I know… I can’t stand “To Be Continued” either… I totally remember being like 10 or whatever and watching a very special episode of One Day at a Time on some weekend night, my parents out, RJ and I all alone in that big old house on Mohawk Road in Franklin Lakes…and Julie/Mackenzie Phillips ran away or got caught drinking or smoking the herb or having sex (I could make a Papa John joke here, but even I have standards...)…and I remember she slapped Bonnie Franklin across the face or Bonnie/Ms. Romano slapped Mackenzie and Barbara/Valerie Bertinelli began to bawl and that stalker/peeping Tom, Schneider was pretending to fix something and they all stared at one another dramatically as the big white chironed letters appeared below: To Be Continued…And RJ and I were so pissed! We had to wait a whole week to find out what Ms. Romano would do next…that blows! Well, at least you know that I was not holding back so that I could milk some extra ratings and advertising dollars during sweeps month…no…I just needed an intermission…and thus it continues…
Saturday, October 10th
Day 2, Part 2
Day 2, Part 2
The Manhattan Bridge…jeezuzgod…I don’t know what it was, truly…I mean, we were already hurting, you know…this was 15 miles in… thou
gh we were beginning to question the validity of the mileage…this felt a lot closer to 18 than 15…could these peppy Avon b*tches be lying to us? Messing with our minds? And even though we stopped after crossing into Brooklyn and re-hydrated and grabbed another pb&j on graham crackers and Lisa had passed out the Aleve, a little low-blood sugar malaise must have crept its way into our brains…because we all became quiet…and kind of confused. You know, most of our teammates were far enough ahead of us that we were unsure as to what point on the course they were...were they even ahead of us? Maybe they were actually behind us now…not a clue.
So it was still me and the Beard Sisters, Kathy, PJ, Kerri, Wendy and Teri at this point…and Mark’s sister, Kristen too…who I had only just learned at that point in
the Walk, was 8 weeks pregnant!!!! I would have been lying down on the road at mile marker 1 at 8 weeks in, I must say…what a champ. So, as we stepped onto the bridge, there was an Avon Walk volunteer on a bicycle and all he said was: “Stay single file and to right, there are a lot of bikers on the bridge…” …and as the words left his lips, a guy on a bike zipped passed us, coming off the ramp at no less than 50 miles an hour.
And so began the urban angst/mind-f%$!/hallucinatory segment of our journey…
I remember the subway car on the overpass all loud and crashing, at 5 minute intervals…rattling down the tracks above our heads and rattling our nerves along the way. Each time it passed, I felt like it frayed my will and fortitude… On top of that there was a succession of sadistic bikers speeding by us and yelling, gruff and angry “Move aside! Move aside!” And we would jump out of the way, our hearts racing…each time it shook us even deeper. Then there were scores of Hasidic men behind us, walking the bridge…and
they just pushed us aside to get by, we would almost be pressed up against the protective grating on the bridge to stay out of their reach. So if that doesn’t set the tone…
You know, we didn’t even bother trying to talk much…Lisa and I were side-by-side, Suse just ahead of us and PJ ahead of her, cell phone to her ear, though she did tell Suse, who tried asking her a question: “I’m in a bad way up here…” Kathy and Wendy and Teri had disappeared from sight, though for a while we could see Kath’s pink bandanna bouncing along…but they wanted to get off this bridge as much as we did…. Lisa tried to make me laugh as this big bearded Euro approached us by saying, “well at least Javier Bardem showed up…” And I so wanted to join in on the “spot the celeb twin” game…but my response was this: “I don’t know where I am…do you know where we are?...I don’t think we are ever going to get there…” And she told me afterwards that I also said: “I think Rob is coming to get me when we got off this bridge…”
But we descended…and soon we were back in Manhattan…on the Lower East Side at a rest stop next to some caged-in soccer field where a bunch of Brazilian guys were playing a game. And we sat for a minute and regained our wits…and the volunteers handed us each one of those little Dum Dum lollipops as we refilled our water bottles. And as I stood there, it seemed my knee wasn’t quite so tender (the Aleve, maybe??) and Teri and Lisa replaced their bandages and Kathy said: “Come on girls, let’s finish strong…” How could we not go on…and so we did…
And wouldn’t you know it…we were only half a mile from the Manhattan Bridge end-point when up in the distance, on the corner of Second Avenue and 1st Street at the Exxon station, we saw them….Margaret and Jill, cheering us on… "Go Jugheads! Go Jugheads!”…and they posted their traveling Team Jughead sign and we were blown away…I cried again, of course…because they were always there to
keep us going…how amazing, I mean, these ladies weren’t even Kath’s own sisters…yet there they were every time we needed them most...
