Puppets, Boobies, Hiking and Biking

Happy Patriots' Day, lovers! Let's all celebrate by drinking early and watching the marathoners run by!

Oh wait, I live in New York City, not Boston. Guess I'll have to celebrate by going to work and keeping my running sneakers on instead of changing into my dress shoes. Good thing Coach B is sending email updates roughly every six minutes so I can keep track of my friends'/teammates' pacing every step of the way! Seriously, he sent eight emails during today's race - though it's supercool that our women's 40+ team took fourth place. Hi, I'm JackieOh, and I like to live vicariously.

On Friday night after a few plans fell through I got a text message from Coach G: Want to go to a puppet show on the LES?

Um, sure.

So at 9:30 I arrived at a tiny theatre on Clinton Street, the door to which was manned by a girl wearing a toga and wrapped in silk flowers and vines. Good start. I took my seat next to Coach G and adjusted to the volume level of the audience. Everyone around me was yelling and banging the tambourines and maracas that were doled out on each seat. A few minutes later we were joined by the N Sisters, friends from running class, who looked equally perplexed by the rowdy scene.

Then the play/performance/thingy started. I don’t know how to explain it, or what it was about at all. There was a man dressed as a giant mouth, and he was attacked by a killer badger (which we tried to ward off with our percussion instruments); there were girls dancing around in what looked like shrimp costumes; and there were marionettes. Thankfully, we armed ourselves with big paper cups-full of wine – avant-garde theatrical performances should mandate a certain level of alcohol consumption anyway.

After the show Coach G led us to a nearby burlesque bar, theorizing that the only way to top what we’d just seen would be mostly-naked ladies swinging their nipple tassels around. He was right, I guess, and the burlesque show was a delicious mix of seediness and entertainment. TN and I have our sights set on new careers…maybe there’s a niche market for flat-chested runner chicks in the burlesque world! Anyway, it was a great night that could only happen in New York.

On Saturday I was awake before sunrise to marshal the bike race in Central Park. The race was pretty weak because all the good riders were racing upstate instead, but thankfully that made it much shorter than usual. I like watching bike racing the same way I like watching running racing: because I enjoy standing near the finish line and cheering on my friends. Being assigned to stand at a designated light post and blowing a whistle every time the field passes is obviously less fun. But you have to marshal if you want to race, so there I was.

Afterwards, I joined girl friends J and SJ for hiking outside of the city. We didn’t get lost, we brought enough water, the weather was perfect…it was so much fun. I love hiking! I’m hooked now. Back in Manhattan, we celebrated our expert hiking skills with burgers and sangria on an outdoor restaurant patio. We were dirty, tired, a little sunburned (despite our careful sunscreen application), but oh, so happy. There is something wonderful about having female friends who can talk about boys and weddings and all that girlie stuff – while trekking through the woods or riding around the park at dawn! I’ve really hit the jackpot.

On Sunday morning QZ dragged my tired butt across the bridge and up and down River Road. It was a chilly, windy ride and he’s much, MUCH better than me, but I did my best to cling to his back wheel for dear life. He gave me such hell when I showed up at his apartment wearing a bandana under my helmet and a running shirt under my jersey – apparently I didn’t look enough like a “real” cyclist and I needed his hat and arm warmers. Real cyclists, I’m learning, feel the insane urge to match everything from their helmet down to the paint job on their superfancy bikes. The only reason any of my gear matches is because I tend to buy things in my favorite colors red and black. When I get any good on the bike maybe I can justify the matchy-matchy gear, but until then I’d just look like another New York diva cyclist with more money than ability. Sorry, QZ, I’m sticking with my bandana…but I’m keeping your arm warmers.

We Don't Swim In Your Bathroom

Stupid legs.

It will come as a surprise to exactly no one that I have sustained yet another running-related injury. My pelvic support muscles are apparently weak, so I've been forcing my hip flexors and quadriceps to pull double duty to compensate. On Thursday evening when I got to running class, my left rectus femoris decided it had enough of working extra and cried mercy. Walking is painful – forget about running. Brace yourselves, dear readers: it’s going to be a bumpy journey along my mental sanity for the next few weeks. NO RUNNING. Ugh.

I’ve been relegated to the pool. Thank goodness for MomOh dragging us to swim team practice every day in the summer when we were kids - I guess some of that training stuck with me, and it turns out I'm still a pretty good swimmer. Also, I'm still wearing my swim team suit from...1998. Might be time to invest in a new bathing suit. Okay, so while I'd rather be outside in Central Park (especially now that the weather is getting warmer), at least I can get a solid, pain-free workout. Except I stink like chlorine no matter how many times I shower and there is this tiny little issue with me and pools. And peeing. The second I get in the pool, I have to go. Seeing as I'm not four years old anymore, I'm relatively sure this is not socially acceptable behavior for an indoor gym pool. Of course there aren't any toilets on the pool level, so I have to drip up the stairs in the locker room and then wrestle myself out of a wet bathing suit. It's a real problem.

Anyway, I’m going to physical therapy three days a week, which has so far just been a lot of ultrasound treatment and ice to ease the inflammation. My physical therapist seems to be experimenting with taping up my hip, though I don’t feel like it makes an ounce of difference. On Friday she ran a strip of hot pink tape from my navel to my knee; today it’s a bright blue asterisk centered on the most painful area of the upper leg. It's a sexy look, let me assure you.

I’m currently nursing my wounds with a cocktail of ibooze around the clock and a big bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup. Ah, the joys of going to the grocery store hungry.

