Sunday Wrap Up: I Let My Country Down

I'm sorry, America. I let you down. This silver medal finish in men's hockey is my fault. How, you ask? After my aforementioned failure to make the Olympic team in the biathlon (I really think the IOC should consider adding Father-Daughter relays...), how could I have further failed in my efforts at Patriotism? I accidently drank non-American beer this week.

I'm sorry, citizens of This Great Nation. It all happened so fast, I didn't even realize until the damage was done. I was at an Asian restaurant, you see, and like a reflex, the waiter asked what I'd like and I replied "Sapporo." And just then, like divine intervention, the restaurant didn't have Sapporo. Alas, my thirst was too great, and I responded with "I'll take a Kirin Ichiban." And it came to the table, and I drank it. And then, after I realized my grievous error, I was still thirsty, and the damage was already done, so I ordered another. Someone remind me of this in Summer 2012.

And now to the wrap-up:

Number of Miles Run: 28. Closer to my actual mileage plan. And, as opposed to last week when I immediately fell unconscious upon completion of my longest run, I was able to function on Saturday night after my hilly 9 1/2 miler.

Number of Beers Consumed: True to my word last week, this week I took daily notes on beer consumption so as not to forget. And I do mean daily. Grand total:19. Ooh-rah! (Sorry Mom...)

Types of Beers Consumed: Again, I had to refer to my notes for this one. Monday - 1 Sierra Nevada and 1 Yueng-ling Black & Tan; Tuesday - 1 Saranac Pale Ale; Wednesday - 1 Sierra Nevada, 4 Brooklyn Lagers (I ordered 4, though the authenticity of one round was questionable), 1 Magic Hat #9 - I hate that beer. Bold, I know. Anyway, Thursday - 1 Sierra Nevada, Friday - 3 Yueng-ling Black & Tan, 1 Bud Light (24 oz. tall boy, so I counted it as 2 beers), and the aforementioned 2 Kirin Ichiban, which is a good if boring beer. Serves its purpose in unsticking sushi rice from the roof of one's mouth. Saturday - 1 Sierra Nevada (sadly I think I've polished off my reserve of these); Sunday - 1 Stone Ale, a beer I tried when in SoCal for the marathon, and one that I think is better served for Sunday night couch times and not lunchtime pizza pairings. Very hoppy, and ill-matched to my sweet BBQ chicken pizza (which ruled).

Some goals for this week:

- Having booked my flights for the Nashville Half Marathon in April, I am thinking more and more about trying to run it in the VFFs. As such, I should increase my mileage in them, starting this week. I was left with a gash in my right foot after wearing the VFFs in the rain this week, and had one failed attempt on the treadmill, so it is my hope that I can do one Brooklyn Bridge 7 miler in them this week.

- I read an article in the Times this week about Belgian-style (though not necessarily Belgian-made) beers, and it inspired me to conduct a taste test on Belgians myself. Purely for scientific purposes of course...

- I've been pretty psyched to get in a 10 miler and a 9 1/2 miler each of the last two weeks, so I'd like to get in another double digit run this week, as well as aim for 30-ish miles.

I hope everyone had a great weekend and no one is too disappointed about the hockey results. And if you are, I recommend drinking.

P.S. Happy Birthday, I-man! And an advance Happy Birthday for tomorrow as well. Leap year babies freak me out...

Chronicling Narnia: Snowy Saturday Run in CT

That snowman is a lot bigger than mine. Also, that house is a lot bigger than my apartment.

A beautiful waterfall. This inspired me to find a spot to pee. Which I did. Success!

Just like Narnia.

Look at that elite barefoot runner!

And look at those elite dirty bare feet!

Snow-icane 2010!

I hope you’ll forgive me for not providing you with new material this morning. I know, the delay was ill-timed, given that no one wants to be working when the weather is bad and therefore everyone is scouring the internet for things to read. I had good reason, though: having consumed 6 beers, a turkey burger with bleu cheese and buffalo sauce, and an order of baked beans on Wednesday night, any attempt at physical activity this morning would not have ended well for anyone involved.

This pic was drawn on the wall of the bar where I did some serious caloric damage last night. It's a sign. That I am not healthy.

After a full day of snowicane-pocalypse, I obviously couldn’t brave the roads for my run tonight and so I was forced to brave the post-work gym crowd. Thankfully many of the biggest weirdoes must have been holed up for the storm, watching women’s figure skating and weeping at the thought that they were home alone watching figure skating on a Thursday night (not judging – I was, after all, at the gym). In any case, I was pleased to find the place virtually deserted (except for Caroline, incidentally. We're such a fit apartment!) and could take my sweet time tonight. Started out in the VFFs, but got very tight in the right arch after about a mile, so I switched to the Asics. Knocked out 7 miles, though not my best work; the knee crap that, until today, seemed to have been cured miraculously by the act of running the Surf City Marathon reared it's head again about 6.5 miles in. Let's blame the dreadmill. Also, turkey burgers with bleu cheese and buffalo sauce take longer than 24 hours to digest. What was I saying last week about heart burn?

