outfit, but no one else seemed to care.) Finally, as AB, Uptown Girl and I finished our brunch, I was presented with the prize for my pain and glory: a cookie. It doesn't take much, but it was enough.

Pain v. glory

2006-03-02T00:16:00.000-05:00

Tonight's speed workout was tough -- hardest workout of the season thus far -- but good. After kicking the Prospect Park hill's butt the other weekend it was nice to take a shot at the west side hills in Central Park. ST and I took on our usual job of making sure the front of the pack wasn't all boys; I chased her down the hill and she chased me back up. Now my legs are tired. But if I could catch my breath, you would still see me smiling.

It's too bad our favorite (ahem) newsmakers haven't gotten the memo about not all pain leading to glory, though. (Yes, I realize one thing has nothing to do with the other. As Uptown Girl and the Pink Monkey can attest from earlier in the evening, today I'm having trouble speaking in coherent sentences, let alone writing in them. And yet, continue I do.)

New York State is so far behind every single one of the other 49 states in implementing basic electoral reforms that it's being sued by the Justice Department. It's bad enough that the state has also ignored a court order to pay NYC over $9 billion for systemically and unconstitutionally underfunding the public education system. Apparently no one cares that economic activity in this city is the only thing keeping the state's total numbers in the black. Amazingly, Governor Pataki still thinks he can run for President. On what record? Oh wait, he's got that role model...

In another episode of the mind-boggling barrage of f*@%-ups that is the GWB administration, the Associated Press obtained footage of the President being fully and completely briefed on the impending humanitarian disaster posed by an approaching Hurricane Katrina. Georgie played true to the picture painted of him by Paul O'Neill and many other former Administration officials and didn't ask a single question. I wonder if he's been hanging out with any ostriches on that Texas ranch of his...

Update: Slate has a few things to say about Incurious George too.

Einstein says...

2006-02-24T13:52:00.000-05:00

... so it must be true!

Courtesy of Hetemeel.com, via Boing Boing.