Magic Jewball

Well, I’m home. Home and tired, as Pink Floyd once said. When I said last week that I might be too tired to post Sunday I was kidding but MAN was I exhausted. I had no idea. Honestly, that wasn’t the actual race. I was barely tired after that, it was just the whole weekend and way too little sleep and lots of travel. But my team was beyond fantastic and I only wish I had had more time with them.

So what was it like? Did I run the whole thing? Did my life flash before my eyes? Must I ask myself so many questions?

In short, great, no, yes, yes of course. In long (why is that not an expression?), it was kind of like my almost-daily run in Riverside Park, except not in a circle and with people running with me, not towards me so much. Also, no bicycles or scary dogs. It went so fast! I wore my Nike+ device (I can’t run without Muse!) and before I knew it, I was at 2.5 miles. Whoa! I don’t know if you know anything about shin splints, which I’ve been having, but here’s how they work. You are in agonizing pain for a while, then it totally goes away, only to re-start after your exercise is over. So what I did was, run a mile in excruciating torture (ow, statues! ow, Trader Joe’s!). Then I stopped, stretched on a tree-planter, and walked it out till the pain lessened. I lost a lot of time there but maybe I saved my shin muscles so it was worth it. Then I started running again and wouldn’t let myself stop till at least past 30th Street Station, where I spent so much of my youth that I used to be able to give people directions from there. I would have felt embarrassed in front of the station had I been walking. Also, two (at least!) exciting movie murder scenes have taken place there. Who wants to just stroll?

I was able to run a ways past that but then there was a hilly area so I walked that part and ran into one of my teammates. Fancy meeting you here! So we walked together a bit and then ran our separate ways as we made the turn onto the final 3/4 of a mile. I needed to run that last bit - people I knew were looking! And then it was over. I raised my arms in triumph. Sadly, unlike the NY Marathon, there are no cameras. Who cares! I passed Trader Joe’s without stopping to look at the specials. Also, I finished my first 5k with only two short walking breaks. So I hugged my loved ones, found the port-o-john (I think I may have paid too much attention to that “keep hydrated” thing), and ate two donuts at the WaWa tent. Awesome.

Maybe I forgot to mention this, but Philly has always been special to me. You tell your “3 lanes in, 4 lanes out” and “first prize: one week in Philly, second prize: two weeks in Philly” jokes, I love the place and have had many connections with it. Once, I thought I would live there, but the universe had other plans. So running through it for my very first race was sublime and meaningful. You hear that, Ben Franklin? Becca loves you!

The race started at the art museum. It has a lot of meaning both for me and Rocky.

By the way, I almost didn’t run the race. See, The Cure were in Philly right as we were racing. So I wondered if they really needed me. But then I remembered poor Fat Bob and his smeared lipstick and I knew what I had to do.

Although The Cure didn’t appear, lots of people did turn out, and did I mention it was Mothers Day? You can tell from all the strollers.

In all seriousness, I want to give my heartfelt thanks to everyone who supported me both financially and with encouragement, spirit, and good vibes. I couldn’t have done it without you. And we raised nearly $700 (more if you count the whole team!) as of this writing to help poor women facing cancer and to help find a cure. Happy Mothers Day indeed.

Please enjoy this. It is the only Springsteen song you will ever hear on this site.
Bruce Springsteen - Streets Of Philadelphia

See you Sunday! Or Monday if I’m really tired. Or lazy.

How Becca learned to run.

Why Becca is running.

Pink Floyd - Run Like Hell

Is it still Tuesday? I know, that’s when I said J-Ball would return. Crazy people! J-ball is always here right in your computer! I, however, have been busy planning the most fabulous May known to mankind. Not only am I seeing a whole bunch of shows (did someone say Duran Duran?) and still training tirelessly (actually, that’s a lie, I’m really really tired) for Philly Komen on Mother’s Day, but I’ve booked a trip to see Maureen & TJ and lots of other people I dig in Atlanta the week after.

That is to say, I haven’t been blogging. Listen, making dinner out of matzah mel and potato starch is hard work. It wears a person down. I did discover a new chocolate pudding that is Casher Lepessah, meaning it’s both Kosher for Passover and French. That kind of scares me because the use-by date is 6/4 which says to me that everywhere in the world other than here it’s expired. I choose to remain ignorant, however. It’s for export, right? Right?

