Here's a surprise - I'm not too fond of doing things that I'm not good at. Hold the phone, I know. I really hate being bad at anything, so quite often, I just completely avoid those things that I'm bad at.
Enter The Year of Yes, and I can no longer run from these deficiencies. These perceived weaknesses.
Yes, in The Year of Yes, not only am I putting on a bathing suit - more than once a week! - I am also donning a cap and goggles. I'm jumping into the pool. Taking a breath, going under, and pushing off. I kick and crawl and flip and turn... And to date, I haven't drowned.
It's not that I can't swim. I spent a good few years on a swim team when I was growing up. Practicing twice a day - 8:30 AM and 4:30 PM. Diving in, swimming laps, and getting out. Diving in, swimming laps, and getting out. Staring at the black line, waiting for the "T", and then doing a somersault. Staring at the black line again.
The fact that I'm willingly subjecting myself to the monotony of swimming is appauling.
And the fact that I just might be warming up to it... well, that's just an example of what can happen when you start saying YES.
Today's Stats:
Type: Swim
Distance: 1 Mile
Time: Too long...
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Friday, January 05, 2007
Hope and Tonic
The results are in - I have been receiving treatment for major depression for nearly three months, now: and I feel better. Happy, good. Therapy - in all its shapes and forms - truly is ameliorative.
Unfortunately, I'm still exhausted, and my doctors weren't pleased. So it was back to the blood work. And as it turns out, I have subclinical hypothyroidism. I've read various articles that report as many as 10% - 20% of women have subclinical hypothyroidism; however most cases have no or very mild symptoms. Other research I've encountered is more alarming.
In one study, researchers found that subclinical hypothyroidism may increase the occurrence of depression. And in another article, I read how both subclinical hypothyroidism and major depression share a common physiological basis: triiodothyronine and L-tryptophan. Triiodothyronine, also referred to as T3 , is a hormone produced by the thyroid. L-tryptophan is a chemical present in the brain and a precursor to the manufacture of serotonin. Lower availability of L-tryptophan results in lower levels of serotonin in the brain - yes, the dreaded, "chemical imbalance."
Findings show that both T3 and L-tryptophan appear to be taken up by the same portion of red blood cells in the brain. And studies based on these finding suggest that taking a thyroid hormone replacement to treat subclinical hypothyroidism in addition to antidepressants speeds recovery of depression.
So that's the plan. I am now taking a synthetic thyroid hormone called levothyroxine. Levothyroxine is a synthetic derivative of thyroxine, also referred to as T4. Taking the medication should normalize the levels of TSH, T4, and T3 in my bloodstream. I take this new medication every morning. And luckily, it's available in a generic form, so it will only cost me $10 a month. (And believe me, I never thought I'd be complaining about prescription drugs at 26...)
Unfortunately, I'm still exhausted, and my doctors weren't pleased. So it was back to the blood work. And as it turns out, I have subclinical hypothyroidism. I've read various articles that report as many as 10% - 20% of women have subclinical hypothyroidism; however most cases have no or very mild symptoms. Other research I've encountered is more alarming.
In one study, researchers found that subclinical hypothyroidism may increase the occurrence of depression. And in another article, I read how both subclinical hypothyroidism and major depression share a common physiological basis: triiodothyronine and L-tryptophan. Triiodothyronine, also referred to as T3 , is a hormone produced by the thyroid. L-tryptophan is a chemical present in the brain and a precursor to the manufacture of serotonin. Lower availability of L-tryptophan results in lower levels of serotonin in the brain - yes, the dreaded, "chemical imbalance."
Findings show that both T3 and L-tryptophan appear to be taken up by the same portion of red blood cells in the brain. And studies based on these finding suggest that taking a thyroid hormone replacement to treat subclinical hypothyroidism in addition to antidepressants speeds recovery of depression.
So that's the plan. I am now taking a synthetic thyroid hormone called levothyroxine. Levothyroxine is a synthetic derivative of thyroxine, also referred to as T4. Taking the medication should normalize the levels of TSH, T4, and T3 in my bloodstream. I take this new medication every morning. And luckily, it's available in a generic form, so it will only cost me $10 a month. (And believe me, I never thought I'd be complaining about prescription drugs at 26...)
It may take up to six weeks for my symptoms improve while taking a thyroid hormone replacement. However I should expect moderate weight loss (yes!), less puffiness (yes-yes!), improved pulse (no complaints!), improvements in anemia (woo hoo!), less dry skin (nice!), thicker hair (very nice!), and lower LDL cholesterol (fantastic!).
Levothyroxine - please, start making miracles happen! Because I simply cannot wait to not always be so tired. There is just so much I want to do. And I don't want to sluggishly experience any of it! I want to be alert and energetic and excited! And I'm hopeful that I will be. Thank you modern medicine!
And thank you, Orison Swett Marden. I'm not quite sure where I originally found this quote, but it seems rather apropos at the moment.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
A Decemberist
The holidays really sneak up on you when your walk to work takes you past palm trees. And now, it's already December 24! Christmas Eve!
Looking back on how crazy the past few weeks have been, I realize that I live for December. For parties and cookies and egg nog. Friends and laughing and shopping and presents. Cheesy music and singing. Red dresses and white lights. LOTS of white lights.
December is happy. It really is, "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year."
The month went by very quickly, and now it is time to officially celebrate the holidays. This year I'll have Christmas in Lake Tahoe. With my roommate, AER, in her cabin in Squaw Valley. It's a great cabin in a fantastic location, almost walking distance from the mountain. (You can see the lifts from the kitchen table - if you look out past the hot tub on the deck!)
It is beautiful up here. And I am very excited to spend the rest of December in Lake Tahoe. It will be a wonderful way to enjoy the rest of my favorite month.
A very Merry Christmas to you all...
Looking back on how crazy the past few weeks have been, I realize that I live for December. For parties and cookies and egg nog. Friends and laughing and shopping and presents. Cheesy music and singing. Red dresses and white lights. LOTS of white lights.
December is happy. It really is, "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year."
The month went by very quickly, and now it is time to officially celebrate the holidays. This year I'll have Christmas in Lake Tahoe. With my roommate, AER, in her cabin in Squaw Valley. It's a great cabin in a fantastic location, almost walking distance from the mountain. (You can see the lifts from the kitchen table - if you look out past the hot tub on the deck!)
It is beautiful up here. And I am very excited to spend the rest of December in Lake Tahoe. It will be a wonderful way to enjoy the rest of my favorite month.
A very Merry Christmas to you all...
Monday, December 04, 2006
The Wild West
Living on the West Coast can make a girl go a little Wild...
And that's what exactly what I plan to tell myself when January rolls around and I begin my quest to complete a 1.5K swim, a 40K bike, and 10K run in Lake San Antonio, Monterey County, CA on Sunday May 6, 2007.
