Muy Majo Running

Birthday Run

2011-12-18T11:03:00.000-05:00

Lately it's been hard to get out the door to run. My hip has been acting up since the Turkey Trot and there's been chiropractor drama. As a result I've been in some pain even while just sitting around and walking. That combined with short cold days has made it very difficult for me to run regularly.

Sometimes when I'm not following a specific program if something goes wrong it becomes too easy to come up with reasons not to run. One day it's the throat. The next day it's the low temps. Then it's a faulty alarm clock. Or the rain. And before I know it, days go by and it gets harder and harder. I find it better to not think about whether to run, but just run.

But to switch that back on sometimes I need a reason to run. Without a race in the calendar, I found that reason in a birthday party brunch run.

It was my birthday yesterday and these lovely ladies helped me start celebrating my birthday right.

Birthday run, not in our birthday suits.

It was very cold and the loop felt rough. I felt very out of shape and almost can't believe how I managed the Jingle Bell Jog just last weekend. But it was great being out there with some of my favorite running buddies.

The plan started low key and grew naturally. I bumped into Jess while commuting and we both wanted to get together and run on a weekend and the first available weekend was my birthday. Then I met up with Lindsay at the Jingle Bell Jog. Add Jess and we had a party. The four of us hadn't run together since Summer Streets and I was very excited about running with them. Then a couple of days ago Samantha asked Linna and me if we wanted to go for a run that evening. That didn't work, but how about run & brunch?

Brunch not pictured. Gone. There was an amazing sweet potato waffle, though.

People who run in groups used to baffle me. When I started running part of what I loved about it was the simplicity of it. Lace up and go. Whenever, wherever. The idea of running with others and having to coordinate schedules, hurry to meet, wait for someone to show up, seemed like an unnecessary complication. One I most definitely did not want to deal with. I was happy to run alone.

What I didn't realize then was that running, like so many other things in life, becomes even better when enjoyed with good company.

Thank you for a lovely birthday!

NYRR Jingle Bell Jog Recap

2011-12-16T10:06:00.000-05:00

Runners looking fierce in their Jingle Jog best.

It's hard to take themed races seriously. Particularly one where runners wear jingles in their shoes. This was my third year running the NYRR Jingle Bell Jog in Prospect Park. The first year I ran it in icy weather in a snow man hat and knee high red socks with white trim.

I was very happy with my festive outfit combining form (cute hat and socks) with function (running top & tights.) Then I started running. The socks were uncomfortable and the puffy ball at the tip of my hat was not so fluffy as it bounced against my head with every step I took.

The second year I wore an elf hat which I'd stuffed high with packing paper so it wouldn't bounce against the back of my head. It rustled, but it allowed me to run. It also made me very easy to find since it stood about two feet high over my head. According to unsubstantiated reports, it looked very funny bobbing above the crowd as I ran.

This year I wanted a PR. I couldn't find my elf hat, so I wore the santa hat to the park but checked it before the race.

NYRR made PR'ing easy by changing the race from a 4M to a 6k. I didn't beat my Turkey Trot pace, but I did manage to beat my NYRR time and got under 9:00min/min. I'm excited about my next bib with a lower best time listed. That might be one of my favorite things about NYRR races - watching the listed best pace go down.

Another win: my brightroom photo. I've been working on my breathing and, through it, in perfecting a focused emotionless stare. Working on it.

See? Getting there!

Other fun stuff: got to hang out with Idiot Runner and Lindsay before the race, I got to say hi to Michelle during, got a post race bagel and a quick hello from Lauren, and brunch with Don after.

NYRR races for Jan-March are now open for registration so I got to register with my new and improved time. Unfortunately, since I waited until after I had a chance to lower them I got shut out of the Manhattan Half. So go sign up for races right away if you want to make sure you get your spots.

Sports Photography

2011-11-20T17:30:00.000-05:00

The inaugural Brooklyn Marathon was this morning. It was a lovely event with the feel of a local 5k. It was so good that I found myself wishing I'd run it.

Since my duties as a marshal did not keep me 100% occupied, I decided to multitask by trying to capture pictures of the amazingly badass Samantha as she ran the marathon. Samantha had run the Staten Island Half with me and managing to get the PR that eluded me. Then she ran the New York City Marathon on Nov 6th. Since that must have been a piece cake, she decided to run another marathon two weeks later.

The Brooklyn Marathon course was multiple loops of the park. Since she was set to run by my eight different times, I was sure I'd be able to get at least a good picture of her.

Here she comes, here she comes!

Go, Sam, go! She's on the left. Ok That was a little too far. Next loop I'll try to catch her closer.

Not Samantha. I waited too long to snap this one.

Then I tried to capture the PPTC posse. It was fun to cheer loudly whenever a PPTC member ran by but this group was particularly exciting. They were running in formation for the first few loops and they looked formidable.

Ok. They did look great. It's not my fault runner #245 blocked my view.

Then it was time to try to catch Samantha again.

There she is! On the far right. Still looking good on her nth loop.

There were several more attempts after that, but you get the idea. I did manage to get a picture of her where she's not only in the frame but also clearly visible. But that was after she was done running after having completed her second marathon PR in November.

Congratulations!

Read her recap here.

New York City Marathon

2011-11-08T11:09:00.000-05:00

It was the biggest and most fun block party in the city and not even a seriously compromised MTA scheduled would keep New York from mobilizing to cheer for its runners. I'd decided not to run it this year, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to participate.

First I'd be cheering, then running. Spectating on 1st Avenue where runners are starting to get tired but are still far from the finish line was inspiring. Strangers cheering for strangers. And then, I recognized some blue hair! It was Luau a fellow dailymiler. He stopped for a picture with my run twitter sign then went back to running.

I was cheering with a few members of our twitter book club, while cheering for other member of the same book club who were running. But cheering for the New York City Marathon is a needle in a haystack enterprise that fancy running tracking apps and congested networks haven't been able to conquer.

Most of the people I was hoping to cheer for must have run past me without my noticing. Fortunately I did manage to spot the one friend I was determined to find: Lizz. My dear Lizz. Running buddy, broomballer, fellow Ragnar and PPTC teammate and member of our local neighborhood brunching mafia was running her first marathon and I wanted to help.

I'd peeled off my outer layers until I was dressed as a runner, leaving my bag behind. When Lizz got to where we were I jumped onto the course and we ran/walked through Upper Manhattan and the Bronx and back to Manhattan. At some point deep in the Bronx when Central Park felt like an impossibly faraway place, Lizz said in a half whimper "this is hard."

If it were easy, everyone would do it, was my response.

Running with Lizz.

Back in Manhattan, Amy was able to catch me banditing with Lizz.

Check out Luau's video for a fun on the ground perspective of the New York City Marathon. Congratulations to everyone who ran yesterday!

A walk in the woods

2011-10-17T09:21:00.001-04:00

Running path

Sometimes it takes a walk to find a good run. I'd allowed myself to take a week to recover from the NYRR Staten Island Half. I've been biking instead and I've been allowing ideas of what's next to tumble freely in my head without coming up with a specific plan.

I'd been experiencing loop fatigue. It's a common ailment among city park runners and its most dangerous symptom is a reluctance to run.

I'd managed to avoid this last year while training for the ING New York City Marathon by staying away from running the main Prospect Park loop. Instead I'd come up with a variety of street routes. This year, as I work on developing a smooth pace, I've running most of my mileage on loops that don't include multiple corner stops, hopping over supermarket crates and dodging live chickens.

Unidentified mushrooms

Yesterday I went forging for mushrooms with Jess and though we didn't find what we were looking for, as we walked through Prospect Park exploring the ground I found myself seeing the park in a different way.

Everyone knows the Prospect Park time-space continuum expands when you're running through its backwoods. It turns out the same thing happens when you're walking. Though at first we didn't see any mushrooms. After while space expanded and we started seeing them everywhere and we found paths I'd never taken before. I was jealous of the runners on these paths.

Other unidentified mushrooms

I went out for mushrooms and came back with a run. I'm looking forward to finding that path by the water again on my run tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Staten Island Half Marathon

2011-10-16T17:30:00.000-04:00

Sunrise over Manhattan

This was the view at the start. Something faraway you could see only if you squinted through the fog. Like my PR.

I'd been training for what I knew was an ambitious PR - I was looking to knock twenty minutes off my half-marathon time. Between my first and my second half marathons I chewed up thirteen minutes and spit them out nonchalantly by the side of the road. I figured if I worked hard enough I could get close to a two-hour half. I'd worked hard and gotten faster; the weekend before the Staten Island Half I ran a 5k and bested my time by two minutes.

As I walked into the corral last Sunday I was listening to the muppets playing Mahna Mahna and was excited to run my best half to date. I was missing my training partner Lindsay who had gotten hurt and Samantha who had a ferry difficult time making it to Staten Island but when the corrals collapsed and we started to move, I was ready to roll.

Pacing is not my strong suit and I have a tendency to get carried away so I was trying to focus on not going faster than a 9:14min/mi pace, but also no slower than 9:30min/mi. I managed to sort of stick to that and was having a great time until about mile 8 when my stomach decided the race was over.

With a high sun on course with no shade, temperatures creeping up near 80 and my stomach being squeezed from the inside out, I decided to slow down for a couple of miles. I thought if I rested from miles 8-10 by going down to my easy pace I'd cool down, recover, then race the last 5k of the course and still get about a 2:05 for a fifteen minute PR.

Slowing down didn't do the trick. I felt my body was either going to explode or I was going to pass out if I kept running. So I started run/walking hoping I'd start feeling better and be able to go back to running. At around mile 10 Samantha passed me and urged me to join her, I waved her on and wished her luck (she went on to an amazing breakthrough PR). Later, a fellow PPTC member from my speed group joined me. I tried to keep up with her but after a few yards I knew that would not be possible.

Please let me get out of here before I puke.

For the first eight miles I'd managed to stay on target for the PR I wanted and had even managed be about a minute and half under. As I shuffled along I kept re-calculating and trying to make deals with myself. I was done racing, but if I could stick to my easy pace I could still finish with a decent time. C'mon! You can still shave 10min! You can do five! But doing the old lady shuffle was all I could handle without turning into sludge and even then I had to take walk breaks. By the time I approached the finish line and heard Jenn, another PPTC member, cheering for me I was starting to feel disoriented enough not to understand why she was calling me.

It took me two days to recover from the wicked race hangover I got from this.

My final time was 2:19:09 for a not too glorious 51second personal record.

It's a bittersweet new personal record. It's not the one I wanted but getting so sick in a race feels like a sort of accomplishment. Maybe it's a rite of passage, or maybe it's the knowledge that I gave it everything I could give it that day.

It also means I still have a huge record ahead of me. I'm looking forward to my next half-marathon and I plan to get to the starting line with the same Mahna Mahna energy.

Swagtastic

2011-10-02T17:47:00.009-04:00

The Liz Padilla Memorial 5k is one of my favorite races. It's for a good cause so it get points right there and it's in Prospect Park. Sure, not exactly a flat course but it's where I run weekly so I have the home team advantage. I know where the turns are, when to speed up, when to slow down, and Zoo hill doesn't scare me. It's debatable how much of an advantage it is to know a course that consists of a loop where you'd have to work very hard to get lost, but still.

Secondly, it's an under-advertised quirky race with a small field and it's beginner friendly. On the walk to the start line one teenager told another: "Dude, there's a ton of people behind us! We can win this!" I managed to restrain myself from patting him on the head.

And lastly, besides the traditional ugly race tee (not too ugly this year) it's got the best swag bag. See exhibit A above. That's a real fabric tote in hunter green. It included: a recycle-this-not-that decal, a Road Id leaflet with a discount coupon, a miniature pen, a travel sized toothpaste & toothbrush kit, and a "Need a lawyer?" magnet. Who doesn't want one of those for their fridge?

But that's not all!

There was also a packet of BBQ popchips (gone!), a Vitamin Water bottle, a Butterfinger which is something I've never tried, a plastic cup from Deno's Wonder Wheel in Coney Island, and a John Mayer cd. Isn't he pretty?

In past years I've traded CDs with other friends running since there tends to be a nice assortment including holiday music, but I didn't have a chance to do that this year.

This wast the last item in the bag: there were three Rebootizer packets. It doesn't have anything to do with booty but it's supposed to Reboot you. It's a weirdly floppy package with water at the bottom, powder on top - a squeeze, shake, tear and drink situation. According to the information on the back it helps "prevent the after-effects of food and drink over-indulgence by supporting your body's natural detoxification process." Made in Spain, it looks like it's mostly water, Vitamin C and few easily recognizable and pronounceable herbal supplements (dandelion root, licorice root, angelica root, etc...) For best results, it says, drink before bed or after a meal.

This reminds me of a diet obsessed aunt. While I was growing up, there was a period of time when if she overate, she'd have two clementines on top of that. She swore it helped her.

Since I missed my chance to have it after brunch - not saying whether I missed my chance to overindulge or to try the Rebootizer after the celebratory post-race meal - I might try it before going to be last night. The question is, should I eat a lot to give it a fair try?

Overheard at Tunnel to Towers

2011-09-28T09:27:00.006-04:00

The full race recap is on the NYDailyNews Running Dialogue. You can find it here.

The race was a memorable one and there were a few things I didn't mention on the guest post for lack of space. One of my favorite details from the race was a conversation I overheard while waiting to be herded to the starting line.

Him, telling her, both of them wearing sneakers with still sparkly white soles: "So when you run a lot, you have to be careful with your skin. If you watch a marathon you see guys with red streaks down their shirts from their nipples bleeding. So there's this thing that runners use. It's called GU and they put it all over themselves to keep from chafing. They smear it all over!"

No wonder I haven't been able to tolerate GU. I've been doing it WRONG!

But beyond that, I found this exchange both cute and funny. They were speaking of half marathons and marathons as these wild things they've heard of on par with alligators in sewers and flesh eating bananas. It wasn't really that long ago that I'd lived blissfully unaware of GU, Body Glide, and the shower test.

Though part of my was laughing at this, it was also a good reminder that we're all experts and newbies and that the distance between both is small. Where you stand on that line is not only relative, but is also always changing which is why it's good to be nice to those just getting started.

I hope they had a good race.

Ready for the worst, hoping for the best

2011-08-29T14:57:00.005-04:00

As most of you know, there was a hurricane on track to become the worst natural disaster ever to hit NYC. It was due to hit us on Sunday morning and the city swiftly went into a state of high alarm, all permits were canceled including the one for the NYRR Bronx Half Marathon.

I was ready to run the Bronx Half. Sort of. I'd made plans to stay at Tracy's the night before - two stops away from the starting line - so I wouldn't have commuting problems. In order to make it fit into my Runner's World Sub 2:00 plan, I'd taken miles here and there throughout the week so my long run could add up to 13.1. I was planning on running it at the 10:30 pace the program dictated for my easy runs on that week. I was not going to race it, but just run it as a long training run.

The thing is that though that pace is now an "easy" pace for me, if I had run the Bronx Half like that, it would've been a PR.

But I since I'd been having a lot of minor and not so minor problems running lately, I was also preparing for the worst. I was fearing having to quit mid-race, ending up in a medical tent, or ending up so beaten up that I wouldn't be able to continue with my ten-week plan.

That didn't happen, but neither did the best. The best would've been having an amazing race.

What I got instead was a lost weekend. It didn't have the drama of catastrophe, but neither did I manage to make it an amazing weekend.

Kind of like Irene. A lot of people are joking and even complaining about how lame it was, or how much of an overreaction all the preparation was. I was prepared (see hottie in the poncho pictured above - I got him to keep me company during the storm) and the relative mildness of the storm left me restless.

The hype, combined with the all the preparation had left us all expecting something. When that didn't come, most of us expressed it as disappointment. The storm was a let down. But I don't think anyone is really sorry it didn't hit NYC hard. It's just that we all lost this weekend and didn't get much in return.

Including those of us who signed up for NYRR races this weekend. No returns, no refunds. But not having to live through a major disaster, and not having gotten injured running a half-marathon - I think that's pretty good.

The Ten-Week Plan

2011-08-25T18:23:00.010-04:00

Between placing my minimalist experiment on hold due to Achilles problems and having problems figuring out pacing, my running was suffering. I was randomly going on runs here and there. Some were fun, but many more were unsatisfying mostly because I'd set out to go for distance and find myself going out too soon, too hard and having to stop after a few miles.

I had to toss my five borough goal out the window when I realized I was too hurt to run Queens. As the last week of July drew to a close, I realized that if I didn't get my ass in gear I wouldn't reach any of my goals for the year.

With that, and an automated email from Bart Yasso, I was back in training. I'd signed up for the Runner's World Challenge and decided to go for a big goal: run a sub 2:00 Staten Island Half. An excited tweet about it led me to find a running partner working towards the same goal and off we went.

Aided by ice and a Strassburg Sock, the first couple of weeks went by without much of a hitch. I skipped some of the scheduled speed workouts in favor of speed training with my team, and I shifted the workouts around, but I mostly stuck to the plan.

And the plan was working! I was getting noticeably better. The "easy" pace with which I'd struggled at the beginning of the first week, was a breeze by the end of the second as I passed other runners on the Brooklyn Bridge. The third week had me scheduled for a tempo run, which I'd never done.

This workout called for me to warm up, then run three miles at a specific pace. The problem was that this pace was 9:09min/mi. That's faster than my fastest race and I'd have to do it without cheering crowds and without a finish line. The fear of not being able to do it almost kept me from getting out the door. Halfway through the workout as sweat flew from my elbows and I felt myself struggling to breathe, that fear almost made me quit.

I was running at a fast, challenging pace. I didn't have long to go and I was sure that even if I didn't make the exact goal, I'd be close. But it was a very hard pace for me and the idea of running thirteen miles at this pace seemed impossible. My body started tensing up, my mind getting ready for defeat, when I had to remind myself that no one was asking me to run thirteen miles at that pace now. All I had to then was three miles.

