i love it

--the cape i mean! im glad you and your motley crew got to spend some QT time together in the fair isle of capedom. its even better in the middle of winter when no one is around....or, you know, when its warm and you can actually go to the beach. that group picture is kind of amazing. you all do totally look different, but im glad you are all relatively-close enough to have a little adventure together! (i am also intrigued by your mention of communist group sex orgy stories.... does that make for an awkward workshop session, or what?).

sadly, last minute at work today, we were all informed that our official federal holiday would not be observed. not to sound like a little punk here, but we have approximately 5 federal holidays (and subsequently--- this means five vacation days) for the entire year:

(1) veterans day

(2) thanksgiving day

(3) christmas day

(4) new years day

(5) MLK day

(6) memorial day

(7) labor day

ok-- so thats 7 not 5, i was wrong. but still. one of my holidays--- robbed! i know, ill suck it up and it will be fine (plus, we are already planning on getting sushi take-out for lunch to ease our troubled minds) but you know, i was looking forward to vegetation time. in a mild form of retaliation, i then decided to buy my ticket home for xmas, figuring that it didnt really matter if i took off christmas eve-day, what was going to happen? (well er.... hopefully nothing. cross your fingers). i will then resume working the following monday, i guess like most normal people. sigh. i was pleasantly surprised with my usage of kayak.com, as it showed me how to get from point A to point B, during xmas, for only 350 r/t including tax. i mean, thats kind of amazing. i think they deserve a big fat kudos. (or you know, one of my personal favorites, a fiber one granola bar with chocolate and oats. delicious, and perhaps in a way, healthy! - minus all the cornsyrup additives). wow, tangent.

earlier today i was sitting at my desk in my office, and i was suddenly overcome with this great feeling of how much i missed the fall, missed new york, that smell in the air.... this also might have had something to do with the fact that i was sitting in the airconditioning, freezing my butt off, and yet, had no magical foliage to look at, nor was i wearing (a) pants (b) a scarf or (c) socks. so, you know. i guess i can plan better next time i get dressed for work. even living here, i am perpetually cold. when i got home, i then went for a run outside, the air smelled delicious, like cut grass, and a fierce wind was blowing off the ocean, and i thought, 'hey, this isnt so bad!'. at least i dont have to layer-up for the runs.

also on an unrelated topic, i have a weird rash. tmi? its itchy. and i think its spreading in parts. first it was on my torso, then on my ankles and lower legs, now on my shoulders and arms... you cant tell by looking at me, its just perpetually itchy. and you know me, im a picker. im trying to be better, but its difficult. scratching itchy things is really such a wonderful feeling. so ive decided its like whatever, nothing serious. i just feel like a small child. i showed it to heather when she was here and asked her what it was. her reply? "im a gynocologist, not a dematologist." kind of brilliant, huh? (and no, she sadly had no other advice to offer on the subject, simply remarking that it could be "one of the many products that we often use or ingest on a daily basis, and its just an allergic reaction." well... you know, THANKS for that doctor. ill be sure to not bathe, eat, drink, or breathe for a week and see how it turns out). in all seriousness, how wonderful is it to know a doctor though? pretty amazing. i guess potentially some of you will feel similarly about me one day, when you want to sue a neighbor in your co-op because they are an asshole, or when you get arrested for some various illegal activities like punching police officers. i will be here for you, i swear.

ok, this itchy girl is putting herself to bed. still reading 'american wife' by curtis, its pretty fun i must say. speaking of american wives, did anyone see those pictures of laura & gw bush with obama & michelle today, at the white house? there were a couple on the nytimes website--- in one of them, everyone's back was facing the camera, walking away, and i felt so horrible for the current first-lady's derrier. apparently it has grown in the past few years. i wish someone would have warned her of the photo op that was taking place without her knowledge. alas. her pseudo-life story is still pretty great, albeit her growing behind. enough of that cattiness.

to bed! (scratch.... scratch)

xo

Cape Wknd!

Hey Annie--
I'm so happy you and Heather had an awesome weekend in Miami. It's so good to catch up with our girlfriends, no? I was so giddy when I went back home last wknd and saw Diane, Chava, Jessi, and (albeit briefly) Morgan--when you're used to seeing your friends on a weekly basis, the absence of some 3 months feels so much longer.

