I have to admit - out of everyone I was going to see this past week, I was the most excited to see him.
The anticipation has been building for some time now, really. Since that bus ride that night in October. After he left for his trip and I realized it was time for me to really start my life here in San Francisco. I was always so happy to hear from him when he was away. And when he got back, he told me how much he appreciated it. Which doesn't sound like much, but for him...
And while I didn't expect anything to happen this past week, I am not surprised that nothing didn't happen.
"There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth..."
Not that it will go anywhere. He's different and it's wonderful. I'm different and I wouldn't have it any other way. There will always be that connection. But behind it, all that baggage. All those pieces of us that though great, don't quite fit together. Without pinching. Even though I really, really, love him. It will never work and by now, I am past wanting it to do so.
"Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt..."
But I feel lucky to have had this week. On top of that weekend. And in front of this relationship. This dysfnunctional friendship-meets-affair somewhere in the middle. Where no matter what it's too much and not enough at the same time. When too little too late intersects with perfect timing because it's always better later than never.
"Still a little hard to say what's going on..."
Starting with our sort of awkward everyone's around us hug hello on Friday. And ending with our should we kiss each other good-bye embrace this morning as we boarded separate trains to separate airports, it was always really, really, good to see him. Because it wasn't always awkward... Even though it didn't always make a whole lot of sense.
"And it's not hard to fall When you float like a cannonball..."
"Cannonball" by Damien Rice. From the album, O.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Boys to Men
Tall. Dark. Handsome. And blonde, yes one of them is blonde. Still handsome, though. And smart. They're all so smart! And interesting, and funny, and caring. Each one planted a big kiss on my cheek - or lips - when we said hello. HELLO! Engulfing me in a long, strong, embrace.
Dressed up in their suits, at a rehearsal dinner in Dubuque, Iowa, they looked good. We have known each other for eight years now. And somewhere between now and the last time we were all together - months and months and months ago - the fact that our friendships are this old is somewhat believable. Because in looking at them now, they do... They look older.
But not one of them has changed.
MJC still steals the spotlight with his stories. And KJS still practices that good-looking scowl in between sips of Scotch that he guzzles like water. NW still quiet and sweet, an interesting conversationalist who can always make me laugh. LR always the manic dreamer with his crazy ideas that make everyone shake their heads. ESB the constant flirt, his grin and raised brow a clear indication that trouble is on the way. And while BAC has settled down, happily, JBB is as antsy as ever, still able to make my heart overflow with love. (But that is the topic of another post...)
No, they haven't really changed. At all. Except for CCE - the groom - and the reason for our congregation this weekend. As MJC said in his toast, CCE was always a "work in progress." The brunt of many jokes over his choice in shoes (white high tops), jeans (acid wash tapered leg), and belt (long and braided), he was always easy on the eyes. And I will probably never forget the first time we met, at the Newcomb Hall dining room. His warm smile and sparkling eyes haven't changed a bit.
But he is no longer thinking someone is out to get him. Or looking for a fight. No longer always in a state of disarray. With Her by his side he stands taller. He is composed. He appears stronger, yet softer.
And if you could have seen him beam as he walked his mother down the aisle, and then waited at the alter - you would have cried, too. No longer the hot guy I met at UVA. That hot guy with whom I shared a few weeks of dance floor kisses and date function dinners. That hot guy who was so understanding when I told him I was getting back together with my boyfriend. Who said he still just wanted to be a part of my life. CCE was - IS - that great guy who meant what he said. He's the guy who wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it. That great guy who made me realize I wanted him to be a part of my life, too. And therefore turned into one of my best friends.
CCE is that guy who eight years later - after laughter and tears and late nights and early mornings and good drunks and bad drunks and heartbreaks and new loves - invites you to his wedding. And because you can't imagine not being there, you go. Despite terrible travel schedules and a destination "at the edge of the world" in Iowa.
You go, and you sit at the dinner. With him and these boys. Who are your closest friends and whom you miss so much. And you cry a little when the slide show plays. And you cry a little during the toasts. You cry when CCE says I do. Because eight years ago, none of you thought about this day. When you would start to REALLY grow up and get married.
But in the back of your mind, you knew this day would come. And you knew that you would share this day with these people. These boys who helped you finish those problem sets. Who proofread your thesis. Who helped you study and shared with you their old tests. Who drove you to the airport to visit your long distance boyfriend. And who let you wipe snot on their shoulder when the boyfriend and you fell apart. Who gave you high fives when other boyfriends came along. Who drank you under the table, and then held your hair when you puked. Who protected you like their little sister.
Four years after graduation, I know that nothing has ended. I can still feel that bond - that bond that so clearly shines through that slideshow picture of everyone at O'Neil's that night in September 2001. Back when we didn't know where we were headed, only with whom we were headed out there. Even if only in spirit, because friendships like these defy physicality. No, the good times aren't over. They're just on the ends of longer weeks and months, now.
Through four years of college and the four years since college ended, my female friendships have strengthened and waned. New bonds have formed in new cities and at new jobs. Some have strengthened through exciting journeys, while others have weakened as the To Do List grew. I love every one of my girlfriends. But my relationships with them are not the same as my relationships with my guy friends. The loyalty I have found in the boys I met in my dorm, in First Year Engineering classes, and at the dining hall is unparalleled. And the love I have developed for them stretches from Charlottesville, through DC and Chicago and Boston and now out to San Francisco despite all logic saying it wouldn't. It is ephemeral.
These boys turned hot guys turned best friends turned big brothers turned other women's husbands turned honest, admirable, good men.
I love them so much it hurts.
Dressed up in their suits, at a rehearsal dinner in Dubuque, Iowa, they looked good. We have known each other for eight years now. And somewhere between now and the last time we were all together - months and months and months ago - the fact that our friendships are this old is somewhat believable. Because in looking at them now, they do... They look older.
But not one of them has changed.
MJC still steals the spotlight with his stories. And KJS still practices that good-looking scowl in between sips of Scotch that he guzzles like water. NW still quiet and sweet, an interesting conversationalist who can always make me laugh. LR always the manic dreamer with his crazy ideas that make everyone shake their heads. ESB the constant flirt, his grin and raised brow a clear indication that trouble is on the way. And while BAC has settled down, happily, JBB is as antsy as ever, still able to make my heart overflow with love. (But that is the topic of another post...)
No, they haven't really changed. At all. Except for CCE - the groom - and the reason for our congregation this weekend. As MJC said in his toast, CCE was always a "work in progress." The brunt of many jokes over his choice in shoes (white high tops), jeans (acid wash tapered leg), and belt (long and braided), he was always easy on the eyes. And I will probably never forget the first time we met, at the Newcomb Hall dining room. His warm smile and sparkling eyes haven't changed a bit.
But he is no longer thinking someone is out to get him. Or looking for a fight. No longer always in a state of disarray. With Her by his side he stands taller. He is composed. He appears stronger, yet softer.
And if you could have seen him beam as he walked his mother down the aisle, and then waited at the alter - you would have cried, too. No longer the hot guy I met at UVA. That hot guy with whom I shared a few weeks of dance floor kisses and date function dinners. That hot guy who was so understanding when I told him I was getting back together with my boyfriend. Who said he still just wanted to be a part of my life. CCE was - IS - that great guy who meant what he said. He's the guy who wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it. That great guy who made me realize I wanted him to be a part of my life, too. And therefore turned into one of my best friends.
CCE is that guy who eight years later - after laughter and tears and late nights and early mornings and good drunks and bad drunks and heartbreaks and new loves - invites you to his wedding. And because you can't imagine not being there, you go. Despite terrible travel schedules and a destination "at the edge of the world" in Iowa.
You go, and you sit at the dinner. With him and these boys. Who are your closest friends and whom you miss so much. And you cry a little when the slide show plays. And you cry a little during the toasts. You cry when CCE says I do. Because eight years ago, none of you thought about this day. When you would start to REALLY grow up and get married.
But in the back of your mind, you knew this day would come. And you knew that you would share this day with these people. These boys who helped you finish those problem sets. Who proofread your thesis. Who helped you study and shared with you their old tests. Who drove you to the airport to visit your long distance boyfriend. And who let you wipe snot on their shoulder when the boyfriend and you fell apart. Who gave you high fives when other boyfriends came along. Who drank you under the table, and then held your hair when you puked. Who protected you like their little sister.
Four years after graduation, I know that nothing has ended. I can still feel that bond - that bond that so clearly shines through that slideshow picture of everyone at O'Neil's that night in September 2001. Back when we didn't know where we were headed, only with whom we were headed out there. Even if only in spirit, because friendships like these defy physicality. No, the good times aren't over. They're just on the ends of longer weeks and months, now.
Through four years of college and the four years since college ended, my female friendships have strengthened and waned. New bonds have formed in new cities and at new jobs. Some have strengthened through exciting journeys, while others have weakened as the To Do List grew. I love every one of my girlfriends. But my relationships with them are not the same as my relationships with my guy friends. The loyalty I have found in the boys I met in my dorm, in First Year Engineering classes, and at the dining hall is unparalleled. And the love I have developed for them stretches from Charlottesville, through DC and Chicago and Boston and now out to San Francisco despite all logic saying it wouldn't. It is ephemeral.
These boys turned hot guys turned best friends turned big brothers turned other women's husbands turned honest, admirable, good men.
I love them so much it hurts.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Where in the world is...
...Nic? Where in the world is Nic?
Well let's see... According to the Outlook Calendar - and really, what else DOES one consult to figure out who one needs to see, what one needs to hurry up and finish, where one needs to go, when one needs to take one's medicine, why one needs to break down and buy a Crackberry already...
Yeah, so according to the Outlook Calendar:
24 JUN 06 - Board plane to Philadelphia. At the same time as Family who was visiting in San Francisco. But on a different airline. Because wasn't eight days enough? Eight days plus a couple more? At the house in which you grew up? Isn't that 25% more? FREE! Did the family even have a coupon?
25 JUN 06 - Drive to Plymouth Meeting, PA. Because who wants to drive on the PA Turnpike at 5:00 a.m. from Parents' house to Monday morning meeting when a King Sized bed and a warm cookie await your arrival at The Doubletree?
26 JUN 06 - Drive to Swiftwater, PA. Because that's where your FRENCH client decided to set-up some offices. And they're having a meeting, and they want you to attend...
27 JUN 06 - Back to Plymouth Meeting for a few more meetings before trying to get home to San Francisco. After sitting on the runway for 2 hours, then being re-directed in flight, Driving on the 101 never felt so good.
28 JUN 06 - Arrive in Evanston, IL! To visit the fantastic LGA. OK, by the time the plane touched down at 12:32 a.m. it was 29 JUN 06, but if the airlines aren't going to balk about a seven minute late arrival, I won't be picky.
30 JUN 06 - Arrive in Dubuque, IA! Yes, Iowa - another new state for Nic! Because some people ARE in fact from Iowa. These people may have moved to Chicago, but they still want to get married in EFFING IOWA. Much to the inconvenience of all the guests in attendance...
02 JUL 06 - Back to Chicago. For the third time in three months. This time should be more fun than the past two times, though. Because it's for fun and not work!
05 JUL 06 - Back to San Francisco. For four blissful days of sleeping in my own bed. While I'm there I plan to drink (soy) milk out of the carton while standing in front of the fridge with the door wide open. I so miss refridgerators while spending so many nights in hotels...
09 JUL 06 - Board plane to St. Petersburg, FL via Denver and Tampa. For week-long meeting sponsored by French client. Because a company that builds an office in Swiftwater, PA also thinks it's a great idea to have a meeting in Florida in July. For a week. (??????????????)
14 JUL 06 - Board plane to... drum roll... CHICAGO. Again. For the fourth time in three months. This time will NOT be more fun than the past three times. Because it's for work. Again.
15 JUL 06 - Board plane to... drum roll... BIG DRUM ROLL... CYMBALS! Yes, I want to hear CYMBALS. Because, finally, FINALLY, on 15 JUL 06 I will get off a plane in San Francisco. I will hop on a shuttle to Nob Hill. I will drop off my bags, then walk to the corner store. I will purchase copious amounts of (soy) milk. I will bring it home, and I will put it in the fridge. Only to immediately take it out and drink every last beautiful drop from the carton.
