Rhode Island Takes New York

We took our first 24 hours in New York at a slow pace. We arrived in Brooklyn shortly after noon and thought about lunch. Three of us wanted pizza but Mark wanted race fuel. No problem. There's a bagel store and a pizzeria within two blocks of our friends' house.

While Mark rested, Marty made phone calls to area colleagues and Harry and I read. Then it was off to the subway and on to Manhattan. Most subway rides can put you to sleep, but not this one. We had entertainment in our car, in the form of a raving pole dancer. This was one of the more creative uses of a subway pole I've seen. Normally, riders are hanging onto the pole for dear life as the subway hurtles through dark tunnels, grinds to a halt and then lurches forth once more. The pole dancer had plenty of room to do his thing though, complete with inappropriate commentary.

We delivered Mark to Madison Square Garden and went off in search of our daughter who was arriving by train from Phillie. The Gyro place we used to eat at all the time when we lived in New York was still serving up heaping Greek delights so we went in for some dinner before the races. I'm happy to report that the gyros are still an absolutely delicious mess--just like we remembered them. We've been eating imposter gyros for years. It was nice to be home.

The Garden is directly across the street from the building where I worked during my first years in New York, so I know this area well. It hasn't changed much at all. At 6pm on a Friday, thousands of people are scurrying from work, and since Penn Station sits right below Madison Square Garden, it's swirling with bodies streaming every which way. Your Alive Meter can't help but surge upwards.

We went inside, found our seats and watched the track and field events as they unfolded before us. One highlight was pole vaulting. Nothing thrills a crowd like this event, and the evening's vaulters didn't disappoint. An Aussie managed a personal best just under 20 feet. Wow.

The moment we were waiting for arrived. There's my lanky son, briefly in the spotlight, waiting to enter the track. There he is warming up with his competitors. On the starting line. Getting out in front. Leading for five laps. The pace seems very slow, although in truth, time has little meaning at this point. Around and around the banked track they run, Mark losing the lead, dropping back to fourth, fifth, then speeding up and passing runners. Around the final turn, Mark kicking and finishing third. I know he wanted to win but that he is happy with third place. I am so happy for him.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. There's much running and hurdling, jumping and throwing, but the meet's over for me. I enjoy visiting with the friends who've joined us. I watch as Mark joins a group of Columbia track athletes and sits with them in the stands. They will be his teammates next year. Maybe Mark will run the college 4x800 relay at Millrose 2010 wearing Columbia blue. He's already there.

Good things, as my mother-in-law says, good things.