Warm Fuzzies #9: Fabulous Friends

It’s official: I have friends in New York City. Real friends. Thoughtful people who care what happens to me, who note my absence and enjoy my presence. People I look forward to spending time with and who, amazingly enough, look forward to spending time with me, too.

I have the marathon to thank for this realization, but in two separate capacities. First of all, the day after I arrived in Pittsburgh, as I was running around doing errands, meeting up with old friends, and basically utilizing every minute I had, my mind kept wandering back to New York. I can’t wait to go back and tell _______ about this I would think. _______ is going to love hearing about this. As I caught myself thinking these things more and more, I realized that the people I wanted to tell about what was happening to me were mostly present in my “new” life: they were the people I worked with, the people I played volleyball with. Granted, I was thrilled to death to be home and visiting with my lifelong best friend. Yes, I had a college friend in Boston whom I would immediately call when the marathon was over, because he is near and dear to my heart and had supported me throughout my training. And I would certainly contact my dear friend in Singapore, because she was so amazing that she was following my race online from halfway around the world. Ultimately, though, the random, silly thoughts that floated through my head as I walked around town, the excitement I was feeling about the race, the reactions I felt to my terrible date—these were all things I found myself wanting to share with my New York friends. Being away from them and realizing I was eager to return and tell them things is what made me realize that these people were now the ones near and dear to my heart, no longer people I spent all four years of high school or college with.

The second way in which the marathon made me realize the quality of my New York friendships occurred once I returned. I was on my computer at work a few days ago when one of my friends from volleyball, L____, contacted me.

we (m____, d____, and p____ and me) wanted to give you something for finishing your first marathon. i know this is long overdue but we figured out what to give you! i couldn’t get it because i need most of your personal info. M____ has been buggin me about it for days and i couldn’t seem to get it. we wanted it to be a surprise but i don’t know how to get it to you. we would have wanted to cheers for you at the finish line instead but pittsburgh is way toooo far for us....

Needless to say, I was shocked. Really and truly shocked. I had been surprised enough when I had first returned after having run the marathon and found that these people—M____, D____, P____, and L____—had already looked up my results online in order to congratulate me. Sure, I had emailed everyone the link to the results page, but really, that email was more self-serving than anything else. I was really excited and wanted to share my excitement; I didn’t actually expect anyone to go and look. I, of all people, know how incredibly rare it is for others to share in someone’s excitement and enthusiasm for something, particularly if taking action is involved. So just the fact that they bothered to check up on how I did—that in and of itself really touched me. But to find that they were buying me a gift??? Because they were proud of me and my accomplishment?

This is one instance where words fail; there are simply no words to describe how meaningful it is to have people demonstrate that they care about you. The word “touched” is sentimental and weak. To describe wanting to laugh and to cry, wanting to hug these people and to punch them simultaneously doesn’t make sense of the emotion and indeed just makes it seem more complicated. “Ecstatic anguish” sounds far too dramatic for the reality of the situation. The bottom line is that I feel undeserving, but I do still feel overwhelmingly grateful.

The hardest part of all is that this is NYC: everyone moves on, sometimes almost immediately. Thus, I will do my best to accept kind and generous people in my life as they appear and do my best not to cling to them. The kinder and more generous they are, however, they harder this is going to be.

Blogging [Sexual?] Freedom

So now that I’m a dual blogger—since I’m blogging here as well as on Beyond the Bench—I have begun to more seriously evaluate what is appropriate to address in the “blogging world.” Because more people are reading my personal blog than I originally anticipated (and people I never expected!), it has become dangerous to write about person-related experiences in any negative context whatsoever. (Positive experiences are always good material, because everyone likes to read about themselves when the portrayal is complimentary.) Meanwhile, I have to consider that what I may find interesting and compelling to write about for the “company blog” may not always be topical—or even appropriate. For instance, nearly every purely scientific posting I have written thus far has been neuroscience-related. Coincidence? For someone who voluntarily double-majored in Brain & Cognitive Sciences . . . doubtful. Then, as I was seeking blog-worthy material today, this was the article I found most compelling: ‘EQ’ linked to frequency of orgasm. Unfortunately, although I would most certainly enjoy reading about proof showing that the higher a woman’s emotional intelligence, the better her orgasm, it is probably not the most suitable topic to cover on a professional scientific/publishing blog.

