Men's Health Urbanathlon, #789

I've never seen Central Park in such a fog. It was almost 7am, almost race time, and I was almost at the start line, but not quite. I observed the quietness of the park at that hour. The only audible sounds were the pounding feet of the regular morning runners making their rounds around the main loop. I start seeing people who were there for the same purpose as me and I follow them. I'm more nervous than I was right before I went skydiving. Is it strange that I was more afraid of this than falling out of an airplane?

I find D and we head to the start line JUST as the race was about to begin. We've got our respective ipods strapped in, give each other a high five, and get to work. It was certainly surreal jogging across 72nd street at 7am with 1500 other people under this immense fog. I wonder if any of the people sleeping cozily in the nearby buildings are aware of this mass of runners just beneath them. We decide to split as we get on the path along the Hudson. I notice that I can't even really see New Jersey just across the river. I look ahead of me. I look to the side. I try to focus on the carefully curated playlist I'd tweaked the night before in preparation. My feet are already wet and the unseemly thought of blisters pops into my head. Will I have to abort the race because of blisters? Luckily D told me he was going to get dri fit socks the night before and I made a hasty stop at Paragon to pick up socks and a longish pair of chocolate running shorts.

I stay at my own pace and run to my own beat, after all, my goal was to finish without stopping. This was not a race of speed but rather a challenge of the mind and body. Could I do this? I notice runners with "Go Army" tees pass me and I realize that I'm going up against people who run drills like this regularly at work, who've likely seen war, and who will leave me in the dust. But no matter, this is not a race. I see the first obstacle and think, "Here we go Barb." I see D exit the obstacle as I approach it. I jump and crawl my way through it easily. "That wasn't so bad, I hope they're all like this," I think. I left a piece of skin behind while crawling through one of the tubes. I'm bleeding. Great. I skip the water stop and head on. No stopping. No stopping.

I jog along, past the 34th street heliport and see a couple about to split. "Go on," she motions. As he pulls ahead of her. I end up in line with him, running at an awkwardly similar pace right next to each other, one of us hoping to pull ahead and leave the other behind for solitude. He pulls ahead of me. I see two cars of people pull up near 14th street with signs looking for the runners they came to support. "Cute," I think. Onward. I see the pier where the second set of obstacles are sure to be. I crawl. I wipe by hands on my shirt before gripping the monkey bars, sure that I will fall off before reaching the other side. Did I train for this? "If you fall off, you'll have to backtrack a lap and try again," I hear. I miraculously get across in one shot. Pain sears trough my shoulders and traps. "How the hell did I just do that?" I see the marine hurdles which might as well be walls. The logjam leading up to it served as a nice break. "How am I gonna do this?" I turn around and ask the guy behind me, "Will you boost me if I need it?"

"Sure, no problem."

There were probably 5 hurdles, #367 boosted me on each one. I could feel the bruises on my knees each time I hoisted myself over the wood.

"I got you hon, don't worry."

I finish the hurdles, "I owe you big time, #367." I high-fived him and went on.

Onward.

I jog past city streets and think about people I know comfortably sleeping in their beds nearby, dreaming away. "Why the hell am I doing this?"

Fatigue starts to set in near Canal St and I marvel that I've made it this far. "Just gotta get to 7 World Trade Barb, that's all you gotta do."

I see people careening out of the building as I approach. I jog through a small group of supporters, past relayers waiting on teammates, and into the escape stairwell. The air is thick, ventilation is limited, and the sweat on the rails reminds me not to touch my face directly with my hands from here on out. I hear someone say, "this is the real death march," and I think of the other 'death marches' I've been on consisting mainly of endless walking around new cities. I suddenly have a refined definition. Big strapping men wearing boot camp tees are stopping on the landings. Young volunteers appear on every other landing offering support, "only 40 more flights to go!"

One woman says, "I don't think I can make it." "Yes you can!" I say "You're almost there." Onward.

I get to the 52nd FL. I hear, "Rest this way, otherwise this way to head back down."

I head right back down. Legs are wobbly. I take it slowly. I feel my 17th wind and speed up. Round and round. I look up for a second, get dizzy, look back down.

