Tag Archives: Dad

So I’m Running A Marathon

I haven’t always loved running. To be completely frank, I used to dread the thought of a running, but I think it’d be safe to say that I’ve fallen in love with lacing up my running shoes and escaping for an hour (or two).  Last March, I ran my first half marathon with my Mom and became instantly hooked to races. Not only do I love running races because I’m side by side (commiserating) with thousands of other runners, but because the electricity of the crowds really gets me going. My roommates, however, will say my favorite part is the medal at the end – I guess I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the bling at the end, too. Since that first half, I’ve run two more half marathons and four other smaller races.

As part of my 2016 New Year’s Resolutions, I made it my goal to qualify for the 2017 NYC Marathon via the 9+1 program. This program is a great way for NYRR Members to qualify for the race because it not only promotes the smaller NYRR races (9 races), but also encourages people to give back to the running community by volunteering (+1). With this goal in my mind, I knew that 2016 was all about getting into optimum marathon shape and staying injury-free. I had no intentions of running a marathon this year, but when one of my closest childhood friends texts me asking if I wanted to run the Marine Corps Marathon, I had to say “YES”.

Part of the reason I immediately said “YES” to running this marathon was due in part to the fact both my parents ran the Marine Corps Marathon 15 years ago. My parents started training for the 2001 MCM with a group of their close friend and eight year-old Meg would bike alongside them on their long runs, haul water, and cheer them from the sidewalk. This really sparked an insatiable passion for the sport at an early age. It would be an understatement to say that I’m so excited to make a “return” to the MCM and run in my parents footsteps. 

2016 is all about pushing my limits and running the Marine Corps Marathon is the perfect challenge.  Here’s to running my first 26.2, crushing my goals, and many ooh-rahs along the way.

Blogging Home

Let it be known that I am not one to be late for anything. If you know anything about me, I’m sure you are well aware that I am never less than fifteen minutes early for anything. I would be considered what you call “OCD” when it comes to getting anywhere.

Yesterday, however, I did the unthinkable.


Laugh all you want, but I promise that is the last time I ever leave two and half hours prior to my flight in Manhattan.

On the verge of tears

On the verge of tears

Nothing even begins to compare to that feeling in your stomach when everything turns to sh*t. The butterflies began when I walked downstairs at 3 o’clock to catch a cab to JFK. Unlike most days where I can just wave down a cab in 2.7 seconds flat (check out my holiday guide on catching a cab), it took 45 WHOLE MINUTES to get a cab to go the airport (and that was after the promise of a generous tip and a gleaming smile).  As soon as I hopped into the cab, the butterflies subsided, but only for a minute, before I realized that getting out of Manhattan was going to be anything but easy. I proceeded to sit in traffic the rest of the way to airport for the remaining two hours – the worst part wasn’t the traffic or the $62 spent on the taxi or the unbearable smell of halal in the cab, just knowing that I wasn’t going to make it on time was enough to make my emotionless self cry.

In the two hour cab ride, I drained my fully charged iPhone to a trifling 17% bombarding a multitude of people with phone calls, texts and snapchats – American Airlines, my parents, the hockey team, and best friends – you name it, I messaged them.

Goodbye NY

Goodbye NY

Once I arrived to the terminal, the water works started. It had finally settled in. I was not going home that night. I don’t know who was more upset – the woman who tried her best to decipher my words between sobs or me. I called my Dad and before I knew it I was booked on the last SEAT out of NYC to San Diego until Saturday (thanks Dad, you rock!). I headed back into the city on a bus, more upset than anything and grabbed a cab back downtown to my awesome friend, Tim’s, apartment. Before I exited the cab, the driver made his best effort to remind me how upset and stubborn I was and then proceed to tell me I had the attitude of a cow from Calcutta – say what? Hey! I’ll take that as a compliment, thankyouverymuch.

Once I got to Timmy’s I hopped out of the cab, my emotional and physical baggage in tow, and landed him the biggest hug he’s ever gotten. He mostly stood there, began chuckling to himself, and lugged all of my suitcases upstairs. Once again you’re such a rock star Tim! Atop of his three-story-walkup was my amazing “mini-me”, Menta, waiting arms wide-open, with the greatest hug and consoling words a girl could ask for.

After a night filled with Ukrainian pirogues, potato pancakes, white pizza, lots of jokes on behalf of the hockey team and snuggling on the couch with Menta, I felt a lot better. I think that’s when you know you’ve found some quality pals – they’ll pick you off the ground, but not before they poke some fun at you first.

