Boylston Ten Miler

LSD.  That's 70's runners' talk for Long Slow Distance.

That was my objective, or one of them, anyway, when I headed up to Boylston last weekend to share Easter and my nephew's birthday with my brother and his family.   I had seen my brother the weekend before on my mom's birthday, and I had noticed his lean frame - he'd been running three times a week, he told me, proudly.   It's had a decidedly good effect on his midriff.  The push ups and pull ups have been a help too.  I told him then, that on my visit the following weekend, I needed to get in a 10 mile run.  No problem, he said, I'll map out a course for you.

So, after I arrived in Boylston on Friday night, with incense still in our clothes from the Good Friday service at All Saints Worcester, we sat down at the computer and he showed me the run he had designed for me on mapmyrun.com.  It was an easy loop around Boylston, it appeared, until he showed me the gradation on the map.  A little bit of hill there during the second half of the run.  But I like hills, have liked them since I started running cross country in college, and like running past people who don't like hills.  One of my best Boston Marathons was the race in 1993 in which I was passing people on what is known as Heartbreak Hill.  I'd run a very smart race that year, and actually felt strong on those hills.  I was proud of that race.

Saturday morning we headed out in the morning to do some shopping for Easter dinner, and Eric drove me on a good part of the run I was going to do later that afternoon.  It was a rolling run for most of the first five miles, with a nice big hill to reach mile 6.  The rest of the run he described, but we didn't drive, as I supposedly knew the terrain.   We did our errands, ate some lunch, and then I took a nap.  I'd done a short four miler (what I now know as a 4.6 miler, having mapped it on the mapmyrun website) the day before, and was a little bit tired.  But I did not want to put off this long run; it was going to be easier to have it over with, rather than wait another day to run it.  Sunday was going to be busy with Easter morning church service, and a big Easter dinner with fourteen people at the house, so the run was definitely going to happen on Saturday.

Eric was going to run part of the way with me, so we both put on shorts (I thought about wearing tights, but it was a borderline 54 degrees, and not that cold) and our running shoes and headed out the door just after 3.  I told my brother that it would be good for me to start slow and warm up with him - to be honest, though, he was doing a good steady pace as we got going, and it didn't feel that slow to start!  But I left him about a mile and a half into the run, and headed towards the rolling hills.

I left him on Route 70 and headed down Mill Road.  It was quite scenic, with a pond on the right of the road, and still blooming forsythia and daffodils along the way.  It was breezy though; I had decided to wear my running jacket and a baseball cap, and I was glad I did.  I'm not a runner that feels like she has to brave the cold!  Wearing warm clothes is a good thing.   I have painful memories of watching the young men and women of Columbia and the other Ivies at the Heptagonal Championships in late October last year - the day of the big snow in the Northeast - running through cold, freezing rain (the ladies) and then snow (the men) in their shorts and singlets.  One of the top Columbia men ended the race with hypothermia - I'm not sure what the coach was thinking when he let them go out and run 3 plus miles with those skimpy clothes.

But I digress.

I headed from Mill to Sewall Street, heading through miles 4 and 5.  I ran past the Worcester Rifle and Gun Club, and was serenaded with shots from the shooting range.  I was feeling pretty good.  Nothing was sore or hurting, like my 8 miler two weeks earlier.  On that run, twice around Central Park's inner loop, my glutes were sore a good part of the run, and other muscles complained too.  I didn't really want to repeat that!  But as I crossed the main road and headed up the hill to mile 6, everything was still feeling OK.

I was happy to have driven the first 6 miles earlier in the day, it made that first part of the run familiar, and somehow easy mentally.  It was the second half, the next four miles, that were a bit harder.  Somehow, when you don't know where you are, the distance always seems longer than it is.  But I was determined not to worry about it, and focused on my pace and my stride, carefully monitoring my legs as I ran up and down the rolling lane in the woods.  My core was particularly steady, I noted, the happy result of almost four years of Pilates.  I'm a big promoter of the practice, and think it has made me a better runner.  I run straighter, and more centered, with a strong set of abdominal muscles.

