the feeling i've had most consistently of late is that it is time to run again; i need to run some more. my system needs to digest the things i've shoveled into it, my knees need to forget themselves anew, the last few nalgenes of water need to get wherever it is they go when i manage to stave off headaches. it's not that running is especially pleasurable, it's that it's so quantifiable. this distance at that pace for those hours, and a symbolic penny in the container in my closet for every mile behind me. before the election i'd watch cable news as i ran, but i've been doing less and less of that this winter. our building's exercise room was packed this afternoon, and it was impossible to feign ignorance of the woman in a designer museum sweatshirt waiting to swoop on a treadmill, so i ceded mine after four miles and a few primetime suggestions of the inauguration. i read all about the executive orders after a bath, though, and now it is time to run again! pokémon go pairs well with restlessness like mine; all these steps help me hatch eggs and evolve buddies. i really went bananas with runs and walks this week (which is fine when you're sick as long as your symptoms are above the neck, the internet says) to try and collect eggs that might yield a new-to-the-game species; no successful hatches so far, but my little digital incubator has miles to go before we sleep.
my partner says that providing the amount of support i need, which i am to understand is a great deal of support, can be difficult for him. it doesn't really matter if that's more or less support than anyone else needs, i reason, since he is the only person who lives with me, has been for a quarter of a century now, and if he feels it is a daunting amount of support to give then that assessment is the one that matters. the idea of my needing a great deal of support isn't shameful to me, but it is surprising. how much work should a writer show their spouse? how often can one solicit shoe feedback? at what point have you shared so many Fun Facts from the book you're reading that you might want to think about auditioning a new prescription? my therapist seems to believe that i'm doing my best, and i would like to carry that around like proof of vaccination. i would like that vaccination, to be Doing My Best.
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
01.01.25
2025: THE YEAR IN REVIEW
i sprayed rubbing alcohol on a tree.
i cut the sleeves and hem off of a tee shirt.
i ran five miles.
i texted my college roommates.
i refilled my water bottle.
i sang to the cats.
i set an alarm for 6:45 pm.
i sent an email to myself.
i rinsed out a plastic container.
i watched death bed: the bed that eats.
i sprayed rubbing alcohol on a tree.
i cut the sleeves and hem off of a tee shirt.
i ran five miles.
i texted my college roommates.
i refilled my water bottle.
i sang to the cats.
i set an alarm for 6:45 pm.
i sent an email to myself.
i rinsed out a plastic container.
i watched death bed: the bed that eats.
10.12.24 [on the F train]
my therapist seems confident that the harris-walz campaign will bring it home next month, though a bit of me wonders if it just makes sense to project that when you're a therapist. i was thinking about managing expectations when i talked to the guy who irradiated our cat this week (said cat has early-stage hyperthyroidism, which can be managed with a specialized diet and daily oral or otic meds forever or cured by paying someone to inject radioiodine into him and then keep him in a "cat spa" on the upper west side until the geiger counter hollers a bit less lustily, the option we chose—who needs a fall trip abroad, anyway?): this specialist is absolutely the dude you want doing this to your cat pal, manhattan prices aside, as he helped develop the treatment decades ago and has apparently cured tens of thousands of patients with it. (see also: take your pet to a spay/neuter clinic at your local shelter if you can, since they perform way, way more of those surgeries than your regular vet does.) but he is also very much a vet specialist, with the kind of firm boundaries that make sense when you're working with the kind of people who can afford medical staycations for their companion animals: he does not answer his phone, he calls precisely when he says he will, and he does not speculate about effects and results that are not directly related to what he's measured and observed in clinical practice. i am used, for better or for worse, to doctors' reactions to the charm offensive i release like cuttlefish ink when we interact, so the fact that he chose not to reassure me with optimistic bromides when i hoped the cat wouldn't develop renal issues after we knocked out his thyroid was...surprising but not unwelcome? in other news, we completely ignored the clinic's diligent instructions about how to manage matty's atomic breath after i brought him home yesterday morning. part of that is pragmatism—we have a one-bedroom apartment, and herding and isolating a still-radioactive cat are orders of magnitude more difficult than trying not to share or catch COVID—and part of it is wishful risk-taking after reading up on how specialists in other parts of the state and country tell their clients to minimize harm. in some places cats are inpatients for 10 days, and in others it's just two! some docs say you can open the bedroom door after a week, others talk up lead underpants! i did not want to limit myself to a few minutes of contact a day for any length of time and am also still vulnerable to the magical thinking that if i intentionally experience some sort of hardship for the cat it will improve his health outcome, so kind-of exposing myself to radiation it is. i understand that this is superstitious and childish, but i'm clear-eyed about choosing it as a stress response.
i have settled into what looks like a regular weekly shift monitoring the garden-adjacent quiet study room at an uptown branch of the NYPL, and i love it; it's not really a swap-in for my old afternoons at the nonprofit bookstore, since it involves almost no talking or physical work at all, but it's an anchor in my week that i'd missed terribly. the atmosphere in there is wonderful, and it's been incredibly conducive to work so far; i think i've written a hundred get-out-the-vote letters on recent afternoons, and i've finally managed to dig into all the research i need to do for a pair of assignments coming due around the end of the month. speaking of stress responses, i've been napping and running hard when i should be writing; childish procrastination and i know it, but i have my first half-marathon in years next weekend, and all things being equal, i would rather not have my internet pal who works with the raccoons and swans in prospect park end up finding me insensible in a thicket somewhere, which is definitely what happens when you arrange interviews and hit deadlines at the expense of long sessions on the treadmill.
i have settled into what looks like a regular weekly shift monitoring the garden-adjacent quiet study room at an uptown branch of the NYPL, and i love it; it's not really a swap-in for my old afternoons at the nonprofit bookstore, since it involves almost no talking or physical work at all, but it's an anchor in my week that i'd missed terribly. the atmosphere in there is wonderful, and it's been incredibly conducive to work so far; i think i've written a hundred get-out-the-vote letters on recent afternoons, and i've finally managed to dig into all the research i need to do for a pair of assignments coming due around the end of the month. speaking of stress responses, i've been napping and running hard when i should be writing; childish procrastination and i know it, but i have my first half-marathon in years next weekend, and all things being equal, i would rather not have my internet pal who works with the raccoons and swans in prospect park end up finding me insensible in a thicket somewhere, which is definitely what happens when you arrange interviews and hit deadlines at the expense of long sessions on the treadmill.
07.15.23 [on the J train]
i joined the dubious sorority of generations of salty cooperators before me in writing to our building's management board this week, after treadmill adventure #475 in which the dude next to me in our janky old exercise room–on a work call the whole time!–set his incline to everest and grabbed the front of the machine so that it could haul him up the faux hill. i'd walk a parade in matching outfits with this pet peeve; i'd serve it little portions of my own dinner on one of the wedgwood dessert dishes i've hoarded on thrift store walks, would get a memorial tattoo for it if it was capable of dying. hauls like his are bad for him, bad for the machine, bad for me–a 'mill belt loosened thus will eventually start skipping and propel another user facefirst into the control panel, depriving her of her teeth and like maybe causing brain injury? in much more help-me-help-you terms i explained that in my message and offered some bracing national statistics about treadmill injuries, along with assorted pleasantries about how much we love our digs and the building's amenities. all true! our apartment rules and i'll be beside myself when the waters take it in the end times!
so i had a missed call from the president when i got up the next morning that i returned with a voicemail, and in the afternoon i got an email about how i was right and how's this wording for a sign for the gym? i sent praise and friendly tweaks; "stand by for greatness," said they, and scene.
talking about interactions with one's co-op board is probably up there with describing one's dreams,* but hear me out: ours is historically and notoriously resistant to feedback (our annual meetings are like jerry springer flash-forwards, or they were before i stopped attending them), and that last dare i say playful response shocked the shit out of me. i'm not surprised they responded to my note, it was a very good note, but the kicky denouement illustrated what i have started to think of as the mcconaughey principle, or the efficacy of the invitation to participate in cool. this is probably covered more eloquently in getting to yes, but i haven't read it since high school, so: i benefit regularly if not consistently from asking people in various persuasive episodes to join me in my correct and mutually beneficial thinking. i sort of did this back when i was a research chief and a big part of my job was explaining to writers and editors that they were wrong, but it's oakier now, and super-dry correction isn't my kink these days. it works so often! wild!
this might be a riff too far, but i think there's an echo of this in the way that most strangers are really nice to me. there's lots of privilege wrapped up in that, and sinister/shitty reasons why it's advantageous to treat middle-aged, upper-middle-class white women well, but i also think my particular look (multiple visible tattoos and piercings, frequently-vivid hair, punky brewster fits) kind of inspires people to comment on those things or engage with me in a way that implicates them in harmless whimsy. my elderly neighbors in particular love this kind of thing so, so much, internets. we all get to participate in a teal pixie cut and a checkered skort set! take care of yourself, and each other.
