Oh Everest, My Everest

Measly mileage in 2008.

2008-11-29T12:38:00.003-05:00

I have somehow run 10 races this year, including 2 FULL MARATHONS and 3 halves, and my annual total at the end of the 11th month is 347 miles. 347! No wonder running has felt so sucky this year. I only do enough of it to be able to keep doing it, but not for it to be enjoyable or for me to improve very much. If I started doing 20 miles a week today until the end of the year, I would still not even clear 500 miles in 2008 and most runners who do as many races as I do usually cover double that. Sad, sad, sad.

Now that I have big plans to become a Marine in the next year, I had better get my act together. Running fast is already ten times the suck of nice, easy distance running so I need to do everything in my power to pump up the juice and quit sucking wind. You know, that VO2 max stuff. I’ll bone up during my holiday break and be like butter all over that bread when I get back to college and the Mid-Atlantic winter at the end of January. I just ordered Run Less Run Faster on Amazon for airplane reading.

My sister called on Thanksgiving and said that she has started running 1.5 miles on weekdays with her neighbors, one of whom is also a beginner and another a marathoner who is trying to get more people into it so she can have buddies to train with. This is probably the best news I have gotten all year. While I don’t get to be with my sisters more than the one or two times a year I come home for holiday family time, it is really nice to look forward to actually being able to do something like this together. In the past few winters, I have gone running with my brother-in-law and sometimes also one of my brothers, but the sisters were never runners. I mentioned several times that neither was I, but you know how that goes. People do things on their own time.

This news comes on the heels of my other sister (the one married to the runner) telling me that she has been training to run races like the Muddy Buddy with her husband. She is really impatient and stubborn (as in stubbornly refusing to stretch after workouts because she is not flexible… which makes her less flexible and want to stretch less…) and she runs too fast for a beginner so she feels like she is done after about a minute of running. About a month ago, I talked to her about my marathon training group (for probably the millionth time) and how beginners like me often use a run-walk program to get through the mileage and build endurance gradually. That time she listened and reported back a couple days later that it was a huge success. I hope she is still running, too.

Just think, my dream finally coming true. When your siblings are between a decade and two decades older than you, it is a big deal to be able to play with them. I am imagining running with not just a sister but BOTH my sisters this winter and the idea alone is almost enough to make up for all the times none of those grown-up bastards wanted to play Scrabble or Stratego with their kid sister. HAH! Finally.

See more progress on: Run 1000 miles in 2009

Marine Corps Marathon 2008

2008-10-26T17:30:00.006-04:00

Clock Time: 5:43:08
Chip Time: 5:37:41
Average Pace: 12:53

I am effing exhausted and the mile 14 Tourette's is still in full force, but I did a pretty good job today (not the best, but decent) so here are the splits:

5K - 00:40:50, 13:08 pace, predicted finish: 5:44:20
10K - 1:16:21, 12:17 pace, predicted finish: 5:22:03
15K - 1:51:01, 11:54 pace, predicted finish: 5:12:00
20K - 2:39:46, 12:51 pace, predicted finish: 5:36:54
1/2 - 2:48:32, 12:51 pace, predicted finish: 5:36:54
25K - 3:17:41, 12:43 pace, predicted finish: 5:33:25
30K - 3:59:46, 13:08 pace, predicted finish: 5:44:20
40K - 5:25:13, 13:05 pace, predicted finish: 5:43:01

This is the race I should have run last year. I was hoping I could skip it and go right on to a big improvement. The first three splits had me coming in easily at 5:15, but then I really needed to use the portajohn right before mile 10 and I couldn't just keep running until I got to one without a line (that didn't happen until mile 20). So I waited TWELVE WHOLE MINUTES to use one, though I was at least clever enough to do it at the orange station so I could enjoy my little frozen slice of orange while waiting in line. Between the actual time wasted there and the rough start I had after standing still for 12 minutes, I could have easily made my realistic goal of 5:30. In fact, the 5:30 pace group caught up to me around mile 22 when I started to feel really bad, and I tried to stay motivated and keep pace with them for a while. That lasted all of a mile. Mile 23 rolled around and I realized that while they were doing run-walk like I had resorted to by that point, they were not doing 4/1s like me. They were doing something longer like 5/1 or 6/1, which might as well have been 60/1 or 300/1 considering the shape I was in. It couldn't have been too far off of my own system, but it was just enough to really, really hurt.

My joints seem okay, but my muscles are KILLING me. My calves and IT bands are the worst. I've never had to stop and stretch so much and even sitting still is agonizing with my IT bands wigging out on me. It's most certainly time for some vitamin I. I can't believe I thought I was going to do a speed workout this week. Like, did I smoke some crack when I planned on that and just not remember that I did? Seriously. A marathon is no joke. I take back what I said about 20-milers. Those babies are totally doable. Marathons are the ones that are like plane wrecks. Plain and simple, yo. The human body does NOT want to run that far. Ever. And when we make them do that anyway, they ruthlessly make us pay.

Two-word summary race report: OUCH! BOO-ya.

So close I can taste it.

2008-09-22T21:42:00.005-04:00

This weekend's 20-miler really highlighted how far I have come since last year at this time. The first indicator of the difference was my ability to walk around, squat, and ride my bike without an extraordinary amount of pain. I didn't even take any NSAIDS to kill the swollen knees! (And they didn't even swell until after I stopped running!) The cold shower took care of that in a jiffy.

Despite not putting as many miles in the bank in preparation for the big marathon withdrawal, my fitness level has been far above where it was at any other time in my life - with the single possible exception of when I was studying karate. I did some mean stuff in those three months, strength-wise, but even then I had nothing close to the endurance I have now. Aside from being in a general fitness arc that's on the rise, I believe I can thank riding fixie all over town since the end of last semester, working for the park service in a job where I had to hike around the sides of the highway carrying a GPS unit on my back, and continuing to run even if it wasn't as regularly as I would have liked. All of this really showed during every step of those 20 miles I ran on Saturday morning.

For one thing, I didn't feel significantly different in the second ten miles than I did in the first. That is pretty unusual for me, with the last five often feeling worlds worse than the first five. Yet it felt to me like a steady forward effort from beginning to end, instead of the game where I guess at which mile my nice day in the park degenerates into never-ending torture. (Yes, it really used to feel that way.) As I have always known about the marathon but perhaps not kept in mind nearly enough, running 26.2 miles is more of a mind game than anything.

The mind game of which I speak is not magic shoes or what do you think will happen if I put my foot in this blender. I am talking about the challenge of getting into the right mindset, of arming yourself with the right tools to succeed. The first step is always to begin with the end in mind (hat tip to Stephen Covey). I think this is where I really let myself down last year (and again in LA). My only goals were to have a good time (what does that even mean in a marathon?) and to finish. Finishing is a worthy goal, but why not finish and also push your limits? Why not see what you are capable of? This never occurred to me while training for MCM'07 because I think the idea of running a marathon was still sort of untouchable to me, and I inexplicably clung to the image of concerts and ball games where the people in the very back are having the best time despite having the worst seats in the house.

This year, my goal is pretty clear. I want to run it a lot faster than last year. Exactly how much faster is not as important because I have a second goal - to cover the distance with more or less a continuous effort. I'm not deluded, because I know things are going to get progressively harder and more painful as the miles add up, but I know that there is a vast difference between last Saturday and one year ago. I want this marathon to be more like last Saturday.

I am going on at length about all of this because I wasted a lot of time on unimportant things during this run, but I did manage to maintain a steady sense of forward momentum while I was running and avoid excessive walking. This was reflected quite accurately by the numbers. I had once again forgotten to turn off the auto-pause function so the timer stopped for every pit stop and loss of satellite reception, and that conveniently separated my short GU breaks (walking) from my getting lost and waiting for people breaks (standing). Leaving out all of the map checking and waiting for people fluff, I finished in 4:07:48 with an average pace of 12:23. This is a pace I can not only live with, but be quite happy about for a marathon finish. That would mean breaking 5:30, which is a significant improvement over my first two marathons.

The really encouraging news is that the actual time for this 20 (when I factor all of that wasted time back into the equation) is 4:40:14, which is a 14:13 pace. (As a reminder, my average pace at MCM'07 was ~14:35.) That means that the worst case scenario is that I continue to waste lots of time by hanging around at the aid stations for way too long and still I am better off than last year! Of course, I am NOT planning to waste so much time again, and am instead figuring out the best way to run with people who are slightly faster than me. There is one candidate in the group this year (my saint from the 18-miler), but she may turn out to be too fast on race day when she has no incentive to wait around for me. My other alternative is to sign up with a pace group. Either way, there are options. I am trying to con some friends from school into showing up on course to pace me for a while, too. This feels like a recipe for success.

VHTRC Women's Half Marathon Trail Run

2008-09-13T20:02:00.006-04:00

Official Time: 3:16:47
Average Pace: 15:06

I don't have a lot to say about this, except that it was a bloodbath. By itself, it is a challenge and I fully expected to finish in the neighborhood of three hours since my PR is around 2:43 and my first half was Riley's (what I thought was the hilliest of the hilly races), which I did in 3:02. Trail running is new to me and I have been told time and again to expect a much slower time because of the extra effort it takes to cover the terrain. Granted, I had a pretty easy time of the actual terrain thanks to all those day hikes Michele and Keith took me on in my teenage years, but the constant and rapid elevation change was definitely a killer. Not to mention the single track dirt "path" that made it pretty harsh to pass people who are going slower than you or who decide to start walking when you're not ready to do the same. It seemed like every time I got to the bottom of another hill, I'd have just enough energy to keep jogging up with the same effort I was using on my approach but not enough to go faster than that. This cost me many precious minutes as I'd often get stuck behind some walkers without the necessary juice to pass them.

So, I'd say 15 of those 30 extra minutes above PR were because of the race conditions, most of which I knew about in advance. (Next time, I'll quit thinking it's rude to pass nice ladies who start walking in front of me on a narrow, single-wide trail and make sure to save energy to get past them and stay past them.) The other 15 minutes I attribute to all manner of stupidity.

Bobo move #1: donating blood three days before the race after having spent the last 4 months accidentally losing weight because you haven't had time to eat as much as you used to.

Bobo move #2: going through with your blood donation three days before the race even though your period decided to start in the minutes it took you to make your way over to the building with the blood drive.

Bobo move #3: drinking less water than usual for the entire week preceding the race because your nalgene is smelly and heavy, and you don't want to make your bike commute to school more unpleasant than it has to be.

Bobo move #4: leaving your fuel belt at home and not being able to carry any fluids with you on a race through the woods with less than ample course support.

I guess the bright side is that the race premium was a sweet v-neck, short-sleeve performance shirt that happened to match my kicks. While this experience left a bitter taste in my mouth regarding my ability to perform adequately when I fail to plan properly, it did light a fire under my seat about trail running. I like all the muscles that were sore the next day and I particularly like that I didn't have to spend a single moment inside a gym to make them sore. Me and ol' Fountainhead are going to butt heads a few more times this winter and see if we can't be better friends.

Here are my photos at the two deceptively flat sections of the race:

Color me wet.

2008-09-08T17:40:00.008-04:00

There may be a piece of my brain missing, but I sure do love a good long run in the rain. Last Sunday, I spent three and a half hours slogging through puddles and wiping Tropical Storm Hanna out of my eyes to keep my contacts in. I am fairly certain I complained a lot (at least in my head), and felt like giving up just about every other second. But then I felt guilty for promising to keep a newcomer from getting lost so I did my best to stay with her despite my internal protestations. I was watching her heels and jumping over (or through) enormous puddles most of the time, so my mind was sufficiently occupied. I am thinking they should create a new track & field event - the marathon steeplechase.

The highlights of the run were the ridiculously steep hills at the turn around (miles 8-10) and a group of fellow runners' reactions to a sign warning not to touch the water because the creek was a sewage overflow area. I decided to just keep it to myself that the sign was referring to the water in the ditch about 10 feet below and not to the stuff that was coming out of the sky. I guess that's a little bit evil, but if you don't have enough sense to know that sewage overflow doesn't come from the clouds, then you probably deserve to feel a little icky from thinking that the rain falling on you contains urine. If there were actual human waste getting on them somehow, you can be sure I would not stay silent.

In any case, I am very grateful to the saint who slowed down to run 18 miles with me in order not to get lost because I surely got the better end of that deal. I am also glad to have passed the test I made for myself today! I increased my mileage by 50% in one week, which is generally not advisable, but I didn't injure anything and even made record time. MCM, here I come!

I'm kind of a big deal.

2008-08-30T22:14:00.005-04:00

Well, I'm no Ron Burgundy, but today I ran 12 miles at an 11:17 pace. That doesn't sound like such a big deal - it really didn't to me after I did it this morning - but it is. Let me tell you why.

While the whole Run For Kids team stood around me praising my victory, I had this the distinct feeling that I had done this before and couldn't understand why they were so proud of me. I was sure that I had done 11:15s on a long run at least once before, thinking specifically of the LA marathon in March. While I ended up finishing with a worse time than my first marathon that day, I stayed with my brother until mile 18 and I felt strong and fast up through the half and well into mile 15. I started to feel the pain around then and hit a wall (not THE wall, but it's unusually-painful-in-the-joints cousin) and slowed down drastically, eventually being reduced to walking by mile 19. It was walking the last 7 miles that did my great time in. So I must have been averaging 11:15s or 11:30s through the half, right?

Wrong.

I checked the records again and I was going fast (for me, at the time) but not that fast. I was averaging 12:45s through the half, and then the average dropped to 13:55s by the 30K (~mile 18-2/3). So I decided to sort my run log by average pace to figure out just how significant today was.

What I found is that the next best I've done on anything over 6 miles (and there aren't even that many 6-milers this high on my list) was the 10-mile club challenge in February, a week before LA. I averaged 11:35s, slower than today for two fewer miles, and that was only because I knew I wouldn't score if I took more than two hours.

Next on the list are the two Marine Corps half marathons: the inaugural Historic Half in May where I averaged 12:30s and the Quantico Half last September with 12:37s. I shaved off a full minute and a quarter from each mile today, and that's from my best runs. Not counting the handful of runs where I didn't wear my watch, today's run is tied for my 21st fastest run. Ever. And the one that ties it? A dinky 2-miler. Sure, it's possible that there are one or two times in life where I ran faster than that for maybe up to 4 miles, but I really wasn't a runner before last year and I could probably count on both hands how many times I had run a mile or more continuously before training for the 2007 MCM. Here's the breakdown of my 20 faster runs:

Best Pace - 10:03
Highest Mileage - 8

Frequency:
1 mile - 2
1.5 miles - 1
2 miles - 2
3 miles - 9
4 miles - 2
6 miles - 3
8 miles - 1

I would make you a histogram using R, but then I might be tempted to perform some kind of multivariate analysis to figure out what factors are correlated with fast running - and I don't have that kind of time. As it is, I can hardly keep myself from creating a frequency table. So I guess I should get blisters and feel like shit more often. Or, since one of those 6-milers (the other was the Butler Relay in March) and that 8-miler were in LA with Keith, I should find somebody to run with on this side of the country who is faster than me and doesn't leave me behind despite occasional pleas to do so as well as not-so-occasional verbal abuse. (People with virgin ears would do best to steer clear of me on the trails.) I seem to get my best results when feeling hostile. The overly talkative or cheerful need not apply. Oh, and I have to like talking to you for more than five minutes at a time without wanting to strangle you. Not everybody has the special qualities of a good brother-in-law.

(Gee, when I put it that way, it's a wonder people aren't lining up outside my door to go running with me!)