Well let's see... According to the Outlook Calendar - and really, what else DOES one consult to figure out who one needs to see, what one needs to hurry up and finish, where one needs to go, when one needs to take one's medicine, why one needs to break down and buy a Crackberry already...
Yeah, so according to the Outlook Calendar:
24 JUN 06 - Board plane to Philadelphia. At the same time as Family who was visiting in San Francisco. But on a different airline. Because wasn't eight days enough? Eight days plus a couple more? At the house in which you grew up? Isn't that 25% more? FREE! Did the family even have a coupon?
25 JUN 06 - Drive to Plymouth Meeting, PA. Because who wants to drive on the PA Turnpike at 5:00 a.m. from Parents' house to Monday morning meeting when a King Sized bed and a warm cookie await your arrival at The Doubletree?
26 JUN 06 - Drive to Swiftwater, PA. Because that's where your FRENCH client decided to set-up some offices. And they're having a meeting, and they want you to attend...
27 JUN 06 - Back to Plymouth Meeting for a few more meetings before trying to get home to San Francisco. After sitting on the runway for 2 hours, then being re-directed in flight, Driving on the 101 never felt so good.
28 JUN 06 - Arrive in Evanston, IL! To visit the fantastic LGA. OK, by the time the plane touched down at 12:32 a.m. it was 29 JUN 06, but if the airlines aren't going to balk about a seven minute late arrival, I won't be picky.
30 JUN 06 - Arrive in Dubuque, IA! Yes, Iowa - another new state for Nic! Because some people ARE in fact from Iowa. These people may have moved to Chicago, but they still want to get married in EFFING IOWA. Much to the inconvenience of all the guests in attendance...
02 JUL 06 - Back to Chicago. For the third time in three months. This time should be more fun than the past two times, though. Because it's for fun and not work!
05 JUL 06 - Back to San Francisco. For four blissful days of sleeping in my own bed. While I'm there I plan to drink (soy) milk out of the carton while standing in front of the fridge with the door wide open. I so miss refridgerators while spending so many nights in hotels...
09 JUL 06 - Board plane to St. Petersburg, FL via Denver and Tampa. For week-long meeting sponsored by French client. Because a company that builds an office in Swiftwater, PA also thinks it's a great idea to have a meeting in Florida in July. For a week. (??????????????)
14 JUL 06 - Board plane to... drum roll... CHICAGO. Again. For the fourth time in three months. This time will NOT be more fun than the past three times. Because it's for work. Again.
15 JUL 06 - Board plane to... drum roll... BIG DRUM ROLL... CYMBALS! Yes, I want to hear CYMBALS. Because, finally, FINALLY, on 15 JUL 06 I will get off a plane in San Francisco. I will hop on a shuttle to Nob Hill. I will drop off my bags, then walk to the corner store. I will purchase copious amounts of (soy) milk. I will bring it home, and I will put it in the fridge. Only to immediately take it out and drink every last beautiful drop from the carton.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Family Ties
They are the ties that bind. And the ties that kept us together this past week, herding us through San Francisco. Up and down and up and down... Riding the emotional roller coaster that being a part of this family mandates.
After finally finding a place to park last Friday, these Family Ties looped us down the crooked Lombard Street for a few quick pictures before cocktails and homemade guacamole on my roof, for sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge. They induced story-telling with my roommates of Nic as a little kid, and festive imbibing of single malts and California wine into the wee (well, on the East Coast...) hours. And Family Ties that when Brother started to shake and shimmy out at bars, proved that dancing really does run in the family.
The Family Ties rappelled us down from Nob Hill and into Fisherman's Wharf on Saturday, for Boudin sourdough breadbowls and touristing along Pier 39. Then over to Fort Miley for a friend's BBQ and beautiful scenery of Ocean Beach and the Golden Gate Bridge, and back to Polk Street for a light dinner at a local spot on Polk Street.
Family Ties that gathered us Sunday morning for brunch in Mill Valley at The Dipsea Cafe before an afternoon in Napa. Celebrating Father's Day like a family with grown-up children should - with flights and pours at some of the best wineries in the country. And family ties that brought us together for Ferry Building lunches and Embarcadero explorations to celebrate a 30th wedding anniversary and a semi-second honeymoon on Monday June 19. Onto dinner at the Mission Hot-spot Delfina - compliments of Nic.
On Tuesday, they assembled us at the pier for a cruise to Alcatraz, and kept us from getting left in The Hole. Ties that reconvened us on Wednesday and Thursday in North Beach for fusion dining after days of travel to Muir Woods and Sausalito, Monterey and Carmel, the Presidio Golf Course and Half Moon Bay, as well as too many hours at the office for Nic.
They are ties that occasionally were a little tight and constricting. Ties that made it hard to breathe and smile. Ties that every now and then this past week, would have made a pretty good noose. OK, maybe just a bullwhip would have sufficed.
But Family Ties that keep us from slipping away from each other despite physical and emotional distance. That keep us happily dis-functioning with the best of them. For I am my father's daughter, and Brother is his mother's son. And though I sometimes contemplate how they ever got together in the first place, let alone survived thirty years of marriage, I am glad we're the herd that we are.
Because these Family Ties will always keep us connected, and pulled taught from PA to CA and back, with many more visits to come.
After finally finding a place to park last Friday, these Family Ties looped us down the crooked Lombard Street for a few quick pictures before cocktails and homemade guacamole on my roof, for sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge. They induced story-telling with my roommates of Nic as a little kid, and festive imbibing of single malts and California wine into the wee (well, on the East Coast...) hours. And Family Ties that when Brother started to shake and shimmy out at bars, proved that dancing really does run in the family.
The Family Ties rappelled us down from Nob Hill and into Fisherman's Wharf on Saturday, for Boudin sourdough breadbowls and touristing along Pier 39. Then over to Fort Miley for a friend's BBQ and beautiful scenery of Ocean Beach and the Golden Gate Bridge, and back to Polk Street for a light dinner at a local spot on Polk Street.
Family Ties that gathered us Sunday morning for brunch in Mill Valley at The Dipsea Cafe before an afternoon in Napa. Celebrating Father's Day like a family with grown-up children should - with flights and pours at some of the best wineries in the country. And family ties that brought us together for Ferry Building lunches and Embarcadero explorations to celebrate a 30th wedding anniversary and a semi-second honeymoon on Monday June 19. Onto dinner at the Mission Hot-spot Delfina - compliments of Nic.
On Tuesday, they assembled us at the pier for a cruise to Alcatraz, and kept us from getting left in The Hole. Ties that reconvened us on Wednesday and Thursday in North Beach for fusion dining after days of travel to Muir Woods and Sausalito, Monterey and Carmel, the Presidio Golf Course and Half Moon Bay, as well as too many hours at the office for Nic.
They are ties that occasionally were a little tight and constricting. Ties that made it hard to breathe and smile. Ties that every now and then this past week, would have made a pretty good noose. OK, maybe just a bullwhip would have sufficed.
But Family Ties that keep us from slipping away from each other despite physical and emotional distance. That keep us happily dis-functioning with the best of them. For I am my father's daughter, and Brother is his mother's son. And though I sometimes contemplate how they ever got together in the first place, let alone survived thirty years of marriage, I am glad we're the herd that we are.
Because these Family Ties will always keep us connected, and pulled taught from PA to CA and back, with many more visits to come.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Meet the Parents
Dad, Mom, and Brother are in San Francisco!
...For EIGHT days.
Close your eyes. OK, in through the nose - hold it at the top. And now, exhale slowly. (Repeat.)
Yeah, we're past cleansing breaths at this point. Maybe I need a long run. Or a stiff drink. Or a lot of drugs. Maybe all three? Or perhaps I just need a healthy dose of patience. I wonder if they sell patience at the corner store? Do you think it comes in easy to swallow gel caps?
One day down, seven more to go. Of Forced Famliy Fun at its San Francisco FINEST.
Alcohol will probably be really helpful, though. Good thing we're going to Napa tomorrow!
...For EIGHT days.
Close your eyes. OK, in through the nose - hold it at the top. And now, exhale slowly. (Repeat.)
Yeah, we're past cleansing breaths at this point. Maybe I need a long run. Or a stiff drink. Or a lot of drugs. Maybe all three? Or perhaps I just need a healthy dose of patience. I wonder if they sell patience at the corner store? Do you think it comes in easy to swallow gel caps?
One day down, seven more to go. Of Forced Famliy Fun at its San Francisco FINEST.
Alcohol will probably be really helpful, though. Good thing we're going to Napa tomorrow!
Sunday, June 11, 2006
A Bunch of Lollygaggers
It was around Mile 11 when I heard myself say - to myself - because I was all alone again at that point, "Running is fucking bullshit. We are officially DONE with the running."
It was Leg #4 of the Lake Tahoe Relay. I had just seen my teammates around Mile 10.5-ish. And I had just twisted my ankle in a pot hole. I had just fallen to the ground, then tried to stand up, and then saw stars and blackness cloud my vision. From standing up too fast. Or from needing water. Or from running too much. Or from all three. I had just started to whimper to my roommate, JWC, that I didn't know how I was going to keep going for two more miles. I had taken her hand in mine, and squeezed it with all the energy I had at that moment.
"Nic, you are doing SOOO great. I will walk it with you, if you want. You're almost done!" (JWC has the most calming, reassuring voice.) "No, I just need to calm down. I need to just get a grip, and calm down. I'll... I'll be fine. See you in a couple of miles," I said, as I took off again. Up yet another hill. It was absolutely GORGEOUS. But it wasn't pretty.
The seven of us, plus our driver, were up by 6:00 a.m. feasting on peanut butter and bananas on wheat toast plus sides of oatmeal. We piled into our very own Silver Bullet (the minivan rental) and headed to the race start. 100 teams gathered around the 2006 DeCelle Memorial Start/Finish line.
At 7:00 a.m. JT ("Double Booked!") was off on Leg #1 as the team piled into Silver Bullet to get coffee and cheer on JT around Mile 3. JT was great. We had only picked him up off a UC Berkeley Hiking Message board on Friday night when one of our runners had to bail. He didn't know anyone else who was going to be on the trip and he came anyway, because he had never seen Lake Tahoe and was moving to Ithaca, NY in a few short weeks. What a great way to see Lake Tahoe for the first time!
JT ran a great leg and put A Bunch of Lollygaggers off to a great start. TN ("Photoshop!) picked up where JT left off to begin Leg #2 - Zephyr Cove. TN is likely the best runner of the crew - ran a 3:45 this year at Big Sur - his first marathon ever! - so he agreed to run one of the hardest legs of the race. It was only 8.2 miles, but it ascended 800 feet. TN didn't disappoint, averaging 8:30/miles MAX. At elevation, nonetheless, all after barely running for 5 weeks to overcome a sprained ankle. TN is my hero.
After making it to the top of the hill, it was time for roommie JWC ("Snorting is HOT!") to run Leg #3 - Spooner Summit. 10.3 miles of mostly downhill, this leg was gorgeous, but warm. JWC was a little nervous because she didn't spend much time training. But I'm so impressed! She also averaged slightly over 8:30s during her leg, even hopping the guard rail to run some trails in a construction zone!
Up next was Leg #4 - Highway 28 & Lakeshore. A 12.3 mile stretch along the intersection of Highway 28 and Lakeshore Drive, though Incline Village. Rolling hills and HOT weather. TN waited with me at the start as the rest of the team drove the Silver Bullet to pick up others who stayed back to pass JWC water at her 8 Mile mark. I was nervous before my leg began. I hadn't run more than the two blocks from my apartment to my car to make sure I wasn't in a Street Cleaning Zone Friday morning. My legs weren't 100% and I wasn't supposed to run this leg, but with the last minute changes to A Bunch of Lollygaggers, I sucked it up.
I got off to a good start, taking the slight incline in stride (haha) and enjoying the downhills. I focused my efforts on breathing deeply and running slowly. I used to think running the hills of San Francisco was tough, but running at 6300 feet above sea level really puts the Presidio hills into perspective. I was breathing deeply, but oxygen just wasn't getting into my lungs, much less my bloodstream. I rememberd TN telling me it would take a couple miles to get used to the air, though, so I remained calm. I passed a runner and tried to just enjoy the pace. It was difficult. Luckily, enjoying the scenery was much easier.
