Tick Tick What?

Yesterday they took down the massive tree over at the Rockefeller Centre. Today, as I walked to the subway, the empty dark space in the sky made it official - we are in 2013. The people who thought they could read Mayan calendars were wrong and there is no going back to 2012.

Wait, no, wait! I'm not done with 2012. I still want to mull over it a touch. I want to look it over and dance out the good times. I want to take a moment and remember it. Wanna hear it? Here it goes:

1. I spent my year listening to a LOT of NPR. A LOT. And it was fantastic. For all I thought I learnt, there was always so much much to know and be amazed by. 
2. During the first half of the year, I did quite a bit of running. I joined a running class and made some fantastic friends. Unexpected bonus! Who knew that while running so hard you can't talk, a bond can be made, a bond that is cemented by a heaving-breath, silent high five?
3. I had my first stint as a rabbit! It was AH-MAY-ZING!There I was, waiting at a little before the 7 mile mark, waiting for my new running class buddy to come by. I was nervous as heck - she had asked me to help her attain a goal time and I, who had never done this before, wanted to make sure I didn't mess up. There were so many runners that I was afraid I might not see her. Also, there were cops about and I did not want to get busted for jumping into the race like a bandit. She came up and off we went. As we ran, I could not stop smiling - her effort and resolved were incredibly inspiring. And she made her goal time! A month later, she repaid the favour - without her I don't know how I would have made it up that last hill in the race.
4. I ran my fastest half marathon and it was in Brooklyn, my home turf. Helloooo Brooklyn! 
5. Granted, I spent a week in hospital, had my stomach operated on AGAIN, but the views from my hospital room were incredible and the hospital folk took excellent care of me. 
6. My, then future, mother-in-law came to take care of me after my hospital stay (hidef had to travel for work). We spent 10 days together and, during that time, she shared parts of her life that hidef didn't even know about. It was a quality time.
7. I spent Christmas with my mother and sister! I had not done this since 2003, when my father passed away. It was so joyous to celebrate a non-orphan holiday.
8. I got married! What fun the wedding was and how great marriage is now. It's funny - we were having a ball living in sin and we are still having a ball now even though we are no longer edgy sinful bad-asses.
9. I danced, and danced, and danced some more. That ALWAYS makes life better. ALWAYS. How can one be mad while dancing to music? 
10. Even though I did not share my stories as much as I would have liked, I was still very lucky to have about me blog friends like  Dodo, Prettylyf, Oscar and El Editor, and other new ones I came across. When sanity threatened to forsake me and when things looked bleak, I went to them and they renewed my hope and belief in thoughtfulness, beauty, art and a celebration of life.

 Look at that! That's not even a tenth of the great things that happened to me last year and it all seems really darn awesome. Now I'm ready.

2013, let's do this thing.

Having the Time of Your Life...

So, what have I been up to lately? Living my life like an ABBA song... or three! On December 9th, Hidef and I said I Do, I Do, I Do to each other and it truly was one of the happiest days of my life. From beginning to end, I could not stop smiling - even during the moments where I got a little (or a lot) choked up. I still have to pinch myself - I can't believe that Hidef and I found each other. Plus, our families got along as though they had always known each other - bonus!
It is no secret that I love to dance. How can anything be bad if you have dance? If it is, then you aren't really dancing. We danced. We really danced! And it was the best. I truly was a Dancing Queen and then some and I was on the arm of the most fun Dancing King in the world. Going into this, he was not so sure about the dancing thing. Now we shall dance the rest of our lives together.

Brooklyn, We Go Hard!

 

It was quite the journey to get to this point - the point where I ran the Brooklyn Half Marathon, back in May. I travelled back in time, through my archives to the first time I didn't run in Miami. Many things have changed and a lot has remained the same. I had a day when I had a post race photo that was not a nightmare to behold. It is funny because it is one of the most difficult races I have ever run (the hills of San Francisco will do that to you) and yet somehow the photos make me look as though I was having the best time ever.