Marathon or 10K

2008-08-21T07:06:00.001-04:00

I’m seriously behind on training for MCM this October, but I am still in the zone where it’s possible if not probable that I’ll do it. Luckily there’s the downgrade to 10K option, though I’ll be pretty disappointed if I manage to train a lot just in time to figure out that it just isn’t enough. :\

I was pretty sore after my sad little 3-miler on Monday, but I (re)learned something yesterday: the best way to get rid of muscle soreness is to do more exercise. I ran 10K last night and did some similar leg/abs exercises to Monday’s workout and found that all of that lactic acid hanging out all over my body went away, leaving only some very tired muscles and a little soreness only noticeable upon serious flexing… pretty much confined to the quads. I guess I’m not really letting up on them with all this biking I’ve been doing on “off” days. Maybe it’s time for a real (if brief) rest.

Today is push-ups day anyhow. I’ll let my back and arms do all the tiring stuff tonight.

See more progress on: Run at least 10 races this year

More please.

2008-08-20T08:20:00.001-04:00

I was stretching out in the bridge position yesterday and decided to get on my tip-toes to try some push-ups. I only made it through five before I thought I was going to plant the top of my head right into the foundation of the house. Either these push-ups share no muscles at all with the garden variety push-ups or my back muscles are woefully underdeveloped compared to the rest of my body. I’m guessing it’s the latter since I’ve let my core turn to mush this last year.

A friend who does hapkido recommended wrapping my legs around a tree trunk and doing sit-ups and back extensions while hanging onto the tree. That should strengthen just about all the stuff that’s too weak right now. I’d love to start pumping out dozens of these right away, but it’s going to take some hunting for me to find the perfect tree… I’m slow to warm up. Have you met any nice trees lately? Maybe a nice douglas fir I could bring home to meet mom and dad?

See more progress on: be able to do handstand push-ups

Environmental improvements.

2008-07-21T13:08:00.001-04:00

I took off the stupid hand protectors this weekend since the velcro strips are bulky and dig into my hands anyway. The result? I want to be on that thing ALL THE TIME. I should have known all I’d need would be to have something shiny to look at… I am, after all, as easily amused as a five-year-old. But in all seriousness, those foam grips were really killing the process. They spread out just far enough for you to feel like you have to use them, but then they aren’t really placed at a natural width (at least not for my comfort). Sure I’d like to be able to do these with my hands shoulder-width apart but really I keep them a touch closer for chin-ups and totally wide for pull-ups (I struggle with those more, puny back muscles and all).

This morning I did 5 reverse negatives when I got out of bed and yesterday I did 10 (but only after some warming up). I’m only going about a third of the way down though, and that first third is always the easiest. The rest of it will be added in very small increments, but I’m going to make sure I’m always doing 5-10 before I come down. I may work up to 20 to build more endurance before dipping lower.

See more progress on: be able to do pull-ups

Middling progress.

2008-07-18T11:12:00.001-04:00

I’ve been making a point to put the bar up every day for a few minutes since I turned on the daily 43T email reminder, but I’m not too happy with the way things are going. My place is just sort of too small and low and dark. I can’t just leave the bar up because it blocks the door, so I have to do this deliberately and that is what really slows the progress. When I had one up all the time, I would make it a habit to hang off of it or try one or two as I walked through the door – every time I had to use the bathroom or go to the kitchen. Now that it’s this ordeal to put up and I hang too low and I have to be in this smelly corner by the front door I have been making minimal progress: as in I hang there for a while (definitely less than 30 seconds) and kind of squiggle around, unable to decide if I want to work on L-sits or reverse negatives. I end up half-assing both. Then I kind of just try to spin around on the bar while hanging at the bottom (to help with my trapeze goal too) but then I am in such a cramped space that I can’t do very much of that and I get bummed and put the bar away again.

I guess it’s time to just focus on one of those things, huh? Since this goal is about pull-ups and I only have about 2 weeks left on the challenge, maybe I can just worry about L-sits and the state of my abs later. Or you know, do crunches the regular old way. I just have to remember not to let myself get carried away by the awesomeness of hanging off of a bar. It’s such a huge reminder of how NOT strong I am when I am starting to feel too smug about my physical progress, but it also makes me feel overly ambitious, which sets me up for low morale and failure.

So that’s it, I guess. No more bar play (temporarily) – only pull-ups, chin-ups and flexed arm hangs (plus supplementary push-ups and dips) until August 1st and we’ll see if I can’t succeed at this goal despite the crappy environmental cues.

See more progress on: be able to do pull-ups

marine corps historic half marathon

2008-05-18T14:46:00.008-04:00

Clock Time: 2:46:00
Chip Time: 2:43:43
Average Pace: 12:30 min/mi

Today was a lot of fun! Despite my adventures in getting to Fredericksburg when the cops decided to shut down southbound 295 six miles before I could get to the beltway and the being completely disoriented in DC, I ran a great race today. As always, it could have been better. The last three miles left something to be desired, and it figures because that was when my merry group of Marines (or former Marines? or Marine Corps base staff?) disbanded as the two nice ladies got a surge of energy and the man with all the moto cadence lost his and dropped back.

My legs hurt something fierce, too. I think the muscles actually hurt more than they did during either of the two full marathons. Luckily, the joints were okay. I've had more knee and hip joint pain during most of last years training runs over 6 miles than I did today, so that's a good sign. I brought my fuel belt with me, too, so I could avoid the swollen hands I got at Frederick. Still, they swelled at around mile 9! I don't know what the heck is going on, but I want to figure it out fast. Ever since I started running a little faster, most of the noticeable changes have been positive (notably the vanishing joint pain), but I don't like where this is headed with the swollen hands. I brought a good amount of water, gatorade and GU that should have taken care of all my needs, but nothing fixed it until I stopped running, chugged so much water that I could barely walk and stretched. It's hard to believe that it was a lack of water since I was toting around a heavy, swooshing belly of it for the last 4 miles. I wonder if swollen hands may just be a signal that my body has had it (since I didn't really train) and any sort of strenuous activity does that as I reach my wall.

The annoying part is that they don't necessarily hurt (not unless I keep stretching out my fingers and squeezing them into fists), but that swelling is usually a sign for something that is wrong. Everything else feels okay to me. I am not doing a very good job of explaining it, but there is something terribly unsettling about having swollen hands. It's even more unsettling because my feet didn't swell today, and they at least matched when my hands swelled up in Columbia, LA, and Frederick. But there was no hint of the tingly feet today and almost no signs on the old tootsies that I did anything special today at all. So what's the deal with my hands?!

I'm hoping that this problem goes away as I become more responsible and start putting the miles in the bank at this new pace. This could all possibly be explained by the fact that I am only running maybe once a week and in long races, no less. But I may bring a packet of salt with me on the next long run to see if that's the issue.

On a separate note, the staff is taking forever to put up the results and I was too busy trying to pass people at the end to look at the race clock. I have NO idea what my time was since I'm still leaving the Garmin at home for all runs that are timed for me. Was it a PR (felt like it)? By how much? Or am I delusional? I'm hopeful I'll know something tomorrow. Sitting here refreshing my browser on the results page isn't going to make them post it sooner.

EDIT: The results are in, just not on the official race site. New PR, by just shy of two minutes!! I hope to match that at Riley's this year and maybe destroy it at Baltimore if nothing goes wrong.

Frederick Half Marathon

2008-05-08T16:58:00.007-04:00

Chip Time: 2:50:08
Average Pace: 12:59 min/mi

After driving 5 hours to a wedding in PA and then driving 3 hours back to MD to crash at a Holiday Inn late Saturday night, I rose reluctantly at 0500 to run in the Frederick Running Festival very early Sunday morning. Didn't sleep a lick, thanks to my vampire schedule, but I've done it before right? It's like what Shackleton used to say to his men during trying times in their Antarctic adventures: what I've done once, I can do a second time with no problem. (It was a lie when he said it, too.)

At this point, I have an apology for all the women to whom I've not shown proper sympathy during a run. I have experienced running during my special woman time before, and I never understood what was so awful about it. Sure, it was a bit uncomfortable, but not enough to complain as much as those other women seemed to do. I sure learned a lesson this week about the difference between it being your special woman time and the day (or first moments and hours) your special woman time begins. I learned because that special time came about 50 yards after I started the race, and I was not happy about it.

After suffering through two miles, I really thought I wasn't going to finish the race. I just did NOT care about anything except for crawling under a rock in the fetal position until my body decided to go back to normal. A Marine passed and encouraged me on sometime in the next mile, and I still didn't care. Well, that's not true. I cared enough to keep running until he disappeared from sight, but not enough to mentally commit to the rest of the race. I could always stop in a little while. My hands were already starting to swell up because the fluids were not staying in my bloodstream but instead having a party in all the tissue surrounding my reproductive system.

Somehow, though a series of distractions and distortions of my face, I made it to mile 6. It started to feel like a shame not to finish after going that far. I trudged through miles 7, 8 and 9. Around mile 10, the awful cramps of death returned and my swollen hands started to really hurt. I started taking extended walk breaks. By mile 12, I figured the HELL with it. I could just walk the rest of the way.

Then of course a very nice lady came up behind me and asked me to help her run the rest of the way. She said I gave her energy and I pretended I did because she was sure doing a great job of distracting me and she was a very nice lady to talk to! Nearing the fairgrounds, she thanked me and sent me off ahead of her to finish strong. Samwise appeared with some typically aggravating words of motivation shortly afterward. I gave him a kind shove and worked up to a sprint to end my suffering.

In the end, I still averaged a 13:00-min mile. It's slightly astounding to me, but I'm just trying not to think of that day too much. I'm just glad it's over. And now that I am done with my race report, I can officially let my brain bury that memory deep, deep down where I never have to think about it again!

Breaking the Seal (Yet Again)

2008-04-20T00:29:00.005-04:00

I really need to stop taking these long hiatuses (hiati?) from running. I haven't run since my last post. That is, until today. I guess I was getting the lazy streak out of my system before this year's MCM training starts. I plan to get serious this year. No more last minute sign-ups for Army PT and being too busy with work. I should be able to fit two mid-week runs into my schedule when fall hits again, even if they are just 3-5 miles each. And that would only be if whatever job I have by then happens to take a lot of time.

I had a good run, though. I decided to take the shortcut through the middle of the lake on my way back but then I got confused about the doubling back on myself part and chickened out before I got to my exit trail. I ran a little ways and realized I turned off onto the wrong section, but I decided that adding some distance wouldn't hurt. I ended up getting spit back out on the other side of the railroad, still near enough to my house. Did 4 instead of 3 miles, averaged an 11:26 pace. Not too bad for having taken over two weeks off.

I also tried to focus on that 3-2 breathing bullshit again. I'm starting to see how maybe one day I can fall into the pattern, though it hardly seems like it will ever feel natural. I had to take longer breaths sometimes, so I'd switch to 4-3 and the sometimes I just needed to swallow since my throat was dry and that'd take up a whole step. I started just letting the funny things happen (like inhaling half a step too late) and trying to make the exhale land with my foot, since that is the whole point of this odd numbered deal. It's just hard because all of my motivation, all the things I do in my head to distract me, they happen in even beats. Most songs don't have a five count, and when I start to think of intellectual things like the equations I've been learning in class or how much detail I want to include in my latest map, well then I basically start breathing in the nice steady pattern that helps me think clearly: 2 in, 2 out. It's no good running when you have to think about the fact that you're running the whole time! Didn't anybody tell this Kowalchik lady that? Breathing in odd numbers requires so much damn concentration on precisely that.

In other news, I volunteered at the PG County Crime Victims Fund 5K this morning and was utterly delighted by a tiny little boy who ran it. That's tough business for a little kid like that! It took him a little over 50 minutes, but he ran the whole way as far as I could tell. I don't think I could even walk around the block without whining when I was five.

After the run, Katrina asked the coach about a program for the returning marathoners since the program starts out at 3 miles and works up to the two 20s... I guess everyone (who likes to wake up early) will just show up earlier to run some extra miles, and the others may just skip them and run on their own. I'm not sure what I'll do yet.

I may show up early to put in some extra miles, but what I really want to do is run with a different pace group. I'd really like to lock into this 11:30 pace that surfaced when I ran just to run because the marathon was finally over. It still feels like my heart is about to escape from my chest, but honestly I felt that way when I was running 13s and 14s sometimes too and the only difference was that my knees hurt more and it took me longer. The biggest hurdle is getting used to this level of discomfort. It isn't inability, after all, just discomfort. The two no longer need to go together now that I'm not such a green runner. Since I want to put out consistent 11s instead of 13s, I wonder if I should start right back at the beginning and just pick faster people to run with.

At least I have another three weeks to figure it out. For now I'll just worry about getting out to the lake every other day or so and doing some miles. It's a lot more peaceful now that I turned off the laps on my Garmin - no more beeping to enable my obsessing over the miles and in the end I just get one big average pace instead of each mile's data, which I tend over-analyze. Here comes the marathon season, ready or not!

would be that I'd like a nice even number

2008-04-03T22:06:00.005-04:00

I'm making decent progress in The Complete Book of Running for Women between classes, map-making and playing around on my bike during draughts of nice weather. I think I figured out my right hip issue that surfaced in LA! (I say that as if it were good news.) Kowalchik suggests an odd-numbered breathing pattern - something like 3 in, 2 out for easy running and 2 in, 1 out for speed work - because the impact is slightly greater on the exhale. It follows naturally that if you're landing on the same foot everytime you exhale, you'll start to feel the effects eventually... say, during mile 19 of a marathon you didn't train for.

Apparently most people naturally fall into a 3/2 breathing pattern and don't need to think twice about it, but breathing rhythm is something us 2/2-ers are supposed to be very concerned about. "It may take some getting used to," she says (and I must say that that's an understatement), but apparently it should be done. Only let's rewind for a second:

I need to re-train myself to breathe.

What? The notion is absurd for several reasons, but it is hard to ignore the evidence in my right hip. I'll take her word for it and keep trying.

Of course, I'm always too ambitious for my own good and I also learned a few pages before the breathing tip that there is an optimal range of steps taken per minute. It's what makes the elite, high-efficiency runners high-efficiency. I don't actually know how many steps I used to take in an average minute, but I'm sure it wasn't up in the optimal range. So before I even knew about my breathing problem, I had already decided to try taking quicker steps during my next run. Looking back, I am sure I should I have decided to correct my bad/sub-optimal habits one at a time. I just didn't think of it yesterday. It was a good day to run and I wanted to run. I also wanted to try out all of the neat things I'd learned, building good habits right away so that the improvements might show by October.

So it was that I came to try both correcting my breathing pattern and taking more steps per minute than I usually do. As expected, my little jaunt around the local lake was unnecessarily unpleasant because of this little experiment in stupidity. It went something like this:

in - two - three / out - two
in - two - three / out - two
in - two - three - and a half / out - two - three
in - two - three / out - two - three (DAMN IT!)
in - two - three / out - two
in - two - three / out - two
in - toosoon! / out - two - three
gasp - two - three - four - and a half / out - two - three - four
in - two - three / out - two - three (GEEZ)
in - two / out - two
in - two / out - two
try - again / next - time
take - more / steps - now
breathe odd / la - ter
I - hate / run - ning
in - two / * sigh * - ... - .... - and a half
gasp - two - three / out - two - three
gasp - two / out
gasp - two / out - two
in - two / out - two
ad infinitum

COME ON. Was it all the trumpet playing in high school? Did I not play enough pieces with changing time signatures? Did the few I played make me dizzy? Help, I've fallen into an eternal 4/4 piece and I can't get up!

Butler Relay 10K

2008-03-30T12:13:00.014-04:00

Clock Time: 1:10:03
Chip Time: 1:09:03
Average Pace: 11:10 min/mi

Yesterday was the inaugural Butler Relay, the first in the 2008 MCM event series. I signed up because the MCM folks decided to offer entrants a coveted (non-comp) entry for the Marine Corps Historic Half (which filled up in 13 days). Since I ran the Quantico Half Marathon last September, which turned out to be the last ever Quantico Half Marathon to be hosted on MCB Quantico, I want to be a part of the first ever MCHH in Fredericksburg, which is what happened when MCCS handed the event over to the MCM people.

