A Ray of Sunshine!

The Vivacious Redhead and I enjoyed the brief appearance of the sun yesterday.

What a great release. Sun on my head and energy in my legs.

Too much energy in my legs!

The rest of the day had been spent waiting for a serviceman.

The type who will only call once and won't ring the doorbell.

The kind that makes you sit by the window and watch, like an old nosy neighbor or a sailors wife, back in the olden.

Who never actually came, by the way. Try number four (4!) is now scheduled for next week.

But the run was fantastic! Up to GAP and around the inside, then the outside of the park before trundling home.

The park was amazingly well-plowed. Flatbush, not so much.

And the intersections are still hairy.

But it was beautiful for half of it. The hat even came off and the two jackets were unzipped.

And then the Millrose Games! Seeing high school stars and professionals do short-track indoor races made even me want to do speed work!

And I have to be forced to do speed work, usually by being chased!

Wow. So glad i had run ten earlier. Otherwise, I might have started doing stairs right in the middle of Madison Square Garden.

Weird that so few people seemed to share my excitement: the stands were maybe a quarter full.....

Brutal

The day

The run

Bad news stress and self pity

Blowing winds slushy roads and hail

Ran to meet Ivy League yesterday, in a rather ill-fated run

Outside of the park, with a brief and unsuccessful foray to Ocean Parkway, then back around the rest of the park and down part of Eastern

Footing was really bad and the toes went numb from the unavoidable slushy water

Had to stop several times because of random ripping stomach cramps

Is it worth it to run on these sort of days?

We did get to go to Tom's Restaurant and get pancakes!

Delicious

Then I trundled home, half-running half-sliding on the icy slushy snow

About seven or so sluggish miles

Maybe it was worth it for the pancakes? And the smiles?

A Marshmallow River

"Just wait until 10:10," Suave said.

Whatever. I knew no one was coming. And I couldn't feel my face.

I compromised by waiting until 10:07 and then shuffled off down Mt. Auburn.

No student was going to come out in 14 degree weather to go on a Sunday morning run with someone they didn't know, emails about accomplishments or no emails about accomplishments.

I still couldn't feel my jaw.

I warmed up a bit running down Mass Ave but, once over the bridge, my hat was doing nothing to keep the icy wind from attacking my scalp.

My head started to hurt. I decided to cut my losses and turn around, shortening the run to a bit over 4 miles, with some intervals on the way back.

Slacker.

But the river: amazing! It's been frozen solid. With the foot of snow on top, it looks like a river of marshmallow gooeyness.

Yum. Makes me hungry thinking about it.

The Reason Why There Aren't Many Smart People in the World

They do things like this: run in a traffic lane, in the same direction as traffic over the Mass Ave Bridge, wearing full-ear headphones.

She was clearly either a Harvard or an MIT student, the top 1% academically of the entire United States. Yet she was doing this.

"Ok." I thought. "There is snow on the sidewalk over the bridge. Maybe it's just to avoid slipping."

Because slipping is so much worse than being hit by a refridgerator truck.

But, no. She continued running in the now single lane of traffic on into Boston.

She didn't even look one direction as she was running through intersections on the "don't walk" light, much less two.

I'm glad I'm not that smart.

That got me thinking about smart people. There's a philosopher - arguably one of the most influential philosophers of the 20th century - who writes amazing and ground-breaking papers yet who, alledgedly, can't find his way home by himself.

It's as if so much focus is devoted to one thing that other parts of the person atrophy.

Like common sense.

Trundled over the bricks and through the icy intersections to brave the bridge and Boston proper, before turning around.

The slight incline on the way back to Cambridge on Mass Ave is a nice way to end a run. The last 3 miles are all uphill.

Now for push-ups. And brain exercises. Maybe I can get as smart as the girl that I saw running.

There's hope. I do wear headphones running, after all.

I'm Glad I Made It

Where's Alabama when you need it?

When I'm cold, I like to look at the weather of places that I've lived and then wonder why I ever moved.

Auburn is having a cold snap today: the high will be a mere 49.

Meanwhile, NY is advertising a high of 24 and Boston might hit 20.

Sigh.

What's not to like about Auburn, anyway?
1. There are a lot of chains, so you know exactly what kind of food you will be getting.
2. It's pretty awesome that it is the only school in the country with not one, not two but THREE mascots! The War Eagle, the Plainsmen and the Tiger.
3. Pink Dockers never went out of style there.
4. You know almost everyone by sight.
5. It's hard to get lost.
6. If you were ever to find yourself really hungry and penniless, there's always a plethora of road kill, including tortoise and armadillo. How's that for exotic eats?!
7. You know where your ants and cockroaches are at all times because they are ginormous. Everything is bigger in the South.


I could go on but I keep coming back to the whol 49 degrees thing. Tomorrow, it's supposed to be 54 there. Sigh.

Instead, I will be attempting an icy run in 15 degree weather. On a river.

I need a new regular run in Boston.

Yesterday, though, I'm glad I took a break from work to take a solo mid-day run.

Not that I didn't try for company but the combo of the Manhattan Half, the weather, and peoples' training schedules prevented me from finding a running partner.

I even posted on Facebook, to no avail.

I wonder if everyone has been meaning to have an intervention with me......like....

"I'm sorry but you just need to know this. You smell. We can't keep running with you if you stay like this. We can't be your enabler."

Heh. To which I'd respond

"You smell, too!"

Nice Tu Toque fallacy there for you!

Anyway, on came the shoes - the old ones because of the ice and snow and slush - and out the door went me.