Hope everyone is staying warm and dry during this bout of February Fury. You know what helps with that? Drinking beers indoors. Warm? Check. Dry? Try not to spill.

Why God (Or L.L. Bean) Invented Bathrobes

I had to watch that Nike commercial three times this morning to get motivated to go on my run, and even then, it was because I thought it wasn't yet raining. Wrong.

When I got to the Williamsburg Bridge, I thought "What the hell? Might as well continue to Brooklyn. I can't get any more wet anyway." Wrong.

Have you ever peed your pants? Don't lie to me. You know how right when you start peeing you think "This actually isn't that bad. At least it's sort of warm and pleasant-feeling."? Then a split second later you think, "Shit, this is that bad. I'm an adult peeing in my pants." That's what I felt like this morning, only without the first, not-that-bad feeling. This was like wearing a diaper made of snow. This was that bad.

We're Gonna Need Some Help This Week

Back in 2006, when I was a wee college babe with no marathon plans and far too many beer-drinking plans, my friend Ryan (now husband to Maddy, of Southern California fame) was training for his first marathon - Boston. As a recent college grad with a classroom full of high school psychics dorks to teach during the day and papers to grade (okay, and beers to drink) at night, Ryan sometimes found it tough to get out there and train for the race. What fired him up is the video below, which is what helped motivate me to get out there in this dreary weather this morning:

If you need a little something to get you going today (or tomorrow, Thursday, or Friday, given the forecast for the rest of this week), I hope this helps you get your sneaks on your feet and move your keister, Meester! (Once you do that, you will feel less guilty about having a slice of chocolate cake with your breakfast which is what I'm doing. Happy Birthday, Caroline!)

Happy Tuesday!


P.S. He actually teaches physics, not psychics, but the latter is funny to think about...

Sunday Wrap Up: The Week That Required I Nap for 2 Hours on Sunday Afternoon

I got the following text from my mom this afternoon (she's tech saavy):

"Just ckg in. If I have your blog & tweets straight, yr feet are good, yr chest is bad, work sucks, beer restores yr faith in mankind. About right, or any key updates I should know?"

Hit the nail on the head, Momster.

Another gorgeous late winter (can we say "early spring" yet?) morning in Manhattan, so against my better judgement, I let I-man convince me that I should accompany him on a 10 miler over the Brooklyn Bridge. So. Tough. What I first judged to be a gorgeous sunny day was actually a blistering and scorching morning that turned my long sleeved shirt into a greenhouse for my torso and arms. While we got a brief break from the sun when the running path passed under the elevated highway, once we turned into Chinatown we were accosted by a pervasive smell of raw seafood I don't recommend anyone experience while running. The crest of the bridge was especially tough on me today after yesterday's VFF run, so I was deliriously happy once we made it over to Brooklyn and back again. Until I almost stepped on a dead pigeon.

I stayed awake just long enough to shove a bagel into my gullet, the promptly passed out for 2 hours. About that grocery shopping... so not happening today. While I'm glad I got to spend so much time enjoying the weather this weekend, I'm definitely looking forward to a rest day tomorrow.

On to the wrap up!

Number of Miles Run This Week: 31. Oops. That is not 20.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: Man, that's a loaded question. Because I got loaded this week. Yesterday - I'm guessing 8. Friday - 0 (stuck with wine because the restaurant didn't have American beer on draft). Thursday - 2 because I hated work. Wednesday - 1. Tuesday - Not too sure. Let's say 2? Monday - 0. I have some standards, after all. So another 13-beer week. Good thing I upped the mileage...

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: This American challenge thing is turning out to be an awesome exercise - I've tried so many great beers I'd ordinarily overlook in favor of my old standbys! Finished off the Smuttynose Winter Ales, tried Mother's Milk and Yuengling Black and Tan for the first time, as well as enjoyed some Saranac Pale Ale, some Sierra Nevada, and a couple of Bud Heavies for good measure. As I think about all the beers I've tried this week, I have to think I've had more than 13 beers. One of the problems with tracking one's weekly beer intake is that, by nature, beer intake makes you forget things. Like how many beers you've had over a 7 day period. I should do something about that.

Excellent segue to the weekly goals!

1) Make note of what beers I have had and when I have them. Maybe I should just just them down in my Outlook! Then people at work will just think I'm really busy and diligent, with appointments throughout the night, but really they'll just be notes about my drinking habits. Visible to my colleagues. Yeah, maybe that's not the best way to do this...

2) Continue drinking only American beers. The Olympics comes but once every 2 years. I owe it to my country, since my whole career as a biathlete never panned out:

3) I'm going to aim for 25 this week, with no single distance goal. I-man keeps threatening that I'm going to run a BQ at the Ocean Drive Marathon in March (which I guess isn't what most people would consider a threat, since a BQ would rule), but I'm not registered and have no concrete plans to do so. Until the moment I do register, which may or may not come, I am going to continue assuming my next race is a half marathon in Nashville in April. Though according to Born to Run, statistically, one's running improves until the time s/he is 27 years old, at which point you're headed back downhill. Which means if I've going to run a BQ, I better get on it in the next 51 weeks...

