How I Mourn, How I Cope

Greg always marveled at what an amazing project manager I am--mainly because of how well I was able to manage the logistics of his illness, all while working a demanding job. Being an editor is basically being a project manager, so I've had a lot of practice! I've realized recently that I've been, in a way, project managing my own mourning. In case this might be helpful to some, here are some of the things that have helped me cope:

-Breathing. Deep breaths.

-Focusing on each and every moment. Instead of going through the motions, I try to focus on each motion, no matter how mundane.

-Keeping busy, especially on the weekends. Friends have been good about reaching out to plan outings, and I've basically been saying yes to everything, but I also don't hesitate to do my own reaching out. When I want/need to schedule my weekends, I do. And it's been great to reconnect with friends I haven't seen for a while.

-Keeping busy, but not TOO busy: leaving myself some time to be alone, to grieve, to cry. And know that it's okay to feel sad. I don't want to avoid my grief. Also, a friend told me her therapist said that intense emotions generally last for 90 seconds and then subside. I haven't actually tested this theory, but it's a good reminder that "This too shall pass."

-Going to a Meet-Up group for widows and widowers under 45. I didn't know what to expect, but it turned out to be really great to connect with others who are going through the same thing.

-Reading. A few friends sent me books on loss (Healing After Loss and How to Survive the Loss of a Love--thank you Caroline and Christine!) and most nights I read a little before bed. 

-Reading blogs and listening to podcasts: I've also been reading some blogs written by widows or widowers. This one in particular. I've also been listening to the "What's Your Grief" podcast, by the women who run the website. Their post about secondary loss was particularly enlightening.

-Writing and journaling. I've always kept a journal, and I've been writing in it a little more often. Blogging a little more, too!

-Exercising. I've decided to run the NYC Marathon again this year, and going for runs in the cold winter air has been wonderful. Lots of walking, too, and I'm taking a Pilates class at work.

-Cleaning and organizing, rearranging the furniture in the apartment, getting new furniture. I've kept photos and other wall-hangings the same, but have rearranged the layout of the living room and bedroom (thank you to Rose, Jason, and Kirk!), which for me helps the apartment feel different and my own, while maintaining the familiarity. I've decluttered quite a bit. I also bought this Lumio lamp I'd been coveting ever since I saw it on Shark Tank years ago. It's a book that opens up into a lamp! It makes me happy.

-Getting massages. In general, taking care of myself.

-Brunch! Dinner! Wine! (see "taking care of myself" above.)

-Focusing on work. It was hard at first, of course--working all day in an office is exhausting! I don't know how anyone does it. But, by the end of my second week, I felt like I was really back. It was familiar, and good to focus.

-Doing small rituals. Another organization I'm in the process of joining (recommended by Gwen) called The Dinner Party sent me this article, and I realized that much of what I've done fits into this. Going through Greg's belongings. Listening to the music he loved. I found a woman who makes beautiful "bereavement quilts" out of ties, and I sent her Greg's many ties to make a wall hanging. I saw this "I have done love" bracelet on Cheryl Strayed's Instagram, and ordered one for myself. I wear it every day. It's from the quote: 

When I get to the end of my life, and I ask one final "What have I done?" Let my answer be: "I have done love." -Jennifer Pastiloff

Okay, that's all I can think of for now. 

It's starting to get light a little earlier--I can feel Spring coming! If you have other advice/techniques for coping and healing that you'd like to share, please do.

I'm in DC...

Well, Maryland, technically. Visiting with Amy and Bryan, who had their first child almost six months ago. Baby Samantha is so adorable--a full head of hair; dark, staring eyes; kicking legs. So sweet and calm.

Ashley and I took the Chinatown bus down together Saturday morning. It was an odd juxtaposition--both of us were out late on Friday night (although separately)--till 4 am (which is not an unusual weekend occurrence for me), and so when we met at the bus station before 11 am, we were both in rough condition. After weakly exchanging updates of our night's adventures, we spread out in different rows and proceeded to sleep the entire 4-plus-hour bus ride to DC. In a way, it was perfect.

And now we're in the 'burbs. Amy and Bryan generally go to bed around 9, when they put baby Samantha to bed, and that was perfect for Ashley and me under the circumstances. I went to sleep around 10, woke up at 7:30 rested and ready to go. But it's striking how different our lives are. Having a baby changes everything (duh). Bryan was commenting that even though he and Amy are homebodies by nature, their lives were still turned upside-down, and he wondered how much more shocking the change would be to a couple who goes out a lot.

