Presented without comment: the full race summary. Well, okay, a few comments. :)

It was definitely one of the best New York moments I’ve ever had and one I will remember for a long time. It was everything you can imagine; everything friends told me it would be. You start your day in Staten Island, cold and excited. Frank Sinatra comes on the loudspeakers singing “New York, New York” and you almost want to cry (don’t worry, this is a common theme throughout in this race). I missed my “start time” so I had to scramble around figuring out which group I wanted to go with next. This means pushing yourself to the front of others and waiting another twenty minutes or so in the cold so you can get into the corral.

Brooklyn goes by incredibly fast: the crowd just pulls you along. You hardly notice that you’re running a race until you get to the Pulaski Bridge. I didn’t really think the course was all that hilly; Queensboro is perhaps the biggest climb and I just took that one slowly. As much as I complain, I think maybe I secretly like hills. It’s also the first time in the race where it gets quiet (very few people watching from the bridge) and you start thinking things like “why am I doing this?” and “oh. my. god. those Kenyans have already finished.” I found out later that this is where Haile (my all-time most favorite runner!) sadly dropped out of the race.

I can’t even tell you how many people I saw cheering – or how many kids I high-fived. And I was incredibly surprised to see lots of friends and family in the crowd: thousands of people and somehow you find each other. I wrote down nine or so locations where friends were camped and stuffed it under my wristband to keep it safe. I made sure to say ‘hi’ and high-five every one of them. Note: a little piece of paper jammed inside your wristband during a race gets really sweaty but is a great thing to save post-race.

I got into a slower pace on First Ave thinking I should just coast and eat and pick it up again post Bronx. Then, at mile nineteen-something, I unexpectedly started getting really tight in my left hamstring. I tried to stretch it out at least eight different stops but to no luck. It wouldn’t go away and just got progressively worse (it eventually moved to the calf) as the miles went on. It was _incredibly_ painful. I’m not going to lie, I definitely wanted to cry, but thought it might not be so cool with 10,000 people and a few cameras watching me. Maybe it was just me, but at the time it felt like I was the slowest kid on the block and it felt like everyone else was running so fast. That made me even sadder. Spectators would shout out words of encouragement like “you’re almost there!” and “come on, you waited so long and trained for this day!” And all I could cough back was “back off, lady! i’m dying here!” (I’m kidding!). I had a lot more time to think about outcomes: a part of me was half-expecting the legs to loosen up so that I could finish strong. There was also a small thought that if it got any worse, I probably would have had to stop because I couldn’t see myself walking through that. I jog-walked (is that a thing? if not, I just made it a thing) the rest of the race.

Oh well, next time. Wait, I can’t believe I’m actually saying that. :)

They say that when you write something down, it becomes real and there’s no backing down. Wait – no – is that how it goes?

I’m going to take on my first marathon in November (*gulp* see what I told you? write down == real!). I’m going to be running it in New York City, my hometown, so I guess I won’t have to go far (har har!). I’m equally excited, scared, overwhelmed with emotion just thinking about it. It’s going to be something special to run it in this beautiful city.

I’m running the race with a few friends who you might know: Dennis Crowley, Emily Gannett, Caroline McCarthy, Michelle DeForest, Toby Daniels and a few other new buddies. (Wait, was I supposed to use the oxford comma there? Vampire Weekend: help?).

We’re running on behalf of and raising money for Camp Interactive. CI takes the form of an after-school program to help bring a balance of technology and sports to inner-city kids. I would love if you supported us and then came to cheer and make sure I keep my word. We’re each trying to get $5000 towards the overall team goal and have a little ways to go; I want to crush these goals: http://bit.ly/naveenathon. You know what would be even more awesome? If you passed the word. Otherwise, I’m going to be retweeting myself. :)

I’ve been talking to a few friends that have run it before and they each have some special story to share about the experience. How did they find out I was going to run it, anyway?! There’s no backing away now! I’ve been collecting these and I’m going to write up another post on them in a couple of weeks. (HOT INSIDER TIPS!)

We’re also planning a few surprises for the race and hope to share those with you soon.

In case you missed the fundraise link in the story-time upstairs, see here now: http://bit.ly/naveenathon

Rewind it back a few years. When I was about to make the move to New York City, I started looking at apartments in various neighborhoods. I hardly knew the layout of the city back then. The only thing that was certain was I was drawn to the East Village/Lower East Side. One of my earliest memories of both of these places has a lot to do with apartment hunting. I would walk around the area, list in hand, trying to find the right spot. Often this would happen in the evenings – after work. I would take the train to that “wide, colorful street” known as Houston and plot paths from there.

