Running with the Fasties

Sometimes I wonder why I am trying to keep up with a group of triathletes www.terriertri.com who are all so much faster than me? This morning in Central Park, our running coach, Spencer Casey, had us do hill repeats (that is, after strides and a warm-up from Bethesda Fountain to Cherry Hill). Of course I was last to arrive for the warm-up – but I always am. Truthfully, it doesn’t bother me –they are mostly half my age, and I tell myself that hey – it doesn’t matter that I’m so much slower (well, it wouldn’t if I weren’t so competitive, but in my mind, I’m still 20 and can beat everyone in sight). So, we started up the hill – after about three seconds, they were almost up the hill and I was huffing and puffing, Spencer was standing in the middle of the hill and he said, “Nice job, Margie.” Now you KNOW what it’s like when a coach says to you, nice job! So I kept going, got to the top, ran down to the bottom and started hill repeat #1. (We were to do the hill repeats for 35, 40, or 45 minutes, depending on whether we were training for Olympic, half or Ironman distance triathlons). So here I was, starting up hill #2, and EVERYONE passed me – of course – including Lucy, who is really a super-athlete and always yells out encouragement to me as she streaks by as only she can. (This is how fast Lucy is: Robert Penino, the founder of Terriertri, was also there doing the workout, and told Lucy to SLOW DOWN!!!! I still don’t know why. Hope Lucy beats his butt in the next triathlon (GO STRONG WOMEN!). In any event, now I am huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf although Baadddd is the last thing on my mind. I’m up to the 4^th hill repeat – Lucy and everyone else passed me AGAIN. But you know what? IT’S OKAY!!!! Because people like Lucy and Bob and Aerial would just say “GO MARGIE” every time they went whizzing by. So next time you smoke by a slowbie, give them a little encouragement. It sure made my run amazing!

FALLING OFF YOUR BIKE

Yesterday at 6:30am in Central Park, at 72^nd Street on the east side loop, a cyclist smashed into the barrier, did a head over heels, and had to be taken away by ambulance. Last week, a woman was riding north (the WRONG WAY) on Second Avenue; a taxi stopped and its door opened – not to the curb, but to the street. The cyclist was “doored,” but as she fell, she slid into traffic and was hit by an oncoming vehicle.

At least two to three times a week, I ride from my apartment (a block or so from the East River), uptown and west to Central Park. I always feel safe once I’m in the park, but I hate riding through traffic. Although there are some who consider road rash a badge of honor, I don’t like pain, bruises, or scratches.

They say that when it comes to biking, there are only two types of cyclists: those who have fallen, and those who WILL fall. I belong to that prestigious cult of eminent cyclists who had suffered a spill, brushed themselves off, and gotten back on their bikes – I hope I never have to renew my subscription to this club.

The American Women And Her Dress 1890-2010

THE AMERICAN WOMAN: OUR IDENTITY THROUGH CLOTHES

It’s not often that I go to costume exhibitions, but with all the buzz about the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s (http://www.metmuseum.org/) new show, “American Woman: Fashioning a National Identity,” not to mention the hoards of “A” listers who showed up in all their finery including co-chairs from Oprah and Anna Wintour, I decided to play hooky, and check it out. The show explores perceptions of the modern American woman from the 1890s to the 1940s; in it, you will see 80 examples of jaw-gaping haute couture with every designer from Charles Frederick to Jean Patou.

For me, it’s about much more than the clothes– it’s about how we evolved and who we are now. Stroll through eight curved galleries, each with a hand-painted stage set evoking the ambience of that epoch. In the first gallery with its stage set evoking the ballroom of the “HEIRESS” (1890s), I wondered what it would be like had I been a “trustafarian,” raised to become a “conventional lady” (i.e., a “good girl.” In which strict rules of etiquette governed her behavior and appearance. Had I lived then, I’d have different outfits for morning, afternoon, and evening, all from the finest fashion houses in Europe. I think I could have taken that lifestyle for about 10 minutes.

The next gallery “GIBSON GIRL” (1890s), is much more my style. The dressed here are long and white for tennis (hard to race to a ball that way), full-length black for riding horses (did they ride side-saddle?) and ankle-length brown suits for biking. (The first bifurcated skirt appeared at this time, so at least I would have been able to keep up with the guys). The Gibson Girl was tall, slender, with long limbs, classical features, and thick dark hair in a chignon, She was the new woman, and the sports she played -- golf, tennis, riding, cycling, and swimming --exemplified her increasing independence and self-determination. I could easily live with that.

Next is BOHEMIAN (early 1900s) that took it a step beyond the Gibson Girl. The idea of a career for women did not yet exist, so the Bohemian collected art and organized museum exhibitions. The BEST thing about this decade is that she wore looser fitting clothes and ditched her corset (so why on earth did we create its iteration, Spanks?) The Bohemian’s clothes were of gold and bright colors, strongly influenced by Orientalism – think Opera coats and kimonos.