Your story about the South Beach club was hilarious--it seems like just the kind of place you have to go to at least once, cheese and all. And you totally called it on those Euro guys! I would think that Heather would at least have some sympathy towards those Hungarian guys, what with that other Hungarian volleyball player/doctor.

Anyway, my weekend was pretty relaxing--I went to a poetry reading Fri night with my roommate, then just went to a bar, where we met up with some other people. They had blueberry beer on tap--that basically made my night! I was up Sat morning at 8:30 to do a 7.5 mile run with my friend/colleague Rebecca, and then I was off to the Cape.

Dan, one of my classmates, invited all 9 of us fiction writers to his family's house in Falmouth. It was about a 2 hr drive from Boston, and the town was so cute--we had lunch at this place called Liam Gallag--I mean, Liam Maguire's Pub. We walked along the ocean, then went back to the house, where we played a pretty intense game of Cranium (my team kicked some ass, of course). Dan grilled rib eye steaks with a chipotle rub and hot and sweet sausages, Jill made a chick pea stew, Farley made salad and roasted brussel sprouts, Niki made guac, Joe made an artichoke dip, and we had a lot of Harpoon IPA and Malbec by the roasting fire.

Everyone in my group is really nice--I mean, I don't think any of us will end up BFF's, but at least we all seem to respect each other's writing (...though I've yet to figure out one of my classmates, who refuses to write about anything else but Communist orgies and pre-adolescent rural incest).

I got zero work done all weekend, but I also get Veteran's Day off--I'll be making up for lost time then.

6 out of 9 of us. We make an eclectic bunch, I think.
The house.

refresher

after two houseguest visits, i am finally back to being alone in my apartment. it certainly has been busy over here, but very nice to have benjamin last weekend, and heather this weekend, to explore and see miami with.

my weekends actually felt like, well-- weekends!

the apartment has completely come together, thanks to benjamin's help & a trip to ikea. we went to some lovely restaurants, explored coral gables, visited a spanish monastary, and assembled furniture (of course). i now have a little sofa that we conveniently were able to take home right away, as it fit into my car in a box. the sofa also, conveniently, pulls out-- so that any time there is more than one guest at a time, there will be room for everyone. i finally feel like i have a little home! what would a girl do without ikea (and a boy that enjoys assembling things and curating space)?

heather arrived on wednesday night-- i was late grabbing her at the airport as i was rushing with a last minute assignment at work. i felt horrible, driving up, and she jumped into my car, and looked like she was about to burst into tears. OH NO, i though, what have i do? but then she hugged me and said, 'it is so amazing to be with a friend you love.' how much cuter could you get? she also acted like my little housewife two nights in a row, first making me dinner, and then cooking with me the next night. oh, girl time!

friday night we went out to this club down on south beach, called mansion.
picutre it by thinking of ... well, any cheesey large club in new york. the difference, we later discussed, was:

(1) the other girls standing in line were not really intimidating, because most of them
(a) were wearing odd outfits that you werent necessarily jealous of, and also,
(b) several sported fake/out of proportion breasts, which is always a little strange (to me).

(2) because there arent other girls that you are intimidated/jealous/angered by, theres much less of a competitive vibe- even just standing online to get in-- whereas in new york in those situations, its almost like everyone is competing for the same prize: entry.

here, it was much more like, oh ok we have to wait briefly in a line, and will then get in. this also, perchance, might have something to do with the way bridge & tunnel trash girls will assault you for a better spot somewhere (no offense to my techncial bridge & tunnel brooklyn girls, you know what i mean- im talking jersey/long island).

once inside, "mansion" was pretty huge, but rather empty-- again, weird- waiting on line to get into an emptyish club full of mostly girls?? but that is the way things work.

eventually more people came in. at one point, heather turns to me and says, "there are these two guys over there that are totally going to come over and talk to us. i can just feel it. female intuition." i turned and looked at them -- wearing jeans with belts, and polo shirts with stripes on them, tucked into said jeans-- and said-- "you mean those two germans?". and we laughed hysterically because that it exactly what they looked like. ridiculous german tourists, just minus the fannie packs. lo and behold, they then walked over to us and started to talking.