Now for the race report!

Having been sick for the last two weeks and still sporting a lingering cough, I didn't expect much. I purposely left the Garmin at home so that I could temporarily forget that I hate running. I just wanted to run as fast as I could without throwing up or having to walk. That seemed like a reasonable goal for a 10K (any longer and I may have had the nix the not walking part). But everything always changes once you get there and have a gander at the other people running the race.

At 0730 on a chilly morning outside the gym of a Marine Corps base, the first thing I see is that there are very few people there. In fact, it's almost like a club run, only this club looks way out of my league. It's a club full of active duty Marines and hard core non-Marine runners (as evidenced by their lean, gazelle-like builds). There are also a number of young people there, clearly the offspring of Marines and gazelles starting out their running excellence early in life. All of this is bad news for me because it reduces the number of slow people to keep me company in the back.

At the sound of the gun, I make myself focus on one thing: don't lose the pack. I start to think maybe I might be able to step it out and use their momentum to propel me forward. It's only six miles, right? I can handle feeling like I'm going to puke for six miles. Hell, maybe I even just puke and then keep running until it's over! I can do this. I can do it. Just don't lose the pack.

Within a minute, the pack decides to lose me. Don't lose the pack becomes don't turn around. If I turn around, I'll just see that there's nobody behind me and I'll panic. So, I don't. I don't turn around while I'm trying to stay with what's left of the pack. I struggle to keep up with the women in front of me and look around for the one who seems to be running the steadiest pace, finally settling on the one wearing headphones. She won't mind if I use her to pace me since she's listening to music anyway! Perfect. Wonderful.

I hover about 10 feet behind her for the first couple of miles, cursing myself for picking somebody who is going just a little bit too fast for comfort (and I use the term 'comfort' loosely). As we approach the first water station shortly after mile 2, I think hard about how badly I need that water. I don't need it too bad, but I'd sure love some if my pacer is going to stop... maybe she'll stop for water? That would be heaven. Please lady? Please can you stop for water?

Not a chance. Onward we go. Soon we are going past Butler stadium for the third time, this time making our way up the hill behind it toward the trail. She is not slowing down. The growing slope is making me want to slow down. I don't slow down. My heart is trying to escape the prison that is my ribcage. My head becomes a sweaty tomato with a ponytail. Finally, the top!

Thank go-ooooh no. That's the trail right there. The trail with hills and sharp, slippery rocks that are the bane of all people with a history of ankle injuries. (!) Okay. Okay, I can do this. Just don't look back and stay with her. Let's DO this. I keep my eyes glued to the ground in front of me and expend a lot of energy trying not to roll an ankle. Somehow, she is able to do this a lot more quickly than I am. Why am I slowing down? Keeping my ankles the way they are should not slow me down! Quick, light steps. Take more quick, light steps, Krischelle! Excellent, I'm catching up again.

Careening down a small hill, I pick up some speed to go charging up the next one up ahead, slightly steeper and more imposing. Suddenly, something is wrong. I'm not chasing a moving object anymore. The moving object has stopped short in gully between hills and is sucking wind. Shit. NOW who's going to pace me? Should I stop too? But I feel good! I should keep running! She turns so I can see her face for the first time, her sweaty tomato head rivaling mine, and she gives me a little nod and continues to swallow air. What just happened? I'm running up a hill now, working hard but not dying, and what just happened?

'Just keep running, idiot.' The voice in my head makes sense. I keep running. An old lady (by no means frail) flies past me and I try to keep up with her but this proves to be hopeless. I keep running and focus on trying not to walk. The rest of the trail is uphill and this undoubtedly sucks, so walking will pretty much mean the end of my race, but I'm only a little past halfway!

I pass the mile 4 marker. Woo! Here I come, Butler Stadium. I'm on my way. 2/3 down, 1/3 to go. I hear uncharacteristically fast footsteps coming from behind me. It's the leader of the second wave. Thank goodness I made it 2/3 of the way before he caught me. He gives me an "oo-rah" as he passes and this galvanizes my resolve. The hill just gets bigger and bigger but I'm going to kill my way to the top. Two or three more second-wavers pass me. One of them is a teenage boy. I feel old and slow. Now I'm on the trail again. How does this road keep going uphill?

As I start to lose my resolve (for the 100th time?) another Marine runs past me just as we reach the peak of the hill. He actually slows to look back at me and says, "You're doing great. Don't give up now!" Good idea! I keep pushing to keep up the pace and start the final downhill. Did I mention I'm really bad at running downhill? I start to feel strange pains in my shins. Like maybe if I keep doing this, I'm going to get shin splints. But maybe if I brake too hard with my legs, my knees will hate me. What to do? I decide it's best to focus on not eating asphalt since that will be disastrous on a hill like this, so I concentrate on keeping my ankles aligned and my steps quick. This seems to work.

Soon, we are looping around Butler Stadium to do the last lap around the delicious new rubberized track where there is a finish line and also some bananas to eat. Sweet!

Why is this taking so long? Why?! I can't believe I'm not there yet. Why am I not there yet? UGH. My shins feel like jelly and fast people are all sprinting past me. I can't sprint like that, this far away! I practically AM sprinting! Oh my goodness WHY.

Ugh, finally on the track. Now to sprint! I can totally pass these three ladies in front of me. Go, go gadget legs.

...Hello? Legs? Faster please? Okay, okay. I can pass this one lady in front of me. Eventually. Maybe I'll pass her right at the finish line. Jelly legs just need to stay rigid long enough for me to get there. Stay strong, jelly legs. We're going to do this. Push, push, push.

I pass her in the last few yards before the finish line and everything becomes a blur of blood rushing through my head. There is only the sound of whooshing in my ears. A man is pointing at something small and black in his hand. He wants me to what? Oh, I have to bend down now and take the chip off of my shoe. WHOA, dizzy. Here you go, mister. Time for a banana.

Sweet.

eating and blogging and not sleeping

2008-03-10T21:50:00.005-04:00

This is me trying to blog with a microwavable calzone from Trader Joe's in one hand. Midterms are hitting me hard this week. The LA marathon exacted a high toll last week, leaving me wondering if I had a stress fracture in my hip. Turns out it was just a nasty case of bursitis... which I didn't figure out until Thursday afternoon when I could walk again (with a limp) for more than 10 seconds at a time. The next few days spent cooped up in my apartment studying and doing homework finally allowed the limp to go away too. Just in time for me to sprint across campus today and be 10 minutes late for my first midterm!

I'm not even sure what is going on with my sleep schedule either. All I know is that I'm not getting enough of it, and the little I do get is not happening at the right times. I'm reminded of a time in college when a friend told me about the uberman sleep schedule wherein one takes short naps at regular intervals instead of sleeping straight through the night. Somehow, this schedule reminds me of eating several small meals throughout the day routine (as opposed to the traditional 3 large meals), but I know it's not as healthy. It's really just a way to get through exam time. It completely robs me of the ability to do any exercise and I can go 12-24 hours without eating and not even notice--as long as I keep pumping sugar into my system semi-regularly so that my brain can function and then binge on carbs at least once a day. Cherry cider, ice cream and that big pot of spaghetti I made two days ago have been my steady companions.

Anyway, I'm not sure why I'm going on about this, but my calzone is almost gone now and it will be time to hit the books again soon. This is all to say that I really wish I could just sleep through one (delicious, savory, wonderfully long) night and go for a run when I wake up, but... well, fat chance that will happen anytime this week.

Los Angeles Marathon

2008-03-03T21:08:00.004-05:00

Clock Time: 6:31:18
Chip Time: 6:28:08
Average Pace: 14:48.5
Split10K: 1:19:05
Half: 2:50:05
Split30K: 4:19:36

WOO! DELIRIUM! It's the new taper madness!

2008-02-28T22:57:00.006-05:00

First of all, I'm going to LA where I can perhaps go to llama school and be crescent fresh.

Second, I don't have to bring my stupid running tights or gloves! LA is going to be the perfect 72 degrees with a nice, mild breeze. (!!)

So you don't feel too left out, here's a virtual flyby:

Oh, and legless dogs.

think happy thoughts

2008-02-27T01:58:00.006-05:00

I was cruising 43 things for some motivation and eventually found my way to the ironman site. I learned some interesting facts there:

Your mind can improve your exercise results, says two recent studies. Researchers from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign found that women who believed they had a high tolerance for muscle pain reported less discomfort during cycling tests than women who claimed a low threshold.

In a Harvard University study, when hotel maids were told their work met the Surgeon General's recommendations for an active lifestyle, the women experienced decreases in blood pressure, body fat, waist-to-hip ratio and body mass index a month later. But the control group, who didn't receive the information, saw no such health improvements.

My right calf was making an awful popping sound on Monday so I decided not to run on it for a few days. Luckily it has not popped since Monday. Maybe my efforts to "think my calf into relaxing" helped? Could be that I just needed a little rest, too. Perhaps I'll go on a final 2-miler at marathon pace before I get on the plane and make sure to stretch better than I did after the 10-mile challenge. That ought to do it.

Clearly, as the article suggests, if I just think good thoughts about running the marathon, it will be a quick and painless experience! Right? Right??

RRCA 10-Mile Club Challenge

2008-02-24T12:47:00.008-05:00

I joined PGRC yesterday since it was only $3 more to become a member than it was to run today's race as a non-member. I think it was well worth it since there is at least one weekly run that starts practically outside my doorstep and the people in the club were all nice runners who were there for fun and camaraderie instead of ignoring everybody and trying to PR every other second.

It was a chilly morning, but most of that was the dew since I was getting on the road at 0615. When Coach and I got to the gym where we picked up our bibs, the sun was out and I predicted a lot of sweating in my two long-sleeve layers. I ditched the under armour before the start, but then ended up mildly uncomfortable because of the cold for the next two hours. Oh well. I'm still trying to figure out if that had anything to do with my left forearm going numb and then hurting for the last mile and half. My watch wasn't on any tighter than usual, but when I reached for my numb arm, it felt tight around my flesh - at least to the touch of my good hand. I loosened the watch a notch to see if it would help, but that did nothing. It started to really hurt as I came down the last quarter mile, but luckily it was only a quarter mile. Seems okay now.

The club picked up two stragglers to join the team so that we could compete (we needed 15 runners), but then I found out there was another rule I had failed to learn about beforehand. A runner had to finish the 10 miles in 2 hours or less in order to be scored. With me and about 2-3 of the other club regulars living dangerously on the cusp, I felt like I'd better try really hard. I imagined myself taking a nice easy pace most of the way and then seeing the race clock about 20 yards ahead at 1:59:57, knowing that I would miss the mark by mere seconds. Luckily, that thought kept me from walking too long during my increasingly frequent Gatorade breaks in the last two miles.

12 minutes per mile doesn't sound fast to most people, and in fact, it doesn't even sound fast to me these days with all the focus I'm putting on being able to switch modes as a runner so that I can score well on the PFT in addition to running marathons. Still, it was a great victory to be scored in that race, and with 4 minutes to spare! A sub-12 pace for 10 miles is a light year away from where I was throughout MCM training and about 67 light years from my actual marathon pace. I sometimes forget that I only started running last April (and that it was a false start with a sprained ankle after only a little over a week). Coach says that it takes about two years to mature a runner, so I'm counting on a lot of improvement this next year or so.

Next week is the real challenge. Well, it's the next one anyway. Every day I pound the pavement is a new challenge for me right now. As Samwise likes to say, this next marathon is to prove that the first one wasn't a fluke. (The next 50-60 will be to join the 50 states and 7 continents clubs.) Coach listened to me go on about all the people I'd get to visit whose couches I would shamelessly crash on in order to achieve these goals, and it reminded him of another marathon follow-up tidbit he wanted to share with MCP. Seems that most people run a marathon and then fall into one of two groups: the Never Agains and the Extremely Addicted. He warned against trying to run too many in the first year (or two) because that often leads to injuries, which lead to membership in the Never Agains. Makes sense to me.

While my current mental state definitely puts me in that dangerous group that wants to run as many as possible as soon as possible, I imagine there is an important lesson waiting for me in LA. The logical part of my brain that's still cowering in a corner trying to hide from the bullies who like it when I run all crazy-like? Well, that part managed to get a message out, convincing me to wait on registering for the Frederick Marathon until after LA. That way I will not only know what it means to run one's first 2-3 marathons too close together, but I will most likely also FEEL it. In my bones. In my joints. In my muscles. Everywhere. Early May isn't so far off and I admit that this might not be the best idea I've ever had. Still...

We'll see.

run, baby, run

2008-02-19T00:53:00.004-05:00

I don't really know what to say for myself. I haven't trained properly (or at all?) and I'm going to run this son of a bitch anyway. I eeked out 16 miles on Saturday as a last ditch attempt at training. I felt some serious aches beyond anything I felt during my six months of real training for MCM. At the same time, my knees did not bother me as much. Go figure. I nearly crippled myself and, as I lay sprawled in a twitchy "stretching" position in the parking lot post-run, I thought solemnly, 'Well, it's only ten more miles than that.' Part of my brain is still reeling from that sentence, but that part of me has already been relieved of duty.

Coach sent out an email yesterday about a 10-mile race this coming Sunday... I figure there is a greater benefit in running a longish distance a week out from the big day than there is detriment to my training program in doing so at the end of my taper. (Read: Who'm I kidding? I didn't do any of this properly from the get-go. Why start now?)

What a hated phrase

2007-11-24T21:54:00.000-05:00

And how true it can be sometimes!

"Maybe you should just try a little harder."

I kept hearing that in my head as I gloated over an 8-mile run on Wednesday night at a whopping 11:15 pace. 11:15! That's 2 minutes per mile faster than my average training pace and over 3 minutes per mile faster than my actual MCM pace! Maybe I should have just tried a little harder?

Of course, I shouldn't delude myself. I went running with Keith, Mr. Super Trainer Man (also happening to be my brother-in-law) who never gives up on me even when I try to slow waaaaay down so that he'll just go ahead and I can walk or send him ahead without me so I can give up. It felt great particularly because it was my first distance run since the marathon almost a month ago. All that recovery time and no more than a month out from the six solid months of training for MCM left me primed for a great 'first' training run.

The six miles we did with my brother Jay yesterday at a slower pace did not feel as nice. But I guess that happens when you're not used to putting in all the miles you're supposed to and then BAM! one day, you run a total of 14 miles within 3 days after an extended rest period. I didn't like the dirt trail too much yesterday, either. It was too much like sand with the absorbing of all of my energy and my legs were already pretty sore. I wonder if I'll be able to keep up with Samwise and his merry group of hobbits so I don't have to train alone this winter...

Probably not, but I won't be trailing so far behind anymore. That's pretty good for now!

the band-aid has been ripped

2007-11-03T21:37:00.000-04:00

I just registered for the 23rd annual Los Angeles Marathon so that I can't change my mind anymore. There's no turning back!

Also, my first two marathons make a palindrome. 32-23... it's obviously a sign.

Done and done!

2007-10-31T23:19:00.000-04:00

I look really stupid, but that's what you get when your supervisor comes into your office and says to show off your medal for the camera. My knees are killing me, but I'm already thinking about registering for LA in early March. (What is wrong with me!?)

I figure it's like ripping the band-aid off. Better to do it sooner than later. Plus, I have some room for improvement. 6:22:20 is, well, 6:22:20. That's two whole hours slower than Oprah did it a few years ago and it would be unacceptable for me to give up now. In other news, there's all kinds of other stuff going on with me (what's new), possibly including some major life transitions very soon, but I'll get to that in my main blog soon enough. For now, all I have to say is BOO-ya!

I prefer Duct Taper, but masking's all I got

2007-10-13T12:56:00.000-04:00

Last week's 12-miler brought on a surprisingly early bout of taper madness. Everyone was some kind of loopy during the run and it almost seemed like a mistake when we reached the end and we all felt so good. When I got home after today's so-so 10-miler, I realized that I should stop being surprised at the distances I am capable of running and also stop pretending that I am shocked about my training success in front of other people (most notably non-runners). I'm a runner, goddamn it, and sometime in the last 5-ish months this activity stopped feeling like that lark I had one night while scouring craigslist for things to do and it became who I was. This is who I am now. This is what I do.

