The Snow

is not so good for running.

Maybe it's for the best, though. I managed an out-and-back 11-mile bridge run before going to my parents' house.

Then, while I was there, I managed 2 more 10-mile runs and 3 1-hour biking sessions.

And now, just a lot of sitting on my butt.

I can feel it growing and the pains starting to come back.

If you run, things hurt. If you don't run, things hurt.

You can't win!

While doing my best at schmoozing at this conference (an art I have yet to master, unless a pained grimace and wildly shifting eyes count as aspects of successful schmoozing), I will try to run.

But, the half is looking better and better as I get more and more out-of-shape.

The icy sidewalks are curtailing any runs for today, or for the forseeable future. No 20-miler for me this week.

What to do?!

Worst Run in Memory

Just after mile 10, I cried.

A short, choking sobbing, it stopped quickly.

Then I started churning my legs again.

Not running because running implies a rhythm, something the whole excursion lacked.

Not enough food, bad sneakers, and a cold that had gotten into my sinuses overdetermined that I was going to have a bad run.

Sleeping well and hydrating is clearly not enough.

I don't want to talk much about this run, in fact. Every injury hurt, but not enough to stop. Every five minutes felt like fifteen.

I'm a whiner: when on a run with someone else, I'll often say "oh, I hurt" or "can't we stop?"

But I rarely mean it. Yesterday, I started seriously questioning why I put myself through these kind of runs.

"Why a marathon? Why not a half? Why have your back seizing, your nose spewing mucus, your foot aching and your quad growling menacingly?"

And then it got cold.


Isn't it supposed to be fun, at least in some sense?

Forcing myself not to turn off where I could have shortened the route, bullying myself into not calling a cab-seriously-I managed to finish off 20 or so horrible miles.

To wake up this morning to a requirement for antibiotics and a doctor mother doing the closest thing she gets to yelling. "I've told you, when you've been sick, that these long endurance runs will comprimise your immune system! What, you want to take MORE days off than you would have had to if you had just skipped yesterday?"

Right now, with the run fresh in my memory, that doesn't seem like the worst idea. Maybe I should rethink the marathon in February. A half sounds nice, doesn't it?

Red Hook!

Worthy of at least one exclamation point! If not two!!

Donning my underarmor core warmth shorts (thanks, Chestershire Cat!), my thick tights and a pair of warm-up pants, not to mention the long-sleeved shirt, thermal, two jackets, gloves and a hat, I was ready to go meet Gorges out in the snowy, icy weather.

Except I needed to use the bathroom. Which was harder than you might imagine, with that much spandex to contend with. Lesson learned: use the facilities BEFORE suiting up for a brisk winter run.

So suited up, I ran down Eastern Parkway to Union to Smith Street, where I met up with Gorgeous. Almost instantly, my jaw and chin went numb. This was the day I really missed the turtle neck cowl thingy I lost on my way to the cab for the marathon.

One of the things that's awesome about running in the icy snow is that you can claim that you are running slowly because of 'safety'.

Heh.

Gorgeous showed me some neat places in Red Hook, then I ran back to reality and students and exams.

But at least there was Red Hook!

I felt amazing during the entire 10+ mile run. Warm, cozy, happy, and relaxed.

Then the rest of the week arrived.....

Last Day of Classes!!!!!!!

"WHEEEEEE!!!!!!!" [sneeze] [sniffle] [sneeze] "WHEEEE!!!!!"

An interesting syncopation was going on in and around me. I was screaming in my head, interrupted by my nose. And the rain.

Because yes, Virginia, it was still raining.

But I couldn't let a little rain stop me! It being the last day of classes, I would have to bring comparatively little with me if I were to run to work: some clothes, a bit of lunch and some papers and my little computer.

So run to work I did.

This was the view from the bridge. There are benefits to being semi-crazy.

Due to the season, I can no longer enjoy the gaudy rainbow that is Manhattan over the bridge at sunrise: a lame (with an accent!) - lover's delight.

But watching New Jersey get illuminated isn't bad, either. No sunrise, as such, but some nice colors in the morning sky.

I know I was going pretty slowly: I kept having mucus issues and, let's face it, I was being a little bit lazy.

But it was a great way to start THE LAST DAY OF CLASSES, nonetheless!

Whee! [sneeze] [sniffle]

Was that Me Sneezing, or Was that the Sky?

"Seriously?!" The wind tunnel street on which I live was wind-tunneling away this morning, throwing the sheets of rain directly into the side of my face.

I shivered and sneezed, all at the same time. This was going to be fun!

The cold still hasn't gone away. But, Sunday is the first day of my running calendar. And it's bad form to miss the first run of the week! That would have you start the week already behind.

So I finished walking down the stairs. And sneeze again. And again. Booh.

"At least it's not super cold", I think to myself as I force myself to start running into the rain and wind on Eastern Parkway.

My absolute least favorite weather is cold rain. Blizzard on, as long as it doesn't turn to rain.

At least it wasn't super cold.

Amazingly, several people showed up to the run, despite the rain. Craft Beer, the Vivacious Redhead, Ivy League and Ponytail all braved the weather to come out. Craft Beer didn't surprise me because he does all those crazy mud runs.

Heck, I was surprised I was out!

The park was flooded. So we headed outside again, though we took the easier, counter-clockwise direction.

Finally, the rain died down a bit. I ran with Ponytail most of the time. It was good to see her: our schedules have not been overlapping at all. That seems to be the story with most peoples' schedules and mine, actually. I hope next semester will be better.

When you work most of the time and spend the rest doing crazy running stuff or reading, it's hard when you no longer see most of the people you used to do the running stuff with. There goes most of your social interaction for the year!

Turning onto Ocean, we pass this one man. I guess he didn't really like being passed. He started dogging us all down Ocean, just about 100 feet behind us. I could hear his heavy footfalls.

When we turned onto Flatbush, Ponytail said to go ahead. So I decide to catch Ivy League, who was way up ahead, dodging raindrops.

And here comes this same guy. Every time I speed up, he speeds up, too. But not to pass me: no, he just seems to want to run RIGHT NEXT TO ME. In fact, if I slow down a bit, which I tried as an experiment, he'd slow down, too.

And this kept up all the way up the hill. I supposed I could have gone faster and left him but I still had that cold, which I could feel in my lungs and legs. And I didn't want to race. So why in the heck was this guy trying to race me?

I met Ivy League near the top of the hill. Reaching him, I slowed down. And the heavy-footsteps dude slowed down, too. This was irritating me so much that, when we got to the top and around to GAP, I yelled "Let's do the second loop the other way around!"

Getting Ivy League's attention, Ivy League came to a halt and doubled back. Confident in his 'win', the heavy-footsteps dude continued on around to Prospect Park West. Whew! Finally rid of him.

Plus, by stopping, we got a chance to wish the Engineer good luck on his cross-country 15k! He stopped by GAP to say hi and to let us know that it wasn't some crazy stalker but, instead, him, that had been screaming at us from a car on Flatbush.

In fact, thankfully, we didn't do another loop of the park, at all. Craft Beer went home and the Vivacious Redhead and Ponytail did another half mile with us down Eastern Parkway before heading home.

Ivy League and I kept going, down Eastern Parkway, past the end of Lincoln, and a bit into East New York. With the wind in our faces and the miles we had already completed, I was really feeling the cold by now. I had that thickness and that tickling, back-of-the-throat feeling.

How do you describe how you feel when you are exercising with a cold? It's so unique, it's instantly recognizable but almost impossible to describe? Is it like pornography, where "you know it when you see it?"

Back up Eastern Parkway, to Lincoln, where we enjoyed a bit of a tailwind and some more driving rain. I left Ivy League to the rest of his run and raced home. About 10 miles.

Now to figure out how to get warm, so that I can start that grading!


Ah. The life of a rock star.

Stress Release

"I want to scream and jump up in the air and stretch all my muscles, all at once!" I shouted to myself walking down Eastern Parkway.

Then I started laughing at myself. Out loud. I had the semi-usual experience of people edging away from me on the greenway.

Nothing like seeming to be crazy for some mugging prevention!

Anyway, it was comparatively beautiful, comparatively warm and I was like a small child having been forced to sit still for too long.

So out the door I went.

The Vivacious Redhead was on fire yesterday! I know I was dehydrated because I wasn't able to drink water during much of the test I had taken that morning but she was really pushing it!

Around the park clockwise, including the Propect Park Southwest hill, we flew. I actually stopped talking up the hill, a feat that the Vivacious Redhead is sure to wish that she could accomplish more often! A bit under 7 but I'll take it.

Then back to run errands and to think, and discard the thought, about grading.

Finally, a birthday party. That was interesting and fun. Don't think I'll be elbow-rubbing with that crowd in the near future, so I had to take notes on clothes and make sure to eat a lot of food.

I want a disco chandelier. I saw one at the party mansion. It's been decided. That will be my goal in life.

At least for the near future.

Until I can elbow-rub with the well-to-do, or something.

Nothing Like some Bridges for some Brisk Running!

Ivy League persuaded me to go running with him in the afternoon yesterday. He did not persuade me to go all 16 miles with him but he did end up persuading me to go longer than I was planning.

Persuasive little bugger. He also persuaded me to take the subway in the freezing cold last night, insted of taking a car. I blame him for the continuance of my cold! The fact that I still have a cold today, on Important Test Day, is in NO WAY related to the fact that I walked around yesterday morning/afternoon in the cold, nor is it related to the fact that I was shivering in my apartment for most of the day, nor is it related to my run in freezing temperatures.

No. I've decided. It's all HIS fault. Otherwise, it would be my fault. And we can't have that, now can we?

Tense negotiations concerning route completed, Ivy League and I headed down New York Avenue. I go out pretty fast, trying to stretch my legs and warm up. Wisely, after a couple of miles, Ivy League mentions this and we slow down. I was happy about this later, as I didn't bring any water or gu and I didn't want to take any of his, as he was running much longer than I was supposed to.

