CRAZY 8'S

Just finished my final "long run" before the big event. I did 8 miles in some rather cold weather - mid 30's when I started out, frost on the lawn. But a gorgeous morning, nonetheless.

Took a trip to the doctor yesterday. I'm not a big fan of doctors, but with 8 days 'til the race and this pesky cough not getting any better, I sold out. He gave me the new 5-day dose of antibiotics and told me to "drink a lot" - WOO HOO! - "of water." Oh.

TRUANT.

I'm playing hooky today. Shame on me. But the 6th graders are away on their annual camping trip, the building is quiet and it seemed like a good day to sleep late.

Shame on me.

While I was out running (my 3 measly miles) this morning, I saw a flock of birds lining up on a telephone wire. I guess they were getting ready to head south for the winter. I started wondering how they go about that.

I mean, is there a group leader? One bird designated to make sure everyone's there? A bird who takes attendance and has all the maps and stuff? Luckily they don't have much to pack - that's one less thing to worry about.

Do they go back to the same place every year? Like time-share? How do they know when to leave? Is there a mailing that goes out?

Are there stupid birds? Ones who get lost or show up late for departure? Maybe that's why they were all waiting on the wire.

"Damn it, where the hell is Phil? Why is he always the last one here?"
"Sorry guys - I had to drop the pets off at the boarder."
"Yeah, whatever dude. You're at the back of the V."

I wonder if we went over any of this in Biology class. Maybe I was playing hooky that day too.

Shame on me.

T-11 DAYS...

First, thanks to everyone for the comments about Delilah. I appreciate your concern more than you know. So thanks :)

Okay - so I am in the middle of my "taper". That's the three week period before the marathon where mileage decreases so that the body may repair and get itself ready for the big day. All the books urge you to taper responsibly and not to freak out or get weird. I guess the authors, being runners themselves, can relate to the neurosis we're all feeling.

Yesterday I did 4, today 6 and tomorrow 3. And I'm worried cause those little runs seemed harder than some of the longest ones. Perhaps it psychological? I hope so.

Also, I have this weird congestion in my chest that makes breathing difficult & keeps me up at night coughing. I think I may go to the doctor - in case it's bronchitis or something. That would really just suck.

DELILAH JANE.

August, 1992.

I'm about to enter my senior year of high school, and I am at band camp - a place called Camp Green Lane - somewhere in Pennsylvania. It's the third or fourth night of camp, and my friend Bob and I are up to our usual antics. This particular evening we'd decided it would be great fun to disconnect the water to the staff cabin. So we're creeping about in the woods when suddenly from behind I hear, "Meow?"

I turn around to see the most adorable cat emerging from the woods. She's a small muted calico - white, grey and orange. And at that moment, I fall in love. I name her Delilah, after the Queen song.

I bring her back to my cabin and she becomes my pet for the rest of the week. At each meal, I carefully wrap up food to take back and she's quite content. When Saturday rolls around, I'm not sure what to do. Bringing Delilah back on the bus is not an option, so I say my goodbye's and we part ways.

A few days later, Bob and I decide to take a road trip. We hop into my 1984 shit-brown Pontiac Firebird and head west, and we find ourselves back at Camp Green Lane. Delilah is waiting for us - as if she knew we'd be back - and she settles herself into the back seat.

Traffic heading home that evening is brutal. And as a stupid 17 year-old, I don't realize that leaving the car's A/C on full-blast while stopped in traffic is a bad idea. Naturally, I overheat. So here we are: two dumb kids and a cat - stuck on the side of the highway.

As it turns out, we had an angel that day. We're not waiting long when a woman in a Jeep Cherokee pulls over and offers us a ride.

"Um... we have a cat, too," I confess.
"That's okay - hop in."

Bob's dad was a dentist, and the woman drives us all the way to his office. The three of us wait for him to finish with his patients. Delilah sits in her own chair in the waiting room, enjoying the adventure.

A few days after I'd brought her home, I take Delilah to the vet for a check-up.

"She's a beautiful cat," he says. "I'd say she's about a year old. Very healthy. Oh - and she's pregnant."

D'oh!

I learn that once pregnant cats pick where they'll build their nests, you really can't change their minds. And while I try to set up comfortable boxes for Delilah's convenience, she instead opts to bear her litter in my underwear drawer. Four beautiful kittens - two boys, two girls - and Lilah is a fantastic mother.

The years passed. I graduated high school and moved on to college, to grad school. To new homes with roommates, friends, lovers. And each time I returned home, Delilah welcomed me back as if I'd never left.

She was a chatty cat with a gentle purr. The fur around her neck was snow-white, and she was very diligent in keeping it clean. She had a toy pom-pom - which we called her 'fussball' - and she'd play with it every night on the stairs, tossing it up and down and chasing after it. If she caught you watching, she'd get embarrassed.