you could barely understand their names, likeky because they were something like alubdsgnsvvv and silgleihlsezzz. notably, i was wrong-- they were hungarian, not german, (but not like that changes anything). and they were engineers, here on business/holiday. heather was amazingly cold (as in emotionally frigid- i was impresed!), to wit- one of the hungarians was trying to chat with her. after getting no response, fheuhkahhxzzz asked her what kind of music she liked. "everything", was her atonal response. without having any other line of conversation, he then asked her if she played any musical instruments. how european. and ridiculous.

after letting them buy us drinks, we then said we had to go to bathroom, i.e., it was our ditch-em move.

....yet... they proceeded to follow us. to the bathroom. when we walked out of the ladies room, the hungarians were waiting there for us. heather turns to me, grabs my hand frantically and says, "oh god, what do we do?" . thankfully, she emboldened herself to act as the confronter and told them that we hadnt seen each other in a few months, so that we just needed to catch up. to which hihwnxhich said, "ok can we still hang out with you?" and heather gave her best "no i dont think so" face, firmly establishing her "NO" response.

our other european union encounter was later that night with some frenchies. they were some of the only hipster-looking people that ive seen in miami. though, like french people of course, they were obnoxious, prompting me to call one of them a douche-bag. the best part of course, was that it was so loud in the club, that i had to repeat it several times, yelling it, at close range , so that they could look mildly confused. (we later laughed, thinking they thought we were calling them a "shower bag", as 'douche' of course, is french for that). no hard feelings of course, just heather & i being mean (one of our hobbies in these situations of course). during this interchange, apparently the hungarian boys were hanging in the background, waving to heather, asking if they could buy us another round. (denied. again).

later, after chatting with some other club-going random tourists, and with my encouragement, heather attempted to dance on a stripper pole that was elevated and in between some of the bottle-service tables, but sadly, one of the early-2000s, brittney-spears look-alikes who was employed by the establishment took over the spot and wouldnt let heather compete. all in all, a total miamian experience.

the night ended of course at the ihop around my corner, with pancakes and sweedish crepes and us waking up six hours later to hang out with jedd belman, high school classmate. when i say hungover, you cant really believe. or maybe you can. i had to drink seltzer with chunks of ginger in it to soothe myself before jedd arrived.

once he gt here, we went to brunch down in south beach, where they thankfully had unlimited refills of diet coke fountan soda, and then we drove out to key biscayne: the first of the florida keys, and just a short drive (15 minutes) from south beach. you can rent kayaks and wind-surf-boards (wind-gliders?) right at the entrance to the key, which is nice- & which i wanted to try out-- but felt rather unmotivated to do at the time, as during the entire car trip, i thought i was going to puke all over jedd's car. even walking on the scenic beach, i almost barfed. i havent been that hungover in quite a while. heather, suprisingly, was fine (apparently she gets more practice at going out than i do- not highly suprising, in and of itself).

key biscayne- lighthouse, there in the distance. the light in this picture is so bizarrely beautiful

heather & i on the beach in key biscayne

jealous that we are still in summer clothing?

all in all, that was the most exciting portion of our time together. the rest was lovely & laidback-- we went back to my house, bought some grapefruits at the farmer's market, made a watercolor painting together to decorate my walls, ate cuban food, and caught a bit of good will hunting on t.v. sometimes, those are the best ways to spend time with your girlfriends.

heather, dwarfed by a palm tree

this morning i took her to the airport, and am now back alone at home, remembering that i should lace up and go for a long run on the beach since its such a lovely day.

this week at work promises to be rather busy and exciting, but i am looking forward to it. my law school classmate blake, who is working in atlanta, is coming to miami this week to work with us, and will get in later tonight. blake & his coworkers will be around all week, so im sure those of us based here in miami will make some kind of a get-together to show them around. also, thankfully, tuesday is veterans day- so i will at least only have to get through tomorrow before i have a bizarro-day off. this girl needs to catch up on her sleep & sun (if you can believe it-- this will be my second weekend without any beach time!)> still-- ive had an amazing two weekends in a row, so i can only be happy that i have such wonderful people in my life that were able to come visit!

and with those happy feelings, im off for my run! i promise to enjoy the day in shorts for those of you in long sleeves & sweaters.

xoxo

oh geez

this one is brief - so please forgive me. i promise to be better next week.


