Posts
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?"
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
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!
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.
"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......
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......
Monday, November 22, 2010
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!
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!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
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.
"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.
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.
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.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
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......
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......
Saturday, November 13, 2010
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'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!
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!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
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?
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?
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
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!
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!
Monday, November 8, 2010
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......
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......
Saturday, November 6, 2010
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
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
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
35 More MInutes
"Wow. The sun is amazing."
Running down Massachussets Ave. cheered me up. Just a quick out-and-back but I was moving, the sun was shining, and it wasn't as cold as it had threatened to be.
This week has been a bit rough. The weather changing. My mind going crazy. Things have not gone as they were planned.
And, as those of you who know me know, I am not a fan of surprises or things not going according to plan!
Ms. routine, I tend to be. When I'm not, I start nit-picking and obsessing.
Is there a way to learn to let this go? I have hopes I can when I am running. Then I stop. And it comes back.
Although maybe my brain is just trying to prevent me from grading.
I need lots of throw-aways for the race. It's going to be cold! And a game plan. I was feeling my calf a bit, again, at the end of this short run.
I'm chalking it down to tapering.
Nerves.
Running down Massachussets Ave. cheered me up. Just a quick out-and-back but I was moving, the sun was shining, and it wasn't as cold as it had threatened to be.
This week has been a bit rough. The weather changing. My mind going crazy. Things have not gone as they were planned.
And, as those of you who know me know, I am not a fan of surprises or things not going according to plan!
Ms. routine, I tend to be. When I'm not, I start nit-picking and obsessing.
Is there a way to learn to let this go? I have hopes I can when I am running. Then I stop. And it comes back.
Although maybe my brain is just trying to prevent me from grading.
I need lots of throw-aways for the race. It's going to be cold! And a game plan. I was feeling my calf a bit, again, at the end of this short run.
I'm chalking it down to tapering.
Nerves.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
35 Minutes
Or a bit more. What a weird amount of time to run! I'm just getting warmed up and it's already time to turn around! Beautiful day for getting outside, though. The sun sparking off the water was phenomenal.
A chance to take a break from grading and from my swirling mind.
Fingers crossed for Sunday. And for the week leading up to it.
A chance to take a break from grading and from my swirling mind.
Fingers crossed for Sunday. And for the week leading up to it.
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