<Wednesday, March 3rd, 2010> [Amy]
Note to self
I got a Latin phrase tattooed on my left forearm today to commemorate the marathon. I'd planned all along to get inked if I managed to finish. But it wasn't until I saw our friend Darrell's tattoo, and then the tag on my new running shoes, and then the manager of our local bike shop, that the pieces fell into place.
Darrell's tattoo is also on his inner forearm, and is also a quote in Latin. I can't remember what it says, but that's not important. I loved the idea of something that's meaningful to the owner, that others would have to ask about. The best thing about tattoos, in my opinion, is the conversations with strangers that they elicit.
The problem was, I didn't know any quotes in Latin that really resonated. Until this past week, that is, when I picked up a new pair of top-of-the-line Asics running shoes for $35 at Ross (SCORE!). The tag on the shoes explained that ASICS is an acronym for the Latin phrase "anima sana in corpore sano", which translates "a sound mind in a sound body". As soon as I read that, I knew what my next tattoo would be. As I've told many of you, I run as much for mental health as for physical fitness.
On Sunday, V rode his bike up to Cycle Spectrum to have the rear gear changed out. When I arrived to pick him up, Freddie, the manager, was there. Freddie has great tattoo sleeves. I asked him--once again--who did the Japanese-style work on his left shoulder. And this time, I drove to the shop (Acme in Atlantic Beach) and asked for the artist (Dwayne Crafton). The shop is actually very close to the turnaround point on the marathon route. I made an appointment for Wednesday (today) at noon.
V helped me choose the font. His mom, a Classics scholar, proofed the Latin. Dwayne repositioned the stencil twice to get the text straight. He promised the end result would look exactly like the art I brought in, and it does. I found out in the course of our conversation that he designed the original Salt Life logo. Every other car here at the beaches, including mine, has a Salt Life decal. To think I worried about whether he'd be able to execute text!
Hopefully the new tat will be all healed up in time for Spring Break, three weeks from now. We're taking the girls to Club Med Sandpiper in Port St. Lucie, four hours south of here. We're meeting our friend Gwenyth from NYC, her parents, and her son Dylan there. The kids are going to Circus Camp!
.:.
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<Tuesday, March 2nd, 2010> [Vincent]
At a crossroads...
So here I sit on the couch in the NYC apartment eating falafel. I bought the falafel at 20 past midnight from a man in a box on Broadway who took the time to teach me how to say "How are you?" in Bengali, which I unfortunately quickly forgot.
My beloved company has been purchased, an inevitable consequence of going public. The new possible owners (the deal hasn't gone through yet) seem brutally businesslike. They will cut jobs to cut costs and cut costs to please stockholders. That is the way of public companies. That is the way of business. Efficiency is king.
I may be cocky, but I don't think my job is in danger. But I'm not sure of that.
So, given that reality, what should I do? The deal won't go through until this summer, and though the new CEO has promised to make any changes as quickly as possible, there's no guarantee that I'll actually know what's going to happen until the fall or later. Possibly much later.
The list of reasons to come to NYC or stay in Florida is long. What to do. What to do.
.:.
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<Monday, March 1st, 2010> [Vincent]
Ruh-roh?
.:.
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<Friday, February 26th, 2010> [Vincent]
The book is dead! Long live the book!
I realized something the other day. I've been reading a lot of books lately, at least a lot of books for me. You see, I am generally NOT a reader. Part of the reason is that I don't like to acquire physical media. It takes up too much space and is a pain to move, which we do way too often. I try not to buy any media that required killing a tree or a dinosaur, if I can avoid it.
So lately I've been buying and reading books on my... phone. On a stinkin' phone. I'm buying them from Amazon, using their Kindle iPhone app, but I don't own (or really want) a Kindle.
Thinking about why I'm doing this, I think it boils down to a few things...
1. It's novel. I think this effect has worn off by now.
2. It's convenient to get the books. A few clicks, and there it is.
3. It's always there. I always have the phone nearby, so anytime I have a moment, I can read a bit.
4. It's smart. It keeps track of where I was last (across multiple books), keeps track of what I've read, lets me redownload anything I've already read, etc.
5. It's backlit. I can set the background to black, and read in bed without disturbing Amy all that much. Far less than a light, anyway.
6. It's cheaper (I think) than the bookstore. The big chain book stores are pretty expensive, I think partly because they throw away something like 60% of anything that ever hits the shelves (if memory serves). The library would of course be much cheaper, but that eliminates all of the other advantages. When I find myself unemployed in Manhattan someday, I think the library will sound like a much better idea.
The downside? It's kind of small. I'll probably end up getting an iPad for a multitude of reasons, reading books but one of them...
.:.