I was very excited about running the Brooklyn Half - Brooklyn is where I live and Brooklyn is where I love. I wanted to run it last year but found myself in hospital, with a tube up my nose, during the race registration. I came out to find that the race was full and I was going to miss it. This year, I checked the website like I had OCD and, I was not alone. Once the race opened, the website crashed often because it was overwhelmed by the masses that tried to register for the race. Apparently there are many who opt to experience Brooklyn through blood, sweat and tears.

As I mentioned, there are things that have changed and things that have remained the same:

1. 13.1 miles is still a long way to run. Heck, 5 kilometres is a long way to run. Whether I run 100 metres or 13.1 miles I am exhausted at the end of it. How does that make sense?
2. It doesn't matter how many porta-potties there are, they will always come with super long lines and will always gross me out. I mean, seriously, who thought it would be smart to put the urinal right where your face goes if you need to use the toilet?
3. I ALWAYS need to pee before a race. It doesn't matter how many times I go before I leave home, I need to go just before the race starts. Sometimes more than once. It is probably because the gods know how much I hate the porta-potties and they need a good early morning laugh.
4.  My knees are more amenable about running. Thank you knees. On the other hand, my hips and feet are considering a mutiny.
5. Post race cocktails rock. Did I ever tell you about the beer I got as I crossed the finish line at the Chicago Marathon? Best idea ever, race planners, and an idea that needs to make the rounds.
6. I still have not run New York and now, due to the adventures with a scalpel that happened in my belly in June, it is very likely that I will not get to run New York this year. I am still trying to come to terms with that. Yes, I am trying to come to terms with the fact that I won't get to struggle while running 26.2 hilly miles. What is wrong with me?
7. It doesn't matter how much skin you cover with bodyglide, chafing will still find a way to make an appearance. Between your toes, right where your bra goes or under your arms, it will find that one spot that you missed.
8. As unexciting as talking about running seems, even while you are doing it, you will find yourself doing it. 
9. I love to run when I travel. I make it a point to get out and go for a run whenever I am some place new. I am going slowly enough that I can see things and yet quickly enough that I get to cover a decent amount of ground.
10. It doesn't happen all the time but, sometimes, I have a moment when everything is right - my stride feels good, whatever is playing on my iPod is lifting my spirits, the weather is perfect, the air is being kind to my lungs and the scenery is engaging. It is the best feeling ever and, anyone who sees me at that moment must think either that running is amazing or that I must be insane. Well, the nervous smiles they give me implies "insane".

It was a beautiful and sunny day, the kind of day that is perfect for a picnic and can be a killer for running. But no matter, we were running Brooklyn (even as I type I yell Brooklyn! in my head)! It was beautiful. It was awesome. To be able to run down streets that are normally congested with people rushing nowhere is a feeling I am yet to tire of. To run through the various neighbourhoods and have the people I live with out cheering me on is heartwarming. To finish on the Coney Island boardwalk, with the Atlantic Ocean stretching out into infinity is something I want to do again. Oh yes, and I managed to run my fastest time ever and, if you are going to do that, isn't it best to do it at home? So, yes Brooklyn, I did go hard. But I am also glad I have a year to psych myself up for this again.

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

I do realise that, at this point, almost everyone would consider us quite firmly in 2012. It is the beginning of March tomorrow, after all. You know what else I realise? I realise that this is my space, my spot, my domain and so I can live in the past if that is my wish. Right now that is my wish. I feel that I did not give 2011 the sendoff and recognition it deserves.

We have New Year pomp and circumstance and it is all about making resolutions about all the things you must do in the new year to be bigger, better, faster (or in the age of the eternal diet perhaps I should say smaller?) And yet, we do not take the time to say farewell to the year past and to look at the glorious things that happened in that year. Don't folk get tired of picking at themselves, seeking what is wrong and what they need to improve on? It's time to look and love!

2011! Thank you!