And then Suse said something to me that summed it all up…that this whole experience is about being a sister to the women in your life. On our team alone there were four sets of sisters, and seven of the women were sisters-in-law… we were sistergirlfriends, too, Team Jughead, loving and
supporting one of our own…and then there were Margaret and Jill…like big sisters to all of us…truly, the big sister that would lay down in front of a bus for you…or drive around New York City stopping along your Walk route just so she could cheer you on.
Ok, I told myself…I can make it another 10 miles now. And I headed up Second Avenue with the Beard Sisters by my side.
“Hey Jugheads!” we heard from behind…and it was Kathy and the rest of our straggling posse and they had the most evil little grins on their faces…And Kathy says…
“What do you say at the next bar we see, we go in
and slam a beer before we keep going…”
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Music to my rattled eardrums…this is the kind of festivity I can get behind… the one thing that could bring us back to top form.
So apparently our legs felt better all of a sudden, because we practically skipped the next few blocks until we came upon the 12th Street Ale House...and it was exactly what you might picture, given the name. The room was kind of dark and there was only one guy sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender…and they seemed kind of surprised to see us. Kerri asked the guy how much nine Coronas would cost and he told her $27…Happy Hour! This was perfect timing on so many levels…she ordered them up, limes and all…and we cheered and chugged and
refreshed and rejuvenated. And the guy at the barstool shot photos of us as we toasted…Manhattan Bridge, a distant memory. Right before we headed out, only 15 minutes after entering, Kath said we should have a beer every three miles until we get to Randall’s Island…and I turned to Teri and Wendy and said: “I think we should have 10 beers here and then take a cab to Randall’s Island…”…which made us all crack up as though it was by far the funniest thing ever spoken…so maybe we were still a little punchy…
Let me tell you, my friends…I am no proponent of using booze to
gh we were beginning to question the validity of the mileage…this felt a lot closer to 18 than 15…could these peppy Avon b*tches be lying to us? Messing with our minds? And even though we stopped after crossing into Brooklyn and re-hydrated and grabbed another pb&j on graham crackers and Lisa had passed out the Aleve, a little low-blood sugar malaise must have crept its way into our brains…because we all became quiet…and kind of confused. You know, most of our teammates were far enough ahead of us that we were unsure as to what point on the course they were...were they even ahead of us? Maybe they were actually behind us now…not a clue.So it was still me and the Beard Sisters, Kathy, PJ, Kerri, Wendy and Teri at this point…and Mark’s sister, Kristen too…who I had only just learned at that point in
the Walk, was 8 weeks pregnant!!!! I would have been lying down on the road at mile marker 1 at 8 weeks in, I must say…what a champ. So, as we stepped onto the bridge, there was an Avon Walk volunteer on a bicycle and all he said was: “Stay single file and to right, there are a lot of bikers on the bridge…” …and as the words left his lips, a guy on a bike zipped passed us, coming off the ramp at no less than 50 miles an hour.And so began the urban angst/mind-f%$!/hallucinatory segment of our journey…
I remember the subway car on the overpass all loud and crashing, at 5 minute intervals…rattling down the tracks above our heads and rattling our nerves along the way. Each time it passed, I felt like it frayed my will and fortitude… On top of that there was a succession of sadistic bikers speeding by us and yelling, gruff and angry “Move aside! Move aside!” And we would jump out of the way, our hearts racing…each time it shook us even deeper. Then there were scores of Hasidic men behind us, walking the bridge…and
they just pushed us aside to get by, we would almost be pressed up against the protective grating on the bridge to stay out of their reach. So if that doesn’t set the tone…You know, we didn’t even bother trying to talk much…Lisa and I were side-by-side, Suse just ahead of us and PJ ahead of her, cell phone to her ear, though she did tell Suse, who tried asking her a question: “I’m in a bad way up here…” Kathy and Wendy and Teri had disappeared from sight, though for a while we could see Kath’s pink bandanna bouncing along…but they wanted to get off this bridge as much as we did…. Lisa tried to make me laugh as this big bearded Euro approached us by saying, “well at least Javier Bardem showed up…” And I so wanted to join in on the “spot the celeb twin” game…but my response was this: “I don’t know where I am…do you know where we are?...I don’t think we are ever going to get there…” And she told me afterwards that I also said: “I think Rob is coming to get me when we got off this bridge…”