Having more of a sugar crash on the Queensboro bridge would not have been pretty.

We jag onto Marcy, then follow it across Flushing, where it turns into Union. A left on 5th Street takes us down to the Williamsburg Bridge, the first of three bridges we'd cross. It's always psychologically harder to go across from Brooklyn first, when we are planning to come right back across. Going from Brooklyn is hard! Plus, the whole time, I am thinking about how much harder the bridge is on the way back from Manhattan.

But, we managit without too much pain. So off we go up north on Bedford. After a tiny kerfluffle in Williamsburg, we find where it intersects with Nassau and continue on Nassau until we reach McGuinness Avenue.

Not the nicest part of the run. We still have some miles to go but it is past the half-way point (for me, at least!) so I'm tired. And we are surrounded by fast-food joints and tire places. Plus, I can't look at Ivy League, as he is running in the traffic lane with the traffic flowing in his direction. There is a LOT of traffic on McGuinness!

Thankfully for my nerves, he takes to the sidewalk for at least part of this stretch.

Over the Pulaski Bridge we run. The temperature drops significantly. I wonder why this is: the Williamsburg Bridge is taller, and crosses the same body of water, yet the wind isn't nearly as bad as over the Pulaski or the Queensboro. And similarly for the Brooklyn or the Manhattan: they are all cold and windy but not to the same extent as their Queens kin. I had taken off my gloves and hat prior to the crossing. While we run over the bridge, my hands turn to icicles. Brrrrrr.

"If we were in the marathon, we'd be over half-way done!" I exclaimed near the end of the bridge. Ivy League says that there is still a marker up from the marathon, which I missed. Cool!

Up 11th we run, with the trucks and traffic. Here's where I've made a mis-calculation: I wanted to go 10 miles yesterday, or 12, max. Yet I thought, from the map, that we'd be able to get on the Queensboro from 11th.

Wrong. We end up running over 1/2 a mile to the east before being able to access the bridge. Oops! I need to remember this, as I am planning to use the Queensboro for hill practice in January.

Up onto the Queensboro. I'm ecstatic because of low blood sugar and the thought that I am almost done!

Ivy League is less ecstatic, knowing he still has to turn into the park while I trundle off to some nice hot tea at Starbucks.

Note: while I do not condone huge corporations in general, and do not like the quality of Starbucks coffee or its prices in particular, it is terribly convenient for meeting-up purposes to have this many Starbucks in the city. Knowing that I would have to wait for Ivy League at the end of the run and not wanting to schlep my office keys with me, I googled locations for Starbucks for each possible iteration of the proposed run. And, lo and behold, there were convenient meeting places for each!

Some fancy turning gets us onto 59th from the Queensboro and we get into the one really ugly part of the run. Other aspects might not have been asthetically pleasing but the route was great in that we had to stop very few times previously, considering we started running at about 3:00pm on a Friday. Our luck turns in Manhattan, however. 59th is miserable. Every light is a stop-and-shiver and the tourists with their packages and three-abreast and erratic walking is terrible in its awfulness. Their taxes might pay my salary but that doesn't stop me from complaining about them!

I leave Ivy League at the south-east corner of the park. I end up having to walk several times across the side of the park. The tourists are exacerbated by a fire on the other side of the street, causing the opposite sidewalk to be closed and gawkers to abound.

Finally make it to Starbucks and I settle in with Friday's crossword.

Yes, I said it. And no, I didn't buy it there. Knowing I'd be waiting for a bit, I stuffed the crossword into a pocket and my pen into my sportsbra before I left the house.

How's that for planning?

Nothing Like some Bridges for some Brisk Running!

Ivy League persuaded me to go running with him in the afternoon yesterday. He did not persuade me to go all 16 miles with him but he did end up persuading me to go longer than I was planning.

Persuasive little bugger. He also persuaded me to take the subway in the freezing cold last night, insted of taking a car. I blame him for the continuance of my cold! The fact that I still have a cold today, on Important Test Day, is in NO WAY related to the fact that I walked around yesterday morning/afternoon in the cold, nor is it related to the fact that I was shivering in my apartment for most of the day, nor is it related to my run in freezing temperatures.

No. I've decided. It's all HIS fault. Otherwise, it would be my fault. And we can't have that, now can we?

Tense negotiations concerning route completed, Ivy League and I headed down New York Avenue. I go out pretty fast, trying to stretch my legs and warm up. Wisely, after a couple of miles, Ivy League mentions this and we slow down. I was happy about this later, as I didn't bring any water or gu and I didn't want to take any of his, as he was running much longer than I was supposed to.

Having more of a sugar crash on the Queensboro bridge would not have been pretty.

We jag onto Marcy, then follow it across Flushing, where it turns into Union. A left on 5th Street takes us down to the Williamsburg Bridge, the first of three bridges we'd cross. It's always psychologically harder to go across from Brooklyn first, when we are planning to come right back across. Going from Brooklyn is hard! Plus, the whole time, I am thinking about how much harder the bridge is on the way back from Manhattan.

But, we managit without too much pain. So off we go up north on Bedford. After a tiny kerfluffle in Williamsburg, we find where it intersects with Nassau and continue on Nassau until we reach McGuinness Avenue.

Not the nicest part of the run. We still have some miles to go but it is past the half-way point (for me, at least!) so I'm tired. And we are surrounded by fast-food joints and tire places. Plus, I can't look at Ivy League, as he is running in the traffic lane with the traffic flowing in his direction. There is a LOT of traffic on McGuinness!

Thankfully for my nerves, he takes to the sidewalk for at least part of this stretch.

Over the Pulaski Bridge we run. The temperature drops significantly. I wonder why this is: the Williamsburg Bridge is taller, and crosses the same body of water, yet the wind isn't nearly as bad as over the Pulaski or the Queensboro. And similarly for the Brooklyn or the Manhattan: they are all cold and windy but not to the same extent as their Queens kin. I had taken off my gloves and hat prior to the crossing. While we run over the bridge, my hands turn to icicles. Brrrrrr.

"If we were in the marathon, we'd be over half-way done!" I exclaimed near the end of the bridge. Ivy League says that there is still a marker up from the marathon, which I missed. Cool!

Up 11th we run, with the trucks and traffic. Here's where I've made a mis-calculation: I wanted to go 10 miles yesterday, or 12, max. Yet I thought, from the map, that we'd be able to get on the Queensboro from 11th.

Wrong. We end up running over 1/2 a mile to the east before being able to access the bridge. Oops! I need to remember this, as I am planning to use the Queensboro for hill practice in January.

Up onto the Queensboro. I'm ecstatic because of low blood sugar and the thought that I am almost done!

Ivy League is less ecstatic, knowing he still has to turn into the park while I trundle off to some nice hot tea at Starbucks.

Note: while I do not condone huge corporations in general, and do not like the quality of Starbucks coffee or its prices in particular, it is terribly convenient for meeting-up purposes to have this many Starbucks in the city. Knowing that I would have to wait for Ivy League at the end of the run and not wanting to schlep my office keys with me, I googled locations for Starbucks for each possible iteration of the proposed run. And, lo and behold, there were convenient meeting places for each!

Some fancy turning gets us onto 59th from the Queensboro and we get into the one really ugly part of the run. Other aspects might not have been asthetically pleasing but the route was great in that we had to stop very few times previously, considering we started running at about 3:00pm on a Friday. Our luck turns in Manhattan, however. 59th is miserable. Every light is a stop-and-shiver and the tourists with their packages and three-abreast and erratic walking is terrible in its awfulness. Their taxes might pay my salary but that doesn't stop me from complaining about them!

I leave Ivy League at the south-east corner of the park. I end up having to walk several times across the side of the park. The tourists are exacerbated by a fire on the other side of the street, causing the opposite sidewalk to be closed and gawkers to abound.

Finally make it to Starbucks and I settle in with Friday's crossword.

Yes, I said it. And no, I didn't buy it there. Knowing I'd be waiting for a bit, I stuffed the crossword into a pocket and my pen into my sportsbra before I left the house.

How's that for planning?

Forced out of my Cocoon

and into the bright, biting breeze. Booh.

How's that for alliteration?

Why am I so unmotivated?! I blame everything on the cold. My tiredness, my soreness, my cravings for candy and my general laze-a-bedness.

But I was meeting the Vivacious Redhead. So I perservered. Rushing a bit this morning, as I hid out under the covers until 7:00am, I managed to snag a bit of breakfast. Which was likely unnecessary, given the copious amounts of pistachios I ate last night while huddled in bed readding. But reassuring and reminding me of routine: the breakfast I always eat when I'm about to go on a training run.

Off to the cemetery for a look at the beautiful, crumbling limestone monuments and the not-so-beautiful, crumbling old subway cars parked in the subway graveyard across the way. Back around the rest of the park and then over to Milk Bar. Then, a trundle home: it was warmer than waiting for the subway. Between 10 1/2 and 11 miles.

My left foot started swelling. My back causing everything to tighten? So frustrating. I stretched a lot afterwards.

I must roll: my quad is feeling it, as well as my hamstrings, and today was an easy run. Though maybe its the coldness of my apartment making everything spasm.

I can't feel my feet.

When is winter over?

A Cold Constitutional

"Why go? You could always skip today, too......" The dreaded voice, often present but more strident in cold weather, cycled on repeat through my head yesterday as I taught classes.

I was tired. It was cold. And, really, it was supposed to be a lower-miles week.

All excuses.

"But I don't have gloves!" I thought as I was gearing up, despite a colleague warning me as to the chill. "Or a long-sleeved shirt!"

Squashing the dissent, I layered a couple of short-sleeved shirts under the jacket I left in my office and shivered out the door. At least I had a hat and thick socks.

Wanting to get the run in before another meeting and before I got too hungry - almost 4:00pm is a fair ways away from lunch, when you've left the house early enough for an 8:15am class.