I exit 7 World Trade, grab a big jug of water and pour it into where I last remembered my mouth should be. I run on.

"More stairs!???" I hear someone exclaim.

It was the overpass back to the river side of the highway.

My final mile to the finish was a slow slow jog. "Don't stop Barb, don't stop you're almost there."

I'm reminded of an airport arrivals area as I enter Battery Park and pass through throngs of well-wishers.

I see people slide across the taxis. I see the wall. The very. Big. Wall. With just a rope. What I have is beyond fatigue but the finish line is just on the other side of this wall. Just. I lock eyes with a man who was waiting at the base offering boosts. You ready? Yeah, I guess. I get up and barely peek over the wall. I see the finish but my muscles are not helping me get anything more than my eyeballs over this wall. "Are you okay?" I hear. I feel the wood burning marks into my skin. "Just a little bit more!" I say. I contemplate stepping on his shoulder and head to give me that extra boost. Somehow we get me up and over. I steady myself on the platform before heading onward to cross the finish. "Barb!" I hear. I look over and see D. Euphoria sets in. We high five each other. "Oh my god I'm so proud of us" we both say repeatedly. Euphoria, adrenaline, whatever it is causes us to babble on for a minute or so until I realize I need water. "Lets get some water."

I feel a tap on my shoulder, "Congrats." It was the woman in the stairwell who 'couldn't' go on. I say "yes, you too."

I'm #789 and it's almost 9am.

Party for a cause!

Here's some stuff:

1. Support BARACK OBAMA at this special event!

Featuring DJ ?uestlove on the ones and twos


Thursday, September 11th, 2008
Sutra, 16 First Ave., bet 1st and 2nd streets
$10 suggested donations at the door. ALL PROCEEDS go directly to the Obama '08 campaign.
On site voter registration!
Doors at 9:00pm
www.okayplayer.com



2. 'From: Not the Desmonds
Date: Tue, Sep 9, 2008 at 11:00 PM
Subject: NTD Benefit Showcase for Gifted Hands - 9/21
To: notthedesmonds@gmail.com


Friends of Not The D.,

We're sending out a save the date for a very fun and important Benefit
Showcase that we're hosting.

On September 21st, three bands will play the Living Room in the Lower East Side:

7:00 p.m. The Peel School
8:00 p.m. Not The Desmonds
9:00 p.m. Scott's Roger

First, let me start by saying that the members of The Peel School (the
new name of Mike Kleba's band) and Scott's Roger are not only all
fantastic people and great friends of mine, they're also writing and
performing some truly astounding music. No joke - you will laugh, cry
and do all those other cliche things we all do when we hear music
that's life changing. If you don't know their music, this gig is a
perfect opportunity for you to get acquainted with them. If you
do...well, you already know what I'm talking about.

Second, 100% of the $10 cover (for all three bands) will go to Gifted
Hands, an art therapy agency and community of volunteers based in the
Lower East Side who have a passion to help improve the lives of their
neighbors in New York City. For over 15 years, Gifted Hands has been
reaching out to "the least and the last" in the city, helping them to
see value in themselves through discovering they have the power to
create. Serving neighbors through art, music, dance, spiritual
support, design and other programs, Gifted Hands helps men and women
in shelters, recovery programs, crisis pregnancy centers, HIV/AIDS
residences, elder care residencies, youth-at-risk centers, foster care
group homes, churches, and people living on the streets.

Gifted Hands has started over 50 art programs around NYC and abroad
teaching jewelry, art and craft projects, stained glass, wood working,
sculpture, painting, decoupage, pen and ink drawing, and poetry
writing...hundreds of our city's least fortunate find satisfaction and
hope just by picking up a paintbrush, molding a piece of clay or
singing music they could never have imagined even hearing.
Friends, this is what being an artist is all about - making the world
a better place. We hope to see you on Sunday the 21st to celebrate
and contribute to this organization. Here are a few additional
details:
The Living Room
154 Ludlow Street btw. Stanton and Rivington
www.livingroomny.com
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Show starts at 7 p.m. sharp! Don't be late!!