I have definitely emerged from my personal funk; happycat has found her happy. The real challenge this next two weeks will be in staying gainfully employed despite my constant, intense urge to jump ship so that I can stop letting them run me into the ground and actually sleep enough to feel refreshed on the big day. If this week was any indicator, it does not look very promising for any people there who still think that the marathon and school are anywhere below my top two priorities.

...Also, I want to punch someone in the face because my knees only hurt right now thanks to the lack of sleep this week. Maybe happycat found some catnip instead of happy. It's been a while since I've felt like I could go for a good barfight.

more zen please

2007-09-23T22:03:00.000-04:00

I've been clinging to a moment, or maybe just not wanting to experience new moments. It's time to let go of that 20-miler. (Mostly because there's another one coming soon but also because I ran a race yesterday that I can't just pretend didn't happen.)

It was humid yesterday, so it sucked. I guess my time was good. I have a really bad attitude about all of this right now, but I can't seem to shake it (try as I might) because there never seem to be enough minutes in the day for me to get all the rest I need, let alone get through all of this physical and mental torture (not just running, but everything) with a big smile on my face.

I guess a pseudo-meltdown counts as rest week for me now? I'm going to expose one of my guilty pleasures by doing this, but this is really the best summary of how I'm doing right now:

what the hell, man

2007-09-16T12:37:00.001-04:00

WHAT THE HELL.

I hardly want to relive yesterday's run, but I need to get down some sort of record of my first 20-miler in life... if you can even count those last 6 miles.

Let's just say that I went to dark, dark places in my head. The Mile-14 onset Tourette's was mild, but my cognitive processes began to break down badly at that point. I played every game I knew to make the time pass and push through the pain: lasso the person running in front of me, lasso that kayaker on the river, look at that lady in front of me I am so faster than she is 1-2-3 go, wheels on the feet go 'round and 'round, just stay with Space Mountain Train the trusty pacer, count as high as I can in various languages, name the stops on the NYC subway lines I've lived on, name the stops on the DC metro, SCREW THE ALPHABET I WILL NOT SING THE ALPHABET, count again in japanese and pretend I'm doing push-ups oh look how easy this is without the push-ups, remember that day when I was running miserably for what seemed like forever thank god I am on a leisurely bike ride now just watching the memory of me suffer, if you don't stay ahead of at least one person in this group the lions will eat you... and so on.

I had to think of some new ones, too. The best one was magic shoes! Magic shoes come in two varieties: the kind with little wings on them that whisk you around like a little mythological courier and the kind that run by themselves and carry you forward as if you were amazingly fast and perfect and had to expend no effort whatsoever. The thing about magic shoes, though, is that they are only for gods and immortals to wear and the price to pay for greatness as a mortal is that they burn your puny mortal skin. But to be great you just live with the burning pain in your feet because you get to wear magic shoes and be awesome like gods and immortals.

Magic shoes only worked for so long. They got me through the rough spots up until mile 14. Then I had to play, OH GOD THIS HURTS SO MUCH WHAT COULD HURT WORSE THAN THIS SO I CAN BE THANKFUL I AM NOT DOING THAT INSTEAD? Answers included:

*Here is a wall made of spikes and now you have to kick it!

*Here take this knife and carve chunks of flesh out of your legs to put in this bowl.

*Hey let's play soccer and you get a penalty kick OH MY GOD JUST KIDDING IT WAS A GIANT UPRIGHT BLADE NOT A BALL and the lower half of your leg is now sliced in half!

*What do you think will happen if I put my foot in this blender?

Phew! Thank goodness I'm not doing any of that and I'm just here running these nice and easy 20 miles today. What a leisurely day!

That never lasted long either. I ended up in fantasy land a lot...

Oh my gosh I have to keep running or that ringwraith will cut me up and feed me to those nasty orcs. But when I almost dove into a ditch a few times to evade the dark lords, I decided I'd better try daydreaming about real life instead. I pictured myself approaching the end of mile 26 on marathon day and seeing mister-man standing at an oddly placed aid station there. I run over to kiss him and he says, "I'm coming with you!" and I grin and pick him up and go charging up that final hill to the statue where my friends are all waiting and take a glorious picture of me carrying my boyfriend and looking strong as a horse. Hey, man, that's totally unrealistic. Stop it. Okay, okay. So I get to mile 26 and there is that final hill to cover and there are all of my friends watching me and I can't feel my legs. I suck it up and I go charging up that hill and push some suckers out of my way for a glorious finish. Maybe that can actually happen. (Well, maybe I shouldn't push any suckers.)

Anyway, now that it's all over and I review my data, I see that there is a good possibility I will be capable of this. It felt like I completely broke down during the whole last five miles, but I actually stayed well within my target pace range on the last two miles, even with the stops to stretch and some walking. See, usually it's such a big hurdle to even get myself to run again that I run as fast as I can just to get more distance covered and "earn" some more walking (or limping or crying), which I do for as long as I can stand myself. Then when I am thoroughly disgusted with myself again, I run fast some more. Every time this happens, it FEELS like I'm actually going to make good time when I average out the walking and running, but I always still come in at at least 2-3 minutes slower than my normal pace.

Maybe I can thank my week of Army ROTC PT, but somehow I actually ran fast for long enough to bring my average pace back down to normal. I'd look at my watch in the middle of it and see I was doing somewhere between a 9- and 11-minute pace, which was remarkable for how crappy I felt. Then I'd remind myself about every other time I use this technique and how I always end up taking too long anyway. I really didn't expect to see any good news in the data, but darn it if I didn't run miles 19 and 20 in 13:20 and 12:08, respectively!

I didn't exactly achieve a negative split, but I ran my 19th mile faster than I ran 11 of the other 19 miles, and my 20th was the fastest mile of them all! I do recognize that this is some kind of victory, but I'm still in too much shock (and pain) to actually feel happy about it.

...Also I had my first chafing experience (WTF) and now I have to buy body glide (WTF). I don't want to talk about it. >:(

PT for you, PT for me

2007-09-13T11:36:00.000-04:00

Well, PT hasn't involved as much running as I had wanted (translation: needed), but my entire body certainly is sore today. I did notice a different attitude and threshold for discomfort in my short run after PT, though. I took off only mildly uncomfortable to put in as much as I could before I had to go to class. I planned on 3, but it was cut to 1.5 because apparently I was holding the LTC up. (Oops.) I didn't know they had to lock the track back up. I always forget that it has such inconvenient hours and doesn't officially open until 0800. Anyway, I held a 10-min pace without wanting to puke. We'll see if this actually translates to something that's good for my marathon training on Saturday with the big 2-0.

*shudders*

PT junkie? Not yet, but maybe soon.

2007-09-10T18:48:00.001-04:00

This morning was fun. It was my first mandatory early morning run and I won't see the last one until sometime in December. I think part of my brain is missing. I signed up for this, willing, knowing that it would continue for a month and a half after the marathon is over. Whatever! I didn't need that part of my brain anyway.

Of course, this morning also brought me to that point where I felt this incredible urge to cry and or hurl and I used most of my mental energy to keep myself from whining and ignore how embarrassingly out of breath I was. We only ran a mile and a half, but I was playing the game just to get to a mile and then when I got there, I had to wrap my head around possibly doing two. I knew three would be impossible at that speed, but the PT test that we were missing was only two, so I had that much going for me. Luckily, when I verbalized my misery as unwussily as possible, we decided together that one more lap would be decent, making it 1.5 in total. Oh the relief.

Then I did push-ups and sit-ups to sort of make it a diagnostic PT test. I got passing numbers, better on the push-ups than sit-ups. My hip flexors kill. I also stupidly forgot to stretch afterward, which is making them scream bloody murder.

I'm still kind of nervous about Wednesday, though, because that's when I join the group instead of just running around having fun with my nice new friend. Then of course there will be lots of boys who run a lot faster than me and I will inevitably be trying not to hurl all morning, while also trying to remember how to be in formation.

Now I realize I probably still have to do short runs outside of this, especially if we're only doing 1-2 miles at a time. Of course, at least now I know I'm out of the woods as far as not running at all during the week. Even 3 short 1- to 2-milers is a lot better than nothing. And that's something!

I also saw a small group of Marines running by on the road as cadet-friend and I were headed into the Bagel Place for me to have my first real bagel since NYC. (Yum!) (Wait, tangent: Somebody should tell Lenders and that other store brand that bagel-shaped bread does not equal bagel. Bagels have hard shells from being boiled in water before baking! You'd think more people would notice.) One of these days, I'm going to be out there with them, running like the wind. I wonder how many times my all-out, gutsy PT will make me puke before then.

This is a fun, twisted game.

there is something wrong with me

2007-09-09T21:38:00.000-04:00

With us. All of us who are training for the marathon. We do this thing that is painful and drawn-out for extended periods of time, while every part of our bodies is screaming for us to quit.

...And we don't. Not for a while longer anyway.

Guess I had a "good" run yesterday. That's one of my fastest average paces on a long run, even though I didn't run a lick since the last long run. I guess my fitness is still improving, even when I feel like crap and don't train enough.

Luckily, that is going to end, too. I signed up to PT with the Army ROTC on campus so I'll be getting some form of working out at least three days a week, which must include running, not to mention the cross-training that I haven't exactly been doing. With this latest development, my pace may actually improve more before the big day! My first marathon time may possibly be slightly less pitiful than I expect!!

I look back and see that I guessed poorly at what a decent beginner time should be when I set my "goal" time in April. Er, I should say, I guessed poorly at what MY beginner time would be. 5:00? Yeah, right. I'm just praying I'll break 6:00. Anything under 6:00 means I kept a decent pace and did not have any major breakdowns. Finishing much later than that means I gave too much just to beat the bridge and gave up on myself for the last 10K. I know that this is my first one and I should just aim to finish and everything, but I'd rather not look back on this experience and regret giving up on a measly 10K (forget that it's after 20 miles) and having a 6-hour+ finish time looming over me for the rest of my life.

BOO-ya.

2007-09-01T14:11:00.001-04:00

No moping today! I just ran 18 miles and I feel like having a good ol' victory bar fight as soon as I finish icing my knees. (Too bad I know better than that.) That was a damn good run. I'm feeling violent in the good way!

I used a number of mental tricks on myself today, but the most effective during the clinch was ramping up the speed in the last mile and thinking about how embarrassing it would be to give up so close to the end in front of so many Marines. I thought of mister-man running the 5+ mile endurance course this last week with his load-bearing vest and a pack and rifle. The Marine Corps, being the Marine Corps, planned for the E course to end with an obstacle you have to hurl yourself over... atop the final hill...

...where everyone is watching you.

Gee, this sounds a lot like the marathon course, whose elevation map (just recently released) looked pretty brutal, involving running PAST the finish only to come back around to it a second time... managing to be uphill both ways. 10 miles of hills, relatively flat course, and then 1.2 miles of utter torture. Not to mention that this is in front of probably the largest concentration of spectators. You know, the Marine Corps being the Marine Corps. Sometimes I stare at that elevation map just to meditate on it bit. Without fail, I end my meditation by saying to myself, "Yep, this route was definitely planned by a Marine."

Anyway, I tried to sing the Marines' Hymn in my head as I started running hard. I mixed up the verses a whole bunch and ended up running out of song before the mile was up, but then I imagined mister-man running up from behind all weighed down like a mule and completely schooling me in that last half mile. I almost started crying because my mental image was too real and I was *so* close to giving up on my dreams and even life itself. But before I knew it, my Garmin bleeped at me and made the 18 miles official. Of course it was almost another quarter mile to the parking lot so I kept going and even sped up a bit because I felt SO DAMN GOOD to be done.

I remember turning my left ankle on a rock somewhere in the last half mile but I didn't notice until I was stretching and my left ankle was too tender for me to balance on that leg so I could stretch my right quads. Already feels mostly better, though I'll have to ice it a bit and not do anything stupid to it. I'm just glad it wasn't like The Great Sprain of April, which took me out of commission for a loooong while. That would be pretty devastating at this stage of the game.

Wait, why am I even talking about that shit? I effectively dodged the bullet, and I just ran 18 miles! Fuck everything else! Time for ice packs and a victory nap.

calling in a you-owe-me

2007-08-29T00:37:00.000-04:00

This morning was pretty brutal. I itched all night from the score of bug bites covering my legs (again). I have no idea where these little fuckers even are! When are they getting a shot at biting me? I only ever go outdoors to run or go to my car and I always put on bug repellant when I run! >:(

I smelled like a walking Vicks factory when I finally got in to work. Then when the Vicks kicked in and made my legs stop itching, I realized that there was another reason I had a hell of a time waking up this morning: I had the beginnings of the SICK. The mildly irritated throat, the slightly warm temperature, the full body aches...

I used to get sick all the time. ALL. THE. TIME. Frequent and recent enough to know that I have to head it off at the pass with a bunch of zinc, vitamin C, food and sleep. If not, it usually takes me out for a whole week. I mean, I stay sick for almost two weeks as it fades away in that annoying sniffly-coughy way, but I am down for the count for a good long week at the beginning.

Looking ahead into my work week and the fact that school starts tomorrow (no small deal right now), I thought maybe I should do what I could to head it off at the pass. So I called in a solid you-owe-me from all the people at work who have been benefiting from my usual run-myself-into-the-ground-to-get-things-done approach for the past 1-10 months. I didn't feel quite right doing it, but once I laid down the facts (especially the part about having to be OUT-out for a couple of days if I let it get bad), well, let's just say that they all decided to just bite the bullet and help me out.

A little after 3pm, I grabbed the lunch I had had delivered 2.5 hours earlier and ran upstairs to eat, take preventative meds and sleep. I put in Little Miss Sunshine (great flick!) and slept through it. Then I woke up to the main menu screen and switched over to cartoon network where, to my delight, Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends was on. More sleeping and sleepy watching. Then around 10pm I was awake.

Remembering Coach's words of warning as he rode his bike alongside me this last weekend - making sure I wasn't going to pass out in the humidity - I decided to go running and tire myself out for bed. Two birds, one stone. I need to make sure to do at least two short runs during the week. I am not even doing the minimum. How am I supposed to run this bitch in October if I can't even make time for little 3-milers and such during the week? I won't. That's how.

So out I went around 11pm (it took an hour of self-coaxing to get around to actually dressing and going out for a run at this hour). It was relatively cool and nice. I reek of Off!, but I don't have any new bites (thank goodness). It was a mediocre speed run. Miles in the bank. Forward motion. One foot in front of the other. I guess that's all a person can do when her body is screaming for her to quit. Anything it takes to not give in.

Much as it pained me to abandon a bunch of people at the office who needed me to be there, I'm glad I slept off the sick today. When my body calls in a you-owe-me, I'd be stupid not to deliver.

traps of doom

2007-08-23T23:50:00.000-04:00

Massages are jubbin' great. Today I had no comparable knots to last month, but my back was all manner of tense and she couldn't get my traps to relax for a long time. Nearly at the end, I flipped over and she put her hands under my back and gravity (and probably the previous hour of her work) did the trick and they just popped open and relaxed! It was like [insert Catholic school girl joke here]! Next one's scheduled for the night before the Quantico half. Word.

Oh, and it's accidental rest week again. Surprise! But this time I think it was my real rest week and I at least did a good specovery run on Sunday after the whopping 16. That should count for something. I'm sure the 12 this Saturday will be better than the last 12 I did. (Here's hoping anyway...)

Marathon Man

2007-08-22T22:36:00.001-04:00

I try not to fawn over this man at the MCM bulletin board because I've never met a Marine who likes fawning, but he is one of my heroes. I would love to meet him at the race and shake his hand. Now that I know what he looks like from up close, I might actually have a chance to if I do see him!

half ready?