First thing that happened, besides my hands and rear getting numb, was that I ran into the crowds at Columbus Circle. Stupid red-and-white shopping kiosks! Stupid tourists that likely pay my salary!

I can appreciate them without liking them, right?

A loop the hard way, then a resolute turning-around and going the other way, instead of running back at the turn-around conveniently located right at Columbus Circle. Sigh.

It got a lot warmer, actually. I didn't even need the gloves until the end, when the sun had been set for a while and the temperature dropped. The Time Warner sign said it was 31 degrees. I beg to differ!
Stopped to window-shop on the way back. Out of character and a mistake. Didn't find anything except crowds and what little I had sweated froze as the wind started blowing.

Don't know whether it's Central Park, or that my back has been bothering me and, likely, has tightened everything down the back of my legs, or both, but my butt and hamstrings really hurt by the end of this run. And I was going not-so-fast.

Hmmmmm.

Also an unwelcome twinge in my right quad. This weather causes everything to flare up!
A bit over 12 miles

A Quick Trip

through Red Hook! Like this post will be, the run was comparatively short.

It's the end of the semester, after all. Way too much stuff to catch up on or finish before those grades are due. Thus, too, my delay in posting!

After working all day in my freezing apartment, I was eager to accompany Ivy League on a quick jaunt through Red Hook before returning to my toils on Sunday.

Left from my apartment, braved the intense headwind all the way down Lincoln, then all the way down the rest of Eastern Parkway, then all the way down 9th street.

The temperature actually wasn't so bad when we weren't in the wind. I mean, I wouldn't have been sunbathing in a bikini but, if you were excersizing and dressed sensibly (i.e., dressed in as many layers of clothing as you could possibly force on yourself), it was merely cold. When the wind blew, however, it was breathtakingly cold. And, while we weren't running fast, we were running fast enough for me to realize that eating pizza for breakfast lunch and dinner the two previous days was not the best idea for my running capabilities.

No matter. We got down to Red Hook, where we got to run through that eery landscape. So neat. Seeing the huge cranes idly gleaming in the sun as the clouds turn a golden pink behind them was a major highlight. That, and this one weird corridor where you can see Manhattan in front of you through a long tunnel of buildings, with one slightly creepy, cloth-covered one to your left.

Back up the hill to Grand Army, where we stopped for a chat, some ice cream and some tea.

Yes, ice cream! Today is not a good diet week! I haven't had ice cream in about a year. It was good, though. Then my stomach remembered that it is kinda lactose intolerant.

Ah, well.

After being beseiged by end-of-year commitments, I hope my now-sturdy self will be able to get motivated to trundle out for two loops of the park before NOODLES! It is cold but I will think warm thoughts all day in preparation. Plus, I can eat more noodles if I run beforehand.

Oh, and I'm training. Right.

Back on a Roll

Sunday's theme was actually quite clever. Not funny but clever, with several levels to it.

Best clues:

It's between green and black.......oolong

Pea observer.......Mendel after trying to think of synonyms for 'princess', I reached back to undergraduate genetics for this one. His papers are actually quite interesting. I highly recommend them for a good read.

Raise a big stink?.......reek

The paper the puzzle is printed on is too thin to successfully make the shape you are supposed to be able to make. Perhaps if I had some cardboard to glue to the backside.....But, I've got class in about 5 minutes so I will have to wait to roll again.....Hah.

Will Run for Bagels

I slightly miscalculated my miles this week. Having to miss last Sunday for my knee put me in a bit of a panic. Having only 7 1/4 miles on Tuesday put me in a bit more of a panic.

I am supposed to be training for Birmingham, after all! Which is way too close for comfort. Why did I think it was a good idea to do this turnaround to another marathon thing again?!

At least I gave myself an additional month this time! Last year, Phoenix was in January and Birmingham is in February, at least. Here's to learning curves, however slight the incline!

I still don't know how I overshot my miles. Maybe I miscalculated. I'll do it again, here.

Sunday: 0 miles (I always start on Sunday because, otherwise, I'd be tempted to slack. It is Sunday, after all! But I feel bad starting out the week by slacking. I still do it but I feel worse.)

Monday: 12.5 miles (that's approximate. I ran two loops of Central Park and back and forth from my office.)

Tuesday: 7.25 (Again, this is approximate. I ran 5 miles in fartleks and ran home.)

Wednesday: 10.3

Thursday: 11.75

Friday: 17.25 (Stupid missing a turn, me! I was trying for 18! I really hate it when I make my long run too short!)

Saturday: 12.5

12.5 + 7.25 + 10.3 + 11.75 + 17.25 +12.5 = 71.55

Oops. I was only supposed to do 61 this past week! And I've been trying to stick to the mileage, doing just the mileage or a bit less, during the beginning of the training because New York was just a month ago this weekend! I'm not going to get faster if I am overtired or if I am injured.

Speaking of that.....I just took time to go get my ice pack and put it on my foot. Brrrrrr!

"Ok. I can still poke it and I don't leap back, screaming. I'm fine." Laced up my shoe extra loosely on the right side. Put on extra layers because of the chill. Stepped outside.

My rear was numb before I stepped off the stairs. And stayed that way until 4th Avenue. Lord, do I hate this weather! But I had promised Gorgeous that I'd be there. So away I went.

Lacking any motivated route-suggester, we ended up running over the Brooklyn Bridge. Others wanted to go further, around Battery Park and the like.

By the time I got over the bridge, my right foot had swelled into the space my loose laces had created, causing it to squeal yet again.

"I'd better turn back." The dreaded words, admitting weakness.

But Gorgeous wasn't feeling 100%, either, so I got her company on the way back, as well as the company of several people new to me, though two are, apparently, not new to the group runs.

When will I get my treasured Saturday runs back on a regular basis?! I so hate feeling like an outsider in my own group!

On the way back, I must have had running brain because, near Cadman Plaza, the rest of the group went around one side of it. I thought they were planning on running further into Cobble Hill. My foot protested and I bid adieu.

But, then, as I was running on Jay Street, I saw them crossing Atlantic! Well, given my eyesight, I didn't actually see them. But Gorgeous's new jacket is unmistakable in color. Wonder who she's been getting fashion tips from? Heh.

So I race up Pacific and did a tempo run to meet them. Interestingly, my foot did not hurt at all on that part of the run. The instant I slowed down, however, it started to squeal again.

Having talked up the Bagel Hole, Gorgeous and I had no problem getting two of the new girls to accompany us up to that hallowed place. Salt bagel with butter! Mmmmmm. Best bagel combo ever.

After seeing Gorges off to the train station, my foot was twinging with more regularity. It was swollen but, occasionally, I'd have stronger pulses. I started contemplating the train, myself. But I also wanted coffee.

Ran slowly with the new girls over to Flatbush, where they were planning to pick up the Bergen Street 2/3. Decided to turn right, towards Grand Army. On a whim, I turned, instead, back onto Park Place.

I need to run more off of Eastern Parkway. That's gotten to be a habit, especially because of the group runs. I realized yesterday, trundling down Park and eyeing the parks and houses I haven't seen in ages, that I really miss running through my neighborhood, proper.

Even if that's not actually my neighborhood. But it leads to my neighborhood!

Stopped on Franklin at the new coffee shop there. Stumptown coffee! Not bad but they need to fix their coffee-to-water ratio. It's definitely off. And they need to serve more interesting food. Luckily, I still had my bagel, tucked into my jacket pocket!

Out came the bagel. Down went the bagel. Bagel consumption led to other food thoughts. Passing Dutch Boy Burgers, I wondered "Why in the sam hill did they change their bun from brioche to a cheap sesame? It makes me never want to eat there, anymore."

My foot still twinged walking but settled down after a few blocks. I miss walking in my neighborhood, too.

Trying to lose miles by going to the Bagel Hole, I actually ran about 1 1/2 miles more than if I had gone straight home! But the bagel was worth it.

Iced my foot and rolled my calf yesterday. My foot often swells if my calf is too tight. Keeping my fingers crossed!

......And, Boy, Are My Arms Tired!

Uh oh. From the first steps yesterday, the top of my right foot squealed.

My penance for not doing enough rolling, this foot increases its size and squealing when my calf is too tight. Which it, apparently, is.

I knew from there that this run would be a test, a challenge for my body but, more importantly, for my mind. Why not just turn back now? It's going to hurt so why prolong the pain?

But, the massive amounts of food I had eaten the night before 'carbo-loading' and the fact that I was supposed to meet Ivy League spurred me on. Ouch. Downhill was worse.

I had poked my foot, hard. I didn't pass out. So I knew I hadn't fractured anything. My main goal was to just try to forget about it. Otherwise, I might start to favor it and injure something else.

Luckily, other stuff started to hurt fairly soon into the run. Whew.

I ran a semi-frustrating 3.86 before meeting Ivy League for the main event. Try running down Eastern Parkway at 8 something in the morning when you have somehow magically callibrated your stride to hit every single light as it cycles to red!

A likely ill-advised sprint through some cars on Schenectady solved this problem. The way back to GAP, I was back on the green cycle. Eastern Parkway's traffic is nothing if not predictable. Thank you, city planners!

A big part of getting out the door in these intemperate times involves me being not-horribly-freezing when I step out the door. Too little clothing and this little bunny hops right back inside, all the way up to bed with the covers over her head.

Of course, being the temperature weenie that I am, not-horribly-freezing in 34 degree weather requires gloves, a hat, a long-sleeved shirt, a long-sleeved thermal, a winter running jacket and thick tights. And a debate about whether another pair of pants is warranted. I really hate it when my butt goes numb.

So, of course, by the time I reach Ivy League, I have stripped myself of the hat and am wishing I didn't have one of the top layers. There was little wind yesterday and the sun was shining. But my Gus were in the jacket, so I didn't want to leave it somewhere. I tied it around my waist, loosened my shoe in the vain hope that my foot would hurt less, picked up my water bottles and we shoved off.