Approaching a crossroads, I paused briefly.  I wasn't sure whether to turn left, or keep going straight.  I didn't remember what Eric had said, or what the map looked like that we had reviewed the night before.  This is why I study maps countless times before I go running.  I have a very good sense of direction, but I also like to be certain, doubly certain, of where I am going.  When I am in an unfamiliar city, I will find a map and memorize names of streets and turns so that I won't get lost.  Not that it would be horrible to be lost, but I take great pride in knowing where I am, and it gives me a feeling of accomplishment.

I wasn't sure, so I went straight, past the country club and down another rolling hill.  (I was supposed to have taken the left.  I ended up adding a half mile to my run.)  This time, my calves were feeling the hill.  I've gone a good distance, I thought.  I certainly wasn't going for a strong pace at this point, my objective was to finish 10 miles, running.  I followed the road around for half a mile, and then came up to another crossroads.  At this point, I decided I was not on the mapped route, and needed to make some "on the run" decisions about direction.  I took a left at the crossroads; it felt like it was the direction I needed to be headed.  I climbed another rolling hill, and tried to tamper down the feeling that I was lost.  Not lost, I told myself; there weren't that many roads in this little town; I'd find my way back.

At the end of the road, I hit another road, and took a moment to stop and look around.  And then I saw the Route 70 sign, and knew where I was.  Big relief.  I ran down the hill, past the nature center where I've run in the past, and took the left at the T toward my brother's house.  As I was running up the last hill, my nephew drove by, on his way back from his tennis game, and waved.  It felt good to see him.

I was not going fast at all at this point, I just knew I had half a mile to go to reach Kendall Farm.  I ran to the top of the road - a steep hill leads to my brother's house - and walked for a minute.  Then as the house came into view, I saw my brother at the end of his driveway.  I started running down the hill, with my arms above my head.  Not the Boston Marathon, but the finish of my first 10 miler since 1993.  18 years is a long time, but my body remembered what to do.

26.2, here I come.

St. Brigid's 5K

This morning I celebrated my mom's birthday by running a 5K race in Amherst. To be more precise, Mom, Dad and I all marked the day with our participation in a race/walk to benefit the local Catholic church, St. Brigid's. Mom and I had seen the race advertisement in a walk through town last weekend, on the lawn of the church in downtown Amherst, and I thought it would be fun - my mom ran races with me back in the 80's in NYC and Boston, when I was just starting running - and my dad had run his first race in November, when he walked the 5K race in Rehoboth in which everyone in the family had participated. I put it on the list of things to do this weekend, and both mom and dad seemed interested, anyway.

When I arrived in Amherst on Friday night, however, my Dad complained that it would be snowing on Saturday morning, and he groused that he didn't want to be out in the snow. My mom had gotten race forms, however, so she and I filled them out, to be ready for the next day. Rain was definitely predicted, but we decided we would make up our minds the next morning.

Saturday morning broke with a cloudy sky, and chilly, but with no rain. My brother arrived just after 8 from Worcester to join us for a birthday breakfast with my mom, a festive occasion. (He doesn't pop over to see them that often.) We were going to leave for the 11 a.m. race at 10 - and it still wasn't raining as the hour approached 10, so my dad decided he was in with mom and me. Eric bid us goodbye, and we started off to the UMASS football field, where the race was to start from. As we were driving the 8 minutes to the field, I noticed snow flakes. My Dad's prediction had come true - snow! But the snow was just spitting (as we say, generally about rain, in New England) - it was not coming down hard, and it wasn't getting in the way of anything (my dad later went back home to get his gloves - he wasn't going to run with cold hands!).

We arrived just after 10 at the field, and registered - I was going to run the 5K and mom and dad would walk the 1.5 mile out and back - and then we had 45 minutes to wait. I generally like to be at a race about 45 minutes ahead of time - that gives me enough time to find the bathrooms, do a mile jog, stretch, go to the bathroom a few more times, and prepare mentally for the race.

It was snowing at that point, and I suggested that we all go back and sit in the car and keep warm. That's when Dad decided to go for his gloves, and I decided to do my jogging. Mom joined me in finding a bathroom, and then got on her phone with her granddaughter for a good chat.

