One Weekend, Three Skirts: The Challenge

Floral, geometric, solid.

One old skirt, three new cuts of fabrics, one weekend. By the end of the weekend I should have three new skirts. There will be drawing! There will be cutting! There will be sewing! It's the multiplying of the skirts!

Stay tuned for all the exciting details and how to info on how to turn one skirt into four.

As Colombian as coffee

Sometimes when I start speaking passionately about coffee, I invoke the Colombian defense. Every once in a while someone will point out that Colombians don't drink coffee, or that Colombians don't drink good coffee.

Yesterday I attended a social media event (my very first industry conference!) and during the break I talked to someone who mentioned that. According to him, and he knew this because of a friend who had been to Colombia, Colombia has no coffee culture.

It's true. At least if you're going by American standards. You're not going to find a coffee shop per corner with long lines. You're not going to see people heading to work, travel mug in hand.

When I first came to New York, a friend from Brazil was showing me around. It was a snowy winter (remember those?) We were freezing in Times Square. He wanted to show me something weird, so we walked over to a street cart and bought coffee. It came in a cup, and it had a lid.

It was one of those tabbed lids that you fold back to open. The warmth in my hands my welcome, but I couldn't figure out the lid. Was it to keep the coffee warm while to you went with it somewhere?

No. More often than not the lid is just so you can drink coffee while walking. That's the part that doesn't make sense.

Handmade cup by Ming. This is what I use everyday for my morning coffee.

Coffee is more than a jolt of caffeine. Coffee is to be savored. Coffee is to be had fresh and in ceramic cups. It's best with family or friends. A close second is to have it in the morning, at home, while listening to chirping birds. That's how I have it most days.

You stop what you are doing, and you enjoy your coffee. 

Who needs coffee shops or fancy equipment when you've got Arabica beans and a pot of boiling water?

If your lifestyle doesn't allow that, then you wait for the coffee man. He'll come around at some point. He walks with a set of coffee thermoses on his shoulder. He'll be calling out his song. When you hear the song, you flag him down and he'll come to you. He'll pour you a cup and sit with you until you're done. You'll have your coffee. He'll pack up his things and go his way after having enjoyed coffee together.

Coffee man rounding up my parent's block. 

NYC Half 2012

It would be like hopping out the van on the third leg of Ragnar is what I told myself. Running a half-marathon on zero training and pretty much no running. My last run had been Coogan's, two weeks before. That was a 5k and though I did pretty well, it felt like a tremendous effort for such a short distance and no personal record to show for it. Just to give you a sense of things, a 5k is 3.1 miles, a half-marathon is 13.1 miles.

I did it because I had a spot and had paid for it. It's an expensive race and it's difficult to get in. Plus I'd worked hard to get a spot this year. I got in through guaranteed entry: run four out of five half-marathons in the five borough series. I ran three and had one cancelled on me, so I got my spot. The no training was a combination of plantar fascia issues and winter funk.

Going into it I knew it would be hard, but the route was sweet and I wanted to give it a try. It's not everyday you get to run through Times Square with 7th Ave closed to traffic and fans lined-up to cheer for you.

Plus: I had a a plan. I knew I could run 6-7 miles before things started getting rough. I'd start with a friend from PPTC and hang on to her for as long as possible, that would take me to Times Square. Then there was a fast downhill heading towards the West Side Highway which I'd use to recover. That would take me up to mile 8. Then I'd just have to promise myself I could do two more miles. By then I'd be so close to Canal Street I'd be in awe of what I'd already done and refuse to quit. Plus, once you've done 10 miles, what's 3 more?

It sort of went like that. I held on to my fellow PPTCer for almost five miles. We went out kind of fast and  she went on to finish in 2:09. I was glad I didn't stick by her since that would have been a record for me and yesterday was not a day for records for me.

Shortly after we said goodbye, I connected with a woman who was wearing a Colombian shirt. Turns out she lives near Prospect Park. I found a new running buddy (my first Spanish speaking one!) and a work connection. On 7th Ave I got to see some PPTC teammates cheering. Go team!

Times Square was even more surreal than usual. It's no Verrazano, but the thrill of running through it made me forget my aches for a moment. But it was just a moment. The boost I hoped to get from the downhill recovery didn't come.

Cars on the left, cool people on the right.