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<Monday, February 22nd, 2010> [Amy]
It's official
Amy Bumgarner
Age 36
City Ponte Vedra Beach
State FL
Bib 1335
Place 1,076
Class 95
5M 01:00:32
10M 01:56:33
Half 02:34:06
15M 02:56:16
20M 03:56:20
Chip 05:11:51
Final 05:15:59
Pace 00:11:55
.:.
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<Monday, February 22nd, 2010> [Amy]
Marathon recap
This is mostly for me to go back and read when I'm old and senile and reminiscing about the "good ol' days". For anyone else who's interested, read on.
I ran the 26.2 With Donna, The National Marathon to Finish Breast Cancer yesterday in Jacksonville Beach, Florida. Not only was it my first marathon, it was my first race of any kind. I started running just over a year ago, in January 2009--my New Year's resolution. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer a month later. She moved here for treatment at the Mayo Clinic in the spring, and the girls and I followed in the summer. I registered for the marathon, which starts and ends at Mayo, the week we arrived. I thought running it would be cathartic, and training for it would keep me sane.
Race day started at 4:00 am. I slipped out quietly and drove to a nearby hotel, where shuttle buses were picking up runners (there was absolutely no participant or spectator parking at or near Mayo). There were hundreds of runners lined up in the freezing cold. Some wore humorous get-ups--pink clown wigs, pink tutus, bras outside their shirts. Many, like me, had "I'm running for:" bibs filled out and pinned on along with their race bibs. I made it onto the second shuttle and stood for the circuitous ride to Mayo (the most direct route, JTB, was closed for the race).
Runner's Village was elaborate and well-staffed. I checked my bag at the gear check, got a banana, and wandered around trying to stay warm. Before long, they were corralling us based on our bib colors, which corresponded to our estimated finish time. Mine was green, somewhere in the middle. I was relieved to spot a pacer with his flag for 3:50. I made my way over to him and asked where I could find the 4:45 pacer. "Towards the back," he said, somewhat disdainfully.
Turns out I wasn't the only runner searching for a pace group. Several people around me introduced themselves. We stayed together as they moved us out to the starting line on San Pablo, always scanning the sea of runners for pace flags. The only ones near us were 6:00 and 6:30. 4:45 was nowhere in sight. Joan Benoit, the Olympic gold medalist, and Donna Deegan, three-time breast cancer survivor and the marathon's namesake, addressed the crowd, a band played a song, a soprano sang the national anthem, they fired the gun, and we took off through a blizzard of pink confetti.
It was slow-going for the first two miles. I stayed with Patti, a woman originally from Long Island who lives in my neighborhood. She'd trained with Galloway, and planned to 2/1 (run two minutes, walk one minute) for a 5:30 finish. That was slower than I wanted, but I was grateful for someone nice to run with. The stretch on the bridge over the Intracoastal was breathtaking. Fog banks and steam rising off the water, the sunlight slanting in, warm and pink, illuminating the ribbon of runners snaking to the horizon ahead of us.
I stopped to use the port-a-potty east of the bridge, and lost Patti. I resolved to run MY way (10 min run/1 min walk) until I caught up with the 4:45 pace group. For the next few miles, we snaked north through downtown Jacksonville Beach, until we turned out onto the beach itself. The beach portion is what makes the Donna special. They time the marathon to correspond to low tide, when the beach is broad, flat and hard-packed. The inspirational message boards we'd signed at the Expo were spaced out every few hundred yards. We had those on the left and the Atlantic ocean on the right as we ran northward.
After a couple miles on the beach, we turned back into downtown Neptune Beach. At mile 8, I finally saw a fluorescent green pacer's shirt (TWO of them!) and a pink and white pace flag. I caught up and asked their pace/finish. 2/1 for 5:15. Good enough for me, I decided. Having run flat out for the previous 5 miles, I wasn't sure I could catch up to the 4:45 group, anyway. The next 10 miles were the best of the race, for me. We ran through residential areas down tunnel roads shaded by live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. Spirits were high and we shared some laughs.
The hardest miles were 18-23. The route was a straight shot southbound, as far as you could see, in the hot sun, with only the occasional breeze off the water. We picked up several runners who'd dropped off faster pace groups or who were struggling on their own. At our largest, we had over a dozen members. The group was quiet and serious. Our pacers struggled, one with an old knee injury, the other with her breathing (she used an inhaler at one point). As we made our way up the banked, steep flyover onto JTB, members of our group began to drop off.
By the time we crested the bridge over the Intracoastal and could see Mayo looming, we were down to 5, all women, including the two pacers. We waved to Joan Benoit as she ran past us in the opposite direction. Having placed 2nd in the women's half-marathon, she was on her way back out to meet Donna Deegan to complete the marathon with her. We were ahead of schedule, and our pacers were required to finish close to their stated time. They encouraged us to run on ahead, but I told them my goal was to finish WITH the group I started with. So we all slowed up and jogged easily across the finish line just as the official clock rolled 5:15.