So, as you might imagine, this race was meant to figure into my marathon training. It had not been a great training week. On Monday, I ran the full 6 mile loop in the Park (although I am running on the horsepath these days, so am not sure that the mileage is exactly 6 miles - seems a little more), and then did an elliptical workout on Wednesday in my gym - a full 40 minutes, which I haven't done in a while. I was going to do my hardcore Pilates class on Thursday night, but that morning, my niece called to invite me to see "Porgy and Bess" with her on Broadway, and I decided to forgo Pilates and spend the evening with my niece; she won't be in NYC after May, and it's always good to see a Broadway musical at a cheap price (she got last minute student price tickets)!

I awoke on Friday morning, expecting to do a run, but I was really tired (I had been out every night that week, and it was a stressful week at work), and very logy, and decided I would sleep in, and run the race on Saturday instead.

So I was at the track at UMASS, doing sprints in the intermittent and lightly falling rain/snow, and wondering how my legs would stand up for me.

It was a small local race, and certainly the weather figured into the 60 or so folks that showed up to run. I stood at the starting line with tall, thin guys in tank tops and shorts; I was in tights and wearing my trusty 25 year old LLBean running jacket over my long-sleeved Barnard t-shirt and wearing my PricewaterhouseCoopers baseball cap. Intimidated? Heaven's, no! But fun to hear the racing talk amongst the guys. I heard the Westfield Half Marathon mentioned a few times; it was to be run on Sunday morning, and I knew about it because I had originally thought it would be a good race to target for a long run. But as I got my training going, I realized it would take some time for me to get myself ready to run a half-marathon - currently, I am signed up for the Whately (MA) Half Marathon to be run on Mother's Day in May.

The race took off at 11 a.m. The rain/snow had stopped. The skies were grey, the wind was chilly. The families at the start cheered as we took off at the gun. The blinking blue lights of the police car at the intersection would be our first indication that we were headed for the open road.

I started off fast, with the guys, and then realized they were going to run a 15 minute 5K and I was going to finish at least 5 minutes behind them, and eased back. But I did find a pace that worked for me, and got my head thinking about how I was feeling and how and whether I could stretch the pace to pick it up.

Back when I was running cross country in college, my coach would tell us to go out fast the first mile (but not too fast), hang in there in mile 2, and then pick it up in mile 3 and sprint to the finish (the last tenth of a mile). I decided to follow that plan (more or less), and helpfully, there were mile markers on the road. The race, while small, was well run by the Sugarloaf Mountain Athletic Club - the road markings were good, and we had good police protection and guidance - and even a water stop! - along the route.

I was breathing pretty hard, but not too hard - this was my first race since November, after all, and I didn't need to kill myself. But I was running by myself pretty much the entire race, which makes it hard to push yourself. When I was in the last mile, we were running on the track around the UMASS Stadium, and it felt like a good time to start trying to move in on the few guys I could see in front of me. I started striding, as my coach would call it, running at full stride, sort of like a horse cantering (not quite galloping), and tried to close the gap between myself and the older man ahead of me. It worked, I did close the gap, but I didn't reach him - but the push felt good.

I finished the race in 21:12, 30 seconds slower than my November 5K time, but I felt pretty good. I was third in my age group (40-49), and again, the woman who won the race was over 40, so I was actually second in my age group in the awards. I can't wait to turn 50 (in six weeks!) and start competing against women my own age! The woman who won the 50-59 category ran the race in 26 minutes...

So, the plan is to get some long runs in during April (in Worcester, DC and NY), and come back to Western Massachusetts in May to do the Half Marathon. That will tell me how much work I have to do in the following six months. I have signed up to run the NYRR Mini Marathon in early June (and the JP Morgan Chase Corporate Challenge a week later). I'm looking forward to running with my race partner, Jean-Yves, in Paris in late June too. July will be a series of long runs, and August will bring a trip to Washington State, where I hope to have at least one good long run that is not in the heat!

That's the plan.

A pretty fast 5K under my belt. A good omen.