I'll tell myself that I'm WILD. Yes, wild. Wild, but not CRAZY!
I don't know, I'm a little nervous. Fortunately Walchka - who was in San Francisco this past weekend - seemed to think that my plans to take a swim/bike/run on the Wild side were pretty awesome. Come January, I hope I agree with him!
For now, though, I am feeling good. Great, even. I am finally starting to feel rested. And I am ready to tackle a new challenge... Well, I'll be ready in a couple more weeks. No need to rush into things. The goal is to be WILD. Yes, wild. Wild, not CRAZY!
And that's what exactly what I plan to tell myself when January rolls around and I begin my quest to complete a 1.5K swim, a 40K bike, and 10K run in Lake San Antonio, Monterey County, CA on Sunday May 6, 2007.
I'll tell myself that I'm WILD. Yes, wild. Wild, but not CRAZY!
I don't know, I'm a little nervous. Fortunately Walchka - who was in San Francisco this past weekend - seemed to think that my plans to take a swim/bike/run on the Wild side were pretty awesome. Come January, I hope I agree with him!
For now, though, I am feeling good. Great, even. I am finally starting to feel rested. And I am ready to tackle a new challenge... Well, I'll be ready in a couple more weeks. No need to rush into things. The goal is to be WILD. Yes, wild. Wild, not CRAZY!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
¡España, Otra Vez!
I don’t spend a lot of time in cars. And when I do, I’m not normally driving. I’m being chauffeured. Most of the time, the chauffeuring is being done by a taxi cab driver. But on Saturday night, Dad was driving. He and Mom were driving me to the airport in Philadelphia, after a few days in PA celebrating Thanksgiving. Nine hours later, I was sitting in a limousine on my way to the Ritz Carlton Madrid.
It’s a tough life…
I arrived to a plate of chocolates, nuts, and dried fruits. But I was too tired to notice. I crawled into my bed and awoke nearly four hours later. I proceeded to take one of the best showers of my life. The water pressure and water flow was amazing. Seriously, I felt like I was standing under a steady stream of buckets of water. Better be a good shower for 480 Euros a night, right?
At 9:30 PM, I met the team for dinner. These late dinners absolutely KILL me. Spain and food in general kill me. I’m rather certain that my meal cost about 100 Euros. And I would have been just as satisfied eating a salad from Whole Foods for seven bucks. I don’t get Spanish food, really. So much bread. So little meat. So much fat. At least they poured healthy servings of wine.
The next day, we had a large meeting with almost 100 doctors and scientists who would participate in this clinical trial. The meeting went very well, and the presentation I gave ranks as one of the coolest speeches I have ever given. I was the only American in attendance at the meeting. And even though the participants were doctors and scientists, not everyone is completely fluent in English. Hence, my presentation was translated into Czech, French, Italian, Portuguese, and Spanish. Everyone wore headphones while I spoke. It’s how I envision the United Nations operates. I couldn’t help but get wrapped up in that idea. It was cool.
After the meeting, the group attended a fancy dinner out on the town in Madrid. We ate in what used to be a casino but is now a space for private parties. At the dinner, I quickly made friends with the Italian doctors. Or rather, they quickly made friends with me. They noticed that my last name ends in a vowel, and had to ask, “From what village is your family?”
(Now, Dad, before you get all excited and impressed by these Italian men, you should know they are very disappointed that you have not brought your family to your homeland. And their eyes nearly bulged out of their heads when they heard that your Irish wife has been to Italy but you have not. So, maybe you should get on that?)
After a brief meeting Tuesday morning, I found myself with a free day in España. So I packed my bags and headed to the train station, La Estacion de Atoche. Just a few blocks from my hotel, I walked there, suit case in tow, and purchased a ticket to Toledo. Toledo is a small town approximately 70 kilometers outside of Madrid. A thirty-minute train ride followed by a 5 minute cab ride, and I was checked into my hotel, Toledo Imperial, right next to El Alcazar.
As I stood out on my balcony, looking at the cobblestone, labyrinth-like maze of city streets, I couldn’t believe I had taken myself all the way from San Francisco through the Spanish country-side and into what is essentially a medieval town. All without speaking more than a few words of English. For anyone who has traveled abroad extensively, this little trip from Madrid to Toledo is no big deal. But to me, traveling on my own, in Europe only for the second time in my life... I was a little pleased with myself. But I've always been good at navigation!
And so I dropped off my bags, grabbed my camera, and set out to explore the town. I shopped. I ate. I took pictures. I realized I needed an adapter to plug in my electronics, so I hunted one down. No one spoke English, so my Spanish skills were put to the test, but I survived. And I bought an adapter for only 1,50 Euros. My fun was cut short by rain, but it was still a nice trip outside of Madrid. Toledo is a beautiful city, and I highly recommend this day trip to anyone visiting Madrid.
I got back to San Francisco late last night. The return trip took roughly twenty-four hours, from hotel to train station to airport (Madrid) to airport (Philadelphia) to airport (San Francisco) to apartment. It is amazing how tiring it is to sit on your ass in an airplane all day. Especially after a few days of leisurely strolling around town barely speaking to anyone.This month alone, I have traveled 23,134 miels on United. That's a lot of miles. And a lot of hours. A lot of time staring at the "Welcome to United Economy Plus" sticker. And a lot of time thinking about life. But as exciting as traveling is, it's nice to be home again. Nice to get back into the groove. Again. ¡Otra vez!
Friday, November 24, 2006
All I Want for Christmas 2006
It is that time of year again. And it has been since the day after Halloween. But in honor of Black Friday, I think it best to compose The List: All I Want for Christmas 2006.
- Energy. To wake up at 6:00 a.m. every day.
- Courage. To try new activities, like snowboarding and skiing and wakeboarding.
- Inspiration. To never settle.
- Charisma. To make each day brighter.
- Serenity. At home. At work. Despite the stress.
- Love. From a man.
- Loyalty. From my friends.
- Support. From my family.
- Ambition. To train for another race.
- Perseverance. To push through when it gets difficult.
- Speed. To run a marathon in 3:40.
- Acceptance. Of myself. For what I am and what I am not.
- Understanding. Of my brother. For what he is and what he is not.
- Patience. With my mother. And my father. Because I am only going to need more as the years pass.
- Discipline. To resist chocolate. Alcohol. Peanut butter. (In excess…)
- Forgiveness. For everything.
- Optimism. Because goodness often hides.
- Empathy. For everyone I know and love.
- Humor. Because I rarely feel like doing sit-ups.
- Laughter. Is there anything better on which I can blame the wrinkles around my eyes?
- Introspection. To write and read and think.
- Money. For now. And for later.
- Conversation. Over pots and pots of coffee.
- Pride. For who I am today. And for who I am going to be.
- Joy. To share with those around me.
- Growth. Despite the pains.