But we descended…and soon we were back in Manhattan…on the Lower East Side at a rest stop next to some caged-in soccer field where a bunch of Brazilian guys were playing a game. And we sat for a minute and regained our wits…and the volunteers handed us each one of those little Dum Dum lollipops as we refilled our water bottles. And as I stood there, it seemed my knee wasn’t quite so tender (the Aleve, maybe??) and Teri and Lisa replaced their bandages and Kathy said: “Come on girls, let’s finish strong…” How could we not go on…and so we did…And wouldn’t you know it…we were only half a mile from the Manhattan Bridge end-point when up in the distance, on the corner of Second Avenue and 1st Street at the Exxon station, we saw them….Margaret and Jill, cheering us on… "Go Jugheads! Go Jugheads!”…and they posted their traveling Team Jughead sign and we were blown away…I cried again, of course…because they were always there to
keep us going…how amazing, I mean, these ladies weren’t even Kath’s own sisters…yet there they were every time we needed them most...And then Suse said something to me that summed it all up…that this whole experience is about being a sister to the women in your life. On our team alone there were four sets of sisters, and seven of the women were sisters-in-law… we were sistergirlfriends, too, Team Jughead, loving and
supporting one of our own…and then there were Margaret and Jill…like big sisters to all of us…truly, the big sister that would lay down in front of a bus for you…or drive around New York City stopping along your Walk route just so she could cheer you on.Ok, I told myself…I can make it another 10 miles now. And I headed up Second Avenue with the Beard Sisters by my side.
“Hey Jugheads!” we heard from behind…and it was Kathy and the rest of our straggling posse and they had the most evil little grins on their faces…And Kathy says…
“What do you say at the next bar we see, we go in
and slam a beer before we keep going…”Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Music to my rattled eardrums…this is the kind of festivity I can get behind… the one thing that could bring us back to top form.
So apparently our legs felt better all of a sudden, because we practically skipped the next few blocks until we came upon the 12th Street Ale House...and it was exactly what you might picture, given the name. The room was kind of dark and there was only one guy sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender…and they seemed kind of surprised to see us. Kerri asked the guy how much nine Coronas would cost and he told her $27…Happy Hour! This was perfect timing on so many levels…she ordered them up, limes and all…and we cheered and chugged and
refreshed and rejuvenated. And the guy at the barstool shot photos of us as we toasted…Manhattan Bridge, a distant memory. Right before we headed out, only 15 minutes after entering, Kath said we should have a beer every three miles until we get to Randall’s Island…and I turned to Teri and Wendy and said: “I think we should have 10 beers here and then take a cab to Randall’s Island…”…which made us all crack up as though it was by far the funniest thing ever spoken…so maybe we were still a little punchy…Let me tell you, my friends…I am no proponent of using booze to
solve your problems, but 12th Street Ale House and that communal Corona consumption will be forever in my Top 5 happiest beer moments in history (will tell you about the others another time…after a few beers…). So we headed back up Second Avenue with a spring in our step and an extra twinkle in our eyes…spirits so lifted. As we trudged forward I checked my watch…it was 4:30 p.m….we had less than two hours to get to Randall’s Island…
So let me fast forward past the next 60 blocks or so, beyond the moment that we met up with Margaret and Jill again, this time in front of a Greek Diner, our Jugheads sign hanging in the window…and beyond the 30 second debate we took up in the East 60’s over whether or not we should pound another beer at some place called O’Flaherty’s…and I won’t tell you about how we stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts/Baskin Robbins where the Beard Sisters and I partook of some Jamoca Almond Fudge and Pralines ‘n Cream and Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream. What happened after that is the most important part of the day…the moment where this Jugheads posse showed what we were made of…
With ice cream dripping down my wrist I ran to catch up with the others who were collected on the corner of 71st and First…a bevy of Avon volunteers surrounding them. And when I arrive
I hear them telling Kathy to get into their little shuttle van so they could drive us to Randall’s Island before darkness set in….What???? WTF? No way…we made it this far with the only Walker among the entire 5,000 who was still sporting signs of treatment…there was no way these b*tches were going to sweep us into their crappy little van.