Stick to the plan is all I have to do. If I look at what the plan calls for in a few weeks, I start freaking out and I have to keep reminding myself to give it a chance. Give myself a chance. Assuming it's a good plan, as long as I focus on what I have to do each day, and then the day after, and do it, slowly, what once seemed impossible will be within reach.

Which is probably why self-help books are so appealing. Do this, and you'll get that. But outside of running and other athletic pursuits, ten week plans with clearly defined goals are probably no more than powerful marketing preying on the wishful.

Maybe so is this plan. Maybe all of my plans and nothing more than cotton candy wishful thinking that will melt away before I get a chance to taste success.

But I'd rather aim high and fall short, than not give myself a chance to fly.

With that tempo run, I got a clear taste of it.

Read the training report on that tempo run here.

Governor's Island 10k Recap

2011-06-30T10:52:00.021-04:00

Ferry rides are a good way to start a race. Running this one was a last minute decision mostly based on being able to also volunteer for it. I'd heard good things about it - fast, flat course, gorgeous views - and I'd been jonesing for a race since Ragnar NY and the Brooklyn Half were like over a month ago.

A ferry full of runners is even better than the subway and the 360 view from Governor's Island was a treat. The course had so many turns I could never remember what was coming up next so I kept being surprised: the Verrazano! The city! NJ? Brooklyn!

It had a small race feel - only 758 participants - but with big guns behind it. A lot of people complain about big corporate races. As long as they don't stamp out the other races, I'm not only ok with them, but I like them since these races tend to be friendlier towards newbie runners. Also, since it was so small, it was easier to find others and I got to hang out for a little while with twitter dailymilers Linna, Mike, and Eva, in addition to the usual suspects - Michael and Steve.

There was a small festival area with a D.J./emcee. There were bike blended smoothies and a composting site.

Seriously. They were teaching the kids how to compost and the garbage bins differentiated between different kinds of recyclables, food waste, and actual garbage. Swoon!

There were no corrals so everyone went with the canine method; guess your own pace relative to those around you by checking each other's butts. It was all very friendly. I chatted with runners near me and found out for many of them it was their first time doing that distance. Some had done a 5k before, many had never done a race and everyone was very excited.

I was also nervous. The problem is that since the Brooklyn Half thanks to the barefoot bug I'd only been running one to two miles at a time. I knew I wasn't ready to run that much in my new no-shoe shoes, so I chose my racing flats.

I used to love them. They were light and fast compared to my other shoes. Unfortunately, my bright yellow Brooks Launch now felt big and clunky compared to what I've been running in lately. My feet felt wrong in them and it was hard to keep my form.

Though I generally prefer to run alone, I ended up tacking myself to a runner wearing vibrams and matching his form. He turned out to be the best running partner ever. I picked him up at around mile two and I think I was able to hold my form for the rest of the race. He was gracious about it and the miles flew by all the way to a 5min PR.

My favorite thing? First place finishers male and female got a real hand hewn axe instead of a trophy.

Toe down

2011-06-29T08:00:00.006-04:00

It happened while I was getting ready this morning. I dropped a very heavy mug on my toe and it went into technicolor mode. I jumped around and cursed and swore at the pain, but continued with my morning routine. But when I started to get dressed for my run I realized it was hurting to walk on it and I went into full twitterpanic.

I felt like such an idiot. I've been trying to be careful with my feet. I've been holding back and steadily building strength. My biggest fear with this transition into minimalist footwear is a stress fracture so of course I had to go and drop something heavy on my foot!

Fortunately some nice people on twitter reminded me to ice it. The advice was mixed between running and not running. Part of me wanted to run anyway. Yesterday's run was so amazing I was eager to get back out there. I'm also very stressed out and going for a run would have helped. But I know that if I'm angry and frustrated I'm more likely to want to push through. And pushing through pain today might do more damage.

I'm not good when I'm injured. Blood I can handle - pass me some tape and I'll butterfly stitch myself. Impact pain I can take - it was a week before I realized I'd fractured my eye socket. But give me something that feels like an injury even just a tiny bit and I start manically swinging from panic to despair. The world is going to end because my pinky toe is a little bruised.

No it's not. At least I know it's not, but I feel like it is and I need to keep myself in check. Heck, I have friends battling actual injuries who could give me a reality check. Still, inside I'm thrashing like a wounded animal. I feel like a cat I had. He used to howl in anguish like someone was pulling him apart limb for limb whenever he had to ride in a car in his carrier.

That's kind of how I feel right now.

It's probably just a little bruised and I should be able to run tonight. Amy says I don't need my pinky anyway even while running barefoot.

So if you see me howling on a corner, please tell me to knock it off and go for a run. And if you were wishing I'd run less, or at least run less on lonely trails (I'm looking at you, Evan) quit it! If something else falls on my feet I'm coming after you!

Prospect Park Trails

2011-06-28T19:11:00.009-04:00

After two weeks of alternating between holding steady and slowly increasing distance, my calves have finally started to adjust and I thought I was ready to jump to about three miles. So I laced up the minimus and decided to hit the trails. I biked to the park to conserve mileage so I could do as much of the distance as possible off road.

I parked by the Pavilion and headed East on the bridle path next to the main loop until an opening into the trails appeared. From then on, I just followed a trail until it ended or hit a road, then I backtracked until the last fork and kept going until the next end.

It was a little bit like running in a maze. I tried finding trails I'd explored last year but found them closed. I was worried I'd run out of trails too quickly but instead I found paths and arches I'd never seen.

Off-road Prospect Park seems to shift in shape as trees trick you into running in loops and making you go up and down until you feel you're in an area much bigger than the park. Also, it's so dense and quiet it's like you've left Brooklyn. Even though this was during the morning workout rush, I only saw a couple other runners on the trails. Both of them looked as giddy as I felt.

I might have to work on my self-portraiture skills if I'm going to keep this up. The shoes, the calves, the form were such a non-issue I was just having fun running and I was not looking forward to having to turn back. Since I'd decided to run for about thirty minutes I hadn't brought water with me.

The one fountain I found when a trail met the road failed me and I got lost and couldn't find my way out of the woods and back to where I had left my bike on time for my running cut-off. Instead of about three miles, I probably did about four and a half. I swear I didn't mean to!

When I came out of the woods I landed in off-leash central.

Which is exactly how I felt after this run.

Vibram it again

2011-06-23T19:18:00.004-04:00

Since nothing broke after my first run, I went ahead and held it steady. Sure, my calves were sore but not in a scary I'm going to break kind of sore but in a pleasant I'm getting stronger way. For my second run I decided to skip the injini socks. With them, the vibrams had felt a little tight and I wanted to know if it would be more comfortable to run without them. It was. But I also felt the ground more.

The night before I'd helped out a friend by acting as her makeup artist for an appearance on British morning TV show Lorraine. Breakfast TV, they call it. The only problem is that breakfast there is the middle of the night here. By the time we were done and in a car coming back to Brooklyn it was close to four am. I decided to come straight home, catch what sleep I could and deal with my bike later.

With the KSO's on my feet, I walked 1.5 miles, then ran the rest of the way to her place - about 1.2 miles more. Towards the end, I felt like sole on the balls of my feet were starting to get raw. I definitely missed the little extra protection the socks gave me.

By Grand Army Plaza there's this area where the ground is covered in these little tiles set out in a parquet formation. I'd barely been aware of it before. It's kind of pretty, I guess. Is it tile? Whatever it is, my feet hated it! All those little sharp edges attacked me, but they did help me speed up the pace.

Calves, achilles, the rest of the legs, all fine. Something I've noticed in these two weeks is that the only aches I've had have been soreness. No tightness (more on that later) and I haven't felt some niggling issues I'd been having (left hamstring, ITB). Granted, I'm running a lot less so it could just be all that rest I've been getting but it doesn't feel that way. I'm also not starting out with sore stiff joints and needing two miles to get my body going. I'm only doing a couple of ankle jumps and going.

My feet were fine. No blisters, no rawness; the skin was just a little sore. I put some moisturizer on and that was the end of that.

Vibram running

2011-06-21T16:52:00.005-04:00

My first stop looking for my new stride was finally daring to run in my vibrams. Though I love how they feel when hanging out, I'd heard such horror stories about achy calves and upset achilles tendons I'd been too scared to try. Particularly since I had a pretty serious achilles tendon injury in 2006. It was not an injury from running, but it's one of those old injuries that flare up every once in a while.

So. First run.

I thought I'd wear these toe socks. When you've got so little between your feet and the mean Brooklyn streets, every little bit of fiber counts. I'd heard you needed to start slow, so I decided to go for a mile. That's a short distance, right? So I went on a wonton soup run. I ran a few blocks north and did a short loop that ended at my favorite local Chinese restaurant.

The first few steps when I started running were terrifying. I was afraid I'd hit the pavement hard with my heel and it would crack. My heel, not the pavement.

Fortunately, it seems I'm not as much of a heel striker as I thought I was. I've been deliberately avoiding a heel strike for the past year or so but since I hadn't tested I wasn't sure whether I could keep it up.

Running in the vibrams felt a little skinny dipping. It's the same, but better. You feel everything more and it's exhilarating to the point of almost feeling naughty. It surprised me how much fun it was to feel the ground below me in such detail. Pavement unevenness was much more noticeable as were the changes in surface.

Also, my stride felt springier than I thought it would. In a way, I felt my run was lighter and kind of bouncier than usual. I left all gadgets behind and tried to focus on form. Stay on the forefoot. Make sure I lift my feet as if I'm stepping over logs. Calves going whoa!

Because I was doing such a short distance and was having so much fun I found myself going at what felt like a much faster pace.

Day after: nicely sore in the calves and glutes. The kind of pain you get from muscles you haven't used much, not the kind of pain that signals injury. I like that kind of I'm getting stronger pain. I might have to forget about ever fitting into knee high boots again.

Looking for my mini

2011-06-16T21:53:00.010-04:00

I've had these Vibram KSO's for bout a year. They got to hang out a bit here and there, mostly indoors, and they got to travel to Colombia for some beach and hiking fun, but until I heard Chris McDougal and Eric Orton talk last Saturday at Bookcourt and participated in the Naked Run I hadn't dared to run in them

The transition from motion stability to neutral to minimail has been slow, but I've decided it's time to take a leap and I'm ditching my regular shoes.

While I found myself a pair of minimalists I went on a few runs in the vibrams. They were unexpectedly fun, but I think it will be a while before I'll be able to run a half marathon in them, if ever.

I'll blog about the transition, the Aha! moment, and my first few runs with the KSO's later, but for now I'm going to jump straight to the shoes.

I went to Jack Rabbit Brooklyn looking for a non five-fingers minimalists. I tried and discarded two. The Merrel Pace Glove felt great on, but felt awkward running. The New Balance Minimus Trail felt great on and off the treadmill, but there seemed too much of a gap at the heel.

Enter Zappos.

I ordered the Sauconi Hattori (above). Extremely light, but I could tell it wouldn't work for me. It has a some outer arch support protection. It was fine on my right foot, but my left one has suffered some abuse in the past which affected the fit. I've torn my plantar fascia. That sometimes makes my left foot chub and squish out to the side. With the Hattori, my foot spilled over that support and I could tell that would be a hot spot while running. If you look at it carefully, you can see a tiny skinny red arrow pointing to the spot. Clearly I need to work on my photo editing skills.

Otherwise the shoe felt amazing. Wish it had fit me better at the arch.

Next was the VivoBarefoot Neo by Terra Plana. The sizing is different and even though I used the chart, it was clownishly big. The shoes seemed very nice - flat, light, comfortable - but because of the size I had to return them without even trying them on a treadmill.

Running in my vibrams was going well, but I was too impatient to wait to return the VivoBarefoot to get new ones - and my wallet could not stand carrying too many shoes at a time while the returns went through. So I decided to hit some running stores on Friday. Will tell you about that next. For now I'll just leave you with a gratuitous picture of mud. The KSO's do very well in the mud. Everyone else's shoes were shucked off their feet while I got to keep my grippy ones. This was while hiking with my brother in the Parque Tairona last December.

Woodstalkers in the news

2011-05-18T07:17:00.005-04:00

For those of you who might have missed my post-a-link fest yesterday, my race recap is on the NYDaily News blog Running Dialogue.

On Thursday morning in between frenzied packing and last minute shopping for van supplies, I was trash talking with @linnaf on twitter. I was letting her hear all about how her team @doubleknots was going to get Woodstalked. Lauren from @NYDNrunning piped in and asked if either one of us wanted to write something for her blog.

I let her suffer for about a minute and a half before I jumped in and volunteered to send her pictures and write something.

What I didn't realize at the time is that I'd be trying to do this from a moving van. I haven't reached that skill level with my phone swiping. Plus, my phone was also the van's official safety phone and it had to stay in the van and be accesible to everyone in the van in case the organizers needed to contact us. (If any of you got any weird messages this weekend, it wasn't me. Must have been the woodstalk.) My phone was also being used for GPS navigation. Between picture taking, tweeting, assisting with GSP and being available for emergencies, my poor phone ended up even more exhausted than the runners and needed frequent charging.

I managed to send a couple of brief dispatches, but the bulk of the reporting ended up taking place as a recap, back in Brooklyn on Sunday night before the work week swallowed me.

Read the recap here!

But don't worry, I'll write some more about it later. I haven't told you yet about our interactions with the police.

Woodstalking, again

2011-05-17T07:13:00.015-04:00

The Wodstalkers ran Ragnar New York again. Last year we ended up winning the prestigious Nom de Plume award with "I'm Woodstalking your Girlfriend." This year we dug deep and decided to question ourselves and others. We went with "Is That a Woodstalk in your Pocket?"

Ragnar tried to veto our name because of morality concerns. We went with the Dr. Seuss defense. Plus, with such a cute logo who could really object? (Thanks again, John!)

Pre-race drama included an injury flare up on one of our runners who didn't know if he'd be able to run at all, another runner dropping out the day before and last minute relay leg and van redistribution. After sorting all that out we managed to gather up - a full team of twelve - and set out to the real start of our race: team dinner.

The team in Williamsburg, ready to head upstate.

Pasta dinner and a few hours of sleep later, Van 1 showed up at the start line ready to go. Everybody quieted down for the safety briefing: to please follow all rules and don't get run over. Once that was done we got back to the music, the freebies, the costumes, the decorated vans, and the port-a-potties.

Van 1: Big Pappa and his ladies.

Something else that was fun about the start line, I discovered the whereabouts of Seal Team 6. They weren't going by that name and I'm not sure I got to see them of course, but I'm pretty sure it was them.

Race recap coming soon, both here and on the NYDaily News blog Running Dialogue. Yes! How cool is that? I was the NYDaily News Ragnar correspondent this weekend.

Some things can't be hurried

2011-03-02T08:32:00.004-05:00

Like digestion. This morning I thought I'd skip my usual pre-run breakfast in favor of a bowl of cereal so I could get out for a run faster. Everything seemed to be moving along fine and I was ready to hit the road in record time.

It was a gorgeous morning. A little nippy but you could tell the cold had lost its heart and that spring was on its way. My feet were itching to eat some miles. With Mr. Timberlake in my ears, I was ready to bring Sexy Back.

The first mile went smoothly but soon after I started to doubt my choice for breakfast. All that fiber!

I managed to stick to my planned route, but my stride was clenched towards the end. Not sexy.

Sorry, Justin.

It's not you, it's me

2011-02-23T07:22:00.000-05:00

Garmin, I know it could be awesome between us. I know it's my fault. I haven't tried hard enough. Even worse, I keep forgetting you exist but then expect to be ready to go out on a run with me the minute I grab my shoes.

You've tried. You've valiantly stood outside my apartment building scanning for satellites with your best "beam me up, Scotty" smile only to then realize you were out of batteries and not up for a run. Sure, I'd had my energy all sorted with shot blocks but I'd forgotten to charge you. Other times I'd be a few miles into a run when I realized I'd left part of you - the heart monitor! - at home.

I've heard great things about you. I know you could help me get faster. I know your beepy company could help me stay on pace for long runs and I'd love to get to know you better.

Sometimes I can be stubborn and set in my ways. I've loved and lost before only to find again and I'm having trouble adjusting to new buttons, but please give me a chance.

Would charging you nightly help? How about going on double dates with other runners and their Garmins? Would you like that?

Will run for cupcakes

2011-02-21T11:37:00.008-05:00

You'll have to take my word - it was delicious.

While volunteering at the PPTC Cherry Tree Run I found myself jealous of runners. Though I was having fun cheering, I wanted to run. Later, while discussing race plans over brunch I realized it was time to get back in a training plan. NYRR's Coogan's is around the corner and Ragnar is just a little over 10 weeks away.

The hills of Fort Tryon Park would laugh their inclines off if I showed up for Coogan's without training. Besides, a neighbor had promised me a key lime cupcake.

So I hit the hills yesterday afternoon. It was a moderate workout to ease back into it, making sure I left enough in the tank for another run today, but it was still a five miler worthy of a cupcake.

It was a great cupcake.

Disclaimer: Not in any way affiliated with @run4cupcakes though I probably would enjoy running (for cupcakes) with her.

Can you hear me now?

2011-02-20T14:36:00.004-05:00

It's not that I've fantasized about having my voice heard booming everywhere but I enjoyed being in charge of the bad boy pictured above.

As a member of the Prospect Park Track Club - the best and smiliest running team in New York- I was asked to volunteer for today's race. It was the Cherry Tree 10M race or 3 person relay. Since I'd decided not to run, at about the third email I caved in and agreed to do my part for club.

A group of us was assigned to the relay exchange area. We needed to keep the runners doing 10M out the area, the relay runners organized. Part of keeping the relay teams organized was to be further ahead on the course calling out runners' numbers as they approached so their team members would be ready to start running.