• I went to New Orleans Jazz Fest. It was New Orleans so the food was delicious. It was Jazz Fest, in New Orleans, so the music was glorious. To cap it all off, Hidef proposed and that was just perfect!
• I survived a 5-day stay in the hospital. Granted, I did miss our Super Bowl party but I did get to see what an emergency room looks like in real life. The nurses were wonderful and did right by me.
• I went to Austin, Texas, and ran a in a 5 km race. I came second in my age group! Whenever I run in New York, even when I run faster than I ran in Texas, I am lucky to place in the top 50 in my age group. So, yeah, I was pretty pleased to do that well without having to trip anyone up.
• I went to Niagara Falls. I had not been in Canada since I was 6 years old and had never been to Niagara Falls. I cheered my friends on as they ran a most scenic race.
• I renewed my relationship with my incredible 3 year old cousin and his mom. What a light that has brought into our world. He is smart and funny and helps me see the world in new ways. Bonus - he calls me Big Pandave. The looks we get when we're out and about are priceless.
• My brother graduated college! My mother came to visit and I spent a summer surrounded by family from far and wide. I have three siblings and none of us live in the same state. My sister lives in a different country on a different continent. My cousins are spread out far and wide. To have a family moment is something that really cannot be put into words. Naturally, there are moments when you want to strangle them but who better to strangle than family? They understand. Oh and my family is growing too - I now have extra family via Hidef and that's welcome too.
• I smiled, a lot. Smiling and laughing are really awesome and infectious and, if you are going to resolve to do something, that's a good thing to resolve to do.
• Oh and dancing. Always with the dancing. Have you ever danced the second line in New Orleans? Have you ever rocked out in your home, when it's just you and inhibitions have been shown out? Have you ever just danced and danced and danced? I did and I did it often. And I still wished I could do it more. Music and dancing are things I can't live without.
• I fell off the wagon several times but I always came back to my writing.

There are so many other incredible and amazing things that happened. I ran races, I hung out with friends, I travelled with Hidef and went to new and old places and spaces. I fought my fear of heights and walked over boulders. I never conquered my fear of rodents but, so far, they have not given me a heart attack. Oh I see them trying, running across my path and staring at me without fear. And I can't lie, I tell myself I shall react better but I just yell and flea. Maybe one day I'll be brave. But for now I give a water toast to 2011 (I am at work so the glass of wine will have to wait) and I say - 2011 I lived you!

I am amazing and I love super and I resolve only to keep on being me!! Look out 2012, I'm ready for you now.

What I Wanna Do Right Now Is Go Back...

my aunt.  a little background here.  in 2000, after an awesome celebration of the new millennium, i moved to the united states.  i flew in to boston and moved in with my brother in worcester, the armpit of massachusetts.  i was embarking on a completely new phase in my life and i had the option to start it wherever i pleased.  the story of how new york ended up being the choice is another story but it includes a bus ride to new york, on the invitation of an uncle who lived in new jersey.  he believed that new york was the best place for me to find work, so i had agreed to spend the weekend with him so he could convince me.  the bus arrived at the port authority as i stepped off the bus, i was overwhelmed by the hugeness of the place.  there were so many buses and doors and people.  oh and it was nighttime on a friday night.  i looked around and had no idea how i was expected to find anyone.  i stood around for a bit.  nothing.  i found a pay phone and tried to call my uncle.  voicemail.  i waited a little longer and tried to call him again.  voicemail.  this cycle was repeated until a couple of hours had gone by and i was out of quarters.  what was i to do.

although the port authority of 2000 was a much friendlier place than the port authority of 1990, it was still a rather intimidating space for a jenny-come-lately with no sense of direction and no plan b.  what was i to do?  i sat at the top of one of many stairwells and tried to come up with an idea.  a young man walked up to me and asked me what i was doing.  according to him, he had seen me and could tell that i was in trouble - i looked very confused.  i explained that i had run out of quarters, was trying to find my uncle and had no plan b.  he happened to have a mobile phone and offered it to me.  "try to call him again," the young man said.  voicemail. "don't you know anyone else in new york?"
i shook my head, no, and sat back, defeated.  what to do, what to do... but wait! i remembered that a few months earlier, an aunt had called me.  and aunt i had not spoken in to many many years, maybe more than ten.  i remembered that she had mentioned that she was living in new york.  could this be true.  i paged through my little notebook and showed the number to the young man.  yes, he confirmed, that was a new york number.  it was almost midnight but i was desperate.  i called the number and waited.  the most welcome voice in history answered and insisted that i come over immediately.  she took me in and made room for me.  i ended up staying with her for the weekend and, when i decided to move to new york, she let me stay with her for several months, while i sorted myself out. 