And then, all those sumptuous silks were put away for THE PATRIOT AND THE SUFFRAGIST 1910s, when the American woman demanded the right to vote. When the US entered World War I (April 6, 1917), patriots included more than 40,000 females. She marched in her tricolors of purple/white/and green) – her dress was part of her protest. On August 18, 1920, she earned the right to vote, only 80 years ago – still, there are women who don’t get out and vote. (Before moving on, I lingered here to watch archival film footage of women at work in the War -- well worth watching and I’m going to return to see all of the film).

I loved THE FLAPPER (1920s) clothes. In this decade, American women transformed themselves from suffragist to flapper. She had her political freedom, now she rejected Victorian prudishness and became sexually free. She wore bright red lipstick, cut her hair short, drank bootleg gin, smoked Lucky Strikes, danced the Charleston, and was a flirt. She was slim, athletic, hipless, waistless, and flat-chested, a symbol of sleek modernity, just like the NYC skyline.

The 1930s was the Golden Age of Hollywood. I moved into THE SCREEN SIREN gallery and looked at old footage of the 30s screen stars. By now, the American woman was sensuous, assertive, self-confident, and completely independent, just like us. She was glamorous, especially in her evening attire, and I could have worn anyone of those gorgeous draped, twisted, and wrapped costumes that were displayed.

I walked into the final gallery, a montage of faces of THE AMERICAN WOMAN from 1890s - 2010. Not much has changed for us in terms of attitude since the 20s – we’re still slim, even more athletic, and we can dance like the flapper, but we’re also sleek, sensual, and glamorous like the screen sirens. Hard to believe that in just 120 years, we’ve freed ourselves of corsets, girdles, and straps – both physically and mentally. If you’re in New York City, trust me – get to the Met and see the exhibition – from now through August 15^th.

I LOVE CENTRAL PARK

I love Central Park in all seasons – to walk, run, and bike in it. I love the park after a fresh snowfall when I’m the first to make footprints on the Great Lawn; and I love the park in the rain when no one’s around and I can wail “I’m Singing in the Rain” at the top of my lungs. In the summer, when it’s hot, there’s always a shady tree; and in autumn, I am mesmerized by the elms and maples cloaked in brilliant hues.

I used to run in the park without really seeing all it has to offer. Now, I rarely stick to the loop. I run on the pathways, under the bridges, through the Ramble and around the pond to the waterfalls in the west 90’s. Sure, I still count mileage. I know that the upper Reservoir track is 1.57 miles and the Bridle Path is 1.66, but I also know that the trees on the eastern side of the Reservoir are Yoshino Cherry trees, and the western side of the reservoir has Kwanzan cherries. My favorite spot is the North Woods where little has changed since the 1850’s and I feel as though I’m somewhere in the Adirondacks. On each run, I find something I’ve never seen before -- the Wisteria Pergola overlooking the Mall or the 13 original colonies engraved into the concrete walk above the fountain of the Conservatory Garden. If it weren’t for Central Park, I’d have no city oasis. I wanted to give back to my park in some way, but I wasn’t sure how. So I endowed a

bench. You can too – or endow a tree or a paving stone near Literary Walk. Just go to www.centralparknyc.org

Do you have Sinus or Allergies?

Sometimes my sinus and allergies get so bad, I have to cancel a triathlon or running race.

I thought a nettie pot was the cure, but it isn't -- I have discovered something called "Sinus Busters" which has pepper in it. Yes, it smarts a little when you sniff it up your nostrils, but only for a second, and IT WORKS! I haven't had a sinus attack since I started using it, which is remarkable. I got mine at amazon. It;s an all natural nasal spray. Try it!

OVERCOMING BOREDOM, DEPRESSION, STRESS

Bored? Tired? Depressed? It has been said, “Move a muscle, change a thought.” Go outside and walk around the block. Breathe. Don’t want to walk? Be a kid – find a swing set – you’ll be surprised how joyful flying in the air can make you feel.

HOW TO MOTIVATE YOURSELF TO WORK OUT/GET MOVING/EXERCISE

The very word “exercise” can feel like a brick wall, so instead of thinking of it as a barrier, let’s take this brick by brick. “Exercise” as a word can be daunting. Instead, try and think of it as “movement.” Just say to yourself, I am going to put on my sneakers, get dressed – even if it’s raining or snowing or hot – and go outside for just ten minutes. That’s all. Ten lousy minutes. I am going to run/walk/bike/skip – whatever kind of movement I enjoy – for ten little minutes.

Then, if you still hate it, you have earned the right to go back indoors and become your usual sluggish self. But I promise you, 99%, that after only five minutes, you’re going to say, Hey, this is kind of fun—or, I LIKE being outside – or, this isn’t half as hard as I thought AND it will give you a chance to be alone with your thoughts. Try it – you’ve got nothing to lose but ten minutes.