I got my medal and a bottle of water and made my way to gear check to get my bag with my phone. I'd just sat down on the curb when my phone started ringing. It was V. He had no idea I'd just finished, and was expecting to leave a message I'd get later. He and the girls were in the family reunion area. I met them and V gave me my new pink Oakleys. We took some pictures and got the girls a snack.
I met another runner who was waiting for his family. He'd just run his 58th marathon. He's running a marathon in each of the 50 states. Florida was his 16th state. Texas is next Saturday. He'd finished in just over 4:30, and seemed impressed when I told him this was my first race, and I'd run it in 5:15. He asked me, with a conspiratorial grin, "So? Are you hooked? Gonna do another marathon?" "Ask me tomorrow," I hedged.
I've had a day to rest and reflect, and the answer is... Yes. I'm totally hooked. How could I not be? Running a marathon is a peak experience, not unlike natural childbirth in its brutality and transcendence. I figure I've got one marathon a year in me. Maybe the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco next year? Not to mention several half-marathons...
.:.
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<Sunday, February 21st, 2010> [Amy]
Finished it
I did it. I ran a marathon. Finished with my pace group in 5 hours, 15 minutes. Vincent and the girls were there at the finish line. I got my finisher's medal and my pink Oakleys. I'm tired and sore, but otherwise fine. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be, but also a lot more fun. Pictures will follow, but for now, I must crash.
.:.
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<Monday, February 8th, 2010> [Amy]
The saints went marching in
74 yards in. I'm not a football fan, but I am a runner, and I just have to say about Tracy Porter: RESPECT. The Superbowl championship couldn't happen to a more deserving city.
.:.
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<Saturday, February 6th, 2010> [Amy]
Rising
My brother's comment on a photo V posted recently got me thinking. He said:
If Tori and Nev grow up with the new Trades, they'll become New Yorkers for sure. "How you gonna keep them down on the farm..."
In a sense, Tori and Nev HAVE grown up with Ground Zero. Tori was born just outside Washington, DC on George W. Bush's inauguration day--January 20th, 2001. On September 11th, she was nine months old and we lived in Fairfax, VA. We scanned the horizon that day for smoke rising from the Pentagon, 13 miles away.
Nev was born in December, 2002, just over a year after the terrorist attacks. Tori was diagnosed with autism the following summer. Her diagnosis was our own private 9/11--we felt exactly the same shock, sadness, anger, and desire to DO SOMETHING. In the fall of 2004, our quest to get Tori the most and best help we could led us to New York City--ultimately into an apartment less than half a mile from Ground Zero.
For almost two years, we passed by the site twice weekly on our way to Tori's OT appointments at the sensory gym in Tribeca. Progress was largely imperceptible then, both at the WTC and in our daughter. But I trusted that they--and we--were doing the groundwork, laying the foundations.
We moved away from New York in the summer of 2006. At that point, only 7 WTC, adjacent to the site, was complete. I wondered if construction on the Freedom Tower would ever begin. I questioned if all the interventions Tori had received had helped her at all. Would she succeed in a mainstreamed kindergarten setting?
Now we're headed back to New York, to our old neighborhood, to an apartment on the 35th floor overlooking Ground Zero. My mom thinks the view is morbid, but I feel hopeful about the redevelopment of the WTC.
Tori just turned nine, and the Freedom Tower just reached the 100 foot mark. It's been a long, arduous, agonizingly slow journey back from a dark place for all of us, but the future looks bright and full of promise.
Rise.
.:.
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<Thursday, January 21st, 2010> [Vincent]
January 20th, 2010
Two things happened yesterday to make me feel a little older.
Tori turned nine. Nine. That's almost ten. Which is almost teenager. She's her own bird, to put it mildly, but looking back, she has come so far, and we are so very proud of her. Not that I'm not terrified about the oncoming adolescence.
The other event is kind of embarrassing for Nev, so I apologize if you ever read this, sweetie. Nev had a potty accident on the playground today. The nurse said it's been happening with lots of kids because of the cold. Strange. Anyway, the funny incident happened when she was sitting in the nurse's office, waiting for me to deliver some clean clothes from home. Out of boredom and curiosity, and with no idea what it did, she pressed the little button under the handset while the nurse was on the phone. You know, the button that gets pressed when you set the handset down. The one that hangs up the phone.
The nurse snapped at her, since she was talking to a parent, and this disconnected the call. Nev was mortified. I found her in tears when I got there. All of this happened because the phones that we grew up with, are... antiques. She's probably never seen a phone like that, and certainly never used one. At least now she knows what that button does.
Time for a mid-life crisis, I guess. Maybe I'll move the family to New York or something.
.:.
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More rambling...
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