Pre-race, I hadn't spent much time reviewing my route. Nor have I spent any time in Lake Tahoe. So it was difficult to run this course. I tried to treat it like a recovery run, and just take things easily and slowly, but it's so hard to hold back during a race. I saw the team around two miles into my leg, drank some water, and absorbed as many "YOU LOOK GOOD!"s from the Lollygaggers as possible. It was time to enjoy the last (small) flat stretch I'd see for a while.
The climb started at Mile 4, 6325 feet above sea level. Now, I thought my big hill was at the end of my leg because when I checked the route map, I kind of reversed the directions in my head. The map was laid out West to East insted of East to West, and I thought the upgrade at Mile 4 was just a small one. So I pushed, telling myself the faster I got up this hill the sooner I'd be able to enjoy the descent back to the bottom. Only problem was that the little hill I thought I was running was the main (BIG) hill of my leg. It was torture. My hamstrings, which hadn't hurt me at all since San Diego, were aching. And I was nervous that I was going to cramp up, so I was afraid to walk.
I thought I had slowed my pace, but by the time I saw the Lollygaggers again at Mile 6.2, I learned that I had been running for 54 minutes. And I had already gone up and over the worst incline of my leg. But 6.2 was only my halfway point - I still had a ways to go. So after sucking down some Gu from KT - who encouraged me by saying I had really put some distance between myself and the teams behind us - I was off again, enjoying the flat road, the mountains ahead, and the beautiful lake to my right.
I saw everyone again around Mile 8. I was tired, and much to my dismay, I still wasn't breathing as well as I would have like to have been breathing. Given that I was 8 miles into my leg and that I still had 4.3 more miles to go. But I kept going, and I actually got to RUN across the California state line from the Nevada side of the lake back into California. An amazing moment for me...
I was feeling great for the next two miles. But as I again approached the Lollygaggers for my final water stop, I twisted my ankle. I fell down to the ground, then tried to stand up, but did so a little too quickly. I saw stars. And fog. And little birdies. I sat down to let the haze subside, drank some water, and tried to walk it off. The pain in my ankle had left, but the dizziness hadn't, and I wasn't sure how I was going to keep going. I did NOT want to run feeling like this.
So I started to cry. And as I've explained before, one cannot run, cry, and breathe at the same time. One HAS to pick two of the three. I held JWC's hand, because for a brief moment, I had decided to pick crying and breathing. When that wasn't getting me anywhere, though, I knew I had to pick running and breating, as running and crying would not allow me to breathe at all, and it was too gorgeous of a day to give up breathing. I inhaled - as much as I could so that I could grab onto as much oxygen as possible - and I let go of JWC's hand. I planted one foot in front of the other, and I didn't stop.
I told myself I could stop running forever after this race was done. I told myself that I could take yoga and spinning. That I could lie on my couch and watch television. That I could drink copious amounts of red wine... But that I had to finish this leg. For my team and for myself. And so I again climbed a hill. Which I promptly ran back down. The Lollygaggers, fearing my emotional state at mile 10.5, had stopped again at mile 11.5. Upon seeing them, my spirits soared. I danced by, gave thumbs up, took some water, and thanked JWC for making the extra stop. One last, "YOU LOOK GOOD!" and I was off again with barely a mile to go.
The next time I saw JWC my heart almost sank. I though I only had a mile to go? Why was she standing on the road again? "The finish is just ahead!" She yelled and smiled and pointed to KT, who was waiting for me at the pass-off. At that moment, I did see the flags. So I started to sprint. I heard the crowd say, "WOW, look how fast she's going!" and I sprinted harder. I slapped KT's hand one hour and 50 minutes after I started my leg. 12.3 miles with a 200 ft hill done at 6300 feet of elevation, at 8:57 average pace.
I was so happy to be done. But there wasn't much time to Lollygag. KT ("Dosen't everyone get turned on by efficiency?") didn't have an easy leg, either. Leg #5 - Cedar Flats was anything but flat. The hill started right away, which made KT a little cranky. "I can't believe you're trying to give me water on a HILL!" Uh, sorry, KT. We just thought you'd be thirsty... But she did a great job. Finishing her 10.5 miles in about 9:00 minute/mile pace, too. Breezing into the pass-off to tap KR ("Hot Legs") and send him off on Leg #6 - Homewood Ski.
Poor, KR. Leg #6 didn't look THAT bad on the map. Oh, but it was bad. Because it was really hot by the time we had reached this part of the map. And while everyone else had some really bad uphills, we also had some really sweet downhills. Not Leg #6. Leg #6 was relentless. But KR pressed through. While the Lollygaggers played Catch Phrase on the side of the road, KR climbed hill after hill. We fed him water, Gatorade, and Gu. We danced for him. And we cheered. And finally, after one hour and fourty five minutes, KR tapped EC ("I like large men and swords") to bring us home.
Leg #7 - Emerald Bay was without a doubt the most scenic leg of the race. Through the Bliss Park chain control zone. With the gentle rolling hills to finish, save one minor uphill struggle. In fact, the view from Leg #7 was so inspiring that even our driver, AH, who had carted us all over Lake Tahoe in the Silver Bullet all day, decided to stretch his legs and join in for some of the run. EC was smokin' fast throughout this leg, even through the Heart of the Forest Renaissance Fair. But I guess that if I saw a bunch of large men carrying swords in the forest in Lake Tahoe, I'd also run like the wind. No matter how tired I was!
We cheered EC on at miles 3, 6, and 9 of his leg, before heading back to the finish line to await for his return. Tired after a long day, we staggered from the Silver Bullet to the finish chute. It was 6:55 PM. Ten hours and 55 minutes after we started. Oh, EC! Hurry up! We can break 11 hours! We only had to endure the suspense for a few minutes, as EC turned the final corner to sprint through the Finish Line at 6:58 PM. Meaning that yes, even A Bunch of Lollygaggers can run 72 miles around Lake Tahoe, at 6300 feet or more above sea level, in under 11 hours. That's 9:08 minutes/mile, on average - enough for finishing in the top 50! (I think #45...)
Of course, now that it's over, I can't wait to race again. Which means that I am NOT "done" with running. If anything, I am more geared up to start training again. And I mean REALLY training. Up hills. And at elevation. With weights. And in pools. And on bikes. And on trails. And obviously, on long stretches of open road. Where I can think and push and breathe and soar and smile and sprint and run far and away and into the great, wide, open. How else can we expect to break ten hours next year?
Don't delay - LOLLYGAG!
It was Leg #4 of the Lake Tahoe Relay. I had just seen my teammates around Mile 10.5-ish. And I had just twisted my ankle in a pot hole. I had just fallen to the ground, then tried to stand up, and then saw stars and blackness cloud my vision. From standing up too fast. Or from needing water. Or from running too much. Or from all three. I had just started to whimper to my roommate, JWC, that I didn't know how I was going to keep going for two more miles. I had taken her hand in mine, and squeezed it with all the energy I had at that moment.
"Nic, you are doing SOOO great. I will walk it with you, if you want. You're almost done!" (JWC has the most calming, reassuring voice.) "No, I just need to calm down. I need to just get a grip, and calm down. I'll... I'll be fine. See you in a couple of miles," I said, as I took off again. Up yet another hill. It was absolutely GORGEOUS. But it wasn't pretty.
The seven of us, plus our driver, were up by 6:00 a.m. feasting on peanut butter and bananas on wheat toast plus sides of oatmeal. We piled into our very own Silver Bullet (the minivan rental) and headed to the race start. 100 teams gathered around the 2006 DeCelle Memorial Start/Finish line.
At 7:00 a.m. JT ("Double Booked!") was off on Leg #1 as the team piled into Silver Bullet to get coffee and cheer on JT around Mile 3. JT was great. We had only picked him up off a UC Berkeley Hiking Message board on Friday night when one of our runners had to bail. He didn't know anyone else who was going to be on the trip and he came anyway, because he had never seen Lake Tahoe and was moving to Ithaca, NY in a few short weeks. What a great way to see Lake Tahoe for the first time!
JT ran a great leg and put A Bunch of Lollygaggers off to a great start. TN ("Photoshop!) picked up where JT left off to begin Leg #2 - Zephyr Cove. TN is likely the best runner of the crew - ran a 3:45 this year at Big Sur - his first marathon ever! - so he agreed to run one of the hardest legs of the race. It was only 8.2 miles, but it ascended 800 feet. TN didn't disappoint, averaging 8:30/miles MAX. At elevation, nonetheless, all after barely running for 5 weeks to overcome a sprained ankle. TN is my hero.
After making it to the top of the hill, it was time for roommie JWC ("Snorting is HOT!") to run Leg #3 - Spooner Summit. 10.3 miles of mostly downhill, this leg was gorgeous, but warm. JWC was a little nervous because she didn't spend much time training. But I'm so impressed! She also averaged slightly over 8:30s during her leg, even hopping the guard rail to run some trails in a construction zone!
Up next was Leg #4 - Highway 28 & Lakeshore. A 12.3 mile stretch along the intersection of Highway 28 and Lakeshore Drive, though Incline Village. Rolling hills and HOT weather. TN waited with me at the start as the rest of the team drove the Silver Bullet to pick up others who stayed back to pass JWC water at her 8 Mile mark. I was nervous before my leg began. I hadn't run more than the two blocks from my apartment to my car to make sure I wasn't in a Street Cleaning Zone Friday morning. My legs weren't 100% and I wasn't supposed to run this leg, but with the last minute changes to A Bunch of Lollygaggers, I sucked it up.
I got off to a good start, taking the slight incline in stride (haha) and enjoying the downhills. I focused my efforts on breathing deeply and running slowly. I used to think running the hills of San Francisco was tough, but running at 6300 feet above sea level really puts the Presidio hills into perspective. I was breathing deeply, but oxygen just wasn't getting into my lungs, much less my bloodstream. I rememberd TN telling me it would take a couple miles to get used to the air, though, so I remained calm. I passed a runner and tried to just enjoy the pace. It was difficult. Luckily, enjoying the scenery was much easier.
Pre-race, I hadn't spent much time reviewing my route. Nor have I spent any time in Lake Tahoe. So it was difficult to run this course. I tried to treat it like a recovery run, and just take things easily and slowly, but it's so hard to hold back during a race. I saw the team around two miles into my leg, drank some water, and absorbed as many "YOU LOOK GOOD!"s from the Lollygaggers as possible. It was time to enjoy the last (small) flat stretch I'd see for a while.
The climb started at Mile 4, 6325 feet above sea level. Now, I thought my big hill was at the end of my leg because when I checked the route map, I kind of reversed the directions in my head. The map was laid out West to East insted of East to West, and I thought the upgrade at Mile 4 was just a small one. So I pushed, telling myself the faster I got up this hill the sooner I'd be able to enjoy the descent back to the bottom. Only problem was that the little hill I thought I was running was the main (BIG) hill of my leg. It was torture. My hamstrings, which hadn't hurt me at all since San Diego, were aching. And I was nervous that I was going to cramp up, so I was afraid to walk.
I thought I had slowed my pace, but by the time I saw the Lollygaggers again at Mile 6.2, I learned that I had been running for 54 minutes. And I had already gone up and over the worst incline of my leg. But 6.2 was only my halfway point - I still had a ways to go. So after sucking down some Gu from KT - who encouraged me by saying I had really put some distance between myself and the teams behind us - I was off again, enjoying the flat road, the mountains ahead, and the beautiful lake to my right.
I saw everyone again around Mile 8. I was tired, and much to my dismay, I still wasn't breathing as well as I would have like to have been breathing. Given that I was 8 miles into my leg and that I still had 4.3 more miles to go. But I kept going, and I actually got to RUN across the California state line from the Nevada side of the lake back into California. An amazing moment for me...
I was feeling great for the next two miles. But as I again approached the Lollygaggers for my final water stop, I twisted my ankle. I fell down to the ground, then tried to stand up, but did so a little too quickly. I saw stars. And fog. And little birdies. I sat down to let the haze subside, drank some water, and tried to walk it off. The pain in my ankle had left, but the dizziness hadn't, and I wasn't sure how I was going to keep going. I did NOT want to run feeling like this.