Off to dinner at Kelly and Juan's. Juan, by the by, told me last night he heard I ran Surf City hungover. I don't know where he got that idea, which obviously isn't true, but he seemed very impressed, so I'm not going to go out of my way to correct him.

I hope everyone had a great weekend and got to enjoy some great weather where ever you are. Spring is coming, guys, I swear.

xoxo,

3:59:59. Bitches.

Beautiful Barefoot Saturday

After taking no fewer than 20 Tums yesterday (I wonder how serious they are about the whole "do not exceed 10 tablets in 24 hours" thing?), I was still suffering from tightness in my chest. You know things are bad when I abandon a drink, but that's exactly what happened; after dinner last night I was feeling so uncomfortable that I said goodbye to the fine folks at PJ Clarke's and headed home early, glass still half full on the table. Fortunately, I did make a useful discovery; KD suggested my pain might be a muscle pull, and though I woke up with it this morning, I popped a few Advil and it's now much more manageable. So at least we know I'm not having a 36 hour heart attack.

After the Advil kicked in this morning, I decided to kick off my morning with a run in the Vibrams. The weather is just gorgeous this morning, so I figured I'd test some boundaries and take them out for an actual run, as opposed to the wimpy 1- and 2- milers I'd tried in them thus far.

Whoa, that makes my legs look like Go, Go Gadget Legs! and my feet look like monsters. Which they are. Anyway, I set out for a 4 miler this morning in the KSOs and felt really good. Whereas my first outdoor run in them had me hobbling by the turn of the first corner, I still felt strong at the turnaround point. So strong, in fact, that I considered continuing downtown, but thought it best not to push too hard. Good choice, since my calves were ready to call it quits about a half mile before I was actually back at my apartment. But on the whole, a good one.

I tried to test the Keep-Stuff-Out-edness of the KSOs this morning by splashing through puddles and striding over gravel. Turns out they work! The one major difference I did notice, however, was that these are tough on downhills. I guess because you're already on the balls of your feet coming downhill, so the barefootedness of the Vibrams really amplifies that. I felt a few hot spots developing on the balls of my feet as I came down.

Am still hoping to get down to the Brooklyn Bridge tomorrow even though I've already hit my mileage for the week, but we'll see if I can walk fully upright by then.

Happy Saturday!

Heart Attack-ack-ack-ack

First off, whoa! Yesterday brought tons of new readers and commenters to Will Run For Beer. Welcome! And thanks to @multisportdad and @TheBeerRunner for the shout out on Twitter. I owe you for expanding readership beyond my mom and her book group.

Second: I woke up around 4:00am today with unbearable heartburn, which I'm sure has nothing to do with the fact that I had beer and Tostitos for dinner last night (though is potentially related to my chicken-finger-and-French-fry lunch yesterday...). I tossed and turned for the next hour, weighing all my morning options, which included just getting up and going to the office early. This plan made my heartburn worse, however, so I decided to get in a quick run down to the Williamsburg Bridge (sorry, Brooklyn! I promise I'll come back this weekend!).

By and large the morning was uneventful, and because I was earlier than usual, the running path was pretty deserted. I did get in stride with one guy who caught up to me at a traffic light, and spent an awkward mile or so running side-by-side with him in dead silence, neither one of us wearing headphones, and neither one changing the pace. I considering feigning injury if only to extract myself from the situation. Then I thought it might be funnier if I pants-ed him. Then I thought I probably shouldn't be allowed to roam the streets alone, since what I think is funny is generally completely inappropriate.

Off to binge eat Tums and hunker down over this grant application until 5:00pm today, when it will either be submitted, or not, in which case I will have wasted a week's worth of 11 hour days at the office. So that's cool. In the wise words of my boss "man, that's totally gonna suck."

Happy Friday, kids! Drink responsibly, run far.

Brew Review: Keegan Ales' Mother's Milk

I'm gonna come right out and say it: why in God's name would you decide to call a beer "Mother's Milk?" Hell, why would you name anything meant for human consumption Mother's Milk besides actual breast milk? Do you have any idea what kind of freak I felt like when I bought this tonight? The 2 dudes in the beer aisle took a couple steps away from me when I reached for this six pack. I swear to you, I very nearly didn't buy it because of that horrifying name. Get the marketing people at Keegan Ales on the horn; I gotta speak to someone about this. Jesus.

Anyway, here I am at home with Mother's Milk, which heretofore will be known as Badass Beer (if that name isn't already taken by an actual beer, I've got dibs on it!):

You'll note I didn't wait for you to begin sampling. Anyway, I selected Badass Beer tonight because a) I love stout, b) I promised I'd only drink American beers this week, and c) I couldn't pass up an opportunity to rip on the single worst name for a product I can imagine. Seriously. No one who's getting stinking drunk wants to think about all the love and energy and support their mother put into their upbringing, only to have it washed away with a game of flip cup. It's like naming a condom after your dad. HOLY GOD I WISH I HAD NOT JUST SUGGESTED THAT. (takes deep swig of Badass Beer).