- Thoughtfulness. To give great presents.
- Depth. Underneath layers and layers and layers.
- Thick skin. To shrug off the criticism.
- Confidence. To toe the line.
- Curiosity. To explore. Dream. Discover.
- Peace. To sleep soundly.
- Flexibility. To bend when it’s necessary.
- Leadership. And something to believe in.
- Chemistry. And snap, crackle, pop.
- Surprise. Every once in a while. To keep it interesting.
- Warmth. In a smile.
- Comfort. In the embrace of someone I love.
- Excitement. In the ordinary.
- Excellence. Because anything worth doing, is worth doing excellently.
- Frequent Flyer Miles. To soak it all in.
- A porch swing. On which to sit on a clear night.
- A bay window. From which to view the San Francisco skyline.
- A boat. By which to sail away.
- Sand between my toes. While I lie and think about nothing.
- Musicality. Because life needs a soundtrack.
- Wisdom. To know what is important.
- To be genuine. "Even better than the real thing..."
- Creativity. To alleviate boredom.
- To "make the most of [myself], for that is all there is of [me]." (Emerson)
Monday, November 20, 2006
On the Road
For a while now, it has been hard to get started. Running. Going to yoga. Cleaning my room. Returning phone calls. And of course, writing.
But once I do get started, things aren't as bad as I think they'll be. I am always glad I went on that run. Or to that yoga class. I am always pleased with myself for cleaning my room. I am always happy after catching up with that old friend.
And with all that said, I do feel a little bit better about a few things. It is good to get in a benchmark of where I am out in the open. Because in the future, I will only feel "better" with a frame of reference for where I was.
And so, I am now officially on the road. Again. For the first time.
On the road, training for another race. (Kaiser Permanente San Francisco Half Marathon) I'm training with my roommate this time, which will be great. We'll run three-four days a week with plenty of cross training activities to keep it interesting. I am excited.
On the road, traveling for work and pleasure. I just got back from Phoenix and I'm headed to Philadelphia to visit my family for Thanksgiving tomorrow night. From Philadelphia, I'll continue onto Madrid for another work meeting, then onto Toledo for some exploration on my own.
On the road, to figuring out what I really want to get out of therapy. And on the road, to reaching inner peace and happiness.
But once I do get started, things aren't as bad as I think they'll be. I am always glad I went on that run. Or to that yoga class. I am always pleased with myself for cleaning my room. I am always happy after catching up with that old friend.
And with all that said, I do feel a little bit better about a few things. It is good to get in a benchmark of where I am out in the open. Because in the future, I will only feel "better" with a frame of reference for where I was.
And so, I am now officially on the road. Again. For the first time.
On the road, training for another race. (Kaiser Permanente San Francisco Half Marathon) I'm training with my roommate this time, which will be great. We'll run three-four days a week with plenty of cross training activities to keep it interesting. I am excited.
On the road, traveling for work and pleasure. I just got back from Phoenix and I'm headed to Philadelphia to visit my family for Thanksgiving tomorrow night. From Philadelphia, I'll continue onto Madrid for another work meeting, then onto Toledo for some exploration on my own.
On the road, to figuring out what I really want to get out of therapy. And on the road, to reaching inner peace and happiness.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
80 Degrees and Sunny
...
Been staring at this draft for a while, now. Not quite sure where to begin. For starters, I'm in San Francisco. NOT Chicago. The meeting I was supposed to have in Chicago next week - the meeting to deliver my most recent project at work to the client - was cancelled. On Thursday afternoon. And with it, my flight to Chicago on Saturday morning to run in the Chicago Marathon.
Since Thursday afternoon I have been angry, and sad. Frustrated and stressed. Irritated with my project. My client. My job. And, if I'm being honest, my life. Because it always seems to work this way. Up and down and up again and down again. Hurry up and wait. Get it done yesterday turned, eh, it's not really needed anymore. I am overwhelmed and exhausted and tired. I am so tired. I really have never been this tired in my entire life. And I need... well, I don't know what I need. Or want, at this point. Other than to figure it out. I need and want to make some changes.
But admist the fluster and aggravation and disappointment, I am relieved, too. RELIEVED!
Because I'm not prepared. I'm not prepared to run this marathon. On such little sleep and so few long runs. Through rain and 40 degree temperatures. I'm not ready to attack the physical challenge of the marathon. Furthermore, and more importantly, I'm really not ready to attack the mental challenge. For so many reasons...
So I didn't buy my own ticket to Chicago. And I am not running this race tomorrow. I'm not going to push myself through something else that's been on my list of things to do just to cross it off. I'm not going to run myself down any more than I already am. I'm not going to just, "make it work."
It is 80 degrees and sunny today in San Francisco. I am going to take a long walk to the bridge, and I am going to read my book, and I am going to clear my head.
Been staring at this draft for a while, now. Not quite sure where to begin. For starters, I'm in San Francisco. NOT Chicago. The meeting I was supposed to have in Chicago next week - the meeting to deliver my most recent project at work to the client - was cancelled. On Thursday afternoon. And with it, my flight to Chicago on Saturday morning to run in the Chicago Marathon.
Since Thursday afternoon I have been angry, and sad. Frustrated and stressed. Irritated with my project. My client. My job. And, if I'm being honest, my life. Because it always seems to work this way. Up and down and up again and down again. Hurry up and wait. Get it done yesterday turned, eh, it's not really needed anymore. I am overwhelmed and exhausted and tired. I am so tired. I really have never been this tired in my entire life. And I need... well, I don't know what I need. Or want, at this point. Other than to figure it out. I need and want to make some changes.
But admist the fluster and aggravation and disappointment, I am relieved, too. RELIEVED!
Because I'm not prepared. I'm not prepared to run this marathon. On such little sleep and so few long runs. Through rain and 40 degree temperatures. I'm not ready to attack the physical challenge of the marathon. Furthermore, and more importantly, I'm really not ready to attack the mental challenge. For so many reasons...
So I didn't buy my own ticket to Chicago. And I am not running this race tomorrow. I'm not going to push myself through something else that's been on my list of things to do just to cross it off. I'm not going to run myself down any more than I already am. I'm not going to just, "make it work."
It is 80 degrees and sunny today in San Francisco. I am going to take a long walk to the bridge, and I am going to read my book, and I am going to clear my head.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Let Me Work It
It's not quite "3:40:59." That was a killer list. This one borrows from "3:40:59" here in there, but I'm trying a new approach, this time. I'm hoping it at least gets me there in 3:54:00. WORST case. 3:50:00 would be better.
At any rate, finishing - it is worth it. So now it's time work it...
