Congratulations to Yul and random happenings

My man Yul won $1,000,000. He actually won. He won Survivor. How crazy and great is that? He played the game extremely well, and there's a great video on cbs.com where he talks about how the game went down--he made the comment that the game could have very well come down to the white alliance picking off the minorities one by one, but they managed to get one of them to flop, and that completely changed the outcome of the game. That certainly was the turning point. He also talked about what he was going to do with the money, and one cause he said he was passionate about was minority bone marrow awareness because of a friend who died in college from leukemia because he couldn't find a match. As a side note, Justina Chen Headley's next novel Girl Overboard coming out in January 2008 also addresses this issue--one of the main character's friend's younger sister, who is hapa, is unable to find a bone marrow match because she's biracial.

Our mutual friend James's birthday is today. I wonder if he'll get a nice present.

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Last night I went out with my roommate Rose for happy hour drinks in the 'hood. We were planning to just hit our regular spots a half a block away from our apartment (although places I haven't been in over a year!). We walked by the Banshee which was empty, went back to Session 73 which was closed for a private party, and then back to Stir, a martini bar I had gone to only once before with Tracy when I first moved to the apartment. We had two drinks before moving on, and decided to check out Session 73 again--no doubt there would be people there completely drunk from their office holiday party, and that should be good for a laugh. Was it ever. We walked in, and saw one guy dancing alone crazily on the dance floor. All other eyes were on us. We made a beeline to the bar for a drink, and immediately I turned around and there was a big guy standing behind me with glassy eyes. Just standing there, not speaking. He came up and stood right between Rose and me, but wasn't saying anything. "Uh...hi." we said. No answer. A grunt. Then he sat down on the stool that Rose was standing right behind, so it looked like he was sitting on her lap. I couldn't stop giggling and had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Sorry, Rose. When I got back, thankfully he was gone, but there would be more of the same. Turns out it was a hedge fund office party. And every time a guy started talking to us, a girl would come up and swoop them away. Haha--I guess I would have done the same with my guy coworkers--you can't help but feel protective/possessive. One guy--really, really drunk and still drinking Long Island Ice Teas--kept talking to me, but couldn't remember things I had said from ten seconds ago.

"Oh...so...you're a student."
"No, I just told you I was a children's book editor"
"So...where do you go to school?"

and then

"So, do you want to walk me home?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Uh, because I live half a block away from here."
"Can I walk you home?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm here with my roommate, and we'll walk each other home."

and a little later,

"Our company makes billions of dollars. I made a billion and a half this year. I could buy you some lloiud vitoiuoid"
"Uh, what?"
"I could buy you some Looouuuiiee Viiitoooon"
"I'm sorry, I can't understand what you're saying"

I finally realized he was telling me that he would buy me some Louis Vuitton. Uh, okay. "I don't care about labels" I said. I mean, I had to google it to figure out how to spell it, for pete's sake.

Anyway, I hadn't gone out like that in a loooong time, talking to random guys at bars, getting hit on, and it was fun and entertaining, especially knowing that nothing would come of any of it.


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In other news, besides having a weekend full of fun parties, the Randoms, and other friends both new and old, I finally received my refund from the MTA today. A month or so ago I tried buying a $20 Metrocard and it took my money and also ate my card that had just $1 on it (leftover from trips to NJ or on the Airtrain or something). I followed the directions on the customer service line, and finally today received two letters and a Metrocard. One letter said that it was refunding my $20 to my credit card account, and the other said "enclosed please find a Metrocard with $1 on it." Great. Reminded me of when my old roommate Jon received a refund check from the IRS for ONE PENNY. $0.01. No kidding. Anyway, for some reason, the Metrocard I've been using also has and odd amount on it, so I have two Metrocards that I will have to use to go to NJ on two separate round-trip journeys, or separately for one leg of a JFK Airtrain trip--except of course I'm flying out of Newark this time.

Speaking of, I'm off on Thursday evening for Southern California where I'll be until the 29th, then back to the city for New Year's. No doubt I'll write more there, update my blog to beta, learn how to add links to the side of my blog, and figure out how to cause World Peace.

Happy Holidays everyone!

I ran a marathon!!!!!

It's the day after the marathon, I've just slept 9 1/2 hours, and may go back for more. But first of all, I DID IT!!!

I ran the NYC marathon. And I achieved 2 out of my 3 goals. My first goal was to run the whole way (aside from the few seconds it took to drink water), my realistic time goal was to be within 5 hours, and my ambitious time goal was to do it in 4 1/2 hours. I ran the whole way (albeit slowly), and finished with a net time of 4:48:59.

