Archive for August, 2013


Last Sunday was the 5th Annual Damon Runyon 5K at Yankee Stadium, a run/walk for cancer research. This is not the first 5K I have done for charity but this time I decided I would run. Mainly just for the personal satisfaction of running.

photo (3)I signed up in June and started training, that was probably a little short sighted of me since that gave me just 8 weeks to train. However I was convinced by the app I looked at that I could do it, I’m not going to say they lied, because I did have a few setbacks of my own, pain in my legs in the second week, unbearable heat for a week and I got sick. By the time the run came around I was at week six and the farthest I had run was 1.58 miles, a 5K is 3.1 miles. To say I was a little nervous when Sunday came around would be a bit of an understatement. Since I said I was going to run and had collected money to donate, I was determined to not quit. I picked up my race packet ahead of time and wrote the names of the people I was running for on the blue sign they provided for me in purple ink, then pinned it to my purple shirt, taking great care to make sure it was straight.

Standing in line waiting to go in I was rather preoccupied with thoughts that I would either trip, fall or die so I didn’t notice the people around me until a photographer said something to the woman behind me about being a Mets fan. She was wearing a Mets hat and Mets socks. She was also wearing a DR run shirt and had written all over it names, “In Honor” and “In Memory”, something I had planned on doing but never got around to. I also saw a boy in an Indians shirt and the lady behind me said she saw some in Red Sox shirts. Cancer’s not picky is what she said, I think.

20130821-130404.jpgAs I walked in I heard some people saying they were going to start off walking. That made me feel a little better, knowing that some others in the group were walking. As the race went on, most were running and walking, I felt like I fit right in. After the run was over I met up with the lady who had been behind me, who was actually a very nice Mets fan. That was when I found out I had actually done a smart thing signing up for the slowest group of runners, since that group is usually made up of slow runners and fast walkers. Score one for the rookie. The race course is inside Yankee Stadium, twice around the main level, then down to where Monument Park is, past the entrance to Mohegan Sun Sports bar around and out twice around the warning track. Runners are not allowed in the dugout, but no one stopped me from taking this picture, and see the front of the barricade there? I put my foot up there to retie my shoe. Then back inside and up the stairs to the 3rd level, down the ramp to the great hall, then to the right and back up the stair to the third level, 286 stair steps in total. Then back down to the finish line to pick up a bottle of water, a medal and a goodie bag.

After the run, when I was leaving the stadium, the woman who had been behind me asked me how I did. “I finished.” I said, she gave me a high five and we walked to the subway together. I got off at Columbus Circle and a couple carrying Damon Runyon goodie bags got off at the same time and exclaimed, “MORE STAIRS!”

There were photographers everywhere, now I have to decide which picture to buy, on the warning track? And if on the warning track, which picture on the warning track? The one of me running, sticking my tongue out at the photographer, or walking slowly looking at my phone? Maybe one of me inside on the stairs? Crossing the finish line or standing in the great hall with the Yankee logo behind my head? I might have to get all of them.

The ramen place wasn’t busy, so I plopped down and had some spicy ramen, my treat to myself for not giving up.

There were 2,559 participants, 1,321 were women, there were 79 women in my age group. Of the 2,559 I came in 1,975 and my time was 50:46. My next event? I’m thinking a 10K.

Are You Licensed to Ride the Bus?

I got this link in a comment to my “Riding the Bus” post, not only do I agree with these guidelines I could probably add a few or a hundred to them.

A Collection of Musings

dog_bus

In order to drive a car, you have to take lessons and pass a test. I strongly believe that transit users should also be subject to rigorous testing, because they too can be a hazard to the public. In order to enforce the system, there should be inspectors who you show your ‘Certified to Ride Public Transportation’ card to. If you get 10 de-merit points in 1 month, you will need to undergo an intensive course entitled ‘How to Behave in Public’.

I understand that this is unlikely to happen unless city leaders start using transit and see for themselves that most villages have in fact put their local idiot on a bus to the city.