so i had a missed call from the president when i got up the next morning that i returned with a voicemail, and in the afternoon i got an email about how i was right and how's this wording for a sign for the gym? i sent praise and friendly tweaks; "stand by for greatness," said they, and scene.
talking about interactions with one's co-op board is probably up there with describing one's dreams,* but hear me out: ours is historically and notoriously resistant to feedback (our annual meetings are like jerry springer flash-forwards, or they were before i stopped attending them), and that last dare i say playful response shocked the shit out of me. i'm not surprised they responded to my note, it was a very good note, but the kicky denouement illustrated what i have started to think of as the mcconaughey principle, or the efficacy of the invitation to participate in cool. this is probably covered more eloquently in getting to yes, but i haven't read it since high school, so: i benefit regularly if not consistently from asking people in various persuasive episodes to join me in my correct and mutually beneficial thinking. i sort of did this back when i was a research chief and a big part of my job was explaining to writers and editors that they were wrong, but it's oakier now, and super-dry correction isn't my kink these days. it works so often! wild!
this might be a riff too far, but i think there's an echo of this in the way that most strangers are really nice to me. there's lots of privilege wrapped up in that, and sinister/shitty reasons why it's advantageous to treat middle-aged, upper-middle-class white women well, but i also think my particular look (multiple visible tattoos and piercings, frequently-vivid hair, punky brewster fits) kind of inspires people to comment on those things or engage with me in a way that implicates them in harmless whimsy. my elderly neighbors in particular love this kind of thing so, so much, internets. we all get to participate in a teal pixie cut and a checkered skort set! take care of yourself, and each other.
*the other night i had an intricate dream about an old-timey western that was also a soap opera set in the titular town of QUARRELWOOD and i might write some imaginary episode recaps for it.
02.08.21
since the beginning of the year i've been doing team-based escape-from-zombies fitness-tracker challenges with my college roommate jen and her various social and professional circles; it's been a delightful way to fold check-ins with a dear friend into my daily life and has also turned me into an aaron sorkin character. removing old green nail polish? can totally happen while i'm racewalking around the apartment. emailing a dermatologist for a story follow-up? can totally happen while i'm racewalking around the apartment. worrying about what's going on in the bartlet biden administration? fooled you, i stopped doing that at the end of january. okay, i mostly stopped doing that at the end of january.
it turns out that motivation is a much bigger problem for me when the world is just mostly on fire instead of completely on fire. i've been so frayed and overcommitted for most of the pandemic that i didn't think about the fact that i was doing too much; now that, i don't know, we're watching two hours of news a night instead of three and i'm quilting at the coffee table instead of writing letters to georgia voters as we watch, i've started to shy away from the work that wasn't a problem a few months ago, or wasn't a problem i could avoid. that's where the racewalking out of the zombies' clutches comes in: you're not really procrastinating if you're getting steps en route to returning a library book (for which you won't even get late-fined until june) to help friends bust through a roadblock of undead wolves. the work is still happening, but i've started asking for the leeway that social media assures me i've deserved all this time. i think i ruined my sneakers on a walk up to midtown that got us to the next safe house just as some bar television played the national anthem at the beginning of the super bowl and it was totally worth it (also they had started to smell, a bit).
it turns out that motivation is a much bigger problem for me when the world is just mostly on fire instead of completely on fire. i've been so frayed and overcommitted for most of the pandemic that i didn't think about the fact that i was doing too much; now that, i don't know, we're watching two hours of news a night instead of three and i'm quilting at the coffee table instead of writing letters to georgia voters as we watch, i've started to shy away from the work that wasn't a problem a few months ago, or wasn't a problem i could avoid. that's where the racewalking out of the zombies' clutches comes in: you're not really procrastinating if you're getting steps en route to returning a library book (for which you won't even get late-fined until june) to help friends bust through a roadblock of undead wolves. the work is still happening, but i've started asking for the leeway that social media assures me i've deserved all this time. i think i ruined my sneakers on a walk up to midtown that got us to the next safe house just as some bar television played the national anthem at the beginning of the super bowl and it was totally worth it (also they had started to smell, a bit).
08.11.20
[i took over sending my and my friends' virtual-relay-race newsletter for the week (we're about a dozen pals pooling our miles to "run" from brooklyn to berkeley to raise money for feeding america).]
Hello from Manhattan, everyone! Lauren here, chiming in on the Lower East Side to report that the 194 miles we logged as a team this week have moved us westward to within 421 miles of our goal; with a bit of athletic tape, self-talk, and gumption, we could be in Berkeley in two weeks! With 86% of the journey behind us, we’re up to $3,483.15 in pledges raised, and I have personally performed (symbolic) Viking funerals for three pairs of no-show socks on the East River. I recently disappeared into an Internet-research vortex of what a Sock Afterlife might entail and, at least according to some theories of puppets and reincarnation posted on an Arabic Facebook page, it’s pretty complicated. My actual socks reached some sort of secret terminus on the wheel of time because upcycling them would have been biological warfare.
Our team cartographer reports that Google Maps has taken us off-road for the week, and that we’re camped out parallel to the 305 between Mt. Tobin and Mt. Moses, just past Battle Mountain, NV.
I have a soft spot — a lymph node, if you will — for Battle Mountain, which the Washington Post’s Gene Weingarten named the Armpit of America back in 2001. A year later, the people of Battle Mountain banded together
…to stage the inaugural Festival in the Pit, celebrating with the slogan "Only Inches From Your Heart." Word of the event spread around the country, eventually reaching the marketing department of Procter & Gamble Co.'s Old Spice deodorant brand.
Old Spice, not one to miss a golden opportunity themselves, approached Battle Mountain community leaders early this year about the brand becoming the corporate sponsor for this year's festival, held this past weekend.
Thus were born such unique events as a "deodorant toss," where contestants attempted to heave Old Spice deodorant through a target. Then, there was the "Sweat T-shirt Contest," taking a page out of MTV's spring break wet T-shirt contests except there were no bikini-clad young women, just men and children willing to be drenched with a water hose and to show off their "pits."
Bless.
We’ve pulled up our socks and gathered for a drink at the Owl Club Casino & Restaurant, a foodless bar and hotel when Weingarten visited in 2001 and a place that “would do well even in a big city” per Yelpers now. (“Cold eggs were delivered to everyone who ordered them.” “Clean strange bathrooms in the casino.”) I like the cut of the Owl Club’s jib; some sources say that it has been in operation for a century, while others claim it closed in 1999. Per Special Agent Dale Cooper: Don’t plan it, don’t wait for it, just let it happen.
Thank you for following along! Stay well, and every day, once a day, give yourself a present.
LMO
06.11.20
i run into M, a retired firefighter who worked as a personal trainer in our building's fitness room in the before times. he used to give me shit about not seeing me in there every day, and i would tell him about the international work trips that took me away from our treadmills and tv news (i pitched my friend the fitness magazine editor-in-chief a piece about angry running a couple of years ago, but i think it seemed too unhealthy, and that was right about when another publisher was acquiring her title, anyway). now he gives me shit about the days we don't run into him on the promenade, and i tell him that most of my workout is up at the track at 10th street. as always, he tells me that he gets terribly bored when he runs in a circle. M and i differ in a number of ways, but that, somehow, is the gulf of note: running in a circle is the 2020 version of afternoons at skateway in the late eighties when i'd get so excited about janet jackson that i'd slam into the carpeted wall on tight turns. the boys-only-on-the-rink songs were no problem, i'd just take my big earrings off and stick them in my pocket. a guy brought an amp to the bleachers this sunday and cranked "let's dance," which faded into "billie jean." i've always loved watching people succumb to sets, but watching runners try to play it cool through a shitload of, like, billy ocean and hall and oates was especially delightful.
two nearly-identical dogs on st. mark's this evening were both named lucy; pro jazz ensembles are playing for tips in tompkins square park. i have gotten over the fact that i forgot "sectional" as i filed yet another piece on living rooms a few weeks ago ("OH GOD JOE WHAT DO YOU CALL A LONG COUCH IN PIECES") and have learned the difference between a sideboard and a credenza; if i don't keep the world up to date on the latest in open-concept living spaces, internets, my god, who will. i thought about instagramming a wax print fabric i bought from a ghanaian woman in st. croix a few months ago and have been working into my huge, ongoing quilting project and worried that i couldn't talk about how a chinese company produced it. i might email the social worker who hooked me up with my neighbors to let her know that i need to stop doing their shopping, maybe, perhaps at the end of the month. i keep thinking of this man's posture.
two nearly-identical dogs on st. mark's this evening were both named lucy; pro jazz ensembles are playing for tips in tompkins square park. i have gotten over the fact that i forgot "sectional" as i filed yet another piece on living rooms a few weeks ago ("OH GOD JOE WHAT DO YOU CALL A LONG COUCH IN PIECES") and have learned the difference between a sideboard and a credenza; if i don't keep the world up to date on the latest in open-concept living spaces, internets, my god, who will. i thought about instagramming a wax print fabric i bought from a ghanaian woman in st. croix a few months ago and have been working into my huge, ongoing quilting project and worried that i couldn't talk about how a chinese company produced it. i might email the social worker who hooked me up with my neighbors to let her know that i need to stop doing their shopping, maybe, perhaps at the end of the month. i keep thinking of this man's posture.