she is my family in new york.  but, we lived in different neighbourhoods and i, for one, got busy with work and life in general and i was not keeping in touch as well as i should.  i had been there for this awesome arrival and we had spent christmas together.  we also spent a little time hanging out when my mother was around but i really had no idea what was going on with her.  and then there was that call from the deputy sheriff.

The Things That Stick

My parents and, by default, I spent many years in exile, waiting for Zimbabwe to come into being.  Of course, they spent more years in exile that I did and, being that I was seven when we went to Zimbabwe, I had no idea that I was a stateless person.  Once we were living in Zimbabwe, the parents insisted on our travelling around the country, and making history lessons out of these trips.  One of our early trips was a tour of the places in which my father had spent his childhood.  He took us to his old primary school, where the school buildings were painted a vivid blue, like the colour of swimming pools in the movies.

As we were in the middle of the school holidays, we walked around the empty school buildings, peering into windows  and listening to him reminisce about being a kid.  We peered in, trying and failing to imagine our father as a kid.  The history lesson over, my geologist father took us into the schoolyard for a lesson the the stones and rocks there.  He walked us over to a large rock that was rising out of the grass and tried to get us to believe that this grey rock, that he referred to as talc, was what was used to make baby powder. 
"If you take a stone, you can write your name in the rock because the rock is that soft."
We were skeptical.  Now, our father, as he reminded us often, was the smartest person around but write in rock? He handed my sister, brother and me each a stone and said, "Try it."
He directed us to the rock and we each took a spot.  I reached out and gasped in amazement as the stone sank into the rock and the beginnings of my name were scratched in.  The rock looked solid and yet I was pretty easily writing my name in it.  We were all so absorbed by this that we forgot that, as siblings, we were obliged to be constantly squabbling. 

"Step back, quietly."  My father's voice cut through the peace.  When he used that tone of voice, we knew to put our millions of questions on hold and simply act.  We stepped back as he stepped forward brandishing a massive stick that had somehow found its way into his hand.  He brought the stick to the ground and hit the grass over and over again.  The, he moved the stick in the grass and, when he raised the stick again, a snake was wrapped around it and the snake was quite dead.  I am not sure how big the snake was in real life but, to my eight year-old self it was ginormous!  And, as my father declared, it was a cobra.  Since he was correct about the rock, we took his word on the snake.

So there was my father, discoverer of writing rocks (I wonder if our names are still in the rock), killer of giant cobras (that had not attacked because for once in our lives we were actually quiet) and general maker of exciting days.  And we had not even had lunch yet!  And, as though the day was not cool enough, it turned out that he had spotted smaller talc rocks that we got to take home.  There is another tale of how my brother ended up with an allergic rash from homemade talc powder but that is for another day...

August 21

when i was 15, my parents moved to a small town for work and i had to start boarding school. it was then when my father and i began our letter writing relationship that lasted through high school, college and beyond. it evolved to include the very occasional email - as much as a man who had a secretary to do most of his typing and thus was limited to a very slow two finger ordeal. this lasted until he passed away in 2003. he would have been 65 today and i think that i am finally emerging out of the state of denial, about that, that i have been in since then. i thought it would be fitting to share some of one of his letters. i think the fates agreed.

i went into the basement of our building and pulled out a box of some letters. the first letter i pulled out was dated 21/9/92:

"It's exactly one month today since my birthday and, already, I feel three months older than my tender age of 47. If this is an exponential decline that I will have nothing more to do with maths.