Headed Home

Headed Home

Today, I was a planner. I left Tim’s at 11:45 and was at JFK at 12:15 – isn’t it funny how things work out? I had told the cab driver my misfortune the day earlier and all he could do was laugh and say in his heavy Pakistani accent, “I hope you make your flight so you can share your laughter with your family.” It took me all of 25 minutes to get through check in and security. As some readers already know, I am not the best of packers, but I did get both of my bags under the restriction – one weighed in at 47 and the other at 49 – can I get a medal for that? Once through security I found myself in the Admiral’s Club, nomming away on a grilled cheese and chocolate milk and writing my Sports Law paper that was due a couple hours later. Right before my flight I made my way down to the gate, and to my great surprise I had found one of my NYU friends Grady at the gate. A little less than 30 seconds on the plane, and I spotted my neighbor Emily who was traveling back from Madrid and another Scrippy. Seriously, HOW SMALL IS THIS WORLD GOING TO GET?

Anyways, I’m four hours into this flight, counting down the seconds till I get back home. Two hours, one minute and fifty three seconds. Fifty two. Fifty one. Fifty. You get the point.

Knowing my Dad, I am sure I’ll be getting my fair share of “I told you so’s” in the next couple of days, but there are many things I learned from this. First of all, my friends are awesome –I dare your friends to be cooler/more supportive/ understanding/ funnier/ compassionate/caring! From Katie and Alex putting up with my storage issues to Menta hearing all of my venting to Tim who let me crash and invade his bachelor’s pad – all four of them were such a huge support system in this huge mess (and on the daily). Second of all, I need to learn how to breathe. I’m usually pretty good at handling stress, but the stress of letting somebody down is probably the one thing that bothers me the most. The last and important thing I learned (from my Dad) is that the last mile is the most important one. Whether I’m running a marathon or trying to catch my flight back home, you better bet your bottom dollar that I will (for now on) make sure I am doing everything I can to make it happen – until I cross the finish line or get my California burrito.



Song of the week: “Crying on a Suitcase” – Casey James (How appropriate, right?)

This Might Be a New Record

Yikes! It feels like I’ve set a new record in terms of not writing in forever. My life has been a blur to say the least. My days seem to flow together with no real definite end or beginning to the day, to the point where I couldn’t even tell you what the date is. November has passed by in the blink of an eye and I cannot believe Thanksgiving is in a mere three days. The past few weeks have consisted of early wake ups, late nights, and enough work to make the inner-nerd in me cringe (and to think that I’m busy in-season).  I realized after looking at my blog that I a) Can cross something off my 20 list and b)  I never fully went into details about the Emory game so I feel it’s appropriate to blog about that today.

WE BEAT EMORY <—- That needed to be in all caps because that’s how I would tell you – I would be in your face and screaming it from the top of my lungs. Just going back and thinking about that moment makes me smile.

Going into the Emory game, our team knew we had our work cut out for us. The previous weekend in Chicago and St. Louis was rough on all of us to say the least. On the following Tuesday we lost  2-0 to Mt. St. Mary in a game we should have won, and then on Friday morning we tied Carnegie Mellon in a 0-0 draw that was extremely physical. I came back to recovery Saturday morning needing some TLC and a lot of ice after punching a ball out of the box (and taking out a forward) in the final seconds of overtime. The game Sunday just seemed to be a mounting situation, an almost impossible task.

So Much More Than Friends

So Much More Than Friends

Each of us knew that in order to even be consider for the NCAA selection bid we needed to beat Emory. It was one final push that could make or break us and to be honest I didn’t know how much “fight” we had left in us. For those who don’t follow NYU Women’s Soccer, Emory is always our big game of the year. Last year we lost to them 3-2 in over time and we have never beat them in our program’s history (they were 18-0 against NYU). Prior to our game, Emory was undefeated in both the regular season and in the UAA league for TWO YEARS. They had the longest active winning streak in all of Division III and were (at the time of our game) ranked number one in the country.

The night before Emory, my Dad flew into the city from Paris on the way home from a business trip. I was beyond excited for him to be in New York and to catch the biggest game of the year. After grabbing a quick bite to eat with him on Saturday night, I found my place between the covers and tried my hardest to get a good nights sleep. Though I got a solid amount of sleep, I unfortunately slept through two alarms, rushed out of my room, bee-lining straight towards Coles. As soon as I got there, I tried to grab my jerseys  but much to my dismay the Equipment Room had lost temporarily misplaced them so I headed down to the Trainers to get all taped up and cleared to play. After changing into some warm sweats, I grabbed a banana (yum) and gatorade, then hopped on the bus.IMG_5297

The air was much more brisk and the sky had settled into a grayish haze over Gaelic Park by the time warm-ups began. The sound of Lion King echoing throughout the stadium indicated it was time to get moving. The battle was about to begin. I had an “okay” warm-up which is usually pretty indicative of how I usually play in the game, which made me very nervous going up against the top ranked Emory. Without going into much detail, we played two very tight, scoreless halves and entered into overtime confident we could come out with the W. Our team kept composed, and unlike our opponents we didn’t panic because deep down we knew that we were going to win. That’s what separated us from Emory.

