In the Long Run

From my midtown Manhattan office on September 11, 2001, I watched a horrid simulcast unfold both on television and outside my office window.

My response was to run, because I needed to exhaust every muscle and bone in my body, so that sleep might be a possibility. I ran 15 miles—the Hudson River to my right, and to my left the massive smoke plumes in the distance—breathing because I could, running because they couldn't.

I discovered Jim Thorpe in 1998 when I read a mountain biking review, came up for a ride, and purchased a Stone Row home, partly as a respite from the city and partly as a place to relax in an absolutely stunning setting just two hours from New York City. I began training for my first marathon, and coming to Jim Thorpe for my long weekend runs.

The week following 9/11, as a neighbor and I were running to the Lehigh Gorge, a newspaper photographer took a picture of us—not a pretty run, but a run complete with gruesome facial expressions and intense musculature. I identified myself as a "Jim Thorpe resident"—not exactly the truth, but then I couldn't talk about living in New York City. I just wanted to run.

I soon discovered I was pregnant with my first child. While I was in the best shape of my life, which made for a healthy pregnancy, my marathon would become a marathon of labor in August 2002 resulting in the birth of my daughter, Skyler.

In April 2003, I decided to leave New York's corporate world and move to Jim Thorpe with my artist husband, Victor Stabin, and our nine-month-old daughter. When our second daughter, Arielle, was born, my running days became but a distant memory. I was now the mother of two small children, renovating a 15,000-square-foot building, and opening the Stabin Morykin Art Galleries and Flow restaurant.

Last February, I was sick for the entire month, gaining 20 pounds over my healthy weight. Somehow, in the fog of that illness, I had responded to a request to run in the spring to benefit the Special Olympics. May hit before I realized I had committed to run the Jim Thorpe Memorial Day 10K, replete with a run up the infamous North Street Hill.
I managed three training runs that month and pulled off a respectable finish in the 10K. I banged it out. As I rounded the Jim Thorpe monument for the final lap to the Jim Thorpe High School track, my passion for running rekindled with a vengeance.

After that race, I continued my running and rediscovered so much of what originally brought me to Carbon County—the beauty of a run on a summer day along the Weissport Canal surrounded by magical reflections, a shaded run up the Switchback around the Mauch Chunk Lake Park and up to Summit Hill encircled by dramatic vistas, a victorious run to the top of Flagstaff Mountain cheered on by a carful of onlookers, and the drama of a run along the winding splendor of the Lehigh Gorge.

I ran a 15K in the Race Street Run in Jim Thorpe and a 5K benefit along the Walnutport Canal—finally feeling confident enough to sign up for my bucket list item—a full marathon, the Steamtown Marathon.

I ran 35 to 45 miles a week, rejoicing with every increase in speed, distance and endurance. I was proud when my oldest daughter, Skyler, told friends, "My mommy is a runner."

My family greeted me as I crossed the Steamtown finish line, completing my first marathon in 4 hours, 3 minutes, and 47 seconds—within striking distance of qualifying for the Boston Marathon.

I was 20 pounds lighter and feeling healthier than I had in years. I also had rediscovered the beauty of where I lived.

I may have taken a nine-year detour, but what an incredible run it has been.

Joan Morykin

Writing while on Ambien

The recent Tiger Woods infidelity scandal has recently made me realize the strange side effects of taking Ambien. Reportedly, Woods would have "Ambien Sex", where he would take a sleeping pill and have wild sex and not remember anything the next day. I can attest to the validity of this on a certain level - not the sex part, but doing things that you have absolutely no memory of doing while under the influence of this powerful sleep aid. I have recently worked on writing my book and found that I had incorporated some strange riff about the Bernie Madoff scandal into the plot of my children's book about a little fish and his incredible adventures. It is unusable in the context of my story, but kind of fun nevertheless...