2007-08-20T22:57:00.000-04:00

I just put my registration form & check in the mail for the Quantico Half Marathon: "the official training event for the Marine Corps Marathon." Screw that unofficial shit I did a few weeks ago. This is official.

...I'm kind of nervous. There are going to be a lot of Marines running a lot faster than me and mister-man will be there to see me looking really miserable and being very slow. They even allow people to race with strollers. I keep imagining these tough moms zooming past me, pushing twins in double-wide running strollers. Just how pathetic will I be?

I need to stop thinking about other people and remember why I'm doing this. :\

youch!

2007-08-19T20:57:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a rough one, but I did it! I ran 16 miles! 16.4 to be exact. I don't particularly feel like reliving it, but I will summarize it by saying that it was long and arduous and my knees hurt the whole damn time despite the Tylenol I took at the beginning. I developed a case of tourette's just as I hit mile 14 and I think I'm just now shaking it. (Maybe not. I still have a few choice words in me.) I also had a great desire to spear the people running in front of me. They just looked too damned chipper. Good thing I didn't actually have a spear or any functional substitutes handy.

Mister-man had some good advice for me after I vented to him yesterday. He said that I should try doing some jumprope warm-up and a stretch before I run. This is usually not necessary for long runs since we run the whole thing slowly and do the warming up by attempting to negative split and running especially slow the first 3-5 miles. But it did make me realize why my knees hurt so much: I should have done exactly that before my two short runs this last week, since I chose to do speed runs for both. That's precisely the kind of workout that requires a warm-up and stretch. My knees hurt since that first speed run and only got worse through the end of the week, culminating in a world of pain for over 3-1/2 hours yesterday morning. (Who am I kidding? I'm still in a lot of pain.)

Anyway, I was going to go back to my usual wimpy 1-mile recovery run at a whopping 14-ish minute pace, but the thought of being on my knees for that long and only accomplishing one mile wearied me. Plus, I need to add miles during the week as we stay in the double digit mileage from here on out. I decided that from now on, no matter how tired I am, I should be shooting for runs that are no shorter than 3 miles. I mean, am I just going to stop before I get to the end of that marathon because I'm tired? Hell no. So, I took off into the nice misty day for a jog around some different parts of campus.

The cool weather felt good, so I just sort of took off with nary a care. My recovery run morphed into a speed workout. There were no sprints involved, which I typically like to incorporate into speed runs, but then neither were there any during my last two. I guess it's a good sign that I didn't notice until I finished, all out of breath and feeling accomplished. If I had gone just another half mile, I would have logged 20 miles this weekend. (!!) Given how beat up I feel, I'm perfectly happy with 19.5. That's a big enough deal for this little chicken.

I feel the need

2007-08-16T00:35:00.000-04:00

THE NEED FOR SPEED

Two key workouts in a row and two speed workouts in one week. That's supposed to be really stupid, but it can't be as stupid as not running at all. I just have to do what I can when I can, make sure I don't miss the long runs and hope for the best.

Still, my time was great, considering the shape I'm in! I maintained a 10:30 pace for the first two miles (give or take 4 seconds) and then dropped to 11:00 on the last mile because I tanked and forgot to bring water. The shot block I ate before the run was obviously spent as well. I was lucky to finish the mile at that point. And now my knees kill.

Am I anywhere near even the minimum PFT on my 3-mile run yet?

aw, jub it!

2007-08-14T21:23:00.000-04:00

I made up a new word today: jub. It's the new f-bomb. I was trying to type 'job' but I was all u's today.

Planned to do three miles at top speed tonight, but I only got one out before it was time to get back to my place to let my guest in. I'm housing a co-worker for the next two days because of the overtime and her hour and a half drive home. The one mile I did have time for was good and fast (for me) though, so at least I didn't waste a night. It's a slippery slope when you let one day get wasted... another 13 follow very easily, especially when there's plenty of work to do at the office.

At 9:45, it's the second fastest mile I've run in my life. The only time I've ever run a mile faster was when I was in 10th grade and I pulled a 9:00. Not bad for being eight years older, and a lot bigger and heavier. Maybe if I make my weekly speed run just one mile instead of three, or at least run the first mile at top speed and then do the other two as fast as I can stand after my extreme effort, then I'll be able to have a nice little 1-mile PR sometime before the big day. That would be a nice little accomplishment to keep me motivated as my life gets busier and everything gets more stressful. I'm gunnin' for 8, baby!

Running Renaissance

2007-08-12T13:40:00.000-04:00

After nearly two full weeks since my last run (a short recovery run the day after the infamous Riley's Rumble), I have to say that the long run yesterday felt like a renaissance... complete with a second trip through the metaphorical birth canal.

It was the same 12-mile route we ran at Belle Haven a few weeks ago, when it was my first time running 12 miles. That week, I had done extra credit and ran 12.75 in pursuit of a comfort station. Yesterday I was lucky to run exactly 12. (Well, I did decide to throw in the extra .02 when I sprinted to the next big tree after I heard the little beep from my watch telling me I'd just finished my 12th mile. It meant getting to the food a few seconds sooner.)

Clearly I hadn't lost all my strength or resolve during the long hiatus. Nor had I lost my will to get up obscenely early on a Saturday morning (and only on Saturday morning) to drive out and meet the group on a beautiful trail. It helped a lot that the weather was disturbingly reminiscent of May (when the actual May was disturbingly reminiscent of July). There was a cool breeze and I actually shivered a touch on my walk to the car at 6am. The sun came out later, but it never felt oppressive.

What felt oppressive was the imaginary slave driver on my shoulder, cracking the whip against my tired heart. Of all my aching parts, my cardiovascular system labored on the most painfully. I was in pain throughout the first mile and thought, oh god, I feel like this after one mile? The second mile felt twice as bad and I thought for sure that little engine in my chest was going to stall and I'd find myself lying on my side, huffing and puffing like the song from a wind-up music box coming to its sad end.

Yet I continued on into an equally painful Mile Three, with members of my group finally catching and passing me. I'd left early to shorten the amount of time the coaches would have to wait for me to come back at the end, knowing I'd be stumbling in at a much slower pace than usual. Mile Four was surprisingly pleasant. I started to feel the strength and confidence I used to feel throughout most of my long runs. I felt like I could go on like that forever.

Yesterday, forever lasted exactly 1.5 miles.

I wanted to push on to run at least 5, but I had to slow down a bit. Then I got to 5 and wondered what all the fuss had been about, deciding to just go for my old routine and not make any significant stops or walk breaks until I hit the halfway mark. I did stop at each water fountain along the way (probably 3 or 4 of them?), but only long enough to take two long draughts and a careful final swallow. Those were more like pauses than stops. In the end, I never took any extended walk breaks like the ones I used to take midway through a run and then again three-quarters of the way through. I think this is because of my new fueling technique.

For the first time since I started this running business, I left my Clif bar at home. Instead, I brought with me a pack of sport beans and two packs of Clif shot blocks. (This was the recommended amount for a workout of that length.) I ate half of the pack of beans before the run and then the rest in 3 more doses of 4-6 beans along the way. I ended up eating only two shot blocks, and I even spit out half of the first one when I couldn't swallow it or keep it in my mouth any longer. The shot blocks were really helpful because I love (and I mean *love*) the texture in my mouth. (Just like my favorite gummy candies.) Of course, there's a lot more to them than just sugar, so the first one early in the run (after mile 3) was a little too much for my system, thus its unceremonious end on the grass alongside the trail. I sucked on it for a while, drank some water, more sucking, more water... got hungry and bit it in half and gobbled a little chunk down, lots more water, and then more sucking for as long as I could stand it in my mouth.

I don't remember when I ate the sport beans, but it was pretty much whenever water was tasting too watery, gatorade wasn't giving me enough of a kick, and shot blocks seemed too substantial. I think between these products, I may have a winning combination of fuels for the big day. I also still have some other gummy sport candies to try next week. I picked up these candies called sharkies when I went to REI for the sport beans and shot blocks. I like them because they remind me of childhood (at least from what I could tell from the packaging). I'll throw those in my little pouch for next week instead of the second back of shot blocks and I should be good to go.

I know I should have done a recovery run this morning, but I skipped it to catch up on sleep. Since I had a late reservation at the Prime Rib on Friday night for restaurant week, I only had about 3.5 hours of sleep before the run. I made up for it with a shameful amount last night/this morning. There could still be time for a little recovery action this evening, but I've got my other restaurant week dinner date and I'm not missing out on the hot culinary action and fine wine. I'm even taking the metro so I can actually drink tonight!

Incidentally, that prime rib was the best pre-run dinner I've ever had. I wish I could do that every week!

Riley's Rumble

2007-07-29T18:02:00.000-04:00

I had a rumble in my tumble again today, but I persevered and finished my first half marathon. I hope a 3:00 half marathon is never a PR for me ever again!

Looking forward to that well-earned massage tomorrow night...

Huh. fancy that funk!

2007-07-25T23:48:00.000-04:00

I feel worthless today for postponing my run another day when I had planned to do Monday-Wednesday-Friday this week in preparation for Riley's. But Monday brought on the most painful four miles of my life. I felt like I had heartburn the whole time. I brought water with me, though no beans or gatorade since the workout was only about 45 minutes. I threw up some water right at the end when I could feel my body running out of something after about 3.5 miles (was it dehydration? did I use up my glycogen stores? who knows?) and I pushed my limit and made myself finish the four miles.

The second I stopped running, it felt like that was the worst decision I had made all week... only I couldn't tell if the mistake was making myself keep running to that point, or stopping when I needed to keep going. Either way, after that first step I walked, the damage was done. I swirled some water in my mouth and spit out some kind of nasty goo that had formed in my mouth and the tried to drink some only to wretch it back into my mouth. Gross.

I had eaten a buffalo burger for lunch that day and it was slightly undercooked, but you'd think if it was that it would have bothered me sooner than seven hours later! What's worse is that I didn't wake up feeling better yesterday. I've been feeling queasy and heartburn-y since then and my body just doesn't feel like it's recovered from Saturday, let alone the second beating I gave it on Monday. I scheduled my first massage for Monday night, so I know that will be well deserved after I have a go at the Rumble on Sunday.

All this and those 10+ miles on Saturday felt like such a breeze at the time! Eesh.

But the real point of this entry should be that I looked back at my last few entries and--lo and behold!--the last time I felt this kind of a bodily funk was exactly a month ago. Fancy that! I guess I haven't taken a cut-back week since then, and my body is hollering at me for it. It's too bad Riley's falls on this week, but I guess this will just make into that much more of a test for me. At this rate, MCM might be falling on my off week! (Please no, please no, please no...) I think it will actually be a week after the off week if it keeps going exactly every 4th week, but I know that sort of thing is never predictable.

I don't know what else to say. The more I sit here to type, the more opportunity I have to whine, and that ain't helping no-one.

Can it be Monday now?

piggy bank breaking & beach blues

2007-07-22T12:26:00.000-04:00

I think it's time for me to start setting aside some more dough so that I can start getting massages... maybe once monthly is in my budget? I have to find a good affordable place first.

Basically since I started this running business, I have suffered from the same ailments - achy joints and overheating much too quickly. I had a system for after the long runs: stretch and eat at the run, drive home, turn the shower on, stuff whatever food was immediately available into my mouth, and get into the shower to let the cold water run over my legs for a few minutes before warming it up a bit for a more humane shower. Then I'd prepare more food, turn on some cartoons or grab a book, and sit on the couch icing my knees with frozen fruit (peaches seem to stay frozen longer than ice) until numb, and then curl up for nap time on the sunny spot of my couch with the a/c blasting. You know what? This worked. I had me a good system.

This last week, though, I have found myself taking hotter and hotter showers, wanting to just curl up and lie down at the bottom of the tub and wanting badly to soak in the nice hot water. My whole body aches and even though it's still pretty hot outside, I just want to curl up in a nice hot bath. These peculiar urges are what make me think that maybe, just maybe, I need a massage. That hot water isn't going to do much good to my joints, so I have been refraining, but the all-over aches are NOT going away. I think I may succumb later today and take a nice hot bath before I get back to icing my knees and popping NSAIDS.

Yesterday, I thought maybe I just really missed being in the water so I decided to actually do an ice bath rather than a cold shower and it was fun to slosh around in the small body of water I created for the occasion. It was fun with the sloshing, but not with the cold. My legs cooled down pretty quickly, which is obviously the desired effect, but then my muscles just ached again and I really wanted to make the water hot. Then I realized that there are definitely two things going on here: (1) I want to go to the beach, and (2) I need to have a massage.

Apparently I have always been able to spend at least a few days every summer in the water somewhere. Last year brought many visits to Florida and its beaches; most summers before then were spent in California (sometimes with brief sojourns out of the country), and the beaches were always part of that. Somehow, I have ended up in a place with no beach to speak of and my body is actually telling me to go find one!

The regular massage thing has always been a dream, but I really don't have the money for that kind of lifestyle yet. Now my body is aching something fierce and I may just have to give up some other things to make sure I have that money. There's just so much research and planning involved, I don't think I'll be getting one anytime in the next week. For today, a hot bath will have to do. And I'll have to see about that beach thing sometime. There has to be some place closer than Virginia Beach with a decent place to build sand castles and splash around in the ocean. Maybe Ocean City? I don't really know much about either of those places, but I think they are the closest beaches. Hmph.

Lazy Sundays are Over

2007-07-15T17:17:00.000-04:00

A fresh perspective on recovery runs

I ran an easy mile today (could have done three if I hadn't waited until noon to do it), and it hardly feels like I ran 12.75 yesterday. Hell if I had known I was making myself hurt worse by lying around like a lazy slug on weekends after the long runs, I'd have gotten my ass up off the couch a lot sooner! Usually I'm still hurting on Mondays and have to wait until Tuesday to start in on the shorter runs again, but I feel like I could do another few tonight as soon as the sun goes down. I may still wait until tomorrow for that though. :)

The Good, the Bad and the Rumbly (in my Tumbly)

2007-07-10T22:47:00.000-04:00

My fatal flaw only got me partially this morning - I woke up 20 minutes before my scheduled alarm to use the head and didn't just stay up. I thought, I'll just enjoy my cozy bed for 20 minutes and then get going. I've got time.

So after I hit 'snooze' for the 9th time, it was almost 8am, which is pretty much time to get ready for work. I keep hearing that I need to gradually get up earlier and earlier to go from an 8am rise-and-shine to a much earlier one that leaves time for running. The only problem with that is that I can't add running gradually; I either run or I don't. So this morning, I decided to turn the tide even though it was so late. I know I can run a mile in under 15 minutes even on a bad day, so I made myself get dressed and walked over to my running spot.

Then I got really ambitious and thought, I can run three miles at a 10-min pace so then I'd be back to my room by 8:30... perfect! Problem is, I haven't run a 10-min mile since 10th grade (well maybe once a few years ago, too). So with my forerunner beeping at me to speed up pretty much the whole time (at least on the uphill half of the loop), I completed one mile and pretty much wanted to vomit. Only reason I didn't was that there was nothing to cough up. 8am is a lot hotter than 7am is a lot hotter than 6am. I need to make this gradual process go faster so I can enjoy more running at an almost decent temperature.

Work was frustrating and stressful as usual. I just got by those nine and a half hours. Thankfully the big scary thunderstorm rolled through and hid the sun and broke the humidity a bit. Around 8pm, I headed back out to try again on the speedy 3-miler. This time I kept a 10:43 average pace. That's pretty damn good considering the shape I'm in! I mean, I almost wanted to throw up the whole time, but this was foreseen so I'd only eaten an apple before the run and went mostly hungry.

I've been eating pizza and pasta and apples and yogurt for the last few days, so I think I had a good store of fuel that let me run under-hydrated and under-fed *twice* today. So, I can't complain too much. I'm happy just putting in the miles and hoping to find the will again tomorrow.