Enter the bullhorn.

The other volunteers seemed shy to be in charge of it, so I did my part for the team and grabbed the bullhorn by the handle. I welcomed runners, pointed them towards baggage, told them to hurry to the bottom of the hill for the race start, gave instructions to the relay teams, and got ready to cheer runners and call out team numbers as the front runners finished their first lap of the park.

This happy state of affairs lasted as long as the battery which unfortunately was only a little over an hour. After that I was told transmission got increasingly warbly until it was lost and the number calling continued by radio. After that it was just me and my voice.

Volunteering for the race was a lot of fun and I got to see plenty of friendly faces but after standing around in the cold for a few hours I was jealous of the runners. They looked toasty. And I might need to be on cough drops for the rest of the day.

I'll start after my run.

Halving Marathons

2011-02-19T07:22:00.000-05:00

Time moves more slowly for some. For me, it's time to go public on my New Year's resolutions. I have noticed it's February, but I figured it was time set my running goals on blog.

I'm not running any marathons this year.

I loved training and running the NYC marathon last year. I loved the excitement of having such a big project ahead of me and I loved giving Hal Higdon a run of my schedule. I basked in the sweet tyranny of early mornings and enforced soberness combined with the weekend night camaraderie of twit-runners preparing for long runs.

And the long runs! On Friday nights I had a standing date with myself at my favorite restaurant to carb up. It freed me from social commitments and it gave me ~~an excuse~~ a reason for a quiet evening with great food and a good book. The long runs gave me views of New York and of myself I'd never seen and it was intoxicating. Running from Brooklyn to Manhattan and back to Brooklyn I felt strong. I felt I could do anything.

Which is why I'm taking that I-can-do-anything feeling and applying it elsewhere.

I'm still going to run, but I want to apply elsewhere the focus and determination required for training for a marathon. I want to put that focus back into my writing.

So this year instead of running marathons, I'll run half-marathons. Five of them. One in each borough. Plus Ragnar, of course. The gang is getting back together and going Woodstalking.

One half-marathon down: Manhattan. It was fourteen degrees. The windchill was four degrees and it was sunny with a chance of awesomeness. With spotty winter training slowed down by a lung that's giving me trouble, I had no idea what to expect of this half. My longest run in a while had been my easy five-ish miler on my birthday and though I'd been running five miles regularly, I'd gone on no long runs for this.

It was fine. It was better than fine. It was so much fun I might even write a race report.

Gridiron report: Why I race

2011-02-07T21:04:00.006-05:00

The blog police is very active around the track at the Park Slope Armory and I got a citation from them last week. Even though the strongest complaint was about the missing post: NYCM Report Part 4 and I'm missing five more reports from races I've done since, I'll risk a more serious summons and skip ahead to the Superbowl, or rather the NYRR Gridiron Classic 4M.

I run so I can race. The solitary and meditative qualities of long distance running regularly provide me with a quiet mind that makes me happy. My long runs and their encounters with butterflies, ducks, swans, unexpected trails and views of bridges keep me sane and I'm looking forward to going back to running on more varied routes once the ice is gone. But right now I run so I can race.

In most races there is a moment - often on a hill or a curve - when the view of the course opens up and I get to see hundreds of the thousands running with me. The power of the crowd sweeps over me and I feel myself part of a human stampede. I see the beautiful variety of runners, running for different reasons, but all of us running for the same finish line.

We've all felt lost and alone at some point in our lives. We've all ached for love. We've all mourned loss. We all want to be loved. We all dream of a better tomorrow, through a better now. We're all putting one foot in front of the other hoping to gain something from it. Maybe it's the strength of knowing the courage and stubbornness required to finish a race will help us accomplish our goals.

Everyone is different, and yet, deep down, stripped of the superficial, we're all the same and we can all relate to great joy and great pain and it is in the joy and pain of races that I'm humbled and reminded that I'm just like everyone else. The camaraderie of the pre-race corral, being cheered by strangers, the struggle through the rough spots and the thrill of the post-finish bagel line - all in the anonymity of spandex - put me in touch with some of the most basic pleasures of being human.

Yesterday's 4Mile race gave me that. The feeling was so intense I ended up pushing myself harder than intended, harder than my training allowed. For the last quarter mile I pushed myself so hard that for the first time ever I crossed the finish line looking for a bucket. Dry-heaving by the side of the road from great exertion was one of those pleasures and a privilege.

A Runner's birthday

2010-12-17T20:49:00.010-05:00

Reporting live from Cartagena de Indias

A great birthday in twelve steps.

1. Have your brother plan his wedding for the day after your birthday in a kick-ass vacation spot.

2. Wake up and have dad make you a Colombian coffee and arepa breakfast.

3. Go for an easy 5 mile run on the beach.

4. Stretch and have breakfast again.

5. Read, rest, nap, receive happy birthday wishes by phone, email, and social media.

6. Lunch by the beach. Catch of the day: red snapper. Six platters please.

8. Mom-made birthday cake with sparkly flares!

7. Nap, rest, read, and receive more birthday congratulations.

8. A cup of fresh Colombian coffee.

9. Total relaxation on the fifth floor with a view of the old city: swimming pool, sauna, swimming pool, jacuzzi, sauna, swimming pool.

10. Dinner.

11. More cake!

12. Friday night out in the old city. (Still to come)

The only thing that could have made this day even better would've been for friends to join me tonight, but the commute was an ocean and a handful of countries too long for most. Maybe next time.

NYCM Report - Part 3

2010-12-01T08:12:00.014-05:00

When I'd grabbed bracelets at the expo I hadn't thought the extra one, turned into a cheering squad bracelet, would be the only one I would end up wearing. But if it had been a choice, I'd have gone with the cheering bracelet. I might have been able to finish my first marathon without adequate pacing, but I wouldn't have reached the finish line without the help of good friends.

Brooklyn cheering got me all the way to the Pulaski bridge going into Long Island City. As I headed towards the bridge, I noticed the half-way point sign. I'd completed a half-marathon! I was halfway there! The clock on the 13.1M sign made no sense to me. I looked down at my watch and realized I'd run this portion at a half-marathon pace even though I'd taken a long port-a-potty break in Greenpoint.

Uh-oh.

As I headed up the Pulaski bridge I started to feel a little tired. Had I suddenly gotten a ton faster and would be able to have a fantastic finish or was I headed for trouble? On the bridge incline my legs weren't feeling so fresh anymore and the miles ahead started to seem daunting. My stomach was hurting, I had a light headache, and my head was cold. I tried to love the Pulaski as I had on training runs, but the Pulaski wasn't loving me back. To help control the negative thoughts, I focused on my next cheering stop.

At the 14.4 mile point, Kristin and Jenn would be waiting for me with the rest of my shot blocks and snacks for the later part of the run. I'd managed to miss spotting some friends who'd come out to cheer for me in Brooklyn, but these two were unmissable. Standing over their bikes and dressed in hot pink and highlighter yellow, they were jingling cowbells and screaming my name like it was their job. I'd met them at just past mile 6 and Kristin had held on to my hat, so I was able to refill my pockets with goodies and cover up my head again as I approached the Queensboro.

There was only a two-person line at the port-a-potties before the bridge where I'd stopped again hoping for relief before the climb into Manhattan. As the first person was about to go in, a woman in her sixties coming off the course dashed to the front and begged to go in first.

"Sorry, we're all in a hurry and we're all in line" was the response she got.

The woman looked panicky and was squeezing her legs. As she went to move to the back of the line, the guy in front of me waved her in front of him and when another port-a-potty opened up she went in.

While we waited, the guy turned to me almost to dare me to challenge him. I didn't. I'm all for respecting lines in general, but when there's a toilet (or potty) involved I'm all for giving right of way to anyone who demands it. Not only do I not want to risk causing and witnessing an accident happening right at my feet, but it gives me hope that when I end up on the other side of that someone else will let me go first. Because yes, with all this running and racing, there is no doubt in my mind that one of these days that will be me, begging. Fortunately, that day wasn't marathon day and after that stop I headed up into the Queensboro.

I'd run the Queensboro during training runs and had liked it, but on that day the bridge seemed eerie and cool. After the sun and cheering crowds, the bridge provided the opportunity for quiet and peaceful reflection. For me, this meant my mind started going "#*%^$&* What I have gotten into?" Once I'd reach Manhattan I'd still have 10M to go. That's about two more hours of running and I was tired, hungry, and had a headache. I didn't feel like running for two more hours. To make things better, the incline helped me feel like I wasn't even moving forward, so I stopped running.

Walking up the bridge would help me recover so I'd be fresh again once I hit Manhattan. Besides I had friends there! I wanted to see my Reiko & Co who'd be waiting on the other side! And the headache was probably because of the sunglasses! Silly me deciding to wear sunglasses for the first time for he marathon. I'd give the sunglasses to them and my headache would go away. I'd start running once we started going downhill and I'd have an amazing rest of race.

Such was the pep talk that managed to give me enough of a second wind to reach 1st Ave running.

It didn't last. By the time I hit 90th I was slowing down again. I thought I'd be meeting friends there and I was sad. These weren't any friends. They were running buddies, Ragnar teammates, they had Woodstock sitting on a high throne with them, and they had coconut water for me. And they didn't wait for me! They were gone! They didn't care! I was so disappointed not to see them that a few blocks later I was walking. I was still walking when I saw them at 99th St.

They later told me I looked bad and that they were worried for me. That I was shaking my head and just didn't look like myself. I tried to run again for them, but I think it was barely a shuffle and by the time I reached about 116th near mile 19th I was walking again and I'd had enough. I'd had enough of the noise and the crowds. I didn't want people chanting my name. I wanted everyone to leave me alone. And I wanted to put my feet up.

I walked over to the side of the road. A concerned bystander asked me if I was ok. I told her I needed to adjust my socks. I sat on the curb and took my shoes off while I thought about my options.

I'd blown my time goal. Not matter how fast I ran, I was not going to make it. Besides, I didn't want to run anymore. I wanted to hop in a cab, go home, and sleep for a long time.

A little kid came over and offered me a bottle of water. I didn't need water since I'd just passed a water stop, but the kid seemed uncomfortable to see me sitting there on the curb. Besides, I wasn't ready to call my friends and tell them to go home. I wasn't hurting. Nothing was broken. Was I really going to throw the towel because my feet were a little tired? No. I was not going to quit. If I wasn't going to quit, then I'd better get moving. This wasn't going to get any easier, the sun was going down, and I had friends waiting for me.

It was time I put my shoes on and start running again, run to them.

To be continued.

Previously on Muy Majo...
Part One
Part Two

New York City Marathon - Part 2

2010-11-29T21:10:00.006-05:00

In my mind's soundtrack, Rocky's "Gonna fly now" was playing. I was running through Brooklyn's familiar streets buoyed by the masses of people who'd come out to cheer. The marathon route stretched ahead of me in the city's greatest tailgate party and I was ready to enjoy it. My feet were pounding the pavement and I was feeling lucky and honored to be there.

It wasn't so on the Verrazano. Two minutes past the starting line and I was already freaking out. I went from goosebumps and tears of joy to desperately wondering where the exit was as soon as the climb to the bridge started. My legs were aching and panic was bubbling right below the surface.

I had to remind myself that I'd trained for this and that I was ready. It's just that starting on an uphill with no warm-up is rough on the legs. I turned on my shuffle. Even though I'd been running without music, I'd taken it thinking I'd wear one bud if the going got rough. I thought music might help me until we got to Brooklyn, but I couldn't hear the music. I fumbled with it then decided it wasn't worth it - that I'd rather be in the moment. I had no idea if it was broken, out of power, or had decided to go on vacation. I didn't need it: there was a human stampede on the longest suspension bridge in the Americas and I was part of it.

It was better to focus on not going too fast and enjoying the view.

As we came off the quiet and relative solitude of the bridge, the Brooklyn crowds welcomed us with a roar. Bay Ridge was on its Sunday's best and though I'd been happily high-fiving little kids, it was even more exciting to high-five a familiar face: Craig, a former neighbor was waiting for me at 83rd Street. It was around there that Toomer passed me like a shadow and that's also when I noticed I was surrounded by people with 4:20 pinned on their backs.

The most optimistic estimates put my finishing time at 4:45, more realistic ones at 5:15, so I dialed it back a few notches and let the 4:20s go ahead. Running felt easy and though I did not feel I was running too fast I knew I was supposed to go a lot slower if I wanted to be able to make it to the finish line.

As that group passed me, a fellow PPTC teammate caught up with me. We ran side by side, in sync for the next few miles, occasionally commenting on the sights - 'Did you see that? Crazy!' - until she peeled away at mile 6 to grab water and I ran ahead to meet friends waiting for me at 22nd Street. There I stopped for a quick photo op, dropped the hat and the shuffle, and continued down 4th Avenue.

It's a well known fact that Brooklyn is the best Borough and it did not disappoint on marathon Sunday. Signs, music playing, little kids thrilled to be getting high-fives and people cheering enthusiastically - excited for the runners and in turn making the runners even more excited to be running. 4th Ave was a gone in a blink and then I hit Lafayette where the party was bigger and louder and where I had three different sets of friends waiting for me.

I almost missed the first two. They were swallowed by the crowd and I didn't see them until I'd almost passed them. I would've stopped, but my feet couldn't stop moving. I was in a stream of marathoners and I had too much forward momentum. I managed to see the third group a block away and was able to slow down and give them sweaty hugs and kisses. I was running and dancing my way through Brooklyn, whooping, clapping, and fist pumping on my merry way to Queens.

What was all the fuss about? This was easy! This was fun! I could do this forever, I thought.

Little did I know there'd be bridge heartbreak, port-a-potty drama, and curbside despair in my near future.

To be continued...

Previously, Part One.

NYC Marathon - Race Report Part 1

2010-11-28T19:47:00.005-05:00

After months of training and planning, it seemed like marathon day came all of sudden and I found myself madly stomping around my apartment on November 7th, 2010 at 4:30am, rummaging and making a huge mess trying to find my pacer bracelets. Since I didn't have any pacing device I'd picked up the free bracelets at the expo as insurance against the capital sin of marathoning and the most common rookie mistake: going out too fast.

At some point I gave up and left, preferring to go out without bracelets rather than risk missing the PPTC bus to Staten Island. I was still fuming clomping down the stairs when I got to the landing in front of my neighbors' apartment and my anxiety defused with a smile at the sign they'd left for me.

When I got to Jack Rabbit to board the PPTC bus, I bumped into Paul whom I had casually bullied/encouraged to sign up for NYRR the previous January 31st. A year and change later we'd both completed 9+1 and were ready to board. When we got to the starting village we settled in to wait in the cold. Over my running clothes I was wearing fleece pants, a cashmere sweater, a hoodie, and a down coat. This was topped with a wool blanket draped over my shoulders. The homeless bag lady look helped me fit in, but I was also freezing.

Paul and I sat down for a bit thinking it would be good to rest, but we were both too antsy and too cold to stay still, so we walked around trying to find a warm beverage. The starting village was a scene of high energy organized chaos. There were forty five thousand runners milling about waiting to run the biggest race in the world, trying to stay calm and warm as instructions in multiple languages piped through speakers and a rock band played live to an indifferent audience. This crowd was much more interested in the Dunkin Donuts truck which is where we headed.

By the time we were done with the coffee and had found a spot to camp out in the sun, it was time for Paul to head to his corral: he was starting with the sub-elites in the first wave and was going to try to qualify for Boston on his first marathon. I wished him luck and touched base with fellow Ragnar teammate Andrea. We were planning on starting together in her corral even though we wouldn't be running together because of our different paces.

We were in the last wave and the atmosphere had turned frantic: after hours of waiting, whoever did not make it into a corral would not be running. We got stuck in a crowd and couldn't see the signs ahead of us and we barely made it into the corral right before it closed.

After that it was a slow moving herd until suddently space opened up before us and we were right there! The start line was within sight, double decker buses with people cheering lined the side, the toll road that would lead us to the Verrazano and into Brooklyn was ahead. Someone gave a brief speech, there was some cheering, and then Frank Sinatra went "Start spreading the news..."

I gripped Andrea's arm and started shaking it "We're running the marathon! We're running the marathon!" and started crying and hugging her. I think I started making a weird high pitch wheezing sound and Andrea shot me a concerned look. I told her I'd be fine in a minute. I was just taking in the grandeur of the Verrazano spread before us and thinking of the all the steps that had had led me to be standing there. Already thousands had stood there before that day and I was about to run in the steps of Olympians, behind thousands of amazing people that had struggled through sweat and blood to follow their dreams. I was about to pursue one of my own and run my first marathon.

My arms and legs were still covered in sesame seed sized goosebumps and I was trying to calm down and stop crying when the gun went off and we started running.

Response to An Open Letter for a Fall Marathoner

2010-11-04T10:54:00.005-04:00

This a response to An Open Letter for a Fall Marathoner

Dear Marathoner,

It’s been a long road. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t scared. I am. It wasn’t so long ago that running a 5k was big deal for me. But I’m also excited, thrilled, and grateful to be about to join the ranks of marathoners.

Training was hard. For a while I didn’t really think I would make it, but I listened when you said I just had to follow the plan. It seemed impossible! Me, run so many miles at a time? I thought I’d surely break - some body part would give up - but I thought I’d keep going until that happened.

Through the miles, the heat, the early mornings, the sweat and the exhaustion, you believed in me. You encouraged me to keep going, to continue the slow buildup that would lead me here.

Taking it one day at a time, run per run, I saw my body change. I ran until my racer back top was tattooed in sun onto my skin. Clothes started fitting differently; the waist was loser, while my thighs were straining at the fabric. One rainy day I realized I’d outgrown my rain boots: my calves had gotten too big for them. It was part of the process of getting legs that would take me across a finish line 26.2 miles away from the start.