I said good-bye to my new friend at the entrance to the West Side Highway, slowed down even more, and cranked up the music. Mile 8 was mostly The Grates telling me that Science is Golden, which I took to mean that I could force my mind to get me to the finish line, and that I was on The Biggest And Largest Adventure Ever. Then by mile 9 Justin Timberlake was whispering all kinds of delicious things in my ear and telling me that I was bringing sexy back. By mile 10 Adele was running in the deep. And it was deep. So deep I had to take a moment to take a picture just for you.

Not sure how I got through the next mile and a half. There was some shuffling, some walking. There might have been some quiet inner whimpering. And then I felt a hand on my back. I didn't know her but she was wearing the same shirt I was.

"Come on, PPTC, you can do it!"she said as she passed me. So I turned my music off and I caught up with her. She is a new member, and her company kept me going all the way until we were within view of the last 800meters sign. By then my quads were cramping and all sorts of things felt like they were going to fall off.

It told her to go. She still had enough juice for a strong finish, while I felt I needed to walk if I didn't want to get hurt. I crossed the finish line shuffling, got my medal, and continued on. I felt like I was just going to topple over while walking on the cobbled streets of the South Street Seaport in the post-finish line area. I wasn't meeting anyone after the race. Everyone else I had knew had finished earlier and I had no close friends who had come just to cheer for me. I was starting to feel a little lost and lonely when I saw the PPTC banners and headed towards them.

Belonging to a club as warm and friendly as PPTC has had a big impact in my running. Speed training with Coach Tony has made me faster and stronger. On days like yesterday when I was struggling so much, being part of PPTC made all the difference. In a sea of thousands of nameless faces, I was part of something, and they were there for me. Couldn't have done it without you, PTTC. Thank you!

Meryl Streep's Taxi

It was late but still light out in that way that dreams have of being two things at once. The air was warm when we came out into the evening. It was beautiful out, the kind of high summer evening when dusk lingers.

We were on 10th Ave, somewhere in lower Manhattan. My cousin Eduardo hailed a cab and I got in first. Even before my other two cousins Andrés and Maria Luisa got in, I'd already gotten into an argument with the cabbie. He did not want to go to Brooklyn and was letting me know it very clearly. I got out. We could have made him take us anyway - it's the law! - but it was better to wait for another cab than have to spend time with such an angry person.

Kind of like this but without the suitcases.

As if to prove that good things come to those who don't put up with bad behavior, another cab came driving by in the other direction. It was neither a yellow cab nor a liveried car. It was a happy off-white with a black line. It had a taxi sign and it slowed to a stop when I hailed it. Crossed the street running before the driver could change her mind. My cousins were following close behind me.

When I got there I couldn't tell her where we were going. I just stared. "Well. Are you getting in?" Meryl Streep asked me, punctuated with one amused and perfectly arched eyebrow. I didn't even answer. I just ran to other side and got in with my cousins.

Meryl looked good behind the wheel.

She was wearing a white blouse and glasses. Her hair was loosely tied back. She looked like she was enjoying a private joke pulling a prank on strangers. I was too shy to sit in the front. Maria Luisa, who was last, ended up there but she was exhausted. She just followed us in and passed out as soon as she sat down without a glance towards our driver.

Meryl was charming and hilarious as she drove us. I thought of my co-worker K. who would be so jealous when he heard. We were all chatting nonsense like old friends by the time we hit the Brooklyn Bridge. When we got to my place it seemed only natural to invite her in. My apartment had a few more rooms than it does most days, which made sense with so many cousins visiting.

We were serving tea and teasing Maria Luisa because of her reaction when she woke up and realized Meryl was sitting there with us when I woke up.

Dreams can haunt us. Dreams can soothe us. I usually go home to Barranquilla in late winter. It helps me cope with winter darkness by giving me an extra strength dose ecuatorial sun and family warmth.

This winter I was not able to go home which has given me uncharacteristic spells of homesickness. It's nice to know I can still see some of my family in my dreams, along with Meryl Streep.

Cabbies can be mean. Life in New York City can sometimes be harsh but you never know when something wonderful comes along. Maybe even hail Meryl Streep in a cab.

Getting Crafty

Blame it on Pinterest, but I've been getting crafty lately. It's been fun and I've been wanting to write about it. Yes. On my running blog.

Since I'm not getting crafty with running outfits - though that has happened before* - I'm planning on making some changes here.

I miss blogging. I miss writing. There are times when I want to ramble on blog about topics that don't fit within the structure of this blog.