A few months ago, Delilah started to lose weight. We took her to the vet and learned that she had some tumors in her stomach, there wasn't much they could do for her and it was only a matter of time.

This evening, HE and I took Delilah to the vet one last time.

She got angry when I tried to put her in the cat carrier. She even growled - as if to say, "Leave me my dignity. I didn't come here in one of those things." And so she rode to the vet seated on the back seat.

Driving home from visiting HIS parents last night, we got into a discussion about what happens when we die. HE shared with me his beliefs that we are all essentially made up of energy, and although our bodies may be gone, our energy lingers.

After it was over, we were sitting on the bench outside the vet's office. Thinking back on all the years and the many memories of Delilah, I turned to HIM and asked, "Where did she go?"

To which HE replied, "Nowhere."

TURTLE'S TOP NINE

I saw a very well-endowed woman out running today. She looked really uncomfortable - as if they might bounce up and hit her chin. And at that moment, I thanked the Anatomy God for my little B-cups -- the same ones I used to bemoan before I became a runner.

I was thinking of the many strange physical phenomena I've encountered during my marathon training. And while being knocked unconscious by my boobs did not make the list, I'll proudly present the "Top Nine" that did...

#9 - The armor-like calluses I've built up on my feet would scare any unwitting pedicurist back to Asia.

#8 - I've consumed enough protein in gnat-form to qualify as an Atkins disciple.

#7 - I can pee ANYWHERE.

#6 - With the help of my podiatrist, I've learned the correct procedure for lancing, draining and dressing blisters (Yay $18 bottle of Betadine solution!)

#5 - I've come to surpass my deodorant's threshold four times a week.

#4 - I've learned that few things hurt more than the shower jet hitting freshly chafed skin.

#3 - My toenails have been become transparent.

#2 - After long runs, my skin is saltier than the upside of a Pringle.

#1 - My snot-rockets are the envy of all who know me.

17 days to go -- what will normal life be like again?

ACHOO!



Yeeecchh. Everyone at school is sick -- kids, teachers... I swear, I'd probably stand a better chance of not getting sick if I were working as Head Toilet-Licker in a tuberculosis ward.

I've been pounding the Airborne every few hours, hoping to create an effervescent forcefield of health.

In other news, five gnats flew into my eyes while I was out running today. This kinda creeps me out 'cause I gotta wonder that if five flew into my eyes, how many must have flown into my gaping mouth? I mean, it's a lot bigger than my eyes. And wetter - if these gnats happened to be seeking moisture.

Lastly, I felt I had to share this... Yesterday I was making soup and a grilled cheese for Bean's and my lunch. There was a bit of chaos going on - workmen pounding on the walls and my brother trying to put something in the microwave - and the soup boiled over while the sandwich burned.

"Shit.." I muttered a little louder than I should've.

And Bean - a three year-old with the wisdom of Ghandi - looks at me and kind of shakes his head and says, "That's not a very nice thing to say."

He was right.

OCTOBER SKY.

The past few days I have been reading a bunch of runners' blogs and discussions on the Runner's World website. I think it's actually starting to sink in -- the marathon, I mean.

Since April I have been training religiously... following the huge Hal Higdon chart on my refrigerator, and seeing the little green X's accumulate as I cross off each run that I complete. I guess for the majority of the summer, October just seemed so far away. And now it's here - and in just three weeks, it will all be over.

And that makes me sad.

Because I've never worked so hard for anything - committed as much time and energy... Every week passes and I surprise myself by going a little farther. Never could I have imagined coming to think of a 10-miler as "an easy run."

It's become such a part of me. And words can't do it justice - can't convey what it feels like to hurt so bad and feel so good.

FUN WITH PHOTO BOOTH II.



This program alone is worth getting the new Mac.

I RAN 20 MILES TODAY.

It was hard, but it was great. And it's the farthest I have to go until the real thing (which is just three weeks away!!) I didn't stop to walk, although I did stop to pee at mile 8. Damn walnut-sized bladder of mine.

I feel pretty good right now, aside from a few aches and pains which I think are normal. The weirdest thing is that I am feeling very weepy. I don't know if this has to do with being physically exhausted? I'm standing at the sink washing up some dishes. Bean is here so I have on the Disney channel and that movie "Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey" is on. It's the one about the cat and two dogs that travel miles to be reunited with their family.

And I am absolutely SOBBING through most of it, snot running down my nose into the dishpan. And I'm trying to look like I'm not crying, cause I don't wanna freak out my nephew. So I'm gasping and fake-laughing and scaring him even more.

It's wonderful to feel this much. It's like my senses wanna explode.

This is why I run.

FUN WITH PHOTO BOOTH.

"BATCAT"...