So I started to cry. And as I've explained before, one cannot run, cry, and breathe at the same time. One HAS to pick two of the three. I held JWC's hand, because for a brief moment, I had decided to pick crying and breathing. When that wasn't getting me anywhere, though, I knew I had to pick running and breating, as running and crying would not allow me to breathe at all, and it was too gorgeous of a day to give up breathing. I inhaled - as much as I could so that I could grab onto as much oxygen as possible - and I let go of JWC's hand. I planted one foot in front of the other, and I didn't stop.
I told myself I could stop running forever after this race was done. I told myself that I could take yoga and spinning. That I could lie on my couch and watch television. That I could drink copious amounts of red wine... But that I had to finish this leg. For my team and for myself. And so I again climbed a hill. Which I promptly ran back down. The Lollygaggers, fearing my emotional state at mile 10.5, had stopped again at mile 11.5. Upon seeing them, my spirits soared. I danced by, gave thumbs up, took some water, and thanked JWC for making the extra stop. One last, "YOU LOOK GOOD!" and I was off again with barely a mile to go.
The next time I saw JWC my heart almost sank. I though I only had a mile to go? Why was she standing on the road again? "The finish is just ahead!" She yelled and smiled and pointed to KT, who was waiting for me at the pass-off. At that moment, I did see the flags. So I started to sprint. I heard the crowd say, "WOW, look how fast she's going!" and I sprinted harder. I slapped KT's hand one hour and 50 minutes after I started my leg. 12.3 miles with a 200 ft hill done at 6300 feet of elevation, at 8:57 average pace.
I was so happy to be done. But there wasn't much time to Lollygag. KT ("Dosen't everyone get turned on by efficiency?") didn't have an easy leg, either. Leg #5 - Cedar Flats was anything but flat. The hill started right away, which made KT a little cranky. "I can't believe you're trying to give me water on a HILL!" Uh, sorry, KT. We just thought you'd be thirsty... But she did a great job. Finishing her 10.5 miles in about 9:00 minute/mile pace, too. Breezing into the pass-off to tap KR ("Hot Legs") and send him off on Leg #6 - Homewood Ski.
Poor, KR. Leg #6 didn't look THAT bad on the map. Oh, but it was bad. Because it was really hot by the time we had reached this part of the map. And while everyone else had some really bad uphills, we also had some really sweet downhills. Not Leg #6. Leg #6 was relentless. But KR pressed through. While the Lollygaggers played Catch Phrase on the side of the road, KR climbed hill after hill. We fed him water, Gatorade, and Gu. We danced for him. And we cheered. And finally, after one hour and fourty five minutes, KR tapped EC ("I like large men and swords") to bring us home.
Leg #7 - Emerald Bay was without a doubt the most scenic leg of the race. Through the Bliss Park chain control zone. With the gentle rolling hills to finish, save one minor uphill struggle. In fact, the view from Leg #7 was so inspiring that even our driver, AH, who had carted us all over Lake Tahoe in the Silver Bullet all day, decided to stretch his legs and join in for some of the run. EC was smokin' fast throughout this leg, even through the Heart of the Forest Renaissance Fair. But I guess that if I saw a bunch of large men carrying swords in the forest in Lake Tahoe, I'd also run like the wind. No matter how tired I was!
We cheered EC on at miles 3, 6, and 9 of his leg, before heading back to the finish line to await for his return. Tired after a long day, we staggered from the Silver Bullet to the finish chute. It was 6:55 PM. Ten hours and 55 minutes after we started. Oh, EC! Hurry up! We can break 11 hours! We only had to endure the suspense for a few minutes, as EC turned the final corner to sprint through the Finish Line at 6:58 PM. Meaning that yes, even A Bunch of Lollygaggers can run 72 miles around Lake Tahoe, at 6300 feet or more above sea level, in under 11 hours. That's 9:08 minutes/mile, on average - enough for finishing in the top 50! (I think #45...)
Of course, now that it's over, I can't wait to race again. Which means that I am NOT "done" with running. If anything, I am more geared up to start training again. And I mean REALLY training. Up hills. And at elevation. With weights. And in pools. And on bikes. And on trails. And obviously, on long stretches of open road. Where I can think and push and breathe and soar and smile and sprint and run far and away and into the great, wide, open. How else can we expect to break ten hours next year?
Don't delay - LOLLYGAG!
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Spinning My Wheels
Since I could walk down the hills of San Francisco today at the pace of a regular 26 year old, I decided it was time. To again don a sports bra. And a little spandex. To lace up my Asics, and pull my hair up in a ponytail. And boldly go where so many in this city go every day... THE GYM.
So I met AR at our nearest Crunch and we took a spinning class. Well, sort of. AR actively participated in the class from beginning to end. I pretty much sat on my bike and peddled with intent every now and then. I didn't sprint all out, nor did I pile on the resistance. I just wanted to get the blood flowing in my legs again. They've been feeling like dead weight since Monday evening.
But, it seems that 60 minutes on the bike also got the blood flowing to my brain, again, too. Four days without a run and I feel like I haven't had any time to just THINK.
Thursday 6:30 PM spin is a pretty good class. The instructor is hella ripped. He's also German, and since I'm pretty obsessed with accents, I can quickly get lost in his voice. So I tune out everything else, and just listen to his commands. I spend the entire class zoned out but deep in thought.
Thinking... (Position 1) About what I want to buy at the grocery store. (Position 2) Grocery store my ass. I want to go shopping at Nordstrom's. (Position 1) About whether or not I REALLY like my job. (Position 3) And about how I'm going to remedy my answer to that question. (Position 2) About my quadriceps, which are feeling a little sore right now. (Position 1) About apartments. And parking spaces. And down payments. (Position 3) About my butt. And about how it looks in my jeans. The jeans that I'm going to wear on Sunday. Oh, Sunday. I cannot WAIT for Sunday. (Position 3 - STILL) Are you effing kidding me? HURRY UP, Sunday! HURRY UP and get here! My butt is just FINE as is!
While cycling away, I also spent some time thinking about - of all things - cycling. I think I want a bike, sometimes. Yeah, it's turning into pretty much all the time. But I don't know how I feel about wearing THAT much spandex. Cyclists wear a lot of spandex... If I'm going to wear all that spandex, I'm probably going to have to get into the effing pool, at some point. Or at least back to regular weight training. Mabye I'll get a trainer? They're kind of expensive and likely not worth the money, though... But how much would I really pay for cut triceps? Hmm... Not as much as I would pay for six pack abs. OOOH! Bikram! I haven't been to Bikram in a while. I could DEFINITELY go for some Bikram. Right now. And a salad with avocado. I am hungry.
And for the rest of the class I can only think about food. But I welcome the hunger. I haven't been very hungry since the Powerade incident.
This hour on the bike has brought life back to my legs. Which is good. I'll be needing them again, very soon . And these sixty minutes of spinning have also provided me time for uninterrupted thought. My brain is coming back to life. Which is also good. 60 minutes of spinning my wheel and I'm feeling pretty damn SMART again.
And I'm getting all kinds of crazy ideas about what I want to do next...
So I met AR at our nearest Crunch and we took a spinning class. Well, sort of. AR actively participated in the class from beginning to end. I pretty much sat on my bike and peddled with intent every now and then. I didn't sprint all out, nor did I pile on the resistance. I just wanted to get the blood flowing in my legs again. They've been feeling like dead weight since Monday evening.
But, it seems that 60 minutes on the bike also got the blood flowing to my brain, again, too. Four days without a run and I feel like I haven't had any time to just THINK.
Thursday 6:30 PM spin is a pretty good class. The instructor is hella ripped. He's also German, and since I'm pretty obsessed with accents, I can quickly get lost in his voice. So I tune out everything else, and just listen to his commands. I spend the entire class zoned out but deep in thought.
Thinking... (Position 1) About what I want to buy at the grocery store. (Position 2) Grocery store my ass. I want to go shopping at Nordstrom's. (Position 1) About whether or not I REALLY like my job. (Position 3) And about how I'm going to remedy my answer to that question. (Position 2) About my quadriceps, which are feeling a little sore right now. (Position 1) About apartments. And parking spaces. And down payments. (Position 3) About my butt. And about how it looks in my jeans. The jeans that I'm going to wear on Sunday. Oh, Sunday. I cannot WAIT for Sunday. (Position 3 - STILL) Are you effing kidding me? HURRY UP, Sunday! HURRY UP and get here! My butt is just FINE as is!
While cycling away, I also spent some time thinking about - of all things - cycling. I think I want a bike, sometimes. Yeah, it's turning into pretty much all the time. But I don't know how I feel about wearing THAT much spandex. Cyclists wear a lot of spandex... If I'm going to wear all that spandex, I'm probably going to have to get into the effing pool, at some point. Or at least back to regular weight training. Mabye I'll get a trainer? They're kind of expensive and likely not worth the money, though... But how much would I really pay for cut triceps? Hmm... Not as much as I would pay for six pack abs. OOOH! Bikram! I haven't been to Bikram in a while. I could DEFINITELY go for some Bikram. Right now. And a salad with avocado. I am hungry.
And for the rest of the class I can only think about food. But I welcome the hunger. I haven't been very hungry since the Powerade incident.
This hour on the bike has brought life back to my legs. Which is good. I'll be needing them again, very soon . And these sixty minutes of spinning have also provided me time for uninterrupted thought. My brain is coming back to life. Which is also good. 60 minutes of spinning my wheel and I'm feeling pretty damn SMART again.
And I'm getting all kinds of crazy ideas about what I want to do next...
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Twiddling My Thumbs
I'm on top of all of my projects at work. (Pretty much.) And I don't have to travel anywhere again until July. (But of course, when I do, I'll be headed for Chicago...)
I've caught up on The Sopranos. And Big Love. All of my clothes are put away. My room is in order and the apartment is actually kind of clean.
I don't owe anyone an email. And it's too late (on the East Coast) to call the people I need to call.
...(twiddle, twiddle, twiddle)...
So... what do you do at night when you don't have to plan a route, pack a bag for the gym, make your breakfast the night before, wash your sports bras in the sink, or go to bed early? What do you DO with so much free time?
I'll tell you one thing - if you plan on hanging out with your roommates and Ben and Jerry, then you better remember to take your Lactaid pills.
I've caught up on The Sopranos. And Big Love. All of my clothes are put away. My room is in order and the apartment is actually kind of clean.
I don't owe anyone an email. And it's too late (on the East Coast) to call the people I need to call.
...(twiddle, twiddle, twiddle)...
So... what do you do at night when you don't have to plan a route, pack a bag for the gym, make your breakfast the night before, wash your sports bras in the sink, or go to bed early? What do you DO with so much free time?
I'll tell you one thing - if you plan on hanging out with your roommates and Ben and Jerry, then you better remember to take your Lactaid pills.
Monday, June 05, 2006
The Rock and Bonk Marathon Race Report
The alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. and I was ready for it. Having already woken up at 2:30 a.m. and 3:30 a.m. to go peeps, I was feeling pretty good. Hydrated. Rested. Excited. I body-glided, dressed, slurped down my Organic Optimum Power Instant Hot Oatmeal (from a mug in my hotel room, since I forgot to pack spoons...) and began to quasi-obsess over how to wear my hair. Double French braids and a visor or pony tail and dri-fit cap?
At 5:15 a.m., I went downstairs. A. Maria, THE Little Miss Runner Pants herself, picked me up. (How cool is THAT?) A few moments later we were zipping down the freeway, headed to the starting village. With A. Maria's friend behind the wheel, we navigated a sweet back-road route to avoid the traffic. By 5:30 a.m. we were at the starting village.
We waited in line for the Port-o-potties, and I dodged a guy from my running club who irritates the hell out of me, before we met up with Runner Susan. Again, we used the port-o-potties, and then we went our separate ways to take some time for ourselves. I was excited, but calm. I felt really good and strong, but I wasn't sure I had eaten enough. So I grabbed a half of a bagel, jogged around Balboa park for a few minutes, peed yet again behind some bushes - much to the surprise (delight?) of the fellas who were doing the same - and headed to the corrals.