05.03.20
i thought for a week or so that i was accumulating soot as i ran errands and walked up to the rubber track ten blocks north of houston, but i appear to be developing...a tan? the speckled filth on my forehead and cheeks is definitely freckles, and joe says the back of my neck has lost its customary translucence. i was decent about getting out of the house in the before times — though i worked out indoors, i made it into the neighborhood at least once a day, and i walked to soho for my weekly bookstore shifts and to and from chinatown to catch the subway up to the bird hospital — but i guess, surprise surprise, taking a daily late-afternoon walk with joe and, now, spending an hour a day up at the track is, despite the mostly-grey-and-rainy weather we've been having, the sort of thing that toasts a gal. i wish i could report that this stirred something in me, but it's just a thing, like the acne i've been getting from my masks and the welts i get under my breasts when i run several days in a row.
i run all the days in a row, now; it's about a mile up to the track, which is just enough time to make respectable progress on my pokémon situation (david bowie, my gyarados, is such a powerful boy) before lurching through a minimum of 13 jogged laps and a lot of strolling. the track surface mimics the spring of my beloved treadmills, i have the lanes more or less to myself when it's windy and/or raining, and the strip of grass between me and the east river promenade teems with fledgling robins and juvenile squirrels (who have yet to learn, a month in, that there's no angle in dashing across the track to forage for food on the astroturf at its center). when i'm facing north i can see the power station that blew during hurricane sandy and denied us electricity for a week; when i loop around south the williamsburg bridge eats the horizon. i couldn't tell you why ferry traffic has been up for the past two months, but i swear that it has, and racing the boats up- and downriver is delightful, even though i always, always lose. on the best days they carry salt air up from the harbor. i am wearing a neon fanny pack without irony. send help.
i run all the days in a row, now; it's about a mile up to the track, which is just enough time to make respectable progress on my pokémon situation (david bowie, my gyarados, is such a powerful boy) before lurching through a minimum of 13 jogged laps and a lot of strolling. the track surface mimics the spring of my beloved treadmills, i have the lanes more or less to myself when it's windy and/or raining, and the strip of grass between me and the east river promenade teems with fledgling robins and juvenile squirrels (who have yet to learn, a month in, that there's no angle in dashing across the track to forage for food on the astroturf at its center). when i'm facing north i can see the power station that blew during hurricane sandy and denied us electricity for a week; when i loop around south the williamsburg bridge eats the horizon. i couldn't tell you why ferry traffic has been up for the past two months, but i swear that it has, and racing the boats up- and downriver is delightful, even though i always, always lose. on the best days they carry salt air up from the harbor. i am wearing a neon fanny pack without irony. send help.
01.05.20
it occurred to me as i angry-treadmilled to the tv news this afternoon that while i haven't formally attempted a 101 in 1001 ("complete 101 preset tasks in a period of 1001 days") list for nearly five years, i've probably managed to take down a bunch of items from my last one anyway—and i totally did! way to go, haphazard me!
original start date: 10 june 2012
original end date: 08 march 2015
items completed: 023
items remaining: 078
...and since then,
additional items completed: 14
[004]: visit pittsburgh [see 09.28.15]
boy howdy do we love the 'burgh: since that first fall trip in 2015, the missus and i have driven back out three more times. while item 014 ("visit mari in atlanta") is now impossible, she and her family are now PA-based, and we've taken down the great race (my all-time favorite 10K, a crowded but delightfully citywide thing) with them three times. ask for "pittsburgh, you're my kind of town" in my best springsteen growl if we see each other in person; it's even better than the songs i invent for the cats.
[026]: go to the opera [completed october 2015]
baby's first opera was tannhäuser at the met, and while an old-school, nearly-four-hour (plus three intermissions, as i recall) take on early wagner might not seem like the most intuitive call, the friend* who facilitated our extremely good seats (he used to represent performers and is tight with the folks who film and simulcast the met's performances in HD) also talked us through the teutonic shenanigans. we went on to see an utterly stunning magic flute at the teatro dell'opera di roma (i cried like a baby and got a moth tattoo a few days later, which was technically coincidental but still), and we've been back to the met with the same opera-ringer pal for pelléas et mélisande (debussy's only opera). i have worn the same thrifted balenciaga tent dress to all three, and, weirdly, have yet to wear the black velvet opera coat i found at a vintage store on our first trip to pittsburgh? guess we have to hit some more operas.
[031]: get my name printed in the new york times [completed 09.01.19]
my first and twitter names turned up as part of patricia lockwood's "live nude dads read the sunday paper" project, but that assembled poem was online-only, and c'mon, it's much more satisfying to have debuted thus. that was a journey: i convinced myself a dozen different times over the course of several months that the piece wouldn't run, despite universally supportive communication from my editor and joe's exhortations to, like, breathe into a paper bag and go to bed already. i have now accepted that it can't be taken away and am working on new pitches! the travel section would seem like the most natural fit, but i can't write for it, as i've taken press trips (which are strictly forbidden for its contributors). i considered a modern love writeup about the series of late-night DMs i got last summer from a guy who turned me down when i asked him to senior prom and wanted me to know a couple of decades later that he was wrong to have done so, but that seemed...fraught. inspired by "my so-karen life,"** i was thinking about rites of passage...which now seems to be on hiatus. that said, i am unfazed (and am also going to get off my ass and aim at the new yorker this year).
[039]: spend the night on a boat [see 08.25.17].
i've now hit the atlantic for CRESLI's three-day great south channel trip three years in a row and am addicted to both cetaceanspotting and turning in with the thrum of an engine under my belly and stars and spray on my back. that trio of trips was pretty bare-bones: i brought a sleeping bag, a plush peep, and a pillowcase, and i dragged my lumpy vinyl cot mattress up to the top deck of our temporarily-mostly-repurposed fishing boat as often as i could (every night but one so far, i think?). i love whale watching, but i also love the formal restrictions of spending extended time on a small vessel in unpredictable conditions; i love pelagic birds, a deck heaving under my flip-flops, brushing my teeth and spitting over the stern. joe has yet to join me on any of those trips, but he flew out as my plus-one for a working trip on a small ocean liner in northern europe last fall: we flew to berlin and spent a few days revisiting falafel and oktoberfest, then took a coach to rostock and swooped out for a week of danish and norwegian port-hopping. the jump from a craft with 60 passengers to one with 900*** is not insignificant, despite the prevalence of NPR enthusiasts on both in these cases: the latter was unquestionably a luxury cruise (with on-board history and astronomy pros, balconies and cashmere blankets for all, shitting-you-not edvard munch originals [on loan from museums] on the walls...you get the idea). i had never been on A Cruise, and i am not sorry i tried one; the peoplewatching was top-hole, and i appreciated the opportunity to snack on destinations we might like to revisit. the sleep quality, ironically, ended up being comparable to what i've experienced on my CRESLI trips, albeit for reasons at the other end of the spectrum: at one point i acquired a wool blanket that pleased me so well that i was too excited to nap.**** we are unlikely to take another cruise, but i would consider recommending one on that particular line to, say, my parents, if they were intent on that particular sort of trip. tl;dr: more (hopefully small and/or eco-friendly) boats in the '20s.
[043]: spend a night in the hudson valley [completed 09.18]
when did we first go to the hudson valley? have we met? what is time? joe reminds me that we drove out to hudson for the afternoon when we spent a long weekend in narrowsburg in the fall of 2015, and that we didn't actually spend the night there until september 2018, when we shared an airbnb with friends for basilica soundscape (a weekend music festival) and were accosted by an extremely friendly tuxedo cat whose tag announced him to be BLACK BAT. we headed back again on a road trip last may and stayed at tiger house, a former hunting lodge that was a b&b at the time (i think it's now closed?). i am exceedingly fond of spotty dog (a bookstore/bar) and BLACK BAT, obviously. we did not solve a murder mystery at tiger house and should probably buy it so we can fix that.