I can do this. I can run 26.2 miles. I can run through five boroughs. I can run five bridges. I can run New York.

The race is just days away and I’m swinging from elation to panic. Little aches are popping up everywhere and I have to remind myself you told me this was normal. Though I start tearing up when I see the posters, banners, and flags all over the city, part of me just can’t believe this is happening and that I’m about to run a marathon.

I couldn’t have gotten here it without you. Thank you for leading the way. Your advice and your kind words have helped me and now it’s time for me to trust you again. It’s time for me to believe I can do this.

You’ve reminded me I’ve put in the training and I’m ready. Now it’s time to eat, rest, and stay calm in the knowledge that I am ready. I’m going to honor you by doing my best to stay calm in the days and hours leading up to the start line and by running and enjoying my first marathon.

I will run 26.2 miles. I will run through five boroughs. I will run five bridges. I will run the ING New York City Marathon.

Thank you for running with me, thank you for cheering for me.

Yours,

Majo

Harvest Cross Training

2010-10-18T09:11:00.004-04:00

A twenty mile run requires serious cross training to aid recovery. Yesterday's cross training: participating in a pumpkin cook-off.

1. Prepare a pumpkin dish - just one rep.
I made a pumpkin gruyere soup with orange and lemon, served inside a hollowed out pumpkin.

2. At party, sample all pumpkin dishes- repeat as needed to achieve maximum fullness.
Tip: focus on the pasta dishes to restore glycogen levels.

3. Roast leftover seeds for snacking. It will help Monday pass more quickly until it's time to go run again.

20 Miles

2010-10-16T18:42:00.006-04:00

Great conditions for fishing? By the time I saw that it was too late for a change of plans. Or sport. With three weeks to go, I was ready to run.

I must have forgotten to wipe my dreams off my forehead before setting out this morning. Today's run was my first 20 mile run ever and my last long run before the taper as I get ready to run the New York City Marathon.

At mile 3 a group of cyclists passed me slowly on a hill. They cheered for me and one of them wished me luck in three weeks. I also got a few "21 days!" cheers and even some runner-on-the-war-path growls. Friendly ones. I growled back as best I could.

How did they know I was training for NYCM? I could've been training for MCM. Or maybe I was just a runner on her usual Saturday morning neighborhood run.

Maybe it was because I was following a good chunk of the marathon course. Or perhaps it was thanks to the marathon ads and banners popping up everywhere. Maybe I just looked like I meant business and that my business was #NYCM.

Whatever it was, I had a blast.

I ran 20M to meet my neighbor from across the street for brunch, about 5M from where we both live. It makes a lot of sense, right?

Often the hardest part about running is getting out the door.

D was going to be in a conference in the city. She was free for brunch but only for a small window of time and she was bringing me a dry change of clothes. All this meant that when I woke up in the morning there was no question. I was going to leave my apartment by 7am without agonizing over it or wondering whether I really wanted to do this, or if I wanted to to this today, or if maybe I wanted to read a book first. Nothing. Just get ready and head out the door. No dilly-dallying. I had to get there on time.

I decided to break it down into manageable chunks in order not to be overwhelmed. I decided to think of it as 5 mile warmup run. Then I was going to run for 10 miles, which I know I can do. Then I was going to do a 5 mile cooldown. Plus, whenever my mind wanted to start freaking out about how much I'd run and how much longer I had to run, I'd tell myself I was going to run all day. Six hours at least, so I might as well relax and sink into it.

Is the last bite really better tasting than all the other ones, or is it just that its being the last makes it more intense? Today I took the intensity away from the last few miles by pretending I was going to run for much longer. That way when I got to the last mile I was rested and relaxed and managed to make it my fastest mile of the run: 2 minutes faster than the others.

There was a wind advisory, but the wind gusts just made it more fun. I was well rested and I think I probably benefitted from the extra effort of running against the wind. My eyes were tearing at times. On the Pulaski bridge I felt I was being pushed into the barrier; as I approached the Queensboro there was a moment where I took a couple of steps but did not move forward, and I shivered when waiting for lights at 92nd. But it was fun! The wind kept me company all the way, whipping my braids around and I'm sure at times it must have pushed me from behind, though I don't remember that.

At Mile 20 there was a surprise. At the corner that marked the end of my run, about a dozen people with posters and matching shirts where cheering for me! They'd kept themselves busy cheering for Avon walkers while I got there and they kept it up after I left, but they were there for me.

20 to brunch w/Jenn

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Staten Island

2010-10-14T07:46:00.005-04:00

As November inches closer, I thought I'd go take a look at Staten Island, scope out the other side of the Verrazano, and try to figure out my marathon time.

For those of us who don't run with fancy gadgets keeping track of speed, location, and heart rate, one way to guess expected marathon time is to use performance at past races. I hadn't raced properly since I started speed training and I hadn't done any long races in a while. I signed up for the Staten Island half marathon as a way to figure out where I stood. It took place last on 10/10/10 - four weeks before the New York City Marathon

I'd run a few races lately. I did the Team Championships 5M in August. It was my fastest five miles to date, but I'd done them trying to conserve since I was planning on running 9 more miles back to Brooklyn after that to complete my scheduled long run.

Then there was the Fitness Mind-Body Spirit 4M in September which was my slowest four mile race to date, but I'd run fourteen miles to get there and used the race as the last four miles of my long run.

A couple of weeks ago I ran the Liz Padilla 5k. It was Don's first race*, which is why I there running on a scheduled rest day after running 18 miles the previous day. I did pretty well, but it was a 5k - not a distance I'd want to extrapolate to calculate marathon times.

Between my race performance being all over the place and the fact that I often forget to stop my watch after runs, I had no clue how fast I've been going or what my pace should be for the marathon. Forget about running at target pace, I have no way of telling how fast I'm running until I'm done running, and that's only if I remembered to use my watch properly.

I ran the half-marathon thinking of pushing hard. I started out with Kate, a surprise encounter at the ferry terminal. Kate is faster than me, but I hung in there for about a mile before I decided to let her pull ahead and focus on myself. Besides, I was in trouble.

I hadn't seen the first mile marker yet and my watch was showing 12min. When my watch showed 14min I started panicking. If I was running a 14minute/mile, I was in big trouble. I wouldn't make it. What's worse, if this is what running a 14minute, by then going on fifteen minute mile, felt like I was going to die on marathon day. The amount of effort it was taking me to run as fast as I could walk had me sweat dripping from my elbows and I was trying hard not to panic. It took all my mental strength to tell myself I'd just missed it and to wait for the next marker.

For the first time I used my watch to mark the splits. (If I knew how to use the recall function I'd be able to share them with you but unfortunately I can't figure it out and I need to wrap this up before I head to work.)

Around 9M I started to feel relieved the end was near. Then I started panicking again. If I was looking forward to finishing that early, how the heck would I be able to run twice as long in four weeks?

I managed to remind myself I'd be better rested by then (yay, taper!), I'd benefit from having my very own cheering squads along the course (mark your calendars, Cheerleaders: itinerary to come), and I'd be excited to be running. Don't take this personally, Staten Island. You're awesome and you were a great host, but running your half was not as exciting as running a full marathon through all five boroughs. Please don't take it personally, SI.

At the ten mile marker I told myself it was just a 5k ahead of me. No problem. I even picked up the pace. Then at half a mile to go I cranked it up and keep it steady and managed to clock in a half marathon that was eleven minutes faster than my previous one.

Which means I might be able to run a sub-5 marathon.

Maybe.

I was all business during this race, checking my time, checking my splits, trying to focus on pace, and that was not as much fun as just running it. And I mean to have fun running New York.

*Congratulations, Don!

Knocking 'em out

2010-10-13T21:05:00.004-04:00

That's what I've been doing to my non-runner friends - what's left of them. The runner friends tend to survive it better, but just marginally so. Only those who are also training for marathons, or thinking of training for them, can bear the full brunt of it.

It's also the graphics on a popular shirt sold by NYRR and a good reminder that I need to blog about all this if I want my friends to survive the last few weeks left of my marathon training.

Still running

2010-09-29T16:30:00.006-04:00

For a while I thought I'd pretend I'd done like the French and just taken off the month of August. Not that I'd gone anywhere. Or rather I went everywhere, but just on my feet. August was about running. So was September. Now it's almost October and I can almost smell undertones of November in the air.

I'm still running. Training for the New York City Marathon has been an adventure with highs and lows. The lows mostly had to do with my being too busy and too tired to do anything, let alone blogging. If you want to know about my training, feel free to head on to the blog and click through the training widget on the right.

And now for some diamond shaped bullets to bring you up to speed:

◇ Nathan and I had a great summer but we haven't been getting along lately. At first I thought I could make things work by adding more velcro but now the flap goes all around my waist and is in the way of my elbow. Nathan's been grumpy and getting all bouncy on me, which makes me unhappy. It might be time to go our separate ways.

◇ May running had me struggling with some aches which ended up being new shoe related. Now I've gone from a stabilizer shoe to a lighter neutral shoe and am hoping to transition towards minimal shoe running. After the marathon, of course.

◇ The longest run to date:18M and it felt great. True story.

◇ Currently obsessing about what to wear for the marathon. I even made myself a running skirt which has performed very well in preliminary trials.

◇ Start line assignments have been made. Corrals, waves, villages, the works. I'm in Green Wave 3, starting at 10:40 am on November 7th, 2010. It still feels surreal.

Where are you going to be November 7th? Cheering or running?

Marathon Long Training Run #1

2010-07-30T11:03:00.004-04:00

Going to Central Park for a 7am long run seems ridiculous when I could just as well run near here at whatever time I want. Having to deal with the MTA's increased weekend flakiness does not making the run easier. Nor does it help to have to get up even earlier on a Sunday.

Getting to the start line is half the battle. There's the sleepless night of tossing and turning followed by feeling tired in the morning and wondering if it's such a good idea. Can't possibly run without having slept well! For anything under 10k, I don't have this feeling anymore. But I probably should assume I'm not going to sleep on November 6th, and I probably won't get much sleep on November 5th either.

Though I am pretty easy going and I'm calm when dealing with emergencies, I'm the excitable type. By that I mean I let myself get excited by anything and everything I want to do, eat, or see, to the point where I sometimes am unable to sleep or make myself sick. I get so pumped with energy I could give any Christmas day kid a run for his money.

In order to practice trying no to be too crazy on marathon day, I decided it would be good for me to do the NYRR Marathon Long Training runs. It's going well. I'm all psyched for this weekend's run. I'll try my best to get a good night's rest on Saturday, but I won't make any promises for who can sleep with the prospect of an official long run?

What makes this exciting?
I'll get to run with a pack
Though I love running on my own, the running with a pack gives me a thrill and it will feel more like a race

I'll be on a measured course
Since I don't run with any gadgets besides a watch, I never know exactly how far I've run and thus don't know my pace. Though I feel like I've gotten faster, I don't know if this is true and I don't know what my pace should be for the marathon. It's time to start figuring that out.

There's support
Water and gatorade stops! Misting stations! Nathan is annoyed that I'm not bringing him, but I think it's good for him to rest. With fluids provided and a bag check, I'll be fine with what I can carry in my pocket. Having misting stations means this weekend I won't have to deal with the glares of parents for my running through playground sprinklers.

There's more support!
When I signed up I hoped I'd get to meet people, whether they ran at my pace or not. Since then, I've discovered the power of twitter, and now I have plans to meet some twitterfolk before the run. Better yet, it looks like one of them might run at about the same pace as me! We'll see. Either way, it's only Friday and I'm already excited enough that I didn't sleep well last night.

Yup. It's Christmas day and this marathon training is going to be full of them!

Getting Started

2010-07-27T07:24:00.007-04:00

Instead of its usual spammy offerings, my mailbox had a real treat for me yesterday. When I got home, NYRR's "Get Started Guide" to the 2010 New York City Marathon was waiting for me.

Maybe it's just that I'm a child of the 20th century, but there's something about print that makes things more real. There's part of me that mistrusts the cloud. Things can go wrong and get accidentally deleted - a sneeze and a click and poof! Files are gone. Tech-heroes can step in and make things right, but without their super tech-savvy powers, when something goes wrong I'm a damsel in distress trapped in a tower guarded by a byte-chomping dragon and a wi-fi blocking moat.

Which is why even though I'm in the NYC marathon and have known I was in since last year when I completed the 9+1 program, part of me didn't quite believe it.

Until yesterday. A blue and orange pamphlet in my mailbox made i t all real. It let me know with goosebumps that all that training was for something concrete: the 2010 New York City Marathon.

The guide includes useful information like a link to the MTA, lists of official hotels, and discounts to Mary Poppins on Broadway: information I don't need. Except for the medical and training sections, it was all irrelevant for New Yorkers. I still read it all front to back.

Getting to see the race week schedule set me off with orange fizzy feelings because getting an official printed guide is not the same as getting the weekly "On Course" emails.

Print made it real. I'm in.

New training device

2010-07-26T22:45:00.001-04:00

Last weekend I installed a new training device. I'd had it for a while, but it had taken some time to figure out the best way to install it. After deciding to go for a 2x6 crossbar that would be attached to two studs, it was just a matter of taking the time to install it properly so it would be sturdy and the weight would be distributed properly. I decided to put it on carabiner hooks that attached to eye hooks, so I could take it down and put it back up without having to deal with knots.

After much measuring, drilling, torquing, and knot tying (bowline), the hammock was ready to be hung.

There are many health benefits attributed to hammock use, from ease of neck and back pain, to improved concentration. One thing is for sure: it's hard to remain tense on a hammock - how can you be tense when you're floating and rocking softly?

In the past week, I've enjoyed lying on the hammock after runs; it's a great way to keep your feet elevated.

Two friends came to check it out and test it last Saturday. The hammock passed inspection, but they were curious about where I had gotten the idea of installing a hammock in my apartment.

An indoor hammock? As long time readers might now, it's not a very original idea where I'm from.

Hammock sandwich with my cousins circa 1986. Can you tell which one I am?

8M Loop to Red Hook & Dumbo

2010-07-26T07:35:00.003-04:00

Easy recovery week as I get ready to bump up mileage next week with NYRR's Marathon Long Distance Training Run #1 next weekend. I wasn't just recovering from running, but also from a nasty summer cold.

I meant to take the promenade, but spaced out and ended up under the BQE, which was shady and breeze. Not a bad thing on such a hot summer day, but I don't recommend it for an evening run since it would probably be deserted then.

This run features a sprinkler.

8M Loop to Red Hook & Dumbo

Red Hook & Promenade
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Notes:
*There's not much shade along Columbia, but you're running on a path along the water.
*When you get to Atlantic, make a left and take a detour through part of the new Brooklyn Bridge Park: you'll be rewarded with a great sprinkler.
*That 2 block stretch on Hicks is a fun steep hill.
*I was weaving around Brooklyn Heights looking a deli I couldn't quite remember. I was coconut water hunting.
*There were water fountains along the way, but I forgot to note exactly where as I was relying on the electrolyte stuff for this one. There is probably one near the playground on Atlantic. There is another at Cadman Plaza near the running path where it would intersect with Clark Street.

Enjoy!

7.3M to Bayridge

2010-07-22T09:34:00.007-04:00

Here's one of my favorite running routes. In the past few months I've done many versions of this in both directions and it's a fun run. Running by the water is always a pleasure, particularly on hot days. Even though Bayridge is not that far, running to Bayridge sounds far, and it makes me feel more badass.

Besides, the Verrazano is a beauty and getting to see it up close is a good reminder of what I'm working towards.

7.3M to Bayridge

7.3M to Bayridge
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Notes:
*The little loop in Owl's Head Park is a fun hill. It's steep but short, with a view at the top.
*There's a water fountain right where you enter the path by the water.
*If you pass under the Verrazano you've gone too far and you'll end up in Bensonhurst.
*The end point for this route is the 95th St stop on the R train. There are delis nearby for handy snack/drink procurement for the ride back.

Enjoy!

Being doubly watched

2010-07-20T07:24:00.006-04:00

Apparently, now that I've had a new watch for a little over a month, it was safe for the old one to turn up. As those of you who've been reading for a while know, I had lost it when coming back from running a 24hr relay from Woodstock to NY.

Running the Ragnar relay was intense, and poor Watch had to work overtime. There was no resting. There was no moment when time didn't matter. Except for a nap under the stars from about 2:30am to 5am or so, it was always go, go, go. Go run. Go cheer. Go to the next check point. Go meet the other van and lend them a runner. Go get lost. Go find a decent a toilet. Go lounge under trees. Go run.

Upon our return, I went out for pizza with Lizz and left Watch to rest. When I came back Watch had disappeared without a trace.

As the days turned into weeks of my sitting by the window hoping Watch would appear, I began to lose hope. Running without a watch was not ideal, so I got Another Watch.

Last weekend I had to move furniture around while getting ready to install some equipment that will aid my marathon training. There it was: Watch.

So now I have two. I might have to run with one on each wrist.

11 Miles

2010-07-17T14:08:00.019-04:00

Behold the technological marvel of pen, paper, and pins. It doesn't calculate my pace, and it doesn't tell me where I am, but it did make my run a ton easier. Until I finally get an android (thoughts? recommendations? I'm thinking Android X, but I'm clueless about all this stuff. Also, I love qwertys but it seems the better phones don't have them) this little device not only kept me from getting lost - I wasn't lost last time, I just thought I was - but since it had my mile markers I could easily calculate where my next turn should be without second guessing myself.

Highly recommended, customizable, and budget friendly. Since I got Nathan I've been avoiding Prospect Park for most of my long runs. I love the park, but it gets crowded on weekends. Add bike races to the mix and it gets dangerous. Running around in circles doesn't work for me for long runs; the temptation to head home is too strong. Besides, I like having destinations.