In the meanwhile, based on real experiences, I’ve drafted a list of guidelines I would like to print out and hand to people who ride the bus or metro with me.

  1. If you drop…

View original post 153 more words

Yesterday I rode the bus, it is an event that happens with sufficient infrequency to be noteworthy. It would never have happened if I knew how to cook sausage in a non-stick pan. I suppose I could blame that on my mother, since she had a cast-iron skillet and taught me how to cook sausage and eggs in that instead of a non-stick pan. Or maybe I could blame it on the fact that I now eat chicken or turkey sausage and there is not as much fat draining out into the pan. The fact remains that I ruined my pan cooking sausage in it and when I told Em I wanted to buy a cast-iron skillet she suggested going to Home Goods after the game yesterday.

20130816-023001.jpgWe took the B train from Yankee Stadium to 103rd, from there we walked to Home Goods, where I found a small cast-iron skillet, mission accomplished! I also saw these green Ramekins which I had to have. They are oven safe to 500°F (260°C) and also microwave, blowtorch and dishwasher safe, except I don’t have any of those. Really! I don’t have a blowtorch, never needed one. Em said they would not be a frivolous purchase because I would make baked eggs in them. I was thinking they would be good for single servings of baked Macaroni and cheese myself, or for heating up macaroni and cheese since I don’t have a microwave. Then we stopped at Model’s for socks, which they didn’t have. After that we went to eat Mexican food.

Em was ready to walk to Grand Central, I was ready to go home, but we were on the west side and I didn’t want to walk across the park since I always get lost walking across the park. Don’t ask and don’t judge. Also I was carrying this heavy cast-iron pan, 4 green Ramekins and 3 yellow bananas. And my knee hurt. That was when I got on the bus. If you’ve been reading this blog you may know that I hate the bus more than the train. Even when a friend tells me, “If you take the bus from church it will drop you right by your apartment.” I will still walk the two blocks to the Green Train and then walk the two blocks back to 2nd Ave. The Crosstown bus is not that bad. However once I got off the crosstown bus I walked up 2nd Avenue home. Which is how I ended up with a bottle of Aleve (that I needed) and a bottle of shampoo (that I didn’t really need but Ricky’s sucked me in).

While riding the bus I was struck by the thought that public transportation in NYC represents the diversity of the city. At one stop a man got on wearing a pale suit and straw Fedora (a different type of hat I would have said he was a southern gentleman), followed by a woman wearing a skirt and shirt (not quite pulled together businesswoman attire, looking pissed off, I wonder if the southern gentleman made a chauvinist comment to her), then a middle aged man wearing shorts and a Mets shirt (EWWW!), a teenage boy was next (he might have been with Mr. Met). There was also this ancient woman with hair down her back that looked like one big dreadlock (please don’t sit too close to me).

At least it was better than the subway ride to the stadium when I saw two women not wearing bras that should have been. One had on one of those strapless dresses that are cute if you’re not a DD cup, the other woman was wearing a white racerback tank top. My eyes, please my eyes hurt after that.

GulagIn The Gulag Archipelago (which is about the Russian prison system, and which I have decided to abandon at page #132) Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn talks about the periods of mass arrests. He refers to them as rivers, the wave of 1929 and 1930, the size of a good River Ob, and later 1944 to 1946, the size of a good Yenisei. The other day as I waited for the train, I thought about what an accurate description of people that was, because the people keep coming not caring what is in their way. If it is something big, they move around it, something small, and they just run over it, push it out of the way. Even if that thing is a person, like me.

This is what happens in the train, people come like a river, they keep coming even when there is no more room. Even when I want to shout, “There’s no more room in here! Wait for the next train!” On the subway platform when the train has been delayed they keep coming, they look down the stairs at the mass of people and think, “There’s room for one more.” Except everyone looking down is thinking the same thing, so instead of one more there is ten more, then ten more after that.

Don’t do it, just take the bus.