I entered Corral #4 and took a look around... Damn, these runners looked GOOD! But I felt good, too, so it was great standing side by side with a great group of men and women. I spotted the 3:40 pacer and tried to focus on going out slow and staying with the 3:40 pack. But then the gun went off, and we were on our way, and I quickly lost sight of that group as I dodged in and out of pockets of people.
The start was actually quite smooth for a race with 20,000 participants. I've done two Rock N Roll Half Marathons in Virginia Beach, and I will give Elite Racing props for consistently doing a great job at setting up the corrals. I passed the Mile 1 marker at 9:27 gun time and heard someone say, "25 more miles to go!" I couldn't stop smiling. I love running, races, and especially marathons.
Around mile 3 - just past the San Diego Zoo - I realized I was going to have to pee again. So I pulled over and went behind a bush. If you haven't noticed, I really detest port-o-potties. (And I've got a cute butt, so if some runners get to see it, good for them!) Looking back, I am sure that this quick pee break only took about 30 seconds. But I definitely picked up the pace after this pit stop. I spotted what I thought was the 3:40 pace group, and tried to catch up. Only to realize once I was within a few yards of them that they were the 3:30 pace group...
Still, I felt good. I didn't feel like I was breathing heavily. I didn't feel like my legs were uncomfortable. I felt strong. And fast. And fabulous. Down into the Gas Lamp district, the crowds were pretty good, although still a little too quiet and sedate, in my opinion. Pretty soon - actually, all too soon - I had passed the 10K mark. Chip time - 48:57. Pace - 7:54 min/mile.
Um, SLOW DOWN, Nic! Awesome 10K PR aside, we're racing a marathon here. Buck up!
So I let myself fall further behind the 3:30 group. Continuing through the Gas Lamp District past Mile 7 and onto 10th Avenue towards Mile 8. I continued to glide down the slight hill onto Highway 163, checking my pace band at every mile. Mile 9, Mile 10, Mile 11, Mile 12 - still ahead of a 3:40 finish. I can do this, I can do this. I feel great. Still many miles to go, but I feel strong and powerful. 3:40! 3:40! 3:40!
I crossed Mile 13.1 in 1:47:06. Another PR! Holy Shit. That's three minutes faster than my best half marathon to date.
Nic, slow down!!!! 8:11 minutes/mile is still TOO FAST!
Except that I didn't say that too myself. Maybe the logical side of me said that to myself, but the"Wow I'm running such a great race" side of me said something else: Keep it up! This is so much fun! Faster faster faster! Right left right left fly glide soar!
Why does my rational and practical side have to be so quite and reserved? If only Rational-Practical screamed like Bold-Daring does. Maybe Rational-Practical would have been able to make herself heard. But no... Bold-Daring was out of control! It was as if we were at a crazy college (UVA) fraternity party and everyone was about to go and streak The Lawn, but not without first taking shots of Jegger. (Bold-Daring was always up for Jegger shots. And streaking The Lawn.) So of course, yesterday on the marathon course, Bold-Daring wanted to keep up the quick pace. But not before grabbing a cup of Powerade at the next water stop.
I honestly don't remember having Powerade problems in the past. Dad says I hate the stuff. And since I never consume Powerade or Gatorade during training, I probably at one point did decide to not drink it anymore. (And because you called me three times during the race, Dad, I'm sure it's also because you remember everything and are often right. Happy Father's Day.) But I have definitely had Gatorade or Powerade during other races without any problems. But yesterday, the Powerade did NOT sit well. Nor did it absorb. It just kind of floated in my stomach. But I didn't really notice it until after Mile 14. After I had just drank another cup of it. And subsequently threw up in my mouth.
It was nasty. But it made me laugh, kind of, as I instinctively recited some of my favorite lines from the movie Dodgeball. Allow me...
I think I slowed down to about 10 minute miles by Mile 16 or 17. I remember the 3:40 pace group passing me somewhere along that mile. But I hadn't given up yet, though. I remember thinking - HOPING - that my stomach would start to cooperate. I drank some water and walked for a couple of minutes. I don't remember any crowds during this leg of the race, but maybe that's because I couldn't think about much more than my stomach at that point.
Between Mile 18 and 19, I tried to drink more water. But it was just so hard to swallow. The thought of adding anything else to my stomach repulsed me. By Mile 20, my time was 3:07:11. That's when I finally accepted that 3:40 was not going to happen. Hell, at that point I knew I wasn't going to PR anymore, either. And I figured that I better just get to the finish line un-injured. So much for rocking and rolling... I had definitely bonked. (My first time ever.)
I heard the announcers at the finish line right as I was about to cross Mile 26. I heard them counting down the four-hour mark. And I felt an even larger ache as I realized I wasn't even going to break four hours. The dancer in me tried to smile as I came in for the final stretch, but it just hurt too much. I glanced at the clock and noticed that it read 4:03:43. Once I was in the finisher's chute, I just curled up in a ball. I couldn't even cry. I collected my things and headed out to the grass near the San Diego Track Club where we agreed to meet up with everyone. I nibbled on a Clif Bar and a banana, sipped some water, and just sat there kind of dazed.
After a while, I started to reflect. In particular, I thought about what I had been afraid of before the race: pain and failure.
Pain: The pain I felt at Mile 20 was not the same kind of pain I had been afraid of before the race. No, it was worse. Worse because I brought this pain onto myself with a very unintelligent, snap-decision. I'm sure I make many unintelligent snap-decisions throughout my daily life, but normally I can quickly recover from them. I couldn't recover from this one. Not on that course, anyway.
And Failure: Failure sucks as much as I thought it would. My ego is bruised. And I'm embarrassed. I don't fail. Really, I don't. I have only been handed one other rejection in my life. I hate that I finished the race yesterday in 4:02:24 - lungs solid, legs strong, hips and knees pain-free, stomach ROARING with pain. I hate that physically, I was capable of running the race I wanted to run. And I hate that I made a very bad decision - all by myself - and that that decision brought me down. I hate the clarity of hindsight and I hate that I can't go back and fix this mistake. I hate that I have to wait until October before I can try to prove myself again. I REALLY hate how this race played out.
***BIG EFFING SIGH***
But I love that I ran a 1:47 half marathon. I love that I visited San Diego. I love that I got to hang out with the real-life versions of bloggers - the running chick in the orange hat, laura from my beautiful life, runner susan, little miss runner pants, aa from it's a beautiful life, ncmunckin from winning by losing, anne run dmz, and Jeff. And I love that was able to celebrate the end of the worst marathon ever with a new fabulous real-life friend over French fries and tequila shots.
I still have a lot more to think about, though. As AFS very kindly reminded me, I am still a young marathoner. Both in age and inexperience. I am signed up for the San Francisco Half Marathon on July 31, and the Chicago Marathon on October 22, and I am much better positioned for these races coming off of the training I completed throughout the first half of 2006 than I was when I ran my last full and half marathons. I still think I can qualify for Boston this year, if I want to. (And I do, but that's a whole other topic...) But I need some time to rest and recollect my thoughts and focus, first.
At 5:15 a.m., I went downstairs. A. Maria, THE Little Miss Runner Pants herself, picked me up. (How cool is THAT?) A few moments later we were zipping down the freeway, headed to the starting village. With A. Maria's friend behind the wheel, we navigated a sweet back-road route to avoid the traffic. By 5:30 a.m. we were at the starting village.
We waited in line for the Port-o-potties, and I dodged a guy from my running club who irritates the hell out of me, before we met up with Runner Susan. Again, we used the port-o-potties, and then we went our separate ways to take some time for ourselves. I was excited, but calm. I felt really good and strong, but I wasn't sure I had eaten enough. So I grabbed a half of a bagel, jogged around Balboa park for a few minutes, peed yet again behind some bushes - much to the surprise (delight?) of the fellas who were doing the same - and headed to the corrals.
I entered Corral #4 and took a look around... Damn, these runners looked GOOD! But I felt good, too, so it was great standing side by side with a great group of men and women. I spotted the 3:40 pacer and tried to focus on going out slow and staying with the 3:40 pack. But then the gun went off, and we were on our way, and I quickly lost sight of that group as I dodged in and out of pockets of people.
The start was actually quite smooth for a race with 20,000 participants. I've done two Rock N Roll Half Marathons in Virginia Beach, and I will give Elite Racing props for consistently doing a great job at setting up the corrals. I passed the Mile 1 marker at 9:27 gun time and heard someone say, "25 more miles to go!" I couldn't stop smiling. I love running, races, and especially marathons.
Around mile 3 - just past the San Diego Zoo - I realized I was going to have to pee again. So I pulled over and went behind a bush. If you haven't noticed, I really detest port-o-potties. (And I've got a cute butt, so if some runners get to see it, good for them!) Looking back, I am sure that this quick pee break only took about 30 seconds. But I definitely picked up the pace after this pit stop. I spotted what I thought was the 3:40 pace group, and tried to catch up. Only to realize once I was within a few yards of them that they were the 3:30 pace group...
Still, I felt good. I didn't feel like I was breathing heavily. I didn't feel like my legs were uncomfortable. I felt strong. And fast. And fabulous. Down into the Gas Lamp district, the crowds were pretty good, although still a little too quiet and sedate, in my opinion. Pretty soon - actually, all too soon - I had passed the 10K mark. Chip time - 48:57. Pace - 7:54 min/mile.
Um, SLOW DOWN, Nic! Awesome 10K PR aside, we're racing a marathon here. Buck up!
So I let myself fall further behind the 3:30 group. Continuing through the Gas Lamp District past Mile 7 and onto 10th Avenue towards Mile 8. I continued to glide down the slight hill onto Highway 163, checking my pace band at every mile. Mile 9, Mile 10, Mile 11, Mile 12 - still ahead of a 3:40 finish. I can do this, I can do this. I feel great. Still many miles to go, but I feel strong and powerful. 3:40! 3:40! 3:40!
I crossed Mile 13.1 in 1:47:06. Another PR! Holy Shit. That's three minutes faster than my best half marathon to date.
Nic, slow down!!!! 8:11 minutes/mile is still TOO FAST!
Except that I didn't say that too myself. Maybe the logical side of me said that to myself, but the"Wow I'm running such a great race" side of me said something else: Keep it up! This is so much fun! Faster faster faster! Right left right left fly glide soar!
Why does my rational and practical side have to be so quite and reserved? If only Rational-Practical screamed like Bold-Daring does. Maybe Rational-Practical would have been able to make herself heard. But no... Bold-Daring was out of control! It was as if we were at a crazy college (UVA) fraternity party and everyone was about to go and streak The Lawn, but not without first taking shots of Jegger. (Bold-Daring was always up for Jegger shots. And streaking The Lawn.) So of course, yesterday on the marathon course, Bold-Daring wanted to keep up the quick pace. But not before grabbing a cup of Powerade at the next water stop.
I honestly don't remember having Powerade problems in the past. Dad says I hate the stuff. And since I never consume Powerade or Gatorade during training, I probably at one point did decide to not drink it anymore. (And because you called me three times during the race, Dad, I'm sure it's also because you remember everything and are often right. Happy Father's Day.) But I have definitely had Gatorade or Powerade during other races without any problems. But yesterday, the Powerade did NOT sit well. Nor did it absorb. It just kind of floated in my stomach. But I didn't really notice it until after Mile 14. After I had just drank another cup of it. And subsequently threw up in my mouth.
It was nasty. But it made me laugh, kind of, as I instinctively recited some of my favorite lines from the movie Dodgeball. Allow me...
- White Goodman: Are you okay?
- Kate Veatch: I'm fine. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
- White Goodman: In some cultures, they only eat vomit. I never been there, but I read about it... *in a book*.
I think I slowed down to about 10 minute miles by Mile 16 or 17. I remember the 3:40 pace group passing me somewhere along that mile. But I hadn't given up yet, though. I remember thinking - HOPING - that my stomach would start to cooperate. I drank some water and walked for a couple of minutes. I don't remember any crowds during this leg of the race, but maybe that's because I couldn't think about much more than my stomach at that point.
Between Mile 18 and 19, I tried to drink more water. But it was just so hard to swallow. The thought of adding anything else to my stomach repulsed me. By Mile 20, my time was 3:07:11. That's when I finally accepted that 3:40 was not going to happen. Hell, at that point I knew I wasn't going to PR anymore, either. And I figured that I better just get to the finish line un-injured. So much for rocking and rolling... I had definitely bonked. (My first time ever.)