Training Log

So I'm in. Blame Jean-Yves. Or my ego. Or my desire to mark my 50th year with something that was just for me.

I've got a number to run in the 2012 New York City Marathon. Jean-Yves is going to run it too, my running-singing French friend who has been my inspiration for entering the race. I'm going to depend on alot of other friends too, but this is going to be a solo trip in many ways. I'll be training on my own - although I have ideas about trying to do some training with the Central Park Track Club on Thursday nights in the Park.

November 4th. It's less than 8 months away. I haven't run a marathon since 1993. A fantastic race in Boston that year, capping 8 years and 5 marathon races from Washington to New York to Boston. I was in good shape then - I think my time in '93 was something around 3:37; my best in 1988 was 3:17. I'm hoping (perhaps unrealistically) to run my '93 time or thereabouts.

I figured writing regularly about my journey to November would be another birthday present to myself. And so, here I go.

Wheeeee!

Elections 2010

I’ve been pondering the election results since this morning, when I actually shouted at the TV a couple of times during my workout, as I watched Republicans talk about their victories and what it means for country. The dribble coming out of their mouths was all the same – no specifics, only the “big government is bad” and “we’ve got to close the deficit” rhetoric. What exactly is big government? No one ever explains. Reagan was all about smaller government, but if I recall, the government actually ballooned during his tenure. And, frankly, the deficit ballooned under W., too – and nobody thought it was a big deal then.

All I can think is, Rupert Murdoch must be grinning all over. Or maybe he’s totally bummed he didn’t win the Senate. Because he’s the one who paid for all the advertising and all the people (Fox news people, Sarah Palin, and everyone else) to repeat his mantra. They don’t all know what his end game is (I’m pretty darn sure he doesn’t clue them in), but he is paying them all enough not to ask. And that includes the Republicans in Congress. They know they just need to keep up the patter. If not Rupert himself, I’m sure there’s someone from his inner circle participating these days in the deliberations of the Boehner boys. Believe me, the Tea Party would have been nothing without Fox News coverage. Murdoch saw that as an opportunity. Especially because they have no leader. Ideal for his purposes.

Why aren’t we talking about Rupert Murdoch’s influence in this election? Because he’s a very bright man, and bought a media empire, so he could say (or rather, have his people say) whatever he wants under the protection of the First Amendment.

Those are my thoughts.

Around the Block from Ground Zero

The Newseum reopened last year in Washington, DC (it had previously been located in Rosslyn, across the river) in a beautiful building not far from the Capitol on Pennsylvania Avenue. I was in the museum last week for a short visit on a frigid but sunny January day (that's all we've had in January 2010 so far it seems to me). We didn't have alot of time to spend in the museum (you definitely can spend hours there; the tickets are good for two days, apparently acknowledging this fact), so my friend guided me upstairs to a few exhibits, including the film clips of Woodstock (very cool), copies of the first printed books, and the 9/11 exhibit.

The 9/11 exhibit is an area with a piece of the World Trade Center, and a two story wall showing front pages of newspapers from around the world, mostly from September 12th, 2001. There's an exhibit describing the life and last moments of the only reporter (a photographer) killed on 9/11 in the course of his work. And in a small theater behind the huge wall of newspapers, there's a 10 minute film running. The film recounts the morning of 9/11, and the memories (and actual footage) of reporters who were working that day in NYC, covering the story as the second plane flew into the second tower, and as the towers cratered one by one that morning. It was extraordinarily moving. Actually, it made me sick.

The film and the exhibit can't help but prompt those watching share the story of where they were that day. My friend and I shared our stories of that day while we stood in front of the piece of the WTC there in the museum. As I shared my story of being in NYC that day, I was reminded of the email I sent to family and friends on September 12th; the subject header was "The Day After."

* * *

I'm at work this morning, after spending the night with Clara and Bevis at their home on Central Park West. I went for a run last night in Central Park around 5:30 p.m. -- the park was car-free, but busy with bikers and runners and families pushing strollers, husbands still in jacket and tie and wives listening as tales of the morning were recounted . . . the surrealness of the morning was reinforced by the sight of people doing normal things on a very un-normal day. At the end of my run I walked up to the Reservoir to take another look at the skyline to the south and could still see the smoke rising in the tower-less horizon.