I love NY and I want to raise city babies. I know people say you never really feel ready, at some point you just have to do it if you know you want kids. I'm so far away from that point right now, but I know that in a few years (okay, more than just a few) when I near 40, and if I'm not in a relationship, I'll have to start thinking about having a child on my own. But I fear how difficult that will be from what all of my friends with children have told me. They can't imagine having to do it all on their own.

But I don't have to worry about that yet. For now, I'll enjoy my visit to the suburbs (we're meeting up with my cousin's family--two kids!--for brunch today), and then return to my city life as I know it.

Why do I blog?

In the comment section of my last post KT asked these questions:

I am curious. Why do you choose to blog? I am not a blogger, but I am a blog reader. I love your blog. I work alone and enjoy listening in - well, and procrastinating. Hoping this question doesn't stop your blog writing - but wondering, nevertheless - why aren't you writing that book?

This was actually supposed to be addressed in a discussion over at the Blue Rose Girls blog, but we never got our act together. So, well, here's how I started blogging, and why I blog still.

I had been aware of blogs for a while, although hadn't really been a reader of them. But I recommended blogging to my older brother a few years ago when he was casting around for how to get his thoughts/opinions out there. Although I’ve always kept a personal journal, I had never really thought about blogging myself. But about two years ago I was browsing friends’ blogs on myspace, and found a list meme and decided to fill it out, and that was my first blog post on both myspace and friendster. Then I thought, hmm. I don’t even ever really tell my friends about the books I work on, but I that’s the least I can do to help spread the word about these books. So I wrote a post about Flight of the Dodo by Peter Brown and have since written about other books I’ve worked on as well (see the sidebar for links).

Also, two years ago was a transitional period for me—I was starting a new chapter of my life, and wanted an outlet for my experiences, found it somewhat therapeutic to write, and having a blog gave me more incentive to write regularly. I also traveled a bunch that year and participated in a few “events” (skydiving, bike races, etc.) and I found it easier to post about each event, and then when friends asked me “how was your trip” or “how was skydiving?” I was able to just direct them to my blog. And also, since I’m not a writer or artist myself, it was nice to delve into the process of writing an “essay” of sorts, and writing something other than business correspondences or editorial letters.

The actual process of blogging felt very natural to me, as I've been in the habit of writing in a journal consistently since I was young, but realizing that people were actually reading what I was writing was harder to get used to. I eased into it by starting to blog in friendster where only my friends read it (and therefore those posts are a little more personal). But this year I made the jump to blogger, partially because some of my friends who weren't on friendster weren't able to comment or access it as easily, and partially because I was getting more used the the idea of having a public blog, and wanted others to read the posts about the books I've worked on, in the off chance that it might appeal to them and buy the books!

As most of you know, I've been struggling about how personal to be in this blog. Some of my friends have complained that I don't really talk about the "juicy" part of my life, which I interpret as the specifics of my personal life, dating, etc. Whereas other friends have praised me for being able to be so personal in this blog. I guess the basic feeling is that I don't feel comfortable giving too many details, because I don't know how the people involved would feel, and also a lot of people I don't personally know are reading the blog, and also a lot of children's book people. But it's my instinct to be very open and honest, and it feels unnatural censoring myself.

After realizing that people, including strangers, were actually reading my blog, another attraction to keeping writing was the whole "kindness of strangers" thing that made the marathon such a pleasure. I love communities, and strangers supporting strangers, and the idea that all of these people who I've never met were reading what I was writing and being supportive and kind, really appealed to me. I love being part of the online community.

In case anyone was curious, I do want to say that I've never had any intention to use my blog to solicit new talent for work, and I don't think I'll ever accept query letters via the blog. But I do want to be more "transparent" (the buzz word in my company right now)--to show people that "editors are people, too," to answer questions, to help people understand more what the industry is about (although these posts for the most part have been moved over the the Blue Rose Girls blog now).

And why am I not writing that book that I say I want to write? I know it's something I'd like to do someday, but to be honest, I don't think I have the true talent, drive, or the time right now. I know I could do it with hard work, but it would be a big commitment. I also think that the writing might detract from my editing right now, which is what I love and feel that I am equipped with the skills for. So for me, writing a book would be something I did after I retired, perhaps. Or if my company every decided to grant their employees a sabbatical or something. Or if I were in a different stage of my life.

Anyway, I thank you all for reading my blog and being so supportive. I don't have any intention to stop blogging any time soon. So keep reading!