My Ambien Writing
He had been working with some hedge fund traders and come up with a number of impossibilities in their earnings calculations and was able to find no, no way, no way to verify that the high rate of returns being guaranteed by Bernie Madoff could be substantiated and real, Professor Pato likes the world to make sense and function in a logical, fractal way and none of Bernie’s statements bore any logic and a lack of logic is Professor Ploto’s nemesis. Therefore, he had invented a spectacular tool known as a daedal doodle to insert into Madoff Investments that would monitor the dysfunctional maths and calculate the cause of the illogical returns being made on behalf of investors. The Daedal Doodle is a cunning or ingeniously formed or working; skillful; artistic; ingenious doodle, which is to draw aimlessly. These two diametrically opposing things would be inserted into the Madoff investments in order to diffuse the conundrum.
“The Daedal Doodle is ready to be installed into the investment house and do its calculations and return the data I need to find if there is a logical reason for all this as it is impossible to legally make the profits Madoff claimed using the investment strategies that he claimed to use. The world must be neat and orderly. And the Oceanic Neptune Observatory had the means to find the red flags and stake them on the earth.
“Ino take the Daedal Doodle to New York City and deliver this to the lipstick building. Be sure it is installed on the 16th floor and we will await our results.” Professor Plotto stated. “You’ll need a small fishbowl for Henry to be planted in the office along with the daedal doodle.”
“Are you ready to report for duty Henry?”
“Yes Professor, I am ready to install the Daedal Doodle.” Henry called out as he saluted him.
Never did Ino make a swifter journey to New York City’s coast – even slipping through the Panama Canal to circumvent circumnavigating all of South America. Then they headed up past Mexcico and past Cuba, zipping up the Atlantic coast in record Sei Whale time. They were whizzing up the East River to
Plant the fish bowl with Henry and the Daedal Doodle right into Madoff Headquarters.
The Bait was set – and a delivery man took the fishbowl up to the 16th floor of the lipstick building, promptly placing the bowl on the desk of one of Madoff’s associates. Henry just had to swim around and around in the bowl and look very fishlike. He was being very successful with this then Bernie Madoff himself picked up the fish bowl and took it in to his inner sanctum and set it above his desk. The Daedal Doodle began to whir and whir and make bleeping noises as it scanned in the documents before it with a fish eye lense. The data was relayed back via satellite connection to Professor Plotto’s observatory for analysis. Professor Plotto immediately realized that this was a form of a Ponzi scheme and there were no calculations that he could run that would explain the rates and the consistency of the rates over such an extended period of time. There was an organization that invested in ocean research and did work to maintain healthy fish populations and aquatic environments. Professor Ploto got a great deal of his equipment grants from this foundation. He knew that they had invested heavily in Madoff Securities and he wanted to save them from almost uncertain bankruptcy. He must stop this and warn the Fish Academy Foundation immediately. Henry had to get a way to Times Square so that he could project the results the Daedal Doodle uncovered on the big screen and hopefully the Fish Academy foundation will be able to get enough warning to remove their funds from Madoff’s securities and continue to do their good work for the oceans.

Go, Jack Go. Children are Starving in Africa.

Today I told my six-year-old daughter to refocus her priorities and to stop whining and throwing tantrums about not liking her new shirt. We were minutes away from the arrival of the school bus and I was trying to get her to eat some breakfast and hoof it out the door. I was not in the mood to listen to the fashion rantings of a six-year-old. Then I proceeded to use the old "children are starving in Africa" theme that has been handed down for generations to children all across America.

I very distinctly remember my mother telling me the story of children in India and Africa, I must have been about the very same age as my daughter. She told me that children who didn't have any food had bloated bellies and that the only thing their mothers could give to them was water. She described the mothers going to a well and pulling ladles of water out to feed their little, bloated-belly babies. This sadly gentle, but vivid memory has stayed with me my entire life and it was told to me in the early 70s.

Fast forward 29 years. Today's tale of woe in the world that I related to Skyler was as follows:

"Children are starving in the middle of the desert living in tents with holes in them, they are starving and disease ridden. Their feet are rotting off and you only have a shirt that you don't like to be upset about."

Their "FEET ARE ROTTING OFF"? How did this far more overblown and graphical depiction of children starving blurt out of my mouth?

When our daughter Arielle was nearly two and Skyler was three, in December 2005, we took them to see Peter Jackson's King Kong rated PG-13. My husband has nearly a 50-year age gap on our youngest child and admittedly, we have paid little attention to the MPAA movie rating system. The PG was all we really paid attention to, not being totally hip to the real difference between PG" and PG-13**. Midway through the film, during a rather violent dinosaur fight, Arielle who had been facing the screen, sitting on Victor's lap, did a screaming, mid air pirouette and managed to do a complete 180 to directly face him. It was then we realized there might be something to this ratings system. However, as soon as the movie was over, both children insisted that they truly loved the film and wanted to see it again.

Fast forward three years, both girls absolutely love watching intense, action-driven television dramas and films. The most favorite being "24" which Arielle had re-titled, "Go, Jack Go!"

She can't wait until Monday nights to see this show stating days before, "When is 'Go, Jack Go" going to be on? I'm ready for some action!"