Today I feel much better. I have been counting my blessings. Actually I have been looking at the question of competition which cannot take place unless there are contrasts and comparisons. The competitive environment has many participants, few winners and a considerable number of 'also rans' and losers. All told, I consider myself to be a winner in contrast or comparison to other families. I have had reasonable parents who raised me well and I married a fairly reasonable wife (she was better than she is now) who has assisted me (or I have assisted her) to raise great kids whom I am proud of and for whom I can honestly and truthfully thank God. I shouldn't really complain too much about minor disappointments and setbacks.

A philosopher who has never amounted to much, for obvious reasons, once told me that 'life is not a bunch of bananas.' He obviously came from a tropical climate and didn't go far beyond that.

I must prepare for my annual Accident Prevention Function where I give the usual moving speech, but people still drink too much and we end up with someone getting involved in an accident.

Hope to see you soon. Make peace with your former r/mate. There is no room for physical wars in the 21st century."

now, i'm off to do something special and happy and it will start with a hearty steak and eggs!

We Are The Champions!

even though i knew how early i had to wake up in the morning and thought i had some kind of idea what lay ahead of me for the weekend (or perhaps precisely because of that) i did not get to bed until close to midnight and i tossed and turned until the alarm went off at 5am. had i been waking up to go to work, it would have been a drag, but i was off on an adventure so i was full of energy as i hopped into the shower and double checked to make sure we had all our luggage. sure that we had everything, we headed to the door. i stopped and turned back - we needed a team mascot. i whisked our ventriloquist dummy off the book case and we dashed out to the waiting car of fellow team members. and then we were off!


where to? well, to woodstock, new york, over 200 miles away from home, in order to start a relay race back to new york city. we paused in manhattan (i live in brooklyn) to pick up more friends and a van and then again we paused outside the city to pick up yet more friends. twelve of us would be running and we had calculated that it would take us about 30 hours to run the race. but you know, thinking is never quite like doing. never.

so, before the details, here are the rules:
there are twelve runners and two vans. each van carries 6 people. luckily for us, two extra person volunteered to drive each van. at any given time, one van is on and the other van is off. so the way the race goes is that one person is running their leg of the race while the five other runners are in the on van. while the person is running, the van (with the five other team members) drives ahead to the exchange point, stopping at times to cheer on the runner. at the exchange point, the next runner jumps out the van and waits to receive the baton. after the exchange, the person who was just running, collapses into the van (even though they should be stretching) and the van sets off for the next exchange point. when the sixth runner in the van will then hand over the baton to the first runner in the next van, thus activating the van to on position and deactivating their van. each runner runs three legs during the race. WHEW!!! i ended up being runner 6 in van one, with a total of 19.5 miles to run during the course of the 30 hours.

our first runner set off at about 10:30 am and we all piled into the van to get to the exchange point. we were stocked up with power bars, energy drinks, salads and water. most of th etime we ate the most delicious cookies, brownies, candies. it was like we were on a fun sleepover for ten year-olds... with a whole lot of running thrown in. we did drink the water though, so, we kinda sorta acted like grown ups. oh the tummy aches the day after the race?! but so worth it - those cookies were the most delicious ones i have ever eaten; salad be damned!

my first leg was a beautiful one. i ran in the afternoon (rather warm) down a narrow road that ran past green meadows. there had been a lot of rain so there flora was abundant. there had been rain the night before so the bugs were also abundant and, apparently, attracted to sweat. by the time i got to the van, i had almost been blinded and choked by those aggressive bugs. maybe they were unhappy about the invasion of the city folks. i should have stretched once my leg was over (you know hindsight and 20/20 vision) but we all were ready for a shower and change. so, we got into the, now off, van and drove off to a friend's house. we were lucky to have one of those because we were actually able to take showers, eat some food and lie down for about a half hour. while we were doing this, our friend and team member, baked up another batch of cookies! then, in no time at all, we had to pack up the van and head out for the second change over. it was getting dark at this point and we were about to begin our second leg of the relay.