When I poured a pint of Badass Beer, I was delighted at the rich color (true story: I squealed aloud). For me, the closer a beer resembles coffee (or Diet Coke, depending on your caffeinated beverage of choice), the more I like it.

I should stop here for a quick note on stouts: lots of people, and particularly lots of young women I know, are put off by stouts. Generally, I feel that's their loss and means more for me. But when I'm feeling magnanimous, I'll try to point out that dark color and intense flavor aren't necessarily related; in fact, it's the copper and amber ales, like IPAs, that have the most bitter and hoppy tastes. And this whole nonsense of stouts filling you up more is ridiculous; ladies, I've watched you consumed entire 30 racks of Bud Light, so don't tell me about being full from a couple pints at PJ Clarkes. No one ever believes me though, so I'm free to drink the tap dry.

So, back to the Badass Beer: I poured myself a pint and squealed with delight at the color. I took the first sip... and the second, because I was thirsty after my walk home... and was very pleased with the results. A little chocolatey. Mellow. Like a warm hug. From your Mom. Oh my God, it all makes sense! Still, bad name.

The one thing I will say about Guinness over other stouts (full disclosure: Guinness is my favorite beer) is that the head sort of makes the experience. After you get that Guinness mustache, the whole drinking process is that much better. The whole pint seems thicker and warmer. And it doesn't have a name that makes you want to pull an Oedipus.

In summation, thanks to the Hudson Valley's Brewery for giving me something to brighten up my night. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to finish this grant application, which should get better and better as I work my way through this sixer. If you don't hear from me in the morning, it's because I stayed up working too late to get up for a run.

It Can Only Get Better From Here

"What a week! Sorry? What's that you say? It's only Thursday morning? And Monday was a holiday?! You mean I've only been to work two days this week?! Impossible. Really? Shit. I don't know if I'll make it. I'm serious this time. It's going to be touch and go. Two more days? And they're going to be brutal? Well shit."

After a grueling day at the office yesterday, I thought I should get things off to a good start this morning before they start going down hill yet again. I watched that Chris Bryant video below about 43 times (and if you haven't, what in God's name are you waiting for? Kid is A-MAZING. Word) and got myself out the door for a run.

I had planned to take it easy to the Brooklyn Bridge for a 7 miler but when I got out there, I made an amazing discovery: for the first time since I've been an East River runner, the riverside path was open beyond just a few hundred yards!* Never one to miss an opportunity to blaze a new trail, I gave up my Brooklyn plans and set out across uncharted (by me) land.

And so without traveling anywhere, I ran in a place I'd never run before. It reminded me of my first marathon, in DC. I remember getting to the 20 mile mark and thinking to myself, "Whoa, I've never run this far before." I could have kept saying that for the next 6.2 miles. Actually, I probably did because my coping mechanism for those last 6.2 is to constantly repeat a phrase in my head until I'm so distracted I can think of nothing else beside flopping my legs onto the ground in front of me one at a time. I'm sure that's how Kara Goucher does it too...

Anyway, it's a cool feeling (not the last 6.2 miles. That's a horrible feeling - a combination of utter exhaustion, unbearable stiffness, and imminent diarrhea). And so I'm going to use that feeling to power me through today. And if that doesn't work, I'm going to come home from work tonight and drink heavily. Just so you know.

Have a great day, kids. Here's hoping we survive it.

* For context: South of 14th Street, the East River path forks. One path runs flush with the River, while the other runs flush with the highway.

What's Firing Me Up This Morning

Going to the Gym After Work Makes Me Want To Punch a Baby

I should preface this story by telling you that, when I arrived at the gym tonight shortly after 7:00pm, I already had a chip on my shoulder. I had been at my desk for 11 solid hours, getting up only to go to the bathroom and open the door when the delivery guy brought me lunch. Of those 11 hours, no fewer than 9 required dealing with idiocy, poor time management, and generally buttfaced behavior. As such, I was in no mood for the d-bag chatting on his cellphone and blocking the check-in desk, absent-mindedly using his fingers to further spike his frosted-tips (sir, the next season of The Real Housewives of New Jersey is taping across the Hudson. Please see yourself West). Nor did I have much patience for the girl who proclaimed, from the bathroom stall, to her friend standing at the sink in the locker room, that she would totally date Joey if he were the Joey he had been in high school, or even college, but not the Joey he is today, because that Joey is totally not the same Joey, and it seems like he's getting less mature with age. First of all, I'd date Sean Verlin if he were the Sean Verlin of high school, but unfortunately that's not a possibility. Second of all, there's an available guy downstairs talking on his phone if you're looking for companionship. Frosted tips, on the phone - you can't miss him.