Gifted Hands: http://giftedhandsnyc.com

The Peel School: www.myspace.com/thepeelschool

Scott's Roger: www.myspace.com/scottsroger

See you there.

Michael E.
Not a Desmonds
www.myspace.com/notthedesmonds'

The Dark Knight

I had never seen a full Batman movie until last night and am still not quite sure why I wanted to see The Dark Knight. Nevertheless I was told to make my one go of it in IMAX. Thanks for the advice ya'll because it was awesome. This is definitely one of those movies that's worth $18 for an IMAX ticket. I felt tingly in moments when Mr. Batman threw himself from skyscrapers. Awesome. But what I'm really surprised about is how deep it is. It was a study in social conditioning. Of course, I expected the typical 'battle of good vs. evil' but, to me, it wasn't posed that way. Batman and the Joker are human, not superhuman the difference is that the Joker is more twisted due to what sounds like years of emotional abuse from his family, partners, and plain old innate craziness, etc. Harvey Dent's 'development' is posed to us as an example of how the Joker 'turned.'

The movie brought up these thoughts about human nature for me:

- Is it true that we dislike in others what we loath most about ourselves? I don't know about that. Things I dislike tend to be exact opposite of me. What about you?

- What is true is that people definitely show their true colors in times of crisis. Without giving too much away, I really admire, though am not all that surprised, by how the convict on the boat behaved at the end.

- Witness the 'moles,' is it really possible to bribe someone when human lives are at stake? Even though we were told the money was for medical purposes it's like she was trading one life for many. Which I guess is one of the main themes. How much is human life worth? Sacrifice someone near to you? Or many strangers? A bunch of convicts? Or regular citizens? Batman? Or the city of Gotham? The point posed goes against the popular concept of survival of the fittest. Rather, here, it's about the greater good. This movie seems apt in these times. We've become so much about ourselves whether in our personal lives in government, perhaps it's meant to be commentary on how we can improve on our society. Is the screenwriter saying that America is destined to become Gotham City if we stay on our general path? I admit, I think people have become increasingly selfish, care less about the greater good and social responsibility. For fear of sounding like an old fart, I think the generation of kids growing up today are really at a lack for all the aforementioned things, they're almost helpless because everything is done for them or at their fingertips. Kids are fearless about talking back to teachers, don't care about passing classes, don't care about disturbing a whole car of train passengers with their behavior, don't care about holding a door open for an elderly person (or anyone), don't care about giving up a seat for a pregnant lady, etc. I bet, my mother's generation said the same things about mine but I feel like I could easily chat with someone of my mom's age and we'd agree. It's a sense of common sense, decency, and etiquette that has been usurped by a focus on personal satisfaction. I feel like the more I write the more I lose meaning but I hope it makes sense because I think the deterioration is a damn shame. I mean, when I'm old are kids just gonna push me over on the sidewalk? Really, I'm just thinking of my own well-being as a senior citizen. ha.

In any case, a movie that makes me think is good in my book. 3 cheers for Batman and I really think Heath Ledger was fantastic. I can see how he must've been overtaken by the Joker's 'darkness.' I think I would be too.

sidewalk dining, All Points West festival

1. Just came across this really cool thing on NYMag.com it lists 200 of their top restaurants with sidewalk seating. I'd beware of heavily trafficked areas though, you don't want to end up inhaling more exhaust than food.

2. My friend has two extra tickets to the Alhttp://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=2208490287871300707&postID=7136254816609073606l Points West Festival for this Saturday. He's looking to sell them for face value ($89). If you're interested, contact him: Subhash 917 340-4149

Looks like Radiohead and The Roots are playing.

3. If you want to opt out of catalogs, this seems like a good, central place to do it. Found on the Women's Health Mag website:

www.catalogchoice.org

Easy way to save some paper and energy.