Happy Holidays, one and all

As a Christmas present to himself (and the whole family, I guess), my father purchased a brand-new, state-of-the-art Karaoke machine. Now, we already had a Karaoke machine, but I guess it was time for an upgrade. (For those of you who wonder where I get my love of Karaoke and singing, it's in my genes!)

So two night ago, before waching a video, the family settled down to test out the new machine. As Ben sang U2's "With or Without You" my father looked and listened to the lyrics, shook his head sadly and said, "I can't live with or without you? Aw, that...that...sucks!"

So true.

It's been great being back. Despite a brief bout with what seemed to be a 24-hour bug which I'm blaming on exhaustion, things are looking up. Got a massage, facial, and haircut; went shopping; am eating lots of good food; watched movies (United 93 and Pursuit of Happyness); played games; picked fruit; read; good talks. Oh, and sleep. Lots of sleep.

Merry Christmas greetings from Southern California, where it's finally warm and sunny and Southern California-like. I wish everyone happiness, health, and peace.

The Adventures of Alvina and the Airport

I know it's crazy, but I think I forgot that it was the holiday season. I forgot why I went to so many parties these past two weeks, why I was eating so many fattening goodies, receiving holiday cards, I think I forgot why I was flying home. I must have, because that's the only explanation I can think of for my brain freeze.

Yesterday was my last day in the office, and I was flying out of Newark to Los Angeles at 7:35 pm. All fine and dandy, I've taken the NJTransit to the airport plenty of times. I checked the train schedule and saw that the 6:11 pm train got me to the airport by 6:38, which was a little less than an hour before my flight. Good enough, right? But since I had the check luggage due to the whole "no liquids" thing, I thought I'd play it safe and definitely try for an earlier train. In my mind, told myself I'd leave the office at 5:45 at the latest.

5:30 pm: I've happily finished an editorial letter I've been meaning to send for over 3 weeks now. It was looking like it might not happen before the holidays, but I felt good that it was done, that despite my lack of motivation this past week, I had accomplished something.

5:35 pm: Changing my outgoing message, setting my out-of-office email message, pleased that I'm doing this all in advance. Sorting through old emails...

5:38 pm: Suddenly realize that I'm planning on leaving at 5:45 pm to catch a 7:30 pm flight in Newark. That can't be right! What am I thinking?! Plus I need to pick up a prescription before I leave. I grab my stuff, yell "Bye" to my assistant and a few other people as I rush down the hallway.

5: 41 pm: I interrupt an old man talking to the cashier at Duane Reade. She is thankful for the interruption.

5:44 pm: I run onto the D train

5:55 pm: While running down 34th Street towards Penn Station, I answer a call from my best friend and gasp, "I'll call you back! I'm trying desperately to catch my train! I mean bus! I mean plane! Ahh!!"

6:01 pm: I look at a sea of people with suitcases trying to cram onto the 6:03 train to Newark airport. Sh*t. It is ONLY NOW that I remember that it is the holiday season. Holiday travel. Long lines. I look at the line, decide I won't make it on and might as well save some money to buy a ticket in advance for the next train. I look at both the super-long ticket machine line and just-as-long ticket counter line, and get in the ticket counter line. By this time, I'm sweating profusely. I take off two layers.

6:08 pm: Get my ticket, am told to go to gate 13 NOW and run. There's another sea of people trying to get into the tunnel to board. In my experience, I know there's an entrance on the other side, and once again, I RUN.

6:11 pm: Am on train, still sweating. Cram my suitcase into a little nook and settle in. Peel off another layer. My T-shirt is drenched. I feel sorry for the people around me. Will I make it? Will I make it?

6:13ish? Train departs. I decide not to look at the time any more. I'm trying to be zen. I can't control how fast the train goes. What's the worst that can happen? I miss my flight and have to go standby during the holiday season. Have the shlep from the Upper East Side to Newark. Augh. But it could be worse, I could be flying through Denver. I'm feeling pessimistic at this point. Picturing the long airport check-in and security lines. Hope that people will be calling certain flights up to the front. Wondering how I can face my mother when I call to tell her I've missed my flight. I had missed my connection during my last trip to LA--that time was not my fault, but still, this is not the kind of person I am. I'm responsible. I don't miss flights. Then again, I wonder how many times I have to miss flights before I become the type of person that misses flights.