Is that girl wearing a kipah? Maybe it’s a long-haired boy.

The Sugarcubes - Delicious Demon

Well, I met Tami and I know you will all be shocked, shocked to learn that she did not come to New York in a bonnet. I didn’t even make that up! Tami said she should have come to NY in a bonnet. I didn’t even have a mental association between Mormons and bonnets. But now I do! Note to self: Laura Ingalls - Mormon.

Anyway, you may wonder what’s with all the Mormon hype but I really do think there’s a big connection between the experience of being Jewish in America and being LDS. People don’t get us and think we’re wacky. They say things like, “do you wear weird underwear? How come you go to Temple and not church? I couldn’t live without alcohol-caffeine/lobster-McDonald’s. You believe that literally? It’s 2008!”

So Tami and I bonded and decided to call ourselves MormoJew in a show of unity. She even told me the secret of why those break away polygamists (who are NOT Mormons, by the way) have such high hair. Like I’m going to tell you! I told her how Jewish ladies don’t have to wear a tallit (prayer shawl to the less Jewey - you can see them in Fiddler on the Roof, as Tami did) and she told me that Mormon ladies don’t have to go on missions. But she did. She went to Sri Lanka and exploded from spicy food.

Speaking of spicy food, here is Tami, at left, with former Reader of the Month, RNerd, and our waiter, Mr. SellALot. Shhh, he doesn’t realize he’s on this blog. We left your tip in the Ganesha, Mr. SellALot!

To all the world’s religions, happy Passover, happy Orthodox Easter, happy Papal visit! JBall will be back Tuesday!

Swear to God! This is my favorite Duran Duran song.
Duran Duran - New Religion

Guess what arrived yesterday! My Philly Race For the Cure shirt! It is really, really pink. Ostensibly, it is white; however, it’s filled with so much hot-pink lettering that it’s hard to tell. There’s also some Spring green, These are two colors that you will rarely see me wear and never together. But I don’t mind! I was so happy to see it that I hung it up on a hanger, which isn’t really something I tend to do with t-shirts. I may never have seen it at all because I used a fake name over there and the postal carrier decided to deliver it to one of my neighbors. I’m not sure which one because all I heard last night were footsteps and a soft thud in front of my door. By the time I got to it, said neighbor was gone. I kind of wonder how long this neighbor had it because it was postmarked 3/29 and it isn’t such a long way from Philadelphia. I know this because I’ve taken that trip 400 times in my lifespan. Eight hundred if you remember that it’s on the way from Baltimore as well.

Along with the t-shirt I also received my bib number. I’ve never been so excited to be a number! I put that in the big pile of Important Stuff on my dresser where it can keep company with Cure tickets I’ve had for a year and the $5 off Zyrtec coupon. They also sent a Phillies schedule - awesome, just what I needed. No, really, I needed it so I could have a good segue into my next story.

This week I attended my first game of the last season at Yankee Stadium. It’s hard to remember it’s the last season because my father tends to talk a lot about the previous Yankee Stadium and the way you could see the 9th Avenue El converge with several other lines that may or may not still exist because there wasn’t so much advertising. That is, you could see them because of the not-yet-created advertising, that’s not why they converged.

Anyway, I went to get me a hot dog at the Kosher stand (we have one too!) which is someplace different than last year. Behind the booth were two young guys and one immediately got me a frankfurter (as my father calls it) and the other was supposed to ring me up. Except he didn’t see the already put together dog and started to get another one set up. The following conversation ensued.

Kosher Guy1: I already got her the hot dog
Kosher Guy2: You did? But I got a big one.
KG1: So did I! They’re all big.

You don’t even have to have as dirty a mind as Becca to know what I was thinking.

Me: Ummm…
KG2: Yes?
Me: Please don’t make me say what I’m thinking.
KG1, looking baffled: Go ahead!
Me: Whoever has the biggest hot dog, I’ll take that. Thanks!
Kosher guys: Bwahahahahahaha!

Yankees win… thaaaaaa Yankees win!

Title will be understood by precisely one reader but is one of the double entendres I have known and loved in my lifetime.

Martini Ranch - Hot Dog