From now on, I'll start sharing the routes of these long runs here as a resource for other South Brooklyn runners. Most runs will start from Bartel Pritchard Square and end either back there or near public transportation. Will try to catch up and post some of the past ones. The routes are modifiable so you can edit and map to accomodate length & starting point. (Click on the link, not the map. Look for the pen and paper icon to edit.)

Here's 11Miles To Williamsburg

11M To Williamsburg and back
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Notes:
* The entrance to the Williamsburg Bridge is on Bedford Ave. Runners on the south side of the bridge, bikers on the north.
* After crossing the bridge and on the way to the East River Park there's a sweet little playground on Columbia and Delancey - south side of the street. Good water fountain plus the sprinkler was on today. Score! A few senior citizens looked baffled as I shrieked while running through it.
* When you get off the Brooklyn Bridge there's a water fountain right as you enter Cadman Plaza.
* Cadman Plaza has a cushy rubbery path that that will give you that extra bounce you need to finish these 11Miles.

Enjoy!

Maltodextrin vs Brown Rice Syrup, or life after the World Cup

2010-07-15T06:31:00.006-04:00

It turns out most runners can tolerate one or the other, but not both. Only one can make you champion. If.

When you're planning on running for about five hours, the question of how to fuel yourself while doing so becomes important. It's not about which gel or supplement will make you faster, tougher or badasser, it's which gel, supplement or food won't send you running to the nearest port-a-potty or give you a stomach ache.

While running, maltodextrin makes me run faster but only in one direction: to the nearest toilet. I need something more versatile. Clif makes brown rice syrup based products - I love their shot blocks - but I'm still not having enough and what little I have tends to give me a stomach ache.

It might be a matter of training myself to eat while running, so I dutifully force myself to chew. You're supposed to have three blocks per hour of running. I've managed to have two in two hours of running and I still get a stomach ache. I'm trying to figure out if I'll fare better with actual food, but the problem is carrying enough of it during runs that go over two hours which is where I am right now in my training. I'm thinking of trying olives and brazil nuts soon or maybe trying to drink my calories.

But until I figure that out, I'll stay with Clif.

I'm guessing bars and gels work better when you're doing other things like swimming or biking. I'll keep that in mind when I do a triathlon.

Doesn't that sound like fun? I love running, I love biking, and - little known fact - I'm a strong swimmer. Actually, I'm probably better at swimming than either running or biking since that's the only one where I've had formal training. My brother was a much stronger swimmer; he competed at the national level. I stuck to the regional level but I was good and my mom still has the medals to prove it.

And triathlon training just looks like a lot of fun, don't you think?

PS. Does anyone want a couple of GU energy gel packets? I won't be needing those.

Worldsick

2010-06-15T07:04:00.008-04:00

When born, most Americans get inoculated against the futbol passionata. The futbol passionata is a powerful virus that affects the nervous and motor systems and, like malaria, comes in cycles.

Most other countries in the world don't bother vaccinating their citizens. Even though it does have some downsides and its effects are occasionally deadly, its benefits far outweigh its dangers.

As implied in the name, those affected by the futbol passionata benefit from higher levels of passion. They also have a greater appreciation for sportsmanship, the beauty of human movement, and, in most cases, beer. Furthermore, they are likely to find joy and an opportunity for play whenever a reasonably sturdy spherical object is nearby.

Futbol passionata also provides an outlet for nationalist feelings that does not involve killing your opponent. It provides the agony and ecstasy of the battle, the redeeming aspects of arduous struggle without leaving bodies on the field.

Due to its cyclical nature, those under its influence are often affected at the same time. Thanks to that, friends and strangers get to vibrate in unison.

Right now we are undergoing one of its most powerful cycles: the World Cup.

This cycle has been strong enough to weaken inoculation in some Americans as was evident at the Bell House this past Saturday. South Brooklyn is in its grip.

As some of you know, I'm the Overflow Magazine World Cup Correspondent and I'll be documenting the spread of this epidemic throughout South Brooklyn bars and restaurants. Drop me a line or leave a comment if you want to join me for any game.

Please keep me in your thoughts as I undertake this arduous task and pray I manage to come out of this without a face tattoo.

PS. Here's a Lego replay of the US vs England 1-1 win from last Saturday.

About Nathan

2010-06-14T18:33:00.009-04:00

I know it's soon, and yet, I know it's true: I'm in love with Nathan. As is often the case, things were awkward in the beginning. That didn't last long and now I can't even imagine how I ever did without Nathan.

When I go out running with Nathan, I feel badass rocking my hydration belt (yeah, I know I might be in denial here, but I believe Nathan is much better looking than other belts out there). Never underestimate the effects of badassness on your run; if you manage to turn feeling tired into feeling badass, you'll want to run more so you can feel even more badass. It's the well known and scientifically proven Tinoco-Brady Principle of Badass Propagation.

I also feel less tired and less heated when I'm well hydrated and Nathan is better at that than a Roman slave fanning me and feeding me bunches of grapes.

It's true I can't compare, but I don't need to; I'm happy with Nathan.

I bought a Nathan Sports Speed 2 - size M. Sites mentioned most runners prefer wearing these belts low and to buy by hip measurement. Though Nathan is designed to go in the front, a lot of people prefer running with him in the back. So that's what I first tried: low and in the back. Bad idea. Because of how my butt curves, wearing it low meant the bottle tops were pressing against my back.

Switch to the front, low. It bounced and was riding up, so I let it stay were it wanted to go and it worked. This all took less than one long block. Nathan doesn't bounce, but it does provide a little extra movement which took me about half a mile to get used to (the aforementioned awkward period). Since then it's been bliss.

However, I wish I had bought a size S. At my waist, I have to wear it as tight as it goes and there's a lot of belt sticking out in the back. Plus, if my waist shrinks any, the fit won't work anymore. I might either have to fiddle with the velcro or buy another one in a few weeks. (Does anyone want a gently used size M?)

I've done two long runs with Nathan and they've both been awesome. In one I miscalculated and ended up lost in Bensonhurst and doing two extra miles at noontime. Nathan was great and kept me calm. Nathan was carrying electrolytes, my phone, metrocard, money, so thanks to Nathan I was able to call my friend Reiko and she figured out where I was and how I could get out of there. The electrolytes and the water helped keep me safe in the heat and I was comfortable doing the additional miles.

I'm looking forward to long summer runs with Nathan. I know we'll have a great hot and sweaty time together.

Being watched

2010-06-08T07:09:00.007-04:00

Runners are creatures of habit who derive comfort from routines, schedules, rituals, and mantras. Not candles, but specific pre-run sequences that go from eating and suiting up to warming up. And there's no mantra chanting, but if you could get in a runner's head during a hard stretch of a run, you'd hear the same thing repeated over and over again. It can range from common ones like "Pain inevitable, suffering is optional" to briefer ones like "one more" (step, block, or mile) to more motivational ones like "fried chicken."

Research would be needed to determine whether creatures of habit are more likely to become runners or if running acts as a personality catalyst turning otherwise normal individuals into sole obsessed maniacs who quickly become experts at Newton's First law of motion and consider distance and speed appropriate Happy Hour conversation.

I ran for about a year without a watch and finally got one last fall when I realized I had completed NYRR's 9+1 program and had some decisions to make. My running changed once I got it.

I have a hard time getting going. My body is slow to respond to my will to run. It takes me about twenty minutes or two miles to warm-up. So I tell myself I can't make any decisions before twenty minutes. I just have to keep going. If things are hurting, I can slow down as much as I need to. I listen to my body and adjust my gait. Relax. But keep it up for twenty minutes. Usually, by the end of that, the stiffness and aches are gone and I don't feel like stopping, which makes five/six milers my favorite distance. Two to warm up, by mile three I really start going, mile four I hit my stride, mile five and six are fun and by the end of that I'm pleasantly tired, but not burned out.

But I couldn't do that without my watch.

I lost my watch while Woodstalking last month. Sure, my legs hurt, but the real reason I couldn't run for the weeks after that was that I didn't have my watch. After looking for it for two weeks (I'm convinced it's somewhere in my apartment) I gave up and bought a new one, which was just the same as my old one. The better to avoid having to re-learn which buttons to press.

Oh, watch! I'm so happy to have you again!
Now at least I know how slow I'm going.

Jailbird Running

2010-06-05T08:18:00.007-04:00

My mamma always told us not to write on our skin. She said that's what jailbirds did because they didn't have any paper. She said it in a disapproving tone that let us know we never wanted to be jailbirds. We still sometimes wrote on our hands and though it didn't land us in jail, scrubbing it off we felt the relief of a near miss.

Now there's barely a need for pen and paper, and yet, writing on my arm was the only way I could figure out how to do this.

The PPTC Summer Speed Workouts program is kicking my ass and straining my noggin. Last Thursday I had run 1000m repeats at current 10k pace. With the NYRR's handy result search, my 10k pace was easy to find, and thank be the google, knowing how long it would take me to run 1000m at that pace was not much harder (awesome pace/distance/time calculator here). I was running at the 200m track at the Armory.

In order to be able to maintain that pace, I needed to know both my target time for five loops and my target time for one. Plus how many times I was to do this, how much rest time in between, and how much warm-up/cool down. And I needed to either keep all this information easily available without access to a handbag.

Sorry, mamma.

Fortunately, today there will be no need for that. I'm running to Bay Ridge with Nathan. It's only our first run together, but I have a good feeling about this.

Tennis

2010-05-27T06:47:00.007-04:00

Because hand and eye coordination is not a strength of mine, I've never been into sports involving a racket. While growing up, tennis was for the rich kids with access to the country club. While in college I unsuccessfully flirted with table tennis, but the tables were at El Corral in the most popular food court and the potential for embarrassment was high. I had better luck with squash. A classmate of mine lived in the outskirts of Bogotá in a compound with courts and for a couple of semesters I got to play enough squash to develop the skills to hit the ball. Sometimes.

Which is why I never thought I'd ever be excited at approaching tennis courts. My arms were covered in goosebumps yesterday as I walked towards the Prospect Park Tennis Center; the sight of it drawing me in as I struggled to contain myself.

Earlier, I had gone out for an easy run as part of my new speed training. Since the previous day's hill repeats had almost ended with my leaving the contents of my stomach on the side of the road, I had started at a very easy warm-up jog. At mile one my stomach was queasy but I thought it would pass.

I entered the park at Bartel Pritchard Square and was running counter clockwise. By the time I got to Center Drive, I was one a half miles into my run and thinking I might need to make a bathroom stop. I bypassed the port-a-potty that stands sentry at Center & West Drive because that wasn't a good option yesterday and I was still hoping it would go away.

A third of a mile later I was by lake and knew I was in serious trouble. I scanned the horizon for playgrounds and comfort centers. Nada. I flipped through mental images of what was outside the park on the other side of the road to try to remember if there were any coffee shops or some other places that might be open then and came up empty.

By the time I stopped two people walking dogs to ask them if they knew where there was a restroom nearby my eyes were darting about, all systems threatening immediate shut down.

"If you walk long enough you'll bump into one," said the one with the corgi.

But I didn't have long. Time was running out; a ticking bomb was about to explode.

The skating rink would be closed and because of uneven toilet distribution on the loop I was about a mile from the next comfort station. Would this be the end? My legs were still moving but I knew it was a matter of time before it was all over for me.

Then I saw it. Through the leaves of the trees, a glimpse of where I would be saved: the Tennis Center on the Parade Grounds just outside the park.

Oh, Tennis Center, bless your hours.

Gone Woodstalking

2010-05-16T22:33:00.009-04:00

Before: The fabulous Van 1 in Woodstock.

After: The amazing I'm Woodstalking your Girlfriend team, in Dobbs Ferry 185 miles later and not much worse for the wear.

More details later, once I've caught up on sleep and food.

Flying the Flag

2010-05-13T07:11:00.002-04:00

My terrace is too small for me to take a good shot, but the flag is flying.

This weekend, I'm Woodstalking your Girlfriend will be running from Woodstock to New York. We cross the start line at 8am and run non-stop until we get to Dobbs Ferry, hopefully not too late for lunch on Saturday. It's a relay team, some are friends, other I haven't met but they'll have become friends by the end of this.

That or we'll have killed each other from being trapped in a van together for so long. But I don't think that's going to happen.

I have no idea how this is going to go; there are too many variables, from the weather, to injuries, to exchange points in gravel lots, but whatever happens I'm sure it's going to be great.

When I mention I'm doing this I usually get one of two replies. One is a bug eyed OMG, that sounds awesome response, usually accompanied by an I wish I could do that or I'd like to do that sentiment. The other response is a puzzled, maybe even concerned for my sanity "Why? Is this for charity?"

Though proceeds from the race are donated to charity, we're not running for charity. We're doing this for fun.

Oh, it's going to be rough at times. Our team has already taken a few hits. It should have been twelve of us, but it's going to be eleven (get well, Nick!), and a few of us might be limping a little. But how can it not be fun to run with a team named I'm Woodstalking your Girlfriend that has a kick-ass logo, a flag, a song, and even a surgically enhanced mascot?

I'm doing this because I want to know what it will feel like to be at the edge of exhaustion, running along a dark road at 3am in the morning, and feel my heart fill with the sliver of light at the edge of the horizon. And I want to know what it's like to do this with friends, because at the end of that run, there will be a stinky van full of friends, ready to help me hop on, and pass me a towel to dry me off, and a blanket to keep me warm.

Random cheering texts for me and my team from Friday through Saturday are greatly encouraged.

In Recovery

2010-05-03T07:40:00.005-04:00

It was a procedure with unexpected complications. With the chief surgeon taking a break to go run a 5k followed by post-race margaritas, what should have taken a couple of hours took almost a full day. There was concern about the sedation needed to keep Woodstock under the knife for so long, but since what took the longest was the crafting of the implant, Woodstock was kept in pre-op and only brought in when everything was ready.

While still in recovery, Woodstock is in good spirits and showing off his new smile. He also mentioned he now wants blepharoplasty to match his bigger, brighter smile and is considering having it done as soon as he has made a full recovery.

Let's hope Woodstock doesn't go all Heidi Montag on us.

Operating Room Update

2010-05-02T08:24:00.005-04:00

There have been unexpected complications and Woodstock remains in the operating room. Though surgeons have declined to comment, from eavesdropping on the nurses this reporter has been able to deduce the difficulties arose from the prototype maxillofacial implant. Specific modifications were needed so it would fit properly around Woodstock's unusual under the chin mouth.

Since this is an experimental procedure, surgeons are proceeding with caution. The Pet Shop Boy's greatest hits can be heard coming from the operating room.

Woodstock remains in a stable condition.

Exclusive Interview

2010-04-30T12:07:00.006-04:00

As part of the upcoming New York Ragnar Relay, Woodstock has decided to undergo a dangerous maxillofacial cosmetic procedure and has granted MUY MAJO an exclusive interview.

MM:Woodstock, welcome to the blog. Why do want this surgery?
W: Thank you, Majo for having me here and giving me an opportunity to talk openly about this. All my life I've been self-conscious about my smile. Always tight-lipped and seemingly chirpy, hiding behind a closed mouth smile, unable to express my feelings in a deeper more meaningful way. I believe cosmetic surgery will give me the confidence I crave and help me relate to others.

MM: I understand it is a painful surgery and not without risks.
W: That's true. Plush isn't safe when there's a sharpie around and the use of needle and thread involves a risk of potentially life crippling stuffing leakage. But I'll be in the hands of the top surgeon in the field.

MM: Why have this surgery now?
W: I'm ready to lead a fuller life. I heard Your Girlfriend was going to be at the New York Ragnar Relay and I'm Woodstalking her.

MM: Beg your pardon?
W: I want to join the team I'm Woodstalking Your Girlfriend as they run 185 miles from Woodstock (the town) to the Bronx and my chances of being allowed in the team will be higher once I have this procedure done.

MM: Peer pressure?
W: No. But I will be a stronger asset to the team if I can cheer them on fully with a bright smile.

MM: Thank you for sharing that with us, Woodstock. On behalf of my readers, I'd like to wish you a speedy recovery from surgery.
W: Thank you, Majo

April showers

2010-04-27T07:19:00.002-04:00

There are things I do that help me get out the door - that's the hardest part. To run you need to keep going, but you can't do that if you don't start.

Early morning runs leave me floating in a cream puff feeling that misbehaving printers and cranky clients can't touch. Off-leash dogs in the park and the mist rising over the lake make my heart bubble over in unlimited mimosa brunch happiness. Is there anything better than a sunrise?

My pillow.

Sometimes when the alarm goes off at five, the pillow does seem better. Leaving my clothes ready helps, specially if I left myself a treat: my favorite Adidas socks, or my favorite Run as One top. I have many favorites and I make sure I only wear one at a time for training runs so I can always have one available for bargaining with myself.

Ir was past one when I went to bed last night and though I had decided to wear my new marathon cap (waterproof!), I didn't leave everything ready.

After banging the snooze button three times, I decided I was too tired to head out on only four hours of sleep and that it was better to run after work. Yeah. Like I'll be less tired then.

Maybe not, but it might not be raining.

Chilled

2010-04-25T19:05:00.006-04:00

Spinach Soup. Vegan. Raw. That was lunch yesterday.

I mean to eat more - lamb, rice, mushrooms, maybe even some salad if I was feeling enterprising - but by the time I was done with the soup I did not feel like eating anything else.

Eating is a sensory experience and for me it's also an emotional one. What I eat changes how I feel and how I feel changes what I eat. What I do also changes it and when I'm very active I tend to crave healthier food.

This spinach soup is Jessica Hulett's recipe. She co-hosted and catered a Spring Detox event last Saturday with an all vegan menu. Though I was skeptical about how much I would like it, when it was time to eat I found myself going for seconds. The food itself was not only delicious but soothing and calming.