6:40ish? Get off the train, run toward the Airtrain. For some inexplicable reason, the only escalator is going down, so I join the rest of the people and lug my suitcase and bag up three flights of stairs. Only slightly out of breath at the top--thank goodness for the marathon. Run and get on the Airtrain. Still haven't checked the time. It's out of my control, I'm just going to go as fast as I can.

Exit at Terminal C. I see a clock as I run. 6:46 pm.

Long snaking lines to check in. Damn that liquid bomb threat! I never used to check luggage. Should I toss out my liquids and check in electronically? Do I even have time for that? But I need my lotions, I need my contact solution, my prescription toothpaste, my shampoo. I get in line, looking for someone I can plead my case with. Commiserate with the woman behind me whose flight was scheduled to leave at 7:05, but was delayed 55 minutes. She isn't sure if she's too late to check in. The man she's with is looking into it. I'm kicking myself most because I know it's all my fault. The trains all lined up for me, I am not unlucky; I'm just an idiot.

I have about 15 minutes to make it to the front of the line. Will I make it? Should I be an aggressive bitch and cut in line? 5 minutes later, I've gone one row in the 4-row snake. Doesn't look good.

And then, from the heavens, I am saved.

"blah blah blah...Skycab...no lines..." says an announcement.

"Skycab!" the woman says.

"Holy sh*t!!" I'm off again, trying to beat all the other desperate passengers who heard the same thing. Out the doors, into a line, I'm second in line! Look at my cellphone. 7 pm. I have 5 minutes before the 30-minute check-in cut-off. Have I actually made it? I'm am so happy for the Skycab. I am so happy I'm not one of the desperate passengers behind me offering to bribe the Skycab to check her in.

7:02 pm. 3 minutes to spare! I'm handing the kind man a $5 tip to take care of my tiny rolling suitcase, and am running for security, praying that my luggage makes it on, too.

7:05pm: After going to two different wrong security lines, they push me through the shorter line.

7:10: I'm through! It's at this point that I realize I've made it. I stop to pee. I stop to buy a banana. I stroll up to my gate--there are still a few people boarding, but it looks pretty empty. I cram the rest of the banana in my mouth, throw away the peel, and get in line just as they announce the final boarding call and the standby passengers for the flight.

I'm tempted to high five the flight attendants and yell gleefully, I MADE IT! An overwhelming gratefulness and peace comes over me. Disaster averted.

7:15 pm. I'm seated at the window seat. I hope I don't smell too bad. The plane is hot.

7:25 pm: An announcement--all passengers are on board, but not the luggage, and they aren't going anywhere without the luggage. I look out the window and watch as they load the bags, and hey, there's mine! It made it on, life is good.

A brief thought goes through my mind--what if this plane crashes? I rushed to make a flight that resulted in my death. I shake the thought from my mind.

It was exciting, it was an adventure. It's the ol' "It's the hard that makes it great" line. And you know what? Fine, the marathon was great. All the drama with relationships will make it great when I find the right person. Actually making it on the flight was great. But I'm tired of hard for now. I'll settle for "fine" and "good" for a while. Give me easy for a bit, please.

Answer to query and Blue Rose Girl weekend

I answered the query that someone asked in the comment section below over at the Blue Rose Girls blog this morning. Check it out here. Also, as a reminder, since I'm so inept at adding links to the right of my blog (maybe my brothers can help me out when I'm home for the holidays?), the Blue Rose Girls blog is where I post most of my children's book-related musings. As I've said before, I'm happy for people to read this blog, but if you haven't already discovered the BRG's blog, you should check it out now! (As you can see, I'm very good at putting links within my posts!)

I had a wonderful weekend going up to Providence on Saturday for the RISD alumni holiday sale where fellow BRGs Anna Alter, Meghan McCarthy, and Grace Lin were selling their books, prints, and crafts. Libby Koponen and Elaine Magliaro also came up/down (respectively) for dinner after the sale. Grace passed out more of her yummy cupcakes, and I stuffed myself on soup, pate, and seafood mac and cheese (delicious, but not as good as this).

