You go, girl. . .

I was out watching the annual ING Marathon at 7:30 this morning. The route from downtown Miami takes the runners right past the entrance to our street in Coconut Grove, so we routed our morning walk to be able to watch them run by. I marvel at the speed of the front runners, but I really relate to the slower ones who are out there just to prove to themselves that they can actually run 26.2 miles without dying in the process.

Watching them this morning I had a vivid memory of the first race I ever ran. I gave up smoking and took up running on my 50th birthday. By the end of the first year I could run a mile fairly easily but had never considered running in a race. That September, Spector/Anker Associates, our public relations firm, was handling the International Auto Show and someone came up with the brilliant idea of kicking off the show with a 10k foot race that started and ended at the Miami Beach Convention Center.

We got a local running club to organize the run and even got Don Shula, the coach of the Miami Dolphins at the time, to be our honorary race marshall. When the guys from the running club heard that I was a new runner, they insisted that I run in the race. I was frightened at the thought of runing 6.2 miles but I told myself I had a month to get ready and all I had to do was train.

With a few other things on my plate like handling all the pre-publicity for the show and taking care of other clients,, I never got further than 3 miles on any morning run. I tried not to think about the fact that the race was more than twice as long. The wife of a friend of ours was also running in the race. The fact that Jen was in her early 30's, and 20 years younger than me, bothered me a bit, but it was her first race also and at least it was someone who wasn't going to run away from me at the starting gun. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was blazing, and the route took us down through South Beach and back again. As we started out, my clearest memory of the moment is of my two year old grandson (yeah, that was you, Adam) sitting on his grandfather's shoulders, waving to me as I ran by. That was the last good moment I had.

By 4 miles into the race, the sweat was poring down and I was sure I was going to die. What kept me going was that every time I looked at Jen, I would say to myself, "you will not let her run away from you just because she's 30 and you're 50. You will keep running even if it kills you." Jen actually finished the race a minute or two ahead of me. I made a triumphant, if exhausted , finish accompanied by all the members of the Runner's Club who came out to escort me in.

You are not going to believe this, but I actually won lst place in the Women's 50 and over category..Admittedly, I was the only one running in that category that day, but I still have the trophy sitting proudly on my shelf. The best part was Jen's comment as we relaxed in the hot tub on our patio after the race. She told me the only thing that kept her running was watching me and thinking to herself "if that old lady can keep running, damnit, I'm not going to quit."


We ran in lots of races after that, and I still have the tee-shirts to prove it. My running days have slowed down to a brisk walk, but watching the guys and especially the girls at the back of the pack this morning, really took me back. Believe me, I know just how they felt. Totally exhausted but totally determined. Try it some time. Makes for great memories.
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Photo caption: Thumbs up, after a successful race, circa 1981.

Living large on someone else's dime!

If you wonder why I don't retire already, it's because I love my business. For the past 53 years here in Miami, it has taken me to some fabulous places from Havana, Cuba in the early days, to Italy and Spain during my time with the tile and stone industry. Yesterday, it took me to West Palm Beach to the Rybovich Dock Yards, where I warily climbed a metal ladder to board the "My Max", a 113 ft. luxury yacht. I say warily because I was carrying my briefcase in one hand and my handbag in the other, leaving me precious little to grab on to as the ladder and I swayed in the stiff breeze. Needless to say, I made it to the deck safely, so let me tell you why I was there.

Possibly you are familiar with the Simon Company shopping malls around the country. So far, I've had the pleasure (financially and otherwise) of writing the copy for brochures on Mr. & Mrs. Simon's personal properties including a former 162 ft. motor yacht named Te Manu, their estate, Greystone, on Red Mountain in Aspen, two of their three homes in Casa de Campo in the Dominican Republic, and most notably their main residence, Asherwood, in Indianapolis. . .that's the one with its own 18 hole and 9 hole golf courses serving as the back and side yard. I spent three days living there last year writing that one, but that's another story altogether.

Apparently, Mrs. Simon, recently widowed, has decided to sell "My Max', which is listed at a mere $11.5 million, and yesterday's assignment was to hurry up and write copy so the advertising agency can design and produce the brochure in time for the upcoming Miami Boat Show on Feb. 11th.