(1) your sister, always is, always will be.... a piece of work! those are adorable pictures, btw. what was he for halloween???

(2) OBAMA!!! i know what you mean, i havent really had time to revel in it, although there are some great photos of him & his fam on flickr re: the night he found out. very sweet. very exciting, too!

(3) heather is visiting me, so i am sorry i have been so tardy at posting. she is being a wonderful guest, spending time on the beach, and making me dinner.

and----

(4) the alma matter got some press re: we dont have enough diversity. go figure.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/08/nyregion/08specialized.html?hp

xo

Taking This Week Easy

...At least, that's what I've been trying to do. I gave a presentation on Mansfield Park yesterday--seeing as I have a closet full of corporate clothes, I decided to dress up for it. What the hell. I ran a couple of miles yesterday and the day before, and beyond that, it's been a pretty tame week. Well, I know the rest of the country was in an uproar and everyone's got their panties in a tizzy given the new president-elect, and that's great and all, but for me, in my own little world, things have been pretty quiet. Except for the fact that I got home around 1:30am last night after romping about in Kenmore Sq. Today I have to allegedly bang out some work before a poetry reading tonight, and then this kid in my program is having a birthday thingamabob. Tomorrow I'm off to the Cape--to Falmouth--with my class to bond at this other kid's cabin. Hopefully I'll have some beautiful pictures to post.

Instead I'll leave you with this pic of my adorable nephew Richard, who insisted on pushing his own baby stroller several blocks. I got into so much trouble from my sister for taking this photo. In fact, we're not talking right now. Oh, and she's pregnant, which is really cool!...except I didn't find out from her, I found out a few days later from my parents. She decided not to tell me herself because she was pissed about the photo. That's cool.

P: ING NYC Marathon Over!

Before:

26.2 miles of this: (click for detailed course map)

After! (...and never again)

Almost too exhausted to post the blow-by-blow of the race; suffice it to say, I ran the whole thing, and it was at first the most adrenaline-pumping, exciting thing ever; then it quickly became the most exhausting chore I ever voluntarily forced upon myself. Am I glad I did it? Hell's yeah! Will I ever do it again? Hell's no! Sorry, Annie, but I'm going to have to renege that earlier (tentative) promise to run the Miami Marathon with you in January.

Mile 1-2: The foot of the Verrazano Bridge in Staten Island. The wind is fierce, I can't feel my toes, there's a steep incline on the bridge (and all subsequent bridges), but it doesn't matter--I am PUMPED! There's so much energy from the rush of people, that I can't even tell I'm running uphill. Thankfully the start times are staggered, and I don't have to dodge any slow people as I was running. I hit my stride right from the start, without wasting precious energy stop-starting. However, I definitely went too fast out of the gate, without realizing it--I kept trying to run faster to catch up with different groups, because it was super windy when I was caught running alone on stretches of the bridge.

Miles 3-8: Brooklyn! This was THE most fun part of the race. Right after we got off the bridge, there were people of the Bay Ridge variety with signs saying Welcome to Brooklyn! The Bay Ridgers gave way to the Sunset Park types, and then once I got to ~20th St on 4th Ave, it was all hipsters, straight on, for the next few miles. Had a brief outer body experience, where I stepped back and evaluated just what the hell is going on: Ohmigod! This is MY city, and I'm running it! Hot damn!

Mile 7: Jessi, Colin, and Diane spotting! Yay! They were waiting near the McDonald's. First added boost of energy. Although I was tempted to take them up on the offer to quit the race and go get some Big Macs. I would continue to think about this through the remaining 19 miles of the race.

Mile 8-9: Once I crossed Atlantic Ave, my energy started to dip a bit. I had my name pinned to my shirt, so people were shouting out "Patty! You can do it!" "You go girl!" "Only 18 miles to go!" and that was cool, but I was starting to get tired. I was too quick out of the gate, which for me was a 9, 9.5min mile. Plus I'm running into ghetto downtown Brooklyn, so that holds no charm.

Mile 9: Nice surprise--I see a colleague on the sidelines, shouting my name! She snaps my pic. Energy slightly renewed.

