Monday Wrap Up: Wanamaker Mile Winners - They're Just Like Us!

So Deresse Mekonnen won the Wanamaker Mile at this weekend's Millrose Games. His time? A cool 3:58:58. That's three minutes, fifty-eight seconds, fifty-eight milli (?) seconds. I mention it only because it's similar to my one-time marathon goal: 3:59:59. As in, three hours, fifty-nine minutes, fifty-nine seconds. So, actually, that's not at all similar to my one-time marathon goal. Or to my current marathon goal. Or to any future marathon goal of mine, no matter how lofty. I might as well be comparing running with tennis, that's how little I have in common with Mekonnen. No matter what Us Weekly tells you, (track) stars are decidedly not like us.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 33. Even though that's one more that then number of miles I was slated to run for the week, I edited the scheduled workouts somewhat, which I hate doing. I'm sick of snow and running indoors and constantly rewriting my training plan to accommodate the weather. Okay, and to accommodate my need for fun/alcohol/travel. Why yes, I will exchange 13 miles on Sunday morning for buttermilk biscuits in Boston and 8 miles on Sunday night...

I feel okay about that particular edit, considering I hit my mileage goal for the week and ran a half last weekend when my LSD was only schedule to be 10. But I hate feeling like I was super adherent to the Plan over the summer and was successful with it, whereas this time around I keep getting derailed. First an injury, then lots of traveling, then snow drifts as tall as me... I bet Deresse Mekonnen doesn't have to manage nearly as many stresses and variables. Obviously if I were a sponsored, professional athlete training at altitude in Ethiopia where it hardly ever snows, I would be running even faster than a 3:58 mile. Isn't making excuses for yourself fun?! No...

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 10.

Types of Beer Consumed Last Week: In preparation for my arrival in Boston on Friday night, Caroline made some very thoughtful beer selections for me. The first was Mayflower Porter, in honor of our shared schooling on Mayflower Hill. This was a good beer - very smooth and chocolatey, very little carbonation. Good pick, my small friend! The second was Kennebec River IPA. This came from a place called The Forks, Maine, which even I have never heard of. As IPAs go, this had almost no distinct flavor to it, which is probably because everything in Maine is frozen to within an inch of its life and therefore loses all taste. Is it any wonder I willingly drank Beast Ice as a freshman?

We also had a few drinks at a joint near Fenway (aka mile 25-ish of the marathon, which I naturally pointed out to everyone within ear shot. "Guys! We'll be back here in April! I'll be running and you'll be watching! Should I run right now? Want to see what it will look like when I'm running? It'll look like this, but without the wool coat and wellies. Isn't it great?!"). I enjoyed a Brew Dog Punk IPA from Scotland, which was quite hoppy, but in a pleasant, grassy and grapefruity kind of way. Also, it came in a 22 oz. bottle, which the bartender kept cold for me between glasses, which I enjoyed because it made me feel like I had bottle service.

And now, the news you've been waiting for (unless you follow me on Twitter, in which case you already heard this news last week, but act surprised, okay?): the Spring Edition of "We'll Run For Beer" is happening on Sunday, March 13th at noon, starting in Prospect Park. Want in? Email me at willrunforbeerblog@gmail.com to get on the list (soooo VIP!). Deets coming soon...

On Race Photos, Briefly

You would think, with the number of races I have run, that I'd have mastered the art of looking, well, like somewhat of a runner in my race photos. I'm not talking about cute or skinny or color-coordinated. A runner. A competitive athlete. A badass. A nine time marathoner, Boston qualifier, badass. Sometimes, I succeed in accomplishing this, albeit by stroke of luck and not practiced concentration. See exhibit A, from Saturday's Manhattan Half:

Form looks pretty good (minus that errant left arm going cross-body enough to block my bib...): head is up, shoulders are down, eyes are forward. Shapely quads. No camel toe. All business. All badass.

Sometimes, though, I am a terrible spaz (and if you've been reading this blog long enough, you'll recall my New York City Marathon photos, which were nothing if not evidence that the booze has permanently damaged some brain cells). Exhibit B, below, is another shot from Saturday:

That's me in the background, approaching 1181 with a manic look approximating what happens when a human contracts rabies (don't worry - I've been vaccinated). Hard to tell, but it looks like I'm throwing the double thumbs up, coupled with a shit eating grin. Granted, this wasn't a "race" for me, but that's no excuse to look like a Bellevue escapee. Get it together, Walsh...

The Results Are In!

Some good news from Dr. Hottie yesterday: nothing in my legume is torn! After reading the MRI, he told me I had a "large and significant" bone bruise (not to be confused with a bruise from boning...). He also said "it takes an awful lot of force to get a bone bruise to show up on an MRI this clearly," and I inferred the unspoken second half of that statement, which was "which is why I'm so shocked to see one on yours, since you are so svelte and could not have fallen with much force." But regardless, a bone bruise is what I have, and it will eventually heal on its own. Hooray!