When I finally navigated my way back downstairs to the treadmills, I had to wait about a minute for one to free up. Pleased to find I was the only one waiting, I was eager to get in a nice hour-long run. Until about 20 minutes in, when there was a line of at least 10 people waiting to get on the next available treadmill. I curse you, 30 minute time limit! And hey, New York Sports Club: I dare you to run 7 marathons while training in 30 minute increments. That's right - I dropped the "7 marathons" line. What are you going to do about it?

So then, 3 1/2 miles later, I was summarily ejected from the treadmill, a running hero cast aside like a modern-day Zola Budd (okay, I may be veering too far into the realm of fantasy tonight. I can't help being impassioned). "Fine," I thought. "I won't let The Man hold me down." So I went upstairs to lift.

Except that when I got there, there wasn't a single spot on the mats for me to lie down for a nap. I mean to do sit-ups. Whatever. The point is, I hate the gym after work. I hate the crowds, I hate the restrictions, and I hate how they don't offer you a beer when you walk in. I've had a long day. Is a little hospitality so much to ask?

I Guess I'm Not Paralyzed After All

Okay, I did it. I dragged myself to the gym after I had exhausted all other (sedentary) options: paid bills, sent emails, made phone calls, and looked at pictures of bears and birds and bridges (oh my!) from my surprise hiking excursion yesterday. After I could stand to watch Teen Mom no more, I put on my Asics (and packed my Vibrams) and headed to the gym.

I was pleasantly surprised that the gym wasn't very crowded, despite it being a Monday night. There was one freak bounding on a treadmill nearby, but blissfully he finished shortly after I arrived and I didn't have to deal with any idiocy aside from my own.

I started off in the DS Trainers and immediately regretted leaving my couch. My calves were still so tight despite an afternoon spent with The Stick. But I pushed through and by mile 2 my legs were starting to loosen up. I ran 4 in the Asics in 34:04, then switched to the Vibrams for one last mile. I felt my calves start to tighten up after I switched, and at one point my left arch got tight, but it seems to work itself out. Left pinky toe was much less disagreeable than my Saturday VFF run. I was expecting to find some hot spots or blisters when I finished because I felt some rubbing in the spots where the sleeve of the shoe meets the top of the foot, but had no irritation anywhere.

When I got home I was ravenous. Unfortunately, we don't have a wide selection of cereal bowls, so I had to be resourceful:

I love Cheerios.

Monday Wrap Up: These Long Weekends Really Throw Off My Schedule

Excuse me in advance for not having more mileage to analyze with you here today. Though I had an expectedly light week last week for recovery, I'd hoped I'd have another run today to talk about. If only my calves weren't in serious agony that had me barely able to stagger from the couch to the kitchen this morning, let alone go for a run. I don't know if these Vibrams were such a good idea. Or at least I definitely made the right decision in waiting to try them out until after Surf City.

I'm spending some quality time with The Stick right now in hopes that I may make it to the gym later tonight. In case you don't know about it, The Stick is the best invention ever. It's a stick with handles and a bunch of fat, Rigatoni-shaped beads that you roll across your aching parts. Being that I'm always looking for the coolest, most-highly regarded running tool (and that money burns a hole in my running shorts), I invested $32.99 in this glorified summer camp arts & crafts project and am thrilled with the results. I think the song "Hurts So Good" was written by someone who was going to town on his legs with The Stick after a particularly tough run.

On to the Wrap Up:

Number of Miles Run This Week: 10. Number of Miles Run in VFFs this week: 2. Number of Days Post-VFF Run My Calves are in Agony: 2. And counting.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 13. Eek, the dreaded more-beers-than-miles week. On the plus side, at least I've cut down on the buttermilk intake.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Nothing new for me, but I did indulge in a diverse selection of brewsies this week. 2 Sierra Nevadas, 2 Sam Adams (meh, over them), 2 Negra Modelos (delicious), 2 Saranac Pale Ales (thanks Liza!), a Bud Light, a Guinness, a Palm (left over from a previous expedition to find new beers), and 2 Smuttynose Winter Ales.

As for this week, I guess I should get back to setting some goals:

1) 20 miles for the week. Shit, it's Monday already? I better work this Stick until my calves are numb and I can get them moving on the treadmill tonight.

2) Another run in the VFFs. Assuming I can walk fully erect at some point this week. And that's a definite unknown.

3) In the spirit of the Olympics, I will only drink beers from America. Suck on that, Canada!

Much as I've enjoyed catching up this afternoon, I've got a weekend bag full of dirty running clothes, an unmade bed, and a closet full of clothes that needs to get themselves to the dry cleaner one way or another. And given my hobbling gait, that will take me awhile. Wish me luck at the gym tonight!

VFF Review: Now With 100% More Running!

After spending two days sitting on my couch drinking beers while wearing the KSOs, I figured I should probably road test my new gear. Actually, I was a eensy-weensy bit hungover this morning and was hoping I-man would get hit with an uncontrollable urge for bacon, but alas he put on his full body spandex suit and VFF Classics and gave me dirty looks until I couldn't think of any other ways to procrastinate. "Dude, I ran a marathon 6 days ago!" didn't get much traction with him. Lame.

