Don't Smoke and Run

During a walk on this beautiful sun-drenched day in Prospect Park, my beau and I came across a few Super Bowl inspired neighborhood football games.

None were organized in the sense of markers, jerseys or in some cases sneakers, but all had that "It's the last down, hail-Mary pass, ten seconds left" spirit to them.

We were drawn to one group that appeared to have quite a following and a lot of screaming and my-driveway-is-bigger-than-yours (a phrase a high school friend came up with to make fun of the kids who spent their time trying to figure out the newest way to out do the next kid) contests.

I'm not really sure who was winning because pass after pass was dropped or just not even close to being caught, but what I really liked about them was their ability to trash talk despite their inability to play. It was beautiful.

One of my favorite interactions between the better (? better is really up for discussion) was between a Joe Pesci look alike with cut off sweatpants with high red socks (think The Super), a puffy coat and a hoodie pulled over his head and one of his teammates.

Before I describe this, I have to explain that Pesci had just failed to complete a big pass and before this last bad pass he had fallen and before that he let a touchdown go by failing to touch the guy who was maybe four feet away from him and not doing any fancy foot work, nor was he that fast.

"Tower?" Pesci's roommate would scream (right next to him).

"Yea!" Pesci replied.

"Tower, you in the building?"

"Yeah!" Pesci yelled.

"Tower, you in the building?!"

"I AM the Building," Pesci screamed.

It was great. As this was conversation was going on the teams were lining up and one tall skinny kid on the opposing team turned his head to the sidelines very quickly and screamed,

"Hey, you smoking? I know you've got a cigarette, come on, Papa, give me a puff."

So, he runs out of the line up and takes a drag of some fan's cigarette before running back to the line up.

While that was bad, I've seen worse, which brings me to the title of the post.

During the NYC marathon I was just about to walk (definitely walking at this point and didn't start running again until Mile 16 over the 59th street bridge) over the Polanski bridge, which connects Greenpoint with Queens, when I saw her.

A woman walking about fifteen feet ahead and to the right of me.

She was SMOKING. Let me say that again, she was in the NYC marathon and SMOKING.

It was ridiculous, offensive and wonderfully funny all at the same time.

Eli, Eli, Eli!

As some have commented, Eli Manning is not exactly the alpha quarterback that coaches hope to have.

He's got the baby face. The "befuddled" look about him after a play goes wrong or right and just always seems to be out of place.

And yet, you have to root for him–I feel like I'm watching my son or brother playing (I have neither) when I am watching Eli.

He always looks lost, like he just haphazardly walked onto the field and they stuck a football in his hand and said give it a shot and somehow he's still here three years later.

But I'm not counting Eli out, sure he gets nervous–a lot.

Sure he throws interceptions–a lot.

Sure he freezes–a lot.

But when he's good, he's great.

He just needs that first touchdown and then he'll be off.

Can't wait to watch him during my Super Bowl extravaganza on Feb. 3, 2008.

Why a New England Girl is Rooting for the Giants

The title of the post has already alienated me from my Mom, boyfriend, a few colleagues and of course, most of New England.

But I don't care.

No–I'm rooting for the Giants. The David of this year's Super Bowl.

Sure there are lots of reasons I should hope that the Patriots should win:

1. I'm from Connecticut
2. Tom Brady is cuter than Eli Manning (although I'm not entirely convinced of this)
3. That whole 17 and 0 thing they've got going
4. Tons of other reasons that any New England fan will happily fill you in on if asked or even if you don't ask or just happen to walk by them, most likely they will be talking/ranting/raving about how the Patriots are going to kill the Giants in two weeks.

But I've got one good reason that's enough for me to root for the Giants:
They're the underdogs.

I love underdogs, which explains my love for the Red Sox for so many years (and why I'm sporting a Mets cap during baseball season, although I'm still a Sox fan at heart despite winning two World Series).

And everyone expects the Giants to be crushed, slaughtered- sort of a sacrificial offering to the Super Bowl gods on behalf of the Patriots to start a legacy- but I'm not interested in that.

I'd like to watch the Super Bowl and not have to wait for the next great Doritos commercial because we already know who's going to win.

No, I'd like to see the Giants take on their Goliath (no pun intended) and surprise everyone, but most of all Mr. Football himself, Mr. Tom-I-date-and-impregnate-hot-women-and-think-I'm-amazing-despite-throwing-
three-interceptions-against-San-Diego-Brady, and serve up their own lamb for sacrifice.

Anne Curry vs. Matt Lauer

During a gym session this morning, my friend and colleague and I were watching NBC's Today Show while working it out on the treadmill.

I mentioned to her that I am not a fan of Matt Lauer–I know that most viewers love Matt, but there's just something about him that's always bugged me–I don't know what it is.

Maybe it's just that he's too cute, too nice and too good at his job. Those kind of people always bug me; really, who can be that put together that early in the morning? And I realize this is probably an irrational dislike, but since when do you have to be rational in blog posts?

