Summer Inside

Chilly and windy was what the forecast said.  NYRR even said they'd post an update at 5:30am about whether the race would take place. Damaging winds with gusts of up to 45mph were predicted.

Fleece lined crochet hat. Not intended for running.

That wasn't the case and the race took place as planned. Fearing the windchill I'd piled on the layers. By the time I got to the park I was toasty. I figured I'd keep on a few for the race: two pairs of thermal running tights, two long sleeve tops, one singlet, a head band and a fleece lined crochet hat, plus neck gaiter and gloves, of course.

Out of shape and unprepared was how I got to the starting the line.  I hadn't run since the previous Sunday when I'd participated in a relay and before then my running has been in fits and starts.

I wanted to get to the finish line. I started with Lindsay and stared hard at her ass as she took off. Maybe if I stared hard enough I'd be able to keep up with her. About a mile and half in we parted ways.

It was nice to get the hill done at the start. The wind wasn't so bad. By mile two I was starting to warm up. Then I hit that happy stretch of downhill that leads to the lake. By then I was wondering if I'd overdone it with the layers. I was getting really warm. I was sweating.

On that stretch of road, the sun was out high enough to clear the trees and hit me right in the face. It was bright. I lowered my eyelids and the race changed. I closed them just enough so all I could see was a few feet a head of me through my eyelashes. I couldn't see the bystanders in their thick winter jackets or the runners with their long layers.

But I could feel the sun in my face. And by then I was so hot I could pretend it was the heat from the sun I was feeling. Wear enough layers and move a little and you can make it so it feels like it's summer inside.

If I keep it up long enough it will be summer outside too.

For now, I'll have to take it one run at a time and hope for the best for the NYC Half. Unprepared seems to be the name of the game these days. It might not be pretty, but as long as I keep moving in the right direction I'll eventually make it. Wish me luck with that one.

Today, being so rested from lack of running paid off. A PPTC teammate caught up with me in the last quarter mile. I was just hoping to hold steady. She yelled at me as she passed me and egged me on to follow her. She kept checking in with me and I grunted back. Final results are still pending but I'm pretty sure I owe her a PR.

Thank you for the encouragement. Sometimes that's all I need. Isn't that all anyone needs?

NYRR Jingle Bell Jog Recap

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.

Staten Island Half Marathon

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.

Ready for the worst, hoping for the best

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.

Will run for cupcakes

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.

Gridiron report: Why I race

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.

Staten Island

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!

Still running

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?

Being watched

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

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.

Taste of Coogan's

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

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.

Running hot

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

Pain and Fear

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.

No-half, please!

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!

MMX

Roman numerals make everything cooler. And a year that looks so good in Roman numbers has got to be a good one.

I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. I make plans. I break things down into lists and I start tackling things one by one until they're all done. Whatever I want to accomplish, I try to figure out how to do it and then I do it – step by step.

Sometimes plans get revised. Others get ditched. Sometimes despite best efforts things don’t work out as planned. Sometimes the plague strikes. Life happens.

I had grand plans for 2009. I planned on getting an agent and selling a book. That hasn’t happened yet, but I’m revising my expectations, refining my plan of attack and moving forward.

But I’m not done with that one. In MMX I’ll get an agent.

And I’ll do my best to run the New York City Marathon.

Those are my two big plans for the year. There are also some other smaller ones. There’s even one involving a tiny panda, but I’ll save those as surprises for you.

Happy New Year! Accomplish all you want in MMX.

Dream it. Plan it. Live it.

9 + 1

All I did was ask for Theresa, introduce myself, and say I was there to volunteer. I was at the New York Road Runners headquarters ready to fulfill the last requirement for guaranteed entry for the 2010 ING New York City Marathon. I ran all my races, now I was ready to volunteer.

The goal of qualifying for the marathon had come as a whim. It was something seemingly impossible to strive for. There was not a chance I’d be able to run nine races in one year without my body falling apart, but I thought the striving would be good for me and that was enough. At best, I’d get in better shape and learn how to run.

I was wrong.

At best I found friends and strength that helped me live this year better. I also found a body that wants to run, that keeps getting faster and enjoys the road. And I have found the best post-race brunch company. And bacon tastes even better after a race.

