Friday, January 12, 2007

and we're off.

at kick-off, ramon warned us not to wait until the night before to pack. unfortunately, it is in my nature to do just that, and this week i was too tired to fight human nature. too many things going on, excitement/stress/tension overload between the trip to nashville and the marathon, made worse by not running as much.

so there i was at 10:00 pm packing. the good folks at ” target=”_blank”>TNT had put together a packing list for us, and thank christ because i couldn’t think. i actually gave demps the wrong address at first when i was telling him where to meet me to get the car in the morning. that, ladies and gents, is how out of it i am. first things first: sneakers, sports bra, shorts, long-sleeved running shirt, tnt tank top, hi-tech socks, marathon registration card. i figured as long as i didn’t forget those and my wallet, anything else was replaceable. next: body-glide (aka anit-chafing lube), fuel belt, casual sneakers, warm stuff for before and after the race (as of last night we’re looking at a high of 55 degrees, not *that* warm, but at least not raining), bathing suit, ipod, camera, various cables, pasta-& post-party tickets. finally: hanging-out/post-run-celebratory clothing and cosmetics.

i’ve become quite the efficient packer these days. even though i only had a carry on for tennessee, i really over-packed vs. what i needed on that trip so i learned my lesson. or, i will open my suitcase to find that aside my running stuff i have packed the most random assortment of clothing ever to travel together in one bag. we’ll find out when i get to phoenix.

as i was packing, my upstairs neighbors decided to host a james brown-lovin’, p-funkadelic dance party. at least that’s what it sounded like. someone was jumping up and down sporadically, the audio to elaine’s spastic dancing on seinfeld. there were cheers of “YEAH!” and “WHOOO!” punctuating the pumpin’ music. and no one in the building was getting to sleep through that. i debated dialing 311 but was never forced into a decision because on of my neighbors called in and soon the dance party was subdued.

until i tried to go to bed around 12:30. slowly but surely, the audio crept back up, and with it the happy feet. then down it would go, until enthusiasm would sweep in and the whole cycle would start back over again. i could picture the scene vividly, the drunken roommate being hushed by the slightly-less-drunk roommate okay, okay, i’ll be quiet, and then a little couch dancing gets more animated and a particularly great song comes on that you can’t bear to let go buy with out dancing so the the groove starts again, and the volume is turned back up and everyone parties happily until the slightly-less-drunk roommate remembers that we’re supposed to be quite!!!

so after a while i got used to it and passed out. woke up at 1:30 sure i had slept late, checked the time, actually thought to myself “wow, almost three more hours of sleep! yes!”, passed back out.

i stumbled out of bed at 4:15. threw my clothes on, tossed a few last minute things in my bag and before i knew it the car and demps were outside promptly at 4:45. amazingly, there was actually traffic in the holland tunnel at that hour, but we got there just when we were supposed to, at 5:30. lines were long, but demps has the luck of the irish with him, and was with a group that got taken from the back of the line to another counter. we ran into some tnt-ers and pretty much breezed through security.

from there, everything was a blur of hellos until we got on the plane. i had the social-captain send an e-mail to the team about bid on my bum, and so was personally greeted with variations on “has anyone bought your ass?” i’ve now become the bum girl. expressions range from incredulous to fits of giggles and a dash of horror, but mostly everyone finds it hilarious. which, after raising money, is *the point*.
as we were getting on the plane, colleen was asking if i had any tattoos, and i said no. “wow, this is your first tattoo, and you’re going right for the butt!” she exclaimed.

i quipped back, “well, you know, i usually don’t do anything half-assed.”

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