“We aren’t getting in…” Kathy told them. Swiper, no swiping!
And against their will, the Avon volunteers in the sweep van had to let us go. It was 5:20 p.m….we had 55 minutes to be on the Randall’s Island Bridge or they would close us out. So…the quasi-jog/power walk foot race against time and traffic lights began up York Avenue. And we did it, our hearts racing, knees hurting, blisters bursting all the way to our turn off on East 84th Street.
East 84th Street and York Avenue…this is the street upon which my father grew up…this is where my grandmother lived…and she had succumbed to breast cancer before I was born. And as I pointed out #504 to the girls, there was a gust of wind – we all felt it – and I knew her spirit was there, cheering Team Jughead to the finish…All choked up, we sailed across the street to the East River Esplanade. It was 5:55…two more miles before the Randall’s Island bridge…we had to book it…so we did. Ok…well, we did lollygag for a minute as we discussed the Esplanade and how much it looked like the setting at which they
shot the Justin Timberlake comedy classic: “D*** in a Box”…so we had to fall over laughing about that for a few minutes (Hanukkah? a d*** in a box…Kwanzaa? a d*** in a box…. ) Sorry, as I write I am just cracking up…as Will would say: “That just never gets unfunny…”
So…we book it…and we come around the bend and we are starting to sprint…and we reach the bridge at 6:14 and 59 seconds…no lie. And guess what? We still had another ¾ of a mile to walk before we hit the finish line for this leg…this 26 mile leg…and our feet were screaming and our legs were buckling…but we went for it…
And as we rounded the bend towards the finish, who do you think was there cheering? Margaret and Jill, our honorary big sisters…with signs in hand, giving out roses…Mary and Sam and Helen and Kim and ADP and Susan and Dana and Jodi all there too…and our teammates
surrounded Kathy…all of us hugging and crying…We made it. The Jugheads all made it.
After our mini-celebration, we headed to the foot massage tent, exhaustion overtaking euphoria…and the only thing on my mind was....
Thirteen more miles tomorrow…Holy Mother of Jesus….
Coming soon…another very special episode...
Love you, Suz
So let me fast forward past the next 60 blocks or so, beyond the moment that we met up with Margaret and Jill again, this time in front of a Greek Diner, our Jugheads sign hanging in the window…and beyond the 30 second debate we took up in the East 60’s over whether or not we should pound another beer at some place called O’Flaherty’s…and I won’t tell you about how we stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts/Baskin Robbins where the Beard Sisters and I partook of some Jamoca Almond Fudge and Pralines ‘n Cream and Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream. What happened after that is the most important part of the day…the moment where this Jugheads posse showed what we were made of…
With ice cream dripping down my wrist I ran to catch up with the others who were collected on the corner of 71st and First…a bevy of Avon volunteers surrounding them. And when I arrive
I hear them telling Kathy to get into their little shuttle van so they could drive us to Randall’s Island before darkness set in….What???? WTF? No way…we made it this far with the only Walker among the entire 5,000 who was still sporting signs of treatment…there was no way these b*tches were going to sweep us into their crappy little van.“We aren’t getting in…” Kathy told them. Swiper, no swiping!
And against their will, the Avon volunteers in the sweep van had to let us go. It was 5:20 p.m….we had 55 minutes to be on the Randall’s Island Bridge or they would close us out. So…the quasi-jog/power walk foot race against time and traffic lights began up York Avenue. And we did it, our hearts racing, knees hurting, blisters bursting all the way to our turn off on East 84th Street.