At any rate, finishing - it is worth it. So now it's time work it...
| Name | Artist |
| Marching Bands of Manhattan | Death Cab For Cutie |
| Utilitarian | Spoon |
| Mother We Just Can't Get Enough | The New Radicals |
| Bang a Gong (Get It On) | T. Rex |
| Outsiders | Franz Ferdinand |
| Small Stakes | Spoon |
| Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkey | The Beatles |
| Kissing The Lipless | The Shins |
| Neighborhood #3 (Power Out) | Arcade Fire |
| Bury Me | Guster |
| Little Ghost | The White Stripes |
| Gravel | Ani DiFranco |
| Piper | Phish |
| Paint It, Black | The Rolling Stones |
| Steady, As She Goes | The Raconteurs |
| Let the Cool Goddess Rust Away | Clap Your Hands Say Yeah |
| Nausea | Beck |
| Scrap Metal | Bitch And Animal |
| Barely Legal | The Strokes |
| The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song… | The Flaming Lips |
| Jonathon Fisk | Spoon |
| Look Good In Leather | Cody Chesnutt |
| All These Things That I've Done | The Killers |
| Novacane | Beck |
| Crazy | Gnarls Barkley |
| Come Again | Saigon |
| Beware of the Boys | Panjabi MC |
| 8 Miles and Runnin' | Freeway & Jay-Z |
| SOS | Rihanna |
| Notorious Thugs | Notorious B.I.G. |
| Sexyback | Justin Timberlake |
| California Love | 2Pac, Dr. Dre & Roger Troutman |
| Dirt Off Your Shoulder | Jay-Z |
| My Humps | Black Eyed Peas |
| Bring the Pain | Method Man |
| How Do You Want It | Tupac Shakur |
| What You Waiting For? | Gwen Stefani |
| Lucifer | Jay-Z |
| Gone Daddy Gone | Gnarls Barkley |
| Party Up (Up in Here) | DMX |
| Just Lose It | Eminem |
| Nasty Girl | Nitty |
| In da Club | 50 Cent |
| Triumph | Wu-Tang Clan & Cappadonna |
| Fire (Yes, Yes Y'all) | Joe Budden & Busta Rhymes |
| Hotel | Cassidy & R. Kelly |
| Method Man (Skunk Mix) | Wu-Tang Clan |
| Work It | Missy Elliott |
| Stop Being Greedy | DMX |
| Lose Yourself | Eminem |
| P.I.M.P. | 50 Cent |
| Feel So Good | Mase |
| Good Girls, Bad Guys | DMX & Dyme |
| My Love | Justin Timberlake |
| 30 Gallon Tank | Spoon |
| 8 Mile | Eminem |
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
8 Miles and Runnin'
I have just launched the largest software system I have ever built. And I am 100% exhasuted by the last six weeks of my life.
Not that I'm 100% recovered from the twelve weeks of business travel I endured from June through August. Every now and then, I still wonder if my watch is programmed for the correct timezone.
I am somewhat cranky. And sleep deprived. Stressed, and anxious. I am tired...
But I can't rest yet!
Because my flight for Chicago departs from SFO on Saturday morning at 6:00 a.m. And I'll be flying First Class (Oh, business travel does have its rewards!) headed for an arrival at ORD by 12:00 Noon. And then it's off to 2301 South Martin Luther King Drive.
I've got a Race Packet to pick-up!!!!
So this Sunday, October 22, find me in Chicago, IL. In the Preferred II Start Corral.
It's Chicago Marathon time, Baby. I'm not making any promises, as I have not put in the level of endurance training I put in prior to Rock N Roll back in June. (Really? A 20 miler?) But I have churned out a few 16 milers. And quite regularly - for whatever reason - I have complete brick cycle/run workouts. So it shouldn't be too much of a surprise that my new average 8 Mile pace is sub 8:00.
Throw in the fact that my friends from DC and UVA (LGA, EMI, ESB, and CCE) are all going to be in the crowds to cheer me on and that I know - really, I KNOW - to never, ever, drink PowerAde. Again. And, shit, the fact that I'm running with Walchka, and I realize I'm pretty effing excited to run this race. And it's about effing time!
I feel a playlist coming on...
Not that I'm 100% recovered from the twelve weeks of business travel I endured from June through August. Every now and then, I still wonder if my watch is programmed for the correct timezone.
I am somewhat cranky. And sleep deprived. Stressed, and anxious. I am tired...
But I can't rest yet!
Because my flight for Chicago departs from SFO on Saturday morning at 6:00 a.m. And I'll be flying First Class (Oh, business travel does have its rewards!) headed for an arrival at ORD by 12:00 Noon. And then it's off to 2301 South Martin Luther King Drive.
I've got a Race Packet to pick-up!!!!
So this Sunday, October 22, find me in Chicago, IL. In the Preferred II Start Corral.
It's Chicago Marathon time, Baby. I'm not making any promises, as I have not put in the level of endurance training I put in prior to Rock N Roll back in June. (Really? A 20 miler?) But I have churned out a few 16 milers. And quite regularly - for whatever reason - I have complete brick cycle/run workouts. So it shouldn't be too much of a surprise that my new average 8 Mile pace is sub 8:00.
Throw in the fact that my friends from DC and UVA (LGA, EMI, ESB, and CCE) are all going to be in the crowds to cheer me on and that I know - really, I KNOW - to never, ever, drink PowerAde. Again. And, shit, the fact that I'm running with Walchka, and I realize I'm pretty effing excited to run this race. And it's about effing time!
I feel a playlist coming on...
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Stifled
Everyday, it weighs on me. Because I really want to do it. I want to have the time. I want to have something to say. I want it to flow and be good. I want to finish and review and redo and finish again. And again.
And I want it to feel good. I want to enstill pride. With a touch of fear. Of what people'd think. I'd want the feedback... As long as I wanted to want it, though. Yeah, that's what I guess I really want.
But I can't seem to find the words let alone write them down.
It doesn't choke. But it does kind of stifle, a bit. However it isn't angering. Actually, it just makes me feel incredibly tired. Too tired to find the patience to do a whole lot about it.
It'll come back...
And I want it to feel good. I want to enstill pride. With a touch of fear. Of what people'd think. I'd want the feedback... As long as I wanted to want it, though. Yeah, that's what I guess I really want.
But I can't seem to find the words let alone write them down.
It doesn't choke. But it does kind of stifle, a bit. However it isn't angering. Actually, it just makes me feel incredibly tired. Too tired to find the patience to do a whole lot about it.
It'll come back...
Sunday, October 01, 2006
How Stella Got her Groove Back
I just found this link.
And for the first time in a long time, the thought of running the Chicago Marathon is actually making me smile.
I'm bouncing my knee.
I'm nervously grinning.
I'm enjoying the feeling of my heart beating in my throat.
I'm cracking my knuckles.
I'm stretching my hip flexors.
I'm confidently tightening my pony tail.
I'm donning my tights.
I'm lacing my Asics.
And I'm getting off of the couch...
NOW.