It was incredible. Overwhelming. Emotional.My preparation started the night before with a pasta dinner at home, and I went to bed at 9:30. Wasn't able to fall asleep until 2 am--kept tossing and turning, thoughts running through my mind. I tried to envision myself running the marathon successfully, but only managed to picture myself tripping, or limping through it. Felt imaginary knee and leg pain all night, and my foot kept cramping up. I was itching to run, though, to feel the concrete beneath my feet. And when my alarm went off at 5 am, I was ready.

I took a cab with my roommate Rose to midtown, for her to take an official marathon bus, and me to go to the Fred's Team breakfast for bagels and coffee and fruit. After a team photo in Times Square, we set off in the buses. Buses everywhere! I had arranged to meet Rose and her friend Paula at the food area, and I'm glad I did. Despite how prepared I thought I was, I realized I had forgotten my wrist band and my watch, and also did not have enough clothes with me. It was freezing cold, and we had two hours to wait on Staten Island until the race began. But Rose had an extra sweatshirt and a blanket, and I tried to bundle up. We chilled out on a blanket, pretending to be at a beach, reading magazines. When the time got closer to line up, Rose alarmed me by saying that she was planning on taking an 8-hour Tylenol dose once an hour.
"But it's 8-hour Tylenol!"
"But I'm running a marathon!"
Paula read the package. "Do not exceed 3 doses in a 24-hour period."
"Fine. Well, I'll take one dose now, and then as needed."

I had a dose in my pocket, too, just in case. Didn't want to take it unless I needed it. Boy, would I need it.

Rose and Paula left me to line up with their numbers, and I searched the crowd for my friend Paul whose number was close to mine, and amazingly found him. We started the race together, winding up to the Verrazano Bridge, dodging the minefield of clothes. There were clothes everywhere--just as Rose, Paula, and I did, people just discarded their clothes and blankets rather than bother with checking them. It was funny to see clothes fly through the air to the sides as people discarded more while running.

I told myself to savor the whole race, that as was the case with skydiving, it would be over before I knew it. I was planning to take the first 3 hours slowly--but because I had forgotten my watch, it was hard for me to calculate/remember what my time was for each mile, but maybe that was for the best. I just ran. The view from the bridge was beautiful. Volunteers and workers cheered us on from the median. When I made my way down to the bottom of the bridge where people lined the route, I was psyched. The main thing that had made me consider running a year ago was the warmth and support of the crowd. As a spectator, I wanted to lift the runners who went by, to encourage them. I loved yelling out their names, cheering them on. And it made me want to be one of the runners, benefiting from the cheers of the crowd.

I had debated whether to spell my name on my shirt phonetically, but decided against it. I just wanted my name, the way I spell it, on my shirt, and thankfully I think I only heard one "Al-vine-a" and two "Alvinia"s the whole time--not bad! I ran mainly along the sides, partially to keep an eye out for friends, but mostly to give people high fives and hear my name. As people, these strangers, cheered my name on the sidelines, I got verklempt at how wonderful the support was. I loved giving high fives to little kids lining the route, and truly, it buoyed me, energized me. One of the best stretches was running along Lafayette Street in Brooklyn, because the narrower street was more intimate with the spectators. Just as Rose had told me from her experience last year, the cheering of the names has a domino effect--if one person yells "Go Alvina" then people farther along the route will hear that and look for "Alvina" and continue the cheer. During one instance of this happening around mile 8, I hear "ALVINA!!!" and I look back and there's Rose, making her way towards me. As we're hugging we hear someone saying, "In a marathon of 37,000 people, what are the chances..." and there, beside us, is Heather, Rose's friend. Amazing.

The first friends I saw, a Randoms contingent, were camped out on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg. I stopped to take a couple bites of a Power Bar and say hi. Then Sachin was a mile later in Greenpoint, with my camera:"How do you feel?"
"I feel good--but we'll see how I feel 10 miles from now."

I looked out for Peggy and Antonella by the Queensborough Bridge, but didn't see them--but I did see Cathy, twice. I was feeling great. Happily, my left knee which had been bothering me, popping when I walked, was silent and fine. I felt good. Both the Randoms and Sachin commented that I didn't look like I had just run 11 or 12 miles.

Getting into Manhattan finally was amazing, both because I knew there was less than 10 miles left, and also because I was looking forward to running by Sloan Kettering in my Fred's Team shirt, and seeing my roommates near my own apartment. But 1st Avenue is my hood, and I felt comfortable there, familiar.

A woman spectator was running really fast trying to cross the street, and dropped her scarf in front of me. I picked it up and ran after her to return it (man, she was running fast!)--that was my good deed of the day.