However, there’s nothing stopping me from covering it here! Honestly, I didn’t think this article was worthy to be posted on a science blog—ultimately, it had the same content as any basic Cosmo article. The bottom line of the studies was this: the better a woman knows her body and communicates it to her partner, the better her orgasms are going to be. Nothing groundbreaking there! What I loved was that in one of the cited articles, they actually had a clinical name for the female version of erectile dysfunction: female orgasmic disorder. Now I’m curious: do they have female Viagra? (The short answer is no. Somehow, I am not surprised. After all, men’s sexual satisfaction has historically been more important.)

What was interesting—and I thought worth reporting—was the 2005 Dutch study they cited that talked about orgasms actually turning off emotional centers in women’s brains. Basically, for a woman to have a successful orgasm, all of the parts of her brain concerned with emotion (proessing her emotions, others’ emotions, stress, etc.) have to shut down. Imagine that! No thinking; all feeling! Now this I would like to read more about.

Alas, I am relegated to researching other topics for the work blog, so there is no time for researching brain functions during orgasm. If anyone has any other interesting, more suitable topics for Beyond the Bench, though, please do pass them along!

Prescient

Who could have predicted that back in July of 2007 (nearly two years ago!) I already had aspirations for running a marathon: New Plans, New Goals. I don't think I was entirely serious about this at the time, but I knew swimming as a sport was over for me and that I had to find something else to occupy my ambitions. How fitting, that two years later I have completed this feat and am now floundering for my next goal!

Meanwhile, here is a look at the one just passed:

Ready to rock and roll!

Here I come!

Finished! Rain frizzed hair and all, surrounded by my lovingly made signs.

Why Delta is not Alpha

First, they take my facewash. And this wasn’t just any ordinary facewash. It wasn’t your run-of-the-mill bar of 99 cent Dove soap. This was my $8.99 Clean and Clear foaming facial Acne Cleanser. And to make matters worse, they hadn’t said jack to me at JFK. No, I had gotten through security just fine there. Here in Pittsburgh, not only did they scan my backpack twice, they then singled out my duffle bag and completely unpacked it, only to apprehend and detain my dangerous 7 oz. facewash.

Then they delay the flight—not once, but twice. The first delay is fifteen minutes. Fine; I have no problem with a fifteen-minute delay, because I understand that things happen. But then it’s another half-an-hour before the plane even shows up, and as soon as its passengers debark, the crew is hustling us on, telling us we had better hurry if we want to “make it in time.” We had better hurry? We have been sitting in the airport for forty-five minutes!

Thirty minutes later, after sitting motionless on the runway, an announcement came on, rousing me from my Pittsburgh-to-JFK slumber. In this announcement, the flight attendant informed passengers that we must debark, because this plane will not be departing for JFK now until six o’clock. Apparently a crew member had timed out and will need to be replaced before the plane can take off again, and so our flight will now be delayed until 6p.m.

We all file off, with important-looking businessmen already on their phones with their travel agents, everyone waiting for their non-checked, stored-under-the-plane baggage (since Delta now charges $15 per checked bag). Everyone with connecting flights lines up at the counter, and I take my seat. Six o’clock rolls around, and we all get back onto the plane. Twenty minutes later, after a suspicious silence from the engines and no movement from the crew, the captain comes over the loudspeaker and informs us that he has some very unfortunate news. Apparently due to a runway issue at JFK, there is an air traffic delay that will be causing yet another stewardess to time out, and so we will have to once again debark the plane. They have no further information at this time. They are very sorry.

We get off the plane and pick up our luggage again. Now the businessmen are louder and redder as they spit into their cell phones. “Unacceptable” and “ridiculous” are the buzzwords of the day.

No sooner have we deboarded and lined up in front of the counter, when the airport attendant comes over the loudspeaker to apologize for the delay and informs us that a new flight attendant has been located and we will be re-boarding the plane as soon as she is ready. We all stand clustered around the entryway grumbling and wondering how legitimate this claim is for another thirty minutes before getting back on the plane. It is now 7:15 p.m. The plane is finally in the air at 7:35 p.m.—over four hours after it was scheduled to depart.

I am officially irate. My flight coming to Pittsburgh was delayed by more than an hour both in the airport and on the runway. All that, and now a crew member who couldn’t manage her schedule? If anything deserves a letter of complaint, it is certainly this. Delta management, you will be hearing from me.