And for the first time in a long time, the thought of running the Chicago Marathon is actually making me smile.
I'm bouncing my knee.
I'm nervously grinning.
I'm enjoying the feeling of my heart beating in my throat.
I'm cracking my knuckles.
I'm stretching my hip flexors.
I'm confidently tightening my pony tail.
I'm donning my tights.
I'm lacing my Asics.
And I'm getting off of the couch...
NOW.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
The Least Complicated
I think we always know what we're getting into. Deep down, we know.
It doesn't take much for that gut feeling to take shape. It comes together, and then sinks down, nice and low. So low sometimes that we can't feel it. We can't hear it. For the rest of the night, the weekend, or the month. Sometimes for two and a half years. Yes, sometimes we ignore it for that long. But all along, we know.
We know when we justify. And make excuses. And omit key details of stories to our friends. We know when we don't ask them to meet our parents. When we don't call. When they don't call. When we don't go to breakfast in the morning.
He asked for my number on Saturday. He emailed on Tuesday. And he called tonight. And tomorrow, we're... Do I have a date tomorrow night?
SHIT! What am I getting into?
Deep down, I don't know this time. On the surface, it's a little complicated. No, really, it is. Or is it? Deep down, does it really matter? I don't think it should. Maybe at first it will. But deep down, we all know. I mean, it's not that complicated. Number. Email. Call. "Date."
SHIT! I just GIGGLED!
The ones that work are always the least complicated. Hardest to learn, but least complicated.
It doesn't take much for that gut feeling to take shape. It comes together, and then sinks down, nice and low. So low sometimes that we can't feel it. We can't hear it. For the rest of the night, the weekend, or the month. Sometimes for two and a half years. Yes, sometimes we ignore it for that long. But all along, we know.
We know when we justify. And make excuses. And omit key details of stories to our friends. We know when we don't ask them to meet our parents. When we don't call. When they don't call. When we don't go to breakfast in the morning.
He asked for my number on Saturday. He emailed on Tuesday. And he called tonight. And tomorrow, we're... Do I have a date tomorrow night?
SHIT! What am I getting into?
Deep down, I don't know this time. On the surface, it's a little complicated. No, really, it is. Or is it? Deep down, does it really matter? I don't think it should. Maybe at first it will. But deep down, we all know. I mean, it's not that complicated. Number. Email. Call. "Date."
SHIT! I just GIGGLED!
The ones that work are always the least complicated. Hardest to learn, but least complicated.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Where (Heart and) Soul Meets (Mind and) Body
They talk to one another. Oh, sure. All the time. That much I know. But sometimes, I have no idea who initiates the conversations.
Since my body can't move without my mind sending it signals, I'm inclined to think that my mind is in charge. But I think The Body can take over sometimes. For the past three months, I think my body has been trying to control my mind. The result is that my boyd was telling my mind what to go back and tell my body. And what's worse is that my mind seems to have always been following orders!
Throughout the entire summer, my mind has known that it should have been running. And my mind knows how fast each run I actually did complete should have been ran. How long each run should have lasted. When to have pushed through and when to have pulled back. My mind KNOWS. She has done her research.
However, for an entire three months, my body - this LAZY body - has dominated the daily debate:
I haven't been able to write much this summer. Again, it has been a couple of weeks since I last wrote. And while it is true that I haven't had a lot of time to say much, it is also true that I haven't had much to say. And while I'm sad that I haven't had a whole lot to say, I'm more sad about my lack of initiative to really do much about the situation. I didn't take very many steps to get my life back in order this summer. To be true to my priorities, and to make time for what really matters. Something that is both difficult and disturbing for me to admit.
...Today is September 26. SHIT! It's already the end of September. That fact is also both difficult and disturbing to admit, to realize; but it is also comforting. A new season, and a new start. (I know that the current season is autumn, and that autumn isn't normally used in metaphors for starting again, but have you ever seen a San Francisco autumn?) I am pretty that the fall air has inspired my my mind to again rn shop. And I think she's running pretty strong! Because we ran well today. Me and the roommie, AER. We ran to the Golden Gate Bridge and back, for 8 miles in 65 minutes. At an average pace of 8:07/mile. And we felt great.
It is a homecoming that is drastically past due, but nevertheless much appreciated. I am so glad to be back. To that place where my thoughts and actions collide, my intentions and responses synchronize. Where I do what's right instinctively. When my spirit begins to sing and my heart begins to dance. In that place where my heart and soul, along with my mind and body endure.
Since my body can't move without my mind sending it signals, I'm inclined to think that my mind is in charge. But I think The Body can take over sometimes. For the past three months, I think my body has been trying to control my mind. The result is that my boyd was telling my mind what to go back and tell my body. And what's worse is that my mind seems to have always been following orders!
Throughout the entire summer, my mind has known that it should have been running. And my mind knows how fast each run I actually did complete should have been ran. How long each run should have lasted. When to have pushed through and when to have pulled back. My mind KNOWS. She has done her research.
However, for an entire three months, my body - this LAZY body - has dominated the daily debate:
- Run? Don't run?
- Fast? Slow?
- Give it your all? Give it all up?
I haven't been able to write much this summer. Again, it has been a couple of weeks since I last wrote. And while it is true that I haven't had a lot of time to say much, it is also true that I haven't had much to say. And while I'm sad that I haven't had a whole lot to say, I'm more sad about my lack of initiative to really do much about the situation. I didn't take very many steps to get my life back in order this summer. To be true to my priorities, and to make time for what really matters. Something that is both difficult and disturbing for me to admit.
...Today is September 26. SHIT! It's already the end of September. That fact is also both difficult and disturbing to admit, to realize; but it is also comforting. A new season, and a new start. (I know that the current season is autumn, and that autumn isn't normally used in metaphors for starting again, but have you ever seen a San Francisco autumn?) I am pretty that the fall air has inspired my my mind to again rn shop. And I think she's running pretty strong! Because we ran well today. Me and the roommie, AER. We ran to the Golden Gate Bridge and back, for 8 miles in 65 minutes. At an average pace of 8:07/mile. And we felt great.
It is a homecoming that is drastically past due, but nevertheless much appreciated. I am so glad to be back. To that place where my thoughts and actions collide, my intentions and responses synchronize. Where I do what's right instinctively. When my spirit begins to sing and my heart begins to dance. In that place where my heart and soul, along with my mind and body endure.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Empty Your Pockets Until They're Full
I can already feel it before I'm even there. The fear. The pain. And a little bit of dread. But mostly the fear. And as I get ready, the fear only mounts. I open that door and I feel the nervous energy take over. The heat is on. Literally. I swallow the fear that is perched at the back of my throat.
It starts and I am quickly reminded of why I come here. Because with every breath, I am a little bit taller. My head a bit higher, my shoulders less slouched. With every breath, I am a little more confident. A little more hopeful, with every breath. Less fragile; instead, more flexible, easygoing.