Several spectators have signs like: "17 miles until beer!" I wondered if there would be kegs waiting for us at the finish line.

Mile 9-10: Ghetto-ish part of Clinton Hill that bleeds into W-burg. Pass the street of one of my hair-pullingly frustrating authors. Get agitated thinking re how he dicked me over after I got him on his first national TV interview. Energy dips.

Mile 10-11: Hipster sightings. People are tailgating on their stoops or balcony windows. Someone above shouts my name. Wonder if I might chance upon Damien, his Israeli boyfriend and his W-burg posse. (Nope.)

Miles 12: The race is officially starting to suck. My feet are starting to collapse a bit, my knees are starting to ache, my hips and back are faltering. Remind myself how desolate Greenpoint is. Enter Queens--ditto LIC. What's up with my hometown borough? There's no love. Not much in the way of spectators, who are keeping me afloat. Cross the Pulaski Bridge--apparently the Polish embassy gives you some kind of award for crossing the bridge. Think to self: would it be so wrong if I just ran 3 of the 5 boroughs?

Mile: 13.1: My half-marathon time is about where I want to be: 2hrs, 15min. The "projections" would be a 4hr, 30 min marathon at that pace. However, I know I'll also be infintitely more tired for the latter half of the marathon, so I figure I can tack on an extra minute or two per mile, which would put me in the 4hr, 45min range. Continue to cling to the hope that I'll run the whole thing in under 5hrs.

I literally run into Hat, this guy on my college golf team. He's shouting my name from the sidelines. What a pleasant surprise! He's there with his Korean-Jewish girlfriend. I wonder how many other random people I might chance to meet along the course?

Mile 14: I hit my first mental wall. Ohmigod, I want to start to die. You mean I have at least 2 more hours of running? More likely 3? I have no energy. I curse the fact that I only got 4hrs of sleep the night before, and the fact that I had only 3 spoonfuls of oatmeal in the morning, and that I didn't carbo-load the night before. I'd been pretty conservative about drinking water at the stations--I would only rinse my mouth, making taking one quick sip. The Gatorade I could barely drink--it kept leaving a nasty taste in my mouth whilst running. I need energy. I hesitate for a moment, and then I'm like F* this-- I run into a little bodega along the course, grab a can of Coke from the refrigerator, make an apologetic face to the clerk--"Sorry, I need--I'm running--Sugar" is all I manage to eek out, before he gives a reluctant nod--then I jog back into the race while sipping the Coke. Damnit, Coke has never tasted so good in my life. I jog the next half-mile with the can in my hands, sipping as I run. I tell myself that these calories are good for me. I worry that people will stare at me funny as they see me running and drinking a Coke. Like, they think I'm taking it easy, filling up my body with the crap kind of nutrients. Like I'm an imposter runner. Then I think- F* that--these people haven't just put themselves through this torture!

Miles 15-16: One of the speakers at the foot of the Queensboro Bridge is blasting out the Gorillaz's "Feel Good." As I am without an ipod, I am relying on all street sounds to distract me from giving up. I get an extra burst of energy. But...goddamnit the Queensboro Bridge is long! And windy. And hilly. This part of the course goes from an elevation of zero (nearly sea level) to almost 150. My arches in my feet have collapsed--I ignore the throbbing pain. Morgan and her mom are waiting at mile 17--how dumb would I look if I'm walking the course when I see them?

Miles 17-18: The UES is awesome! 1st Ave from 59th St to 96 was so pumped. There were tons, TONS of people along the sidelines--a lot of young people. So many people were shouting my name, and they were making eye contact with you, so I felt like I had to keep going on. I was surprised, because there were so many frat guy types and sorority looking girls--I felt like if I ever met them at Mad River or Doc Watsons, they would push past me at the bar, or give me a bitchy look in the bathrooms. Instead they were shouting--at least for that one second--for me!!! Even though it took such an effort even to turn around and smile at them, and acknowledge their cheers. This gave me an extra boost. Also, Morgan and her mom were waiting--as promised-- by the Duane Reade on 75th and 1st. Morgan snapped a photo. After they were out of sight, I slowed down considerably. At this point, I'm hunched over, staring at the ground as I'm shuffling each foot in front of the other. But I'm still running.