But I digress ... my exercising partner was appalled. "Not like Matt Lauer?" she asked in horror, "How can you not like Matt Lauer?'

I'd like to point out a few things here.

First, I get this response a lot.

Second, in every conversation in which I have discussed Matt, everyone says his first and last name when speaking about him. Can't we just go with Matt? Isn't that acceptable to relinquish the last name after the person's been identified in the conversation?

Nope. Not good enough for Matt Lauer. Got to say his last name too. I bet it's in his contract.

I started to explain my reasons, which are pretty well thought out at this point, when she appeared on screen. None other than Miss Anne Curry.

I love her.

Some people will say, oh you, you're overstating it. To them I say no ... no, I'm not.

Can you find a better morning news anchor than Anne? I don't think so.

(Notice I just say Anne and not her last name because that's the level I feel we're at- oh you've met? you might ask, no, no we haven't. But she's just one of those morning reporters that makes me feel like she could be like my friend or like best friend or something, I mean like ever)

My friend respectfully, but ignorantly disagreed with me.

So we're taking a poll to see what the general public thinks:

The Amazing Anne Curry or the Know-it-all-cuter-than-a-button-Matt Lauer (don't forget his last name!)

Comment in. The (unbiased) polls are open until Tuesday, January 22, 2008.

News: Serbia's not interested

This really isn't a post about Serbia announcing it is not willing to concede it's sovereignty over Kosovo despite the consequences of losing a shot at the EU.

This is really a post about one of my favorite sayings in the title of a Newsweek article: Sorry, Not Interested. I don't use the sorry as much as the not interested part.

Love it!

Running: best running store

This is a quickie, but on Sunday afternoon I had the best experience at Jack Rabbit, a running store on 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.

Todd, who I later found out is the store manager, sought me out as a confused and overwhelmed customer and found me a great sneaker.

He asked me few questions about my running, then looked at my feet and said he guessed I'm a pronator, which I am, and then filmed me running on a treadmill and analyzed my running.

He was funny, polite, but most important, he thoughtfully answered every question I had (and I had a lot of them) about running, sneakers, running hats, marathons, half marathons and the Iron Man competition (I don't have any fantasies about doing one of these any time soon, but find it particularly interesting).

Running: best doctor, best running mag and cool new running-tracking site (it's a blog and I can make up phrases if I want to)

Since I'm entering a little health competition with my friends, I'm starting running again this weekend. Okay, in the interest of candor–of which I am a huge fan– what I do is not what most would consider "running", it's more jogging-and-looking-sometimes-stopping-at-tag-sales-or-to-look-at-something-cool/interesting. But since I did run the NYC Marathon–again not so much as run as jog/walk/jog and walk– I've picked up my favorite running magazine, Runner's World, which is also online and I find that incredibly useful.

It offers something for just about everyone that has an interest in running: for new runners, it has a beginner's section, for veterans it has articles on how to up your personal records and for everyone in between they have running schedules, running events and even injury advice.

This brings me to my third point, which I guess I should switch the organization of my title around, but I just love that I don't have to because it's a blog- it's like get out of jail card- my favorite doctor: Jim Wharton. Okay, he's not really a doctor, but a stretching guru, but anyone who can fix my back like he did, I consider a doctor (when several others including chiropractors have failed). I went to the Wharton Center on the Upper West Side about three months into my training and ten years of back pain. The marathon training had pushed me over the edge of pain and I had to do something- Wharton showed me all of the stretches I needed to heal my back. It just so happens that Jim is in every month's runner's world with suggestions on how to stretch better and avoid injury.

Lastly, I also highly recommend a new site my friend and running guru (that's the word of today's post) Liz gave me: Flotrack. It lets you connect with other runners and see what events are available all while updating your personal training information.

News: Bilawal

I recently wrote a story on Bilawal Bhutto Zardari's first press conference. To lose your Mom and then be thrust into a role you don't really have any say in accepting–I can't imagine. But of course I can't imagine, none of us can really.

But what most of us can imagine because most of us have been there is being a freshman in college and going on vacation for Christmas holiday, which is exactly where and what Bilawal was doing before he received notice to come home.

While Bilawal held great composure and did a decent job of handling the questions from reporters, it's obvious the entire time you're watching him that he's only 19. For most of the conference he keeps a veil, albeit a thin one, over the fact that he is not experienced at this and doesn't really want to be there.

At one point in the conference he slips back into college mode and remarks, "Okay, Wow" at one reporter's three part question.

It's mid-way through the conference before Bilawal is roughed up by reporter Jeremy Paxman, who showed no mercy that he was dealing with a teenager who has lost his mother and been thrust into the limelight all within two weeks.

As one Guardian reporter stated, "It was like watching a bully kicking a kitten."

Hopefully, Bilawal will receive the privacy he's requested while studying at Oxford University for the next few years before returning to Pakistan to act as leader of the Pakistan People's Party.

Haley Maley

Hey Haley,

Thanks for my blog.

Best,

Kate