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No, the playground is not giving away free furniture in the form of “hard couches.” This is called a park bench. It is not meant to go in your living room upon return to homeport, nor to replace your rack (what the land-bound likely refer to as a “bed”) after a long night ashore. Leave it where it sits, please.

Also, please take note of the alternate form of tree reintroduced here, in order more quickly to further your reintegration into the general populace.

Today’s cartoon is meant to simply identify that small metal protrusion on the corner. It’s a fire hydrant. It’s not a stool for fairies or a mountain ground down to a nub or any other such similar fanciful item. Just a fire hydrant. Consider yourself informed.

Let’s not be silly, children. They’re only streetlamps, of course, mammoth metal trees with tiny suns caught in their lone slender branches. 

Look for your next helpful lesson on Thursday!

Which is something like a hat, but for that it is carried and, unlike some chapeaux and its frillier but no less deadly cousin the parasol, is impermeable.

…I created a series of informative and helpful diagrams, a baker’s dozen in total. They were produced throughout the month of January and I’ll share them here over the course of the next few weeks.

Without further delay, I am proud to present the first of thirteen useful tools to aid anyone who has spent too many days away from dry land.

J: Could you possibly think of a more boring topic than Wisconsin in winter? Nothing but cold and snow and dark, right? But even though those descriptions certainly fit Robert Goolrick’s A Reliable Wife, I promise, you will be entertained—if not driven slightly mad.

B: Madness being the key phrase, this book was dark and cold — it’s an enticing read, and it takes you to the places in your mind that you might not like to go. The characters are too real, too identifiable, you know that you’re like them– even though you try so hard not to be.

J: Reading this book is like falling into a deep well of sex-laced insanity. It’s one of the only books we’ve read that I’ve lost sleep over—I stayed up all hours reading, stopping only when my brain shut itself down in protest!

B: I lost sleep even after finishing the book. It sticks with you like a shadow.

J: Hopefully, Ben, you didn’t feel the need to compare the wife in this book to me?

B: I don’t really know what arsenic tastes like, Jaci. Also, which wife?

J: Some might argue that it’s too over-the-top—a palazzo? Poison? Murder? Lies? But, having grown up in the big, empty plains, I’m glad that Goolrick finally gave this part of the country the big operatic story the landscape cries out for.

B: I agree that this story only works in the setting that it does; in a place where raw humanity is not suppressed by culture or society; but is also not allowed to devolve to wildness.

J: I don’t want to give away the ending, but I do want to urge you to read this book. Especially if you think a winter in Wisconsin is boring. He’ll change your mind.

B: Oracle of Stamboul by Michael David Lukas is an absolute must read. How’s that for a review? Jaci and I didn’t even realize that it might be a  young adults book until the very end; but then again, it was so engrossing it only took us a few hours to go from cover to cover; and the simple language conveyed a rich story and complex topics– and to me, those are the best kind of books; very much like Stienbeck’s Grapes of Wrath.

J: I’m still not sure that it’s actually intended for children—I think it’s just one of those books that could be enjoyed equally by children and adults. It is sold among other popular new releases in the bookstore. But I agree with Ben. Regardless of Lukas’s intended audience, it’s an entrancing novel.

B: I’m still wondering about the title a bit; Eleanora Cohen– a Jewess from Constanta that gets sucked into the politics of the Caliphate in Stamboul– is definitely not the traditional Oracle that we think of (I told you it was a complex topic!). Of course, we only usually think of one Oracle- and the lady from Delphi might protest. After all, the only requirement for an oracle might be wisdom, not necessarily prophesy. I think the most interesting thing about Eleanora is that she is wise, but also naivè — she is a child after all.

J: I liked Eleanora because she is a reader! What I’m not sure about is if the books she reads in the novel—a series called The Hours—are real, or if Lukas imagined them. Really, I read so quickly that I didn’t bother to check, nor did I do any research into what a hoopoe (a type of bird that follows Elenora around) might look like.

B: For the record, this is a hoopoe:

B: You’re going to need that image in your head for this book, I promise. It changes the book a lot if you know what these things look like, and how crazy it would be to see a flock of them swinging around some little girl.

J: I wish I had seen that photo earlier!