[046]: swim with the coney island polar bear club [see 01.02.16].
it felt a bit like cheating to join the new year's day plunge in 2016, as coney island was positively balmy that morning compared to early januaries past and since, but look: i was pretty goddamn cold anyway (it wasn't the ocean itself, it was the interminable waiting to run into the ocean that killed me; i felt much better afterward, what with the adrenaline and the beer. one member of our foursome, previously unknown to me, is now a semi-regular Political Yelling at Bars Companion of mine; another was already an ice-bath devotee and has since gone to poland and iceland to celebrate wim "the iceman" hof's cold-therapy method. pro tips: bring someone who doesn't want to strip down and jump in the water with you but is willing to watch your clothes and towel and give you someplace to run when you're staggering back like an idiot, and wear thick socks.
[054]: go camping [completed 09.16]
i have yet to attempt a trip that doesn't involve running an all-night trail relay race at the same time, but the running shouldn't invalidate the camping, should it? on that first soggy weekend in new jersey for ragnar trail wawayanda lake, the terrain was so muddy that i'd crash in my diminutive leopard-print tent (you're a goddamn wonder, apartment tent) with my feet through the flap, exposed to the rain. with four ragnars now under my belt, i think i'm ready at last for regular camping, but i'm bringing The Grim Runner (my little angel of death with a custom pink sweatband) anyway.
[058]: visit the new york botanical garden [see 08.09.16]
guessing it won't surprise you that i found my trip to see the corpse flower in 2016 significantly more exciting than a trip to see the holiday train show. what can i say? i like fake corpses and real trains, thanks.
[078]: run a (public) 10K [completed 12.15?]
i've lost count of 10Ks, but i know that at least five have been on flat, scenic, PR-friendly roosevelt island (which should be an easy ride on the F train, but in 2020 even i can admit that there are no more easy rides on the F train; now i usually get there via the tramway and traumatize fellow passengers with my Run Funk, unavoidable in such a small space). i remind my septuagenarian friend and fellow bookstore volunteer A, a former UN official and longtime island resident, that i am both protecting and stalking him via these 10Ks, and he seems pleased.
[087]: visit the new york city tenement museum [completed...i have no idea, i pass it like every day and i think i'm trying to forget the visit to protect myself]
what's nastier than a doll-sized tram over the east river when you've just finished a 10K? the new york city tenement museum between march and october. i love my neighborhood and i love that earnest grad students introduce it to tourists, but i'm tired of sharing the sidewalk with all of them. get out of here, butter.
[090]: beat my new york times sunday crossword time (18 min)
i'm down to 11:35, which is not too shabby! that said, i hadn't read a thing about the american crossword puzzle tournament before registering and booking a hotel room for it and—get this—genuinely thought i could roll up and win. tell my family i loved them.
[096]: go to the hamptons
i think we've aged out of the sharing-a-group-house-for-the-weekend stage of engaging with the hamptons, and that's for the best, as the lunch, shopping, and gas-stationing stops i've made en route to montauk and back have been less than inspirational. montauk i like very much, though i'm conscious of being the sort of summer person who's helped make it too expensive for families to vacation there in recent years, and i'm not prepared to pay several hundred dollars a night for a long weekend in a fashionably-upcycled motel. i have made my peace with this.
[098]: figure out a wall treatment for the kitchen
i bought a bunch of black oil paint pens a few years ago and have been late-night doodling from the floor up ever since. it is immensely satisfying.
[099]: visit three new-to-me states
kinda hazy on this one, but i know kentucky, louisiana, mississippi, missouri, and north carolina are all in there. it's like we have a car now or something!
*kevin has the best ideas: he also organized our Black Tie Bar Crawl a few years ago, when we all dressed up within an inch of our lives and hit la grenouille and the four seasons (RIP). we would have kept crawling, but when we got to the four seasons's bar and asked for glasses of champagne, they just...kept coming, and we hadn't had dinner, so we fled to sakagura for ballast. fun fact: joe and i had dinner at the four seasons (dressed less formally, as it happens) after getting legally hitched (prior to our proper oxford wedding) in 2006.
**i enjoyed "my so-karen life" so much that i went to follow the writer, sarah miller, on twitter—and discovered that she's been following me for some time, which made me feel like a million bucks. a solid reminder that i should be following liberally.
***a 900-person cruise ship is considered a small cruise ship: the largest liners in the world accommodate more than 6,000 passengers.
****full disclosure: i bought that blanket for the cats (who appreciate it as much as i do and are much better at napping).
original start date: 10 june 2012
original end date: 08 march 2015
items completed: 023
items remaining: 078
...and since then,
additional items completed: 14
[004]: visit pittsburgh [see 09.28.15]
boy howdy do we love the 'burgh: since that first fall trip in 2015, the missus and i have driven back out three more times. while item 014 ("visit mari in atlanta") is now impossible, she and her family are now PA-based, and we've taken down the great race (my all-time favorite 10K, a crowded but delightfully citywide thing) with them three times. ask for "pittsburgh, you're my kind of town" in my best springsteen growl if we see each other in person; it's even better than the songs i invent for the cats.
[026]: go to the opera [completed october 2015]
baby's first opera was tannhäuser at the met, and while an old-school, nearly-four-hour (plus three intermissions, as i recall) take on early wagner might not seem like the most intuitive call, the friend* who facilitated our extremely good seats (he used to represent performers and is tight with the folks who film and simulcast the met's performances in HD) also talked us through the teutonic shenanigans. we went on to see an utterly stunning magic flute at the teatro dell'opera di roma (i cried like a baby and got a moth tattoo a few days later, which was technically coincidental but still), and we've been back to the met with the same opera-ringer pal for pelléas et mélisande (debussy's only opera). i have worn the same thrifted balenciaga tent dress to all three, and, weirdly, have yet to wear the black velvet opera coat i found at a vintage store on our first trip to pittsburgh? guess we have to hit some more operas.
[031]: get my name printed in the new york times [completed 09.01.19]
my first and twitter names turned up as part of patricia lockwood's "live nude dads read the sunday paper" project, but that assembled poem was online-only, and c'mon, it's much more satisfying to have debuted thus. that was a journey: i convinced myself a dozen different times over the course of several months that the piece wouldn't run, despite universally supportive communication from my editor and joe's exhortations to, like, breathe into a paper bag and go to bed already. i have now accepted that it can't be taken away and am working on new pitches! the travel section would seem like the most natural fit, but i can't write for it, as i've taken press trips (which are strictly forbidden for its contributors). i considered a modern love writeup about the series of late-night DMs i got last summer from a guy who turned me down when i asked him to senior prom and wanted me to know a couple of decades later that he was wrong to have done so, but that seemed...fraught. inspired by "my so-karen life,"** i was thinking about rites of passage...which now seems to be on hiatus. that said, i am unfazed (and am also going to get off my ass and aim at the new yorker this year).
[039]: spend the night on a boat [see 08.25.17].
i've now hit the atlantic for CRESLI's three-day great south channel trip three years in a row and am addicted to both cetaceanspotting and turning in with the thrum of an engine under my belly and stars and spray on my back. that trio of trips was pretty bare-bones: i brought a sleeping bag, a plush peep, and a pillowcase, and i dragged my lumpy vinyl cot mattress up to the top deck of our temporarily-mostly-repurposed fishing boat as often as i could (every night but one so far, i think?). i love whale watching, but i also love the formal restrictions of spending extended time on a small vessel in unpredictable conditions; i love pelagic birds, a deck heaving under my flip-flops, brushing my teeth and spitting over the stern. joe has yet to join me on any of those trips, but he flew out as my plus-one for a working trip on a small ocean liner in northern europe last fall: we flew to berlin and spent a few days revisiting falafel and oktoberfest, then took a coach to rostock and swooped out for a week of danish and norwegian port-hopping. the jump from a craft with 60 passengers to one with 900*** is not insignificant, despite the prevalence of NPR enthusiasts on both in these cases: the latter was unquestionably a luxury cruise (with on-board history and astronomy pros, balconies and cashmere blankets for all, shitting-you-not edvard munch originals [on loan from museums] on the walls...you get the idea). i had never been on A Cruise, and i am not sorry i tried one; the peoplewatching was top-hole, and i appreciated the opportunity to snack on destinations we might like to revisit. the sleep quality, ironically, ended up being comparable to what i've experienced on my CRESLI trips, albeit for reasons at the other end of the spectrum: at one point i acquired a wool blanket that pleased me so well that i was too excited to nap.**** we are unlikely to take another cruise, but i would consider recommending one on that particular line to, say, my parents, if they were intent on that particular sort of trip. tl;dr: more (hopefully small and/or eco-friendly) boats in the '20s.