4. Would the ladies reading use this???????
http://gocommandos.com/

Go forth and conquer!

subway etiquette 101

i can tell u what barb wouldn't do and that is to groom. on the. subway. seriously. some woman who had a faint resemblance to ms. piggy (and i mean that in the nicest possible way) sat one seat away from me on the subway this morning. she announced her arrival with the thud of her purse on the seat between us and i mean a THUD. there must've been bricks in there or something. then makeup started coming out and she was applying it here and there, nothing i hadn't seen before but then...then...then...she pulled out the tweezers! what's worse is that she was plucking stray hairs from her lip area. pursing her VERY full lips to pluck pluck pluck. i looked across at the other riders searching for looks of horror and disbelief and felt justified. who does that? i mean, i've seen people clip their nails and apply makeup but i think tweezing is a bit much. i understand the concept of multitasking but if you can't squeeze out 5 minutes to do that in your own bathroom then perhaps you should be relegated to hairiness. are on board subway waxers far behind?

we pull into 23rd street and it was like the conductor was waiting for her to pull her ish together to get off the train. the doors were open an abnormal amount of time while she dropped makeup, spilled coffee, and scrambled to throw herself out of the car in time before the doors shut behind her.

then all the people in my portion of the train just giggled both to each other and to themselves. i think even spied a smirk on the face of the gross offender while she composed herself on the platform. perhaps she realized the ridiculousness of it all or just wished she got off the train more gracefully aware of the audience around her.

Mortality

Sometimes I wonder why some deserve to live longer than others? Sometimes I wonder if it means that those who live longer are given the time because they have something further to contribute to humanity? Sometimes I wonder if some people would think of what lies after death, whatever that may be, as being better than life? These are not questions I expect answers to, likely because there aren't any, but I also can't help but ask when indirectly confronted with deaths that are so sudden, seemingly unjustified, and cruel (to those left behind). Perhaps asking questions doesn't help? Perhaps this is one of those instances where you just have to accept things as they are and look towards the happier things in life? Value what you have and all that jazz. After all, there's an endless array of the 'Sometimes,' 'Perhaps,' and 'maybes,' 'ifs,' 'ands,' or 'buts' one can pose. 'Unfair,' is another word that comes to mind. But because these are seemingly unanswerable questions, the only way for me to think about death is as a part of life and equally as unpredictable. As a result, we can only go day by day, enjoying all that we can in the time we are given so that perhaps when it is our time those we leave behind can say, 'hey, at least she lived a full life and never held back.'

Now that I'm in better humor compared to this morning when I wrote the above, I'd like to say, "Live hard, play hard, try not to die."

Electronic crap = Money

I've got at least 3 old cell phones, an old PDA, cameras, an almost dead computer and lord knows what else stowed away at home. Think about it, I bet you do too. So when I read about Gazelle this morning in my Wise Bread newsletter (it's a really good one btw), I thought it was worth sharing since they give you money for your crap and pay for shipping. Here's the description from Wise Bread:

'We all have a few old electronics lying around that we never use anymore. It seems a waste to just throw them away, but it often takes effort to sell them. Now there is a new service called Gazelle that allows you to trade your old electronics for cash with the least amount of hassle.

Gazelle has a very simple to use website that allows you to search for the gadget you wish to get rid of. After you find your item you can input the condition it is in. For example, I typed in Palm Zire 71 and I was asked if the item powers on and what condition it is in. After that, Gazelle spits out an appraisal and allows me to add the item for checkout. It also has an estimate of how much the item may be worth in the future. For electronics the price trend tends to go down because people always want to buy the newest gadget. After I checked out, it prompted me to print out a prepaid shipping label and ship the item with a box. For some qualifying items Gazelle will even send you a box to ship the item.

After the item is received Gazelle will inspect the item and confirm that it is in the condition you described, then you will be paid the quoted price. This process takes about a week according to the website. The company also guarantees that if you ship in an electronic with data on it they would wipe it clean so you do not have to worry about your privacy. They will also take items with no value for the purpose of recycling.

Currently the company buys mostly electronics such as cell phones or gaming consoles, but they may expand the types of items they are willing to purchase in the future. It really seems like a love child between a pawn shop and Netflix, and I am sure it will help a lot of people get rid of their unwanted junk because it is so easy to use. Users of Gazelle will reduce the amount of junk that go to landfills and also reclaim a few bucks in the process so it really seems like a win win situation. So go ahead and try it out, because that pile of junk sitting in your garage may be worth some gas money.'


Get Cash For Your Gadgets at gazelle.com