B: This book was so entertaining; the historical perspective was right on– at least from my limited knowledge of the euro-asian sultanates of the 19th century– there was intrigue, a bit of romance (heartbreak to be sure), and extraordinary events. The visual imagery was also excellent, and my imagination was thrown into full gear. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed it!

J: After this novel, we went a completely different direction and read A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick. But that’s for another post!

We just finished our first marathon!

As soon as we crossed the start line, a wave of giddiness washed over me. I was running a marathon! Energy levels were high, the air was brisk, adrenaline was pumping, people were cheering, it was hard NOT to be giddy and excited. Remembering our yoga lessons from the day before, Ben and I started slow, working to wake up our legs and get into a gentle, steady rhythm. Before we knew it, 4 miles had gone by, and we found ourselves running across Roslyn Bridge and into Georgetown. We hadn’t had too many spectators between miles 1 and 4, but Georgetown was awash with people cheering, playing music, etc. The only downside was that this was one of the sections where the course double-backed, so you could see the hard-core runners sprinting back on the other side, which served as a painful reminder that they were so much faster than you, and would finish so much earlier than you.The morning of our marathon we woke up bright and early for a 5:30 am breakfast of bagels and coffee, and then were quickly out the door for a warm-up jog to the metro. Luckily we had a straight shot to Pentagon City on the yellow line, which took us less than 15 minutes. However, we were not prepared for the mass of humanity waiting to exit the metro at our final destination, and it took us another 20 minutes just to get ourselves off the platform, up the escalators, through the exit turnstiles, and out the door of the metro station. We followed the throng of thousands for a mile walk to Runner’s Village, where we watched the Osprey flyover and tandem jump while waiting in a crowd to get through “security,” a half-assed and entirely unneccessary “bag search” that created an annoying traffic jam without really enhancing security in any meaningful way. By the time we got into the Runner’s Village, it was 7:30, only half an hour till the start of the race, and we still had to check bags and wait in the long port-o-potty lines to do some very important business before the race! We decided that two of us would save spots in the bathroom lines, while two ran to check our bags. Taking off our warm clothing was not so much fun, as it was a very nippy morning, but we did and dutifully waited in line while standing in a huddle to keep the wind off us. By the time all 4 of us had finished with the port-o-potty, it was 7:55, five minutes to start! We quickly jogged the 1/4 mile from Runner’s Village to the start line and found our pace corals just as the clock hit 8 and the first runners took off. It took Ben and I another 12 minutes to cross the start line, and then, we were off!!!!

It was between miles 5 and 8 that I began paying attention to other runners. There were certainly a good deal of people in costumes, being that the race was the day before Halloween. Some were dressed as superheros, which worked well with athletic clothing. Others wore costumes that looked tremendously bulky and uncomfortable, including one dressed as a rubber whoopy cushion, and one dressed as Uncle Sam, beard and hat and all. Other runners were carrying random objects, including an oar for rowing. I’m sure these objects held some symbolic significance, I just didn’t ask. And then you had the marines, running with their heavy boots (which I’ve heard are uncomfortable), and 35 pound packs on their backs. Andy said he even saw a marine running with another marine on his back. He didn’t know if they were alternating or if the runner had to carry the other for the whole 26.2 miles. If it was the latter, I’m sure it sucked for both the carrier AND the carryee. In any case, I’ll take a sidebar to note that all the marines present at the MCM, both the runners and volunteers, were super professional, friendly, and impressive people. It was a joy to experience, and I certainly wish everyone in the U.S. armed forces were such exemplar representatives of their country and service, but I know sadly that is not the case.

Between miles 8 and 9 we had finished our northern loop and were running back through Georgetown. Ben and I were still in high spirits and goofing off. At mile marker 9, I gave my phone to Ben to snap a picture of me cheesing in front of the sign with two marines behind so I could tweet it. As you can tell, we were absolutely totally serious hardcore runners. As I was cheesing with my peace signs, I heard someone shout my name. It turned out to be my colleague Patrick, who was also running and only noticed me because of my photo shenanigans. I mean really, who stops to take pictures in the middle of a race? We said hello, and then continued at our separate paces (Ben and I were a bit faster than my colleague). We continued our run south towards the Lincoln Memorial, and that’s when the mob of spectators quadrupled! As we were bending around Ohio Drive in front of the Lincoln Memorial, the space for runners narrowed as the crowd pressed in on the road to cheer us on. I could have stretched out my hands and given high-fives to the spectators on both sides of the path, that’s how close they were pressing in. If they hadn’t been cheering and waving and smiling, it would have been quite suffocating and ominous, but the mood was overwhelmingly exuberant so I don’t think any runners minded the crush.