[043]: spend a night in the hudson valley [completed 09.18]
when did we first go to the hudson valley? have we met? what is time? joe reminds me that we drove out to hudson for the afternoon when we spent a long weekend in narrowsburg in the fall of 2015, and that we didn't actually spend the night there until september 2018, when we shared an airbnb with friends for basilica soundscape (a weekend music festival) and were accosted by an extremely friendly tuxedo cat whose tag announced him to be BLACK BAT. we headed back again on a road trip last may and stayed at tiger house, a former hunting lodge that was a b&b at the time (i think it's now closed?). i am exceedingly fond of spotty dog (a bookstore/bar) and BLACK BAT, obviously. we did not solve a murder mystery at tiger house and should probably buy it so we can fix that.
[046]: swim with the coney island polar bear club [see 01.02.16].
it felt a bit like cheating to join the new year's day plunge in 2016, as coney island was positively balmy that morning compared to early januaries past and since, but look: i was pretty goddamn cold anyway (it wasn't the ocean itself, it was the interminable waiting to run into the ocean that killed me; i felt much better afterward, what with the adrenaline and the beer. one member of our foursome, previously unknown to me, is now a semi-regular Political Yelling at Bars Companion of mine; another was already an ice-bath devotee and has since gone to poland and iceland to celebrate wim "the iceman" hof's cold-therapy method. pro tips: bring someone who doesn't want to strip down and jump in the water with you but is willing to watch your clothes and towel and give you someplace to run when you're staggering back like an idiot, and wear thick socks.
[054]: go camping [completed 09.16]
i have yet to attempt a trip that doesn't involve running an all-night trail relay race at the same time, but the running shouldn't invalidate the camping, should it? on that first soggy weekend in new jersey for ragnar trail wawayanda lake, the terrain was so muddy that i'd crash in my diminutive leopard-print tent (you're a goddamn wonder, apartment tent) with my feet through the flap, exposed to the rain. with four ragnars now under my belt, i think i'm ready at last for regular camping, but i'm bringing The Grim Runner (my little angel of death with a custom pink sweatband) anyway.
[058]: visit the new york botanical garden [see 08.09.16]
guessing it won't surprise you that i found my trip to see the corpse flower in 2016 significantly more exciting than a trip to see the holiday train show. what can i say? i like fake corpses and real trains, thanks.
[078]: run a (public) 10K [completed 12.15?]
i've lost count of 10Ks, but i know that at least five have been on flat, scenic, PR-friendly roosevelt island (which should be an easy ride on the F train, but in 2020 even i can admit that there are no more easy rides on the F train; now i usually get there via the tramway and traumatize fellow passengers with my Run Funk, unavoidable in such a small space). i remind my septuagenarian friend and fellow bookstore volunteer A, a former UN official and longtime island resident, that i am both protecting and stalking him via these 10Ks, and he seems pleased.
[087]: visit the new york city tenement museum [completed...i have no idea, i pass it like every day and i think i'm trying to forget the visit to protect myself]
what's nastier than a doll-sized tram over the east river when you've just finished a 10K? the new york city tenement museum between march and october. i love my neighborhood and i love that earnest grad students introduce it to tourists, but i'm tired of sharing the sidewalk with all of them. get out of here, butter.
[090]: beat my new york times sunday crossword time (18 min)
i'm down to 11:35, which is not too shabby! that said, i hadn't read a thing about the american crossword puzzle tournament before registering and booking a hotel room for it and—get this—genuinely thought i could roll up and win. tell my family i loved them.
[096]: go to the hamptons
i think we've aged out of the sharing-a-group-house-for-the-weekend stage of engaging with the hamptons, and that's for the best, as the lunch, shopping, and gas-stationing stops i've made en route to montauk and back have been less than inspirational. montauk i like very much, though i'm conscious of being the sort of summer person who's helped make it too expensive for families to vacation there in recent years, and i'm not prepared to pay several hundred dollars a night for a long weekend in a fashionably-upcycled motel. i have made my peace with this.
[098]: figure out a wall treatment for the kitchen
i bought a bunch of black oil paint pens a few years ago and have been late-night doodling from the floor up ever since. it is immensely satisfying.
[099]: visit three new-to-me states
kinda hazy on this one, but i know kentucky, louisiana, mississippi, missouri, and north carolina are all in there. it's like we have a car now or something!
*kevin has the best ideas: he also organized our Black Tie Bar Crawl a few years ago, when we all dressed up within an inch of our lives and hit la grenouille and the four seasons (RIP). we would have kept crawling, but when we got to the four seasons's bar and asked for glasses of champagne, they just...kept coming, and we hadn't had dinner, so we fled to sakagura for ballast. fun fact: joe and i had dinner at the four seasons (dressed less formally, as it happens) after getting legally hitched (prior to our proper oxford wedding) in 2006.
**i enjoyed "my so-karen life" so much that i went to follow the writer, sarah miller, on twitter—and discovered that she's been following me for some time, which made me feel like a million bucks. a solid reminder that i should be following liberally.
***a 900-person cruise ship is considered a small cruise ship: the largest liners in the world accommodate more than 6,000 passengers.
****full disclosure: i bought that blanket for the cats (who appreciate it as much as i do and are much better at napping).
01.01.20
2020: THE YEAR IN REVIEW
i zapped some of the vegetable dumplings i had the foresight to bring home on new year's eve.
i thought about running six miles and ran four miles.
i ran, emptied, and loaded the dishwasher a couple of times.
i entered a crossword puzzle tournament and booked a hotel for the weekend (hotel gal: "you kick butt in that tournament!").
i ate some of the blood orange bread pudding we made and flambéd last night.
i trimmed our little cat's claws.
i zapped some of the vegetable dumplings i had the foresight to bring home on new year's eve.
i thought about running six miles and ran four miles.
i ran, emptied, and loaded the dishwasher a couple of times.
i entered a crossword puzzle tournament and booked a hotel for the weekend (hotel gal: "you kick butt in that tournament!").
i ate some of the blood orange bread pudding we made and flambéd last night.
i trimmed our little cat's claws.
09.10.19
the next dirty dirty relay trail race is in like a month! i am not our team captain but i have decided to take the wheel on making shirts.
the dirty dozen {twelve youtube comments on dexys midnight runners' "come on eileen"}
01 I told my dad that the denim look was how I pictured all of the 70s/80s people, he said I was accurate but also told me to piss off
02 i can't wait for this dystopia where we all wear jean overalls
03 Always after me lucky charms.
04 I'm dedicating this song to my latest nurse Eileen.
05 "Me Too Ra, Too Ra, Too Ra Ay Era" doesn't quite have the same ring to it...
06 This song gets such huge airplay over Trader Joe's PA system.
07 Distinct Celtic pimp vibes with this
08 It's about being a catholic.
09 bros help bros. thats just what they do
10 Every time this song comes on, the rest of the prisoners laugh at me.
11 It has that Irish tone that makes people happy.
12 Better than that stalker Sting.
the dirty dozen {twelve youtube comments on dexys midnight runners' "come on eileen"}
01 I told my dad that the denim look was how I pictured all of the 70s/80s people, he said I was accurate but also told me to piss off
02 i can't wait for this dystopia where we all wear jean overalls
03 Always after me lucky charms.
04 I'm dedicating this song to my latest nurse Eileen.
05 "Me Too Ra, Too Ra, Too Ra Ay Era" doesn't quite have the same ring to it...
06 This song gets such huge airplay over Trader Joe's PA system.
07 Distinct Celtic pimp vibes with this
08 It's about being a catholic.
09 bros help bros. thats just what they do
10 Every time this song comes on, the rest of the prisoners laugh at me.
11 It has that Irish tone that makes people happy.
12 Better than that stalker Sting.
04.20.17
the dirty dozen {twelve things i cherished at our all-night trail-racing extravaganza in kentucky}
what's so goddamn essential to a camping-and-running trip that it's worth shoving into a suitcase and hauling all the way to la guardia, then to an airport hotel, then to a field outside fort knox? well. (as always, none of these links generate anything other than immaterial awesomeness.)
01 tzumi pocketjuice portable chargers. i bought one of these for my first ragnar in the fall and picked up two more before we headed out to kentucky this year, and what a boss call that was on my part. they're cheap ($15-$20), small, and powerful: each one will recharge a smartphone three times.
02 coleman flatwoods II 6-person dome tent. this bad boy packed down to 8.5"x8.5"x24", which was perfect for our larger suitcase (which also fit a sleeping bag, one of our inflatable pads, and a couple of my shrink-wrapped running outfits), and it rang in at under $100, which was a relief after the tents i priced at REI (which were light and sleek but scorchingly expensive). i would by no means attempt to squish six people into a tent of this size (the footprint is 10'x10'), but it housed joe, my sister, me, and our suitcases quite handily. bonus points for the front awning. my friend rachel, an accomplished car camper, suggested we spring for a big tent; as in all things, she was right.
