Figure Eights

Whee!

Several people were going to brave the 10 degree weather yesterday morning.

I was not one of them.

Instead, I ran with Superman at noon. Much more civilized.

And a balmy 24!

Is it possible that one's procrastination and anxiety can fill one's legs with heaviness?

The cold affects me, sure. And I'm not in the best of shape, especially with the extra pounds.

But I haven't been running that much. And we weren't going that fast during the first half of the run.

Still, my legs felt heavy, like I had been doing a lot of miles, or speedwork, or something.

And, yet, my lungs - often my Achille's heel - felt fine.

What a great guy to run with. So much fun.

While my legs felt bad, the first figure eight went by quickly. Lots of politics to talk about.

Then, faced with a deadline, we opted to run a full loop for the next, instead of another figure eight.

And we kept speeding up.

Boy, that was rough at the end.

Not 800's on the track rough, or anything. But a good reminder that I haven't gone remotely fast in a while.

And I'm not supposed to be. So, in penance, I decided to take the train.

Then I remembered: there was no train.

The walk home was so cold, I had to huddle in bed for the rest of the day to get warm.

Next time, I'm trundling. Sure it's more miles but getting hypothermia can't be good either.

About 9 miles running and 1 1/2 miles walking.

Need to get motivated. And get another hobby!

Speaking of hobbies, must post about Sunday's crossword. Puns. My favorite.

The Subway Made Me Do It!

I am not the most patient of people.

And, did I mention, I hate the cold?

This morning started auspiciously. Sun shining, in that way where, while still half-asleep, you mistake January for June.

Ran out to meet Gorgeous at a civilized hour: didn't have to meet her until 9:00am.

Ran a relaxing loop of the park. My calf didn't hurt and I wasn't as tired as I've been on runs recently.

Plus, the company and conversation made the loop go quickly.

And, affirmation!

"Did you notice", I remarked to Gorgeous at the end of the loop, before heading to coffee, "that even though we were going slowly, we were still passing people? Doesn't that make you realize how far you've come?"

Ok. More of a self-affirmation. She didn't really understand what I was talking about.

Not all of us were track stars! Heh.

After coffee, my newly-resolved moderate self shivered her way to the Grand Army Subway station.

Sure, I could run back. And it would likely take the same time as the subway.

But I had run almost 5 miles. With the longer-than-allowed run yesterday, and knowing I'd likely violate orders tomorrow with an intense run with Superman, I resolved to wait.

Patience.

Then I saw the sign. "No Brooklyn-bound trains this stop. For Brooklyn Service, take the 2,3,or 4 to Atlantic and transfer to a Brooklyn-bound train."

Argh! I had been away long enough that I forgot about the weekend service issues on the 2 and 3!

I had to talk myself down from the ledge, figuratively speaking.

"No. Wait here. Sure it will take longer but think how cold it is! You only have to wait 7 minutes for the next Manhattan-bound train. Plus, you promised!"

As I stood there with my shoulders in my ears, trying to keep warm, the cold factor was weighing against waiting. Plus, it would now take much longer for me to get home than if I were running.

But I held firm.

Patience.

Got to Atlantic. Figured out the Brooklyn-bound track. Waited for the train. Only 3 minutes this time.

It was a 4. I'd have to transfer again at Franklin.

"Just get on this train. It will be warmer. You can do it! Just wait. Why rush?"

The pep talk was getting less and less effective. It had now taken me almost half an hour to get to a point 10 minutes away, running-wise.

Standing in Franklin station, I was now convulsively shivering.

I squinted up at the sign. Brooklyn-bound 3: 9 minutes. Brooklyn-bound 2:7 minutes.

And this is a wide-open station. The wind from Eastern Parkway gusts through the tunnels, gaining force from the swoop underground.

Patience.

ACTUALLY, FORGET PATIENCE!

Spinning around, I walked briskly over to the exit and started a trundle home. A total of about 40 minutes to get to my house, a mile and a half from where I started. Sheesh.

There went the resolution about the run today. I went more like 5 1/2 or so.

The train made me do it!

At least the calf still feels good. I'm tired, though.

Re-evaluate tomorrow's run? Maybe.

But I've also got a lot of work to productively put off.

Speaking of, on to the crossword.

Patience. Overrated?

Reunion

Finally! I got to run with the group this morning.

I wasn't supposed to run more than an hour. Oops!