We had just passed mile ten when I felt it… a sharp pain up my knee. An expletive immediately came to mind, but a few more strides and the pain subsided. However, it was a bad sign to have knee pain so early in the run. A short while later, Ben also admitted to having some ankle pains. We were not even half-way through the race… this was not good at all. Miles 11-13 Ben and I ran mostly in silence, listening to our joints, trying to assess what our bodies were telling us. Was that throb a warning that a muscle was about to tear? Those needle pricks a precursor to a sprain? Our fear was not that we’d injure ourselves, but that we would not be able to finish the race.

Luckily, I had extra-strength advil in my pocket, one for me, one for Ben. As soon as we crossed mile 13, we popped them in, and hoped for the best as we continued along. The trouble with my knee pain was that it hurt the most if I stopped or slowed, and then re-started. So from mile 13 on, I couldn’t slow down for water or snack breaks. Ben, being the good big brother he is, would go off to the side and grab water and snacks for two while I trotted on ahead steadily, and then he would pick up the pace to catch up with me and hand me a cup and food, which I would down while still maintaining a steady pace. He did that for every water and food break for most of the remainder of the race, which of course put him at a disadvantage in terms of maintaining his strength and energy. Thanks Ben!

Andy found us at mile 15, and mostly stayed with us on his bike as we ran around the mall, past the museums, toward the Capitol. He had his camera, and was snapping away, until mile 19, when we were just doubling back from the Capitol, he tried to take a video and discovered there was no memory card in his camera! All this time he had been taking photos, none of the photos had been saved. A pity, but there were of course photos available to purchase. from mile 15 to 20, things went fairly steadily for Ben and I, although Ben had to exert more energy and speed for all the snacks and water he was bringing to me. All that extra effort finally took a toll on Ben between mile 20 and 21, just as we made it onto the Bridge back over to Virginia. His ankle and calves were hurting, and he had to stop and stretch. Unfortunately, I knew if I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to restart with my bum knee, and very apologetically abandoned Ben on the bridge. The bridge was the worst part of the run for me, not just because I was separated from my running partner. Mentally, you are rejoicing at the fact that you only have a 10k left to run, but also cursing the fact that you still have a 10k to run. Plus, you are on a long concrete slab of a bridge, with only the concrete city of Roslyn looming ahead of you, not very emotionally inspiring. Plus, there were no spectators on the bridge, they’d been routed to a pedestrian path, which meant no cheering for motivation, and also meant I didn’t have Andy pedaling within sight to give some comfort. That was the longest mile of the run.

I finally got to the other side, but couldn’t find Andy. All I could do was steel myself and run the last five miles through Crystal City and back toward Roslyn by myself. I spent miles 21 through 23 reciting a mantra in my head to the rhythm of my feet slapping the pavement, “smooth and steady….smooth and steady.”

At mile 22 my stomach began gurgling. It didn’t feel so great. For a mile I debated whether I should stop and use a port-0-potty, or steel myself and finish the race. At mile 23 I noticed a band of port-o-potties with no one standing in line for them, and took it as a sign I should use the restroom now. I thanked the MCM gods that I had paid attention at the First Timers Pep Rally and brought along a “poopy pack” (extra tissues), because there was indeed no toilet paper left in the stall. My knee was not happy at having to start up again after that break, but I pushed through the initial pain and got back into rhythm for the last 3.2 miles. “smooth and steady….smooth and steady.” Finally, after what seemed like ages, I got to mile 25, the point of no return. As I was passing under a bridge, I heard someone yell my name from the other side of the road. Andy had found me! He had been looking for me since he was detoured at the bridge. The last full mile was a straight long road, which allowed Andy to bike beside me on the other side of the grassy meridian. I had mixed feelings about his presence, glad that he was there, self-conscious about my running speed. I wasn’t about to slow down to a walk, but his presence ensured that I’d keep my pace as fast as I could. Finally, mile 26 arrived, .2 more!! I pushed up a final hill, a bend, surrounded by swarms of people, lost Andy, and finally, the finish line! I jumped across the finish line, too elated to even look at the time on the clock.