I am a little less afraid, with every breath.
Of the pain. In all its shapes and forms. That I am feeling right now and that which I feel all the time. I am a little less afraid of it. Because, I realize, it doesn't last. Not for long, forever. Once I let it in, I can confront it and allow it to pass. So that it ebbs and flows such that my tears well but then subside.
It hurts, it does. For 60 seconds or 60 months, either way. But we can come out of it. We do come out of it. We inhale deeply and we sigh slowly. And we release all that made us clench and twist and wince. We let go of the bite and the snap. We reach that point when we lick our lips and nod our head and move on.
For 90 minutes. For 90 years. We suck and we suck and we suck it all in. We hold it and carry it and too often, refuse to let it go. We strain and we wear down. We hold our breath and we purse our lips. Our hearts boom and we let them.
Until we burst. Until that time when our only remaining option is to let go. To blow it out. To blow it all out. Until there is nothing left. We sigh and we laugh and we cough and we sing and we scream and we sweat and we cry. Until there is nothing left. Until we are empty.
We empty our eyes and our minds and our mouths and our ears and our hearts. We give all that is left of ourselves. We don't stop for 60 seconds or 60 months. For 90 minutes or 90 years. We empty ourselves over and over and over again.
Until we are full.
It starts and I am quickly reminded of why I come here. Because with every breath, I am a little bit taller. My head a bit higher, my shoulders less slouched. With every breath, I am a little more confident. A little more hopeful, with every breath. Less fragile; instead, more flexible, easygoing.
I am a little less afraid, with every breath.
Of the pain. In all its shapes and forms. That I am feeling right now and that which I feel all the time. I am a little less afraid of it. Because, I realize, it doesn't last. Not for long, forever. Once I let it in, I can confront it and allow it to pass. So that it ebbs and flows such that my tears well but then subside.
It hurts, it does. For 60 seconds or 60 months, either way. But we can come out of it. We do come out of it. We inhale deeply and we sigh slowly. And we release all that made us clench and twist and wince. We let go of the bite and the snap. We reach that point when we lick our lips and nod our head and move on.
For 90 minutes. For 90 years. We suck and we suck and we suck it all in. We hold it and carry it and too often, refuse to let it go. We strain and we wear down. We hold our breath and we purse our lips. Our hearts boom and we let them.
Until we burst. Until that time when our only remaining option is to let go. To blow it out. To blow it all out. Until there is nothing left. We sigh and we laugh and we cough and we sing and we scream and we sweat and we cry. Until there is nothing left. Until we are empty.
We empty our eyes and our minds and our mouths and our ears and our hearts. We give all that is left of ourselves. We don't stop for 60 seconds or 60 months. For 90 minutes or 90 years. We empty ourselves over and over and over again.
Until we are full.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Chain Two
Well, today it happened. Finally. I got sick.
I woke up to a sore, dry throat. And a headache that should only be felt on a Sunday morning after a fantastic wedding. 16 hours, 16 glasses of water, and 8 advil later, I still can't seem to evade the pounding in my head.
It seems as if the summer has caught up with me. Of course! One day after I finally woke up on the RIGHT side of the bed. And had a calm day at work. One day after I developed new ideas for how to overcome my lack of ambition... (More to come, naturally.)
And so, I sit on the couch. Crocheting a blanket. Trying to focus on something other than the hammer that is pounding against the back of my left eye.
Single crochet, chain one, single crochet, chain one, single crochet, chain two...
I woke up to a sore, dry throat. And a headache that should only be felt on a Sunday morning after a fantastic wedding. 16 hours, 16 glasses of water, and 8 advil later, I still can't seem to evade the pounding in my head.
It seems as if the summer has caught up with me. Of course! One day after I finally woke up on the RIGHT side of the bed. And had a calm day at work. One day after I developed new ideas for how to overcome my lack of ambition... (More to come, naturally.)
And so, I sit on the couch. Crocheting a blanket. Trying to focus on something other than the hammer that is pounding against the back of my left eye.
Single crochet, chain one, single crochet, chain one, single crochet, chain two...
Saturday, September 09, 2006
The No Ambition Tour
I just can't seem to pull myself out of bed in the morning. And I can't seem to escape from my desk in the afternoon. Er, evening, really. I haven't been getting home until well past the start of Prime Time television shows. Good thing the new seasons have yet to start.
I've been away from home weekend after weekend after weekend since... SHIT! I don't even remember the last time I sat on my couch on Saturday morning. And while I still do love to travel, I am realizing that I love it a little bit less these days. Since I have a great apartment and a fabulous roommate and an adorable cat...
I just haven't felt myself lately. I can't focus. On anything. As soon as I give my attention to one project another one starts screaming at me. And quite often I find that I am only half listening to people when they're talking to me. I'm walking into walls and bumping my head on doors. I keep losing my keys. My wallet. My cell phone. My mind...
I feel like I am falling apart.
And I'm pretty sure the only way to fix this feeling is to rest up, eat right, and exercise. But I can barely bring myself to lace up the Asics or roll out the yoga mat. All I want to do at this point is stare at my ceiling.
So that's what I'm going to do... Thus, my ambition-free weekend continues.
I've been away from home weekend after weekend after weekend since... SHIT! I don't even remember the last time I sat on my couch on Saturday morning. And while I still do love to travel, I am realizing that I love it a little bit less these days. Since I have a great apartment and a fabulous roommate and an adorable cat...
I just haven't felt myself lately. I can't focus. On anything. As soon as I give my attention to one project another one starts screaming at me. And quite often I find that I am only half listening to people when they're talking to me. I'm walking into walls and bumping my head on doors. I keep losing my keys. My wallet. My cell phone. My mind...
I feel like I am falling apart.
And I'm pretty sure the only way to fix this feeling is to rest up, eat right, and exercise. But I can barely bring myself to lace up the Asics or roll out the yoga mat. All I want to do at this point is stare at my ceiling.
So that's what I'm going to do... Thus, my ambition-free weekend continues.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
26:37:36
5:00 PM Friday August 25. It was Happy Hour throughout the rest of the West Coast, but for me and my 11 teammates, it was time to get things started.
Hood to Coast 2006:
All teams are required to finish the race by 9:00 PM on Saturday. So I have to admit, getting the late start time was both exciting (hell yeah, we're fast!) and nerve racking (but are we THAT fast?) We only had 28 hours to finish, meaning we had to average 8:30 miles the entire time. Could everyone on the team do that? For three legs? On zero sleep? In the middle of the night?
We'd soon find out. Van #1 blazed down the slopes of Mount Hill and through the first six legs in approximately four and a half hours. So at 9:35 PM, it was time for Van #2 - The San Francisco Contingent - to begin our journey.