I heard the announcers at the finish line right as I was about to cross Mile 26. I heard them counting down the four-hour mark. And I felt an even larger ache as I realized I wasn't even going to break four hours. The dancer in me tried to smile as I came in for the final stretch, but it just hurt too much. I glanced at the clock and noticed that it read 4:03:43. Once I was in the finisher's chute, I just curled up in a ball. I couldn't even cry. I collected my things and headed out to the grass near the San Diego Track Club where we agreed to meet up with everyone. I nibbled on a Clif Bar and a banana, sipped some water, and just sat there kind of dazed.
After a while, I started to reflect. In particular, I thought about what I had been afraid of before the race: pain and failure.
Pain: The pain I felt at Mile 20 was not the same kind of pain I had been afraid of before the race. No, it was worse. Worse because I brought this pain onto myself with a very unintelligent, snap-decision. I'm sure I make many unintelligent snap-decisions throughout my daily life, but normally I can quickly recover from them. I couldn't recover from this one. Not on that course, anyway.
And Failure: Failure sucks as much as I thought it would. My ego is bruised. And I'm embarrassed. I don't fail. Really, I don't. I have only been handed one other rejection in my life. I hate that I finished the race yesterday in 4:02:24 - lungs solid, legs strong, hips and knees pain-free, stomach ROARING with pain. I hate that physically, I was capable of running the race I wanted to run. And I hate that I made a very bad decision - all by myself - and that that decision brought me down. I hate the clarity of hindsight and I hate that I can't go back and fix this mistake. I hate that I have to wait until October before I can try to prove myself again. I REALLY hate how this race played out.
***BIG EFFING SIGH***
But I love that I ran a 1:47 half marathon. I love that I visited San Diego. I love that I got to hang out with the real-life versions of bloggers - the running chick in the orange hat, laura from my beautiful life, runner susan, little miss runner pants, aa from it's a beautiful life, ncmunckin from winning by losing, anne run dmz, and Jeff. And I love that was able to celebrate the end of the worst marathon ever with a new fabulous real-life friend over French fries and tequila shots.
I still have a lot more to think about, though. As AFS very kindly reminded me, I am still a young marathoner. Both in age and inexperience. I am signed up for the San Francisco Half Marathon on July 31, and the Chicago Marathon on October 22, and I am much better positioned for these races coming off of the training I completed throughout the first half of 2006 than I was when I ran my last full and half marathons. I still think I can qualify for Boston this year, if I want to. (And I do, but that's a whole other topic...) But I need some time to rest and recollect my thoughts and focus, first.
One final note, though. When reviewing my results on the Rock N Roll site, I found this interesting tidbit of information: "For the record, you finished ahead of about 72% of male finishers."
Good to know that despite totally bonking, I still kicked some serious Man Butt!
Good to know that despite totally bonking, I still kicked some serious Man Butt!
Sunday, June 04, 2006
No Dice
It was a very bad day for Nic...
I know 4:02:24 is a very respectable time. But it doesn't feel that way becuase I know I am capable of running a much better race. However I am finding a little solitude in my placements...
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
- Clock Time - 4:03:43
- Chip Time - 4:02:24
I know 4:02:24 is a very respectable time. But it doesn't feel that way becuase I know I am capable of running a much better race. However I am finding a little solitude in my placements...
- Overall Place - 2890 out of 21,159 registered runners and 15,771 finishers (Top 18% of finishers)
- Gender Place - 825 out of 8,414 finishers (Top 10%)
- 25-29 Age Group Place - 236 out of 2030 (Top 12%)
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Difficult but Doable
The past few days, I have been afraid of two moment's in tomorrow's race:
Moment #1: When I start to feel that the qualifying pace is too hard. When I run smack into the proverbial wall. That wall that I have never run into before during a race. I am afraid of that moment when it starts to hurt. To really fucking hurt.
- AND -
Moment #2: That point in time when I realize I am either going to make it to the finish in 3:40 or that I am going to totally miss my mark. I am afraid that I will have to keep running knowing that I'm not going to qualify for Boston. I am afraid that the pain of those miles will surpass anyting I felt earlier on in Moment #1.
So, I am afraid. Very afraid of these moments. But I think it's just because I so easily complicate things. Running is so simple, though, really. Putting one foot in front of the other, and then the other foot in front of that one. Repeating. Again and again and again. Over and over and over and over. Again. And quickly. Quickly quickly quickly quickly. "Fast as you can..." It's simple. And races? Why, the course is mapped out for us. Every mile is marked. With a clock, even. Just listen for the gun and then get going. And don't stop until you break the tape. Easy.
So I shouldn't be so afraid. That pending pain? Well, I'm ready for it. Because I've felt it before... And I've lived to talk about it. As the ad says, "Pain is weakness leaving the body." (So get the hell out. And hurry!) But thank you, HEG, for reminding me that even though THIS may hurt, and likely won't be easy, it is no less doable. And CO, you are right - that wall doesn't even exist! And I promise not to believe in it for a second.
And that moment of doom? When I'll learn if I'm going to hit or miss a Boston qualifying time? Well, I shouldn't have to worry about that moment. Because I'll have a pace band on my left arm. Right next to my watch. So I'll always know where I stand - in relationship to the 2006 RNR Finish Line, as well as in relationship to the 2007 Boston Starting Line in Hopkinton. So there's no need to obsess about that moment of realization.
Thus, the hardest part, is right now. Before the race starts. When my mind gets to race but my body doesn't get to follow. Yes, the hardest part is now. Because I am ready. So far this year, I have run 748.5 miles. I have gone long for 20, 21, and 22 miles, recovering each week with an *easy* 16. And I have intervaled, completing Yasso 800s in 3:40. I have climbed hills. And mountains, even. With speed and grace and lightness. My performances are consistent. And my easy pace has quickened. My legs are freakishly strong. I am Ms. High Mileage. And I am ready!
But Dad - it would help a LOT if you could yell, "Go, 'Cole!" at about 10:00 AM PDT tomorrow morning. So loud that I can hear you all the way from Philadelphia. I know what you're thinking... Difficult, but doable, right?
Yeah... Just like qualifying for Boston.
Moment #1: When I start to feel that the qualifying pace is too hard. When I run smack into the proverbial wall. That wall that I have never run into before during a race. I am afraid of that moment when it starts to hurt. To really fucking hurt.
- AND -
Moment #2: That point in time when I realize I am either going to make it to the finish in 3:40 or that I am going to totally miss my mark. I am afraid that I will have to keep running knowing that I'm not going to qualify for Boston. I am afraid that the pain of those miles will surpass anyting I felt earlier on in Moment #1.
So, I am afraid. Very afraid of these moments. But I think it's just because I so easily complicate things. Running is so simple, though, really. Putting one foot in front of the other, and then the other foot in front of that one. Repeating. Again and again and again. Over and over and over and over. Again. And quickly. Quickly quickly quickly quickly. "Fast as you can..." It's simple. And races? Why, the course is mapped out for us. Every mile is marked. With a clock, even. Just listen for the gun and then get going. And don't stop until you break the tape. Easy.
So I shouldn't be so afraid. That pending pain? Well, I'm ready for it. Because I've felt it before... And I've lived to talk about it. As the ad says, "Pain is weakness leaving the body." (So get the hell out. And hurry!) But thank you, HEG, for reminding me that even though THIS may hurt, and likely won't be easy, it is no less doable. And CO, you are right - that wall doesn't even exist! And I promise not to believe in it for a second.
And that moment of doom? When I'll learn if I'm going to hit or miss a Boston qualifying time? Well, I shouldn't have to worry about that moment. Because I'll have a pace band on my left arm. Right next to my watch. So I'll always know where I stand - in relationship to the 2006 RNR Finish Line, as well as in relationship to the 2007 Boston Starting Line in Hopkinton. So there's no need to obsess about that moment of realization.
Thus, the hardest part, is right now. Before the race starts. When my mind gets to race but my body doesn't get to follow. Yes, the hardest part is now. Because I am ready. So far this year, I have run 748.5 miles. I have gone long for 20, 21, and 22 miles, recovering each week with an *easy* 16. And I have intervaled, completing Yasso 800s in 3:40. I have climbed hills. And mountains, even. With speed and grace and lightness. My performances are consistent. And my easy pace has quickened. My legs are freakishly strong. I am Ms. High Mileage. And I am ready!
But Dad - it would help a LOT if you could yell, "Go, 'Cole!" at about 10:00 AM PDT tomorrow morning. So loud that I can hear you all the way from Philadelphia. I know what you're thinking... Difficult, but doable, right?
Yeah... Just like qualifying for Boston.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Believing Is Art
I can no longer tell you how many nights I have spent in a hotel by myself. Because it's a lot. With travel for work being what it is, and driving cross country by myself, I am the queen of the King Bed Good Night Sleeep.
But tonight, I wouldn't mind sharing a double with a good buddy. I am feeling pretty lonely.
And fat. I am feeling SO effing FAT. I had a brownie on Wednesday night at O'Hare whilst I waited for hours and hours and hours for my plane to take off. I know, it was just ONE brownie. But why do my little running shorts feel SO god damn LITTLE?!
I have also been a total dumb ass, today. Turns out, it was my flight BACK to San Francisco that was rescheduled to one hour earlier not my flight DOWN to San Diego. So I woke up at 5:00 a.m. for nothing. And I thought I forgot Wilson Jr. (My Nano) at home while riding to the airport and nearly had a heart attack before finding him deep in the OTHER pocket. And then I thought I forgot my wallet while checking-in for my flight and nearly had a stroke before finding her in the OTHER other pocket. And if those near-hospitalizations weren't enough, I also dropped my cell phone getting on the plane without realizing it. Yep, nearly threw myself out the window after that one.
But I am here now, in San Diego. And I am SO ridiculously nervous. My heart has been pounding in my throat pretty much all day. And I cannot sit still. I keep hearing myself take these deep cleansing breaths, too. What the hell is wrong with me?
I hope it is just that I am so tired. I still haven't caught up on sleep from the 22 hour day on Wednesday. So I am going to bed soon. And I am hoping to wake up with a better attitude... It's just really hard to believe in yourself when you are a total mess.
I did get in a three miler tonight. In 25:37. Which is about goal pace. And it felt OK, I guess.
"It Depends It Depends And It Comes Back Again.
Yes Things That Everybody Would Say.
Believing is Hard.
Believing is Art."
"Believing is Art," by Spoon. From the album, Girls Can Tell.
But tonight, I wouldn't mind sharing a double with a good buddy. I am feeling pretty lonely.
And fat. I am feeling SO effing FAT. I had a brownie on Wednesday night at O'Hare whilst I waited for hours and hours and hours for my plane to take off. I know, it was just ONE brownie. But why do my little running shorts feel SO god damn LITTLE?!
I have also been a total dumb ass, today. Turns out, it was my flight BACK to San Francisco that was rescheduled to one hour earlier not my flight DOWN to San Diego. So I woke up at 5:00 a.m. for nothing. And I thought I forgot Wilson Jr. (My Nano) at home while riding to the airport and nearly had a heart attack before finding him deep in the OTHER pocket. And then I thought I forgot my wallet while checking-in for my flight and nearly had a stroke before finding her in the OTHER other pocket. And if those near-hospitalizations weren't enough, I also dropped my cell phone getting on the plane without realizing it. Yep, nearly threw myself out the window after that one.
But I am here now, in San Diego. And I am SO ridiculously nervous. My heart has been pounding in my throat pretty much all day. And I cannot sit still. I keep hearing myself take these deep cleansing breaths, too. What the hell is wrong with me?
I hope it is just that I am so tired. I still haven't caught up on sleep from the 22 hour day on Wednesday. So I am going to bed soon. And I am hoping to wake up with a better attitude... It's just really hard to believe in yourself when you are a total mess.
I did get in a three miler tonight. In 25:37. Which is about goal pace. And it felt OK, I guess.
"It Depends It Depends And It Comes Back Again.
Yes Things That Everybody Would Say.
Believing is Hard.
Believing is Art."