Anyway, we hit the road and within a few blocks, I could feel a crazy difference. Despite everything I've read on other running blogs and heard from running friends, I thought for some reason I might be immune to the crazy calf tightness that comes with the first few VFF runs; because of all the snow we've had in Gotham City, my past several runs outside in my DS Trainers have been on the balls of my feet, so as to avoid slipping on the ice and an awkward ass-breaking (an injury with which I'm all too familiar). Despite that, running in the VFFs was like nothing I've ever felt - SO much calf work! The run itself wasn't painful, though my left pinky toe seemed to be protesting inside his little pinky toe pouch, but I was very conscious of how much harder my calves were working today as compared with regular runs.

I went about 2 miles and didn't time myself in an attempt to embrace the Zen-ness that is the barefoot movement, so I don't know how if at all the VFFs altered my pace, but I do think I ran with better posture because of them. I was a little disappointed that nobody stopped me to say "Oh my God, what's on your feet?!" Maybe I should have gotten those fuschia ones...

I'll get in a run in the DS Trainers tomorrow and see how the calves are doing then. Until then, I think the bacon urge is finally here!

Back in the Saddle

Because of lingering travel difficulties (or generally good will... though likely the former), my office doesn't open until 11:30 this morning. Again faced with unanticipated free time, I was eager to make the most of it. Unfortunately, the gym is still closed, and so my new Fivefingers are nestled in their box, waiting to get some use. In the interim, I decided to set out for my first post-race run.

I hit the streets as opposed to the East River running path this morning, figuring that the shovelers and salters and plowers had probably made more headway on the oft-traveled sidewalks. While I still had to tread carefully because of ice and snow, things were remarkably clear given the snowpocalypse we were hit with yesterday. I ran the same route I took for my last run in NYC before I left for California last week. Everything is still where it should be.

When I got home I did a little lifting, having neglected my arms in the weeks leading up to Surf City. Okay, and because so far no one who has viewed the race pictures has complimented my arm definition and I'm that narcissistic.

I'm thinking of throwing the VFFs in a bag today so that, if I happen to pass the gym on the way home from work, and if it happens to be open, I will happen to have my gear and can test them out. (Shockingly, Exercise TV was sort of a bust yesterday, so I'm not counting that as my first official barefoot workout).

I have a sneaking suspicion I'm going to get distracted watching the Today Show and eating breakfast and generally playing and will forget about work altogether. Perhaps I should shower now so when that inevitably happens at least I can just throw on clothes and think of a believable excuse as to why, when we had an extra 90 minutes this morning, I was still late to work. Wish me luck!

Things To Do on a Snow Day (Or, A Running-Free Review of Vibram FiveFingers)

The irony that I spent 4 days in Southern California last week and it rained for three of them has not escaped me, least of all today, as the flakes build to feet of snow outside my apartment here in Manhattan. Even my office closed early (and as I-man is quick to point out, “AIDS doesn’t take a vacation”)! While I don’t necessarily think we were released at 3:45 today so we could take to the streets to go shopping, I couldn’t help but take advantage of this rare afternoon of freedom by dipping my (mangled, blistered, black, and generally manky) toes back into the running tide. Behold, Fivefingers:

Another perk of getting out early means you can start drinking early...

As you know if you're a reader of this blog, I first discovered VFFs a few months ago when I spied them on two women out for their morning run along the same path I take. From there, I-man snagged himself a pair and has been a devotee ever since. I had put off converting for the sake of Surf City, not wanting to be tempted to try them in the middle of marathon training. But that is water under the bridge now, and these are like little hugs for each of my toes.

Paragon carries VFFs, though they are hidden away in the "Outdoor Footwear" section on the Second Floor, far removed from the familiar basement level running shoe department. I first opted to try on the Classic, figuring that I might as well get a feel for barefoot running in the most basic of barefoot shoes ("basic barefoot shoes" is the weirdest phrase I've ever written). I stripped off my boots and socks and sheepishly planted my bare foot in all of its weather and stumpy-nailed glory on the Vibram-specific measurement mat. A 42!

The sales guy returned with the brightest of fuschia shoes that drew stares of nearly everyone in the department. "What are those for?!" "What are you going to do with them?" Well, in theory I'm going to run in them. Or at least I'm going to try.

In addition to being more of a spectacle than I was looking for, the Classics also weren't very comfortable. The 42s were too big, but even in a 41, the heel still felt loose, and the sole wrinkled when I pointed my feet. I took some steps and felt like the Classics would fly off my feet if I were actually running. I was quickly getting discouraged.