03 nite ize radiant 400 led lantern. i'm still a little traumatized by the spectacular mess i made of our previous lantern by neglecting to take the batteries out after we loaded it up for superstorm irene several years ago; when i pulled it out for superstorm sandy a few years later, they had foamed up like rabid beasts and killed their host. this model was smaller and a bit less expensive than its predecessor, but it was bright, and our main source of light on the communal tarp between our tents. led light isn't always the sexiest light, but when you're digging around for a headlamp and/or a can of cider, it's awfully handy. speaking of sexy lights,
04 eno twilights led string lights. i valued these at our first ragnar because stringing them between our tents kept people from wandering through our campsite en route to the port-o-lets; i also valued them at this one, especially the purple set my friend melissa gave me when we got to kentucky, because they're damn sexy (and they made it easier to find everyone after night runs). i wanted to wrap a string of these around my body.
05 adidas adilette slides. i did not bring a pair of proper recovery sandals last time around—hell, i didn't bring a pair of flip flops last time around—and was forced to stay in my muddy running shoes for several extra hours after the race ended. i told myself that if i could find an only mildly offensive pair for sale in the gear tent, i could have them; reader, i could not. this time i acquired a pair of black-on-grey slides via ebay and was happy as a clam (joe, who requested and got a pair of the adissage slides, was not as comfortable; make sure you're really into that massage-nub footbed before you commit to it). i have only anecdotal evidence that loud, patterned pairs are more effective than the striped ones, but this evidence is compelling.
06 white pumpkin. a cornell horticulturist maintains that a healthy pumpkin picked from a disease-controlled field can last eight to 12 weeks; dottie in charlotte, in turn, told her gardenweb.com forum buddies back in october of '08 that she still had a white pumpkin purchased in '07. the one i acquired and brought to wawayanda lake was still going strong on a melamine plate in our foyer as i packed for kentucky, so i took it along, of course. after the race i kissed it goodbye and left it in the woods beyond the edge of our campsite; if a herd of feral pumpkins begins performing miracles across northern kentucky in a few months' time, you're welcome.
07 the believer, november/december 2007. when the believer and its cover art featuring 18 temporary tattoos (including a small bat with a POWER OF ATTORNEY motto and a portrait of ai weiwei in pigtails) turned up at ye olde charity bookstore, i knew it had to be mine (and my team's). ten-year-old temporary tattoos don't age nearly as gracefully as yearling white pumpkins do, and the gas can (BE MY CO-DEFENDANT) i applied to my neck looked rather like an unfortunate sun incident after a few hours, but it inspired me to apply one of the ragnar tattoos included in our welcome packet, and that was properly lurid. joe made me scrub it off at our airbnb on sunday. "you look like a gang member."
08 kossar's assorted rugelach. (see also: kossar's mini black and white cookies and babka.) kossar's is the oldest operating bialy bakery in the united states (since 1936), and it's been making grand street fatter since 1960. bialys don't travel especially well, but the aforementioned desserts just love the road; i pick them up en route to the airport, as should anyone who visits new york city, really.
09 ticla camp hero tarp/blanket. what sort of douchebag pays $50 or more for a stripey hipster tarp/blanket? this kind, though mine was part of the goodie bag from a fancy camping press event at the ace hotel a few years ago (yeah, yeah). ticla (whose "don't camp ugly" slogan moved me, i'll admit it) folded more than a year ago, but its pretty gear is worth stalking on ebay (i'm kind of tempted to pull the trigger on that link myself, truth be told). the tarp in question has been a solid teammate at picnics, the beach, and campsites, and it handles machine washing and drying like a pro. it also makes a great cape, obviously. blue plastic tarps are fine, but the camp hero is, well, you know.
10 REI evrgrn lowboy lantern. like the camp hero, the delightfully squishy evrgrn lowboy (its cover is made of silicone, and i make everyone at my campsite touch it) has gone the way of the giant banana; that said, i love you and i want you to know how important it is to cherish any evrgrn products and/or kawaii lanterns that might cross your path one day. maybe your local REI has a bunch of dead stock, who knows?
11 cidergeist bubbles rosé cider. a beer after a long run is nice. a cider after a long run is poetry.
12 s'well 17-oz insulated stainless steel bottle. who knew my trusty gym-hydration buddy could keep communal coffee hot for 12 hours? sarah kauss (who happens to head the fastest-growing woman-owned company in the country), that's who. triples as an excellent way to spirit pre-mixed aviations into central park for an evening of shakespeare.
what's so goddamn essential to a camping-and-running trip that it's worth shoving into a suitcase and hauling all the way to la guardia, then to an airport hotel, then to a field outside fort knox? well. (as always, none of these links generate anything other than immaterial awesomeness.)
01 tzumi pocketjuice portable chargers. i bought one of these for my first ragnar in the fall and picked up two more before we headed out to kentucky this year, and what a boss call that was on my part. they're cheap ($15-$20), small, and powerful: each one will recharge a smartphone three times.
02 coleman flatwoods II 6-person dome tent. this bad boy packed down to 8.5"x8.5"x24", which was perfect for our larger suitcase (which also fit a sleeping bag, one of our inflatable pads, and a couple of my shrink-wrapped running outfits), and it rang in at under $100, which was a relief after the tents i priced at REI (which were light and sleek but scorchingly expensive). i would by no means attempt to squish six people into a tent of this size (the footprint is 10'x10'), but it housed joe, my sister, me, and our suitcases quite handily. bonus points for the front awning. my friend rachel, an accomplished car camper, suggested we spring for a big tent; as in all things, she was right.
03 nite ize radiant 400 led lantern. i'm still a little traumatized by the spectacular mess i made of our previous lantern by neglecting to take the batteries out after we loaded it up for superstorm irene several years ago; when i pulled it out for superstorm sandy a few years later, they had foamed up like rabid beasts and killed their host. this model was smaller and a bit less expensive than its predecessor, but it was bright, and our main source of light on the communal tarp between our tents. led light isn't always the sexiest light, but when you're digging around for a headlamp and/or a can of cider, it's awfully handy. speaking of sexy lights,
04 eno twilights led string lights. i valued these at our first ragnar because stringing them between our tents kept people from wandering through our campsite en route to the port-o-lets; i also valued them at this one, especially the purple set my friend melissa gave me when we got to kentucky, because they're damn sexy (and they made it easier to find everyone after night runs). i wanted to wrap a string of these around my body.
05 adidas adilette slides. i did not bring a pair of proper recovery sandals last time around—hell, i didn't bring a pair of flip flops last time around—and was forced to stay in my muddy running shoes for several extra hours after the race ended. i told myself that if i could find an only mildly offensive pair for sale in the gear tent, i could have them; reader, i could not. this time i acquired a pair of black-on-grey slides via ebay and was happy as a clam (joe, who requested and got a pair of the adissage slides, was not as comfortable; make sure you're really into that massage-nub footbed before you commit to it). i have only anecdotal evidence that loud, patterned pairs are more effective than the striped ones, but this evidence is compelling.
06 white pumpkin. a cornell horticulturist maintains that a healthy pumpkin picked from a disease-controlled field can last eight to 12 weeks; dottie in charlotte, in turn, told her gardenweb.com forum buddies back in october of '08 that she still had a white pumpkin purchased in '07. the one i acquired and brought to wawayanda lake was still going strong on a melamine plate in our foyer as i packed for kentucky, so i took it along, of course. after the race i kissed it goodbye and left it in the woods beyond the edge of our campsite; if a herd of feral pumpkins begins performing miracles across northern kentucky in a few months' time, you're welcome.
07 the believer, november/december 2007. when the believer and its cover art featuring 18 temporary tattoos (including a small bat with a POWER OF ATTORNEY motto and a portrait of ai weiwei in pigtails) turned up at ye olde charity bookstore, i knew it had to be mine (and my team's). ten-year-old temporary tattoos don't age nearly as gracefully as yearling white pumpkins do, and the gas can (BE MY CO-DEFENDANT) i applied to my neck looked rather like an unfortunate sun incident after a few hours, but it inspired me to apply one of the ragnar tattoos included in our welcome packet, and that was properly lurid. joe made me scrub it off at our airbnb on sunday. "you look like a gang member."
08 kossar's assorted rugelach. (see also: kossar's mini black and white cookies and babka.) kossar's is the oldest operating bialy bakery in the united states (since 1936), and it's been making grand street fatter since 1960. bialys don't travel especially well, but the aforementioned desserts just love the road; i pick them up en route to the airport, as should anyone who visits new york city, really.
09 ticla camp hero tarp/blanket. what sort of douchebag pays $50 or more for a stripey hipster tarp/blanket? this kind, though mine was part of the goodie bag from a fancy camping press event at the ace hotel a few years ago (yeah, yeah). ticla (whose "don't camp ugly" slogan moved me, i'll admit it) folded more than a year ago, but its pretty gear is worth stalking on ebay (i'm kind of tempted to pull the trigger on that link myself, truth be told). the tarp in question has been a solid teammate at picnics, the beach, and campsites, and it handles machine washing and drying like a pro. it also makes a great cape, obviously. blue plastic tarps are fine, but the camp hero is, well, you know.