Then it was down to CT to hang out with Libby: calming yet stimulating talks, great home cookin', tea with honey and milk. And then on Sunday we went for a wonderful 10-mile bike ride through town and along the beach. I saw one thing I'd never seen before in my life, although I've heard/read about it many times. I watched as a seagull beat its wings against the gusty wind going up and up with something big in its beak which I quickly realized was a clam, release it to the rocks below, successfuly shattering the shell, and then swoop down to eat the meat inside. It was pure nature at its finest, and I was delighted for a long time by it. Heck, I'm still delighted that I saw it. Seagulls are both frightening (Finding Nemo! Those eyes!) and fascinating. My parents had the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull around the house when I was growing up, and I loved reading it and looking at the pictures, and it made me want to fly. I loved watching the seagulls float in the wind, soar, dive. I told Libby then that I hoped to someday take flying lessons. I think I started thinking about it back when Linda had posted some flight and plane-related posts. Not quite the same as flying like a seagull, but I think I'd like it.

Here are a few pics.

Me and the official BRG lender bike:
Libby showing off her new scarf (made by Grace) and her beautiful blue bike:
And the sea (complete with Christmas tree on the pier):
I had a lot of time to think about this past year and figure some things out on the bus ride up to RI, and then the train ride back to NY from New Haven Sunday night. It was exactly what I needed. I'm now looking forward to my tradition of writing down all of my New Year's resolutions and wishes, and am looking forward to starting fresh next year. But now, let the holiday madness begin!

Taiwan pics and randomness

...and added them to my post below, as well as a couple more fun facts.

And what else. I'm tired. Work has been crazy every since I got back. Deadlines everywhere. Updating title fact sheets. Preparing for focus meeting. Writing catalog copy. Editing. Preparing acquisition meeting proposals. Reviewing copyedited manuscripts. Reading manuscript for edit meeting. Writing flap copy. Finalizing cover specs. Answering emails. Answering phones. Putting out fires. Not answering emails. Trying to ignore the smoke. Wanting another vacation.

And I'll stop before I have a repeat of this other post. But I feel the same way. There's too much to do. And I feel bad because I'm letting deadlines I've set for authors slide in exchange for keeping the in-house deadlines. Once again, Connie has been a life saver, doing most of the work, keeping me on schedule. Props to Connie! Woo-hoo!

I've managed to have some fun--went to our monthly Karaoke outing last night--although tonight I was planning on going out but was too tired. Watched my man Yul continue to kick ass on Survivor. Not to jinx him, but he could actually win this! He has a 1 in 6 chance now (And did you know that you can watch full episodes online?). I'm catching up on one of the best shows in television, Dexter on Showtime On Demand right now, and will go to sleep early. Twisted, disturbing, and brilliant. Kinda like your mom. (Oh, sorry, that's the kind of thing my friend James would say.)

Okay, I'm obviously delirious. Time for bed.

She's ba-ack

Update 12/9: added pics

crying Amanda and Aunt Marjorie"2G"--the cousins

"1G"--the parents

our crazy tour bus: home for a week

the view from the top of Taipei 101

Cousin JoAnn, me, Ben, and cousin Rich

I'm back from Taiwan! I got back late Tuesday night, but managed to stay awake during the majority of my flight, so was able to fall asleep after I got home and slept soundly till 8 am. It was a good trip. Not great, but good. I'm not sure it was quite the vacation I needed at the time, because it was overscheduled and not very relaxing. But it was still fun.

I arrived in Taiwan on Sunday morning, met some of my relatives at the airport who also arrived that morning, then was off the the hotel where the rest of my relatives were staying, got on the tour bus, and was off. It seemed that every minute of the tour was scheduled. Wake up call at 7. Breakfast at 7:30. Load the bus at 8:30. We were at a different hotel every night, so each morning we had to pack up all of our luggage and go. But it was a good way to see the whole island, and bus time was time to catch up with relatives I hadn't seen in a while, nap, play cards (Taiwanese poker, hearts, gin), video games (Bust a Move!), eat snacks, watch movies--some good (Princess Bride! Snakes on a Plane!), some bad (Snakes on a Plane!), some pirated (Snakes on a Plane!). We made plenty of restroom stops at these tourist traps where the same assortment of snacks and knicknacks were on display, and the vendors called out to us as we walked by "Ni hao! Ni cong nali lai?" (Hello! Where are you from?) Most people guessed that I was from Singapore or Malaysia. It seemed that a few aunts bought some kind of snack at each stop, and once we got back on the bus, the bags of snacks would be passed around--always something different. Mochi, sesame candy, mooncakes, crackers, oranges, etc. My cousin Andrew bought a different milk tea or coffee project at every convenience store we passed. I got a papaya milk from 7-11 and BBQ ribs-flavored Ruffles. We saw a dam, waterfalls, a gorge, swam in hot springs, played ping pong, pool, video games, worked out, watched HBO in hotel rooms, went to night markets, shopped, went to museums, Tsunah, an Aborigine village, Taoyuan, Hualian, Kenting, Tainan, Taichung, Taipei. It was a packed trip, to be sure. The food was the best part. Breakfast buffets at the hotel every morning--congee every day! We didn't have a Thanksgiving dinner, but we did pig out at a fancy buffet dinner in Tainan.