Playing Catch Up

2007-07-08T16:20:00.000-04:00

I keep meaning to go back and write out the details of each run so I can benefit from my notes about all the variables later on down the road (say, in about 16 weeks), but I've barely even had the time or energy to run, let alone document all of the little things that happened or even update my run log before today.

Let's just say it's been a rough 3 weeks at work, and it isn't over yet. Overtime really sucks, but some things just need to be done. The source of my livelihood has to come before the source of my liveliness, much as I'd like it to be the other way around. My boss swears to me that we're hiring someone this week so I can have help by the 16th at latest. I'm not holding my breath, but I think it will be safe to start asserting my own personal needs that day in case the inhuman workloads continue, whether a person is hired or not. One more week of a crippled training schedule, I can handle (barely). More than that, not so much.

I guess the thing for me to keep in mind is that it is also JULY and not just that I am "losing conditioning" by skipping out on my shorter runs during the week. Every time I do get a chance to be out there, it is between 5:00 and 10:00pm, and hotter than Hades. I have also been too self conscious to wear my fuel belt to run around campus because all of the college students will laugh at me, but I'm beginning to realize that I just don't care (and they probably don't really care enough to laugh either). I'd rather run than not run, and I'd rather look like a dork than have my body overheat so that I have to cut the trip short every time.

Last week's long run was pretty much agony. I started out with the best attitude I had, but I clearly didn't eat enough the night before. In fact, I had fallen asleep without dinner. As important as it is for me to get proper amounts of sleep in order to feel good while running, I discovered that filling up the old gas tank is more important. I need to have a big hearty dinner the night before a long run and there ain't no bones about it.

This Friday, I ate like a champ and drank so much water I thought it was going to start leaking out of my ears. I woke up 3 times in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Then I woke up and had an apple before I went on my way, feeling pretty damn good. I brought just enough water and watered down gatorade (4 of water and 2 of 1:4 diluted gatorade), half of a clif bar and some sport beans. I probably could have eaten a bigger breakfast or brought 3/4 of a clif bar, but that was okay. I didn't get really hungry until the last mile and I just had to squeak that one out. Thank goodness for the bananas at the end. It's nice to have food and cold drinks waiting for you after you clean out your supply during the long run.

All in all, this 10 miles was breezy and I am in fine shape, considering how little training I've been doing for going on a month now. Last week I tried a walk break every mile (probably added to my agony) but this week I went back to my halfway rule. I try to break down the distance and get "just past halfway" before taking any significant breaks. I ran the 5 miles with no stops, only slowing down near mile 4 to digest some clif bar and let the water soak into my system, then I stopped to walk after the aid station at the turn around. Here, I really needed to hit the 'reset' button. Even though I would like not to walk more than a tenth of a mile at a time, I had just run 5 straight, so it seemed the thing to do.

I walked for about three tenths of a mile, drinking up and letting my body cool down and my joints rest. I lengthened my stride and took exaggerated steps to let some different muscles get in on the action. Then I started up again and felt pretty good. I knew I'd need to walk another 1-2 times so I stuck with my halfway rule again and said to myself that I'd walk after mile 7 and then again at about mile 8.5 in order to break the last 5 miles into a 2-1.5-1.5 deal. When I got to 7, I felt a little shameful since I'd walked more than a quarter mile at my last break, so I thought I'd just hold out for mile 8 and then walk.

A quarter mile before I got there, my stomach started to seriously devour itself. So, 7 and three-quarters it was! I chowed down on the last big bite of clif bar, munched a sport bean and drank down most of my fluids leaving just one bottle for the last couple of miles. It felt sinful to walk, but at least I knew I'd earned it (unlike the multiple, truly sinful walk breaks I'd taken last week). I was surprised to discover today that I averaged under a 13:30 pace. I had set my forerunner to yell at me if I dropped below a 14-min pace and that wretched little thing kept beeping at me every time I paused to sneeze! Harumph.

ugh. time for break now?

2007-06-21T21:55:00.000-04:00

Saturday's run was horrible. My stomach was so unsettled and I wanted to hurl all the fluid out of my body, yet I was starting to get dehydrated. No thank you, sir. I'll not have seconds.

Then more work-related stress... GERMS everywhere... and of course that fun little tickle and post-nasal drip that likes to come warn me when I'm about to get super duper sick. I decided to strike pre-emptively and take a few days off to sleep and sit on my couch catching up on my reading. I flooded my system with zinc lozenges. I drank OJ like there was no tomorrow. Today, I feel relatively good. (Read: not sick.) My run just now was pretty painful and I *just* got warmed up as I finished my 3 miles, but I needed to come home to make sure I got enough time to sleep for (you guessed it) work tomorrow. There seems to be a lot more of that going around lately.

I really can't wait for them to hire for that vacancy and for those two others who are supposedly filling the TWO OTHER VACANCIES to hurry up and come. It's been months with people dropping one by one and nobody waiting to take their places.

(BOO HOO, little girl.)

I know, I know. I'll quit bitching now.

Anyway, today's run reminded me of something the coach said about "miles in the bank." I had enough in the account to keep it open and look for growth, but it was like I took an early withdrawal this week. It really showed tonight. I suppose I could have toughed it out and kept building and accruing interest, but when my throat started hurting, it seemed like it was a bigger risk to continue. When I get sick, I get SICK. I seem to have nipped it in the bud, but of course I am second guessing myself because now it's really easy to say that I probably wouldn't have gotten sicker anyway and I was just feeling lazy. Who knows?

In any case, it was kind of nice to have rain while I was out there again, though I wish I had gone a bit earlier. I wouldn't have been as hungry and it wouldn't have been so dark. Those were the other two reasons (besides needing sleep) that I figured I should just call it a night. Now my body's crying out for me to finish that 6 it wanted to do. I sure hope it still feels that way when I try to do 9 on Sunday!

---
BLOG NEWS: Sam's started his own blog so I can pick on him now, too! Check it out; it's linked in the sidebar.

Whee(nie)

2007-06-13T20:57:00.000-04:00

Running in the rain is great!

Heartburn is not. I need to lay off those cheap calzones.

I just wish it had rained yesterday when I wore my last clean pieces of technical gear. Cotton is no fun when you're all wet. Although, yesterday's run was quite the success. I combined the speed workout with the baby long run because I stupidly took three days off in a row again. When will I learn?

I think I only did so well because I was pacing myself against a dude and he wasn't much faster than me... I'm not faster than anybody, much less a dude. Here was my chance, and I took it. I did a 100-meter sprint for every lap around the mall (just shy of 1km) from my third through sixth lap (actually, I did two in the fourth lap). Then the dude I was beating finished his run and my distraction disappeared, leaving me with my twitchy muscles, throbbing knees and burning feet. I eeked out two more "easy" laps before I pretty much just wanted to pull out a knife and slice out the tendons in my knees. (They needed the extra space.)

Not having a knife handy, I decided on one more sprint to distract me. The rest of lap nine was spent catching my breath and wrangling my heart back into my chest. That just left excruciating lap ten for me to do, during which it was easier to convince myself to just keep going at my average long run pace because I was "warming down."

I've been on NSAIDS since Saturday - the maximum dose of ibuprofen plus one overlapping dose of aspirin during a really bad night. I iced my knees three times on Saturday and then again after my run yesterday, and I should do it again now. My knees are starting to complain. I'm having old ladies at work tell me that the reason they can't walk to the next building is because they didn't take care of their knees when they were young and running like me. (Gee, thanks.) I'm gonna quit it with the NSAIDS tomorrow, though. If I wake up in a lot of pain again, the morning will be my last dose. If not, this is it. No more drugs until after the Saturday long run. But I'm hopeful I won't really need them again until I add more mileage. I have this week and next to get my body accustomed to ten miles. Lord help my knees when the following week comes.

Sam sends pictures and stats!

2007-06-11T00:09:00.000-04:00

The run log is updated with the correct times and distances now. And here are the pictures, with borrowing from Sam's captions:

Ready for those 10 miles? That smile looks a little forced....

Almost done, this was a spot where *some* natural light made it through, not that you can tell!

Bridge over the river Qua

Waiting with Sam, in the wrong place...

(This is after we tossed the ring into the fires of Mount Doom and saved Middle Earth)

Finishing up at the crack of Doom

Lord of the Run

2007-06-10T01:28:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I participated in this event, except obviously it is now 2007. Tom's Run started out as a team-building exercise in honor of CWO-4 Tom Brooks of the Coast Guard and has become an annual tradition, even after his death. I wish I had known all of this before I rented a car and drove a couple of hours into the boonies to have this adventure... it means a lot more now that I know. I also learned a lot about how to be better prepared for next time; namely, to prepare.

Sadly I missed the big finish today because I slept like a rock until noon, but I will say that that was the most beautiful adventure I've ever had. Ever. I can't wait to do it again next year.

I sort of lucked out and un-lucked out at the same time. The day started out at probably 90 degrees at sun up and was 97 once it got warmed up a bit. It was like walking through warm soup when I left the office to grab lunch and I wasn't even running then! I think the coach almost died a few times during his 1000-mile leg in the middle of the day. He sure looked like he wanted to die as he finished it and I prepared to start my leg.

I started around 6:30 or 7 or... hell, I don't know what time it was anymore. I was hot and I had taken a nice detour through downtown Hagerstown (15 miles from where I needed to be) by taking a wrong turn. Turns out that the area by the C&O Canal out there is simply beautiful. I might like to live there one day and have some horses and a cat that chases mice in the night. Yes, a nice little farm house and farm pets. *Ahem* As I was saying...

Most of the stretch from Cumberland to Bethesda is on the path that runs along the canal, but my leg included the 5-mile stretch where you have to run on the road... the narrow, narrow, two-way road that is like a maze connecting all the big pretty farm houses. I was told that the locals don't all like having us around when I was getting ready to start my run, but I already knew this from the tail-gating and dirty looks I got as I took another few wrong turns on these narrow, narrow, rolling roads.

The sky turned cloudy about five minutes into my run. That was lucky because I spent that first five minutes negotiating a hill. (Not the best warm up, but it was too early for me to start out with smaller steps... I would have just wanted to stop and walk.) My biker turned out to be the MCP jokester himself, so that helped a lot. I think I stayed pretty much on pace (maybe? still standing by for the exact numbers) and that is pretty remarkable for such a hot miserable day and for sooooo many hills. He was a very good distraction and I owe him a lot for getting me through that. (Thank you.) Anyway, then we heard the thunder.

Wait, thunder?

Yes, thunder.

There was a thunderstorm coming. It was still a ways off, we could tell. There was about 20 seconds between each flash and boom. But it was definitely coming. It started to rain on us. I wouldn't call it a downpour, but they were the big drops that make a little *thud* on your head and soak right through your clothes (not that I would have minded being soaked). I was a mixture of happy and terrified. Isn't there something about not running in a thunderstorm? Pretty sure that's what you're supposed to NOT do. At this point, I was possessed and running faster than my normal pace because my madness had me convinced that I might somehow beat the storm to the end of my leg (yeah, right... 10 miles? Pshh.) Jokester friend helped out by reminding me that I still need to drink and handed me my little fuel bottles every now and then. We plugged along the road in the intermittent rain and dodged a car every so often. (Not everybody on the road was happy to see us and some didn't pull away from the side of the road much - or at ALL - when they zoomed past us.)

The rain sort of tapered off and I was sad to have experienced the beginning and end of my first rainy run without getting wet enough to feel good from it. Those drops seemed to soak through the shirt and then get lost somewhere before actually touching my skin, and my overheating arms and legs certainly didn't feel any relief from them.

Eventually, we hit the towpath and made our turn into the trail that mirrors the canal. What a happy moment! That meant I was more than halfway. "So I did 5.5 miles right? Only 4.5 left on this path and I'm home free?"

"Uhh, well..." [beeping sounds from the Pacerunner305 on his wrist]

The trail was a lot darker than the road because there was a thick canopy above us. I started to feel like Frodo with my Sam (on a bike) trying to stay one step ahead of the ringwraiths. Then we came up on some delightful hillbilly locals. (Tom Bombadil, is that you?) "Haaay! We saw yew 'bout three mah-les back!" one drawled incredulously. The other looked at him, as if to confirm that I was crazy enough to be that person they passed on the road earlier. I smiled and said, "Yep!" as I flew past them. The cooler temperature under the shade of the trees had me feeling good and I was at a pretty nice clip.

"So, now that I'm past halfway, I want to know how far I've gone." More beeping from Sam's wrist.

"Well.... let's just say you're halfway right about now." What??!

"WHAT?!?"

"Yeah, but we don't know if this is actually going to be 10 miles..."

"WHAT!?!"

"Let's just say if this leg really is 10 miles, you're halfway now."

"WHAT?!!"

And so I went, ploddingly. Nature was calling insistently by this point because I had overhydrated in the car during the 97-degree drive and I really didn't sweat much in the rainy, cloudy weather that came when I started. It had been damn hot, but I didn't have sunshine to beat me down. I didn't go slowly for too long after the bad news; I had to hurry in my quest for a port-a-potty.

When we finally got to one, it was damn dark. The sun must have set. I still had no idea what time it was. I took a flashlight in with me and was delighted to find that it did not smell. Not even a little bit. (A dash of good luck, at last!) I didn't worry about my hands being unsanitary as by this point, my whole body was covered in a slime consisting of sunblock & insect repellant lotion, sweat, rain, hay particles, dead gnats, spiderwebs, mud and gatorade. (Mmm!)

Taking a walk break to let my body catch up to me, I found that the bugs had more time to land on me and die in the slime. I could feel the impact of each tiny bug that made the mistake of landing on me. Eww. I started running again.

Pretty soon we reached a small clearing where the trees didn't completely block out the sky. "It's still day?!?" It was.

We passed a few more little clearings and Sam rode ahead into one to snap a picture of me in action, taking advantage of the natural light. I'm sure I looked exquisite in my slimy coat. We'll see when he sends it to me. (Right? You're sending it to me? Don't be offended I'm calling you Sam. This is me protecting your identity from the masses on the internets.)

It wasn't long before we came up on a bigger clearing, and just then we heard a honk and looked up to the road on the other side of the path from the canal. It was the coach and the team captain making their way to the next checkpoint. They yelled some encouragement and my instinct was to throw them the metal horns as I tried to yell 'Rock on!' but instead let out some kind of ungodly grunt. Or maybe I was even yelling. Who knows? The adrenaline got going again and I was trucking along nicely. Not a minute later, we passed some more trees and saw a parking lot up ahead.

I didn't want to get ahead of myself and I certainly didn't feel like I had run 10 miles... so I told myself that it wasn't the right one. "There must be 4 more parking lots, we have to pass, right?"

"Yeah, sure. That's the coach waiting up there waving his arms at us."

"REALLY!!??"

"Really."

I was pretty proud of myself. 10 miles... or so I thought. Sam checked the trusty Pacerunner305 and it turned out to be just shy of 8 miles. 7.86 or something like that. I felt pretty cheated. I didn't even do the distance I would have otherwise done at the group long run this morning! Cheap.

I stretched a little and sucked on some watered down gatorade. Coach and Sam took off on the next 4-mile leg. We had to move two cars, so I got to joyride in Sam's fun little Subaru. It's a stick shift with turbo, so you can bet it was a fun ride over to the next checkpoint. Those rolling hills and narrow, narrow roads were a lot more fun this way. (A lot of things are more fun when you're not running anymore and you're driving a fucking CAR, no?)

The coach was supposed to also run the next 4-mile segment that I would bike, but Sam and I were both feeling good and Coach still looked like he needed to hurry up and die to end the misery. So we volunteered to run it for him and each took two miles running and two miles on the bike. It was very dark by this hour and nowhere near a real city, so there was none of the ambient light I am accustomed to. I was fighting off the spooks the whole way. Sam decided it was a good time to joke about the Blair Witch Project. Ha.... ha. Not funny. I just focused on the spot my headlight lit up right in front of me and tried to concentrate my attention on taking the next step and not twisting my ankle on a camoflauged twig. (I twisted them both 2-3 times each, but no sprains or anything, thank goodness.)