I felt it afterwards. Ran with Roll Call for the majority of the run. LSE came from out of nowhere near Atlantic Avenue and joined us for the bridge and back to the park.

Yes, it was one of the usuals. I'd be peeved except for the snow and ice.

Plus, it's been three weeks since I've run the Brooklyn Bridge. So it's become unusual again.

Also chatted with some new girls. Both really cute. Maybe PPTC is regaining some of the cuteness it lost with the several recent moves!

Didn't even feel the weather, thanks to my ridiculous number of layers. Got in some tempo over the bridge.

Then I slowed down again. I'm really not supposed to be doing that and it's so easy to forget when I am with running buddies and a deceptively sunny sky.

I even got to shop on Nostrand this afternoon. I've decided that carrying heavy groceries from almost Atlantic back to my house counts as arm work!

Heh.

Got in about 11. Shhh, don't tell!

It really put a smile on my face. I'd forgotten the importance of running with a group of people.

That and a great clue in a not-so-bad Saturday crossword: rifle shot, so to speak......line drive

Heh

Go Ravens! Too bad my cat can't cheer along with me.

Back at the Beach?

Was I transported? Maybe to Jamaica?

I've never been to Jamaica but I've seen the advertisements for its white sand beaches.

And my feet felt like they might be stuck in some of that soft sand.

Slipping, sliding, arms gyrating to keep balance.

And my poor abs: they were not getting the rest usually alloted to them!

After a bit, my toes announced that we were not, in fact, in Jamaica.

Unless Jamaica has changed latitudes drastically.

Wet and starting to tingle, these poor toes were a motivation to keep going, however much I wanted to slow down and walk.

Interesting how little ground I actually traversed in a 45-minute out and back. I didn't get nearly as far as I usually would, even going a fairly slow pace. Would I have gone faster walking?

Likely not but the comparison is not too far off the mark.

The effort put into this run seemed significantly greater than the effort I've been putting into my other mini-runs, as I like to call them now.

Seems strange that these will be my regular runs for the forseeable future.

Maybe there will be a lot of snow. That way, I can claim I'm being careful because of the ice.

And I won't have to downgrade myself to the unthinkable:

A jogger

A Different Route?

You'd think, running this little, I wouldn't get bored.

Welcome to S-ville: although I claim I'm not high-maintanence!

I think some of my friends would disagree. Perhaps with some justification!

Though one is still allowed to have temper tantrums when one is in one's 30's, right?

Right?

I pulled on my shoes and tried not to pull my super-tight hamstrings (ouch, was that first half mile painful!) as I headed out the door for some more scenic Charles running.

Flat out-and-backs, no matter how beautiful, are still ho-hum after a while.

The more unattractive, urban, gritty runs hold my attention longer.

Beautiful is beautiful, to a certain extent. Unattractive is unattractive in so many ways! And hints of beauty come through the dirty paper napkins and chicken bones, making them more note-worthy.

Unlike yet another beautiful curve to the river, or yet another water fowl arching through the air.

Of course, if I only had boringly unattractive, I'd be wishing on many stars for the beautiful.....

(Remembering parts of Alabama. Ugh. Though road kill is interesting in its own way, I suppose.)

So I need to find some good, short (5-6 mile) routes around Boston and Cambridge. Will have to bring out the trusty map and written directions while running again!

This time around, though, I'll stop while examining it. Those light poles and people come out of nowhere, I swear!

I exagerate for effect. There definitely are parts of the river run that are interestingly beautiful. Like the cattails next to the knotty trees across from Harvard, with mere fleeting glimpses of the iced-over river.

Which made me think, today, about the Chestershire Cat. Another person who had an amazing year!

How often does one get to move to another interestingly beautiful place, near to family?

And have a solid running year? And buy a house?

That last part is something I'm especially in awe of, living in the rent-sucking place that I do.

I was lucky enough to get to see her new town when I went out for a race on the West Coast.

Oh, and I threw a temper tantrum. But she's a good enough friend not to mind too much.

Not that she won't tease me about it!

The highlights are what make life interesting. If everything was boringly beautiful, where would the interest lie? I think that the Chestershire Cat, like Ivy League, Gorgeous, the Vivacious Redhead and Story Finder, had a year where finding those interesting dormer windows on that house in Bed-Stuy made it worth running through all those dirty paper napkins and chicken bones on Fulton Street.

It's like finding that sun spot hidden in the dark brambles.

Maybe one of the reasons that I tend to forget the negative, after a while. It's what makes the interestingly beautiful so interesting. Why fret over that which is essential?