Running in the afternoon can be difficult for me, so to say that running at night - er, EARLY morning - is difficult is also an understatement. I ran my first 5.9 mile leg of Hood to Coast form 1:00 AM to 1:50 AM. Sure, I averaged under 8:30 minutes/mile, but it was painful. I think everyone in Van #2 felt that way, too. We finished our legs, but it wasn't always pretty.
So, after meeting up with Van #1 at the exchange, the SF Contingent piled back into Van #2 and headed down the course to the second van exchange. During this time I had the *pleasure* of riding in The Stinky Seat, which not only sucked, it smelled. Needless to say, I did not get much sleep during this rest time. But I'm pretty sure feeling nauseous due to a lack of sleep, a smelly van, and an overdose of Cliff bars is all part of the fun of a distance relay...
Four hours later, it was time to run again. The sun was coming up now, and I must say, Oregon is really quite beautiful. RN, our first runner, had a pretty difficult 6-mile leg. Up up up up up lots of hills in time to pass off to DC, our second runner. He averaged 7 minute miles through most of his legs, and was a great last minute addition to the team. DC endured 6 miles on a dirt road for Leg #20. He passed off to EZ, another 7 minute miler, who killed his leg before SS climbed a mini mountain and picked up 17 road kills for yet another 7 minute mile performance on Leg 22!
The hand-off from SS to KT was just as fast, transferring enough momentum to KT to keep the speedy paces going. KT finished 4 miles for Leg 23 in 30 minutes! An average pace of 7:45 minutes/mile! She was going so fast she almost couldn't stop to do our transition dance. (You laugh, but relays are SO much better with transition dances...) I shouted, "Come on KT - MAKE IT WORK!" To which she replied, "Go Nic! CARRY ON!" (Yes, in our best Tim Gunn voices. Not going to lie, the crowd loved us.) A quick do-si-do and I was off on Leg 24.
It was starting to get warm by now. And although Leg 24 was flat, there wasn't time to slack off in cruise control. I flew out of the transition and onto the long, winding road. It felt good to be running in daylight. The team drove ahead to meet me 2.5 miles into my leg, but I reached them a little less than 20 minutes into the leg. No one saw me. To be frank, they weren't even LOOKING for me yet. I guess they thought I'd be running 8:30s again. Turns out, though, I was running a little faster than 8:00 minute/mile pace. And it felt good. So good. But not good enough to stop for water! I decided to keep going for fear that slowing down would bring me to a standstill.
Instead, I said I'd meet them at the transition, which turned out to be easier said than done. Because by now, there was a bottleneck of vans trying to make it to the van exchange. I passed our van and realized there was a chance I was going to make it to the handoff before they did. And that's almost what happened. Except luckily, SS and RN jumped out of our van and sprinted almost an entire mile to the exchange, just in time to see me finish 4.9 miles in 39 minutes. (With 15 road kills!) Under 8:00 minutes/mile average pace - a PR for Nic, and the start of a very-well deserved rest period for all of Van #2.
Thank goodness. Because by now it was pretty effing HOT. It took a long time to drive to the next van exchange. The traffic was terrible and there were runners everywhere. I don't think I have ever seen so many runners. It's just amazing to think that for two entire days, 200 miles of Oregon was covered in runners.
The heat slowed Van #1 considerably during their final legs, so we had to wait a little longer to run again. This extra time made us realize how tired we were. So by the time we met up with Van #1 at the final exchange, we weren't looking good. But we were so close! And Van #1 was done!!!!! So Van #2 embarked on the final legs of the race. Tackling rolling hills and cruising through well-deserved flats. In a lot of pain but with a lot of heart, everyone blazed through their final legs. Until it was my turn to run Leg 36...
I was nervous at the handoff. I was just so tired. And nervous. And tired. I really HATE being last! For almost 26 hours I had been dreading this final leg. Leg 36 had nearly two miles of climbing at the start. And I just haven't been training very consistently, lately. And I certainly haven't been running too many hills! FUCK! I'm tired! And petrified of that hill!
But eventually, it was time to face the incline. I took off at around 6:58 PM, climbing my first mile up mostly trail. Up! Push! Leap! Spring! I dodged right and left around boulders. I scurried past other runners. I pushed and propelled and forced my way to the front of the pack. Once I reached the road, I didn't quit. I continued to grind out the climb, and I made it to the top of the hill in 16 minutes.
Which meant that it was all downhill from there! Downhill for the fastest, most beautiful mile of my life. Winding right and left and down and right and left and down through the tallest pine trees under the clearest blue sky. Never stopping or slowing, only thinking of that beach. That beach that is only a few more miles away! And before I knew it, a H2C volunteer directed me to turn right and said, "Only a half mile to go!"
"WHAT? ONLY A HALF MILE TO GO?"
My watch read something around 37 minutes.
"HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"
I ran as fast as my little 5'3" body could carry me. I smiled. I cried. I soared. I fucking booked it down that promenade. I high-fived small children. I high-fived their parents. I said hello to doggies. I looked out at that Pacific Ocean and BEAMED with pride and excitement.
And I crossed the Hood to Coast Finish Line at 7:37 PM on Saturday August 26.
And I couldn't remember the last time everything felt so damn good.
Hood to Coast 2006:
- 2 vans.
- 12 runners.
- 36 legs.
- 197 miles from Mount Hood to Seaside, Oregon.
All teams are required to finish the race by 9:00 PM on Saturday. So I have to admit, getting the late start time was both exciting (hell yeah, we're fast!) and nerve racking (but are we THAT fast?) We only had 28 hours to finish, meaning we had to average 8:30 miles the entire time. Could everyone on the team do that? For three legs? On zero sleep? In the middle of the night?
We'd soon find out. Van #1 blazed down the slopes of Mount Hill and through the first six legs in approximately four and a half hours. So at 9:35 PM, it was time for Van #2 - The San Francisco Contingent - to begin our journey.
Running in the afternoon can be difficult for me, so to say that running at night - er, EARLY morning - is difficult is also an understatement. I ran my first 5.9 mile leg of Hood to Coast form 1:00 AM to 1:50 AM. Sure, I averaged under 8:30 minutes/mile, but it was painful. I think everyone in Van #2 felt that way, too. We finished our legs, but it wasn't always pretty.
So, after meeting up with Van #1 at the exchange, the SF Contingent piled back into Van #2 and headed down the course to the second van exchange. During this time I had the *pleasure* of riding in The Stinky Seat, which not only sucked, it smelled. Needless to say, I did not get much sleep during this rest time. But I'm pretty sure feeling nauseous due to a lack of sleep, a smelly van, and an overdose of Cliff bars is all part of the fun of a distance relay...
