Catt Scratches

Wednesday was a day full of high intensity exercise: plyometrics, squats and presses and jumps. For one exercise, I had an elastic band stretched around my neck and fastened to my feet with stirrups. Then I was requested to jump back and forth across the studio like a frog. Like many exercises, my friend E has taught me, once you relinquish self consciousness, it was actually quite fun. Then, I had to jump sideways across a two foot box, pulling and pushing cables on a universal at the same time. It helped if you yelled out “POOM!” each time you pushed the cable. I had to be satisfied with yelling, “AAAARRGGH!” every time I pulled. For rest in between the more complicated exercises, I would jump forward, back or sideways on a one foot box or a two foot box. Pushing the envelope is my favorite exercise.

Not to fail to mention, the rest of the day involved court and pulling and pushing paper and teeth. Interesting, I never noted the similarity to dentistry in my work. Getting bitten, pulling teeth and wanting to kick teeth in. Various crises and schedule hijackings resulted in me not starting to pack until 10:00 pm and not getting to bed until 1:30. I hadn’t really packed my toiletries because I still needed them for the morning.

Thursday was a travel day. I was up by 4:45. I got ready, pretty well. I’m best when I’m in a coma and the auto-pilot is turned on. Shower, breakfast, load and start the dishwasher, last packing details. I realized later that I forgot to feed my cat and to bring my Ipod earbuds. But all in all, I was doing okay. The cab came, I grabbed the garbage and my luggage. You can see the possibilities for misstep there, can’t you? But the garbage did go in the dumpster and my luggage got into the trunk of the cab.

At the airport I had a scare. USAir directed me to United Airlines to check in and when I put my confirmation number in twice the computer said it didn’t know me. I caught the eye of a baggage handler. “I need help!” I said, and he flagged down an agent who played with my name and number and matched me to a flight. I went to the security line and a pint sized female TSA lady told me that there was no waiting on “3.” I said, where am I now? and she looked at me like I asked her for her home phone number. No matter, I walked over there and was told to get on line.

My luggage didn’t pass inspection; I had to wait until they verified that my powdered vegetable supplement was not a liquid or some form of narcotic. I headed for Starbuck’s which was right next to the gate. The plane boarded. I don’t want to complain, the trip was quick and efficient but far from perfect. There was a woman behind me intent on chatting up her good looking seat mate. She talked incessantly about her career in “Sales” and told him everything I didn’t want to know about what she sold, who she sold it to and what she sacrificed to be so successful.

The other difficulty was that the edge of my seat was about 12 inches from the back of the seat in the row in front of me. I have pretty long legs and they were sore from Wednesday’s marathon preparation work out. I tried to sleep on the plane and finally drifted off but the voice of the woman behind me intruded on my dreams and reminded me of the pain and woke me up. I had to get up and stretch so I went to the bathroom and stood for five minutes.

But once I got to Maine, everything was alright. I de-planed. My luggage arrived, which always amazes me, and I was able to secure a pretty red Focus with a USB jack so I could have my music with me. I liked the car rental rep so much I asked her for her boss’s card so I could tell him how awesome she was. She told me how to get to the Apple store in the Maine Mall which, like every Apple store, is populated with upbeat, intense yet tranquil employees. After I left, I was approached by an Israeli woman who sincerely wanted to sell me products based on Dead Sea Salts. They would have totalled $129 had I bought them. But she assured me that they would last me a year. Then I was desperate for food and I knew there had to be a food court somewhere. Before I found one, another sincere Israeli made a pitch for Dead Sea Salts. I don’t go to malls much, but I can recall seeing the Dead Sea Salespeople in malls before. I wondered if someone could get me some Dead Sea Scrolls. How come they were mining the salts on the bottom of the Dead Sea? Don’t they need those salts?

I am losing my focus here. This is about a marathon. And what it takes to run one and what it feels like to anticipate it. It’s not about dead Sea salts. Or is it?

I am happy in Maine for many reasons. I wrote this somewhere else so forgive me if I repeat myself. When I get here, I get the feeling that I am a lost puzzle piece that rejoins her puzzle. The air, the mountains, the attitude, the combination of air and sea and mountain. I like the sharpness of the weather. I like the battered elegance of the town of Bar Harbor. I like how people walk around this town in jeans and t shirts and casual hair and seem like millionaires. it feels like home.

I run here because of that. New York is where I was born but I have no interest in running there. I don’t feel the connection. Chicago, I am too connected. I know it too well, like the route I take to work in the morning. Here, somehow, I feel like I contribute to the mystery of Maine by running around Mount Desert island. Past the Sommes Sound Tree. I feel like my sneakers leave my mark here.

The weather has me crazy. I’ve been watching it for a week and it’s coming down to rain on Sunday, sometimes heavily. It occupied my mind as an obstacle, a great big dragon in my way. I was busy fussing with it internally when I realized the Runner’s Expo was open and I was about to pass it on the way to Bangor. I decided to stop. While parking, I was so preoccupied, that I almost hit a pedestrian, a woman who looked at me with a twisted little “How dare you try to run me down!” smile. I thought, holy shit. I’m so lost in the anticipation of rain that I’m dangerous. The first thing I did when I got into the expo, was find her and apologize to her. She was about ten years younger than me and with her mom and she thanked me for coming up to her and said, “See Mom, this isn’t Florida. See how nice people are here?” Jeez, lady, I’m from Brooklyn. Give me a break.

I got my race packet and stopped by the Crow Athletic booth and looked for T-shirts. I talked to the woman in the booth about my fear of running in the rain. She said, the other woman working with her was running too and she was concerned. Then that woman came up and we started talking about hats and head bands and I picked out one of each and between dri-fit tanks, hats, headbands, sox and belts, I felt like I had protection enough. The attitude of the woman in the booth who was running was, “oh, yeah, wear a hat. I have four of them.” And I thought, just like that, dragon slain.

Leaving the expo, I was so excited, that I had to talk to someone. My kid was on a plane, I was saving Edith for tomorrow’s desperation, so I thought of OJ, who put me right in a couple of minutes although we talked for another hour or so while I drove to pick my daughter up at the Bangor airport.

Tomorrow is the breakfast run followed by an awesome carb filled breakfast. I’m pretty excited. I’m planning on a small mountain climb in the afternoon to tire me out enough to sleep before the run. I better watch the caffeine too.

It is so hard to turn my mind down a notch. If my brain could due the 26.2 miles, I’d have nothing to worry about. Well, I suppose it is my brain that’s doing the race. Enough for now.