At least long term, that's what I think. Short term, I worry about everything.

Enough cheesy card dialogue. The Chestershire Cat would rightly make fun of me for that, too.

I think we all miss her.

2010 was an interesting year.

Now to worry about 2011!

Should I Attempt to Change My Personality?

Looking at others' blogs, especially those of people I know, is one of my favorite things.

Even if you ran all or most of those runs with them, the perspective gained in reading how they experienced the run is one of an overlapping reality: a possible world near to the actual (your own) but not the actual, itself.

(For those who did not get the joke, you clearly chose well and didn't specialize in philosophy. For those who did get the joke, I gave you a joke to console you in your career choice!)

Reading tobadwater and hillsaremyfriends, especially scrolling through the posts and looking at their respective years in hindsite, impressed me.

"Wow. Perhaps because of the struggles, these two have had pretty incredible years. Life-wise and running-wise."

5k personal bests. Mile personal bests. Marathon exultations.

Even more importantly, the mental toughness to persevere through those nightmare races.

Which made me think of others. The Vivacious Redhead in Phoenix, when she twisted her ankle and started walking in the second half of the race?

Who starts running again after that? I would have sent myself to medical and gotten a cushy ride over to the finish.

But she did.

Or Ivy League, with a complete carbohydrate bonk during the second half of the NYC marathon, who finished anyway.

Who also, I noticed, placed first for PPTC runners in quite a few races this year.

(I've been procrastinating and looking at race results instead of doing the research I need to do. Drat this job that requires me to be self-motivated!)

Or Story Finder, who started running only a bit over a year ago, who runs two to three days a week, and who can beat me on a Central Park loop.

And I'm not THAT slow.

Enough sappiness. I can't change my personality THAT much!

"Why not look at your own stats?" I thought.

I didn't look at all of them. I conveniently forgot about those bad races, those asthma attacks from lack of speedwork and the resulting weak lungs, those horrific runs where I was the slowest person, having to imagine a rope around someone's waist to drag me, just to claw my way near the rest.

I looked at the stats that I put up on the side of my blog.

Now, I hadn't raced-really raced-all of those distances before.

So not all are great acheivements - the JFK run was my 3rd 5K ever. The first was a bit over 25 minutes, the second was 20 something (was it aided or harmed by the major party the night before?)

But, in the stats, I see: 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010

I'm proud of that.

Plus, I'm great at forgetting the bad stuff! That's why I don't re-read my own blog.

Maybe this is the peak, the golden moment that I'll wish for in my later years, like the old high-school football players past their prime, bellies straining at their vanity-sized pants.

Eek! Too close to home right now! Especially since I'm not supposed to actually train.

I am now filled with anxious nervousness and a sense of panic.

I can't change my personality THAT much, after all!

I think I need a run.

Doctor's Orders!

I love Santa Barbara! It's one of my new favorite cities.

The Shangri La hotel in LA is now my new favorite hotel. Right off of Ocean, with gorgeous views. Clearly a hotel that used to be a dump but has been newly renovated.

Art Deco, in the way that I might decorate a hotel. Lovely.

Why, might you ask, did I wait until today, in the freezing weather of Boston, to go out for my first run in 8 days? When I had all of the beauty of LA and Santa Barbara at my fingertips previously?

Doctor's orders. Due to my calf strain and some other issues, I have been directed to gain some weight and cut down on running.

"A half hour a day or less would be ideal", she says.

Now the weight gain is no problem. Sitting on my butt and eating for 8 days has already pretty much taken care of that!

But the reduction in miles is hard. And returning to running has been hard, too. It's a weird nebulous area: why run at all if you are supposed to run that little?

A woman of extremes, I tend to be. Something I should work on for the new year?

Squished myself into my compression tights - a proposition after weight gain! - and ran this afternoon. Planned to flout the orders somewhat and run about 80 minutes.

However, the ice made me a good(ish) girl: I did about 55 minutes, instead. Ice and my coordination do not mix well.

So, 1/2 hour is really like an hour, right?

It had been so long since I had run, the start of the run was actually rather slow and painful. I felt the weight and I felt the tightness in my legs. My lungs also felt rusty.

The way back down the Charles, I felt better. Getting into a bit more of a groove, I even managed to pick it up on clear parts.

At least the Charles was beautiful. Ice on either side, with a channel cut through the middle for boats.

Aiming for balance.