The bike was a bigger adventure because I was supposed to be the steady helpful one, but it was too big for me and I probably almost rode off into a gully (or the canal!) about a dozen times. Man, was it dark.

When we came upon the next checkpoint, our car caravan of relief wasn't there waiting for us. We tried a cell phone but kept getting voicemail. Reception is spotty out that far. We checked the parking lot signs. That's the one. Where are they? Another guy asked us who we were with as he was waiting for his own team to arrive behind us. We sat around in the parking lot waiting for quite a while. My stomach started eating itself. The asphalt was bruising my tired ass. Where the hell were they? We saw a couple of bikes fly past along the trail and wondered why two people would be riding at this hour and not be part of Tom's Run.

Finally, after about half an hour, we got them on the phone. There was another lot--same number--about a quarter mile further down the trail.

Oh. God.

So Sam took off running and I mounted up again. We finally got there and figured out the whole mess. We thought something might have happened to them. They thought we must have been injured. Those two bikers we saw had been looking for us in case we needed help. Then we had to wait for them to cover the whole 4 miles and back and explain what had happened all over again. We had lost the half hour we gained during my surprise-it's-short segment and then some. Everyone had been awake for hours. I had been at work all day and Coach and the captain has been at this since midnight the night before. I was finally headed home, but for them the night was just beginning.

Sam drove me back to where my rental car was parked as I munched on two dry cheese topped bagels. They were officially the most delicious thing to ever touch my lips. I'm sure it was the delirium making me think that anyway. Then I drove the hour and forty minute drive home with the music blaring to keep me awake. My ass and lower back were aching and I couldn't seem to sit comfortably. When I returned the car to its spot, I had to walk ten minutes past a bunch of drunk, happy college students to get back to my building. I wanted to punch all those jolly drunkards in the face, but that's just me and my jealousy. The pain in my legs may have contributed to this feeling as well. Regardless, there was definitely ten minutes of wanting to punch faces and then home sweet home.

Of course I still had to clean out my fuel belt bottles and then take a shower so I wouldn't gunk up my bed. The shower was difficult. I just wanted to stand under the water, but I had to soap myself. My knees and ankles were raging at me and I could barely stand anymore. I finally collapsed into bed right around 3am and woke up to a call from Sam at noon. He was waiting for the others at the finish and just wondered if I was there.

Walking is painful, but it was all so worth it.

The ibuprofen and ice packs help, too.

Baby Long Run Tuesday

2007-06-05T22:45:00.000-04:00

I felt terrible today - even worse than yesterday - but I made myself run. Ended up feeling pretty good after the first mile so I ran for an hour. Almost hit 5 miles. Worked a couple of short sprints in there and then got into the grass for some crunches and stretching. Usually it takes about five seconds of running (or more!) to get me ridiculous happy and pumped. I think my threshold is getting higher (or maybe these last two days at work have just been as sucky as I think they were). The almost-two miles I did yesterday actually left me feeling worse than I started. I think my new MO will be to run until I feel good and then do whatever more I can or have time for after that. That seems to work well for me.

Also, since I'm getting into higher distances and trying to increase the days I run, I think I'll let this be the beginning of Baby Long Run Tuesdays. Long Run Saturdays were the only ones in the schedule before and I'd just sort of run twice sometime in the middle of the week, whatever distance I felt like. Monday can be the random cadence day since I still feel like my cadence shouldn't be limited to so narrow a range. I guess that leaves Thursday for either a hill workout with one of those groups in the city or just another 3-mile easy run to fill out the weekly miles I need to equal the distance of the coming long run. Let's see how long this lasts.

Not Raining. Boo.

2007-06-04T19:29:00.000-04:00

I was excited all day to go on my first rainy run after work since it was raining all of yesterday and most of today... of course it decided to dry up AND get sunny just in time for me to put in my short, short run. Just like a typical short run for me, I felt like losing my lunch for the entire duration, then I hopped in the shower for 10 and completely forgot what I had just been doing. So, I guess I feel okay. It's almost like the run part didn't happen and I just felt like taking a second shower today, but then my sweaty running clothes remind me otherwise.

Today's run was informally timed, but I know I was in the neighborhood of a 12:10-12:15 pace maximum. And it was just shy of 2 miles. I hate it when that happens because 1.89 seems like sooo much less than 2. Then I feel like a loser for not just running that extra eleven-tenths of a mile, but it's not like I knew how far it was when I was out there! This is what happens when you just run wherever the hell you feel like it and then use gmaps to see how far you ran afterward. You have no idea what you've accomplished while you're out there, and more importantly, you have no idea what irrationally significant mile marker you could be crossing if you were just slightly less of a wuss.

I should really stop dwelling on that now. The important thing is that I am a loser because running fast is hard and I am le tired.

Just to shake things up a bit, I decided I would experiment with cadence today. I noticed that I consistently run at the same tempo (or at least within a very narrow range) that is pretty slow in the grand scheme of things. I just sort of lengthen my stride or pick up my knees to go faster when I need to, but otherwise I'm comfortable at this tempo. So I thought, what better idea than to try to do three loops around this giganto lawn at a much faster tempo than I'm used to, even if I really feel like I'm about to toss that apple I just ate? And so I did.

I was taking some weenie-ass little steps at some points along the way, but for the most part I tried not to be too much of a wuss. I experienced very uncomfortable and largely irregular breathing patterns and turned very, very red. I broke that sweat barrier that usually takes so long for me to reach pretty much immediately after I started. I even felt some sweat trickle down my neck, which is an entirely new sensation for this former couch potato. I focused all of my energy on maintaining that pace... and whatever was left of my focus was used to try to steady my breath. I did keep the pace, though shortening my steps on the uphill sections, but was never too successful with that breathing thing.

Of course, today was the shittiest of all the shitty shit shit days at work. (Don't get me wrong, there will be worse.. but today was pretty bad.) So, the fact that my heart was fluttering uncomfortably the whole time reminded me of the preceding nine hours of my day. It does that when I am running too fast and wanting to punch people in the face. You could say that it's my heart's thing.

I don't know what else to add. I mean, my chest and stomach feel like crap. My blood pressure has sort of been elevated all day because of uncomfortable conversations with my mom and about 5,000 angry people. I ate an apple RIGHT before I ran. I might as well have chewed it up and spit it out all over the front of my shirt. (Okay, that was gross. I'll stop.) My legs are kind of burning. My calves and quads were sore from the moment I started running and are only moreso now. I don't think I stretched adequately, but I'm not really in a calm mood. So, that explains most of it. I'm sure I'm still in pretty okay shape as far as my preparation for the 8-miler this week. I shortened my run today because I want to run 3 times mid-week instead of twice.

Unfortunately, I think the work will stay tense for at least the next three days. Most likely, it will last all summer because the next two busy weeks will melt right into when my colleague has decided to leave us for his new job. Then it will all be the big suck again. I guess I'd better get a handle on this stress thing so I can start enjoying the running again!

Delicious

2007-06-03T19:41:00.000-04:00

“Meat is the best source of several nutrients. When our bodies are deficient in these, we become irritable and aggressive. This is a perfectly natural signal built into our genetic make-up over our evolution: our bodies are telling us to go out and kill something to eat. This is why strict vegetarians tend to be so vociferous. It is a trait that was recognized long ago; it was, after all, the vegetarian Cain who killed the carnivorous Abel, not the other way round.”

The Naive Vegetarian

Just sayin'. What? Oh, no... that really didn't have anything to do with the marathon or my training, did it? I'll try harder next time!

The Sun Will Shine Again

2006-07-31T14:32:00.000-04:00

The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when one asked me what I
thought, and attended to my answer.

--Henry David Thoreau

Okay, I get the hint.

2006-03-09T00:53:00.000-05:00

I'm coming back soon. I've been struggling with insomnia and finding that ever elusive combination of zeitgebers that will help me sleep and be awake at normal person hours. For now, I suppose I can ease back into this blogging thing... and the reading other people's blogs thing, too.

Oh yeah, did I mention I went on a trip through parts of the Yucatan and Central America at the beginning of the year? Of course not. Well, I did. It was all the things you are probably imagining it was plus a lot of ridiculous situations that only I seem to be able to create - so, in a word, crazyfun. I'll post some pictures from that eventually.

ENTJ

2006-02-21T18:41:00.000-05:00

"Experience teaches many ENTJs that restraint may often be the better part of valor, lest one find oneself victorious but alone."

(Source)

Hell Yes!

2005-11-17T22:25:00.000-05:00

So, after a couple of months of mental courting, I finally made a move and went to the CrossFit gym tonight. Baby, let me tell you... it delivers. This is really strange, or maybe not so strange because I'm still reading Ayn Rand, but working out tonight reminded me of what Communist Russia was not. (Yes, I know not everyone is peculiar in the head the way I am, so I'll explain.) In We The Living, Kira lived her life as if every ounce of her being screamed "Yes!" to everything. It was an answer to the question of the universe. An enthusiastic one. In the affirmative. I can't even express how much I love that idea. It makes working out so hard that you want to puke a pleasant experience, if you can imagine that. It makes the rest of my life pretty good, too.

Wow, and that reminds me of my last summer in LA when one of the congressman's DC guys came to the office and said that I was "effusively happy." Naturally, my response was more happiness. Then college and NYC's shitty weather beat the happy right out of me. I thought it was the lack of sunshine, but apparently I don't even need it. Near-excessive amounts of exercise fill that gap quite nicely. Is this another extreme addiction forming, Krischelle? Maybe. I'm going to reserve that judgement for tomorrow when I will inevitably find it difficult to even brush my teeth or walk down a flight of stairs. I'll have to see about getting there on Sundays now that I'm armed with the knowledge that I can show up hung-over from the night before, which derailed my plans last week. That ought to curb the feeling of uselessness that creeps in when I work that night shift.

Yay for endorphins!

my halloween costume

2005-11-09T03:04:00.000-05:00

Good Louis the Firefighter was unfortunate enough to be the one to pose with me in the only picture I have of my costume from head to toe. Note my fine package.

the form of my life

2005-11-08T22:39:00.000-05:00

I get so irritated when I go to read my friends' blogs and they haven't been updated, yet I rarely feel like updating mine these days. I guess it's because I'm working out my shit -- the shit that needs to be worked out privately -- and I'm doing a good enough job to know that I'd better hang on to the momentum I have and keep my trap shut. That significantly limits what I can write about here. I suppose a general summary of goings-on plus some assorted tidbits will do for now.

I'm spending plenty of time in school and at work, with karate sprinkled in as often as I can make it. I wake up at the crack of dawn on some days, and I stay up until the same time on others. I often run into a pilot roommate on his way in or out at those hours. Sometimes I become resentful of people who have more free time than I have, but then I remember why I do everything I do and come back from outer space.

I try to do a handstand for time every day so that one day I'll be able to do handstand push-ups and maybe even develop enough balance to do them away from a wall. I bought a $10 jumprope at Sports Authority the other day for my cardiovascular health and improved endurance. I hate that I paid so much for a jinky plastic rope just because it's Nike brand, but it was the only kind the store carried and I really needed to just buy a jumprope already. I plan to check out the CrossFit gym (finally) this Sunday to see how close I can get to Pukey the Clown without giving him a big hug. I finally figured out how to get my bike over the banister and down the stairs without injuring myself a few weeks ago. Yay, bike!

I've been thinking about moving to a new apartment in the area and driving my car out from California with Mamyrah in January. I want to dye my hair again. Maybe a big streak of color instead of my whole mane. I could stand a little more time to play, but I make do with what I have. Ayn Rand is my Chicken Soup for the Soul. I find it necessary to re-evaluate my life on nearly a daily basis, which can be wearisome, but I've come to understand that this practice is crucial to my continued progress. I can't wait for Christmas so my nephews can hug away all my earthly worries.

2005-10-24T15:39:00.000-04:00

No one means all he says, and yet very few say all they mean, for words are slippery and thought is viscous.

--Henry Brooks Adams, historian (1838-1918)

Marching On

2005-10-06T17:34:00.000-04:00

The old birthday passed pretty uneventfully this year... I got a lot of calls from special people and a specific special person gifted me with delightfully thoughtful books. Karate class started out with a new person this week - another woman, finally. She turned out to be kind of scary and unstable (namely, angry) and the crazy left a deep, gigantic bruise on the inner side of my upper arm. I didn't even notice it until the next day when I lifted my arms to tie up my hair. It looks totally gnarly, but at least it didn't hurt much to get it and I now know what to expect from her when (or if) she comes back to class. She's supposed to be back tonight.

I have a lot of ideas brewing but not enough time to get them down. Drafts won't do for these, so I hope to get back here and write about them very soon... or maybe throw them onto Lawrence's wiki/blog (linked in the sidebar). That thing is structured very much the way people think (non-linearly), but it still feels a little unmanageable to me as a place for me to lay ideas down. Linearity can be a hard habit to break.

all dressed up and no place to go

2005-09-29T17:20:00.000-04:00

I'm still sifting through old drafts that I never fleshed out. Several were too complicated and time-consuming, so I'm skipping to this late-August one. I don't really have anything profound to add to it, and so I'll just put it up and leave it at that.

Life cannot be classified in terms of a simple neurological ladder, with human beings at the top; it is more accurate to talk of different forms of intelligence, each with its strengths and weaknesses. This point was well demonstrated in the minutes before last December's tsunami, when tourists grabbed their digital cameras and ran after the ebbing surf, and all the 'dumb' animals made for the hills.

--B.R. Myers, author (1963- )

brevity

2005-09-23T21:14:00.000-04:00

I have so many drafts saved, and most of them are nothing more than a quotation that was deeply meaningful to me at one point or another. This is the earliest one, from July. Substitute just about any noun for "illness" (or not) and it fits my current mood rather well, I think. No need for exposition today.

Illness is in part what the world has done to a victim, but in a larger part it is what the victim has done with his world.

--Karl Menninger, psychiatrist (1893-1990)

sorting things out and sitting with them

2005-09-11T03:43:00.000-04:00

I've tried to write about this three times since yesterday, but I just can't bring myself to leave it the way it keeps coming out. This is the distilled version minus all the dramatics I kept adding the last couple of times I tried to write this. There are so many parts to it; and yet I can hardly separate any of it into reasonable parts.

I love someone. We aren't together anymore because he doesn't love me. A few days ago, I finally stopped to think about just how I would feel and what I would do if he actually started to love me. I found out that we still wouldn't be together, even if that were to happen. The relationship would never be whole because of what already took place, and I obviously need a whole relationship or none (being a person who wants to avoid inviting a lot of trouble into my life and all). More importantly, I found out that my desire to be with somebody is entirely separate from my capacity to love them. I never knew this before. Now here I am, and I love someone, and I don't want to be with him, and I don't know what to do with myself. It's the same feeling I used to get when I played basketball in elementary school and I would call a time-out when things were moving too quickly for me, but then the time-out wouldn't help me accomplish anything but to prolong the time I stood around panicking about what to do, not actually knowing how to improve my situation. It's that same feeling, except there aren't any bullies standing a few yards away to remind me that I can't take a time-out that lasts forever - I just already know that I can't.

So I love someone, I don't want to be with him, and it is making me feel the adult equivalent of the athletic-bullies-are-going-to-beat-me-and-then-make-fun-of-me panic. This, I think, is indicative of why it took me so long to realize that it was even possible for me to not want to be with a man whom I love. How so? Because I spent over a year knowing that we would never get back together but still believing that it was a possibility (not to mention secretly hoping that, in time, it would grow to be more than just a possibility). Operation: Just Keep Playing Because a Time-Out Won't Help You lasted an entire year (and then some) because it was easier for me to want to be with someone with whom I knew I could never be - the way it's easier to pretend you just don't notice that you're terrible at basketball and careening uncontrollably into an embarrassing loss because you can't bring yourself to take ownership of that fact or even think about doing something about it.