East 84th Street and York Avenue…this is the street upon which my father grew up…this is where my grandmother lived…and she had succumbed to breast cancer before I was born. And as I pointed out #504 to the girls, there was a gust of wind – we all felt it – and I knew her spirit was there, cheering Team Jughead to the finish…All choked up, we sailed across the street to the East River Esplanade. It was 5:55…two more miles before the Randall’s Island bridge…we had to book it…so we did. Ok…well, we did lollygag for a minute as we discussed the Esplanade and how much it looked like the setting at which they
shot the Justin Timberlake comedy classic: “D*** in a Box”…so we had to fall over laughing about that for a few minutes (Hanukkah? a d*** in a box…Kwanzaa? a d*** in a box…. ) Sorry, as I write I am just cracking up…as Will would say: “That just never gets unfunny…”So…we book it…and we come around the bend and we are starting to sprint…and we reach the bridge at 6:14 and 59 seconds…no lie. And guess what? We still had another ¾ of a mile to walk before we hit the finish line for this leg…this 26 mile leg…and our feet were screaming and our legs were buckling…but we went for it…
And as we rounded the bend towards the finish, who do you think was there cheering? Margaret and Jill, our honorary big sisters…with signs in hand, giving out roses…Mary and Sam and Helen and Kim and ADP and Susan and Dana and Jodi all there too…and our teammates
surrounded Kathy…all of us hugging and crying…We made it. The Jugheads all made it.After our mini-celebration, we headed to the foot massage tent, exhaustion overtaking euphoria…and the only thing on my mind was....
Thirteen more miles tomorrow…Holy Mother of Jesus….
Coming soon…another very special episode...
Love you, Suz
PS Happy Birthday, TL....much love to you this weekend as you arrive at the "new 30"...xo
Photos
1. The traveling Team Jughead sign...the first sighting that morning at 5:45...
2. Peppy Helen, all chipper and fresh at mile 19 as we stragglers contemplate our options on the Manhattan Bridge....
3. Ok, it looks pretty in that shot...but notice the dumpster beneath...that's more like it....
4. My actual sightlines and vision as I cross the Manhattan Bridge...need beer...fast!
5. Kath with Margaret...Jughead cheering section and de facto Big Sis...
6. Kerri and Kathy...real sisters and BFF...
7. The Beard Sisters flank soul sister Helen and sisters-in-law Betsy and Ellen as we start out...
8. Susan, Wendy, Teri and Kath wrestle for the first beer two seconds in at 12th Street Ale House...9. Jughead stragglers and 12 Street Ale House posse...viva Corona!
10. Me...looking beastly after 16 miles...but couldn't be happier....
11. Avon swiper/sweep bus...we gave them our bras, but not our bods...
12. Team Jughead greets us as we hit the finish line at Randall's Island, just under the gun...
13. Team Jughead after 26...rumpled, spent, euphoric...only 13 miles left...ouch....
7 comments:
Suz - thanks for sharing - I JUST LOVE reading about your experience, and am literally 3 inches from my monitor reading with baited breath. I am so, so proud of all of you. Sorry I couldn't join Kelli and Kerry at the finish line, but believe me, I thought about, and prayed for all of you all throughout the day.
Lots of love to you,
Laura
And what is wrong with using booze to solve one’s problems?
You guys are amazing. Couldn' t wait to read part 2, and now I look forward to part 3. I am so impressed!!!
Thank you Suz!
So much fun to relive it this way!
May I suggest a PASTA restaurant next time???
xo annie
Another great post! Just the way I remembered the day. Way to go Jugheads!
xo suse
Suz,
I am having such a blast reliving our awesome weekend through your posts! You have captured every detail to perfection. Your memory is incredible and your ability to translate it into such an engrossing read is amazing. This is clearly the beginning of your forthcoming novel - "Jugheads Take Manhattan" - one that will no doubt later be turned into a series on HBO!
Can't wait for the next installment!
Lots of love,
Lisa
bras on a bus! that picture is great! xoxo
Post a Comment