"Believing is Art," by Spoon. From the album, Girls Can Tell.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
3:40:59 - The Playlist
Feet don't fail me now...
| Name | Artist | Album |
| Square One | Coldplay | X & Y |
| Bang a Gong (Get It On) | T. Rex | Electric Warrior (Remastered) |
| The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth | Clap Your Hands Say Yeah | Clap Your Hands Say Yeah |
| Mr. Blue Sky | Electric Light Orchestra | Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind |
| Angels of the Silences | Counting Crows | Recovering the Satellites |
| Mother We Just Can't Get Enough | The New Radicals | Maybe You've Been Brainwashed Too |
| Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels) | Arcade Fire | Funeral |
| One by One All Day | The Shins | Oh, Inverted World |
| Runnin' Down A Dream | Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers | Greatest Hits |
| Day Tripper | The Beatles | 1962-1966 |
| Another Travelin' Song | Bright Eyes | I'm Wide Awake It's Morning |
| Black Tambourine | Beck | Guero |
| Small Stakes | Spoon | Kill The Moonlight |
| Everlong | Foo Fighters | The Colour And The Shape |
| The District Sleeps Alone Tonight | The Postal Service | Give Up |
| Goodnight and Go | Imogen Heap | Music from The O.C.: Mix 4 (Soundtrack from the TV Show) |
| Pictures of Me | Elliott Smith | Either/Or |
| Where The Streets Have No Name | U2 | Joshua Tree |
| Finding Out True Love Is Blind | Louis XIV | The Best Little Secrets Are Kept (Bonus Tracks) |
| Diamond Dogs | Beck | Beck - Miscellaneous |
| California Waiting | Kings of Leon | Youth & Young Manhood |
| I'm Always in Love | Wilco | Summerteeth |
| Death Letter | The White Stripes | De Stijl |
| Harder to Breathe | Maroon 5 | Songs About Jane |
| They Never Got You | Spoon | Gimme Fiction |
| Paint It, Black | The Rolling Stones | Aftermath |
| Unglued | Stone Temple Pilots | Purple |
| Do You Want To | Franz Ferdinand | You Could Have It So Much Better |
| Just a Ride | Jem | Music from The O.C.: Mix 1 |
| My Name Is Jonas | Weezer | Weezer |
| Even Better Than the Real Thing | U2 | The Best of 1990-2000 |
| Shameless | Ani DiFranco | Living In Clip (Disc 2) [Live] |
| The Bends | Radiohead | The Bends |
| Mr. Brightside | The Killers | Hot Fuss |
| Bigger Than My Body | John Mayer | Heavier Things [Dualdisc] Disc 1 |
| Fight Test | The Flaming Lips | Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots |
| Can't Stop | The Red Hot Chili Peppers | By the Way |
| One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces | Ben Folds Five | Whatever and Ever Amen |
| Motorcycle Drive By | Third Eye Blind | Third Eye Blind |
| Blue Orchid | The White Stripes | Get Behind Me Satan |
| Here It Goes Again | Ok Go | Oh No |
| Just Like Heaven | The Cure | Galore |
| I Summon You | Spoon | Gimme Fiction |
| First Tube | Phish | Farmhouse |
| Happier | Guster | Lost and Gone Forever |
| Red Rain | The White Stripes | Get Behind Me Satan |
| Fast as You Can | Fiona Apple | When the Pawn |
| Let Go | Frou Frou | Garden State |
| Look Good In Leather | Cody Chesnutt | The Headphone Masterpiece (Disc 2) |
| It's The End Of The World (And I Feel Fine) | R.E.M. | The Very Best Of |
| The Hardest Button to Button | The White Stripes | Elephant |
| Jonathon Fisk | Spoon | Kill The Moonlight |
| Precious Things | Tori Amos | Little Earthquakes |
| 30 Gallon Tank | Spoon | A Series of Sneaks |
| The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song...(With All Your Power) | The Flaming Lips | At War With the Mystics |
It's the Humility
It's not the flight. It's the damn delay.
And it's not the work as much as it's the RIDICULOUS clients.
It's not the early six o'clock wake up call. It's the freaking Central Time Zone.
And it's not the meeting as much as it's the lost time spent sitting through it.
It's not the running. But it's everything else about training, at this point.
The 8 hours of sleep a night I haven't been getting the past few weeks.
The healthy meals I haven't been eating while living the life of a Road Warrior.
As for the race, which is now a little more than three days away...
It's not the 26.2 as much as the 3:40:59.
Not the distance. I know I can GO THE DISTANCE.
I just don't know if I can keep up that effing 8:24/mile average pace.
Really - it's not the heat. I can handle the heat. It's the humility that is keeping me up right now. After a 22 hour day in Chicago, exhausted as all hell, doubting that I'll even be able to pull myself out of bed tomorrow let alone complete my day at the office, on the trail, and in the laundromat before heading back to the effing airport AGAIN.
Next time, though, on my way to San Diego...
And it's not the work as much as it's the RIDICULOUS clients.
It's not the early six o'clock wake up call. It's the freaking Central Time Zone.
And it's not the meeting as much as it's the lost time spent sitting through it.
It's not the running. But it's everything else about training, at this point.
The 8 hours of sleep a night I haven't been getting the past few weeks.
The healthy meals I haven't been eating while living the life of a Road Warrior.
As for the race, which is now a little more than three days away...
It's not the 26.2 as much as the 3:40:59.
Not the distance. I know I can GO THE DISTANCE.
I just don't know if I can keep up that effing 8:24/mile average pace.
Really - it's not the heat. I can handle the heat. It's the humility that is keeping me up right now. After a 22 hour day in Chicago, exhausted as all hell, doubting that I'll even be able to pull myself out of bed tomorrow let alone complete my day at the office, on the trail, and in the laundromat before heading back to the effing airport AGAIN.
Next time, though, on my way to San Diego...
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Climb Every Mountain
I've done some pretty cool things in my life. Many of them during Phase Five, of course. This past weekend I added another one to the list.
Don't get me wrong. Lying on a towel in a bikini atop sand at the Jersey Shore is a great way to celebrate the arrival of summer. And if you can upgrade from the Jersey Shore to a locale clad with Palm Trees - well, GO FOR IT. (Unless you happen to be from Philly and absolutely LOVE overcrowded beaches, 60 degree water, duplex housing, and REAL Boardwalk Fries. In that case, to hell with Palm Trees, I'll see you at Mack and Mancos.)
But this year, I did Memorial Day Norcal style, by heading out to Lake Tahoe. I had never been to Lake Tahoe before this weekend; and already, I can't wait to go back! We left early Saturday morning crossing the Bay Bridge and heading out I-80 East. We said good-bye to the San Francisco Bay, setting our sights on the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Our only stop was for Tasty Teriyaki Burgers from Ikitas. (Hmm... this IS a Tasty Burger...) Ikitas has GOT to be the coolest little store ever. Burgers, produce, pies, and mango salsa. Topped off with complementary salsa sampling!
Our cabin was in Norden, CA - North Lake Tahoe. Most of the ride was beautiful, however during the last half hour of the drive we went through both snow and hail storms. And I did panic a LITTLE about not having snow chains. But it wasn't bad at all, really. Our cabin was near the Sugar Bowl Ski Resort, and my car only got stuck in the lot where we parked our cars. Nothing two big guys and my roommate KT couldn't push me out of, though. And now I can say that my car got stuck in the snow in May!
After parking, we started to unload the car. We had to hike about a half mile to our cabin from the parking lot. Not an easy feet when it's snowing, there is no trail, there's already a good foot of snow on the ground, and 5 girls must figure out a way to carry $500 worth of food and beverage for 15 people for the weekend. Luckily, I have the following going for me: 1) Marathon Legs of Steel, 2) An amusement of snow on Memorial Day, and 3) A brand spankin' new BACK PACK! Like, a REAL back pack. So it wasn't too bad. The food, the beverages, and the girls made it to the cabin after only a few trips.
And of course, the men showed up right after our hard work was done. Smart men, don't you think? We put them to work in the kitchen whipping up drinks and planning the night's meal. Good food plus good wine and some really intense gaming made for some really effing good times.
A pankcake brunch started our Sunday, and then we set off to hike - IN SNOWSHOES! I had never done any snowshoeing before Sunday. And though this weekend marked the start of summer, in some ways, I am already looking forward to the return of winter so that I can do some more snowshoeing again. We started at the base of Mount Judah, part of Sugar Bowl Ski Resort, and headed around the lake and up what normally is a pretty decent ski trail. I will brag and mention that despite being a snowshoe novice, my Marathon Legs helped me trek up most of the mountain (really - The Mountain - this was NOT a dinky hill) in record time.
It took about an hour to get to the point at which the ski lift would normally drop off skiiers. But we weren't satisfied with only making it to the Ski Lift. We could SEE the summit at that point, but we wanted to see FROM the summit. So the real fun started. Because our mountain had turned into more of a wall, and there was no way to get up it without serious arm involvement. There was a lot of digging and toepicking. And gritting as I pulled myself up the mountain, a few tiny inches at a time. Cheers when it went well and little screams when I'd fall back down. A moment of doubt with, "JWC I don't think I can DO it!" Followed by squeals of delight to emit the RUSH of exuberance that flows when you dig in, clench your entire body, and CLIMB...
All the way to the top. A little bit of research leads me to believe the change in altitude from the base to the summit was 6883 feet to about 8383 feet for a change in elevation of about 1500 feet, and a top 5 on the ever-growing list of Top Life Accomplishments, for sure.
The trip back down was great, too. Lots of sliding down on our butts, which was still kind of scary for me, and a reminder of why I let the New Year's Resolution to Ski/Snowboard slide by the wayside. By the time we made it back to the cabin, it was time for Happy Hour. It had been warm hiking up the mountain, but by now it was getting chilly. Still, being from San Francisco, we know how to layer. So we sat out by the (frozen) lake, getting way too competive over Catch Phrase to stay warm.
More good eats, plus a dance party with fantastic beats. The crowning of Flip Cup Champions and WE LOVE YOU, JWC, YOU ARE NOT MOVING hugs. It was morning again before we knew it.
I remember crying as a little kid while my family packed up the house Down the Shore at the end of a summer vacation. I wanted to cry as we cleaned up the cabin and hiked back to the car with our belongings on Monday afternoon. The weekend was THAT GOOD. But, it was nice to get home and a) shower for the first time in two and a half days and b) pee in a toilet instead of in the snow.
Thankfully, we're going back in two more weeks. Can't wait! This East Coast Girl just can't get enough of the West Coast Outdoors! (Be sure to check out the pics!)
Don't get me wrong. Lying on a towel in a bikini atop sand at the Jersey Shore is a great way to celebrate the arrival of summer. And if you can upgrade from the Jersey Shore to a locale clad with Palm Trees - well, GO FOR IT. (Unless you happen to be from Philly and absolutely LOVE overcrowded beaches, 60 degree water, duplex housing, and REAL Boardwalk Fries. In that case, to hell with Palm Trees, I'll see you at Mack and Mancos.)
But this year, I did Memorial Day Norcal style, by heading out to Lake Tahoe. I had never been to Lake Tahoe before this weekend; and already, I can't wait to go back! We left early Saturday morning crossing the Bay Bridge and heading out I-80 East. We said good-bye to the San Francisco Bay, setting our sights on the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Our only stop was for Tasty Teriyaki Burgers from Ikitas. (Hmm... this IS a Tasty Burger...) Ikitas has GOT to be the coolest little store ever. Burgers, produce, pies, and mango salsa. Topped off with complementary salsa sampling!
Our cabin was in Norden, CA - North Lake Tahoe. Most of the ride was beautiful, however during the last half hour of the drive we went through both snow and hail storms. And I did panic a LITTLE about not having snow chains. But it wasn't bad at all, really. Our cabin was near the Sugar Bowl Ski Resort, and my car only got stuck in the lot where we parked our cars. Nothing two big guys and my roommate KT couldn't push me out of, though. And now I can say that my car got stuck in the snow in May!
After parking, we started to unload the car. We had to hike about a half mile to our cabin from the parking lot. Not an easy feet when it's snowing, there is no trail, there's already a good foot of snow on the ground, and 5 girls must figure out a way to carry $500 worth of food and beverage for 15 people for the weekend. Luckily, I have the following going for me: 1) Marathon Legs of Steel, 2) An amusement of snow on Memorial Day, and 3) A brand spankin' new BACK PACK! Like, a REAL back pack. So it wasn't too bad. The food, the beverages, and the girls made it to the cabin after only a few trips.