I started feeling tired up in the 90s, but then saw Connie and Matt unexpectedly. "What are you doing on the Upper East Side?!" I said as I gave her a hug--she had told me she'd be in Brooklyn, but I hadn't seen her. "Cheering you on!" she said. It helped.

It took forever to get to the Bronx, but I just counted the streets as I went by. And then in the Bronx, I once again saw Cathy! Truly a dedicated spectator. "You're everywhere!" I yelled as I ran off. Once I knew there was less than 6 miles left, I knew I was homefree. That I had made it. 6 miles is once around Central Park, a run I do all the time. People say you hit the wall around mile 21 or 22, but I was just excited to be running the farthest I've ever run in my life, and I didn't really feel so bad. "It's not that hard!" I thought, amazed. I mean, it was hard, but not as hard as I thought it would be. I remembered the quote Amy and Bryan had sent me from Jimmy Dugan: "It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. It's the hard that makes it great." In fact, I was a little disappointed. I wanted it to be hard, I wanted it to be great.

But then, with 4 miles to go, it hit me. My left knee. Sharp, stabbing pain. Ouch. I felt that each step was tearing something. Of course, I immediately regretted thinking what I had thought before, that it wasn't hard enough. I wanted it to be "easy" again. I started limp a little, trying to keep my left leg as straight as possible.

But I kept going, thinking about professional athletes who play through pain. I could make it 4 miles with a hurt knee. I had less than 4 miles left, I wasn't going to give up. I took out my 8-hour Tylenol and took it at the next water station. It helped a little. I stopped limping. I was going to make it.

I saw another unexpected friend cheering me on--Nancy and Jonny in Manhattan just as we were leaving the Bronx. I saw her too late, and the route was narrow, so I couldn't stop to say hi, but she jumped up and down cheering "Alvina! Alvina! Alvina!" and I laughed and waved at her.

The last 4 miles were the hardest, mainly because my knee, but also psychologically, because I felt like I was so close, but really, there was still miles and miles to go. Each mile marker took forever to come. I got a little emotional when we finally made our way into Central Park, because it felt so much closer then--but I knew that it was still a long way from East 90th Street and the finish line on the West side. As with the 20-mile training run, it was the second-to-last mile that was the toughest. And after I finally passed the mile 25 marker, it seemed like forever before I ran 0.2 miles past that and saw the 1-mile-to-go marker. But I sped up then--I was determined to finish under the 5 hour mark, and I was cutting it close.

I crossed the finish line at 4 hours, 58 minutes, and 59 seconds. When I checked my net time later, I saw that I must have taken exactly 10 minutes to cross the starting time, because my official time was 4:48:59.

Done. Got my medal. I ran a marathon. Hard to believe.

Sachin met me at the family reunion area with flowers:
then it was home for a long, hot shower. Ahhhhhh. And then on to Mo's Caribbean to celebrate with Rose, Paula, and friends where I saw this sign in the window:I found out later that Antonella had left it there for me--she had gone to cheer, but couldn't get to the side of the street she had told me to look for her, and so I passed her by. But I knew she was there somewhere, cheering me on!

Drinks and wings at Mo's was followed with Ethiopian food, and then a blissful deep, deep sleep. All in all, a very good day.

And today...I'm sore, but okay. My legs are stiff, my knee still hurts and feels swollen. Going down stairs is tough. Will I run it again? I think so. It was so much fun, so exhilarating. And I'd like to improve on my time. But maybe I'll take a year off. We'll see. Stay tuned.

Thank you everyone for your support! I couldn't have done it without all of you. And during my training, I've inspired my father to run--he's training for the San Diego marathon in June.

Here's Rose, me, and Paula at Mo's: And now it's time for a nap.


Note: a couple of photos were taken from various flickr sites. All other photos were taken by Sachin.

Happy Halloween!

NOTE: New pic and video added at bottom of post

Just a few pics from my weekend. I should have more pics after tonight:

Pumpin-carvin' Friday (can you guess which one is mine?):
(I'll give the answer later this week. No prize, but you'll get fame and props from me)

Costume wearin' Saturday (can you guess what I am?): Alexis in the cutest costume ever: Cupcake!

Mariko is dressed as the lower east side bulding, Blue:

No candy for me, but I still like to get in the spirit of the holiday. Happy Halloween!

**Additional picture and video**

As Sara says, you can't see my whole costume, so here's a better picture of it that Mariko took. We're actually all dancing around a robot ghost:

Here's a video of it:

What are the chances...

I'm not sure if this will be interesting to people who don't know Mathieu, but let me try and see anyway, because I love coincidences. Anyway, for future reference, this is me with my friend Mathieu:


He's a Random and also one of the "Frenchies" and back in August he moved back to France. So anyway, last Wednesday Sachin and I went to see a free improv show at the PIT (People's Improv Theater). We got there a bit early so hung out in the little lounge. There were these huge blown up photographs hung around the room like this:


I took a double take and looked at the middle one a bit closer...