And then I was stuck. The finishing pen was PACKED. I couldn’t move. I was shoulder to shoulder with others who had spent the last 4.5 hours running, only to find themselves at a stand still in a crowd with no space to cool down or stretch. Everyone at least was in good spirits after finishing, but I felt bewildered and lost. Another crowd again. How would I find Ben? I was the only one who had a phone. How long till I could see Andy? He had disappeared in the crowd outside the finishers coral. The reason for the logjam was that a row of marines were personally putting medals around the necks of every finisher and shaking his/her hand. A very nice touch, but slow-going when there are 30,000 runners. I got past the initial logjam, and found a cinder block to stand on as I waited and scanned for Ben inside the finishers coral. Every passing minute made me worry whether Ben’s injuries had been so bad that he couldn’t finish, but in less than ten minutes I had found him coming up through the throng of finishers. We took some victory photos, got our gatorade and bananas, and finally found Andy.

And then we tried to get home. Andy had his bike, so he left us on that. Our initial plan was to take the metro, but it was too packed to even get inside the station. Then we saw a line for the bus, which we decided was also too long. The taxi line was longer. Our only course of action was to walk to a point where we could get on some sort of transportation. So, after having run 26.2 miles (on top of the 2 miles that it took for us to get to the start line), we walked another 1.5 miles over Roslyn Bridge and through Georgetown, where Mom and Dad came to get us. Thanks parents!

All in all, Ben and I covered about 30 miles on foot that day. Here’s to our next marathon in Las Vegas in December!

J: Ok, ok, so Ben and I have been neglecting our book reviews, I admit. The last book we wrote up was Saul and Patsy, way back in July. But we’ve still been reading! Stranger in a Strange Land, A Changed Man, Spies of the Balkans, and A Discovery of Witches entertained us in tandem in the time between then and now. We also had our first book club failure (both of us became busy and couldn’t get into Suite Francaise—but we’ll make it up later!) and read our first short story (“The Adjustment Team,” chosen for Ben’s marathon week). So, in an effort to catch up our meager band of followers, I propose we do four mini-reviews, and knock out those four novels here and now.

B: Agreed, but just so you know, this post then encompasses some of my favorites–especially Spies of the Balkans; I can’t recommend it enough! I would also like to add my apologies for not getting posts up sooner; but rest assured, we’re still trucking through the book club, one book at a time; even if we can’t write about them. I blame new houses, new commutes, and new job situations for the delays!

J: New jobs, at least, in my case. But enough preamble. First up: Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein. This was a reread for me, so I’ll let Ben give his take first. B?

B: I’m not sure I grokked this story. Also, apparently grokked is in the spell check dictionary- that just says how important Stranger is in popular culture! In 1976, the Viking program was launched to send unmanned probes to Mars; during the Viking mission and subsequent missions afterward, we learned that there is no identifiably sentient life on Mars. So from that understanding, it was actually kind of tough to read Heinlein’s 1961 novel about a race of Martians, one of whom returns to Earth. That was the easy bit to get past, though, because once on Earth, said Martian pursues a social and religious agenda that is mind boggling and cult-like with many sexual and pagan ideas interwoven. Fitting these two strange stories together was actually kind of a headache.

J: I’ve only read two Heinlein novels—this, and Time Enough for Love—and it was strange to reread it, especially knowing Ben was reading it to and trying to guess at his reaction. There are some fairly shocking views on women, but at the same time I like his no-nonsense approach to human relationships (even if it’s not entirely realistic). And strangely, I had forgotten the climax, and was surprised a second time over.

B: After our science fiction interlude, we moved back to more contemporary social issues, namely reformed neo-nazis trying to redeem themselves by assisting with Jewish run peace and aid foundations; we read a second Francine Prose novel; A Changed Man.