Things I learned on this trip that I never knew before:

1) The crease I've always had on my arm, about an inch above my inner elbow, is apparently a sign of aborigine blood. My mother also has the mark, and said that when she was younger her classmates would tease her about it. It wasn't desirable to have aborigine blood. My father and younger brother do not have the mark. Not sure about my older brother. My mother said that my father's nose is a sign of Dutch blood.

2) When my mother told her mother that she was engaged, my grandmother was worried, because she had not yet met my father (since they had gotten engaged so quickly). So she asked my mother where my father went to college, and then called some friends/professors she knew there to check up on him, see if he was a good guy, check his transcripts. Everything confirmed that he was not bad, so she approved of the match.

3) I remember both more and less Chinese than I thought.

4) Ben can read on buses and cars--I had thought that he got carsick like me.

5) There is a Thai instrument that was made from human femur bones, traditionally made from people who have died violent deaths.

6) The Taiwanese Atayal aborigine people used to have a tradition of head hunting and tattooing.

7) I like smelly tofu.

8) I can't eat enough wax apples and kong xin cai (water spinach).

wax apples

9) It seems that Taiwanese Americans look younger than the Taiwanese who grew up in Taiwan, at least in my family.

10) Distant cousins who live in Taiwan have read my blog, particularly my Love Story post and Marathon post.

11) One (or more) of my aunts is obsessed with marriage, and doesn't think women can be happy if they don't get married. She also thinks that whiter skin is prettier than dark skin, and thinks I'm lighter now than I was nine years ago when I lived in Taiwan. She can't understand why I'm not married.

12) Taipei has a great subway system now.

Added on 12/7:
13) KFC has the best egg custard

banana egg custard from KFC

14) My family has a temple that honors our ancestors called the Hwang family temple, and my mother's relatives who maintain it own a golf ball company

Hwang family temple

golf balls

That's all I have for now. At any rate, it's good to be back. I always love coming back to New York after vacation--a sure sign to me that I consider New York to be home.

I haven't really been jetlagged much--I've been getting a bit tired in the afternoon, but not horribly so. I hope I can fend it off. I'll try to post some pictures tomorrow--I took over 400 of them. Now it's time for bed!

the week after

Here's a video my friend Miguel took of me during the marathon. This was at mile 11. Pardon my chomping on a Power Bar.



Yesterday morning I woke up and suddenly wasn't sore anymore--and today I'm feeling the first pang of letdown. There is no longer a physical reminder of my adventure, and I'm already wondering what my next one will be. I knew this would happen, just didn't want it to happen so quickly! It's funny how both unexpected and predictable life is sometimes.

In other news, I've had a fun week of happy hours, including the kidlit blogging drinks on Monday night--it was fun seeing so many familiar faces, and meeting some new people--I love the children's book community!

And finally...why does Grey's Anatomy have to be so gut-wrenching? Then again, you just know. That happy couple will be happy again. At least for a while.

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.

new post and still sick

Okay, not to whine but I actually felt sicker today, so I stayed home even though there was so much going on at work. I managed to take care of at least one thing that needed to get done, in between trips to my bed. I had no energy at all today. I hope TWO days at home in a row will help me feel better by tomorrow! I really hope to make it in to work. Partially because there's lots to do, but mostly because I have the awful feeling that I left a mug with a used tea bag in it on my desk, and if I don't make it in until Monday, I dread what it'll look like. I could ask my assistant to clean it for me tomorrow, but I don't like to ask assistants to do stuff like that.

In the meantime, check out my new post about In the Break by Jack Lopez over at the Blue Rose Girls site.

The curiosities of health

I'm taking a break from working at home, editing a manuscript on my kitchen table. I love these work-at-home days, one of the perks of being an editor. Of course, it's just as well because...

This morning I went to the doctor and apparently I have a slight case of bronchitis, and inflamation of the lymph nodes and other nodes, etc. It's kinda surprising, because all things considered, I don't feel that sick. And, in fact, I ran 10 miles on Sunday and 3.5 miles last night. I did feel like I was coming down with something at the end of last week, but I guess I convinced myself that it was allergies. I am a strong believer in the power of your mind to heal your body. I tend to ignore sicknesses or "fend them off" (I heart Airborne!) and in general I don't get sick very often. And when I do, I try to power through it and try not to complain about it. I used to scoff at my whiney friends who would wallow in their sicknesses.