Oh happy day!
My beloved passed HIS dissertation defense and is gonna git HIMself a bona fide PhD!

I can hear my Dad's side of the family cheering from the heavens:
"She's found herself a Jewish doctor -- Mazel Tov!"

LIFE AND STUFF.

Holy crap, has it been a week already?? Wow. I forgot that going to work every day leaves me with far less time to sit around in my self-absorbed bubble, analyzing every thought that enters my consciousness.

But work is good!

The year is off to a fantastic start. I have a great group of kids, and my colleagues have all been in very good spirits (so far). I've taken over the position of Media Club Advisor, and with that have also received a phat new MacBook Pro! Just waiting for the Tech. Dept. to load 'er up and then I shall play. Oh, how I'll play...

And after far too long a hiatus, I have picked my trumpet back up and am playing with this great group. I used to play with them back when I was in college, as they were way better than our college wind ensemble at the time. It's good to be part of something musical again - with grownups!

Running is going great. Just did 14 miles, and am about to embark on the toughest week yet which culminates in a 20-miler next Saturday. Then begins the great taper, and the run is less than a month away (29 days to be exact). If I've learned anything from all this running, it's about pacing... the runs and life in general.

Finally this week, my dear BOY is defending the dissertation HE has been working on for the past two years. HE's been a bit nervous - and rightfully so - but I know HE will be great. HE's one of the most brilliant people I have ever known (and I'm not just saying that cause I have sex with HIM). If all goes well, HE will be "DR. HIM" in December.

So that's where I's been. Once again I reiterate, "Life Is Good" -- for as long as it is, I am grateful. And even when it's not -- I'm still grateful.

STRONG TO THE FINISH.

Why can't there be E Coli in something like ice cream or wine? Then maybe I'd stay away from those things which are not good for me. Or not.

18 long miles this morning. I wonder how I will fare 36 short days from now. The last few today were tough. And me without my spinach.

DANG ME INNARDS.

I was a total tomboy growing up. I blame it on having two older brothers. It drove my Mom crazy because she'd always wanted a little girl she could dress in pink, and who would be into playing with dolls and dancing ballet. What she got instead was me: jeans, skateboards and sports.

As an adult, I have realized how much greater it is being female. It's clearly the more superior gender. We're smarter, more intuitive, and can get out of speeding tickets by playing dumb to even dumber male cops. I'd say our only downfall is those pesky internal reproductive organs.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have "penis envy" or anything like that. In fact, I often marvel at how strange penis's are, and how miserably inconvenient they must be -- always popping up or flapping around. And let's face it, even the best penis is ugly to look at (except YOUR's -- it's STUNNING!!)

But at least if something goes wrong on a guy, they pretty much know it right away. Women not so much. Tomorrow I have to go in for a colposcopy. After two abnormal Paps, the doc wants to get a better look at things. So this kind of sucks. I'm kind of nervous.

It's still better than having a penis, though.

NEVER CLICHÉ, THAT DAY.

I was half-listening to the news while making dinner a little while ago. They were covering 9/11 stuff - local tributes, etc. - and suddenly I got all verklempt while slicing a tomato.

It's strange... Five years have passed and people talk about that day on a regular basis. We talk about who's to blame and what the world has become since that day. And with all that 'coming to terms' with stuff, I kinda feel like my heart should be stronger by now. But I think it's the personal accounts that get me.

People have come to ask, "Where were you when the towers were hit?" I was at school. It was the first week and since we hadn't yet had Band sign-ups, I didn't have any classes going on. I remember walking down the hall towards the bathroom and another teacher telling me that a Cessna or something had hit one of the twin towers. I went to the bathroom thinking, "Duh..."

When I was finished, I wandered down to the main office and knew something was wrong as soon as I went in. The principal, secretaries and a few other teachers were standing around a radio, their faces ashen. I stood with them and listened to the chaos that was ensuing in New York. It felt like the world was coming to an end.

I remember walking back to my room in a daze, passing by classrooms where teachers and kids who had not yet heard were going about their business - laughing, learning. "They have no idea," I remember thinking. And for those brief moments, we were living in two different worlds.

The rest of the day was a blur. I joined the principal and counselors in going to the different classes to talk to the kids. So many of them had Moms or Dads who worked in the city. Parents came in droves to collect their children, and I acted as a runner, finding their kids and bringing them to the office.

The memory that haunts me most is that of a newly widowed mother collapsed with her daughter in the hallway. The husband/father didn't make it out. Another boy - one of my trumpet players - lost his Mom that day.

I didn't see any television until I got home. And when I saw the images, I could not turn them off. At the time, I was sharing a house with a crazy Canadian chick and when she got home from work, we took a drive up to this condo complex on a huge hill. From where we stood we could see the twinkling New York skyline, a large patch of it cloaked in darkness. We could see the smoke still rising from its gaping wound.