One evening this past week, as I was walking home through this area (specifically 1st Ave and Houston), I started thinking about my first impression of the city all those years ago. For a moment there, in that weird spot where Houston and 1st Ave and 1st St and Ave A come together, where EV meets LES, where Katz’s meets the old buildings meets the park with the trees, I felt like un etranger.

I suddenly became a younger version of myself. I suddenly remembered how cold it was those evenings so long ago. I remembered what I was wearing. I remembered the excitement I felt exploring this part of the city. I remembered the places where I got food, the places I went into “just to see what it was about”, the places I entered to get out of the cold, the places I used as a spot to think over the apartments. And I made a note of places I needed “to come back to”.

I remembered how naive I was. How young I was. And then the flashback ended. I was in a familiar place again. As wise as I have become about NYC in the last few years, I still am naive – and young. In a way, it’s still the same cold evening. There’s still so much more to explore: some new, some old. It’s one of the exciting things about the city. I saw a tiny juice “shack” on the corner of A and 1st: was that there before? Why hadn’t I noticed it the last couple of times I’ve walked by?

I should like “to come back to” it.

“This shot was just fine until that bus drove by and blew up her dress….now it’s perfect”

I’m a fan of all of The Sartorialist‘s work but this one in particular stood out over others recently. I love this capture. It makes you want to pick up a camera and start shooting. It makes you want to dress better everyday. It shows you that you can never blink in New York City. You might miss too much.

You’ve probably read somewhere (ahem, sustaiNYC) that New York City has marked three August Saturdays as “Summer Car-Free Saturdays“.

I will definitely be up early on those mornings and will start the day by running up Park Avenue to Central Park from my place. Ben and I were thinking about having a picnic in the middle of the street. Only it will be more a breakfast picnic than a BBQ afternoon picnic. Also, we won’t have an ant problem because, well, it’s in the middle of the street.

So what else is going to happen in these empty streets? It’s like a big, empty game board – and we’ve all been invited to create something on top of it. No doubt we’ll see water fights and maybe the occasional open fire hydrant (calling back to a city of old). Bikers and runners. Street vendors (we will all be hungry). Musicians and performers. Parades. Open markets? Street games. Sidewalk chalk all over the place.

Any other ideas come to mind? Let’s connect and make something of each day.

Bonus: The Streets – Has It Come To This?

[audio:http://assets.drop.io/download/4898c17e/c92efebc7474f85f298aaa205734ae7014c3036b/8e126c00-357e-012b-1174-0012799407ec/65dfd8b0-455e-012b-7628-fb81fac06114/5411642fbfbec70b9dca3d84f19ca800.mp3/5411642fbfbec70b9dca3d84f19ca800.mp3]

Today is my last day at Sony/BMG. My exit message, written in the five-minute rush before the bye-bye party, follows:

Hi:

As you’ve no doubt heard by now (most likely from Tim’s email), I’m leaving Sony. I don’t mean to send another painful note (sniff sniff), but you knew I couldn’t possibly leave without making some noise and saying goodbye. There’s also the chance that Tim’s email got caught by a filter and went straight to the “I’ll bloody well read it when I feel like it” folder or to the Trash, so this note is very much needed in many inboxes.

I know I’ve been unusually quiet recently and this news actually came as a surprise to many of you, but you must believe me when I say I’ve been quiet [sic] busy the last few weeks. If I had been able to find the time to talk to each of you individually about it, I would have. You’ve each meant something good to me, in whatever capacity it may have been.

And I’m not just saying that last bit to be sappy. I really mean it: I’m a completely different person now than I was when I first started Sony as a fresh-faced 21-year-old. It is in part because I got to know you and learn from you and grow with you (both professionally and outside of work).

I hope we can get together at some point in the next few weeks (or at one of my many going-away parties) for a chat. I look forward to great things from all of you. Just make sure I’m somewhere close when greatness happens so that I can come take credit for it. And don’t worry, I’m not going far. New York still needs me as much as I need it and I will remain in the city.

My personal contact details are below. Get in touch anytime. Especially, you, you cute little new girl. Coffee?

my love

naveen

You probably heard this advice before when you were a little kid: if you ever find yourself lost in a crowded place – like a mall – stay put. It’ll make it easier for the person you were with to come find you.

I’m staying put in NYC.