I also don't usually go to the doctor when I'm sick, but last night I discovered a lump on my neck that was weird (like little marbles under my skin), and Sachin said over and over, Go to the doctor. Go to the doctor. Get it checked out. Go to the doctor. I guess that's one thing good (one of many!) about significant others: they make you do things you should do that you don't really want to do. I've had this kind of thing before, although usually on my throat, not the side of my neck, so although I wasn't too worried, I also knew it was probably the type of thing that would require antibiotics, and I was right.

This made me think back to my CA trip. My mother, as usual, brought me to see a Taiwanese doctor who tested my energy levels and took a blood sample and looked at it under a microscope. Apparently, my health had deteriorated since my last visit, and my blood was unhealthy--all clumped together with microscopic bugs in it. He said my immune system was down and that even though I felt healthy, that he tends to see health issues before they manifest themselves as symptoms. He prescribed some herbal medicine for me, which I have reluctantly been taking. I couldn't help but wonder if he had predicted this sickness, or if the mere suggestion that I wasn't healthy was enough for my brain to allow myself to get sick. And I wondered if stretching myself by running was what aggravated the sickness. And I wondered if the flooding on Thursday night was what caused it--if the water had jarred loose mold and dust from the building that caused my symptoms, first allergies, then cold, then bronchitis. And I wondered if living in the city, in general, was taking a toll on my health.

Who knows. At any rate, I'm supposed to take it easy (lucky for me to have already scheduled a work-at-home day today so I don't really have to leave my apartment), and no running for 5 days or so, which is okay since I should be fine in time for the half marathon on the 27th. She prescribed me an inhaler for when I do run again--cool! I've never used one of those before. I wonder if they're illegal to use for the marathon.

And now back to work again...although I may need to squeeze a nap into my day, too. I haven't slept well, and last night I was so congested that I would let out little moans involuntarily that would wake me up. Weird. My doctor suggested taking Claritin before bed to help me sleep. I'll see how tonight goes.

Stay healthy, people!

My weekend, and burnout prevention

I just had one of the best Sundays in a long time--because I had nothing planned. Well, I guess I had three things I wanted to do: laundry, clean the bathroom, and run 10 miles. And I did all three. I also was able to catch up with a Project Runway marathon, preparing for my run by eating leftover pepperoni from Tanya's baby shower.

I had a baby-filled weekend. My book group trip up to Westchester county was so wonderful. A 9-month baby to play with--I love that sturdy baby age, when their head no longer lolls around, when you don't feel like you're going to damage them by holding them. We talked about the book, of course, and our usual publishing gossip, and another thing we talked about was the possibility of burnout in our careers. Many of us were on the brink. The past few weeks have been extremely stressful, but I don't feel like I'm quite there--and I know that Sundays like this help prevent burnout. I overextend myself, I know. I want to go out, have fun, plan wedding showers and baby showers for my friends, read manuscript for all my coworkers, go to conferences, travel to visit friends, entertain friends and family in NY, run marathons, be in multiple book groups...it's part of the reason one of my New Year's resolutions was: Take more time for myself, don't over schedule, have at least one free night each week.

I don't know if I've quite fulfilled that resolution, so I should be more vigilant about it. Because unscheduled days like this go a long way in preventing burnout. I need to not think about work, not do any work.

Saturday was the baby shower--the mother-to-be managed to get up all 6 flights of stairs, and it was a lovely time. Antonella had her baby with her--about three-months-old, so not quite at the really sturdy stage, but getting there. So sweet. Great food--too much food. Food of our childhoods. Mini burgers, ants on a log, Flavorice, cupcakes decorated with umbrellas, Pringles, and more. In keeping with the theme, we played "stick the pacifier on the baby." Too bad there wasn't room to play musical chairs. It was a beautiful day, so we chilled on the terrace afterwards. Perfect, perfect, perfect weather.

And then today. I slept in, puttered around, posted the Blue Rose Girls' Question of the Week, and then did all the rest. I wasn't feeling too hot health-wise--have had a scratchy throat since Friday morning and was congested and sneezing all day Saturday, but my Rose told me that even when she's feeling under the weather, she finds that once she starts running she forgets about it, so I decided to run any way, and I'm glad I did.

