THIRTY HOURS IN A DAY . . .

Is what I needed yesterday. It was easily the longest, most surreal day I've had since taking the Bar exam, where you go into the Javits Center at 7:45 in the morning -- bleary-eyed, pumped full of adrenaline, caffeine, nicotine, and probably other things -- and come out at 5:00 in the evening -- bleary-eyed, blind-sided, and wondering where the day has gone and why people walking on the street look happy, as if there is no such thing as the Bar exam.

5:30 a.m.
Wakey-wakey! This is a farce, because I never actually went to sleep at all. After our pre-5K pasta dinner (which, in hindsight, really was just an excuse to get together for dinner, for who really needs a carbo-loading for a mere 5K, right?), I got home by 11pm, washed, changed, crawled into bed, and actually managed to fall asleep despite being nervous and excited for the run. That lasted for about an hour, at which point, I got up for my first pee of the night. Back to bed -- daydreaming, dozing, more being nervous and excited. The next hour, I got up to pee again. Back to bed, etc. etc. etc. The next hour, as I got up to pee again, something surfaced from the deep recesses of my memory. I remembered seeing road closure signs for highways heading into and out of Manhattan on the day of the race. This, of course, made me slightly panic, so of course I had to get online at like 2 in the morning, and research the road closures. I finally found the information I was looking for and forwarded it out to my fellow runners, and hauled my exhausted self back to bed. Repeat as above.

When my alarm went off, I literally rolled out of bed and onto the floor, kind of like the meatball in that song. I lay there for a few seconds, wondering "What have I gotten myself into? How am I going to run on 1.5 hours of sleep? Can I have coffee or will that make me want to poo at some inappropriate time?" Big sigh and trudge to the shower. I know I'm going to be gross and sweaty in mere hours, but if I'm not having coffee, I'm taking a cold shower to wake up.

6:30 a.m.
Pick up J2. Damn them, they even had breakfast! This is when I start craving a McDonald's sausage-egg-and-cheese on an English muffin meal. YUM. Instead, I settle for DYC's drug of choice: a Strawberry Cheesecake Balance Bar. He suggested that I self-administer two Balance Bars before the race, but I just didn't have the stomach for it . . . or the patience to sit there and chew through TWO dense-yet-chalky Bars. Ick.

7:30 a.m.
See my legal career flash before my eyes. At C's spurring -- yes, SPURRING -- I sidle my car past a barrier onto closed 68th Street to get to the elusive cheap parking garage to which DYC and Banana directed us. As we gleefully celebrate my totally illegal gesture, I look up and see a police officer approaching my car. My two thoughts: "I finally decide to get my ass in gear and run the Breast Cancer 5K, and I'm going to spend the morning in jail!" and "If she gives me a ticket or arrests me, C is paying the ticket or my bail." As it is, my groveling skills come in handy, and she lets me go with a "Just get out of here, then." Big whew, and a swing into the parking garage. We're set, and I'm still a free woman.

8:40 a.m.
We start lining up to run the 2003 Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. It is truly an amazing and overwhelming experience. We are surrounded by survivors, men and women wearing "In Celebration of" and "In Memory of" tags on the backs of their shirts, huge teams of coworkers and families who had joined efforts for this great cause. As the elite runners start first, DYC lifts me above his head so I can see, in front of us, the enormous sea of people, their heads bobbing up and down as they run forward as far as my eyes can see. There is no end. Hey, I might be a sucker, the slowest runner this side of the Mississippi, a novice 5K-er, but I will never be able to adequately express what it felt like to be one of the sea.

8:58 a.m.
We're off. I'm running. I'm RUNNING. I almost chuckle at myself because I can't believe it. And the best part is, I'm not tripping, I'm not flailing my arms, I'm not out of breath, and I can pace behind Banana. I'm right behind her through the first mile -- C and DYC are looooong gone -- and soon afterwards, we lose each other, but I keep running. Can you believe it? Hee, hee! I pace myself behind some other people I think I can keep up with, weaving in and out of traffic because to my surprise, I'm actually PASSING people -- will miracles never cease? -- grabbing some water here and there, and stopping to walk the first half of the third mile. I don't think I was tired, as much as I was simply bored with running. I was ready for breakfast!