Yes, I did bring the water bottles. The run we had planned involved little water fountain possibilities. Plus, due to the inclement weather recently, any errant fountain was likely to be a false oasis: appearing to offer aid but coming up dry.

I hadn't run with water bottles since my last long run before New York. And I'd been slacking on my push-ups, bigtime. This will be important. But it seemed pretty innocent at the time. After all, water bottles don't weigh very much, do they?

From GAP, we headed down to Rogers. Our ultimate goal was Bedford but the Vivacious Redhead and I have learned that it is highly advisable to skip the top part of Bedford, near Eastern Parkway, during the time of day at which Ivy League and I were running.

Down the hill, my foot aching, we ran. Down, down, down. We had scheduled this run when a plan to go to Manhattan and run rolling hills fell through. "Sorry! Maybe I should have planned the run so that we would have had to run up this hill!"

Later, I remembered that long, slightly rising runs have their own challenges. Like no downhills where you can catch your breath.

Legs tired from fartleks and our respective runs the day prior, Ivy League and I decided it would be better to finish the whole run than to really push it going down to the water. So off we went, at a respectable but not even semi-fast pace. It was faster than walking, anyway.

Fun fact: if you really need to use the bathroom on a run, go to the nearest laundromat. They almost always have bathrooms and they don't have the attendant peering suspiciously and dissaprovingly at you as you race past the merchandise they are trying to sell in other possible bathroom venues.

At Empire, we crossed back over to Bedford. All the way down Bedford we ran, just above a trundle. Down, down, down. Down past Avenue Z, we started looking for Emmons. It was hard to miss: were we to try to continue straight, we would have found ourselves in a (likely-freezing) body of water. Here's where the directions got a bit whacky.

I had mapped the run and had written down the instructions. But some parts of Brooklyn are resistant to such technological innovations. Especially places like Sheepshead Bay, where we now found ourselves. In typical resistance fashion, the streets did not do what the map said they did. First, we overshot West End, turning around only when we realized that we were almost in Brighton Beach, where we didn't want to go.

Then, we kept looking for a cross street that never materialized. Ah, well. At least we saw the ocean.

We scrapped the mysterious loop scheduled for us down there and headed back towards Emmons Avenue. The resistance had won, this time. Next time, we might come armed with GPS.

This is where our run might have been cut a bit short, as our times were too fast for how slowly we were running. Although we did overshoot several streets, I don't think it completely made up for our lack of loop.

Ivy League made up for it later, flying solo, as we will see.

So, we get back to Bedford. Ivy League is in full auto-zone mode: he is running lights like he's the Chestershire Cat or Story Finder. I, however, value my toes. Plus, I am a bit behind him, so the light has been green longer by the time I get there.

Three such lights at major thoroughfares happen. I am further and further behind. "Too bad for him. I'm the one with the water!" I decide to stop and try to find a Gu in the voluminous back pocket of my jacket that is now twisted in very strange ways. It takes several minutes. I'd tell Ivy League but he is too far ahead to hear my scream, strident as my voice is.

After eating my last half Gu, I slip on my headphones. A nice solitary run is in the cards for the way back. I count the streets down backwards.

I really have no idea how state troopers can ask, in all seriousness, for someone to recite the alphabet backwards as a sobriety test. I was trying to anticipate the street coming up, as my arms were so tired that my poor shoulders ached.

To do so, I had to recite the alphabet forwards first. And there really was just water in those water bottles, folks!

Note to self: you know you've been slacking on your pushups when, on your first 18-miler in almost a month, your arms are what is aching the most. I could barely feel the ache in my foot, though!

Getting stopped at Kings Highway iced it. I knew that Ivy League was too far ahead of me now for me to even attempt to look for him. "I'll just meet him at the corner of H and Nostrand, where the 2 comes in."

Hah. Someone didn't listen to directions!

I got to I and gratefully turned right to make my first left on Nostrand. I didn't see Ivy League anywhere. Panic rose up in my throat.

I've always had an isue with being lost or not being able to find people. Just ask my ex, who used to wander around the grocery store without telling me where he was going. "Stop paging me over the intercom!" was a common theme in our post-grocery conversations.

"Don't panic. I'm sure he's not hurt." I search everywhere: subway,streets, Applebee's. I contemplated asking the police officers on the corner if they had seen a weirdly dressed man with a navy and orange hat go by.
he
"Hello!" Arms waving. Thank goodness! I found him! Or, he found me, to be more precise. Having forgotten the directions (which, let's face it, most of us have at some point), he had continued on I. Having long-run brain, it took him until he was almost at Utica to realize that he had missed a turn.

At least he got in the extra mile or so we must have missed by losing the loop at the bottom! Knowing he wasn't injured in a ditch, I instantly felt better.

Though, had he be injured in a ditch, how would I have found him? What could I have done, had I found him? Threw him over my shoulder and carried him? More evidence as to how irrational fears are, in fact, irrational. Why fear something if you can't do anything about it, were it to happen?

We made a plan for next time: loop back earlier and, were this situation to happen again, wait 10 minutes and then just get on the subway home.

Makes good sense to me. I like me a plan.

Great subway ride home, after scarfing some food. Hungry!

So tired at my meeting, later, that I actually bought caffeinated tea in the middle of the afternoon.

My shoulders and forearms ached all evening. This morning, my right forearm still aches.

It pulses nicely with the top of my right foot. An off-tempo rhythm to start my day off right!

Now, to go meet Gorgeous, if I can make it out the door. Sigh.

In a Time of Stress and Changes, A Reassuring Regularity

The weather changed today. Here I was, hoping it would be like Alabama forever. Alas, this was not to be.

I am currently wearing a scarf in my own apartment and am having trouble feeling my toes. Winter is here, even if the official start isn't until later. It likes to be that pesky early guest, who shows up before you've cleaned the house or finished putting out the hors d'oeuvres.

Wait. I do that.......

As usual, on Thursdays when I am in NY, I worked until near when I was supposed to meet the Vivacious Redhead, then underestimated the time it would take for me to get dressed in all those layers.

Plus, it really bothers me to leave the house without all the dishes being washed. Only in an emergency or possible lateness to work......

As usual, I was rushing down Eastern Parkway, trying to make lights. As usual, they were against me. Evil lights! I was also testing out my knee. It did not like the cold weather and started out in protestation but quieted down except for the occasional twinge on a sharp turn.

As usual, to get out of the house in cold weather, I was a mite overdressed. Thick tights. Long-sleeved shirt. Lined jacket. Hat and mitten/gloves. My neck missed my long hair.

At first, my rear went numb. "Drat! I knew I should have worn an extra pair of pants!"

But by the school, its circulation had returned. Whew!

As usual, we headed out towards the cemetary along 6th Avenue.

As usual, we had a delightful conversation and planned stuff that we needed to plan for PPTC.

Unusually for the cemetary run, we went around part of the park and then ran down to Brooklyn College, along the route of one of our other usual runs: Bedford Avenue.

As usual, we got coffee and argued about who would pay.

I loved all of it. The weather warmed up, the sun was out, the campus was beautiful and the subway ride back from the end of the 2 line dropped me off near my house in short order.

With everything else tilted askew recently, having a good regular is essential for a gal like me. Since I don't have a regular bar, I'll settle for what I've got. Seems like a pretty good compromise.

There She Blows!

Almost literally!

I had my fair share of being blown about this morning.

Though, I almost didn't. "WHHHHHHHHOOOOOO" whined the leaking skylights. "Ping, Ping, Ping" went the rain on the windows. "Noooooo!" went my brain at 4:30 in the morning.

But I knew I'd have meetings all day today. So I steeled myself and went out.

Thank goodness I decided, last minute, to try out the specialized rain jacket that I noticed my backpack has in an outside pocket!

Some observations: running in windy, rainy weather gives me the excuse I need to go slower than I should. Need to work on that.

Very few people are on the Brooklyn Bridge in December at 6:something in the morning when it's that rainy. The only time I've seen fewer was the day that I ran in the almost-freezing and blinding rain a couple of years ago and the day that I ran home in the almost-blizzard last year.

Short hair is a pain in the rear when it is blowing and rainy. My hair was plastered in weird ways to my face and I couldn't get it off.

Rainjackets for backpacks are awesome! my stuff was completely dry, including my papers and my computer!

You have your pick of places to run on the West Side during a rainstorm. There are basically no bikes.

The West Side is still beautiful when the sun is rising over the water, even when the water is choppy and the skyline is a bit foggy.

Rewarding yourself with a 2-egg sandwich right before class is a bad idea. Even if you are hungry, 2 eggs are just too much! Bleah. I threw out a lot of it.

While not nearly as bad as I feared, I'd like to see less rather than more of those days. It is hard enough for the sun just to be rising as I am nearing work. Don't add dreariness and whipping winds!

Hot and Cold

"Ok. This is really enough." I peel off layers of blanket and wipe my forehead of sweat.

The heat has temporarily turned on again in my bedroom. My spacious, airy bedroom with nicely filtered light and no insulation. Thus, the layers of blanket.

Of course, doing so has disturbed the mountainous creature who had also previously been cold and, therefore, had decided to sleep on my leg. Or so I ascertained by the weighty feeling when I tried to move. My leg had gone numb.

All week, I've been waking up every 45 minutes to an hour and staying awake, either shivering or sweating. The culprit, I have surmised, is the nature of my bedroom.

That and the clanking, bubbling, hissing of the radiator, when it grudgingly gives its much-needed heat. Which then causes the blankets to be too much. Which then makes me sweat.

Which coating makes the cooling after the radiator turns off even more effective. That and the blankets have been turned down.

Ah. Winter.

You think you sleep better in the winter? I invite you over to try out these accomodations. At least you will revel in the size of the bedroom every time you wake up.

Anyone have suggestions as to how to make it so I can actually sleep?! Besides enough money for a new apartment?