I got goose bumps and tears watching the marathon this year from mile 6, and I can’t even begin to imagine what training for and running the marathon next year will be like. I don’t even know if I can make it, but I know I have to give it a try.

I’m excited about it and because of that I was excited about the volunteering.

Theresa gave me an up and down look. “Daphne!” She called out. “This one’s got a personality. Put her as a greeter.”

And that’s how I got the spend part of the afternoon yesterday smiling at strangers and directing them upstairs to pick up their bibs. My spot was right by the store cash registers so I got to chat with Celeste who celebrated her 75th birthday last week. When I mentioned mine had been the previous day she opened up the drawer of the register and gave me a marathon pen.

It looks like the perfect pen to log my runs, don’t you think?

Icy

Still windy and chilly. It will stay that way but that won’t stop me. It might slow me down, but I have to keep going. Besides - unlike Thursday morning - I have hot water by my side. Showered I can do anything.

By 8:55 am I’ll be shivering in Prospect Park, waiting for the race to start. Today is the NYRR Holiday 4miler and I don’t even want to acknowledge the temperature by writing it here, but the wind chill will be in the single digits.

This means the road near the water stations will be covered with ice and that I’ll have to be very careful when running past them. But it also means that the hot chocolate after the race will taste amazing.

Even more, it also means that it’s cold enough for me to run in my Santa hat and enjoy it. As if the hat weren’t enough, I’m also running with my posse and there’s no better way to stay warm on cold day.

Happy Holidays! Have some hot chocolate!

Comfort Zone

Yesterday I ran the Turkey Trot at a pace that was at least one minute and thirty seconds faster than my recorded pace with NYRR, which is a ton faster that I've ever run before.

As I mentioned earlier, I was running with six friends. One of them wasn't sure what her pace was but it sounded she'd be a little faster than me so I decided to try to keep up with her. Turns out she was a lot faster and though she was gaining on me I was able to keep her within view for most of the race.

It helps that she was wearing a bright top, but what matters is that I challenged myself. When I realized how fast I was going I got scared and slowed down a little but since nothing was hurting or feeling like it was about to break I kept going.

Today my quads and my back are achy but only in that nice way of sore muscles that have been asleep for a while. Not a single complaint from my ankles.

Maybe it's time to stop cruising. Maybe it's time to leave behind the fear of getting hurt, the fear of failure, and reach out for what lies just outside my comfort zone.

Turkey Trot

Here’s a turkey for you! Happy Thanksgiving!

This is my Turkey Trot medal from last year. It was my first and I’m off to try to get my second one.

Running the trot last year was a friend’s idea. I had never in my life run that distance and didn’t think I had it in me. But I decided to give it a try anyway, mostly because I knew it would make Thanksgiving dinner taste even better.

My friend ended up hurting herself a week before the race and I ran the turkey trot alone. I managed to complete the five miles, had so much fun doing so, and felt like such a champ that I decided to become a runner.

After the Turkey Trot I joined the New York Road Runner’s club. My new year’s resolution: to run at least nine qualifying races in 2009. Done. I’m thankful for that, but that was mostly under my control.

It has now been a year of running; a year of heart pounding heavy breathing as my feet strike the pavement. A year of pursuing strength and finding it in running. But best of all, it’s been a year of friendship.

Somehow, as the year went by, friends collected around running. I ran a half-marathon with one – the first time doing that distance for both of us. A dozen friend have cheered for me as I pass them. And a few more have run random races with me and others keep meaning to run races with me (you know who you are). There's one who has gone on Sunday morning runs with me even though he barely breaks a sweat keeping my pace. Another has waited by the runner's path on Ocean Ave with a glass of water to help me complete long distances.

I’m heading out to try to get another turkey medal. But the best part about today’s race is the company: I’ll be running with six other friends, and I didn’t bribe them to run this.

Thank you for friends. Thank you for running. Thank you for being there. Thank you for feeding me turkey.

And thank you, friends, for supporting this blog. Thanks to all those of you who know me, and thank you too, anonymous readers in Canada, Norway, India, and Japan! And thank you, google analytics! You make my day everyday!