How Long is 27 Years?

Today is my birthday. 27 years ago, this morning, I was born into the world and started breathing the air and learning to live. First there was eating and sleeping, then walking and talking, followed by reading, drawing, laughing, crying, worrying, dreaming, et cetera, et cetera.

Oh, and loving, of course. There was always loving.

Life is strange. Whenever something monumental happens to you, you always look back on your old self like some other person, living some other life. But, if the change was good, you thank that person for making those decisions, often quite blindly, that created the you and the life you’re living now. In some ways, they are the mothers of the new you, the ones who endured the pain and the unknown to give birth to fresh life, to the possibility of better things. Their sacrifice made your joy possible.

So, um, thanks old me. It was all worth it.

Anyway, as my friends at UMBC were quick to inform me, it’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog. I will attempt to cram all that New Yorky goodness into this post.

Ben and Natalie’s Visit
Our buddies Ben and Nat drove up in the new Natmobile at the end of January to spend the long weekend with us, and what a weekend it was! We enjoyed many lovely meals, including some pho in Chinatown, some sushi in Greenwich Village, and some Ben’s Specialty Thai Chicken at home. Adam and Ben jammed on their guitars, and we drank and played Mario Party as per usual. Since it was Nat’s birthday, we also picked up some delicious cookies and cakes at a bakery in Greenwich. Since it was bloody freezing that weekend, we stayed inside a lot and just hung out. Another lovely visit from our Maryland lovers. We hope they’ll be back soon!

The Race, and That Almost-Vomiting Feeling
So on February 3^rd (otherwise known as Superbowl Sunday), Adam and I ran our first race with the New York Roadrunners: The 4-mile Gridiron Classic. We had joined this club in hopes of forcing ourselves to keep fit, and also because we have several friends who are members and have talked it up a lot. So, Adam and I went to the gym (well, me, mostly, but I’m not bragging, as you’ll soon see…) and practiced and trained. And then it was upon us, and there was nothing to do but double knot our shoelaces and pray.

We were up in Central Park by 8:30 for the 9 a.m. race, and it was cold. I was somewhat bundled, wearing yoga pants, a long sleeve t-shirt under a sweatshirt, a hat, and gloves, but I was still freezing. It wasn’t until later that I would regret the thick layers. As we stood in the crowd, we watched as what seemed like thousands of runners poured into the park like a great tide of fitness, bare legs and arms scoffing at the cold. Meanwhile, I stretched and tried to appear confident. The truth is, I am a slow runner. And I mean, really slow. Blind, deformed tortoises crawling through a river of molasses would have a leg up on me. I. Am. Slow.

So you get my point. Plus, I just don’t have a lot of stamina. I was never an athlete, so I don’t have that handy muscle memory to be like, “Oh, yeah, I remember this. Okay.” No. My muscles experience running and act like Puritans being forced to experience television. Exercising? More like exorcising. Anyway, there I was and boom, the race begins.

At first, everything was great. I had my iPod on, I was pumped, I was feeling good. Then, maybe about a quarter of a mile later, I start getting tired. And I mean really tired. I slow down. Sixty-five­ year old retirees with false teeth pass me with apparent ease. I start getting panicky which only makes things worse. Adam, who is loping along like a gazelle, tries to keep me upbeat. “Come on!” he says. “You can do it! Keep going!” So I keep going. Throughout the four miles, I felt many emotions: determination, worry, fear, despair, elation, a deep-seated hatred for hills, shame, pride, and finally, that almost-vomiting feeling, which came upon me as I crossed the finish line at top speed. What happened was, Adam--who, angel as he is, stayed with me the whole time despite the fact that he could have easily left me in the dust—wanted to keep me running (not walking) till the end once the finish line came into sight. I kept going, but those last 100 yards were the end of me. I blurted out, “I…can’t…go…any…more…” and he yelled, “ONE LAST PUSH!” And so I pushed. I sprinted, actually, those last 100 yards to the finish line. And once I did, I came to a grinding halt. And then, I wanted to barf. The need filled my being, and paralyzed me on the spot. Adam had to drag me to a nearby bench and force a cup of water into my hand before the feeling passed. And slowly, I came to the realization that we had done it. And, amazingly enough, in only 49 minutes, which is a great time for me. After gorging ourselves on hot chocolate, bagels and apples, and talking to our speedy runner friends, we headed home, where I proceeded to collapse onto the couch and remain there on a heating pad for the majority of the afternoon.

Can you believe we’re doing another one in a couple of weeks? I guess I love to suffer.

Miscellany
In the weeks to follow, we’ve done some other assorted things like attend an amazing gallery opening for one of GW’s illustrators, where I met up with many of my colleagues and lots of authors and illustrators, too. It was a wonderful evening, and it was so much fun introducing Adam to people and giving him a peek into that world that I’m becoming a part of. I love it more than ever!

We also had the opportunity to see The Lion King on Broadway, which Adam had seen years ago, but I never have! It was an absolutely breathtaking show, and we had amazing seats in the center orchestra. Worth every penny! And afterwards, we walked out of the theatre and straight into a freak blizzard that blew into Manhattan like a hurricane. It was surreal being in Times Square and having these huge white flakes blowing sideways into your face and covering you up in three moments. We warmed ourselves up in a nearby diner on sandwiches and coffee before heading home.

Birthday Weekend
This weekend was spent in Maryland with family, and we enjoyed the company (and the food, of course) immensely. Mom got to introduce us to the new cat, Mookie, with great pride. He’s a lug and she is thrilled. Adam spent a great deal of time playing a game called God of War, which seemed to entertain my parents for hours. I was annoyed at the over-the-top gore and unnecessary sex scenes at first, but it got better as the game went on, and became sort of funny, sitting there watching Adam play video games with my parents. Lots of fun. The kids are enormous, and smart as ever. It’s so odd watching them grow up so fast. Nikki and I got in a lot of baby talk, and while we were at her house she led me into the storage room so I could survey the things that would be mine, i.e. maternity clothes for all seasons, a crib, assorted child rearing equipment, and crates of clothes separated by age. It was amazing and scary seeing all of that and knowing that those things are now tangible for me, are just around the corner in the great scheme of things. Having a sister so much older than I was separated us for most of our lives, we were always close, but we never really were at the same place at the same time. It’s only natural, being nine years apart. But somehow in that moment, when she opened the door and pointed out the baby clothes and we discussed the measurements of the crib and the necessity of interrogating your OBGYN, those nine years seemed finally to melt away and become a thing of the past. A mother is a mother, after all.

While we were there my Dad happened to inquire about all of my old friends, and what they were doing now. This was because my old buddy Nick was coming to visit that evening, who I hadn’t seen in many months. I filled him in on everyone, friends living on all corners of the country, getting PhD’s, working in high places, getting married, all those things. And at the end of it, he said, “Well, it seems that all of them are doing really well, aren’t they?” And I thought about it and well, yeah, they were all doing well. “I had really smart friends,” I said. And I smiled. I had really great friends. It made me feel good to think about them all, like balloons, connected to me by these long, billowy strings that made my heart feel light as air. Buoyant, you know? And there I was, with my family who was connected to me too, with even tighter knots. And when you think of your life that way, with these long strings connecting you to all the people you love who keep you afloat, it’s hard to ever feel alone.

Thanks for another great year of life, everyone. Until next time…