On the plus side, I have had a lot of time to plan lessons and worry about the future, given my total time of wakefulness......

The Weakness and the Pain

I almost didn't go.

Wandering around a bodega on 16th, squinting at the merchandise with my no-glasses eyes and pretending to be very interested that they sold 'guarana plus' sports drinks and a huge amount of Red Bull, I thought, "You are freezing and really stressed. Pressure seems to be coming from everywhere. Plus, it's raining. And cold. Go home!"

I might have, except I was nowhere near a subway that would take me there. Plus, it was almost time to start. And I had raced out of work to be there on time. So I trudged over to Bartell-Pritchard Square, glad that I had put on that extra long-sleeved shirt I keep in my office, as rank as it smelled.

Leaving my backpack with the Coach, I huddled around myself while milling about. Thre were some familiar faces but, I realized, with my schedule interfering with my social running, there were also a lot of people greeting each other whom I didn't recognize.

I miss group runs. "That's why you are here, in part!" I admonished myself.

It being rainy, Coach had us do fartleks, something I still don't really understand. As far as I can tell, you run some random amount of time, then someone decides you are going to run really, really fast and then you keep doing that until someone decides you stop. It seems pretty stupid, if you ask me. Why not have some standard? That way, when you are running in between groups, as I seemed to be doing, and you are also blind, which I was, you could still figure out when you were supposed to go or not go.

Sure, I could and did sort of figure out how to do this myself but that kind of defeats the purpose of group speed work. I guess it helped me get out there.

Too slow. That's what I am. Too slow for the fast group. Too slow for several other people, as well, who passed me and kept going. I ended up running with Chiseled, who kindly waited at the Coney Island turn-around for a second until she was sure that my asthma attack wasn't bad enough that I was going to keel over.

Did I mention I hate doing speedwork in rainy, cold weather? Does wonders for the asthma.

But, I need my lungs to get stronger. They are weak. And group speedwork is the only way that I can see that this will happen. Pushing myself to an asthma attack on my own is highly unlikely to happen, it being a rather unpleasant experience. But, I'm hoping, each time I do it will cause the next time to be a little bit later, when I am going a little bit faster.

Now, if only I could get a kick!

After 5 miles of this wonderfulness, I collected my backpack, listened to some last words, and trundled off home with Ivy League and my backpack. Met two new, cute, nice people who were also doing speedwork and who were running back in the direction I came.

Maybe that's why it's good I'm doing speedwork, too. Got in likely about 7 and 1/4. Felt like more.

Today's run to school is going to be fun!

The Pain in My Butt Makes My Knee Hurt Less

I love high heels.

Until I was about 22, the only time I didn't wear high heels was when I was waitressing or biking.

Then, I got old. Things started to hurt.

And then I added running. In Auburn, when I amped up my miles, I realized that my footwear really had to become boring and 'sensible'. I cried a bit.

But I also get illusions of invincibility. And I've still got some really cute shoes.

I also have really really steep stairs. Not a good combination with old knees and 4-inch heels, when you are going up and down the stairs repeatedly because you are having people over.

Great Thanksgiving. The brussels sprouts, vegetarian shepard's pie, mac 'n' cheese, etc. turned out well. Company was fabulous.

Shoes were a major mistake. Had to take off 3 days because of a shooting knee pain when going up or down stairs - and sometimes, even, when just walking.

I was a mess. Too much energy and not enough exercise makes me an unpredictable person. Likely in a bad way!

So, I gave myself until yesterday and then let myself try the knee out before going to a board meeting.

Lacing up my shoes as soon as possible after my last class, I raced out into the cold to do some solo evaluation. In Central Park.

Because, you know, there's no better 'easy run' than two loops of Central Park when you are used to Brooklyn.

Yeah. Right. At least I started out the hard way, to get it over with.

Or, I should say, the hard-er way. Neither was a picnic!

Even last year, when I'd grab a run between classes, I was never in Central Park after dark. The only time I'd be running in Manhattan without the benefit of some sun was commuting to or from work on the West Side, never in the park itself.

It was kind of creepy. Cool but creepy. I can see very little, period, when I'm running and can see even less without the benefit of el sol.

That might have been a little dangerous. Oops! Of course, I concentrated on looking intimidating. Not much of a stretch, of course. People meet me and think, "Wow! She is so intimidating! Look at those amazing color combinations! And that huge hair and squeaky voice!"

I resolved, in looking intimidating, that I would not speak.

Warm-up from my office, a clockwise loop and then a counter-clockwise loop, then a warm-down to near the office before walking the rest of the way. 1:50:42 total. Pretty slow but, then again, I wasn't pushing it. Wanted to make sure my knee didn't get tweaked.

Actually, the knee didn't hurt until the very end. My rear was too busy hurting. The change in my gait post-quad-injury plus the hills in Central Park did a good job in transferring the pain to my rear end from my knee.
Today, my hamstrings are tired! Those hills are no joke for a Brooklynite! More practice.......

Psychologically, it was hard for me, too. I hate doing loops! My inherently lazy self always thinks, "look, where you started is right there! One loop, two loops....It's all the same, right?"

The Most Fun Race Ever!

People in town, parties and work colluded to make me be a late poster on the Turkey Trot, hosted by my very own club: PPTC.

I have never had so much fun in a race. There are photos of me and Gorgeous near the finish, where we are smiling and laughing. When does THAT ever happen?!

Of course, it helped that we weren't really racing! Hehe. I'll have to do this again!

Suave and Intellectual Rapier came into town really late the night before the race. With entertaining and cooking to do, I knew I wouldn't be in the right mindset or physical place to actually race the Turkey Trot the next day.

So I arranged with Gorges to just do a nice tempo run, with a bit of a relaxed run afterwards. What a great decision!

Took a car to the race, instead of doing my usual run, because Intellectual Rapier was also running the Turkey Trot and didn't think she could add on an addtional 2+ miles before the start. That was a bit frustrating but it also meant that the morning of the race was unusually calm. There were no problems with drop-off, as the police had marked out a place for cars to pull over on Ocean Avenue, solving what would otherwise be terrible traffic problems due to the large number of people swarming out of cars near Lincoln Road.
Got to the bag drop-off in plenty of time and went to find Gorgeous, who was volunteering. Found her and waited for a bit in the Audubon Center, as it was very cold outside.

Wished for the weather we had experienced two days prior to the race. Now that would have been ideal conditions!

There were some tense moments when we were waiting for Gorgeous to use the rest room and I was afraid we'd miss the start.

Then I remembered that I wasn't racing and that it didn't matter! The shoulders relaxed from around my ears and my fists unclenched. Then they clenched again because I was freezing!

We decided to start further back than usual because the gun was 30 seconds from going off and because we weren't interested in going out really fast. This proved to be a bit of a mistake.

Lots of people + no corrals + people who have no idea where to put themselves in a race start + a really tight turn straight off in the race = major logjam. This is actually my one complaint about the race and we likely could have had a different experience had we actually started earlier. Too many really slow people with some not-as-slow people led to a really terrible first mile. Gorgeous will have to give the details but I think it was something like 9+ minutes.

Sheesh.

The rest of the way, though, was fantastic! When we got to mile 3, I actually thought "Wow! We're here already!" This never happens in a 5-miler! Usually, at that point, I am thinking "Holy crap! I still have 2 miles to go!"

There were a couple of times in the race where I'd surge and Gorgeous would look at me like I was crazy. It was after I got out of earshot that I'd explain. One man and several women tried to race us as we passed them.

We started out far behind that we were passing people the whole way, even though we weren't racing it. And the locations in the race where we passed these people were locations where they would still have to go a fair ways. I didn't want to be responsible for someone crashing and burning during the last mile because I was having a fun run! That would have made me feel really bad.

And I also was really happy for the cheerers but felt a bit bad that they would cheer enthusiastically for us when we didn't really need the encouragement. They could have spent their energy on people for whom the cheering really would have helped! I know it helps in races where I'm trying to go for it!

Maybe, if I do this again, I could just put on a bib that said: Fun run

We got near the finish and picked it up. Actually, I think we picked it up the entire last mile. As usual, Gorgeous gives me a smile and says "try to catch up!"

She passed me easily and raced through the finish first. Wow!

The last mile was under 7/mile pace. I think it was more like 6:45 or so. Not bad! Just shows how we weren't really pushing it so much the rest of the time.
Finished in something like 35:33. Age Graded % a rightfully low 68.4% Fun factor: 100!

We then ran back and cheered other people on, adding about another 2 1/2 miles.

Whee!

Finished off this love-fest by walking home and gabbing with Intellectual Rapier the whole way, then getting coffee and cooking! I love days like this!

I was trying to put a picture in of the incredible: me smiling at the end of the race. However, I couldn't figure out how to do this. Anyone know who might like to share with me?

Ouchie!

I don't expect much pity: I did bring this upon myself.

Shading on a tattoo + inner thigh = swelling.

Not as bad as last time but my left thigh is definitely larger than my right.

So what, right? It's just a bit sore to the touch!

Wrong. Last time, I couldn't run for three days. Whether it's because the artist had a lighter touch, or because I am lighter, or because I had already had the outline done, I don't think it's going to be that bad.

The run was hard for me, though, in more than one regard. After rolling, the legs felt much better. But they were still tired.

I was motivated! Ready to go out over the Williamsburg Bridge and back -about 9.75 miles.

Then I started running. With each step, pain radiated over my thigh. "it'll go numb."

No. It simmered down some, only to flare back up on each downhill and heavy step on my left side. Braking for lights became even less appetizing than usual. By the time I was at Atlantic, I knew.

I had to downgrade my run.

Now, as all motivated or semi-motivated people know (with myself in the second category), one of the reasons that the motivation educes is because you come up with schedules where it seems like a travesty to alter it in any way,unless it is to jam in more.