It's funny--part of my motivation for making the whole 10 miles was that I knew I could write it in my blog. At the conference I talked to a few people about running marathons, and running in general, and one thing we agreed on is the attraction to the sport in that it's uniquely measurable. Nobody can take away the fact that I've run 10 miles. When I started running in college, I had never run even one mile without stopping, and because of this I was so proud at each milestone. On the way back from the track, I would stop in my floormates room and announce how far I'd run. After a few weeks of this, my friend said in an annoyed tone, "Why do you always announce how far you ran?" and I realized that it was a motivating factor for me, I was proud of my progress and wanted to announce it.

So, this blog is good for something, I guess. I RAN 10 MILES TODAY! There. Next week, I plan to run 11 miles, the most I've ever run. And then the half marathon is in two weeks. I'm feeling good about it. But I'm not going to overdo the training--don't want to burn out before November.

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.

Food adventures

I can tell that I've been devouring too much television/blogs/media when I start feeling like my real-life experiences are mimicking them. This weekend roadtrip to Western Mass for Julie and Jim's wedding felt very much like a Food Network show like Rachel Ray's $40 a Day, or even The Hungry Cabbie blog.

On our trip up, we decided to stop for lunch around 1 pm, and decided to exit the next time "food" was designated by the freeway sign. I thought it would be nice to try something local, non-chain fast food, and after passing this place:


we did a U-turn and went back to it. It was called Carville's Ranch House, and it looked great. Sachin and Dennis both got cheeseburgers, and I got a veggie grinder (we were in grinder country!) and fried clams. I can't say any of the food was the best I've ever had, but it was solid, and the place had a good vibe. As I was taking the picture, and older patron told me mid-chew that the place had been around for 60 years, and he used to come there as a kid over 40 years ago. He now lived in Florida, but decided to stop by while passing through. "But don't come here at night" he said, "this is a horrible neighborhood." Heh. Seemed okay to me.

Once in Deerfield, MA we passed a sign for "Bub's BBQ" off the 5/10, and so on Saturday we had some free time for lunch before the wedding and decided to check it out. It was 5 miles away in Sunderland, MA.














Yum! We decided to share a combo of spare ribs and pulled pork, which came with all-you-can eat cold and hot bars, so we were stuffed. The ribs and pork were delicious--great seasoning--but I think we were both taken by the sides of hickory smoked potatoes, orange glazed sweet mashed potatoes, dirty rice, collard greens, etc. etc. Sachin got a local beer: Berkeshire Brewing Company's Steel Rail, that was very flavorful and good. And only $3. The total bill came out to be about $25--maybe a bit pricey for lunch, but a ton of food and totally worth it.

After the wedding we dropped Dennis off in Flushing, and then since we had the car we took the opportunity to go to Sachin's favorite Falafel place, Naomi's Kosher Pizza, which is nowhere near a subway stop. Yeah, sounds weird (Kosher...pizza...Falafel?), but it was awesome. Sachin was disappointed I wasn't raving about the Falafel more at the time, but I was a bit nauseated from the car, and really, although I like Falafel, I generally don't find that one place is so different from another. But truly, they were great, and certainly worth trying--and actually different from other Falafel I've had. Not as crispy or hard as usual, a bit softer and with a nice smooth texture. The tahini and hot sauces there were excellent. The place was a total trip--pizza and Middle Eastern food on the menu, a very diverse clientele, and buzzing at 4 pm on a Sunday. Anyway, afterwards we went to Chinatown Flushing and walked around a bit, and then found a random teashop called Tong's or Tang's on Main Street where we got drinks (Watermelon Milk Shake for Sachin, Plum Red Tea for me) and a bowl of wonton noodle soup. Perfect.

I also bought a bundle of my favorite vegetable kong xin cai (water spinach--or literally translated as empty heart vegetable, as the stems are hollow) to cook when I got home, stir-fried it up with garlic and olive oil and ate it for both dinner that night and lunch the next day. The perfect finish to the perfect food weekend. And I didn't even mention the wedding food which was also excellent. Tuna shish-kebabs, noodles with peanut sauce, mahi mahi, and the desserts! Oh, the desserts. This was one of the cakes from that awesome dessert party:

When I was a kid, I remember reading about how in the future people will be nourished via pills, and I was horrified. I get so much enjoyment from eating. I look forward to each meal, each food adventure, and since I don't have picky taste buds, I tend to like almost everything I try.

I'm hungry now. What's for breakfast?