Those of you who want to read whatever random post I decide to write won't need to do anything. It will all end up here. Those who only want to read about running, you'll have go here instead.

*I ran the 2010 NYC Marathon in my own PPTC homemade skirt, barely pictured above.

Summer Inside

Chilly and windy was what the forecast said.  NYRR even said they'd post an update at 5:30am about whether the race would take place. Damaging winds with gusts of up to 45mph were predicted.

Fleece lined crochet hat. Not intended for running.

That wasn't the case and the race took place as planned. Fearing the windchill I'd piled on the layers. By the time I got to the park I was toasty. I figured I'd keep on a few for the race: two pairs of thermal running tights, two long sleeve tops, one singlet, a head band and a fleece lined crochet hat, plus neck gaiter and gloves, of course.

Out of shape and unprepared was how I got to the starting the line.  I hadn't run since the previous Sunday when I'd participated in a relay and before then my running has been in fits and starts.

I wanted to get to the finish line. I started with Lindsay and stared hard at her ass as she took off. Maybe if I stared hard enough I'd be able to keep up with her. About a mile and half in we parted ways.

It was nice to get the hill done at the start. The wind wasn't so bad. By mile two I was starting to warm up. Then I hit that happy stretch of downhill that leads to the lake. By then I was wondering if I'd overdone it with the layers. I was getting really warm. I was sweating.

On that stretch of road, the sun was out high enough to clear the trees and hit me right in the face. It was bright. I lowered my eyelids and the race changed. I closed them just enough so all I could see was a few feet a head of me through my eyelashes. I couldn't see the bystanders in their thick winter jackets or the runners with their long layers.

But I could feel the sun in my face. And by then I was so hot I could pretend it was the heat from the sun I was feeling. Wear enough layers and move a little and you can make it so it feels like it's summer inside.

If I keep it up long enough it will be summer outside too.

For now, I'll have to take it one run at a time and hope for the best for the NYC Half. Unprepared seems to be the name of the game these days. It might not be pretty, but as long as I keep moving in the right direction I'll eventually make it. Wish me luck with that one.

Today, being so rested from lack of running paid off. A PPTC teammate caught up with me in the last quarter mile. I was just hoping to hold steady. She yelled at me as she passed me and egged me on to follow her. She kept checking in with me and I grunted back. Final results are still pending but I'm pretty sure I owe her a PR.

Thank you for the encouragement. Sometimes that's all I need. Isn't that all anyone needs?

Birthday Run

Lately it's been hard to get out the door to run. My hip has been acting up since the Turkey Trot and there's been chiropractor drama. As a result I've been in some pain even while just sitting around and walking. That combined with short cold days has made it very difficult for me to run regularly. 

Sometimes when I'm not following a specific program if something goes wrong it becomes too easy to come up with reasons not to run. One day it's the throat. The next day it's the low temps. Then it's a faulty alarm clock. Or the rain. And before I know it, days go by and it gets harder and harder. I find it better to not think about whether to run, but just run.

But to switch that back on sometimes I need a reason to run. Without a race in the calendar, I found that reason in a birthday party brunch run.

It was my birthday yesterday and these lovely ladies helped me start celebrating my birthday right.  

Birthday run, not in our birthday suits.

It was very cold and the loop felt rough. I felt very out of shape and almost can't believe how I managed the Jingle Bell Jog just last weekend. But it was great being out there with some of my favorite running buddies.

The plan started low key and grew naturally. I bumped into Jess while commuting and we both wanted to get together and run on a weekend and the first available weekend was my birthday. Then I met up with Lindsay at the Jingle Bell Jog. Add Jess and we had a party. The four of us hadn't run together since Summer Streets and I was very excited about running with them. Then a couple of days ago Samantha asked Linna and me if we wanted to go for a run that evening. That didn't work, but how about run & brunch?

Brunch not pictured. Gone. There was an amazing sweet potato waffle, though.

People who run in groups used to baffle me. When I started running part of what I loved about it was the simplicity of it. Lace up and go. Whenever, wherever. The idea of running with others and having to coordinate schedules, hurry to meet, wait for someone to show up, seemed like an unnecessary complication. One I most definitely did not want to deal with. I was happy to run alone. 

What I didn't realize then was that running, like so many other things in life, becomes even better when enjoyed with good company.

Thank you for a lovely birthday!