The first overtime began and ended quickly and the second period was well on it’s way to being over when Erin Ahmed slotted a ball into the back of the net. It was unreal. I think I went into shock and her goal didn’t really register into my head until much much later (during the blackout as a matter of fact). I ran past girls who had fallen to the ground, embarrassed by their loss to us – a dark horse in the UAA and jumped onto my teammates. Hugs were endless and I think I may have lost my voice in the celebration. Like I discussed in the previous post, we were told during our cool down that class was canceled the following day because of the impending hurricane but we didn’t care. It was just a perfect ending to one of the most grueling weeks of the season.

Couldn't Have Asked For a Better Weekend

Couldn’t Have Asked For a Better Weekend

So going back to my list, I’m crossing off #13: Break a Record. Though I didn’t individually break any of these records, our team broke one of the longest records in NYU history and I’m so proud to be a part of it. The more I move down my list and the more I set and reset goals for myself, the more I realize that it’s less about the individual accomplishments and more about the team. The team is the ultimate champion and we proved that that weekend.

We beat and shutout Emory. I’ll never get sick of saying that.

Father by Blood, Dad by Choice

Captain Eric Patten. If you don’t know that name now, you better know it by the end of this post. You may know him as a protector of freedom in our nation’s military, or even as the world’s biggest Facebook updater if you’re lucky enough to be his FB friend, but I know him more as my Dad. I’m incredibly lucky to call this man my father, and the world has been even luckier having to share him with me.

The World's Most Interesting Man

The World’s Most Interesting Man

I’m a Daddy’s Girl and proud. If you ask anyone who I’m closest with, their answer, nine times out of ten, will be my Dad. While living in New York, I call him almost twice a day and sometimes more to update him on everything in my life, ranging from what I ate for breakfast to landing my latest internship. He’s like a best friend to me, always knowing what to say and and always knowing how to cheer me up when I am down.  I owe everything to him, where I am now and what I will continue to do in the future.

He love his Mani/Pedi time

He love his Mani/Pedi time

As like most daughters, I share a special bond with my father (and his credit card).You could say my Dad and I are close, but that would be a humongous understatement – we’re thicker than thieves. You could say he spoils me, but that too would be an understatement – he pampers me with his love each and every single day. He’s been with me through the worst of times and through the best of times, always having my back when the going gets rough.

So True

So True

Anybody can be a father, but it takes a true man to be a Dad. He’s chosen to take an active role in my life, supporting me in each mountain I choose to climb. I can talk to him about everything and ask him any question, knowing that he’ll have the perfect solution to the most complex of problems because “he’s cool like that”. He’s suffered more than enough drama a guy should have to deal with in a lifetime, and has to live in a house with three crazy women; quite frankly, I don’t know how he’s done it.

Proud to be his

Proud to be his

In addition to being a great Dad, he’s served our country for over twenty-five years, a feat only a select few can own up to. He’s made my family and I proud in so many ways, words cannot even describe it. I could write out the list of accomplishments throughout his career, but even those could not attest to his character and essence as a great man.

One of Our Nation's Finest

One of Our Nation’s Finest

I am my father’s daughter through and through. Impeccable looks (ha!), type-A personalities, and unique mannerisms are just some of the things we share. We take the same sides on arguments, have a love for athletics and I would like to think that I share his passion for all things in life. He’s smart, selfless and loving; always striving to give those around him the best. I can only hope to be half as great as he is.

You Could Say We're Related

You Could Say We’re Related

My Dad has been my coach, both on the soccer field and in the game of life, teaching me more than my fair share of life lessons. He’s been my rock when I need something stable to hold on to, my lighthouse when I’m sailing into the dark, and a big teddy bear when I need some loving. He pushes me when I’m being lazy and holds me back when I’m being reckless. He inspires me on a daily basis – I cannot ask for more. He’s my father by blood, but the coolest Dad ever by choice – and there’s only one of those in the world.

Love Him to Death

Love Him to Death

Dad, thank you for everything you have done and everything you continue to do. Have a Happy Father’s Day, I love you.

Dad and his girls

Dad and his girls

 And to all the Dad’s out there, I hope you have a fantastic day as well!

Quote of the Day: My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.

– Clarence Budington Kelland