I took the bus to mid-town this morning. The streets seemed quiet, but it wasn't until I got off in Times Square and stood there for a moment, looking at the huge screen broadcasting the Today Show, that I realized how quiet the square was. I usually stay at the Marriott right there in Times Square (last night I thought it would feel better to stay with friends -- it did) and walk through Times Square to work. At 8 a.m it was eerily quiet -- and again, as I looked south, the towers were still not there. Very few people on the streets; no New York Times or Wall Street Journal to be found at the newstands, which were open. All the Starbucks were closed
too -- out of deference to the tragedy, I'm guessing.

Here at JPMorgan, there is a skeletal staff today. I'm helping out manning the phones of the head of the investment management business, as his secretary is out today. I sat in on his management team meeting and learned that the business is doing OK -- mostly managing clients and their questions at this point -- but that the human toll, in terms of people losing friends and relatives, was just beginning to be felt.

I learned via email that five PwC employees lost their lives in airplanes, apparently, yesterday. One partner was on one of the planes that went into the WTC. I also learned that a former colleague, Chris Morrison, was at a breakfast conference at Windows on the World (at the top of the WTC)yesterday. He was a member of my group and had left us in January to join his client. He was a very good friend and former protege of my partner, so this is a particularly close loss. It is unbelievably sad.

Yesterday we all heard survivor stories. Today we are hearing the stories of death. It is a very sad day.

My lasting memories of yesterday: A beautiful sunrise over the lower tip of Manhattan as I flew in at 7 a.m. to LaGuardia; the horrible sight of the twin towers billowing smoke at 9:15 a.m. as I stood on the 41st floor at 47th and Sixth Avenue; the shock in everyone's eyes on the trading floor as we watched on TV first one, then the second tower disappear in a cloud of smoke and debris.

I'm headed back to Washington this afternoon on Amtrak -- home to another wounded city.

* * *

Today I live around the corner from Ground Zero. When I take the E train sometimes to the last stop, World Trade Center, I leave the train and walk upstairs into the crowds of tourists that are almost constantly in the area - taking pictures of the cranes and the worksite that is currently building the Memorial on the WTC footprint. I walked into the Preview Center for the site on Vesey Street, behind my building, one Sunday afternoon. The Center has exhibits of what happened that day, and a diorama of the planned memorial. Living around the block from the site, I felt like I should know what was going on there.

9/11 seems long ago in some ways, but in other ways it is very close - for many New Yorkers, it is seared into memories - and I find people are always willing to talk about it. Since I have been back in NYC, I have had the "what happened to me that day" discussion with many people. Even last night, my friends, who had just been to see the Newseum in Washington too, recounted their experience that day. I hadn't know their story. Sometimes it's too difficult to listen to more than one story; I didn't tell them about my day that day; it was enough to hear what was their collective story.

The Christmas Bomber has brought back discussions of 9/11, and our country's ability to keep another 9/11 from happening. It seems pretty clear we're not there yet, but we're working on it. One of the reasons I like Obama is that I think he's going to what I think is right. And his reaction to the 12/25 incident reinforces that feeling - he came out and said that we weren't doing enough to catch terrorists and that we had to make some changes to get our intelligence community working together better (to say nothing of getting systems in place so that we can do that). And what pleased me about his reaction was the fact in so saying, it was clear that he had let go completely of that hubris that I think went a long way to making the events of 9/11 a reality - the hubris that allowed Americans to think that no one would ever attack us on our soil. We don't believe that anymore, and our President is telling the American people that he is committed to fighting terrorism (and also said so eloquently in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech).

Every day I walk in sight of the place where our country experienced its worst day of violence. It makes me feel better to know that, despite Dick Cheney's cynicism, there are people in my government committed to making sure it never happens again.