So, knowing I had to do less than planned had my mind start racing. "maybe I should do it anyway. Maybe it's not so bad.". This same thinking had me come incredibly close to finishing the last five miles of my run the day I tore ligaments in my ankle.

Bad idea. Focus on the long-term!

So I took a deep breathe and trundles down to Fulton, where I ran to Flatbush and back hometown Eastern Parkway.

The day was not making my decision easier. Sunny, 60s weather in November.

But I did it. Weird to be a bit proud of a 5.75 mile run.

Hope the swelling goes down! It is definitely ouchie!

Shooting Hairballs

That title doesn't make sense. But neither did the Sunday puzzle's theme, really.

"Having aspirations" = adding an "H" to some regular saying? Seems like we are talking about coughing up hairballs.

This puzzle was as successful a Sunday puzzle as shooting hairballs - oops, I mean airballs - is successful in winning a basketball game.

With the exception of one grid part right in the top middle, which was rendered impossible because of the combination of film people and the like (popular culture and me don't get along so much), the puzzle was also really easy. It was like a joyless slog, where I just wanted to get the massive number of answers filled in so that I could move on to more interesting puzzles.

I have to do the puzzles in order, you see. Just another endearing personality quirk! It's good I live alone. I could see the headlines now, otherwise:

Woman stabbed by roommate. "I had to stop her! After washing her cup 5 times, she was going to dip her teabag exactly 5 times. I couldn't take it anymore!"

Ah. Routine.

Ain't Got No Money, Ain't Got No Gas........

No money in my pockets: early holiday shopping, Thanksgiving and a new tattoo took care of that. No gas in the tack: that's what I discovered yesterday when attempting to run with Ivy League again.

Notice I said 'attempting'. Like an overweight German Shepard with hip displasia running after a young rabbit, I kept trying to push my legs to meet his. But he stayed just ahead of me: every time I thought I'd caught him, he'd go just a little bit faster. Then he hopped out of sight altogether.

A weird feeling, too. I wasn't breathing that hard. My legs just wouldn't respond. One is still sore this morning and my back hurts. Hmmmmmmm.

Kindly meeting me at work, we raced to get changed and to fit in a run before my next appointment. Down to the West Side path then up and over to Riverside. The right side of Riverside is significantly hillier than the left side, which is already quite hillly. My legs, remembering the beauty of Baltimore hills in the recent past, put up a protest. After getting up to 120th, we cut by Columbia and went over to that amazing promenade on the other side of Columbia.

"These used to be a series of burned-out houses. The students in this dorm would often wake up to gunshots." I know that this was true, having witnessed some of this myself in trips to visit graduate school friends in the 90s. But it's very hard to reconcile the 'past' picture with the 'present' picture of redone facades, baby strollers and other yuppy paraphanalia. Then, down to the park. Decided to go down the West side because of time constraints. After getting water, an essential for the warm day and my overdressed self (thinking it was November, after all, I only have a pair of double-lined long pants at my office that are currently usable as running gear), off we went. And this is where I started running completely by myself.

With "Cherry Pie" stuck in my head. Not the best way to finish a run. Ivy League was running so fast that I quickly lost him to the horizon. I kept motoring along as best I could on my tired, lazy legs.

Either everyone in the park was running slowly, or we were running pretty fast. The only person I didn't pass going the same direction was Ivy League, himself.

Finally: in the middle of the refrain "taste so good, make a grown man cry", I saw Ivy League doubling back and Columbus Circle. I made us stop for some much-needed frozen yogurt. Having a small lunch at 10:45am is probably not the best idea when you are not running until 3:40pm!

Hoping I can run an easy run today. The Turkey Trot is Thursday, so I'll take tomorrow off and concentrate on teaching, research and cooking. Finished my tattoo last night, though, and my leg is quite swollen. We'll see......

3 for 1

3 runs, 3 states, 4 days, 1 post

Beautiful, crisp, sunny, windy weather greeted me on Thursday when, avoiding doing work, I decided to move my long run up a day. I did a basic map of the route but mapping around the Charles is so difficult because it's hard to see where the trails go! I was wishing for my Garmin, then, as pernicious a piece of equipment as it often is. Instead, I went on the rough map and on time. My legs are still feeling the marathon, I think. Past about 1:15 and they go a bit dead, as if they are saying "What in the heck do you think you are doing with us?!" Still, kept a pretty good pace for at least the first part.

When running in windy, chilly but not cold, weather, I quickly encounter a problem. After all 3 runs, my skin - especially on the nape of my neck, my ears, and everywhere that is solely covered by my long-sleeve tech shirt (it's got those tiny little holes in it, which is important for this story)is red and itches horribly! The only way I can get it to stop itching, and me from rubbing my skin to pieces, is to take a shower and slather on lotion. And that still doesn't help it a lot! I know it's because I'm getting wind-burnt but what should I do?

I guess one possibility is to just outwait the weather. After all, it will soon be so cold that I will always be wearing a jacket and the problem will stop on its own......

Friday, due to the work I skipped on Thursday running and due to travel arrangements, I didn't run. I made pies, instead. Hey, if you can't run, you might as well eat!

Saturday morning, before cooking up onion mushroom soup, roasted brussels sprouts and biscuits as my contribution to early Thanksgiving, I drove to downtown Baltimore to go on one of my old standards.

"You really should go the other way around the Charles Street-Lake Avenue-Roland Avenue loop!" I scolded myself for about the 15th time.

It's true: it's much easier the way I do it. I am going downhill most of the way, going counter-clockwise. But I like going counter-clockwise: it's part of one of my weird quirks. Plus, don't you want to be facing traffic, for all those early-morning maniacs? Justifications!

Down University, looking at all the huge homes and back over to Charles Street, I buzz down to just before Baltimore Street. My watch said that I had done enough in that direction, so no early Saturday strip teases for me. Ah, the humanity! I turned down to St. Paul's and took it back up to University, where I cut back over to Charles Street and (no other way to express it) trundled back to my car.

Baltimore has only 500 feet net elevation gain. But the hills can be wicked. And going downtown first means that you are going almost completely uphill on the way back. Add in my still-tired legs (see previous run) and the large amounts of cheese I had already consumed (being the only food that I can eat at my parents' house) and I started to be pretty unhappy around mile 10. Trundling was all I was good for!

After more cheese and some excitement with a swat team pursuing a robbery suspect, I was back on the train to NY, working away and waiting to meet Ivy League for some recovery running.

Well, I would be recovery running. Ivy League wanted to do intervals. Too much cheese and intervals might equal puke. I had puked enough the week before. Best to be on the safe side!

Met him at GAP, where I persuaded him to run back down Eastern Parkway. Another (mainly) solitary run, as his intervals took him down the street much faster than I was willing (or able) to go. Found the end to Lincoln Place and started running back up. Each light made me further and further distant from Ivy League, as I seemed to get stuck at almost all of them. Frustrating!

Then I passed my house. But I kept going. That was hard. But I knew that Ivy League was going to be waiting for me. I averted my eyes.

Ran down to GAP and went around a different part to finish up the run. After I left Ivy League I (again) trundled home. About 9 difficult miles for me.

"I have no idea how you kept that pace during the entire marathon!" Ivy League exclaimed near the end, when he came back into sight. "I mean, I wasn't going much faster than a 7 minute pace and those were tiring!"

Right now, I have no idea how I held that pace, either.

While yesterday might not have been the day to push it, I need to visualize speed work in my future if I am going to have a decent time in Birmingham. Plus, find some more hills. Birmingham is on the side of a mountain, after all!

Cyclists are Different than Bikers!

"Don't people know the difference between people who race bikes and those crazy people trying to get down the West Side Highway trail to work? Or the clueless tourists in Central Park?"

"No. People who think cyclists and bike races are dangerous and ought to be outlawed or restricted don't differentiate between the two. That's one of the main problems."

Now, I am using my own terms for this distinction. They might use different ones. But the point is the same. There is a difference, and an important one, between cyclists and bikers, just like there is between runners and joggers. And I don't mean the time it takes for them to complete some distance, at least not totally. By that, I mean, you can be a runner and take 40 minutes for a 5k. It is a lot less likely, though possible, that you can be a six-minute miler and a jogger. Joggers run four abreast in such a way that it is impossible to get around them, or who needlessly spread across the whole roadway during a race, even though there is other, non-race, foot or bike traffic that might be going by.(notice I am emphasizing needless: in some of these races, they allow so many people on the course that there is no other place for people to go.)These are among other differences.

Such is the distinction I see between cyclists and bikers. When cyclists are in the parks racing, they are well-behaved and respectful. They make all attempts to avoid the idiot with the dog who steps out right in front of twenty of them. They keep to their part of the park. Unlike the bikers who are riding down the sidewalk, weaving erratically through the pedestrians while seeming to try cutting off as many people as possible.

Sure, cyclists can be rude or obnoxious, in the sense they might yell at you. What runner hasn't yelled at someone? What New Yorker hasn't yelled at someone? If yelling were a reason not to allow, or to severely restrict, racing, there would be little to no competition of any kind in the five borough area. Physical harm is what is at issue. And well-trained and serious cyclists are unlikely to cause this. And people should remember that.

A Lunchtime Quickie

Or, what counts as lunchtime if you are up before five......

Wasn't going to run today because of the weather, my hair and physical therapy yesterday. It had been blowing rain in the morning, I had washed my hair, and physical therapy made my calves much less tight but much more sore.

It stopped raining, my calves felt better and I persuaded myself that my hair would stay flat and relatively perfect if I only went on a short run. Plus, I was tired and thought it a good way to pep myself up.

Out into the park I went. Shortly into the run, the wind was gusting so hard, I knew the hair was done. Contemplated turning around. Decided that was ridiculous. Continued cursing the wind and holding my hand over my hair. Which was about as effective a prevention tool as my 85-year-old, 70-pound, osteoparitic grandmother's arm held out in front of me when she stopped abruptly in her Caprice Classic.