Recognize him? Isn't that crazy? How random is that?!?!

As I was waiting for the bus the rain came down on me

Tonight as I was walking home from work, the sky looked threatening and dark, and it was starting to thunder. Right when I got to 57th Street it started raining and then pouring, and since I didn't have my umbrella I decided to take the bus (and I realized while on the bus that this is one of the only times I've taken public transportation home from work since I moved to this apartment!). The rain didn't look to be letting up, so after I got off the bus I stopped at the grocery store to get stuff for the baby shower, and although I was able to get there without getting too wet, I got soaked running the half block home on my street and almost knocked one of my contacts out. But I didn't really care since I was just going home to my cozy dry apartment anyway. But now...

I open the door to my apartment building, and something isn't right. I hear the sound of rain, and it's loud. It's raining in the lobby! I can hear the rain gushing in the elevator shaft. As I walk up the stairs, I see water raining down on each landing. I remember that my room leaked in the corner above one of my book shelves during a big rain last year, so I worry about what I'll find when I get up there. I open my apartment door...whew, no rain pouring down in the kitchen, although the windows were open and the floor is somewhat wet, but no biggee. I run up to my room, and thankfully the corner where the previous leak is dry. I think I'm home free. But then I hear dripping--where is it coming from? Finally I realize my ceiling is leaking near the wall by my computer. But it isn't bad yet, and I pull my computer out away from the wall. I have some buckets to catch the drips now, but it seems to have slowed down. Guys who live in the apartment have been running up and down the stairs to and from the roof, and I think they've fixed something--something about the drains being blocked.

Hmm. How did you like the present tense?

Seriously, I love my apartment, but it really is falling apart. So sad! The rain seems to have stopped for now. Man, our elevator is probably completely dead...and the baby shower is Saturday! I don't want pregnant Tanya to have to walk up 6 flights of stairs...

Last night was a goodbye party at Loreley for Eveline (who is moving to China), and Mathieu (who is going back to France), and both flew out today--not the best day to fly, both weather-wise and bomb-threat wise.

I was exhausted from my LA trip, but managed to stay out till 11 and have fun doing it, dammit. But the Randoms are now minus 2 key members. I'm sad.

And now this post reminds me of a poem I wrote in 8th grade that was published in the school paper, even though it was bad. Take it out of rhyme, people! But I still have some of it memorized:

As I was waiting for the bus
The rain came down on me.
Without an umbrella, there I was,
It rained so hard I couldn't see.

And then I forget the rest. All for the best.

Trudging on.

I did the full park loop the morning of the Fourth. I didn't wake up as early as I would have liked, because I had gone out on the lower east side to hang out on my friend's rooftop and drink beer. (Also saw Devil Wears Prada that night--liked it! It was exactly what I wanted/expected.)

I wasn't going to go out that night, because I knew I wanted to run in the morning, but I also don't want to start resenting my running. After talking to some people who have trained and run the marathon, some commented that they never want to run it again because it took over their lives. I don't want this to take over my life. I don't want to regret or resent entering. Then again, I also don't want to die when I actually run it. Everything is about balance.

I left my apartment around 9:30 am. It was 79 degrees out when I woke up half an hour earlier, and 81 degrees and rising when I left. But it didn't feel as hot as Saturday--it was overcast and pretty breezy. But I still felt like I was wading through water, sluggish, slow. But as I ran slowly around the Park, I realized that it's so much more rewarding if it's hard. That's obvious, I guess, but when I'm running after not enough sleep, 60% humidity, rising thermometer, I feel that I'm accomplishing something more. Like acquiring a book when the negotiations were a struggle, finding new love and hope after your heart was broken, writing that editorial letter when you didn't know where to start, having fun at a party you didn't want to go to, making it work in a brand-new city or brand-new job. One of the most beautiful moments of my life is getting on the ferry to Cosa Mui in Thailand about 9 years ago after a grueling 10-hour, crowded, uncomfortable bus ride from Bangkok. After waiting, exhausted, in the ferry station for about an hour, we finally got on the ferry to the island and suddenly everything was transformed. The water was impossibly blue, the sky equally so with perfect white fluffy clouds. We could see schools of glittering silver fish skim the surface of the water, and life was good.

My brother and his wife are celebrating their five-year anniversary this weekend in Las Vegas (101 degrees and counting!). They've had some challenging moments in their marriage, especially in this last year, but they've said that will make this celebration that much sweeter. I'm looking forward to being there to share it with them.