38:11 minutes later
I cross the finish line, still running. In fact, I was so psyched to have actually DONE it, that I think I sprinted as fast as I could from the moment I laid eyes on the finish line. People must have thought I was insane. That was the best part. The worst part was, there was no C, DYC or Banana on the other side! I KNOW they finished before me, and I had expected that they would wait for me, but they were nowhere to be seen! However, I got over my disappointment quickly because I saw that they were giving away boxes of Smart Start cereal. Girl's got to eat, you know.

9:45 a.m.
We all finally find each other -- even now, I don't know how we didn't see each other -- and head out of the Park. I'm pooped. I'm sweaty. I'm still needing that sausage-egg-and-cheese sandwich, but . . . C, DYC and Banana head over to see M; the rest of us head home. We did it! See you there next year, when my knees have recuperated.

***

There wasn't quite enough time for a nap and lunch before I had to shower, change and head over to church for our 1:30 practice call. The rest of the afternoon was standard: church. But BOY, was I wiped out and starving. I dared not close my eyes during prayers for fear I'd fall asleep. I dared not sit down if given the option to stand for fear I'd never get back up. I dared not give into my coffee craving for fear it would wreak havoc on my empty stomach. So I endured until we sped out of church to make it to Joisey for the last NHF wedding of the year.

***

3:45 p.m.
We sped out of church so fast, we got to Joisey with time to spare. We stopped for coffee -- aahhhh, CALORIES. Then we roamed the depths of Joisey for a gas station. I can't believe we couldn't find a gas station in JOISEY. Jeez.

4:50 p.m.
Quick potty stop inside the Palisadeum, and we seated ourselves inside the ballroom, ready for the ceremony to start. Shoot, shoot, shoot the breeze. I mean, we are on Korean time here. You didn't really think they'd start promptly at 5pm, did you?!

The Ceremony
Was lovely. Awkward, but lovely nonetheless. However, any wedding is made worthwhile entertainment when you're sitting with JKA, Banana, C and DYC. With all the wide-eyed looks, the raised eyebrows, the whispered one-liners, the side nudges, the sly over-the-shoulder winks, the innocent grins, the I-must-look-at-my-lap-and-not-make-eye-contact-with-anyone-else-in-order-to-keep-my-composure moments . . . who needs a wedding? We are our own entertainment. Naughty. Where's the food?

The Cocktail Hour
It really was kind of sick, in hindsight, to have run a 5K Breast Cancer fundraiser in the morning, only to be making a beeline with Banana for the open bar at night, but it had to be done. Anything to dull the pain in my knees, and put calories in my stomach. The lines for the hot food were too long, so grains and barley became my nutrition for an hour. How sad, but tasty! Also, I deserve an Oscar for my performances at this time: holding coherent, full eye-contact, serious conversation with church deacons on the outside while buzzing loudly on the inside. I know my cheeks were rosy -- maybe they thought it was the warmth of the room . . .

The Reception
It was Korean buffet -- what more needs to be said? I didn't eat as much as I should have, but everyone else did, and it was plenty delish. The Korean dance music that started off the evening was . . . interesting. Banana and I require a shot of tequila (and other things) to get through the evening.

The rest of the night was fun, though. People we'd never thought we'd see dancing were tearing up the dance floor. Even DYC managed to keep the beat long enough to do 2 minutes of the Electric Slide, with Banana's close supervision, of course. The music got better, or inhibitions got looser -- whichever it was, it was good times. Props to J&S for a great party . . .

The Aftermath
Frankly, I fell asleep in the car on the way back to my car. Endless thanks to JKA for driving; else, imagine the disaster that might have been. Back in the church parking lot -- our carpooling staging area -- C and I chewed the fat some more before I decided enough was enough. My bladder and my pooped-out, verging-on-illness body demanded home, home, home. I suppose I washed up -- my contacts are in their case this morning, as they should be -- but really I was too tired to care. Who runs, then drinks, then dances that much in one 24-hour span, anyway? Silly me . . .

September's Debauchery
Check.
Must get ready for next month.