New Year Aspirations

As we enter 2010, I'm not so much making resolutions as setting aspirations for myself. Rather than setting concrete goals, thinking about where I'd like to be headed seems much more achievable. Just as I found it took time to unwind from decades of a fast-paced life when I reached France in August 2008, now back in the States, I am taking time to plan for the next phase of my life.

I've been talking to my life coach, Cynthia (highly recommend this, a life coach, by the way), and she suggested I think about what it is I want to be doing 10 years from now. Now, that's certainly a different way to think, but I get why she is pointing me in that direction. Only by doing things now to prepare for what it is or who I want to be in 10 years will I get there. I used to be a five year plan person, but the 10 year plan makes sense to me now.

In 10 years, do I want to be back on the beaches of Nice? Do I want to be coaching high school cross-country runners? Do I want to be sitting on several philanthropic boards? Do I want to be counseling women on financial matters? All these are things I have thought about doing in my future. But maybe I work first on where - then what.

In the interim, I'm quite focused on some things that matter to me right now. My aspirations for 2010 are to excel in my job, get to know more people in my company, and build networks there. I want to keep writing in my field, and I'd like to begin speaking too, if my company agrees. I will continue to build on my support of Barnard, through the Athena Leadership Center, and of women's athletics at Columbia, through the Women's Leadership Council. This is the year that I look forward to reconnecting with my Wharton classmates at our 15th Reunion, and with my ARHS classmates at our 30th! I plan to visit family in Norfolk, friends in Sarasota, Eugene, Fillmore, and Oakland (so far). I plan to make my parent's 50th Anniversary as memorable as possible. And plan to help my Dad enter his 80's as effortlessly as possible.

That's quite a list. Plenty for the first year of this decade. As to what I'll be doing at the end of it, more to come.

Remembering 2009

2009 began for me on the side of Okemo Mountain in Vermont, with my family, and will end in Washington, DC, with my friend Becky and her family. In between, are many memories of a fabulous year with family and friends. Reconnecting and sharing were the themes for the year. My readers know my chronicling tendencies - herewith, a shortened chronicle (details are in earlier posts!) of the year that ended the Aughts.

January:

• Driving through the Swiss Alps on my way to Zurich from Nice, a good 9 hour drive.
• Visiting my birthplace, Heidelberg, in the cold rain, and going for a run through the city to warm up!
• Visiting my friend Uli shortly before the death of his 43 year old cousin from breast cancer.
• Making the drive back to Nice just in time to watch President Obama recite the oath of office on French TV.

February

• A short visit to London during which I reconnected with former Glee Clubber and Barnard alum Clare Delmar.
• Two weeks with my folks as they came to visit me in Nice. It was a visit I was a little anxious about, but we had a great time, and explored lots of new places in Nice and Provence.

March

• A visit to the States which included stops in DC and NYC, and catching up with my brother in law and nephew, my niece and friend Vi, and tax planning with friend/accountant Andre.
• A whirlwind visit from my friend Bill, who flew down to Nice from Paris on Saturday morning, saw me perform with my chorus in an afternoon concert, had dinner on the Promenade and then departed the next morning at 6 a.m. But he had a beautiful day in Nice!
• Three days in Copenhagen, my first time back since 1972, and a chance to make some new business contacts in the financial services world abroad.

April

• A last minute appearance as conductor for my Gospel Choir's Palm Sunday performance at my church in Nice, and the unexpected presence of my friend Priscilla to hear the group during the service.
• A two day visit from German friend Uli and his girlfriend Jutta, allowing me to reciprocate all of his wonderful hospitality. We did Monaco in a few hours, and spent as much time as we could on the beach. Wunderbar!
• My third and last visit to Paris hosted by Olivier and Jean-Yves. This visit included a reunion with my former track teammate Ginny, and a chance to meet her Barnard-bound daughter.

May
A month in which I was on perpetual jet lag, as I went back and forth to the States three times.