I'm not interested in becoming vegan or even vegetarian. It's not just the bacon, though I would never give it up, but I'm not going to avoid delicious food just because it's vegan.

I could not have the soup Jess served on Saturday because it had cayenne pepper (I'm allergic), but everyone's eyeballs were rolling to the backs of their heads and a friend who went with me dutifully obliged and had my share of soup - twice.

After the event, I went to the co-op for the main ingredients: spinach and avocado and I made it for lunch yesterday. I served myself a small cup and sipped. It was rich, smooth, flavorful, and surprisingly satisfying. If this is what vegan tastes like, I think there's room for it in my diet.

Particularly if it helps me run.

Rude

2010-04-24T07:06:00.003-04:00

You're right. That was rude of me. It's just that things between us are still so uncertain that...

No! That's not what I meant! I meant new. We're still getting used to each other. It seemed abrupt to introduce you like that - it would've been awkward. But you're right, it's worse to just have you there, assuming everyone knows who you are.

I thought having you next to Pink yesterday would be enough since Pink is a regular and has often modeled for me, but that was just a cop out.

Green, I'm very happy to have you in my life. You're refreshingly springy and I appreciate your enthusiasm for early morning runs. I know you used to spend a lot of time in a box and that being with me has been adjustment, but I want you to know I'm excited you're here to run with me.

Apologies for getting you soaked and muddy last Wednesday night, I hope you enjoyed your beauty rest on Thursday morning while I went out with Pink.

I hope you're as excited as I am about Ragnar and training for the marathon.

Oh, and that trip to DSW on Thursday night, that has nothing to do with my feelings for you. You understand that, right?

April is the runniest month

2010-04-23T10:42:00.008-04:00

April 7th was the lottery for NYC Marathon spots. Though I had my 9+1 guaranteed entry spot, it was fun to follow it and see if any of my friends made it. There was a live webcast of part of the draw, and though NYRR did not realize there would be thousands of people from all over the world and Mary Wittenberg sounded like a sleepy walrus for the first five minutes of it, I still got sympathetic goosebumps for all those who were just finding out they got in.

It was all over by 1pm. Results were posted and those who gained entry got their congratulatory email. Those who didn't, like Ms. Lizz, got to thank NYRR for being "extra generous with that salt shaker" by being told three times that they didn't get a spot. Sorry, Lizz.

April 7th is seven months out. Most marathon training programs for beginners are 5-6 months long, but these programs don't start from the couch. They assume you've been running regularly 3-4 times a week and can do 5M in one go.

The 5M is not a problem, but I've never managed to keep a steady running program so it was time to get my ass off the couch and get myself used to running every other day or so. No excuses and no counting bike rides or broomball games as runs as I did when I was getting ready for the Brooklyn half-marathon last year.

So, instead of waking up early putting one word in front of the other, I've been dragging myself out the door and placing foot in front foot until I could call it running. I'm averaging 15M a week which would have seemed impossible two years ago, but now is not nearly enough.

It's time to increase mileage and do it in a hurry because I'm part of a team that on May 14-15 will be running 184.8 Miles from Woodstock to New York.

And yes. I'm aware that this is not the most efficient way to travel back from Woodstock, but is there anything better than to run with a team called "I'm Woodstalking you Girlfriend"?

Just add water

2010-04-15T07:23:00.004-04:00

It works for seeds, it works for humans. It's good before runs, it's good after. Can be applied topically or internally.

Topically it helps us not stink. Internally it helps us not be thirsty. Beer helps with that too, but it's because beer also has water.

Lately I've been having trouble figuring out how to get enough water in me. I'm a water guzzler. I don't take lady-like sips but tend to chug it loudly, entire glasses at a time. I love cold water, but can't drink ice water - it tends to end up on my shirt.

If there's water handy, I'll drink it, but if it's not right there, I can forget to get myself any until the sides of my throat are glued together and my skin feels like it's made of paper. One liter bottles are my favorite, but disposable plastic ones make me feel guilty and stainless steel ones make my back hurt. Will have to figure something out.

I've been blogging less and running more, but I think if I add water I'll be able to do both.

Stretching is good

2010-03-27T14:57:00.003-04:00

My sciatica was talkative this morning when I woke up, so I decided to stretch before my run.

I don’t stretch enough. How little I stretch was clear to me once I got down to the floor for some action with the foam roller and found this guy (see picture) hanging out under my couch.

He’s been since evicted, along with a few other relatives of his that took offense when I got out my broom.

Crumbs

2010-03-24T09:24:00.008-04:00

I'm not very much into cookies. As I've mentioned before, to me most cookies are too sweet, too dry and with very little in the way of texture. That doesn't mean I'm above enjoying a good cookie, particularly if it's freshly baked.

A couple of weeks ago I ended up with five boxes of sprinkles left over from work - an occupational hazard. I offered some to Reiko since her sons like to bake. In turn, she invited me over for cookies on Monday night after work.

With her son, we made chocolate chocolate chip cookies with sprinkles. They were warm and gooey when we ate them. The chocolate made them dark and rich, not too sweet, and the sprinkles added extra texture.

"Would you like to take some with you?" Reiko asked me as I was getting ready to leave.
"Um." I had already eaten a bunch, plus eaten plenty of raw dough. I wasn't sure I wanted any more.
"Take some. They won't be as good later but they'll still be good," she insisted.

I took them - half a dozen cookies in a small container.

They didn't last twenty-four hours.

And then there were Girl Scout cookies at work yesterday. Samosas and Thin Mints which kept making their way to my desk.

Help me! I'm turning into a cookie monster!

Crossword

2010-03-23T08:07:00.003-04:00

Last Friday I was on the train working on this puzzle. The New York Times crossword, edited by Will Shortz. I was filling in words left and right, up and down, feeling like a badass wordsmith while doing so.

I was having an internal giggle thinking how impressed anybody who might notice me would be (ha!), since they would assume I was working on that morning's puzzle - the Friday puzzle, second in difficulty only to the gigantor weekend ones.

I wasn't. This was the Monday puzzle, which I had grabbed on Tuesday at work. (I'd also grabbed the answers posted on Tuesday but I haven't looked, I swear!)

It's Tuesday again and I haven't finished it yet.

This is my life now. I feel like I'm having Monday's breakfast on Tuesday, re-heated on Friday, only to realize there's still crumbs left a week later, I skipped lunch, and there's dishes in the sink. But I'm getting better at it.

It took me a couple of weeks to get used to writing and editing while standing, but I didn't take anyone's eyes out while I was developing that skill. But I still sometimes step some toes: so sorry Mr. Hipster Dude with the dark green bag and the ironic 'stache. I'll be more careful next time.

Three runs and sunny

2010-03-20T10:52:00.005-04:00

Three runs in 24hrs was challenging even without the help of a nor'easter. I ran 11M split into three runs, which was not much more than last weekend, but I thought I'd give myself a break.

Every woman is different, so I can't speak for all. But I can speak for myself and for friends who have shared their experiences. Strenuous physical activity during your period is wonderful. It makes everything harder and more painful (who doesn't love cramps!) and you get to feel more of a badass than you already are for managing to forge through.

"Survived rain, wind and hills and maybe a broken vagina, but it was a good 65 miles," was how a good friend of mine who bikes put it after a ride to Montauk.

Life would just be too easy otherwise. And since we can't organize our sporting events around it, then we might as well train anyway. So I only added about half a mile this week, but I'll start upping the mileage next week.

And now, a brief commercial interruption for an ad that made my day.

Three runs and a nor'easter

2010-03-15T07:49:00.006-04:00

The hardest part about going for three runs within twenty-four hours was figuring out what to wear. I'm not above pulling out from the bin a dirty and slightly stinky running shirt when needed (not that I do this often, oh no), but I draw the line at wearing something that is still damp from the previous run.

Since this weekend's runs featured a nor'easter, I wasn't only dealing with my own sweat, but also the sky's sweat pouring on me. I was completely soaked after my first run. For the second run I was annoyed at not being able to wear my favorite gloves or my favorite tights, but I had something to wear. For the third run there was nothing to do. It was either admit defeat and not do my three runs in twenty-four hours, or put on still damp running gear.

Eeek!

Fortunately, once I started running and warmed up enough to sweat I couldn't tell old dampness apart from new dampness.

The runs themselves were fun. There was a new pond in Prospect Park at the bottom of the small hill across from the baseball diamond. The ducks had already found their way there and were doing upside down dances with their tails and feet flapping in the air. Some trees had decided it was time for spring cleaning and had dropped branches.

But best of all, I managed to do them and all body parts are still in fine working order. Next weekend, another three runs in twenty-four hours, adding mileage this time.

Why am I doing this? Because I'm Woodstalking your Girlfriend, my pretties!

Heliotropica

2010-03-11T09:13:00.004-05:00

Dear Sun,

It was so nice getting to spend time with you lately. I know you must be tired after shining for days and days, but I wanted to let you know I miss you.

Things are better when you’re here. You give everything an extra spark and there are more smiles to go around.

I know there are some who don't like you, they might even block you and hide from you, but please don't take it personally. You are awesome and there are plenty of us who love spending time with you.

Hoping to run with you this weekend,

Majo

Round 2

2010-03-10T08:03:00.004-05:00

It’s a good thing I like grits and congee because that’s all I got to eat yesterday. For dessert: stained glass jell-o and homemade condensed milk ice cream.

Last week condensed milk made headlines in the New York Times. Glad to see it get the recognition it deserves, I decided to buy myself a few cans and have fun with them. First on the list was stained glass jell-o. Next was condensed milk ice cream. Could making ice cream be as easy as the New York Times claimed?

It was. But I found it too intense, so I added spices to cut the taste: cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. I brought both to a party on Saturday night where they were well received.

After Monday night’s close encounter of the dental kind, I was apprehensive when heading back for round 2. It was a different dentist this time. All she had to do was file one of the fillings to set my bite right again and she did that in less than a minute.

She did not react when I mentioned I was very upset about my appointment the previous day. She didn’t ask me why. Later when she asked me why my jaw hurt so much I told her about how I had received services on Monday night without the benefit of being under anesthesia. I told her the anesthesia was taking time to take effect and I hadn’t been allowed to wait for it to numb me.

“Sometimes that happens.”

Yeah. Not going there again.

My evening was saved by the last of the stained glass jell-o and ice cream. I can chew now, but my mouth is still sore I can’t open it wide enough for large bites – so I’m being all lady-like in my eating.

And using all this as an excuse for more ice cream.

Just breathe through it

2010-03-08T20:18:00.011-05:00

Those are not words you want to hear your dentist say.

It's not that there was no troglodyte infested cave in my tooth, it's that he didn't see it until I pointed it out a third time. The minute he saw it, he admitted I was right and he proceeded to get the excavation tools.

We can do both today, he said. You're not going to need anesthesia for the little one, but you're going to need some for the other one.

He gave me a shot near the cave. While that took effect, he went to work on the other side of my mouth. When he came back to start working on it, he noticed it was still too sensitive so he gave me another shot and tried again.

A cold blast of scraping rotating pain went through my tooth and straight to my eyeballs leaving sparks ricocheting in my skull. My eyes flew open as my arms gripped the chair and I grunted so I wouldn't scream.

Sorry, he said. It'll just be minute. Keep your eyes closed.

I'd like to take a moment now to apologize to all those of you who are afraid of dentists. I now realize I'd never had a bad experience at the dentist and I had no concept of the pain you had gone through.

While growing up I always saw the family dentist - my mother's cousin. He pleasantly chatted away with my mom as he worked on my teeth. They caught up on the lives and minor scandals of distant relatives as their chatter lulled me into indifferent boredom. When we were done, we would go downstairs to the Heladeria Americana and have a frozomalt under the almendros.

When I moved to Bogotá, I never bothered to go to the dentist. I just waited until I visited my parents back in Barranquilla, and I had only had one other dentist in New York. I'm only now realizing how gentle she was.

So I shut my eyes and he went in again with renewed vigor. I held on to those armrests until I almost bruised them

You know that cottony feeling you get from dental anesthesia where your mouth and lips feel like they've grown three times their size and your skin is made of paper? I didn't feel that. I was not numb at all and I tried to tell him.

Don't try to to talk right now, he said. I know it hurts but I can't give you any more anesthesia.

After digging out a few more bucketfuls of debris, he decided he was done. He patched things up and sent me away, telling me not to eat anything that required chewing for the rest of the day.

I paid and headed out, glad to have been released alive. I was a few blocks away when my mouth started going numb. By the time I got home my lips felt they were the size of Texas and I didn't know where half my face had gone. Anesthesia, I could have used your help a little sooner. Why did you take your sweet time stopping by?

No food for me last night - just some broth. But no food for me today either. I can't chew, I can't open my mouth too wide and even yawning hurts.

Oh, and my bite is off. It looks like I might have to go back tonight for round 2.

Laparrotoscopy

2010-03-08T07:25:00.006-05:00

You never know when you might need a parrot perched on your shoulder. Mine had been recently showing its age and it was time to do something about it. After retiring from his duties as mascot for The A.C. Pirates, Parrot had let himself go: he had lost some feathers and those that remained hung loosely.

With the help of shoo goo, last night I performed a laparrotoscopy on him. There's no cure for baldness, but I think the feather-over becomes him. I'm glad to report he's recovering well and will soon be back in shoulder perching shape.

Taste of Coogan's

2010-03-07T21:44:00.004-05:00

For those of you who missed it, here's a slice of this morning's awesomeness. I made it to the video. I'm at 1:58 on the left in white and gray as I get ready to cross the Start line. And I'm even smiling and looking like I'm having fun!

Fried Chicken Running

2010-03-07T21:26:00.007-05:00

The lingering creakiness from last weekend was gone by Tuesday. This morning I set out to Washington Heights to see if I could match last Sunday’s personal record setting pace. Today was the Third Annual Fried Chicken & Waffles Race, known to others as Coogan’s Salsa, Blues, and Shamrocks 5K and I was ready to try something new.

At most NYRR’s races there are photographers snapping away. A few days later you get an email offering prints and other products so you can forever preserve the image of your sweaty grimace. Makes a good gift, they say.

I disagree, but I still look at the pictures. The way you can’t avert your eyes from horrible images even as you try not to look, I am drawn to these pictures from races. They’re not flattering, but what bothers me the most is that in them I don’t look like I’m running: both of my feet are touching the ground.

You can't get anywhere if you keep both feet on the ground the whole time.

I’ve gotten good at doing the old lady shuffle – I’ve even gotten progressively faster – but I haven’t earned the right to it. When I’m sixty, I’ll be happy to start working on perfecting the little old lady shuffle.

Right now, I need to work on letting go of fear. I need to push off, one foot at a time, and not be afraid of where that might take me.

Today it took me to Fort Tryon Park, past marching bands, bag pipes, mariachis, and a view that spanned the Hudson and the George Washington Bridge, all the way to my prize: a new personal record followed by a green bagel courtesy of NYRR and fried chicken and waffles (plus a side of cheesy grits and a buttery biscuit) at Amy Ruth's in Harlem.

But it doesn’t stop there. I need to keep pushing off and letting myself lift off the ground so I can move forward.

Fruit

2010-03-02T10:33:00.009-05:00

No. I did not bring you any. I already told you that even if I had managed to keep from eating it all, customs wouldn't have let me so stop pestering me. But I do have some answers for you. (The questions are here.)

Colombia has amazing flora and fauna diversity and will knock any country's socks off in terms of butterflies, flowers, fruit, and coffee - plus some other more famous exports that shall not be mentioned. This is just the tip of the fruit basket.

A.

Anna's Guess: Rainbow Olives
Brian's Guess: Applegrape. Great for making wine!

They are ciruelas. Wiki thinks they are similar to jocote.

I've never heard of anyone using them to make wine, but it might not be a bad idea. I imagine it would taste like a light dry plum wine with a hint of citrus. They are vaguely similar to large green olives in terms of size and different textures, with they have a large hard pit. The red ones are ripe, juicy and sticky. The green ones are harder and best eaten with a dash of salt. Delicious in all stages of ripeness.

B.

Brian: Nougatberry. It tastes like candy with nuts in it!
Anna: Eggplant Turnips

It's a Mangostín. It's definitely eggplant colored and it does taste like candy. Ever had Trader Joe's freeze dried mangosteen? Worth the check-out line but it is highly addictive so be careful

C.

Anna:Poppy Thornberries
Brian: Colombian pricklypear. Like the one from the American southwest, but sweeter, with hints of vanilla.

It's a pitaya - a kind of yellow dragon fruit. I've seen red dragon fruit at the co-op but I've never tried it so I can't compare, but if you ever bump into a pitaya, just grab it, cut it open, scoop it out and eat it before anyone steals it from you.

The flesh is firm but soft like a medium ripe banana, but it is refreshing and the tiny seeds make it crunchy. Lightly sweet with a cherry lemonade aftertaste.

D.

Anna: Slimy Sesame Oranges
Brian: Mandrita. A cross between a pomegranate and a durian. Only smells a little bit funky.

Think sweetly fragrant oysters with a light taste and you're on the right track.

I once met someone who worked as a private chef in Colombia. When he found out I was from there, he grabbed my arm and asked me if I had ever been able to find granadillas here. He'd been haunted by their taste and had been unable to find anyone who had even heard of one and was starting to think he had dreamed it.

Nope. It's real. And it's real good. I've never had it anywhere else, but Wiki doesn't seem to think it's that rare.

E.

Brian: Revolution fig. Like a large mission fig, but more tangy.
Ann: Mini Melon Raisins

Níspero - I hear it is similar to sapodilla.

Though not quite as furry as a kiwi, the skin has a similar texture and you eat it in a similar way. The flesh is very soft and melts in your mouth. It tastes almost like caramel.

Off to have second breakfast - this post left me hungry.