If those super-skeletal women who are walking in the park are coming off of a life-threatening illness, like cancer, I understand why they are walking. If they are, instead, anorexic, why are they walking and not running? Wouldn't running be a more effective way to burn calories? Unless they are already so underweight that they don't actually have the energy to run. Which is just depressing.

Ah, the pleasant thoughts that fly through my head sometimes!

Ran out and back for a bit under 44 minutes. My calves still feel ok, though my left knee hurt a bit-because of the camber, likely. My energy was returned for a time and my hair was huge. You can't get everything.

The Beauty, the Ugliness and the Recovery

Beautiful day, Sunday. Nice enough to jog with shorts. And Jog we did. LSE, Ivy League, Gorges and I had all run the marathon the week before and were still feeling it. Superman had just eaten lunch and, so, was more than happy to keep the pace low-key.
Sunshine, flowers and kittens.

Ok. No flowers or kittens. No flowers because it was November in Brooklyn, after all. And it was likely good that we saw no kittens. It was November in Brooklyn after all.

But you catch my drift. We traded war stories and talked about races to come. I made arrangements to have a regular run with Superman after the holidays.

Ran the outside of the park, then LSE and Superman and I did a short loop of the park, going through the first transverse. LSE tried to pick it up, of course, but Superman and I resisted. When he finally took off at the hill, we watched him go then turned back to each other and continued our conversation.

Even better, I had lured Ivy League and Gorgeous out with the promise of a beer. So off we went to share a beer and some more chat.

Due to my awesome new pull-over (florescent green), I am sure, I even got some "Hey cutie!"s as I walked through my neighborhood after running back to Nostrand!

Then, the start of the ugly.

I knew better. I thought about what their probable sanitation grade was as I walked there, and promised myself I wouldn't get take-out if it was a B or below. But there was no grade on the front of the store (just a place where a piece of paper appeared to be torn off: bad grade or old reggae flyer? we will never know). So I went in.

Felt a bit queasy later in the evening, but chalked it up to being tired. Around 3:30am, I knew differently.

I am not a puker. Found out a few things on Monday, though. Firstly, it stinks to be late leaving for work because you are indisposed over a toilet. Secondly, as much fun as an older gentlemen with major beer breath trying to hit on you at 6:00am at a subway stop is, it is even more fun when you are about to puke on his shoes. Thirdly, Columbus Circle is not the place to puke sanitarily, if you have the option. The trashcans are too high. I've been counciled that Times Square is much better, as they have the more normal-sized trash cans.

Do you think they designed the cans that way on purpose?

I have no idea what pregnant ladies do when commuting to work. Bring their own barf bag and then quietly and publicly puke while sitting on the subway? It's not like you can get off of it whenever you want to!

And who gets food poisoning from vegan food, anyway?! Only from some disgusting hygenic issues that I don't want to think about. Stomach still not 100%!

So no running, some interesting teaching, and an early bedtime ensued on Monday.

The recovery started Monday afternoon. Less nausea, etc. Still had the chills but was feeling a bit better. So, after being in bed for hours, I was pysched to try my stomach out by meeting the Vivacious Redhead for a run Tuesday morning.

After all, I've got training for Birmingham to do and papers to avoid!

So I met her at the school and we ran the cemetary, coming back to a great little coffee shop on 3rd Avenue. My stomach was not quite up for coffee but we talked about Thanksgiving plans and ideas for recipes.

Yay for being able to run again! After more recovery and physical therapy yesterday, which did magic for my problematic calf - it was way too tight and was pulling on every other muscle and a tendon that connects the calf and the hamstring, so more painful rolling for me - I am psyched to go back to training.

Too bad training is likely not in the cards today, unless it stops raining. A quite between-classes jog is alright but it doesn't work so well if you come back looking as if you were just pulled from the sewer.

Easy as ABC

That was the answer to one of today's crossword clues and pretty much summed up the puzzle as a whole.
The theme wasn't so great today: I'm waiting for some more of those witty, sly themes that have been missing for a while from my Sunday afternoons.

A few good ones though.

Round container........gun

Ohio State athlete who forgot his uniform........buck naked Buckeye.

Fragrent cake......bar of soap

One who puts U in disfavor?..........Brit

And a tricycle for a CEO? Big wheel of big cheese.


Heh

Back to work......

First Times

A week or so ago was all about lasts. Last run before the marathon, last long run, last few miles. Now, it's all about firsts. First time running with short hair-two poofs are the new rage! First time going to a debate tournament. First time on the boardwalk in Asbury Park. First time putting my hand in the water in New Jersey.
I've heard that a lot of people like firsts: they are new, exciting and different. A routine-hound, regulated like I often am, firsts are scary to me. They represent an unknown, a deviation from my planned-outness. With all of these firsts, and with so much in flux and so much no longer routine and comforting, anxiety has been my almost-constant companion.
But running along the boardwalk, eyeing the beach and feeling the sun on my bare arms and back, I came to peace with firsts, at least for the time being.
With a great soundtrack, I zipped along a completely flat out and back, planning my strategy for my afternoon's work in my head and smiling at those who stopped and stared a bit - it must have been weird to see someone running in heavy Lycra tights and a sports bra but I hadn't packed for such clement weather! A bit over 45 minutes.
And then dinner at the same restaurant as last night. I can't deal with too many firsts, even in my newly accepting state.

I Know, I Know.....

.....that I'd said I'd wait. But it was too tempting and I was too fidgety!
Persuaded LSE to go for a quick, short run yesterday morning. Had to gird up for the Jersey Invitational, you see. Did a shortened loop of the park and then ran back home.
Got to hear the play-by-play on his race and gave him some unasked-for advice.
I need to nip that habit in the bud! I hate it when people give me advice that I haven't requested!
My calf is still a bit sore. By the time the run was over, I was glad it was over. My hamstrings kinda hurt, too.
But today the legs feel better. So maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, after all.
Rage on, Jersey Shore Invitational!

Turning Around and Around

Have you ever taken an IQ test post elementary school? Where you'd actually remember it?

If you have, you'll remember those spacial recognition parts, especially those where the letters are turned around and you are supposed to recognize them anyway.

I must have missed those brain cells. That's my weakest part.

Today's crossword was really hard for me, as a result.

Great theme. But, to get certain clues, you had to write the answers in letters that would spell the correct answer if you turned the answer a certain way.

Talk about almost impossible for me!

My tongue was sticking out, I was thinking so hard on those clues.

The rest was pretty easy. But the theme! Ack. I've got to practice more.

For what, I don't know. Who takes IQ tests, anyway? Why should I care?

Argh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel like a fizzing bundle of TNT! Like in the cartoons, spitting sparks, warning of an imminent blowup!

Except, not being a squishy creature with nerve bundles, TNT cannot feel pain. Stupid limits to anthropomorphizing inanimate objects!

Otherwise, besides these glaring differences, I feel EXACTLY like a sore bundle of lit TNT. I know that I'm not really supposed to be doing any excersize, except walking. And my foot is still bruised, sore, and a bit swollen from the race on Sunday, so too much walking is out.

But what do I do with myself? I'm even snapping at my cat!

At least I get to give back some exams today to a class whose members have totally been slacking on doing their work......That might salve the irritation and anxiety for a while........Righteous indignation is always a good, if temporary, balm.

Any suggestions for things to do? I'm supposed to take off until at least Saturday!

Heh. If you were my keyboard, you'd 'know' (if keyboards could know anything, which you likely think is implausible unless you are someone like Armstrong) that I'm already modifying my declaration that I would rest. I erased 'Sunday' and put in 'Saturday'. That might turn into Friday...........

I'd take up something extreme, like pole dancing, but tight hamstrings does not a positive pole-dancing experience make, I'd wager. Plus, there's the whole dancing on a pole thing.........

Help!

The New York Marathon

Or, how Younger, Faster, Taller Blondes Keep You on Your Toes.

Sitting there, shivering in the half-open tent in the Local Competitive area for almost 4 hours before the start, I chatted with Dancer, tried to avoid conversation with a really chatty woman next to us (unsuccessfully) and tried to do the crossword (also unsuccessfully: see the second comment). Well, I was barely shivering. Against all my anti-throw away tendencies, I had brought 2 towels, a comforter and a mini blanket to the start, as well as multiple layers of checkable clothes and throwaways.

"But I had to get rid of that old, 1980's sweatshirt with the paint stain that you lent me!" I was actually heard to exclaim into my phone when talking to my dad later that night. He laughed at me. "There are more where that came from!"

So, we're sitting there and I'm also trying to plot my race. But here's the thing: I didn't really have clear-cut goals for this race. Which is really weird for me. I might not tell people that I've got a clear-cut goal but I always do. Sure, I have lots of other goals:

Get to the Start
Finish
Finish under 4:30
Finish under 4:00

Etc.

But those are ancilliary goals, ones that will comfort me if/when I miss my actual goal - after all, by my reckoning (and I'm the only person that would really know!) I only hit my real goal about 40% of the time or less.

Sure, wild ideas would pass through my head: maybe I'd get wings and magically run under 3 hours! But those flitted through lik the ephemera they were.

I had wristbands for 3:10, 3:15 and 3:20. 3:10 was to show that I was going too fast. 3:20 was to show that I was in trouble and ought to stop looking at the wristbands. I used to always love wristbands: why, I don't know, because I can't actually read them very well during the race. After Phoenix, though, I've found the best thing is large print and Sharpie (or some other indellible marker) down the arm. But I was afraid I'd never see my arm in this race, as it was so cold. So I wore wristbands.

But I didn't even look at them to see what splits I needed beforehand. I was oddly sanguine about the whole thing. Which is quite unlike me.

Then the Speedy Blonde bopped by, after having spent most of the morning with Out West in the Blue tent. We start talking. Sometime between Dancer and I dropping off our bags and the Speedy Blonde and I huddling over our knees on the curb in the corral (ok: I was the only one who was huddling. Did I mention that I HATE the cold?! Warm-weather races only for me, here on out!) I had heard the following words come out of my mouth:

"Ok. So I think I'll start the race with you. After all, I can always drop back when you start going too fast for me."