So here I am, a grown-up, trying to do something about it. I separated out my existing feelings and desires, and I'm still stuck here in love with someone and not wanting to be with him. I feel as if I should have some kind of revised game plan now that I've stopped to figure out the problem, but it's just not coming to me and there isn't any real reason to believe that I even should have a plan. Ahead of me there is only uncertainty. Pure uncertainty like I have never experienced before. This is not uncommon among the living world but, for some reason beyond my comprehension, this is the biggest and scariest adversary I could ever imagine for myself. It's not helping to know that this is part of what it is to be human and to be alive. I fully understand that it just is - that uncertainty is what lies ahead whether I like it or not - but maybe I don't want to (or can't) believe it just yet because I don't feel prepared to face it.

Here I am: I am in love with someone, I don't want to be with him, and I am emotionally paralyzed. I am terrified of the uncertainty that I face. I am even more terrified that this is permanent emotional paralysis rather than temporary lack of direction. As I pause to reread the things I have just written, I find them quite ridiculous - but they fairly accurately represent the fears that were ravaging me before I put them into words, and those fears have become lesser adversaries now that I actually have put them into words.

I'm a lazy blogger

2005-09-09T01:50:00.001-04:00

I just added the outline of an idea to my blog as a draft and realized that there are seven other entries waiting to be written from the past two months. I keep having these ideas I want to explore further and then I never get around to doing it. It's pretty disappointing, but also reassuring in its own way. It means I'm actually doing the better things I have to do in life. Those of you who know me very well (okay, the one of you - but I'm sticking with plural here) know that this is a big deal and why.

Back to my regularly scheduled programming.

my new digs

2005-09-01T22:10:00.000-04:00

My days of living under a loft bed that isn't quite lofted enough are over.

check out this bizzle

2005-08-26T02:34:00.000-04:00

Run your favorite website through www.gizoogle.com, sit back and chillax. It's straight up O-G, yo.

slushy milk is great

2005-08-19T14:47:00.000-04:00

I like to put the milk in the freezer for a couple of hours and then eat it with my cereal or drink it with chocolately goodness. Just put it in the freezer long enough for ice crystals to start forming, but not long enough for it to freeze solid. I've known few greater joys.

pumping ze iron

2005-08-12T13:40:00.000-04:00

I just wanted to plug this website I found on CrossFit for women who [want to] lift weights: [stumptuous.com]. The author, Krista, freely shares her wisdom in what I hold to be the true spirit of a sunshine policy (not to mention she's a total beast and my new hero). Just look at the heights of her beastiness!

I have much love and admiration for the stumptuous Krista.

staying alive

2005-08-11T01:32:00.000-04:00

I always remember my brother, James, being really cool when I was a kid. He was pretty responsible for most of the friends I had in high school besides the big three girlfriends for life. That was because he was a professional skater and all the skater kids wanted to be my friend because they thought my big brother was so cool. Obviously I make my friends a different way these days, but it wasn't a bad gig to be James Qua's little sister at Eagle Rock High School. Anyway, about a year before I left home, a lot of stuff happened and we didn't really talk for a while. Then college, growing up and such. Being on the other side of the country aided in my feeling of isolation from Qua family closeness in general, but sometimes being so far away just kept me too wrapped up in the fact that most of my family would forget that I'm a person and, more importantly, that I'm a changing person. I have to remind myself that my family is a loose aggregation of other individuals just like me, and that they change and I have to adapt as well.

Overly analytical as I am, I came to this conclusion a couple of years ago and revisit it pretty frequently. This time, though, I'm revisiting the idea because my brother started a blog. If you've been a faithful reader of The Supple Cow for the past two years, then you probably already know this is why I decided to start blogging under my own name, why I felt like I needed a change, and from where the inspiration for this new blog's title came. My brother not sharing my gender nor the encouragement of over-emotionalism that it attracts, his blog is more about biking and less about his thoughts and feelings. James now mountain bikes to feed his need for speed and thrills, which I think is awesome. He took me out on a really easy trail once several months ago and I had a blast. I don't know why it surprised me so much to realize how strong the James : Riding :: Krischelle : Karate analogy really is. (This realization inspired me to plug his Ride Log for my readers to check out. Of course, it has been in my sidebar for a couple of weeks now, but an official plug never hurts.) It really helps me not feel like I'm here in New York to escape my terrible family and more like I'm here to do what I need to do whenever I realize something like that. It sounds simple and straight-forward, but it's reassuring to have stuff in common with my brothers and sisters, and it hardly ever seems as simple as this. We both want to make ourselves tougher. Good deal, right?

Speaking of tough, I'm slowly but surely getting over my tendency to whine and be wussy in general. I realized this when I got home to discover the deepest defensive bruise I've had on my arms in the two months I've been doing karate... and I didn't even notice when it happened during class. This is it, but the picture is from a bad angle so you can't see how black and blue it really is:

Karate really lights me up. I don't know how else to say it. It's like all the great inspirational stuff I've ever gotten out of playing music or sports or getting good grades, only it's just for me. I'm not doing it for my bandmates or my teammates or to get into a good school. I'm just doing it to make a tougher me. I cut my lip at least once a week these days from missing a block, I've sustained a bruise like in that picture on both sides of both my forearms since day one, and I've been kicked in the head and stomach more times than I want to remember, but I keep getting up and asking for more. It's not because I'm a masochist, and it's not because I have something to prove. The only person I want to impress is myself. I have no reason to keep going other than because I want to. That's right - me.

The bonus is that I appear to be building muscle, too. I don't think I've ever seen my arms look this un-noodley in my entire life:

What can I say? I like. I'm hopeful that this ridiculous schedule of cramming CrossFit WsOD (Workouts of the Day) in between karate days will remain just as exciting to me, but the jury is still out on my ability to sustain these kinds of workouts at the same time. I've only done two CF WsOD since I discovered CF (on Sunday and today) but after tomorrow's karate class, that will make five consecutive days of intense workout. So far, all I've got to show for it is a slightly stronger resolve to be tough, a shitload of lactic acid in my body, and the pervasive odor of Tiger Balm following me wherever I go. Oh yeah, and also a reasonable explanation for my formerly ridiculous appetite. I guess that would be my favorite part.

earning a piece of electrical tape

2005-08-04T23:52:00.000-04:00

At the end of today's karate class, the instructor informed everyone to congratulate me because I just finished testing and didn't even know it. I wasn't expecting to test until the week after our workout/barbecue on the 21st. Now I get to put a little black stripe on both ends of my belt when I come to class on Tuesday. Hot stuff. Practicing in the living room when my roommates aren't looking and then getting laughed at when they catch me is totally worth it.

I am only an egg

2005-08-03T08:59:00.000-04:00

My last couple of classes have been good practice for me in (a) getting dropped quickly, (b) getting hit "gently" in the face, and (c) trying to achieve mushin, the state of newborn-like fearlessness and extreme readiness. Of course, I was only successful in doing (a) and (b) skillfully, because they both require only one real skill: minimizing the contact my head has with offending hard surfaces (namely, the floor or somebody's fist). That skill is pretty instinctive, I'd say. Mushin, on the other hand, is a lot more like a pipe dream for me right now. As I learned the hard way, I'm going to have to practice all of the basic blocking motions with another person a thousand more times in order to commit them to muscle memory, which is Step 1 towards extreme readiness (obviously). At this point, it seems like that day will never come because we practice this way so infrequently. Regardless, I spent a lot of my last class concentrating on the newborn-like fearlessness part, which is a mistake I will not make again, if I can help it. Spending all that energy on unfounded fearlessness meant also spending a lot of time getting kicked, punched, and generally smacked around without much (or any) defensive action to mitigate the blows.

I shouldn't complain, though, because I didn't get the worst of it. This older fellow in the class was practicing a blocking technique with me, and when three focused blocks from him warranted more spirited jabs from me, I started worrying less about controlling my punches and more about making them realistic... since he was going to block them anyway. (Right? Right?) That was when his completely unforeseen brain fart occurred and he just didn't step out of the way or deflect my fist. I made pretty good contact with his nose - VERY UNEXPECTEDLY - and watched in horror as it turned bright red. It was the kind of red your nose turns when you're about to cry. He didn't cry, but instead paused for a minute until the pain passed, and then placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned toward me like a person about to share a hefty secret. "You know," he said, "I've never been in a fist fight my whole life, if you can believe that." At first I thought he was just embarrassed and trying to make excuses, because he was, after all, turning bright red. But he continued: "You're the first person to ever hit me in the face!" Then he announced the same information to everybody else. (There were only two others there, including the instructor.) He just seemed so tickled by the whole thing, simultaneously shocked and tickled. I guess if I were a man with fifty odd years of living under my belt and the first time I ever got hit in the face was by a young lady - a girl in comparison - I would be pretty shocked and tickled as well.

His nose stayed Rudolph red for the remaining half hour of class. I'm just glad it didn't bleed.

Do

2005-07-31T21:32:00.000-04:00

What I say does not matter. The only thing that changes the score is what I do. I'll need to repeat this to myself for the rest of my life because it will never stop being true.

Meditation

2005-07-23T17:43:00.000-04:00

From The Theory & Application of Tradition Kata:
An Art with a Thousand Faces:

Moral Philosophy:
One mistake the modern karateka often makes, when trying to grasp conceptual origins, classical application theories and moral philosophy of karatedo, is to depend too much on contemporary assumptions. Knowledge taken for granted these days was originally locked in an ironclad ritual of secrecy known only by a select minority who had passed the arduous test of time. For the same reason one would never entrust a loaded weapon to immoral hands, so too did the early pioneers of this tradition believe that embracing a body of moral philosophy to govern the ethical behavior of those who mastered its brutal secrets superseded learning to fight.

My classes aren't in a traditional school, so this is the kind of lesson I only seem to get when I search for it online. I wonder how common it is for larger, more established schools to neglect these important lessons... and I wonder how the methods used to impart this information on adults and children differ.

I was just looking up the terms on my list of white belt (one stripe) requirements because I'll be testing at the end of August, and the list uses the Japanese names, which I'm not entirely familiar with yet. One kicking technique I haven't been taught yet is Kansetsu Geri, a stomping kick where you can break your opponent's knee. I looked it up to get a detailed description of it and found this fun video clip of Sensai Terry Lyon demonstrating it.

Elusive Butterfly

2005-07-11T11:48:00.000-04:00

"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings." (Anaïs Nin)

Before I found this quotation, I had come to an understanding that love (at least for me) is something that comes stealthily, mysteriously, even arbitrarily, and that its survival is largely independent of present circumstances. I am fairly certain that the rest of the enigma lies in the fact that love is too often conflated with the behaviors that surround it. So here I am now trying to untangle the mess for my own sanity. I'm sure there's a big, overly personal entry brewing in me, but I'm not quite sure what it's about yet. Well, I think I know who it's about, which should be half the battle (yet isn't), but it will probably be a little while before I understand what I've got on my hands, and I want to get some ideas down now.

Matthew expressed my initial thoughts pretty eloquently when he blogged about the quotation. (Matthew, you stole my twinkie so I'm helping myself to your homemade pie, if you don't mind. Deal? Deal.) The part that resonated with me most was that blindness is sometimes just holding your eyes closed against the light. Everyone I know either has strict rules about their romantic behavior or careens through relationships with nary a responsible thought. A small (very small) percentage of my acquaintances make seemingly reckless decisions that are actually just the right thing. The ones with rules look at the minority group and think that they are being helplessly foolish, but that just means they are following a logic the others don't understand. I'm still figuring my own rules out, but I've learned enough to know that using somebody else's rules doesn't work for me. That's the whole point of having the rules, isn't it - so that they improve my life by working for me? Anyway, Matthew nailed this feeling I had right on the head. The effect of blindness may actually come from blindness as a cause, but sometimes we have different reasons. Blindness is not weakness in and of itself.

Right now, I can't mentally separate my romantic behavior that's Just Plain Stupid from the behavior that Society Just Isn't Used To Yet. Furthermore, my instincts are telling me that both possibilities are way off because Everything I'm Doing and Feeling is Okay. I just don't have the theoretical framework to explain it yet. The closest I've come has been by using Paul Graham's ideas (again), à la What You Can't Say. I'm challenging society norms by challenging my own boundaries. Thinking outside the box. Saying words I can't say. Doing things I can't do. The end results, I trust, will be positive for everyone involved.

Meditation

2005-07-10T03:09:00.000-04:00

From Shitoryu Karate Do Cyber Academy:

Mokuso is part of the training of the mind called 'Mushin', which comes from Zen Buddhism. One must attempt to return to the mental state of a new-born-child that is without a sense of fear, not conscious of distress, pain, cold etc. A baby cannot anticipate these things and therefore has no fear and does not hesitate before moving. An adult knows fear and is afraid. When attacked they feel tense and are often useless against the assailant because movement is restricted.

If one sees a beautiful flower, normally the mind concentrates on it, but with an empty mind (Mokuso) the mind is aware of everything else as well as the flower.

So when one fights an enemy, attacking and defending, if only concentrating on blocking techniques, the mind is restricted to that movement, but if the mind is empty (and blocking practised enough) the body is able to do the next movement automatically and movements will always be natural.

If the body is tense it is wasting energy and restricting speed, it is essential to move without being conscious of it. That feeling is called Mushin.

From The Theory & Application of Tradition Kata:
"An Art with a Thousand Faces":

Spiritualism:
Realizing that the source of human weakness lay within, early innovators, many of them spiritual recluses, realized that man’s ultimate journey had to be inward, not outward. Discovering the source of human weakness also revealed the inner location in which man’s battles should be first fought & won before the outer circumstances of their daily lives could ever be improved. Transmitting this truth through their defensive discipline the pursuit of emancipation and harmony became a journey more highly desired than the physical vehicle used to achieve it.

Time to marinate.

For Dancers Only

2005-06-24T17:21:00.000-04:00

It is no secret to those closest to me that there are a lot of activities in which I wished to have participated as a youngling. Beyond the joining the local scout troop, taking legitimate dancing lessons, and being allowed near the ocean or even the deep end of a pool, there was the great hope of learning some form of martial art. I will spare myself the pain of writing yet another journal entry about how much I wish my parents had not raised me with such a narrow view of my abilities and an unhealthy amount of tacit pressure to become a heart surgeon, corporate lawyer, or concert pianist. I won't even talk about Catholicism or guilt. No, this is about karate now.

All of the hours I have ever spent sifting through the worthless ads on craigslist have paid off - big time. This is only possible because I decided to move to Queens instead of Brooklyn. It is only possible because I was growing tired of my little ailments who were beginning to bring their friends over and I knew I needed some exercise. It is only possible because the gym I joined turned out to be kind of lame and inconvenient. That's right, friends. I found legitimate karate classes on craigslist that run on donations instead of the many tuition dollars most schools ask for - and it's no scam. I am still a little shocked to have stumbled onto this situation myself.

The style is Koryu Uchinadi Kenpo Jutsu, currently led by a fellow in Australia by the name of Patrick McCarthy. It is a Japanese style with ties to traditional Chinese martial arts, but with a focus on more practical self-defense skills. I've only been going to classes for a little over a week, and I already know how to fend off (and hurt) an attacker in about a dozen ways. I am even surprised to find that I am capable of dozens of push-ups (when I couldn't even do five a few months ago) thanks to the nature of our hitting exercises. I can't even express how happy it makes me to be learning this art. My instructor, who so freely offers his knowledge out of his personal studio for small classes (~10 max.), means serious business. So do my classmates (well, of course there is the occasional schmuck, but that fool is always the exception). It's so refreshing to do something like this and to have everyone involved take it so seriously at the same time. This feels like the beginning of a very fulfilling time in my life.