I left the house at 7:30am in order to arrive at the boatyard by 9:30, driving up I-95, my most disliked highway. I drive a little sportscar and the trucks seems to get ever larger on that road. Personally, I'm a Turnpike girl, but Mapquest refused to show me the closest exit to where I was going, so I submitted, not too happily, to their insistance on their way which was the highway.

The yacht, which was built in Italy in 2000,had recently been totally refitted. . God only knows why. . .but as usual, Mrs. Simon's taste level is superb, and the interior,very art deco in style, is absolutely stunning. I don't want to sound picky, but I think I liked the Te Manu's more classical decor better. Don't tell her I said so. I think that one cost around $80 million, so it deserved to be more gorgeous.

Although CJ Walker, the professional photographer I've worked with on each of these Simon assignments, was already on board shooting, I bring my trusty little Nikon CoolPix (you know, the one that Ashton Kutcher is always playing with on those tv commercials) and take my own photos so that when I get back to my office and start to write I can visually remember what I was trying to say in my chicken scratch notes. My photos won't win any awards, but they do the trick when it comes to remembering details.

I suggested to the ad agency that I wouild get a better "feel" of the yacht if it took me out for a sail. . preferably to some place far away. . .but so far, I'm stuck at the dock. My favorite part of this ship was what the captain called "the garage". ( See photo.) The entire back wall of the boat opened electronically to expose a 16 ft. tender and every kind of water toy you could think of, plus fishing equipment and scuba gear. I might even put on a bathing suit for this one.

As Benard and I often kid his friend Harvey, there's rich, very rich and very, very rich. In this case, I think you have to add several more verys. Even in today's economic recession. Oh well, it was a fun day. . . .now back to reality.
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Photo caption: The ship's "garage" and the best I could do to capture My Max in all its regal beauty.

Baby, It's Cold Out There. . .

Call me a wimp, but I got out my ski underwear and my wooly gloves yesterday. The thermometer on my balcony said 40 degrees, with a wind chill of god-knows what, at 7:30am as I got ready to go out for my morning walk. I've been living in South Florida since 1957. I may not sound like one, (apparently New York is forever in my vocal cords), but I'm a southerner in my bones, and man, it is cold out there.

You gotta love Floridians when the temperature drops below 70 degrees. Even the dogs are sporting sweaters. Last night I got into the elevator to go to my apartment with a woman holding a chihuawa wearing an elegant pink and white striped turtleneck. I commented on the sweater and the woman, in all seriousness, asked if I'd like to see her hat. She then proceeded to proudly plop a matching wool cap, topped by a large pink pompom, on its little head. I just wished I had my camera.

I spent years skiing all over the world and never minded the cold. Apparently my brain accepted the fact that skiing and cold go together along with three layers of clothing and hot chocolate, or better still, hot toddy at apres ski. But here in South Florida, it's a different story. I can't complain to my daughter because the weather's in the teens in Charlotte where she lives, and they are expecting snow, so she isn't exactly sympathetic.

According to the weatherman on TV this morning, it's going to get worse before it gets better. This weekend we'll be dipping down into the low 30's. I may have to add a fourth layer or possibly dig out my goggles and ski mask for Saturday morning's walk. I feel sorry for the events people putting on "Taste of The Grove" this weekend. It's a very popular annual outdoor event in the parks and streets of Coconut Grove. Not exactly picnic weather, I'm afraid.

Any one for a frozen paella or a Cuban coffee popsicle????
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Photo caption: Ginger, ready for the cold weather.
By the way, my faithful bloggers, we didn't win the Ultra Pet "Pet of the Month" contest, despite all your much appreciated votes. We were beaten out by a very worthwhile competitor . .Jasper, aka Tiny Tim. . .a three-legged rescue cat. Wasabi and Ginger, in a show of good sportsmanship, sent Jasper their congratulations. Ginger is still not too happy about losing. . .she gave the Ultra Pearls in her litter box an extra hard kick when she heard.