did i mention that we were running our race on open roads? that the roads were not closed so we were running with traffic doing what it does? that our starts were staggered so we would each be pretty much running alone so we could run on the shoulder of the road without disrupting traffic? so it was like going for your regular run, except for when your team van zipped by and your friends tooted the horn and cheered in support. so, once it got dark, so we could see where we were going and so that traffic could see us, we added head lamps (that we strapped to our foreheads) and butt lamps (do i have to explain) to our running gear. it was friday night and we were in pretty rural parts of upstate new york. my leg happened between 1am and 2 am on route 9 (a pretty busy highway) and was not scenic at all. my legs were beginning to feel the effects of not stretching and the effects of the 5 miles i had run earlier in the day. but i set off into the dark night with my headlamp and butt lamp.

i'll tell you this, there sure are some interesting people out on the streets between 1 am and 2 am. and there sure are some interesting thoughts that go through one's head between 1 am and 2 am on a friday night, like how most of the people driving at this time of night on a friday have probably been drinking. or how most people driving are not expecting to come across a bright light trotting along towards them and may not respond in a safe manner. or, who the heck is that guy in the white dress shirt and black jeans? and why is he running pell-mell towards me with his hair flowing out behind him like he's a character from a trashy romance novel? it's 1:30 am!! i'm tired, do i have the energy to escape him if i need to. oh, whew, he's got other things on his mind; he just zipped past me like i'm not even there. am i here? or is this a dream? could a dream hurt this much? i would have woken up at this point. oh my gosh, what the hell is that beast coming out of the bushes with eyes that glow in the dark. it looks like a hump-backed alien giant rat! is that a raccoon? does it have rabies? i did hear about a rise in rabid raccoons in upstate new york. how fast can a raccoon run? how hard can a raccoon bite? oh the oncoming traffic just freaked it out - it's disappeared back into the bushes. if i run past will it pop out? but i must run past because the van is waiting on the other side of this spot. oh lord, make me brave. whew. my knees hurt but i can do this. i can get to the end. it's 7.5 miles - i can run that. oh here is the sign saying there's one mile to go. this is the longest mile i've ever run. they must have miscalculated it. oh, hallelujah! i see the changeover point!

this time, there were no houses to go to so we parked our van in the parking lot of a high school. hi-def (van driver volunteer) and i headed into the school gym which was already well populated with bodies in various states of unconsciousness. at this point we were so exhausted - it was almost 3am and we had to be up at about 6 am in order to get ready to run again. there was a bathroom and the line was long. i was sweaty and i was exhausted. so, hi-def laid down, on the hard wood gym floor, an unzipped sleeping bag and a random blanket we found. we lay on top of them and before we could realise just how yuck we were, we passed out.

when i woke up a couple of hours later, the line for the shower was shorter so i hopped in for a quick wash off. what a gross shower! the walls were mouldy and i couldn't believe that people actually used them. that said, desperate times... i showered off and dressed in preparation for our third leg. we were tired. all of us. each would run their leg, get back into the van and the pass out for about 30 minutes. It was as though we had prepared ourselves to run our distance and not a step more. my knees were really hurting but i couldn't expect anyone else to run for me - we all had a lot we signed up to do.

that last leg, for me, was torture. i took it slow and i took many walk breaks. a friend guy caught up with me and offered me water. others drove past, as they headed to their exchange points, and shouted words of support. it kept me going. 6.5 miles later, as i came to my final finish line, i looked and felt rought! the baton exchanged included a hug of victory and then i took my turn at passing out in the back of the van. it wasn't over - we followed our van, cheering the remaining six runners, until we headed into the bronx. all of us congregated close to the finish line so that we could all cross the finish line together!

200 miles (almost)! 30 hours! 12 women - the XX-Tremes!!! and we were still talking at the end of it all. and talking about doing it again next year. even though i'm in physiotherapy now, paying the price for running too far and stretching too little, i would do it again in a heartbeat. what an awesome team.

then, a week ago, in the mail... a "bronze" baton. the XX-Tremes came third among the women's teams. i'm a bronze god...ess!!!