Oh, So Many Running Skirts

It is possible that you don’t know this about me, because you don't interact with me every day (poor, unfortunate souls!), but I’ve been on top of the world lately. Everything is coming up JackieOh in this Year of Yes. All of my Life Plans are almost ready to fall into place perfectly, and I'm making the most of every last minute I have here in New York City.

I was just telling a friend the other night that I feel like I have something to look forward to nearly every weekend until the end of July when I have to leave, and this past one was no exception.

On Saturday morning I got up early to watch QZ and my other cycling friends compete in the bike race in Central Park. I wanted to be out there, and I'll get there eventually (maybe next weekend!) but, well, I'm terrified of bike racing. It’s not like running at all, where the strongest, fastest guy wins. There are team strategies and lead-outs and field sprints and get this – if you flat out or get dropped from the pack, you just quit the race! That Never Give Up attitude of mine isn't really applicable here. My cycling friends reassure me that I’m strong and will be a good racer, but I’m not quite so convinced. There are crashes all the time in bike racing! Don't they realize how klutzy I am?

After the race QZ and I got breakfast and then cleaned our bikes. Well okay, it was more like he cleaned while I watched and tried not to get sprayed by the hose, but my bike looks so shiny and new! At least I'll look good out there next weekend when I'm shaking in my spandex.

Saturday was a good day, but Sunday was downright wonderful. I ran my first half-marathon! My friend and teammate LZ and I competed together in the More Magazine half-marathon, an all-women's race that consists of two clock-wise loops of Central Park starting on the East Drive and finishing at Tavern on the Green. It was fun! And painful! We stayed together the whole time, and kept a steady training pace to finish well under the two-hour mark.

Now, I'm as much a feminist as the next youngish, liberalish, overeducated, two-x-chromosome-having New Yorker, but something about these women-only races makes me want to sprint away in the opposite direction. On Friday I went to the expo to pick up our race numbers and tshirts, and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. There were stations for makeovers and hairdryers; ladies were lined up to get manicures and purchase pink running shirts emblazoned with the phrase “I Run Like A Girl.” Hey, let’s embrace all the negative stereotypes about female athletics and repackage them under the guise of empowerment! Sure, I love manicures (and the color pink, for that matter), but let’s leave them out of a marathon and half-marathon expo, okay ladies?

On Sunday LZ and I lined up for the start in our fluorescent yellow racing jerseys and black tights amidst a sea of pretty coordinating tops and running skirts. Oh, so many running skirts. I cringed when the race director announced “You’re all beautiful!” before sounding the gun…but once we got going, I had to admit that the overall atmosphere was so warm and supportive that it made running 13.1 miles (almost) enjoyable. Then somewhere around mile twelve LZ and I fell entirely under the spell of women’s racing and exchanged those mushy “I’m so happy to have a friend like you!” sentiments. Funny how distance running can draw out emotions, even from chicks like us.

After the race, my coach (really outdoing himself this time in the jackass category) sent out an email with pictures of team members running in the race accompanied by this note:

“Fun runners waving to the camera were eliminated. Focus on your effort and the pain to achieve your ultimate glory.”

“Eliminated” from the pictures? Me and LZ.

Times They Are A-Changin'

Whoa. You guys.

Easy resigned today. His last day is Friday.

I mean, I’m not at all surprised. Nice Hedge Fund made him a very rich man and now he wants to go off and start his own fund. God bless him…and whomever he hires to be his executive assistant because if there is one thing that man is lacking, it’s common sense. He can execute trades at the global level, but good luck getting him to remember to bring in his check book.

Naturally, I have mixed feelings about all this. Easy was a very nice boss – when he remembered that I existed. His dopey, lost-puppy cluelessness could be charming sometimes when I wanted to appeal to my more sensitive side. (Okay, rarely.) I was constantly frustrated by the way he’d give me half-assed task instructions as he blew past my desk on the way down to the trading floor, a drive-by boss. But I was hired to be his assistant and therefore felt a sense of responsibilty toward him, with all the other guys on a peripheral level, so I guess I’m going to miss him.

I knew something was amiss all day. He had a long meeting with Mr. Nice Hedge Fund as soon as he arrived at the office. He asked me to schedule a breakfast at the place where the guys always go when there is some kind of turmoil. And then he asked for moving boxes.

Finally, around 2PM, he called me into his office to tell me what I already gleaned. He made a passing comment about needing an assistant; I told him I'm going to grad school in the fall. Then he asked me to edit his Goodbye, Thanks for All the Great Work, and Here Is My Contact Info Email that everyone feels so fucking obligated to send when they quit. (I made him remove specific names to avoid leaving anyone out, but overall kept the letter as stupid and sappy as he wrote it.)

Anyone want to bet a dollar that I'll be packing up more bosses before the end of my tenure here? The Easys are a Global Macro Team, a unit, and I can't imagine that they wouldn't try to stick together. Easier can't leave just yet - the Canuck needs Nice Hedge Fund to assist his naturalization. But as soon as that green card comes through...well, we'll see.

And here I was thinking, hey, adding Boss #5 finally brought me to critical mass capacity! I actually felt busy during the day! So much for that. Unpacked one boss last week only to pack up another this week.

As usual, THE STARS KNOW THINGS. Let's take a little gander at today's horoscope:

Your foundations are rattled and you need to quickly figure out the best way to maintain stability. It's really not as bad as it first appears and you could become very excited about the possibilities. The greatest obstacle could be your resistance to uncertainty. You like to feel secure by building on solid ground, but may have to live with less structure for a while.

Thank goodness there's a light at the end of this Admin tunnel.