Four hours later, it was time to run again. The sun was coming up now, and I must say, Oregon is really quite beautiful. RN, our first runner, had a pretty difficult 6-mile leg. Up up up up up lots of hills in time to pass off to DC, our second runner. He averaged 7 minute miles through most of his legs, and was a great last minute addition to the team. DC endured 6 miles on a dirt road for Leg #20. He passed off to EZ, another 7 minute miler, who killed his leg before SS climbed a mini mountain and picked up 17 road kills for yet another 7 minute mile performance on Leg 22!
The hand-off from SS to KT was just as fast, transferring enough momentum to KT to keep the speedy paces going. KT finished 4 miles for Leg 23 in 30 minutes! An average pace of 7:45 minutes/mile! She was going so fast she almost couldn't stop to do our transition dance. (You laugh, but relays are SO much better with transition dances...) I shouted, "Come on KT - MAKE IT WORK!" To which she replied, "Go Nic! CARRY ON!" (Yes, in our best Tim Gunn voices. Not going to lie, the crowd loved us.) A quick do-si-do and I was off on Leg 24.
It was starting to get warm by now. And although Leg 24 was flat, there wasn't time to slack off in cruise control. I flew out of the transition and onto the long, winding road. It felt good to be running in daylight. The team drove ahead to meet me 2.5 miles into my leg, but I reached them a little less than 20 minutes into the leg. No one saw me. To be frank, they weren't even LOOKING for me yet. I guess they thought I'd be running 8:30s again. Turns out, though, I was running a little faster than 8:00 minute/mile pace. And it felt good. So good. But not good enough to stop for water! I decided to keep going for fear that slowing down would bring me to a standstill.
Instead, I said I'd meet them at the transition, which turned out to be easier said than done. Because by now, there was a bottleneck of vans trying to make it to the van exchange. I passed our van and realized there was a chance I was going to make it to the handoff before they did. And that's almost what happened. Except luckily, SS and RN jumped out of our van and sprinted almost an entire mile to the exchange, just in time to see me finish 4.9 miles in 39 minutes. (With 15 road kills!) Under 8:00 minutes/mile average pace - a PR for Nic, and the start of a very-well deserved rest period for all of Van #2.
Thank goodness. Because by now it was pretty effing HOT. It took a long time to drive to the next van exchange. The traffic was terrible and there were runners everywhere. I don't think I have ever seen so many runners. It's just amazing to think that for two entire days, 200 miles of Oregon was covered in runners.
The heat slowed Van #1 considerably during their final legs, so we had to wait a little longer to run again. This extra time made us realize how tired we were. So by the time we met up with Van #1 at the final exchange, we weren't looking good. But we were so close! And Van #1 was done!!!!! So Van #2 embarked on the final legs of the race. Tackling rolling hills and cruising through well-deserved flats. In a lot of pain but with a lot of heart, everyone blazed through their final legs. Until it was my turn to run Leg 36...
I was nervous at the handoff. I was just so tired. And nervous. And tired. I really HATE being last! For almost 26 hours I had been dreading this final leg. Leg 36 had nearly two miles of climbing at the start. And I just haven't been training very consistently, lately. And I certainly haven't been running too many hills! FUCK! I'm tired! And petrified of that hill!
But eventually, it was time to face the incline. I took off at around 6:58 PM, climbing my first mile up mostly trail. Up! Push! Leap! Spring! I dodged right and left around boulders. I scurried past other runners. I pushed and propelled and forced my way to the front of the pack. Once I reached the road, I didn't quit. I continued to grind out the climb, and I made it to the top of the hill in 16 minutes.
Which meant that it was all downhill from there! Downhill for the fastest, most beautiful mile of my life. Winding right and left and down and right and left and down through the tallest pine trees under the clearest blue sky. Never stopping or slowing, only thinking of that beach. That beach that is only a few more miles away! And before I knew it, a H2C volunteer directed me to turn right and said, "Only a half mile to go!"
"WHAT? ONLY A HALF MILE TO GO?"
My watch read something around 37 minutes.
"HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"
I ran as fast as my little 5'3" body could carry me. I smiled. I cried. I soared. I fucking booked it down that promenade. I high-fived small children. I high-fived their parents. I said hello to doggies. I looked out at that Pacific Ocean and BEAMED with pride and excitement.
And I crossed the Hood to Coast Finish Line at 7:37 PM on Saturday August 26.
- Team Total Time - 26:37:36
- Team Overall Place - 257/1032
- Team Overall Percentage - Top 24.9 %
- Team Overall Average Pace - 8:06 minutes / mile
- Leg 12 - 5.9 Miles - 49:45 Total Time - 8:26 min / mile pace
- Leg 24 - 4.9 Miles - 39:15 Total Time - 8:01 min / mile pace
- Leg 36 - 5.8 Miles - 41:29 Total Time - 7:09 min / mile pace
And I couldn't remember the last time everything felt so damn good.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
SOS Please
"Someone help me.
It's not healthy.
For me to feel this way..."
I am still at my desk.
I have a million more pages of documentation to pull together before I'm, "DONE." (Whatever that means.)
I don't expect to sleep tonight.
I am icing my left wrist.
Because I think I have carpal tunnel syndrome.
I have not had a good run in two weeks.
In fact, I have barely run three times the past two weeks.
And to prove it, I have a fucking WORK injury and not a RUNNING injury!
I am running in Hood to Coast on Friday.
Er... Saturday. Our start time is something like 9:00 PM.
And I'm running Legs, 12, 24, and 36.
So I probably won't be running until the wee hours of Saturday morning.
And even though this 195 mile 12 person relay race is supposed to be AWESOME, I just kind of don't want to do it.
Because I'm tired and cranky and stressed and overworked.
And because I'd kind of rather spend the weekend in San Francisco for once...
Oh, I am not ready for this race at all.
So if you thought I was dead, I'm not.
But I likely will be come Saturday evening upon crossing the finish line on the Coast in Oregon.
(HUGE EFFING SIGH)
It's not healthy.
For me to feel this way..."
I am still at my desk.
I have a million more pages of documentation to pull together before I'm, "DONE." (Whatever that means.)
I don't expect to sleep tonight.
I am icing my left wrist.
Because I think I have carpal tunnel syndrome.
I have not had a good run in two weeks.
In fact, I have barely run three times the past two weeks.
And to prove it, I have a fucking WORK injury and not a RUNNING injury!
I am running in Hood to Coast on Friday.
Er... Saturday. Our start time is something like 9:00 PM.
And I'm running Legs, 12, 24, and 36.
So I probably won't be running until the wee hours of Saturday morning.
And even though this 195 mile 12 person relay race is supposed to be AWESOME, I just kind of don't want to do it.
Because I'm tired and cranky and stressed and overworked.
And because I'd kind of rather spend the weekend in San Francisco for once...
Oh, I am not ready for this race at all.
So if you thought I was dead, I'm not.
But I likely will be come Saturday evening upon crossing the finish line on the Coast in Oregon.
(HUGE EFFING SIGH)
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