Sales Guy suggested maybe I try on a men's 41, and returned from the back room with a pair of KSOs. I had read that this model was harder to fit and was skeptical when I put them on, but they felt so much more comfortable than the Classics. But was I cheating by getting a pair that are more classically shoe-shaped? After hemming and hawing, trying on and taking off, and trotting around the floor to the bewilderment of store goers looking for snow boots, I decided to go with my gut and my foot comfort and get the KSOs. After all, isn't the whole point of barefoot running to do what your feet want?

Because I've done a fair amount of reading and research on the VFFs, I've learned that new converts run the risk of "over-enthusiasm." Apparently you can't just go out there are knock off 5 miles the first time you wear them, and I have no intentions of abandoning the Asics DS Trainers; they've gotten me through 7 marathons, so they can't be all bad. But I'm gradually familiarizing myself and my feet with my future BFF VFFs (not that the weather is particularly conducive to a test run anyway). I'm taking the night to just walk around my apartment and get used to the feeling. In the coming days, I hope to take them to the gym to do a mile or so and see how they feel. In the meantime, I see Caroline has found Exercise TV on Demand, so maybe my first VFF endeavor will be "Bootylicious Buns 2," which sounds more like an adult film title than an exercise video. Anyway, I look forward to reaping the benefits of barefootness and will update on my exploits soon!

Monday Wrap Up: Because I Went to Sleep at 8:20 Last Night

So I take it you heard the news (thanks to my Twittering team for doing their part to update the community of New York-based runners and my Mom on my progress yesterday): another sub-4:00 marathon. They don't call me 3:59:59 Bitches for nothing (no one actually calls me that, but feel free to start).

Despite my successful completion of yesterday's race, I think it was one of the more brutal marathons I've run. I was struggling early on and gained 17 minutes on my first half split. I'm embarrassed I even had to write that, because it was both stupid and unnecessary for me to run a 1:48 first half, and as a result, I certainly paid for it.

The actual finish breakdown makes me look much more bad-ass than I am. 30th in my age group? Top 150 women?!

Overall:	555 out of 2349
Women:	146 out of 961
F 25-29:	30 out of 165
Age/Grade:	58.04% Place: 614
Finish:	3:53:20 Pace: 8:54

As I mentioned when I blogged on Marathon Eve, the Expo was not the most informational or organized of race events. As it turns out, neither was the race itself:

Getting to the Race: Once we got a handle on road closures and the like, getting to the Huntington Beach Pier from Long Beach was pretty seamless (thanks Maddy!). It did require, however, that we leave the house at 4:40am (fun fact: it's currently 4:46am, but since I went to bed so early last night, I was done sleeping by like 4:00). We were able to pull right into the event parking lot and found it had plenty of spaces and was close enough for me to walk from the car to the start. The sweet parking also meant I could stay warm in the car with Maddy and Megan until 6:00am, eating a banana and listening to Miley Cyrus to fire me up.

The Start: Because the race started right at the beach, runner's had access to beach bathrooms in addition to the standard PortaPotties. I cannot overstate the awesomeness of this. To have access to flushing toilets at the start of a marathon, when every single participants is digesting their pasta dinner, was awesome. In addition, the lines were virtually non-existent; I was able to go to the bathroom twice before lining up for the start.

Unfortunately, everything else about the start was pretty terrible. The race corrals, of which there were only three, were labeled "7:00/mile pace (Sub-3:00); 9:00/mile pace (Sub-4:00); 10:00/mile pace (5:00 or longer)." Not only does that math not make sense (a 10:00/mile marathon is about a 4:20 finish), but for a race with 2000 participants, there were about 20 people in the first corral, and 990 in each of the last two. As such, the race officials tried to break these start groups down further on the fly; within each corral, a single race official tried to send us out in waves of a couple dozen at a time. This resulted in people crossing the starting mat and therefore initiating their chip time, and then being called back. Utter chaos.

The Course: The first 8 or 9 miles of the course took us from the beach side start into residential neighborhoods and then a park with paved trails. By mile 3, I already had to pee, but I looked around for a place to duck off the road and found that cops blocked every side street. Furthermore, no one else was making a roadside pit stop. Californians are so modest!

The first group of PortaPotties I passed were at the base of a climb. Disinterested in stopping to pee only to start back up a hill, I pressed on. By mile 5, I knew I had to stop at the next PortaPotty I saw. Unfortunately, this grouping was also at the base of a little climb. In addition, it was at the start of a hairpin turn, and set close to the road, a fact I didn't realize until I very nearly took out a fellow runner when I opened the door.

On the plus side, the course volunteers for the first 9 miles were all elementary school-aged kids, who said adorable things like "Keep Running!" to cheer us on. I also cracked a smile when we passed an elementary school band playing the theme from Peter Gunn, which I once played in band myself.