The Hills Are Alive

Four weeks ago... Wow! It's been four weeks? How time flies but let me not ponder upon the relativity of time. That is a conversation for another day.


Sooo.... four weeks ago on Friday I boarded a plane headed for San Francisco. I was relaxed and happy - I had given myself enough time to stop at the candy store in the airport that sells Cadbury's chocolate and picked up a couple of bags ot stock for my emergency stash. We sat in our seats and watched the safety video as the plane made its way out onto the runway. Then we sat, and sat, and sat. Then an announcement - apparently there was some technical issue that we had to go back to the terminal for. And then we sat a little more and were informed that the issue could not be solved and we were going to switch planes. I was fine with that - once they tell you your plane has technical issues, how comfortable can you really be with it?


We deplaned and sat in the terminal for a half hour. Then another announcement - apparently our problems had been solved and we were getting back onto the plane; the same plane that, just a few minutes earlier, had a problem the could not be solved. Back onto the plane we went and watched the safety video one more time, for luck, I suppose. Then, as we headed back out onto the runway, the pilot came onto the intercom system. I paraphrase - "ladies and gentlemen, let me explain what has been going on. we had a indication light that was on earlier. the engineers said that they fixed it earlier but, when we went out onto the runway and tested it, we received conflicting information that led to us going back to the terminal. the engineers now say they have fixed the situation so, we'll see what happens."
And with that, we set out on our trip. That was an adventure, but more about that later.


I was in San Francisco to run half of the Nike Women's Marathon. I figured that San Francisco's hills were so legendary that a half marathon would feel like a full. Not that I needed any excuses to run 13.1 miles, but I had them just in case. I was travelling solo - my friends had not signed up to run with me and hi def had to work so it was just me and my t-shirt that declared that I "flatten hills". I spent Saturday walking around the hilly city and taking in breathless views from atop some of these hills. It was a wonderfully warm day and there was barely a cloud in the sky. I prepared my gear on Saturday evening and turned in early.


I rose before the sun on Sunday and went downstairs to join the many other mostly women who were milling around the entrance hall of the hotel. I went over to an overpriced coffee shop, whose name rhymes with Barsucks and had to pay over a dollar for one banana! A DOLLAR!!! Nerves and outrage kept me warm as I stepped out into the cold per-dawn and made my way to the start line. The national anthem was sung, I tied my shoelaces again (after triple checking for a potentially hobbling rock in my sock) and then we were off. I had latched on to a pacing group, so I could keep a pace that would help me beat my previous race time without having to think to much about it. All I had to do was keep my eye on the pacing flag that declared that, if I could keep up, I would finish my race in two hours. Yes, yes, according to my "hard training" schedule, I was supposed to run in 2:09 hours but, isn't two such a great round number?

A couple of miles into the race, we hit a hill. I had perused the blogs and asked random strangers at the race's expo and they told me that there really was one hill in the race and it was a short one where I could see the end from the beginning. I looked up and it seemed there was an end in sight so I soldiered on and was relieved that the hills I had heard so much about before I got to San Francisco were far less intimidating in person. It was soon over and I was still running with my pacer. I refused to think about anything else - to do so would be to find pains in my knees and labour in my breath. I carried on.

We hit mile seven and the land began to slope upwards. Our pacer warned, "take it easy up this hill" and I thought, well, that's an odd warning - this hill seems flatter than the last one. We rounded a corner and I expected a downhill. So much for expectations; more uphill ahead. I gritted my teeth, determined to keep going and not let the thought of climbing up a hill kill my spirit. I should have started repeating the mantra I had practiced in previous training sessions - I love hills, I love hills - but the only two things going through my head were - I can't keep up with the pacing group - and - oh man, why am I moving my legs and arms and getting nowhere?

I rounded yet another corner and still, nothing but hill. Was this even possible? How long can a hill be and what human with a heart would have people try to run up it? Through the foam of my earphones, I could hear the heavy breathing of those around me, yet it didn't make me feel better that I was not alone in my suffering. My lesson of the hill - misery does not always love company. I could barely see the flag of my pacing group any more. I promised myself that I would try to catch up with them if the uphill ever ended but for now, I just had to will myself to keep running, even though the running motion didn't seem to help me cover any ground. I tried to take in the amazing views but my mind kept coming back to - it's so hard, when will it end?