I suppose everyone remembers that day in their own way. I remember the faces of the people in the main office. I remember that woman and her daughter in the hallway, broken. I remember U2's "Stuck In A Moment" playing on the radio as I drove home from school, and how I can never hear it without thinking of that day.

I also remember the days following, when we as a nation felt the type of camaraderie that only comes from surviving a tragedy. I remember wondering how long that bond would last. And now, five years later, I still feel it, and I can say that my life has changed. I think I stop to smell the roses a little more, and I tell the people in my life that I love them.

Our world is so complex and so very fragile.

XXVI

I have been going "Back To School" in some capacity - as a student or a teacher - every single September for 26 consecutive years.
That's 26 "First Days of School."
And tonight also marks the 26th "Night Before the First Day of School."
Cue the jitters-induced insomnia, and... ACTION!

HEMINGWAY CAT.

Fuuuuck. Today was just plain hard. I did 16 miles, but they were neither fun nor easy. I think running without the iPod is a bad idea because without the music, my mind has nothing to concentrate on except for the looming miles and the little aches and pains.

I'll be going along fine and then I'll start to think about how much farther I have to go and how I can't fathom taking one more step. I'll think, "Fuck it, I'll just stop... 'cause really, who's making me do this anyway?" And the answer is as simple as it is frustrating: I AM. If I stop, I'm only letting myself down. So I press on.

And I did finish, even though it sucked. I think I was probably a little stupid to go out for Happy Hour yesterday. I didn't get hammered or anything, but I've learned by now that alcohol + running = shitty results. Shame on me. And shame on you, Cosmos, for being so damn tasty.

Ah well, at least I did gain something from today's run. I appear to be growing a sixth toe on my left foot. Maybe I'll move out to Key West when all this training is over. I hear the conch fritters are to die for. Mmmm... conch.

EH...

First day back was okay. It's weird: after spending three months being more or less alone 80% of the time, I found it really uncomfortable to be around so many people. It's like I'd become de-socialized or something. I felt a little anxious, truthfully. Not sure what that was all about, but I didn't really like it.

We had a Coffee Hour from 8-9 AM in the high school cafeteria. That entailed standing around asking everyone you see, "How was your summer? Do anything cool?" and then feigning interest, while not giving a rat's ass and wishing you were home in bed. I lasted about 2 minutes before escaping to find the two band directors, who were naturally hiding in their bandroom.

After the district and teachers' union meetings, we were sent to our respective buildings for yet another meeting. Then they fed us lunch and we were dismissed to do stuff in our classrooms.

I dunno what it is. All summer I've been psyching myself up to have a really positive, exciting year. And now that it's upon me, I feel less than enthused. Anxiety. But I don't know why.

CRIKEY!


I just read that Steve Irwin died this weekend. A stingray's spiny tail punctured his heart while he was swimming with it off the Australian coast. I'm not sure why this made me sad - clearly, it was bound to happen sooner or later - the guy made his living pissing off dangerous animals. But maybe that's the whole reason why it's so sad.

While running this morning I saw the first round of this year's school buses, zooming around to pick up disgruntled high schooler's all seemingly wearing dark jeans, black sweatshirts, and dour expressions. Ah, September...

My district starts Thursday and Friday for teachers, and the kiddies come next Monday. It's been a great summer but I am looking forward to getting back into the swing of things. I'm ready for a good year, even if my job is not as glamorous as the Croc Hunter's.

But then again, I've never heard of anyone being killed by an angry pre-adolescent trombonist.

BAND CAMP UPDATE.

Four days down, two more to go. The weather has been crappily rainy and cold, except for the two hours yesterday when it got Africa-hot and we were swarmed by mosquitos (the ones that had been breeding in the puddles and were now awake and hungry for geeky band-flesh.) We start rehearsals at 10 AM and go until 9 PM - essentially eleven hours, give or take an hour for a meal here and there.

I have to say, the kids have been AMAZING. Were I a kid in this band, I probably would have quit on Saturday. But they have an incredible work ethic, and a seemingly endless amount of energy. So many times I've just wanted to sit down and/or start crying because I'm tired, cold and wet. But then I look around and realize I haven't heard one kid complain -- and then I feel like a wuss.

I have gotten very used to working with middle school kids. I've learned that their attention spans are about 23 seconds, max. And as a result, I've gotten used to teaching in a sort of rapid-fire way to keep them engaged. Working with high school kids - especially ones as hard core as these - has been a shock to my system. I forgot how GOOD they can sound, and how they are able to really pay attention to detail. Truthfully, it's been a little intimidating for me.

I guess I can make it through two more days. It's probably good for me. Maybe I need to raise my own bar and the bar of my own students a little higher this year.