I had a Gu at mile 7, just under an hour into the race, and mentally rationed my two remaining packets. And then heard the dreaded foil-on-pavement sound as I lost one at mile 9. The worst. On the plus side, the 9 mile mark was the start of a double out-and-back along the beach, which in and of itself wasn't on the plus side, but it meant I got to see Maddy, Megan and Ryan 4 times. When I first saw them shortly after 9 (and Megan ran with me for a bit), I was fired up for a mile or so. But as I mentioned, I was exceedingly foolish in my pacing, for absolutely no reason. I could tell by mile 12 that my pace was unsustainable, but it took so much out of me that when Ryan joined me for a few minutes between 14 and 15, I told him "This is getting ugly fast." Ryan talked me off the ledge, ran me to the top of what was essentially the last hill of the course, and sent me on my way.

As for the course layout itself, miles 9 to 12 were in one direction on Pacific Coast Highway along the beach, 12-16 were in the other direction, then 16-21 zig-zagged back again, this time bringing us down to a running path right on the beach, and 21-25 back up that same path before we cut back to PCH and to the finish line. While it was breathtakingly beautiful, with surfers dotting the HUGE waves and dogs playing on the beach, I was hurting so much that I didn't fully take in the views until about mile 24. All the out-and-back-ing was pretty tedious, but truly I was so focused on just getting the race done that I didn't have a lot of time to think about poor course planning.

Because we were along the beach, we had access to plenty of beach bathrooms - again, a godsend for anyone with a shaken-up marathon stomach who can't bear the thought of braving a PortaPotty that's been decimated by 2000 other runners, 23 miles into the race. At one point, I did stop to pee again. As I sat down (say what you want about public restroom sanitation and sitting on a toilet seat, but I dare you to try to squat and hover after 23 miles) and thought to myself "I could actually just fall asleep in here right now."

Blissfully, at 23 I realized I probably wasn't going to die, and took this fact to heart. It was my birthday! I didn't have to kill myself! I had 7 whole minutes to spare and still come in until 4:00! These cheerful thoughts actually sped me up for the last mile or 2.

Coming down the finish chute, I spied Maddy and Megan in the crowd (Maddy has had primo chute positioning in the last 2 races of mine she's come to), and was obviously excited by this fact:

(You can't really tell in this picture, but my bib says "Bday Girl!!" on it, which I thought would garner a lot of "Happy Birthday!"'s from the crowd, but actually got a lot of cheers for either "Baby Girl!" or "Bidet Girl!" neither of which are particularly motivating nicknames.)

The Finish: Things were much more organized at the finish than they were at the start. After collecting my medal (perhaps the best one I've ever received, and probably the hardest won), my Mylar blanket, a bottle of water, and a pre-packed plastic bag of fruit, pretzels and a granola bar, I made my way to the spot I'd planned to meet the crew.

Another flaw of the expo was that there was no information on a designated "Family Meeting Area," so you were either left to fend for yourself, searching through 20,000 Marathon, Half-Marathon, and 5-k runners and their families for your party, or have some familiarity with the area and pick a meeting spot. Fortunately, we had the latter, having gone to the Hyatt at the finish line the previous day for a cup of tea after the Expo, so we planned to meet on the Hyatt lawn. This also worked out for me because I got to use the Hyatt's bathroom to wash my face and generally get my life in order, having run 26.2 miles.

My knee felt fine for the duration of the race, but taking off my shoes at the finish was a different story. I'll spare you the photos, but suffice it to say my toes took a beating. Thankfully, I had flip flops in my bag, and the four of us were able to relax and enjoy some SoCal sunshine before getting back into the car (or in Ryan's case, back onto his bike. Such an athlete, that one!)

Conclusion: If you don't have two awesome college friends who live in the area and an awesome high school friend to fly down to support you, and other things to do while you're in the area, I'd say don't run this race. Totally disorganized. Though you forget a lot of that when you're staring at palm trees and surfers and sunshine. And the most amazing medal ever:

As for the Wrap-Up, I'll try to keep it short:

Number of Miles Run This Week: 35

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: In reverse order - 5 yesterday, because it was my birthday, the Super Bowl, and I ran a marathon; 0 Saturday because I am a responsible runner; 2 Friday because I'm not that responsible; 3 Thursday because I was on vacation; 0 Wednesday because I had to wake up so early to go to the airport; 0 Tuesday for no good reason, which means I should have had one; 1 Monday over dinner with Ryan, because we also drank $15 glasses of wine. Ouch. Anyway, that's 11. What a slacker. Don't fret; I'll need to drink a fair amount this week just to keep warm back in NYC.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: True to my word, I drank all beers from West of the Mississippi on the trip, excluding the Bud Heavies I put back during the game yesterday. Unfortunately because I am unfamiliar with these Western treats, I don't remember many of their names. One kind had a picture of a red truck on the label, and another had a surfer. Wow, maybe I should be drinking less, not more, given my memory...

Thanks again to all those reading this blog, and to all those who were thinking of me yesterday, and to all those who wished me good luck and/or happy birthday, and to all those who were there with me for the big day. But not to those who don't like beer, because what is wrong with you??

Oh! One last note: Megan and Maddy took TONS of pictures yesterday, and I have plenty of pictures of my non-racing pursuits on this vacation, so stay tuned for evidence of fun times.

With love and thanks,

3:53:20. Bitches.