J: I wanted to read another Prose novel since we were both so fascinated by Blue Angel. I feel like I really need to study Prose’s writing because she does tension so well. I hate conflict in my real life and have a hard time introducing it in my stories. She heaps it on. And her novels are driven by conflict, and made compelling to read because of it. My only complaint: I would have cut the final chapter.

B: I didn’t really identify with any of the characters in this book; and to tell you the truth, most of them really angered me- but you know what they say in the WWF; you’re either loved or hated, you don’t want to be in between! It was interesting to see the collision of three different classes, though- Norman from the poor or working class, Bonnie firmly in the middle class, and the disgustingly rich, and somehow guilty-about-it Meyer Maslow.

J: I agree—she fills her books with only marginally likeable people and somehow, it still works. Then we went to one of Ben’s choices: Spies of the Balkans, by Alan Furst. He’s been waiting to read this one for a while; it was on the list for our last bookclub before I knew I would be getting home early. It was a bit of an awkward read for me—a strange mix of historical novel and thriller.

B: A spy novel during World War II in Greece, Macedonia, Southern France, Paris, Turkey! It was exciting, dark, thrilling, and excellent. I can’t wait to go back and read more Furst! I also don’t want to say much here, because as with any good spy thriller– you want to be surprised, and I can’t give anything away. But it was a good book, and you should go read it- now.

J: I was a little more lukewarm on this one—but it was good nonetheless. I probably won’t be joining Ben on his historical thriller bent, though.

B: Last up on our list of catch-up review books, A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness.

J: Twilight for grown-ups.

B: It always upsets me when evil things don’t do evil. If they don’t do evil, then it suggests that they are not, so why be so caught up in their evilness? Luckily the evil things in this book are pretty darn evil, and though it is a bit romance-y throughout the book, Harkness could be setting up an epic cross-history battle; after all she teaches college-level history and history of science; so she knows her stuff! The bad news- it’s the first, and currently the only, book of a trilogy, so be prepared to have to wait to find out the ending. Also, since the beginning of the novel was set in Oxford, and included many of Jaci and I’s old haunts; it was nice to be a bit nostalgic.

J: Twilight for grown-ups, set in Oxford, then. And there you have it: July through October in books. We’ll review “The Adjustment Team” by Philip K. Dick in a separate post; I think it would be interesting to watch the movie based on it (The Adjustment Bureau, 2011) again after reading the source and look at how the concept was adapted, but that might take some doing, logistically, if it’s even out on DVD yet.

B: On to Oracle of Stamboul for our next book, and hopefully more timely posts, but we don’t guarantee it!

Waking up at 4:45 AM on a Sunday is hard enough– it’s even harder when you’re about to go outside to 42 degree, rainy weather just to run a half-marathon. But that’s how we found ourselves pulling up to a giant parking lot filled with busses- in order to run the second annual Woodrow Wilson Bridge Half Marathon from Mount Vernon to National Harbor, across the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. Once we got moving, however, we warmed up a bit, apparently,  because we all PR’d the race and set personal records for our half marathon times in general!

This race is a point to point race to take advantage of running over the Potomac River via the Woodrow Wilson bridge. We were all bussed out of overflow parking at National Harbor the full 14 miles to Mount Vernon where the race started in order to run back. This meant logistical complications, but somehow we met our number one goal- finding the shortest line at the port-a-potties. Because of the cold morning, race officials started handing out mylar blankets– which were nice, except that there were none left at the end of the race when I was well and truly cold!

Devi and I ran together for the most part- which leads to some interesting questions about our times. We both crossed the 5 and 10 mile splits at the same time, yet my time is 44 seconds slower than Devi’s? Devi did take off after the last 3/4 of a mile in order to beat 2 hours, so our finish times should be different, but not that different. In addition, as you can see, Devi’s chip time and gun time are corrected for the time it took us to cross the starting line, so are Lala and Kylee’s, but mine are not? For that reason, I’m going to place my time at 2:00:28, unfortunately still not under 2 hours, but a bit closer- and that is the time to beat next year!

Kylee and Lala also ran this race last year- and they both beat last year’s times. Because last year was the first annual Woodrow Wilson Bridge Half Marathon- I think they have to make this a thing and run it for the next 50 years!