Mile 19: The crowds thin out to non-existence after 100th St. My energy plummets.

Miles 20-21: Hit a major wall on the Willis Ave Bridge. I hate the Bronx. All of my horrible associations with riding the train for 2 HOURS EACH WAY to high school come flooding back to me. Also the fact that my feet refuse to lift themselves up. I am shuffling badly. Everything hurts so much. 20 miles is still an accomplishment, right? Why couldn't I just stop right now? On the bridge, my feet stop. It's only for 6 seconds, but they stop. They refuse to keep going. I have no idea how I'm going to get through the next 6 miles. My heart feels fine, but everything south of my lower back is not working.

Someone on the sidelines has a box of tissues, and I grab one. Maybe it's a Pavlovian response to Kleenex, but I start to cry. I am so tired. My body is throbbing in pain. And no one put a gun to my head to make me do this. I cry as I run, which by this point has been reduced to a shuffle-power-walk-run. I cry for 4 seconds, realize any tears running down my cheeks will freeze over from the cold, so I keep going.

There's a guy rapping on the mic-- "Welcome to the Bronx--Welcome to the Bronx!" I love how each neighborhood plays up its "regionalism." Then Lauryn Hill was blasting on the speakers. The only things keeping me going at this point are: how the hell am I going to get home from the Bronx if I stop now? And my cousins waiting for me at mile 23.

I need sugar. Badly. There's a long stretch before I spot any stores, and I run into a Spanish bodega, and a couple of thuggish-looking teenagers are blocking the entrance to the fridge. No no no...I have no energy to spare. Then they see me and say, "What do you need?" "Coke" is all I can manage. "Oh wow, you need Coke for the race?" And they grab a bottle of Coke for me, since I'm so cold and so tired and my hands are shaking from exhaustion. I make another apologetic nod to the store clerk, and the kids hold open the door for me. "Good luck with the race!" they shout. God, I love NYC. This marathon has really made me reevaluate my own faulty stereotypes. I have a corny moment where I briefly forget my aching body and think, "Wow as regional as NYers are, a day like today brings us all together and makes us celebrate our NY heritage!"

Mile 22: Thank God I'm finally back in Manhattan. Crossing the Madison Ave bridge brought such a sigh of exhausted relief. I'm in Harlem now, and just like how a few avenues east and a few blocks down were all White-preppy-young-professionals, here were Black-suited-middle aged-professionals that were cheering on the sidelines. Really, all New Yorkers were out today; my heart swells (momentarily). I pass Marcus Garvey Park--it's beautiful, as are the surrounding brownstones. I've never been in this part of the city before.

Mile 23: Hallelujah! I see my cousins Cathy, Charlotte, Paul, Spencer, and my brother all waiting for me at 96th and 5th. I am so happy to see them. Later Charlotte tells me I was hunched over staring down, and when I saw them I lit up into a bright smile, and then after I pass them I go back to hunching over and staring at the ground.

Someone has a sign "Pain is temporary--Pride is 4-Ever!" Where the hell was that sign 9 miles ago?

Mile 24-26: Final stretch. Try to avoid the streaks of horse manure on the ground--luckily it's been flattened out by the presumably 30,000 other runners who ran the course ahead of me (of course, I later learn it was some 33,000 ahead of me). I'm still running at a slow pace, but it's faster than my pace during miles 19-21. There seem to be a lot of foreigners crowding along Central park South--not surprising. There's also--strangely--an abundance of English male tourists. Groups of them are shouting my name: "Pat-ty, you can do it! One more mile to go!" And when that mellifluous accent, coupled with a pasty complexion, is shouting out your name-- a chorus of voices and faces!--you have no other choice but to oblige. So one more mile I went.

26.2: Holy cow, there are people around me who can see the finish line but they're still walking anyway. At the .1 mark I ignore every ache in my body and sprint like a mo-fo to the finish line. Hallelujah! Ohmigod, I'm done! I never have to do this anymore, ever! Then I realize it took me an EXTRA one hour to complete the second half of the race. That means my time was almost double for the second half than the first half of the race. I am sad about my finish time.