I've seen mangosteen and red dragon fruit at the co-op and in Chinatown. Has anyone else had any of these, found them here, or have the scoop on other amazing fruit?

Prizes and Winners

2010-03-02T08:02:00.010-05:00

There is a moment in a blogger's life when the compulsion to have a contest or a giveaway might strike. If the blogger is the kind to get carried away by ideas regardless of practicality or potential embarrassment like yours truly (see The Great Jell-o Wrestling Adventure), the post might go up before panic strikes: what if no one participates?

Thank you all contest participants for saving me from that fate: both of you! I am happy as an iguana on sun-warmed roof tiles (trust me on this one, they love it).

And now, the lucky winners.

Top Entry Winner: Brian
Random Grand Prize Winner: Anna

Congratulations and thank you for participating! I will contact both of you to arrange for prize delivery. You'll be receiving a handmade goodie bag filled with Colombian snacks including but not limited to:

1. Coffee Delight - exactly that
2. Tamarind balls - tangy concentrated sunshine
3. Frunas - sweet gummy chews
4. Bom Bom Bun - the best gum filled candy on a stick
5. Mani Moto - peanuts covered in a sweet and salty hard shell
6. Manjar Blanco - there are no words
7. Arequipe - Colombian version of dulce de leche

Thanks all for participating and stay tuned for when I reveal the real names of these fruits.

Stiff and Creaky

2010-03-01T07:28:00.005-05:00

Like a rusty hinge that won't turn. Getting out of bed today and moving about, I'm feeling one hundred and three years old.

It could be that my body misses sleeping on a hammock.

Or it might be residual stiffness from Friday's cramped flight back from Colombia.

Though my having smacked into a tree on Saturday while sledding might have something to do with it.

Yesterday's race could also have contributed. I ran the Al Gordon in Prospect Park and beat my previous NYRR record. I'm still far behind my Turkey Trot pace, but since I went in wondering if I'd be able to survive it, I'm counting it.

And even thought I'm stiff, I wouldn't change a thing about last weekend.

It's all about the little victories.

A cat walks into a plane...

2010-02-27T09:50:00.005-05:00

The journey started at 3:30am fueled by pinta’o coffee my mom made to get me out of the hammock. The Barranquilla to Panama leg of the trip was sleepily uneventful, but the volume got turned up Tocumén Airport. There were screaming children at the gate and we hadn’t even begun boarding.

After noticing the facebook and twitter New York snow reports, I had packed my carry-on so I could comfortably survive the day if I got stranded in Panama or if my flight got re-routed to Wasilla but I had failed to pack noise canceling devices.

When I got to my seat at 28E – back of the plane, wedged between aisle and window seats – I found one of the screaming children placed on 29E, and a large man whose leg was spilling out of the confines of 28F and encroaching into 28E territory.

I took my place hoping the flight might not be full and I’d be able to move a seat over. My seatmate was a chatty Spaniard. While he was sharing with me the outrages of Panamanian customs taxes I might have missed the arrival of my other seatmate if I hadn’t heard her.

She was Canadian and was carrying a mewling case.

Don’t get me wrong. I like cats, I like children, and I have nothing against chatty Spaniards or even Canadians, but not all at once and definitely not while flying and within a one seat radius of me.

When I realized my seat didn’t recline and that I was stuck with an elbow rest hogger (the Spaniard) I was ready for the longest five hours. Maybe I’d get a funny story out of it.

No such luck.

Rufus the cat quieted when he was placed under the seat. The Spaniard and the child both passed out after take-off. Elbow hogging was controlled after I staked my rightful claim on it when they distributed the meal. Whip it, Where the Wild Things Are, and Dexter helped kill time.

The plane landed, customs didn’t even sniff my bag for all the edible goodies I brought back (want some? There’s still time to enter the giveaway - the odds of your winning something are high!), and I had an easy commute home from Newark.

The problem? Now I want to play (?) roller derby.

Sleep in a warm climate

2010-02-25T21:17:00.005-05:00

Dear Bed,

The hammock days are over. See you soon.

Sleepily yours,

Majo

Giveaway: guess the fruit

2010-02-25T19:37:00.015-05:00

A.

A game and a giveaway, because I'm happily stuffed and feel like spreading the joy.

Name the fruit - its name or what you think it should be called - in a comment to this post to enter. Submissions that include information whether real or imagined about it get double entries into the draw. You need to name only one to qualify but are allowed as many entries as you like.

There will be one grand prize winner from a random draw and other prizes to top entries. All prizes will be edible Colombian goodies but due to customs regulations there will not be fruit - besides, I ate it all.

All entries must be made by Sunday Feb 28th 2010 at 5pm EST to be considered. Winners will be announced by Tuesday.

Rules may be changed without further notice.

Name away!

B.

C.

D.

E.

The remains of the fruit.

Grave Psychological Problems

2010-02-23T12:23:00.003-05:00

Every day after morning mass, my great-aunt comes to spend some time at my parent's purportedly visiting my grandmother. This morning while working on the crossword puzzle we had the following conversation.

GA - Ay! Your cousin got a terrible psychological from even before her baby was born.
YT- What?
GA- She doesn’t like to answer the phone when I call or when her dad calls.

More later on the subject of grave psychological problems my great-aunt worries about including why I shouldn't run so much.

It's a bird! It's a plane! No... It's a planter!

2010-02-22T20:54:00.005-05:00

Dear tiny garden,

I know you're sleeping now under your blanket of snow, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm thinking of you. Every once in a while I take a peek and imagine what you'll look like next spring.

Unfortunately, I can't bring you anything from Colombia - immigration won't allow it - but I'll be back soon and once the growing season starts I'll do my best to get you looking this luscious.

Greenly yours,

Majo

PS. That fancy planter pictured used to be a tire.

Running hot

2010-02-19T22:00:00.003-05:00

Dear Prospect Park,

Today was my first run in a while. Running with the warm river breeze, I longed for the day when I can run again with you.

With muscle tension melting in the heat, I had an easy run. All body parts behaved, and if tomorrow is like today, I'll be able to run more and build back strength so I can run the Al Gordon with you.

Sweatily yours,

Majo

Plane food

2010-02-19T10:02:00.006-05:00

Dear Pantry,
I never thought I’d say this on a trip to Colombia, but I miss you. I should know better than to refuse food on a plane, but when they came around offering waffles or chicken tacos my stomach was confused.

My stomach has Indiana Jones delusions, but the truth is that it can’t handle too much change or excitement. Needing to be at the airport at 3:30am, it seemed best not to go to bed. My stomach hates it when I skimp on sleep. An anvil of tiredness hit me in the head the minute I got to my seat, but I woke up when we were taxiing and about to lift off: my favorite part.

That moment when the plane starts going down the runway as fast as it can until it feels as though it can’t go any faster and then it daintily stands on tiptoe. For a second it feels like just that, a light tilting, and the stomach does a little flip of joy and you know the improbably has happened: you are flying in the belly of a great big hunk of metal.

As soon as I made sure we were safely in the air, I fell right back asleep and woke up parched, to the waffle or taco question. I was too thirsty to even consider a sweet waffle, so taco it was. But when I lifted the lid I knew I couldn’t do it. A chicken taco at 5:30am and without drinking. Wasn’t happening.

Taking the taco out of the equation left me with a small serving or fruit and a dinner roll, which I ate. But now it’s nine am and I’m starving. Thinking of you, dear Pantry.

Once I get to my parents (late lunch!) you won’t hear from me much, Pantry. But I’ll bring you something yummy!

Hungrily yours,

Majo

PS. Camera says hi. Slept the whole way, resting up for Colombia. Not much to see on the plane anyway.

Update: after almost missing my connection in Panama City due to excessive blogging, I made it home. Glad to report there have been no more hunger incidents since then.

Come back to me

2010-02-16T09:03:00.009-05:00

You thought you were so clever, leaving like that to see how long it would take me to notice you were gone.

I know I haven't been spending as much time with you as I should, as I said I would, but that's no excuse for leaving without a word, or an image as is more your style.

Last Sunday I looked for you. Yes! I had a Valentine for you. It was something worthy of sharing with you, but I already ate it. Sorry. It was delicious.

You're going to miss even more if you don't come back soon, Camera. Either you turn up by tomorrow evening, or I won't take you to Colombia.

Have you forgotten what it's like in Barranquilla? Remember the sun? It's bright and it spills light everywhere making colors come out of hiding. Green in particular. Remember green? You used to love it, Camera.

Then theres all the food. Forget apples and bananas. Think níspero, maracuyá, corozo, guayaba, curuba, tamarindo. Do you really want to miss all that? It used to make your shutter tremble in excitement.

Look, Camera. I understand you're upset. I'm sorry. I promise things will be better once things calm down at work come spring.

It looks like you're going to miss The Frosty Ball tonight, but don't let pride come between us. You know you want this as much as I do. We'll go to the beach and you can take some panoramic pictures of the Caribbean Sea.

You'll be able to let your focus play with close-ups of ginger blossoms, and I promise to let you zoom all you want.

I miss you. Camera, please come back.

Re-booted

2010-02-10T08:29:00.008-05:00

After extensive research (Brian's recommendation on my post - thanks!) and careful deliberation (I'm not throwing away my boots!) I came to the conclusion that it was worth giving shoe goo a try this morning.

Shoe goo was fun to work with. According to the instructions on the package, it cleans off easily with acetone while still uncured. However, I have recently developed an obsession with nail polish so cleaning up stray clots and threads of goo while preserving my sparkly emerald green nails involved awkward maneuvering with stiff fingers.

The soles are reattached to the boots and my nails survived the process, but the timing is unfortunate and my boots won't be ready to go and play in the snow until tomorrow. I'll have to wear something else for the commute to work.

No snow day for me.

Pain and Fear

2010-02-09T07:55:00.005-05:00

What's trickiest about running is the mind. Thoughts can take us far or they can put us in a dungeon under lock and key. Mine is a heartless warden.

Last Saturday I went to the Armory. I planned on doing a a cardio session on the elliptical. Since I'd been having problems with my knee/hip/ankle, I thought the low impact elliptical would be kind to me. The work-out: progressively increase speed at one minute intervals for four minutes, then drop the pace for one, repeat five times for a twenty-five minute session.

What I love about this method is that at the top of the interval you can work your ass off knowing you're only holding that pace for one minute. When you release and slow the pace, your body cries out, begging you to go faster, but you tell it no, not now. Slow, then fast, then slow. So good. When you're done, you're drenched and tired. It's a very efficient way to develop stamina.

After three weeks of not exercising (I'm not counting the broomball games or the bike rides to the co-op) it felt good to be moving. The elliptical and I, we were going places - if only on loops on the screen. When my time was up I had to talk myself out of staying for an additional interval or two.

When the work-out summary popped up on the screen, it showed my average pace as 8:24. My last recorded pace was 13:27. Maybe I've been imagining I'm slow! Maybe I need to start running faster. I was having all kinds of lightning fast races in my head. Medals! Trophies! Then the morning after came.

I got out of bed at 5:30am on Sunday, ready to hit the Gridiron Race in Central Park and run on the lane for the Saints (Go Saints!), only to realize I couldn't walk. My calves were solid knots of twisted metal and refused to take a step forward, much less take me to a NYRR's race.

Pain plays tricks on the mind. Am I sore, or am I injured?

I'm injured. This feels like an injury. I must have pulled my calves. This will take six weeks to heal. I need to be careful not to re-injure it when I when I get back. Otherwise I'll get a tear. I'm probably going to hurt them again. I'm never going to be able to run - I'll never exercise again. I won't be able to do anything fun. I'm going to turn into a cranky old hag that nobody wants to spend any time with. I'm going to die without having had sex again!

Please don't ask me to give you any more details about how my mind gets there, but given any remotely scary or unfortunate idea, you can count on my mind jumping to that conclusion.

Maybe I should try stretching and being good to my calves before I panic about the future.

Re-boot

2010-02-08T07:42:00.004-05:00

My first winter in New York, I was told I needed to get a pair of snow boots. Since back then I didn't like skidding over ice, I bought myself a pair.

Last Tuesday as I laced them, I thought they were starting to look a little shabby. This winter has given us so little snow that I've mostly been wearing a pair of light ankle boots. They're cute, but they give almost no support and my ankles had been complaining about it.

The snow boots, not too cute, but my ankles love them.

Around mid-morning and without warning, the sole came off. Rubber bands and gaffer tape came to the rescue so I could finish the day and make it home safely without tripping.

The boots have already provided ten years of service, but I'm reluctant to retire them. I get very attached to comfortable shoes. When we've had some good times together, I find it hard to say good-bye. There are so many ugly shoes out there and so many uncomfortable ones that when I find a pair that fits well and treats my soles with respect, I want to hold on to them and never let them go.

Sometimes it takes parts falling off for me to finally accept the inevitable.

Other times it's the look of horror on my mother's face. She suffers when she sees her daughter wearing hole-ridden shoes and her impulse is to want to take me shoe shopping.

The problem is that I don't want new shoes. Not this time. The sole came off cleanly, and the tops though weathered, still look respectable.

I'm thinking glue.

Better when we're together

2010-02-07T13:26:00.004-05:00

When my pocket buzzed at around six on Friday evening, I ignored it and continued working. I had gotten an email from Mike's Tech Shop telling me Mac would be ready on Saturday by 5pm, so I assumed the phone call was from a friend I'd be meeting shortly. I was up to my gills in a client's year-end tax preparation and needed to focus in wrapping things up.

A little over an hour later, I checked the message - Mac was ready to come home. Though the shop was closed, they waited for me and opened when I banged on the door, eager to be reunited with Mac.

Mac and Mike got along very well, and Mac had nothing but good things to say about Mike and his crew. Staying at Mike's was like spending a weekend at a fancy bed & breakfast, where you can get a cozy bed and buckwheat pancakes with a smile, instead of a cookie-cutter room and continental breakfast. Though service through the genius bar had been great, it was just that - service. Mac felt that staying at Mike's had been more like hanging out with a pal.

And it was cheaper than Tekserve.

With his renewed youthfulness and vigor and the wannabe blizzard raging outside, we've barely made it out of bed. The weekend has gone by in a blur, but now it's time for things to get back to normal.

For a bit.

Comforting

2010-02-04T19:16:00.003-05:00

That was a comforting email. Hopefully we'll be together again as of tomorrow evening. And then.. Oh, the places we'll go!

On my own again

2010-02-02T07:58:00.007-05:00

Spa retreat this time. Mac is feeling old in spite of the new motherboard and spiffy cover. Longing for speed and lured by the fountain of youth of added ram, Mac will check in to a facility today. Tekserve most likely.

That means silence from this end for a couple of days, but it will be worth it! With a faster more supple Mac, I'll be able to pursue some video projects that have been tumbling in my brain.

An the unwieldy manuscript will be manageable again, right?

Teeth

2010-01-29T07:12:00.003-05:00

They’re kind of important, which is why I decided to get myself dental insurance. I figured if I go get them cleaned twice a year it will be worth it. Since I’m paying for it, I’ll make sure I go at least twice which is many more times than I’ve gone in… oh, I don’t know how many years.

The problem is that I’m afraid that once I go, I’ll have to keep going. I’ve been doing my best to keep them in good shape, but I know I might have a couple of cavities and one cave in there. I suspect a small family of troglobites has taken up residence.

Once a dentist gets wind of that, I suspect they’ll want me making weekly appointments and start excavations post-haste.

And then there’s the case of the missing teeth. My front teeth, they’re not really mine. I was born with no lateral incisors and no wisdom teeth. I had incisors as a kid, but when those fell out there were no new ones to replace them. And the wisdom teeth are never going to come out – they’re just not there.

Incisors are for holding, grabbing, and gnawing. They say we don’t need them as much anymore thanks to technological advances in silverware and chopsticks. Wisdom teeth are even more useless and tend to cause more trouble than they’re worth.

Six teeth down, I’ve been told I’m more evolved than you.

Except that I like looking like I have incisors, so I have porcelain caps. Permanent cosmetic caps usually last a little over a decade. Mine are now closing in on two and I half expect the dentist to tell me I need new ones.

The only thing not worrying me about this appointment is my lack of wisdom teeth. There’s nothing they can do about that.

A call to arms

2010-01-26T06:34:00.009-05:00

As mentioned earlier, I bailed on running the NYRR's half-marathon last weekend. Friends who ran it did well, and I'm glad for them (congrats Kate & Jim!).

Application for guaranteed entry for the ING New York City marathon opened yesterday and I'm ready to launch phase 1 of my marathon training program in which I will continue doing what I've been doing (running!) and combine it with more of what I need to be doing (running!) in order to develop the necessary strength, stamina, and fitness to keep running.

So what's new?

The Armory.

News and rumors about a new indoor track had been floating around Park Slope for months. When Fucked in Park Slope announced in its gleefully profane way the Armory was opening soon, I knew I had to get myself there and check it out.

Boy, oh, boy! It is lovely. I had to force myself not to drool on the track, and as if that weren't enough, they have most things that any gym has (who needs a shower anyway?).

I've already signed the dotted line and I'm so excited about it I had to make this video for you. (Make sure the volume is on.)

Update
You can find my two seconds of blog fame here and here.

No-half, please!

2010-01-23T19:28:00.007-05:00

Running two bridges was fun. I did seven miles. My knee held up, but it was giving me not-too subtle hints that I needed to be careful. Eight miles was surprisingly peaceful and my knee didn’t hurt. I thought it would be smooth running from there on to the half.

The following week I ran the New York Road Runner’s Fred Lebow Classic. It was 5m. I don’t know if it was the cold or the maclessness, but I was struggling through everything I was doing that week. It was the coldest, hardest five miles I have ever run.