First Marathon

Distance: 26.2 miles

There’s the 8:30 pacing group. I should start out with them, but I really don’t want to be going that slow. Lee. Slow-LY. I shouldn’t tire myself out, but I don’t think I’m really that slow. I mean, if the tapering worked, I’ll be at least at an 8:15 pace. Too bad there’s no 8:15 pacers. Maybe I can keep the 8:00 sign guy in sight. That’ll be good. But do they run with those signs? That would be exhausting. I don’t even like carrying my little iPod. MP3. Why do I always call this thing an iPod? Stupid Apple monopoly. It’s like calling tissues Kleenex. God do I need one, although I probably shouldn’t blow my nose at any point. Maybe I should have put Vaseline in my nose this morning. If it starts bleeding again, I am going to be so angry.

Winning Times:

Men: 2:22:51

Women: 2:36:33

I don’t want to see the mile markers! Mile five. Okay, less than a fifth of the way done. What’s 26.2 divided by five? I need Excel. Today’s Sunday . . . I wonder if they’ll make me blog again on Tuesday. Is there anything scientific about marathon running? If someone dies, I could definitely tie that in. Not that I want anyone to die. Not that anyone’s going to; it’s way too cold out here. My hands always get cold. Thank god I wore a tank top, though; I am sweating like crazy. Body glide rocks. Wow, is that the 7:30 pacer? 7:38, okay. How did I catch up to him already? I didn’t think I was going that fast. Maybe I should slow down, but I feel so good! I’ll just listen to my body. But if I keep up with him, I’ll finish in 3:20:00! That would qualify me for the New York Marathon! Although this is not a qualifying race, so really there’s no point. It would definitely get me into Boston, though. I never train with a pacer though, and they say to do everything the same on race day. I’ll just try to keep him in sight if I can and try not to care. I am way too competitive sometimes. Plus we’re not even close to halfway, it’s no wonder I’m not tired. At mile 20, if I still feel this good, then we can talk pacing.

Placement: (Overall) 255/3,439

Look at all of these people! God I love Pittsburgh! No other city would be like this. Philly was nothing like this. Okay, so it was November there; I guess that’s not a fair comparison. Would these people be out in their coats and hats cheering and waving and being so awesome in November? But it’s raining! That surely says something. And all the volunteers look so—whoa! I do not want that cup of Powerade, thank you. Why did they have to use Styrofoam cups? They do not crush underfoot, and the poor environment! What a lot of unnecessary waste. The oranges were such a good idea. Why didn’t they make the little kids wear gloves? Maybe the fingers didn’t fit. That would look so funny, with the fingers flopping all over that orange slice and some runner pulling off the kid’s glove along with the orange….. Good lord, do not spit in front of me! That almost flew right in my face! Haven’t you ever heard of wind? This street is enormous, and you had to spit standing straight up, right here. There is such a thing as a curb. Hell-ooo? God, I would have been so pissed if that had landed on me. Oh, look at those little kids all in a row. I’m totally hitting them up. Is the first one going to put her hand out? Ugh, this stupid iPod cord is always in the way…. Yeah! I love high-fives.

Placement: (Women) 32/1,279

One mile one mile onemileonemileonemileonemile. There’s going to be a bathroom at the end and I don’t care if my dad’s standing there I’m just going to go straight to that bathroom ew although it's going to be a port-a-potty and I should probably stretch first but I really have to go now I know why runners mess themselves they don’t want to stop when they’re so close to the end it’s just not worth it but that would be so humiliating I would never do that hey there’s that woman I saw walking how dare she pass me I definitely have enough energy to keep her in sight. Longer strides! Remember how Ben taught you to sprint! All these people are smiling you’re almost there it’s only a mile you run this in your sleep you definitely have energy left and it’s not even raining anymore dad’s probably in the crowd somewhere watching you don’t want to look pathetic you definitely have energy you’re almost there come on longer strides there’s the yellow sign! 26 miles! You can sprint for .2 miles that’s not even a quarter mile not even two minutes you still have energy go, go, go come on that lady is still in front you’re letting her get away she was walking for crying out loud you didn’t come here to finish like a wimp the finish line has got to be in sight soon maybe they lied maybe the 26 mile marker was off where is the finish line keep going there it is, go, faster, this is a race you’re almost done they just announced your name!

Finishing Time: 3:20:57