10 REI evrgrn lowboy lantern. like the camp hero, the delightfully squishy evrgrn lowboy (its cover is made of silicone, and i make everyone at my campsite touch it) has gone the way of the giant banana; that said, i love you and i want you to know how important it is to cherish any evrgrn products and/or kawaii lanterns that might cross your path one day. maybe your local REI has a bunch of dead stock, who knows?
11 cidergeist bubbles rosé cider. a beer after a long run is nice. a cider after a long run is poetry.
12 s'well 17-oz insulated stainless steel bottle. who knew my trusty gym-hydration buddy could keep communal coffee hot for 12 hours? sarah kauss (who happens to head the fastest-growing woman-owned company in the country), that's who. triples as an excellent way to spirit pre-mixed aviations into central park for an evening of shakespeare.
04.10.17
the longest, darkest leg of my kentucky relay race started out quite nicely. i received the team bib from my college roommate at around two in the morning, barreled through a grove of red cedars and past an abandoned shack with a NIGHTMARE FOREST banner, and felt my lungs opening up to the blackness in a way they'd refused to do for my early-evening leg on the bluffs above the ohio river. then, around mile two or so, a second dinner: my left toe caught a root and i went down, hard, on my left hand and right knee (diminutive head lamp and nearly-forty-year-old eyes, you're not always a match for technical running in the wee hours). i assured the runner who passed me as i got back up—one of just four i met on the trail—that i was fine, and he said he'd done the same thing a mile back. i shook off my surprise, stuck to a trot for the next mile or so to give my heart a bit of time to quit galloping from the pain, and imagined my beloved owls at the bird hospital. my thoughts contract at that hour in manhattan, and they tighten even more when i'm watching and listening for unexpected company in NIGHTMARE FOREST. this race lacked the otherworldly rain that made the woods in new jersey feel like the upside down, but it condensed me in a way that was incredibly reassuring; there's a moonbather for every sunbather if you know where to look (it's no accident that "tonight, tonight" makes all the ragnar village playlists). i gave the bib to my sister at half past three, limped back to our campsite, and wet-wiped away the dirt and blood i was able to see by lanternlight. our coffee was frozen over in the morning. it was fucking great.
04.02.17
on thursday evening the missus and i will fly out to louisville with suitcases full of tents, sleeping bags, fairy lights, and synthetic clothing. i'm doing another two-day trail relay race in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, and this time i'm the team captain? this means that we are kind of brontë-themed (we call ourselves WUTHERING HURTS, and the shirts my friends melissa, ben, and i dreamed up for us have edward gorey-ish lettering and feature cathy and heathcliff wearing head lamps), that we are all staying together in a riverside airbnb loft after the race, that i'm bringing along temporary tattoos from an old issue of the believer, and that i'm going to try to figure out how to smuggle fireworks, again. i know everyone on this team very well, and i know we'll have a marvelous time (bonfires! sleep deprivation! running in the dark!), but i'm still incandescent with nerves. i dyed my hair lavender last night in an attempt to screw my head on straight and i think it helped. i also bought an iron-on set of bear teeth to award to the runner that reaches BEAST MODE most decisively.
12.17.16
i got an email yesterday afternoon:
i woke up before my alarm this morning, as one does, with the cat draped over the back of my neck like a travel pillow. the other cat, wedged against joe beneath the covers, legs extended, brushed my chest with a paw every now and again as he kneaded in his sleep. i walked out to the living room, where the tail end of friday night, heavy as a candle snuffer, refused saturday morning. i'd never raced in the snow before. i tore into a new bag of coffee and watched the cats expect the sun over brooklyn.
a few minutes after six, another email:
1: i hope you weren't already on the train! (i started coffee, but am going back to bed; glad i didn't pick up those bad shirts)
2: I was in bed thinking about how to stay warm :) I refuse to say 'worrying'
2: Is 'wears shirt from canceled event' not goth?
i reconvened Team Bed, went back to sleep, and ran 10K by myself this afternoon.
NYCRUNS is currently closely monitoring tomorrow's forecast in conjunction with our medical team, but we do not expect to make any decisions regarding weather-related changes to the race until approximately 6:30AM. If any changes are to take place, you will be emailed and our Facebook page will be updated with all the info you'll need to know. Thank you for your patience.i headed down to paragon sports after my shift at the bird hospital to pick up bibs and shirts. the only tees (ugh, why not tech shirts?) left were super-huge, but we could wait and pick up smaller sizes at the race, we were assured. i got that email about the weather—do you think the race will be called off? "there's almost no chance of that," the bib gal said.
i woke up before my alarm this morning, as one does, with the cat draped over the back of my neck like a travel pillow. the other cat, wedged against joe beneath the covers, legs extended, brushed my chest with a paw every now and again as he kneaded in his sleep. i walked out to the living room, where the tail end of friday night, heavy as a candle snuffer, refused saturday morning. i'd never raced in the snow before. i tore into a new bag of coffee and watched the cats expect the sun over brooklyn.
a few minutes after six, another email:
In partnership with our partners on Roosevelt Island and in the interest of your safety and that of our volunteers and staff, we are cancelling today's event. There will be no bib or shirt pick-up or runner services of any kind today. Please do not come to the event site.1: um, i guess we're not meeting?
1: i hope you weren't already on the train! (i started coffee, but am going back to bed; glad i didn't pick up those bad shirts)
2: I was in bed thinking about how to stay warm :) I refuse to say 'worrying'
2: Is 'wears shirt from canceled event' not goth?
i reconvened Team Bed, went back to sleep, and ran 10K by myself this afternoon.
12.16.16
tomorrow i'll run my seventh and final race of the year, my third around roosevelt island. why roosevelt island, especially when the route never takes me past the smallpox hospital (the best part)? i like to think that racing there over and over is a good way to track my improvement (though i don't seem to be improving much; i need to pick things up if i'm to be a plausible team captain in april). i tell my friend A, a long-retired UN worker who volunteers with me at ye olde charity bookstore, that i'm guarding his apartment out there. "you picked a good day for it," he said this past week. "with the wind that whistles down along the river, it should feel a good ten to twenty degrees colder than it actually is." i'm fairly sure i forgot to throw away the frumpy, broken-zippered vest i bought for winter training a few years ago, and the loud thermal tights i ordered a month there finally showed up today. in your eye, polar vortex.
i read a few weeks ago that mick jagger runs eight miles a day when he's training for a tour. it never occurred to me to wonder what he's fleeing; i feel certain he's chasing someone.
i read a few weeks ago that mick jagger runs eight miles a day when he's training for a tour. it never occurred to me to wonder what he's fleeing; i feel certain he's chasing someone.
Mick Jagger once boasted that 'I’d rather be dead than still singing ‘Satisfaction’ when I’m forty-five.' But now he’s over sixty and still singing 'Satisfaction.' Some people might find this funny, but not me. When he was young, Mick Jagger couldn’t imagine himself at forty-five. When I was young, I was the same. Can I laugh at Mick Jagger? No way. I just happen not to be a young rock singer. Nobody remembers what stupid things I might have said back then, so they’re not about to quote them back at me. That’s the only difference.
(haruki murakami, what i talk about when i talk about running)
12.08.16
the dirty dozen {twelve indispensable things}
(nb: i have no financial interest in anything on this list, and none of these links are monetized. consider this comparing notes on consumption.)
01 nuun nutrient-enhanced drink tabs. my friend dave dissolved one of his nuun tablets in a glass of water for me the night before we ran the lake placid half marathon, and we definitely heard a bear when we were sitting out on the porch, so i'm pretty sure the vita-drinks saved us. nuun was free at the relay race we ran a week or two later in new jersey, and i consumed it like it was my job; while other teams saw bears, all of my legs were uneventful. nuun: is tasty and good for you, probably repels bears.*
02 lush lord of misrule shower cream. i buy a couple of big bottles of this stuff each halloween and hoard it for bubble baths all year long. turns water witch-green, smells like glamorous evil (anise and peppercorns, with a hint of vanilla and a soupçon of ironic patchouli).
03 baggu duck bag. i have carried one of these in leopard print every day** for the past six months. it fits everything (and has a little interior pocket for metrocards and plastic animals). speaking of,
04 schleich animal figurines. lee's (RIP), the wonderful art shop next door to my first magazine-lady office, kept me out of trouble when i was waiting for copy, supplied me with materials for eight jillion projects, produced our wedding invitations, and had a fantastic children's section full of marvelously detailed little german animals, which is why i've been carrying creatures around for the last decade and change. schleich has a horse club (and a horse advent calendar). they make six different elephant figurines. they are the shit.