And of course, the men showed up right after our hard work was done. Smart men, don't you think? We put them to work in the kitchen whipping up drinks and planning the night's meal. Good food plus good wine and some really intense gaming made for some really effing good times.
A pankcake brunch started our Sunday, and then we set off to hike - IN SNOWSHOES! I had never done any snowshoeing before Sunday. And though this weekend marked the start of summer, in some ways, I am already looking forward to the return of winter so that I can do some more snowshoeing again. We started at the base of Mount Judah, part of Sugar Bowl Ski Resort, and headed around the lake and up what normally is a pretty decent ski trail. I will brag and mention that despite being a snowshoe novice, my Marathon Legs helped me trek up most of the mountain (really - The Mountain - this was NOT a dinky hill) in record time.
It took about an hour to get to the point at which the ski lift would normally drop off skiiers. But we weren't satisfied with only making it to the Ski Lift. We could SEE the summit at that point, but we wanted to see FROM the summit. So the real fun started. Because our mountain had turned into more of a wall, and there was no way to get up it without serious arm involvement. There was a lot of digging and toepicking. And gritting as I pulled myself up the mountain, a few tiny inches at a time. Cheers when it went well and little screams when I'd fall back down. A moment of doubt with, "JWC I don't think I can DO it!" Followed by squeals of delight to emit the RUSH of exuberance that flows when you dig in, clench your entire body, and CLIMB...
All the way to the top. A little bit of research leads me to believe the change in altitude from the base to the summit was 6883 feet to about 8383 feet for a change in elevation of about 1500 feet, and a top 5 on the ever-growing list of Top Life Accomplishments, for sure.
The trip back down was great, too. Lots of sliding down on our butts, which was still kind of scary for me, and a reminder of why I let the New Year's Resolution to Ski/Snowboard slide by the wayside. By the time we made it back to the cabin, it was time for Happy Hour. It had been warm hiking up the mountain, but by now it was getting chilly. Still, being from San Francisco, we know how to layer. So we sat out by the (frozen) lake, getting way too competive over Catch Phrase to stay warm.
More good eats, plus a dance party with fantastic beats. The crowning of Flip Cup Champions and WE LOVE YOU, JWC, YOU ARE NOT MOVING hugs. It was morning again before we knew it.
I remember crying as a little kid while my family packed up the house Down the Shore at the end of a summer vacation. I wanted to cry as we cleaned up the cabin and hiked back to the car with our belongings on Monday afternoon. The weekend was THAT GOOD. But, it was nice to get home and a) shower for the first time in two and a half days and b) pee in a toilet instead of in the snow.
Thankfully, we're going back in two more weeks. Can't wait! This East Coast Girl just can't get enough of the West Coast Outdoors! (Be sure to check out the pics!)
Friday, May 26, 2006
Beckoning
I'll admit that back then, when the plans came together, I was scheming. But only a little bit. Because on that first day that we met, we did bond over our mutual taste in music. Especially his music.
So, when I got an email announcing the show at The Fillmore (The Fillmore!!!!) in May, I emailed him and asked if he planned on going. He didn't even know about the show, though. But how do you say no once you know about it? Insider information like this is a CALLING.
So I got tickets, and we pined over them for 40 days.
And honestly, I was prepared to just go as friends. Because the only thing I can't seem to find in this amazing city is a real Guy Friend. And because it's less wierd to pine over a man and his guitar when someone else is pining over him and his guitar, too.
And so we pined. All day at work exchanging emails. Then after work exchanging voicemails. Throughout my afternoon run that I didn't want to do, but because of the SUMMONS I completed with relative ease. Yes, up and down four miles of some of the steepest and fastest hills of San Francisco, which I finished in 36 minutes. Almost stopping to walk on the way back up to Lyon but only almost. (Because when you're listening to him while knowing that you are about to SEE him - and HIM - you just feel like a total bad ass. No - you ARE a total bad ass. You are being summoned. And you don't stop to walk during a summons.)
The show was AWESOME. And HE is awesome. However I wish I could figure out if HE is a natural flirt or if he is trying to tell me something. With his eyes and his smile. And his lingering when our arms touch. His hand on my neck when we talk.
Dude, are you asking me to try to kiss you? AGAIN?
Oh, what I wouldn't give to hear a, "Hell Yes."
"I'm moving this way, I'm doing this thing.
Please enjoy.
Hell yes now I'm turning it on, I'm working my legs.
Hell yes now I'm calling you out, I'm switching my plates.
Peace and joy.
Hell yes now I'm cleaning the floor, my beat is correct."
But for now, it's just our song... (And my beat is SO correct!)
So, when I got an email announcing the show at The Fillmore (The Fillmore!!!!) in May, I emailed him and asked if he planned on going. He didn't even know about the show, though. But how do you say no once you know about it? Insider information like this is a CALLING.
So I got tickets, and we pined over them for 40 days.
And honestly, I was prepared to just go as friends. Because the only thing I can't seem to find in this amazing city is a real Guy Friend. And because it's less wierd to pine over a man and his guitar when someone else is pining over him and his guitar, too.
And so we pined. All day at work exchanging emails. Then after work exchanging voicemails. Throughout my afternoon run that I didn't want to do, but because of the SUMMONS I completed with relative ease. Yes, up and down four miles of some of the steepest and fastest hills of San Francisco, which I finished in 36 minutes. Almost stopping to walk on the way back up to Lyon but only almost. (Because when you're listening to him while knowing that you are about to SEE him - and HIM - you just feel like a total bad ass. No - you ARE a total bad ass. You are being summoned. And you don't stop to walk during a summons.)
The show was AWESOME. And HE is awesome. However I wish I could figure out if HE is a natural flirt or if he is trying to tell me something. With his eyes and his smile. And his lingering when our arms touch. His hand on my neck when we talk.
Dude, are you asking me to try to kiss you? AGAIN?
Oh, what I wouldn't give to hear a, "Hell Yes."
"I'm moving this way, I'm doing this thing.
Please enjoy.
Hell yes now I'm turning it on, I'm working my legs.
Hell yes now I'm calling you out, I'm switching my plates.
Peace and joy.
Hell yes now I'm cleaning the floor, my beat is correct."
But for now, it's just our song... (And my beat is SO correct!)
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
We Just Can't Get Enough
It's always nice to come back to something after you've been away. Reacquainting feels good.
Tonight I got reacquainted with an old friend. It felt good to get his email this morning. To hear his voice on my voicemail. And to finally see his name on my caller ID. I love talking to this friend. He doesn't tolerate my complaining or my excuses. And while he does indulge me with bragging priveleges, he doesn't make a big fuss about my accomplishments.
We couldn't talk for very long. He was boarding an airplane and I was heading out the door to run. (For the first time in a few days.) I was reluctant at first, but our phone call reminded me that it feels good to get reacquainted.
And after a couple of easy miles, "I get a feeling, you get a feeling, we got a feeling, like we're alive."
Planned Distance - 4 Miles
Actual Distance - 4 Miles (Treadmill, 0.5 Incline)
Total Time: 34:40
Average Pace: 8:40/mile
And now that we're back into the groove? Well, we just can't get enough.
- "Mother We Just Can't Get Enough" by The New Radicals. From the Album, Maybe You've Been Brainwashed, Too.
(I know, I know. But as cheesy as this song is, I really just can't get enough!)
Tonight I got reacquainted with an old friend. It felt good to get his email this morning. To hear his voice on my voicemail. And to finally see his name on my caller ID. I love talking to this friend. He doesn't tolerate my complaining or my excuses. And while he does indulge me with bragging priveleges, he doesn't make a big fuss about my accomplishments.
We couldn't talk for very long. He was boarding an airplane and I was heading out the door to run. (For the first time in a few days.) I was reluctant at first, but our phone call reminded me that it feels good to get reacquainted.
And after a couple of easy miles, "I get a feeling, you get a feeling, we got a feeling, like we're alive."
Planned Distance - 4 Miles
Actual Distance - 4 Miles (Treadmill, 0.5 Incline)
Total Time: 34:40
Average Pace: 8:40/mile
And now that we're back into the groove? Well, we just can't get enough.
- "Mother We Just Can't Get Enough" by The New Radicals. From the Album, Maybe You've Been Brainwashed, Too.
(I know, I know. But as cheesy as this song is, I really just can't get enough!)
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Slothful
On Sunday I staggered. And it was fantastic.
On Monday I slugged. Tired and still hazy. But I only had a few more hours to enjoy with TLY and I had to make them count.
On Tuesday I shlepped. Down the hill to work and from meeting to meeting all day. And because I think TLY still has my bus pass, I shlepped up up up to the top of the hill to get home.
Slumberous, I sit on my bed right now. I can barely sustain open eyelids let alone a 9:00/mile pace. My legs aren't sore, but they're quite angry. At the ten miles of trail running I completed on Sunday out at Tennessee Valley in Marin County. And at the six miles of urban hiking from Nob Hill to the Haight and back that rounded out Saturday afternoon. Not to mention the trip from Bay almost to Breakers.
Who knew a seven mile walk could turn a marathoner into such a sloth.
On Monday I slugged. Tired and still hazy. But I only had a few more hours to enjoy with TLY and I had to make them count.
On Tuesday I shlepped. Down the hill to work and from meeting to meeting all day. And because I think TLY still has my bus pass, I shlepped up up up to the top of the hill to get home.
Slumberous, I sit on my bed right now. I can barely sustain open eyelids let alone a 9:00/mile pace. My legs aren't sore, but they're quite angry. At the ten miles of trail running I completed on Sunday out at Tennessee Valley in Marin County. And at the six miles of urban hiking from Nob Hill to the Haight and back that rounded out Saturday afternoon. Not to mention the trip from Bay almost to Breakers.
Who knew a seven mile walk could turn a marathoner into such a sloth.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Bare to Breakers
Well, I did it again. Another PR!!!! This time in San Francisco's most famous road race, Bay to Breakers.
Distance: 7 miles (Almost...)
Time: 3.5 hours (Or so...)
Beers on the Course: 2? 3?
Vodkas on the Course: 3? 4?
Things I Won't Admit to Doing on the Course: 1... 2... 11... 12...
Naked Women I Saw on the Course: 4 (Maximum)
Naked Men I Saw on the Course: 44 (Minimum)
Pictures Taken with Said Naked Men: 8 or 9
These are some tough records to break next year, but I gotta start somewhere!
Oh, if only I could post all those pics... (Beware, some are of the PG-13 variety.)
Distance: 7 miles (Almost...)
Time: 3.5 hours (Or so...)
Beers on the Course: 2? 3?
Vodkas on the Course: 3? 4?
Things I Won't Admit to Doing on the Course: 1... 2... 11... 12...
Naked Women I Saw on the Course: 4 (Maximum)
Naked Men I Saw on the Course: 44 (Minimum)
Pictures Taken with Said Naked Men: 8 or 9
These are some tough records to break next year, but I gotta start somewhere!
Oh, if only I could post all those pics... (Beware, some are of the PG-13 variety.)
Friday, May 19, 2006
Joggling
Sometimes there are just too many balls. That are all in the air at once. These balls, which represent all of my plans for the weekend, are currently in the air. But they are falling. Quickly. And I am pretty sure that I am not going to catch most of them when they fall.
But at least these balls are not eggs.
I keep having to change my plans. Right and left and up and down and sooner and later... Doing my best to just keep on juggling and running with whatever comes my way.
Friday Stats:
Planned Distance: 7 miles TPO
Actual Distance: 5 miles Yasso (flipped with Tuesday / shortened to get into the office)
Time: 42 minutes
Pace: 8:24 min/mile
But at least these balls are not eggs.
I keep having to change my plans. Right and left and up and down and sooner and later... Doing my best to just keep on juggling and running with whatever comes my way.
Friday Stats:
Planned Distance: 7 miles TPO
Actual Distance: 5 miles Yasso (flipped with Tuesday / shortened to get into the office)
Time: 42 minutes
Pace: 8:24 min/mile
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