I'm not sure how many other parents allow their children to watch 24. It is late on a Monday, school night. It is violent. But it has been incorporated into a family tradition of sorts, part of the routine of the week. In our house, it comes directly on the heels of piano lessons. We have dinner, Daddy makes popcorn and we all settle down to watch "GO, JACK GO." The Children know that the people are actors, that is is not real life, and that they use Ketchup to make blood. 24 is an unquestionable fiction. The tooth fairy is real. Santa is real, and the Easter Bunny is real but 24 is pure fiction.

Mommy and Daddy know a little differently, having lived in NYC during 9/11 as well as the Bush administration's ministrations of torture techniques and Abu Ghraib. We'll just keep that information to ourselves as we all sit down to family fun night on Monday with a bowl of popcorn, two little girls snuggled beside us and wait for Jack Bauer to portray this fictional character in his fictional world that can only exist on television.

_______________________________
**"PG-13 rating is a sterner warning by the Rating Board to parents to determine whether their children under age 13 should view the motion picture, as some material might not be suited for them. A PG-13 motion picture may go beyond the PG rating in theme, violence, nudity, sensuality, language, adult activities or other elements, but does not reach the restricted R category. The theme of the motion picture by itself will not result in a rating greater than PG-13, although depictions of activities related to a mature theme may result in a restricted rating for the motion picture. Any drug use will initially require at least a PG-13 rating. More than brief nudity will require at least a PG-13 rating, but such nudity in a PG-13 rated motion picture generally will not be sexually oriented. There may be depictions of violence in a PG-13 movie, but generally not both realistic and extreme or persistent violence. A motion picture’s single use of one of the harsher sexually-derived words, though only as an expletive, initially requires at least a PG-13 rating. More than one such expletive requires an R rating, as must even one of those words used in a sexual context. The Rating Board nevertheless may rate such a motion picture PG-13 if, based on a special vote by a two-thirds majority, the Raters feel that most American parents would believe that a PG-13 rating is appropriate because of the context or manner in which the words are used or because the use of those words in the motion picture is inconspicuous."

"A PG-rated motion picture should be investigated by parents before they let their younger children attend. The PG rating indicates, in the view of the Rating Board, that parents may consider some material unsuitable for their children, and parents should make that decision.

The more mature themes in some PG-rated motion pictures may call for parental guidance. There may be some profanity and some depictions of violence or brief nudity. But these elements are not deemed so intense as to require that parents be strongly cautioned beyond the suggestion of parental guidance. There is no drug use content in a PG-rated motion picture.

iMAC iPOD iTunes: iMersed

Dropped my 5 1/2 month-old and 22-month old children Skyler and Arielle off at daycare today - scrambling as usuual just to get everyone out the door and am finding myself iMersed in finally loading the iPod my husband bought me for my birthday in March. I postphoned opening the box containing the iPOD because I knew that it would be a time-suck I really don't have at the moment.

I suddenly find myself importing my Sex Pistols: Live in Trondheim July 21, 1977 CD into iTunes before the import into the iPOD, having convinced myself I'm merely multi-tasking while the marmoleum floor is drying in the kitchen that I so aptly washed myself into a corner near the iMAC.

Contemporary Mom Caricature: Browsing through a Pottery Barn Catalog while Sid screams "God Save The Queen" from the Bose speakers attached to the iMAC, eating the South Beach Diet dessert, "Mocha Ricotta Creme."

Getting stoked for a run with the new iPOD. It might be a bit overwhelming, after all, I ran with the same "Creedence Clearwater Revival" cassette in my SONY Walkman for over two years -- that's running almost everyday while training for a marathon before I found out I was pregnant with Skyler in December 2001.

Odd inspiration for pulling the iPOD out of the box, the Sunday New York Times had a spoof of an image of the iPOD ad - play on the fuchsia background with the black silhouette wearing the white iPOD headphones. Except the image wasn't of a hip dancing chick sporting an iPOD, but the icon of the Abu Ghraib prison scandal wearing a black hood, standing on a box and attached to wires.

While I found this image to be both a chilling reminder of the screwed up situation we're in in Iraq, I also thought it was a brilliant iconographic statement. It also reminded me that I have this damn iPOD sitting in a box for months.

Here I am blogging for the first time in two years, loading my tunes and feeling oddly spiritual about this little piece of technology that's temporarily transporting me from present 2004 horror in IRAQ back to my more youthful and innocent days of listening the SeX Pistols, Prince's "Purple Rain", Lou Reed's "Walk on the Wild Side" - as the CD's piled up next to me will attest. They too sit on deck waiting to be loaded into the iMAC for their transformation into iPOD tunes - they time travel with me today. Today I am not a mother. I am not living in a world where George Bush is President. I am transported.