Dr. Hottie did tell me he wanted to be pretty aggressive in helping it heal, however, and prescribed physical therapy 2-3 times a week for the next 8 weeks. Ugh. As someone recently told me, physical therapists are likely failed S&M dominatrices who couldn't handle the outfits (I had to Google the spelling for the plural of "dominatrix"). PT is a pain (literally), but he thinks it will help make sure I'm not compensating for any residual pain and throwing off my alignment as I build mileage.

Some other interesting insights he had: any pain I may feel in the joint while running is just inflammation; I don't need to be worried that I'm doing any structural damage to myself. And, if pain continues or flares back up, we can talk about cortisone injections. I told Cate this, and she cautioned me that cortisone only masks underlying problems. Cate got her medical degree from watching Varsity Blues. Whipped cream bikinis for everyone!

So there you have it. Thanks for playing along at home. I hope to never have to write about my busted knee again. Unless, of course, I slip and fall again today as a result of the additional foot of snow and ice we got overnight. I'm ready for Memorial Day, thanks.

Be safe, stay warm, drink much.

Hills, Take Three

Welcome to Week 5 of training, which is incidentally only the second week in which we at Will Run For Beer are actually able to complete the workouts (fingers crossed). This morning's easy 4 turned into a fast and hilly 5. Tough, but a workout I was happy to get through, for the first time in a long time feeling strong and fast the whole way. Knocked it out at a 7:57/mile pace. Must have been the beers and pizza I had last night. Nootrishunal plan: I haz wun.

Tomorrow's workout is scheduled to be a hilly 7, which I had intended to do before work in Central Park. Alas, a meeting was just dropped on my calendar first thing tomorrow morning, so I'll be resigned to cutting out travel time and staying local for my run, repeating today's route and then some. At what point does running in Prospect Park go from "shit, we're still going uphill?" to "this is having the home field advantage"? Just curious. I mean, I suppose it's better than "shit, is that a drug-addled rapist murderer in the bushes?" which is sort of what I had expected to be asking myself in Prospect Park when I first moved. I'm pretty sure I'm faster than a crack head. Probably. Maybe.

Also tomorrow? A follow up appointment with Dr. Hotness aka the Future Mr. 3:59:59 Bitches. My ailing right knee has been dramatically better in the last week or so, and I hardly noticed it at all during Saturday's halfsy (possibly because I was distracted by a weird phantom shooting pain in my left knee, which also seems to have subsided, thankfully). But I think Dr. The Future Mr. 3:59:59 Bitches had a valid point when we met last week; it may be as simple as an alignment issue, but I'd do well to address it now, rather than grapple with it until April. Slash July.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm spending the evening investigating the entire liquid anthology of the Mendocito Brewing Company. If that's not hill prep, then perhaps I've been doing something wrong...

Sunday Wrap Up: The Return of Racing Season

I ran the Manhattan Half Marathon yesterday. January 21st and it's already racing season. Except for me this wasn't a "race;" given what Dr. Rosen told me last week (the fact that I had an MRI on Friday morning...), I was approaching this race as a "fun run." If you'd consider waking up at 5:00am on a Saturday in 14 degree weather and running 13.1 miles "fun." I wouldn't. So I guess this was really just a "run." Sure, it was different from other runs, because there were 5,000 other participants, but I tried to pretend it was just a really crowded morning in Central Park. And I guess other runs don't involve aid stations offering water and Gatorade, but it didn't really matter that this one did, because the water was frozen in the cups, and anyway I didn't grab a single drink the entire time because I was scared to get my hands wet and have my gloves (that's 2 pairs) freeze onto my hands. Yes really. I saw more frozen facial hair and booger icicles yesterday morning than most of you will ever see in a lifetime. Not that that's a statistic you probably a) keep track of, and b) care to compete over.

Not much to write home about after this race/fun run/torture session. The course was two plus, counter-clockwise loops of Central Park, which I liked because I knew exactly what to expect. I felt really good, especially going up Cat Hill and Harlem Hill, on loop one, and was pleasantly surprised given my tough hill workout on Wednesday. By loop two, though, I started feeling a little niggly pain in my left knee. You'll note that's not the knee on which I had an MRI on Friday. It was especially irksome (dare I say "painful") going uphill, which was a bummer given that Central Park is full of hills. I stopped twice to stretch it out, which was sort of hard since I can't exactly pinpoint where the pain is coming from. I don't think it's anything to worry about; probably just an after-effect of ramping up my miles this week after being sidelined. In any case, it didn't hinder me too much, and I finished with a 1:53.

And while we're on the subject of races (and hills!), I just registered for marathon number 11: the San Francisco Marathon on July 31st. But before that, I have the Colon Cancer 15k in March, Boston in April, RTB in May, and the Fairfield Half in June. So yes, racing season is upon us.