I knew it wasn’t just the temperature – I’ve run outside when it’s been colder - but that didn’t help. My knee and now my hip too were complaining. Though I managed to drag myself to the finish line, at 13:27 minutes per mile I might as well have walked.

A big part of the problem was fear. I had a busy weekend that included a five mile race and a nine mile run. A friend suggested I run the race then continue for four more. I knew it would be hard: it would require not carrying a bag with me and skipping the bagel.

Ditching the bag meant not having a dry change of clothes to look forward to, but the nine mile stopping point left me right by a subway entrance which made the cold less of an issue. A change in the routine was scary, but I thought I could handle it. The bagel was another matter.

One of the city’s best-kept secrets is the New York Road Runner’s bagels. Sure, everything does taste better after a good run, particularly when it is free, but I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say the bagels they hand out after races are the best. If you want proof, just go stand past a NYRR finish line and watch: you’ll get to see people wearing expensive running gear elbowing each other to get to the free bagels and greedily grabbing as many as four at time. I wouldn't be surprised if many people ran NYRR races only for the bagels.

As I ran my five miles I couldn’t get the bagels out of my mind. My favorite is cinnamon. They make them without raisins. Thinking of skipping it made my heart heavy and my feet along with it. I was dragging in a sorry way – freezing and barely shuffling along.

At around mile four, I decided to put myself out of my misery and give up on the idea of running nine miles. My knee was hurting. It made no sense to continue. I crossed the finish line and grabbed my bagel. I even dropped a couple of tears as I bit into it.

Not one to leave well enough alone, I tried to go for nine miles the following day. My knee and my hip were both worse. I ran about four miles and had to walk home.
I haven’t run since and I’m not running tomorrow’s half-marathon. Though it pains me to skip the bagel, I don’t think I’m strong enough to run a half-marathon right now and I’m not willing to risk my knee and possibly my hip to find out.

Besides, what matters the most to me is not tomorrow’s race, but the one in November. And I'm sure that's going to be the best bagel ever!

For now, rest. But soon, I’ll be running again. The Park Slope Armory opens next week. With an indoor track, treadmills, and machines it has everything I need to supplement my long runs and get ready for the marathon. Best of all, with YMCA charter prices and a co-op discount I have no reason not to join.

Can’t wait!

Books

2010-01-22T07:44:00.006-05:00

Books have been keeping me busy this week. The other kind.

This is a busy time of the year for bookkeepers. As a freelance bookkeeper for photographers and photography agencies, right now I'm up to my elbows in 1099's and finalizing 2009 numbers for my clients. Things should go back to normal in about a week or so, just in time to get ready for tax season.

Bookkeeping is a good job for those who like attention to detail, and working freelance helps me make time to write. But that's not my favorite thing about this line of work.

I've gotten all my clients through referrals. Two of my of clients are photographers, two are photography agencies, and they're related. I work for photographer A, and I also work for Agency B who happens to represent photographer A. The same goes for C & D.

What I love best about this arrangement is I get to indulge my inner schizo and send myself emails like this:

From: Majo@PhotographyStudioA.com
To: Majo@AgencyB.com

Dear Majo,

Thank you very much for the agency commission invoices. All the amounts are correct, but you forgot to include the artist invoice numbers for last week's shoots. Please include and re-send.

Thanks,

Majo

New Roommate

2010-01-20T08:11:00.008-05:00

For three weeks I didn't have to worry about being ambushed with homemade meals, Brooklyn wildlife moving in, or Santa taking up residence in my planter. Then last night it all started up again: my neighbors are back from Australia.

When I got home late from the broomball game against the Secret Agents (3-1 loss), I found this little guy waiting for me, begging for shelter. I let him in and showed him to a cozy spot in the bookcase where he could sleep nestled by my wayward gloves. We shared a cup of hot chocolate before tucking in. He was still wired from the jetlag and wanted to hear all about the game but I told him he'd have to wait because I was tired and had to get up early for work.

I have the best neighbors.

Effective Habits

2010-01-19T07:18:00.009-05:00

They say it takes weeks if not months to create a new habit. Those whose yearly New Year's resolutions include flossing daily know this. To get used to doing something every day without fail is hard.

I must be a genius because in only two weeks I've managed to develop a brilliant new habit.

Since I work for several different clients and have keys to their offices, my key style best approximates janitor chic. For a while I was carrying all these every day. When my back started complaining about the extra twenty pounds in metal, I decided to use two carabiner hooks so I could easily move keys around and take only the ones I needed that day.

For years I've kept a magnet hook on my door. The minute I walk in I hang my keys there so I can always find them on the way out.

When I started using the two carabiner system I'd get the keys ready while I was packing up my bag for the day. I'd separate them then take the keys I needed, place them somewhere in my bag or in my coat, and hang the rest by the door. I'd finish getting ready, put on my shoes, and head for the door. I'd reach for the key hook but my keys weren't there - at least not the ones I needed.

So I'd to start frantically rummaging through my bag for my keys, which had to be somewhere in there. I'd start doing a headless chicken dance around my apartment looking for them until I managed to make myself late for work. After minutes if agonizing search, I'd finally find them in a coat or bag pocket and be able to head out. And I'd do this every day. For weeks!

Yeah. Some kind of genius.

The Dream

2010-01-18T07:30:00.004-05:00

Today I realized that though I did know the "I have a dream" quote, I had never heard the speech it came from. In my defense, I should say I did not go through the American school system and that Martin Luther King is not as well known in other countries as he should be.

My knowledge of Mr. King is hazy at best, but I wonder how many of you know what Simón Bolivar's dream was.

Yeah. That's what I thought. So get off my case and enjoy the day off.

My Haitian cousins

2010-01-17T09:10:00.011-05:00

My mom has a painting like this one hanging over the living room couch. It’s Haitian Primitivism art and one of her favorites. Thanks to my cousin’s accounts, while growing up I imagined Haiti as a no-homework paradise where candy flowed freely.

Of the thirteen cousins that plagued and hounded my life as a kid, there were two I didn’t see much. They lived in Haiti. They rarely visited. We never visited. The family spoke of their dad in hushed tones and I never managed to find out why they left Colombia suddenly.

When they visited they brought with them larger than life paintings and even larger stories. My cousins spoke of their mansion and their swimming pool while they complained about having to share a room with us and asked us how we could live without air conditioning. They talked about Aristide and the things he did as if they knew him personally. They looked down on our food and switched to Creole when they wanted to make fun of us. I would have abandoned my family and all my books behind without a drop of guilt to get to go back to Haiti with them.

They don’t live there anymore. My aunt split up from her husband who now lives in a state run facility in Florida. My cousins grew up and stopped bragging about Haiti.

Even though I eventually smartened up and figured out Haiti was not the utopia I imagined, I always think of Haiti fondly.

I’ve always been skeptical of donations. You can’t give everywhere and there’s always a cause, a disaster, a catastrophe needing money. Who am I to play God and decide who should get my help? Since I can’t give to all, I give to none. Besides, with all the necessary bureaucracy tied to getting my money from my wallet to where it is needed, of the $10 I might give, only 10c might make it to those I’m trying to reach – if they’re lucky. And I’ve always thought it’s better to help locally.

So I don’t give. Ever. Except this one time.

Because the situation in Haiti is so sad and so desperate that even if they only get 10c, if there are enough others giving, it might amount to some help. And they need the help.

If you’re not sad enough to give, go read Richard Morse’s hourly account of the earthquake and the days that followed.

There are many ways to help - from texting donations to dropping off supplies at collection centers (wanna drop off stuff in NYC tomorrow?). I don’t know what's the best way to give. I don’t know if our meager efforts will be any help at all. But I can hope, and hope provides a relief to sadness.

If you haven’t donated, take a look at this article. It includes a long list of the many options there are to donate funds for relief.

Good luck, Haiti. I hope you come out of this and get to build yourself a stronger and even more beautiful country.

Picasso goes for a walk

2010-01-15T10:19:00.006-05:00

Yesterday morning I was at the Atlantic/Pacific station waiting for my transfer. As the crowded train approached I realized I wouldn’t be able to continue reading and I looked for the bookmark to put it away. It wasn’t anywhere in the book.

I flipped the pages front to back. Nothing. I opened up my bag and poked and rummaged through it while getting my head almost all the way in. No sign of it there either. I lost it the way I always do – it must have fallen off the book when I took it out on the platform while waiting for the earlier train.

There it would be, lying on the ground waiting to be trampled or getting coffee spilled on. Or maybe it had been blown on to the tracks by the swish of wind that precedes the coming of trains where it would end its days flattened and sliced by the power of the machine and its hundreds of commuters or be electrocuted by the third rail.

The poor bookmark didn’t deserve it. A gift from a friend who had recently been to Barcelona, it should have been kept safer. I’m a careless bookmark keeper and now the poor Picasso cats would suffer the consequences.

I grabbed a receipt from my wallet, stuck it in the book, and got on the train to go to work

It was a long, slow day with nothing exciting to report, but when I got home I found the Picasso cats bookmark back on my bed.

Every once in a while we get a glimpse at the secret lives objects lead while we’re not looking. It’s because of a hint of that knowledge that we repeatedly lift the couch cushions looking for a remote that wasn’t there the other three times we looked – because sometimes we find it the fifth time.

Just like I found this.

Every time I went to the co-op I would check the lost and found bin for the glove I lost in late December. It wasn’t there any of the other times I checked, but when I saw it last time I went grocery shopping I couldn’t contain letting out a noise like a cat who’s found a fly on his side of the window.

The two gloves are happy to be back together, but I wonder when I’ll hear about what happened between when I lost it on 12/29/09 and when it decided to make its way back to me and join the other forlorn inmates of the co-op lost and found bin on 1/02/10.

Infamy. Definitely.

2010-01-14T08:06:00.005-05:00

Last month I mentioned having participated in a shoot. What I didn’t say was that Glenn Glaser and Nerve were shooting two different features that day. I was hoping they wouldn’t run the second one, or that if they did my picture would not be chosen. No such luck.

On Thursday I got an email from a friend who noticed it on Nerve. Since I was not blogging and had limited computer access, I had some time to think about whether I wanted to mention it or not. Was leaning towards not. Then yesterday Lizz reacted with surprised expletives at finding my mug on Jezebel.

Both the original feature and the abbreviated version on Jezebel have sparked not so much discussion as sharing. Virginity, having it, losing it, giving it, is something we can all relate to in one way or another. Even the briefest of comments hold stories that speak of what we all have in common – moments of vulnerability, dreams, fears, and the desire to love and be loved.

I can’t remember if I was eighteen or nineteen, but I remember everything else very clearly. I fancied myself an independent free thinker not bound by the demands of society and tradition. Having grown up in a strict Catholic household and spoon-fed daily rosaries at vespers, I was determined not to wait until marriage.

Oh, no sir! I did not wait. I did it weeks, maybe even months before we got married when I was nineteen and he was twenty-one.

And that was ex-husband #1.

Home is where the Mac is

2010-01-13T22:47:00.003-05:00

It was a rough week for us in both expected and unexpected ways. I thought I’d miss blogging and feel disconnected, which I did. What I didn’t realize was that my apartment would feel empty without Mac. This was mostly because of the silence left behind by the absence of iTunes, but there was also the element of having one of my preferred modes of communication - my link to the outside world - severed.

While I was home pining away, Mac was received in Soho then promptly whisked away to Memphis.

I almost didn’t recognize Mac when we were reunited today. Mac ended up getting a makeover and came back with a new case and logic board. Mac looked so good I thought it would be like meeting a stranger, but after powering on I realized it was the same old Mac. Same sweet Mac, but we had a lot of catching up to do.

Once we got home Mac told me all about the trip to Memphis. While getting cozy and having some tea, Mac shared memories of adventures on the road. I got to hear stories of pink bubble wrap, miniature purple unicorns with Philips Head horns, a compressed air fly-through, and a FedEx guy with hairy calves.

Mac told me the logic board change had been traumatic because identity and keyboard are tightly linked. The new keyboard is just like the old, so I told Mac not to worry about it, that I’d type away as I always have.

Welcome home, Mac. We’ve got a lot of work to do.

All out of Love

2010-01-07T07:21:00.007-05:00

Sometimes a relationship develops and you have a hard time imagining yourself apart from each other. Maybe you don’t spend every single waking moment together, but when you’re together things just click, everything is magical, and you go places you previously hadn’t imagined you could go –without leaving the bed.

Then, with no warning, it can be gone. Sure, there were signs, but you wanted to ignore them. That quick response to the touch is not there anymore and you want it back. You know it’s expected after three years together, but you do what you can to salvage what you had.

So you make an appointment with a specialist, you go over your problems, and he tells you it will be all right.

“We’ll have it shipped to you in three to five business days,” was what he told me last night.

“Did you back it up? Is it ready to go?” he asked. I responded with a weak nod and reached out to pat the case. He laughed. “Everyone does that,” he told me.

I walked out lost and confused. I have a loaner from work, which is how you’re hearing from me. I’m glad not to be completely on my own, but we have the awkwardness and hesitancy of forced intimacy between strangers without the joy of a new beginnining.

We both know this is just to satisfy a temporary need and not the real deal.

8 Miles

2010-01-05T07:26:00.005-05:00

Back before it got too cold to think, I decided to sign up for a half-marathon in January. I had just come back from an X-Country race and still giddy from the run and the medal, I registered for races all the way through March.

Having to train for a half-marathon would help me run during the holidays. It was a good plan until the temperatures dropped low enough for the Central Park polar bears to start missing the summer.

Last Sunday I was scheduled to do an 8miler. My knee had been cranky since my last long run. It had been sore for the New Year’s Eve 3miler, and I was worried about going for 8. But if I didn’t, I’d have to call it quits on the half. I wasn’t ready to do that without at least giving it a try.

With a -6 wind chill and a moody knee, my expectations for that run were very low. I did what I could to prepare. It was the first time I had ever run in that temperature and I was glad I had read Steve Stenzel’s article about keeping your feet comfortable while running in the winter. The red duct tape kept my toes happy. (Thanks, Steve!)

Maybe it’s all about expectations - have them too high and you’re bound to be disappointed. I expected to hate the run and have to bail either because of general misery or out of concern for my knee.

What I got was eight miles of joy. The first few minutes hit me hard but after a couple of blocks I was ready to take off a top layer and wrap it around my waist – which my butt appreciated.

I kept a modest pace and my knee didn't hurt. It was cold, I had to remove my neck gaiter which froze from my breathing through it, and there were droplets of ice hanging from my eyelashes. It was so windy the trees in Prospect Park were roaring.

And all that made it beautiful. Somehow. It sounds painful, but it wasn’t. It was peaceful.

Gloves!

2010-01-04T08:02:00.013-05:00

Last week I lost my dear glove and I was sad. I had another pair of city gloves, but I couldn’t find them. It was the one I wore when it was colder - fun tweed and leather with grenade shaped buttons. I knew I hadn’t lost them. I only wear them when it’s really cold, and if I had lost them while out and about I would have noticed, or at least my hands would have.

I couldn’t find them anywhere in my apartment, so having lost my black leather gloves I had to recruit my running gloves for general use. They weren’t happy about it and my hands weren’t happy about it, but it was temporary solution while I figured out what to do about gloves.

Before the week was out, a friend who had been gone for the holidays gave me a pair of gloves as a gift for taking care of her cat. (Thanks D!) Hers was woolly pair with cut fingers and a flap to cover them and my hands were happy when they tried them on.

So Saturday morning I headed over to the community garden on 6th Ave & 15th Street to compost. I take my compost down to the garden about once a week, depending on how much and what I cook that week. I was wearing my new woolly gloves. I was having a little trouble with the locks even though my fingers were exposed so I took them off. Gloves, not fingers. I was holding the gloves smushed in one hand as I struggled to open the gate.

After I finally got the locks off, I held them in my other hand and headed to the table near the entrance to leave them there. Since I’d rather not have my gloves on while composting, I was thinking of leaving them on the table with the locks to pick up on my way out.

As I approached the table I noticed there was a pair of abandoned gloves already there. They were covered in snow and frozen solid. Someone must be missing these terribly. I was thinking I needed to be careful not to leave mine there on the way out as this other person had, when I noticed they were tweed and leather gloves with grenade buttons.

I managed not to forget either pair this time. Thank you fellow garden members!

Dancing in the Street

2010-01-01T15:12:00.006-05:00

First there was the race. My fourteenth of the year: a 3M through Prospect Park starting at 11:15. Rain had turned to light sleet and traces of ice floated by as we ran. The blue moon reflected on the whiteness that covered the park's roads which were sometimes slushie, sometimes deliciously crunchy. It was an aptly named fun run.

Some friends met us after the race. The car and how close it was to midnight kept us from making our way to Grand Army Plaza. Since one car towing a week is enough, we kept the car doors open. We meant to plead the we-just-stepped-out-of-the-car defense if needed.

There was no traffic cop around to give us a hard time, but there were plenty of people who hadn’t quite made it to Grand Army and were enjoying the view from 9th St and Prospect Park West: runners leaving the course, teenagers trying to scrounge up a snowball fight, families enjoying the fireworks away from the crowd.

All of us in the mood to celebrate. Everyone full of joy.

The car became an oversized boombox, Manisha called a Soul Train, and we all danced. The teenagers affected reluctance for less than a minute before throwing themselves in. Little girls danced in the middle holding hands. Runners in tights and top hats flaunted their race numbers. Women with lavender and creamsicle colored up-dos danced gingerly. The group of dancers grew and shrank as people walking to and from Grand Army joined us for a song or two.

We caught the attention of a photographer. He said he was from the Post. Or maybe it was the Brooklyn Courier he said. Who knows. I was too busy dancing to pay much attention. Besides, I’ve got Ming’s photos to help preserve an unexpected moment of magic between strangers in Prospect Park.

Forget what I said yesterday about resolutions. Here's one for this year: dance more in the streets.