Was I crazy?! This woman just did at 1:27 half on a hilly course, something that could only happen in my dreams for the time being. I was going to run with the woman who has smoked me by minutes on every single race we've started together during the past year?!

I chalk it up to hunger. My oatmeal at 4:00am was not cutting it at 9:30am. Even though I had been carbo-loading and not really exercising for the past several days. My stomach must have stretched.

We get up onto the bridge. I actually took some of my throw-aways up there, much to my shame. NYRR claims that they do not donate those clothes left on the bridge. But it was so cold! I try to stay warm and pretend I don't need to pee. Directly in front of us is the Speedy Blonde and I's nemesis - in nastier moments, we've called her many names. Let's just say she's always dressed in fancy running clothes - her throwaways were things that I would love to own - and she's always super ridiculously tan and really, really skinny. She runs with the same guy all the time. I was running by her for the first part of last year's marathon and I see her at almost every single NYRR race that I do. She always cuts the course like no one's business. Oh, and she likely doesn't know that the Speedy Blonde and I exist. Much like the rivalry between the Orioles and the Yankees, it is woefully one-sided.
So, we're behind our nemesis, I'm trying not to think about how much I need to pee, and I'm trying to stretch and not think about the race when the gun goes off, 5 minutes late. I had taken the time to take an extra puff of my inhaler, even though I had taken a single puff a half hour before. Boy was I glad of that during the race! What luck, me being as paranoid as I am about getting an asthma attack on the course!
We start running on the lower part of the Verizano. A bit of a shame: we started on the top last year and the view was better - of what I could see of it. I'm not wearing my glasses, as usual. I prefer the blurry haze of a glamour shot. The Vaseline lens makes everything look better, even the mile markers that say that you've got some ridiculous amount of distance to go.
The Speedy Blonde helps me out on the bridge by slowing us down. I tend not to look at my watch except for at half hour or hour splits and, as a result, often let my adrenalin push me too much on the first mile or two. The cross-wind on the bridge makes my legs numb almost immediately. Avoided all pee coming off of the top of the bridge.
As was the rule during the first 3/4 of the race, I go faster downhill than the Speedy Blonde. Not because she couldn't go as fast but because these tired old legs have to make up distance somewhere. Might as well be on the downhills.
Now we're in Brooklyn. My hat is off and I'm figuring where to throw it and my gloves where someone might be able to pick them up. Decide on a water station and throw them, feeling regretful because it was a new orange Dunkin Donuts hat that was even awesomer than the old one. I consol myself that I've got a pink one now, too, and kept running with only another couple twinges of regret. We merge with the other colored starts and there is a mass of people, both running around us and cheering for us on the sidelines. There were only about 4 times that I smelled someone smoking - usually a cigar - on the course and, for that, I was grateful.
Our first dedicated fans yelled for us on 4th Avenue in Park Slope. Then there was a succession. Suave in Fort Greene, jumping up and down. The Vivacious Redhead and the Urban Planner, with kids, screaming their heads off. I managed to smile and wave at both of these sets of cheerers. This was before I got into that weird headspace where I hear almost no one, consciously.
The Speedy Blonde and I are still together! And the miles seem to be going in a blur. I can't tell you much about the race, itself, in this part, except the course felt like a friend I hadn't seen in a while. I seemed to remember just after the face that I had run this particular part last year, or that there was a turn right......here.
Around mile 9, though we had been pretty good at avoiding the slant in the road, my right knee starts hurting. I ignore it for a while. After all, around mile 5, the left part of my back seized up and I ran through it. But then the knee gets worse. By about mile 11, I've had several stabbing pains in it. I try to get onto the flattest part of the road. "Once we stop going downhill, it'll get better", I told myself. Meanwhile, I was praying that I wouldn't have to drop out. I don't know whether it resigned itself or I just blocked out the pain but it only flared up a couple more times before the last 2 miles. And by the last 2, I was finishing, no matter what. It was cold!
Near Williamsburg, my race was almost finished. Someone in a wheelchair and their escort - neither in the race - decide to cross right in front of me and the Speedy Blonde, and about 100 other people. "Excuse us!" they said. I had to do a crazy side-stepping leap to avoid them, as there was no way I was going to stop in time. They stepped out about 2 feet in front of me! Ack!
We haven't seen the nemesis in a while. After passing my awesome colleague - who made a sign! - in Williamsburg, I was feeling charged up and ready for the race to the half-way mark. Then, we see the nemesis.
Maybe she DOES know who we are, at least a little bit. We heard her partner remark, as we pass her, "you'll catch up with them later in the race."
Or not! Heh.
Ok. That was a bit mean. But what are nemeses for, except to be not-so-secretly happy when you pass them?!
I had pushed my arm warmers down by this time. I was already in that weird headspace where I was committed to my clothing choices, even though there was a serious cross-wind during much of the rest of the race, and much of it was in the shade. I could - and likely should - have pulled them back up but I didn't. I used them as phlem-catchers, instead. (Gross!) But I think my legs were so cold in those cross-breezes that it didn't matter what was on my arms so much.
I got a huge lift, crossing the halfway point. Turning to the Speedy Blonde, I asked if we were behind pace.
We HAD to be behind pace. I was keeping up, after all!
"No. We're actually ahead by 10 seconds."
What?! I decide to keep running with her for a while more.
More blur. I remember the bridges because they were cold and because I would run a bit ahead on the downhills. By this time, we had picked up a small man with a Mexican flag singlet on who would be racing us for much of the rest of the way. Getting down over the Queensboro and into Manhattan, I felt another surge - likely due to the crowd.
Plus, I was nervous. Miles 16-19 are usually my hardest, psychologically. I tend to slow down here, thinking that I'll never get to the finish, otherwise, or that I'll hit 'the wall'.
But the Speedy Blonde didn't slow down. So I kept going. She saved me on this part of the race. Following her was hard at a couple of points, though, because her students came down to cheer her on. Every time we passed someone who was cheering for her, she sped up. Oi! I was tired!
I had to be careful of the uneven pavement at this point. I was barely picking up my feet and almost tripped myself a couple of times, trying to finish off that fall I almost took in Williamsburg.
Once we hit about mile 20, the Speedy Blonde says "I think I'm going to slow down a bit. Go ahead if you want."
I slow down a bit, too. But not that much. And I can see her right behind me, if not beside me, for much of this stretch.
But here's where I can push it. Once we pass that magical 20, and if I haven't already hit the wall, my homing device kicks in. We're almost done!
This is when I also start concentrating on my form, and concentrating on people in front of me, trying to pick them off one by one.
Others are slowing, slowing more than us, which gives me a huge psychological boost.

Plus, I know the Speedy Blonde is right behind me.

I am so inside my own head right now that I miss Story Finder and friends screaming their heads off at me about 2 feet away. I only find out later.

Throughout the hill on 5th ave, I work on passing women who look like they are in my age group. Then we are in the park and I pretend we only have 2 miles to go. It works, even though it's a lie.

Cheering. My legs twinging as if they are going to seize. Blurry fall colors. I look at the singlets in front of me and the banners up above.

We're out of the park. Going up to Columbus Circle. A mile left. Which felt like a huge distance for a bit. When we see 1/2 mile to go, I despair. But then I see they've also marked it in meters. I concentrate on the meters. 800 to go. 400 to go. 300 to go. I pass two women but they get motivated and pass me back. I try to pick up the pace but my legs are so tired. I wait for the anticipated and inevitable. At 200 meters, it happens. The blonde ponytail swinging in the wind, the Speedy Blonde passes me. She always does have that kick!
If I had it, I'd use it. I'm proud that I came in only 4 seconds behind her.
For the first time in a long time, my legs were too tired to sprint while my lungs were, if not ok, ok enough that I don't dry heave and almost puke going over the finish line.
I'm also proud of that. Especially since, as the Speedy Blonde pointed out later, "You were hacking up a lung the whole race!"
Asthma and cold weather don't go so well together. The phlegm was thick and ever present during the run. I actually almost choked on it a couple of times.
Yes, gross. But you are reading a running story. If there weren't a gross element, it wouldn't ring true-to-life!
I thanked the Speedy Blonde for the race and we hobbled off, chatting with another woman who we had seen just in front of us for most of the marathon.
Boy was I cold. And glad that was over with! I'm hapy not to run this whole week.
I know that the lower-numbered bibs have their bag pickups furthest away to prevent logjams but I was definitely grumbling as I walked all the way up to 88th street, freezing.
Although the walk was likely good for me.
Over to the school PPTC rented for some much-needed hot cocoa and a change of clothes, then off to brunch.
I ate myself almost sick on mac and cheese. Leading up to the race, I wasn't eating cheese, trying to help out my lungs. They are not happy this morning- nor is my stomach - but I don't care.
I don't have to run in the cold today!
I couldn't have done it without you, Speedy Blonde!
3:08:04, I think......

Last Run before the Marathon!

Rain gave way to gusty overcastness as I headed out to meet the Vivacious Redhead for a quick run and some coffee.

We ran up and down the side of the park, then got ourselves over to Milk Bar, where I 'carbo-loaded'. Heh.

With butterflies and a scratchy throat, I then headed over to the expo with Ivy League. Managed to get in and out in 45 minutes. Which is quite a feat.

That place is crazy! I'm so glad I didn't go today.

Today, forcing myself to do work, knowing that I likely won't do any tomorrow. It's hard, with all these nerves and extra energy.

It's weird how I can get nervous, even knowing that I won't have that great of a time, given my in-shapeness. Me and my vivid imagination........

Just read about those women who get to start with the elites. Sure, they run the whole course pretty much by themselves. But they get to start with the elites. And there's likely more cheering! If only I could shave 20 minutes off of my best time.........

Nerves