• The excitement of being honored by the Barnard-Columbia Athletic Consortium for my contributions to the program as an alumna, and my parents and friends being there to help me celebrate.
• A wonderful gathering of New Amsterdam Singer friends on the Upper West Side who joined me for a festive birthday celebration.
• The honor of sitting on the dais for Barnard's Commencement ceremony with the Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, who impressed me with her speech and appeal to the young women graduating.
• The thrill of sitting on the dais of Columbia's Commencement, this time as an honoree of the Columbia Medal by the Columbia Alumni Association.
• Nearly two weeks of entertaining friends in Nice; first with my friend Jeff and then with Janie and Chuck. I was getting pretty good at this tour guide thing by now.

June

• Celebrating my nephew's high school graduation and then flying up to join my classmates at our 25th reunion at Barnard.
• Returning to Nice (minus my luggage) for a wonderful weekend in St. Tropez with Jean-Yves and Olivier. Sitting on the beach at their beach club was never so good. The jellyfish bite I could have done without.
• My one golf round in France, made possible by Priscilla and orchestrated by Phillippe. I played like a pro for four holes, and then wished it hadn't been 9 months since my last golf game...

July

• Entertaining my cousin Matt and his friend and watching Wimbledon at a British pub down in the Old Town of Nice.
• Welcoming my brother in law to Nice, and ogling the preparations for the Tour de France first day in Monaco, then meeting my sister and her son for their stay with me.
• Five days in Bordeaux with my sister and her family - visiting two families that went out of their way to make our visit to their homes extraordinary.
• A final visit to London (and a scare at Customs at the Stansted airport) that included a reunion with my former colleague, Dean, and some lovely meals at restaurants of his suggestion!
• Final dinners with friends in Nice, and the much appreciated help from my mom, who came for a week to coordinate my packing as I was reaching the end of my time on the Cote d'Azur.

August

• A final day in Antibes with Christiane, beach time and museum time - Picasso - perfect.
• My homecoming in Massachusetts, with my brother and his family and my parents. It was nice to be home.
• Nearly two weeks in Easthampton, the guest of my friend Jeff in his summer house. Swimming, biking, kayaking, running, much meal preparation and sharing of meals with our neighbors. It was perfect.
• More beaching with my aunt and uncle at Bethany Beach, then a few days later in Norfolk, with Becky, Gabriel and Reuben. Chris and Kenny made the visit fun too.

September

• The graciousness of my hosts John and Gail, as I went through interviews and wondering if I woud get that job at Barclays.
• The sadness of two deaths - the mother of my friend Jennifer and the husband of my cousin Susan.
• My first day at Barclays - September 28th - a job that was only idea six weeks earlier.

October

• A 20th reunion with law school classmates at GWU. And a long walk on a beautiful fall afternoon along the Mall and the Potomac with Jeff.
• A weekend in Boylston with Eric, Jan and Ned. Jethro Tull - Ian Anderson - reminded me that the 70's was a long time ago...
• Moving my things from Washington to NYC in a UHaul truck. Bill was a completely enthusiastic coordinator and motivator for the truck packing; Jorge was my rock for the rainy ride north up the New Jersey Turnpike.

November

• My family and friends joining me for the Gala Dinner given by the Columbia Alumni Association for the Columbia Medal recipients. Barnard staff that had helped make my contributions possible over the past 10 years were also part of my table. Having my niece and nephew to bridge the generations was lovely.
• Welcoming friend Priscilla to my NYC apartment for a few days and having her hear me sing with the New Amsterdam Singers and meet my friends before she headed south for the Thanksgiving holiday.
• Celebrating Thanksgiving with family (after a year's absence) at Bethany Beach - and having everyone come to the 5K race that Saturday afterward - if not running or walking - then there, cheering all of us on.

December

• Catching up with former consulting colleagues at a midtown bar, and then enjoying Korean Barbecue in Koreatown, continuing the reconnecting I have been doing in Manhattan since I returned in September.
• A weekend of NAS concerts, attended by many friends and family - including Eric, Ned, David, Cathy and Roland, Alex and Chrissy, Caroline and Pat, Mom and Dad, Chelsea, Jeff, and Arthur.
• A meaningful memorial service for Jennifer's mom in Amherst, and special time with Jen, Barry, Teddy and Nicole.
• Christmas in Amherst and Boylston - celebrating the holiday with those that I love.