Post-Race: My knees buckle after I cross the starting line, and a volunteer is instantly at my side. "Are you okay?" she asks. She points me to another medic, and he puts my arm over his shoulders and his arm around my waist and leads me to the medical tents. "I'm okay, really, it's just that my knees are really sore," I say. He says, "Well, let's just get some ice for you. Wait, do you want to pose for your picture first?" I do, and while attempting a model pose my knee buckles again. The cameraman and the medic chuckle. "She's trying to strike a pose!" the former says. I too laugh at myself and say: "God, that's what happens when you try to show off!"

Charlie the medic leads me to a stretcher, even though I remind him that he has some 39,999 other people to attend to, but he reassures me it's okay. If you're out there, Charlie, a BIG thank you to you for helping me out--you were awesome!

I get iced up, and I borrow a cell phone to try to find my brother. I was at 72nd and West Dr in the park, and I tell him I'll meet him on 72nd and Broadway. However, they've closed off all of the exits until 77th St. I am freezing cold, especially with the ice packs on my knees. I am so frustrated. It takes me almost a half-hour to exit the park, what with the aches, the ice packs on my knees, the freezing cold, the crowds, the exit blocades... it strikes me as ironic that I run this whole 26.2 mile length, only to have the post-race 7 block distance take longer than my first 5k.

Breakfast/lunch/dinner at a diner on 72nd: I'm not really that hungry. I eat some soup, push around a few forkfuls of spaghetti, before handing over my meal to my cousin, who devours it with flourish. What's wrong with me?

Home: My mother has a hot bath waiting for me. I shower up, then plunge myself into the steaming heat. Afterwards, I wander downstairs and eat a normal-sized Korean meal of rice, kimchi and mandoo. My mother is heating up some chicken stew with peppers for me. When I start to cough--something is tickling my throat and I feel like I'm getting an allergic reaction to something, she says to me, "Do you always eat like that? You just swallow without chewing?" She wrinkled her nose. "Umma, I think I'm allergic to something, my throat is ticklish." Then she says, "Because you not eat Calcium pills before you race, that's why." And THEN she says: "Didn't you already eat dinner? And you eat again?" I say: "Umma, I just ran a whole marathon. You try doing that, and tell me how YOU eat" and I storm out of the kitchen. I make up with my mother later.

My brother noted the other runners ahead of me, including the old grandmas and grandpas and the guy on crutches, all of whom ran faster than me. He said this in the king of loving way that only a brother can. Apparently there was a batgirl, and some raggedy anne twins, but my brother lamented that there was no one dressed as Vader, complete with a sign across his chest saying "My name is Vader." He kept musing about how the Vader costume should have a speaker device jerry-rigged into the chestplate, with pre-recorded sounds for different moments. So when someone passes Vader, he presses a button that says, "The Force is strong with this one," and when he gets tired, he presses a different button that says "Vader is tired." For whatever reason, my brother delivers this with a German accent. Since he's been giving this so much thought, I tell my brother he should be the one running around in this costume. "No way," he says. "I can't even run 2 miles at this point." Then he goes on about an oxygen tank, and the head piece, and....

10pm: Pass out. And...scene.

hooray!!!

(1) patty, congrats!!! its all over!!! i hoped you didnt snot all over yourself, but, if you did, no matter. you did it! im super proud of you, as is everyone else. super staaaar!!

(2) this post comes as i am sleepy so i cant really form smart sentences, but i thought i would say, i had a wonderful weekend , very busy, saw some sights, bought a couch, lovely!

(3) friday night we walked around south beach, saw some costumes, got annoyed at the crowds, then decided to go eat at a little raw bar on the bay-side of miami--- outdoors, pool, tiki bars, live band, a handful of people in costumes dancing - very laid back, pitcher of beer, snow crab, shrimp, yum!

(4) i cant even formulate more sentences now, but i will be certain to catch up later. patty, congrats again!

(5) almost forgot-- here are some lovely pics from the weekend

palm tree in the dark, on the bay-side, after dinner saturday

drinks at the standard hotel, sunsetting, beautiful

also sun setting - the church around my corner


big leaves in the garden by the spanish monastary - oldest spanish monastary,
reconstructed in miami! (who knew?)


more greens at the spanish monastary


nighty time!
xoxo