05 burt's bees red dahlia tinted lip balm. i can apply it all day and not look like a maniac if i use way too much, and it works whether my hair is red, pink, or malfoy-blonde. smells good, too.
06 burt's bees pink grapefruit facial cleansing towelettes. you can bring them in carry-on luggage, and they're great for swiping bleach and dye away from your skin. not sure how this became about my hair, or about burt's bees (but on the latter, at least, they have solid sustainability goals, they source responsibly, and they don't test their products on animals; i appreciate all of that).
07 the new york times daily crossword app. my crossword subscription is not cheap; i suspect, in fact, that i pay more for it than we do for our digital subscription to the paper. that said, it keeps track of solve times far more accurately than our microwave did and plays a delightfully old-farty piano riff when one finishes a puzzle.
08 sturgill simpson, a sailor's guide to earth. our friends lesley and cody's son was born this summer; we made them a shepherd's pie, per their request, and i've been trying to figure out what else i want to bring over. i realized a few weeks ago that i need to bring them this record (framed as a sailor's letter home to his wife and son; simpson's own son was born two summers ago). joe and i have been sturgill simpson fans—pretty rabid, in joe's case—for a few years now, and after watching him blow the roof off of kings theatre in brooklyn this october, i'm getting there as well. if you don't know him yet, ease yourself in with his cover of when in rome's "the promise;" if you're prepared to take a flyer on some alt-alt-country, do.
09 minicyn sterling silver faceted stud earrings. these studs have spent more time in the field than any other fripperies i've owned, and given how long i had a barbell in my face and a ring in my navel, that's saying something. handmade, ethically-sourced, ultra-simple jewelry: i guess paris can get a thing or two right after all.
10 we are handsome sports bras. i acquired a t-back betta-print bra via a flash sale a few months ago and have ordered two more in the interim; they are so fierce, so no-nonsense, so unlikely to go to pieces in the laundry (looking at you and your weird pads, under armour). fitness gear can be stylish or functional or inexpensive, but it is so rarely all three; we are handsome (on sale), i salute you. (i'd happily pay full price for their stuff at this point, to be honest, particularly in the big-cat prints.)
11 s'well stainless steel bottles. the bottles' mouths are large enough to clean without drama and the finish, at least on my 'teakwood' version, is durable enough that i regularly ignore the no-dishwasher instructions (shh); the company supports UNICEF and american forests, and the 17-oz size is perfect for throwing in a backpack.
12 barkthins dark chocolate pretzel with sea salt snacking chocolate. "snacking chocolate" is a clunky term, but it actually makes sense in this case; i keep a single-serving pouch of this stuff at the bottom of most of my bags for when i forget to eat and discover that i want to, say, tear my fellow volunteers limb from limb. i consider fair trade, non-GMO chocolate superior to the candy bars i used to buy from the vending machine at my office (those "snickers really satisfies" commercials did a number on my subconscious back in the day, apparently).
*that said, i'd like to see bears.
**unless i'm wearing a leopard-print shirt; i'm not a monster.
(nb: i have no financial interest in anything on this list, and none of these links are monetized. consider this comparing notes on consumption.)
01 nuun nutrient-enhanced drink tabs. my friend dave dissolved one of his nuun tablets in a glass of water for me the night before we ran the lake placid half marathon, and we definitely heard a bear when we were sitting out on the porch, so i'm pretty sure the vita-drinks saved us. nuun was free at the relay race we ran a week or two later in new jersey, and i consumed it like it was my job; while other teams saw bears, all of my legs were uneventful. nuun: is tasty and good for you, probably repels bears.*
02 lush lord of misrule shower cream. i buy a couple of big bottles of this stuff each halloween and hoard it for bubble baths all year long. turns water witch-green, smells like glamorous evil (anise and peppercorns, with a hint of vanilla and a soupçon of ironic patchouli).
03 baggu duck bag. i have carried one of these in leopard print every day** for the past six months. it fits everything (and has a little interior pocket for metrocards and plastic animals). speaking of,
04 schleich animal figurines. lee's (RIP), the wonderful art shop next door to my first magazine-lady office, kept me out of trouble when i was waiting for copy, supplied me with materials for eight jillion projects, produced our wedding invitations, and had a fantastic children's section full of marvelously detailed little german animals, which is why i've been carrying creatures around for the last decade and change. schleich has a horse club (and a horse advent calendar). they make six different elephant figurines. they are the shit.
05 burt's bees red dahlia tinted lip balm. i can apply it all day and not look like a maniac if i use way too much, and it works whether my hair is red, pink, or malfoy-blonde. smells good, too.
06 burt's bees pink grapefruit facial cleansing towelettes. you can bring them in carry-on luggage, and they're great for swiping bleach and dye away from your skin. not sure how this became about my hair, or about burt's bees (but on the latter, at least, they have solid sustainability goals, they source responsibly, and they don't test their products on animals; i appreciate all of that).
07 the new york times daily crossword app. my crossword subscription is not cheap; i suspect, in fact, that i pay more for it than we do for our digital subscription to the paper. that said, it keeps track of solve times far more accurately than our microwave did and plays a delightfully old-farty piano riff when one finishes a puzzle.
08 sturgill simpson, a sailor's guide to earth. our friends lesley and cody's son was born this summer; we made them a shepherd's pie, per their request, and i've been trying to figure out what else i want to bring over. i realized a few weeks ago that i need to bring them this record (framed as a sailor's letter home to his wife and son; simpson's own son was born two summers ago). joe and i have been sturgill simpson fans—pretty rabid, in joe's case—for a few years now, and after watching him blow the roof off of kings theatre in brooklyn this october, i'm getting there as well. if you don't know him yet, ease yourself in with his cover of when in rome's "the promise;" if you're prepared to take a flyer on some alt-alt-country, do.
09 minicyn sterling silver faceted stud earrings. these studs have spent more time in the field than any other fripperies i've owned, and given how long i had a barbell in my face and a ring in my navel, that's saying something. handmade, ethically-sourced, ultra-simple jewelry: i guess paris can get a thing or two right after all.
10 we are handsome sports bras. i acquired a t-back betta-print bra via a flash sale a few months ago and have ordered two more in the interim; they are so fierce, so no-nonsense, so unlikely to go to pieces in the laundry (looking at you and your weird pads, under armour). fitness gear can be stylish or functional or inexpensive, but it is so rarely all three; we are handsome (on sale), i salute you. (i'd happily pay full price for their stuff at this point, to be honest, particularly in the big-cat prints.)
11 s'well stainless steel bottles. the bottles' mouths are large enough to clean without drama and the finish, at least on my 'teakwood' version, is durable enough that i regularly ignore the no-dishwasher instructions (shh); the company supports UNICEF and american forests, and the 17-oz size is perfect for throwing in a backpack.
12 barkthins dark chocolate pretzel with sea salt snacking chocolate. "snacking chocolate" is a clunky term, but it actually makes sense in this case; i keep a single-serving pouch of this stuff at the bottom of most of my bags for when i forget to eat and discover that i want to, say, tear my fellow volunteers limb from limb. i consider fair trade, non-GMO chocolate superior to the candy bars i used to buy from the vending machine at my office (those "snickers really satisfies" commercials did a number on my subconscious back in the day, apparently).
*that said, i'd like to see bears.
**unless i'm wearing a leopard-print shirt; i'm not a monster.
09.17.16
i printed out a september calendar, wrote in each of my deadlines, each of my races (four this month, why?), and felt like a functional human adult; then i managed to convince myself that we were supposed to drive to pittsburgh this weekend instead of next weekend and it all went to hell. actually it's been alright; i got a lot of work done on monday and tuesday because i was panicking about leaving town. the panicking wasn't the best, but i'm getting around to accepting that being a freelancer, for me, at least, means feeling queasy most of the time.
i've decided that the only way to approach the last race of the month, a relay in northern new jersey, is to buy really obscure camping gear; i'm vacillating between a marlboro sleeping bag and a david bowie throw blanket (really, how cold is it going to be in new jersey at the end of the month?). said obscure camping gear will come with me to washington in january when we head down for the inauguration, which seemed like an adventure when we bought train tickets a few months ago and is now contributing to my queasiness. such queasiness! time for my saturday run.
i've decided that the only way to approach the last race of the month, a relay in northern new jersey, is to buy really obscure camping gear; i'm vacillating between a marlboro sleeping bag and a david bowie throw blanket (really, how cold is it going to be in new jersey at the end of the month?). said obscure camping gear will come with me to washington in january when we head down for the inauguration, which seemed like an adventure when we bought train tickets a few months ago and is now contributing to my queasiness. such queasiness! time for my saturday run.
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