The run started off unpromisingly. Eastern Parkway was plowed but the intersections were such a mess that, at the first one, I had to suffer the feet-freezing dirty ice water surrounding the curb.

I really don't want to know what was in the water that had, by then, coated my feet. There's usually an ugly oily dark sheen to it. Bleg.

And I couldn't keep up my heart rate because, at every intersection, I had to stop and pick my way carefully around all the wintery obstacles. Which also made this part quite chilly. Especially with the ever-present wind on Eastern Parkway. Stupid 19th century urban planning.

Anyway, I thought about going around the outside of the park but worried about the ice. From later reports, it sounded like the better route.

Inside, the on-ramp to the loop was icy and slippery. Again, I had to stop and pick my way into the park. Once in the park, though, there was enough snow on the running lane that the footing wasn't too bad.

I definitely do not want to see what it looks like today! It got warm enough to melt some of the snow yesterday. No more salt trucks and 15 degrees makes for leg-breaking conditions!

Slowing in parts because of the ice slicks, I jogged my way around the park. There were a few other joggers. I spent most of my time trying to catch them and then pass them.

It wasn't hard. I think I was in the park during the 'slow lane' hours.

Or, I was just being idiotic because of the poor footing.

Pushed it up the hill. Though, as I was wheezing up it, how much I need more hill work.

Then remembered I wasn't supposed to be pushing anything.

I love it when one's health is an excuse to be lazy!

"I would TOTALLY do that all-hill run with you today. Sounds like a blast! Especially the part about puking at the top. But, you know, my doctor.......Otherwise, I'd be in."

Heh.

Pushing it up the hill was the only real excersize I got. The way back home was, again, an exercise in frustration with the intersections.

Stupid winter.

I want to go back to where, on warm summer days, you are sitting in the one bar in town and, where, amid the chatter and the brightly colored polos, you might hear such gems as "War F-ing Eagle!" and "I'm soooo drunk, y'all!"

Plus, fried pickles. Fried everything, actually.

And no one ever bothers you when you are running or walking because they think you are either homeless or crazy.

Ah. Those were the days.

PPTC Awards Shindig

As my father would say, "Well, that wasn't terrible."

Whew. For a while, the Vivacious Redhead and I were convinced it might be.

Though that might have been a bonus for us. If I had gone terribly, at least we wouldn't be asked to arrange it next year.

Starting at 9:30am, the day was all about PPTC.

I jogged out to meet the Vivacious Redhead at GAP, where we headed back to Washington Ave.

We had a mission.

We were going to pick up awards.

I, myself, don't see the use of awards - at least, not the physical memento.

Getting them is nice. If the award involves a trip or money, I'd imagine it would be fantastic to receive.

But golden bowls or large towers?

I resent items in my house that are impossible to dust. My hobo box and my trophies are resented.

At least the hobo box represents a piece of Americana and, arguably, is art.

The plastic and marble columns are not. Definitively. They do not give me any culture!

But, lots of people like them. So the Vivacious Redhead and I came up with a compromise:

Plaques.

At least they can fit in a drawer. And who knows when you might have a sudden need to prove, tangibly, that you were, in fact, the PPTC "Comeback Runner of the Year, 2010"?

Except no one could do that because we eliminated that award this year.

But you get the idea.

So we picked our way over to the awards shop. Down Washington to Empire, then onto Bedford and down Bedford until Avenue T. Avenue T to Ocean Avenue, then down to U. Down U all the way across Ocean Parkway - an area with which I am not at all familiar.

The run itself was bit irritating. Every time we were able to pick up a bit of speed, again the sidewalk would be covered in ice, or the curb would have a ginormous dirty, icy puddle that we'd have to maneouver around. Not even sure my heartrate went above 120 on that run.

Then, the trophy shop. Piles of knicknacks and boxes and papers everywhere.

Clearly not a walk-in sort of business.

"Hi, I was just strolling by and felt compelled to buy a "Best Player 2010" Trophy. You know: the one with the golden mitt that encircles the generic boy in a vaguely pitching stance. Yeah, that's the one! I'll take two!"

Em. No.

Despite the shop, the owner was fantastic. After checking at least 3 times that we REALLY DIDN'T WANT bowls or some other type of trophy, he designed some nice, simple, SMALL plaques for the awards.

Which we ported back to Park Slope on the subway.

Flash forward to the evening. Script written for the awards.

Complete with awesome jokes with which I wowed the crowd.

Ok. Ok. I laughed, anyway.

Over to Abigail's. Home of some of the best mac 'n' cheese in NYC.

Yes. I said it. Because it's true.

And I should know. I'm a connoissuer.

Some people are wine experts. Some are cheese experts. Some can shoot a dime flipping in the air one-handed from 50 paces. (My great great uncle could apparently do that. From his hip.)

I know my mac 'n' cheese.

Baked, with a bit of crust and, yet, still gooey. Fantastic smoked flavor.

Made with, among other things, Gruyere.

Yes. Delicious.

But I digress. The party.

People came. Food got eaten. Awards were given out. Wine and beer were served.

One thing that's nice about runners: they arrive on time and leave right when they are supposed to. Makes organizing much easier.

Maybe Chicken Underwear would post some pictures?

Brownies, wine and mac 'n' cheese. Made being the MC bearable.

So much easier than organizing a party at my house. There, I didn't have to do the dishes!

There was even a celebrity political appearance.

Too bad I had to admit to everyone IN PUBLIC that the Speedy Blonde beat me by 4 seconds in the last NYC marathon.

Sigh. That still burns my onion.