Just as I was about to throw in the towel, I passed the man who shouted out - keep going, you are about to reach the crest!
And he was right. I rounded a corner and I got to run downhill. Hallelujah! I enjoyed the moment and my knees did a little dance and cheer.

But I had been traumatised. I knew now that the declarations I had been given that there was only "one little hill" were nothing but lies. So now I was left to wonder how many other slopes were in my future and how much spirit I had left to face them. By the time I got to slope number 3, I was asking myself who I was trying to impress. I had no idea where my pacing group was - I could not see the flag anywhere. I could just give up and walk the rest of the way. And still, there was a little voice - come on, Pandave. You have come all this way; you worked hard, waking up early and running long. You still have something to give - give it. I was past the 11 mile point and so I told myself - this is shorter than your usual short runs. You can do it.

I passed the mile 12 sign and smiled. Just a little further to go and then it would be all over. I ran on, not even feeling too badly about the slight upward slope I had just hit. I had, maybe, half a mile to go now, I estimated. A young cheering volunteered yelled out to me - looking good. just one mile to go!

What? Not one mile? Hadn't I passed the 12 mile mark a while back? Hadn't I covered more than just 0.1 miles since? My mind had to readjust to the new distance - it's crazy how a half mile can feel like ten when one is tired. As my mind was working on this, I came to a bend and then, in front of me, a huge sign that declared "FINISH". Was that my finish line? Or was this a mirage? No time to think, my knees took charge and picked up the pace.

As I channeled all my remaining energy into the final sprint, the master of ceremonies shouted into the PA system: Come on everyone, give the runners a big cheer! They have just run 13 miles. And look at Pandave! She Flattens Hills!!
That was me he was talking about - I had those words printed on my shirt. I started waving and grinning and running even faster. What a moment. I crossed the line, fists pumping the air, to be greeting by a smiling firefighter in a tuxedo. He gave me a lovely silver necklace - a finisher's medal that I can wear every day - and congratulated me.

What for? Not just for finishing but, for finishing in 2:00:36. And really, what's 36 seconds between friends?

They Saw, He'll Saw, I'll Soar!

Well, the doctor was wrong, kinda, but she was also right, kinda.  She was wrong, so she doesn't get the pleasure of cutting me open.  But she was kinda right so another doctor gets the pleasure.  Now he is intent of pushing me to start a new fashion trend - I'll have to learn to love my new scar.  It will be a symbol of strength, surivival and the power of the MRI.  I'm thinking that after all the jabbing and blood-taking and mumbled discussions that I have had to endure, a trend-worthy, don't-mess-with-me-in-prison scar is the least the medical profession can do for me.  The bonus?  I get to take a couple of weeks off work.  So I'm out for a couple of days but then, like a bad Terminator movie - I'll be back.

It Should Be Every Day

Today in New York, is Poem In Your Pocket day.  The 7th annual Poem In Your Pocket day.  And I only just found out.  I mean, I know I have been out of the loop lately, but this is ridiculous.  I have long mourned the demise of poetry, I have often admired those who can string a few words together and create a novel-worthy story.  I live to read a few words that move me to tears, laughter or an ah-ha moment.  And I had no idea!  I am really beginning to believe that I am living under a rock for real.

But, now that I know, I have embraced this day with zeal.  I have produced one really bad poem that I gave to hi-def to carry in his pocket.  I stood in the shower and hoped to come up with something I could share with the world.  I couldn't even come up with a haiku and that's 17 syllables.  

I want to rhyme with reason

In every clime and season

Except, well Winter, I don't know

All I want to do then is go

Huddle under the covers and cry

Until the cold and misery pass by

But forget that, it's now time for sun

And warm rain and nothing but fun

But for longevity I'm thinking maybe a locket

It's not always safe to have a poem in my pocket