To the wrap up!

Number of Miles Run This Week: 32. That's 26 more miles than I ran last week. That's weird.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 6. That's 4 billion fewer beers than I drank last week. Seriously, I can only go to Chicago once a year because it takes me that long to sober up.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: What I lacked in quantity this week I made up for in quality. Nicole suggested we check out a great beer purveyor in the Slope yesterday afternoon called Bierkraft, and it did not disappoint. In addition to having easily 50 varieties of brews to take home in various quantities (bottles, cans, and growlers, oh my!), Bierkraft also has about a dozen beers on tap, and maybe 10 picnic tables indoors to share with your fellow beer swillers.

I tried two great beers from Michigan's Founders Brewery; they had maybe 7 Founders' beers on tap, evidently because they'd done an event with the brewery earlier this week (Go Green! Go White!). The first was the Double Trouble American Double IPA. This was a bold pick for an afternoon beer, especially for a gal who's anything but a hophead, but I actually really, really liked this beer. Definitely hop-heavy, but it was blended and well-balanced so as not to rip your tongue out. A little fruity/citrusy scent. Nearly 10% ABV. I love Saturday afternoon beers.

The second was the Founders Centennial, which to me seemed even more hoppy upfront. To me, this was a real classic IPA, which isn't my fave beer, but I actually did enjoy it (read: didn't pound it within 90 seconds of ordering). Could have been the great company, though. Special thanks to Nicole and Cate for a fun Brooklyn afternoon. Looking forward to organizing my next beer run with Bierkraft as the highlight!

Well that's about it from the world headquarters of Will Run For Beer. Headed back to Dr. Rosen this week to get my MRI read and come up with a treatment plan. Stay tuned for updates...

Post-MRI, Pre-Manhattan Half Marathon Notes

Ugh you guys, MRIs are the worst! I know being scared of the MRI machine is on par in terms of complete irrationality with my other main fear of electronics - being inside a garage when the overhead door is closing - but I can't help it. Even though I've had an MRI before, I was still anxious this morning, and thus nervously spewing verbal diarrhea to the friendly technician: "Yeah, I fell down hiking. Camping, really. Upstate. In the Adirondacks. Do you like camping? I love the outdoors. I like all kinds of outdoor sports. I like camping, and hiking, and fishing, and skiing, and running..."

As medical procedures go, the MRI is a pretty easy one: lie down for 25 minutes. Don't wiggle. But as soon as the machine starts making noise, I immediately picture some unknown joint screw or metal filling or forgotten bobby pin lured by the super magnets, ripping out of my flesh or crushing my body into the machine above me.

And the noise! You know those car alarms that cycle through four or five different tones? WEE ooh, WEE ooh, WEE ooh, AGH AGH AGH AGH, ooh WEE, ooh WEE, ooh WEE... Being in an MRI is like being inside one of those cars when the alarm is going off. Except the "tones" are more like "random approximations of jack hammers and dentist drills." I hate MRIs.

In other news, I picked up my race bib for tomorrow's Manhattan Half Marathon, which I will be completing as a "fun run," rather than a "race," per the doctor's orders. I'm not complaining though; with another 4 inches of snow overnight last night, a deep freeze tonight, and windchills near zero tomorrow, plus a hilly Central Park course, I wouldn't exactly call this an ideal PR situation. Which is ironic, since when I picked up my bib yesterday (#2275 holla!), I discovered I'll be corralled with those aiming for a 7:30/mile pace. Yeah, for a 10k, maybe. Running 7:30s would be a half marathon PR for me by something like 7 minutes. So... no. But if you're in the yellow corral about to lap a tall girl dragging her gimpy right leg behind her, say hi to me!

Happy Friday. Someone get me a bagel. And a beer. Carbs, bitches.

Who Needs Heroin When You Can Do Hills?

Okay, fine, you got me; I have absolutely no idea what it's like to do heroin. The hardest drug I've ever done is Vicoden, and even then it was prescribed to me after surgery. But after my run last night, I legit felt high.

The assignment was 6 miles of hills, but given my recent injury, I haven't been following the plan too judiciously. Still, I've finally been feeling good on my runs (as of... Monday), and after Dr. Hottie gave me the go ahead on Tuesday to keep running, I figured I might as well give the scheduled workout a shot and adjust the run depending on how my knee felt.

Once again, I was left to my own devices in terms of the speed and incline of this (treadmill) hill run. Whereas last time, I took an increase-and-step-back approach, last night I decided to adopt a more straightforward "go up a hill" plan with respect to the grade.

A word on grades on the treadmill: unless you have access to the Nike Oregon Project training facility, chances are you don't have access to a fancy, bad ass treadmill that allows you to run downhill. On a regular, run of the mill (ha! pun!) treadmill, you can:
1) run uphill, either more or less steeply, or
2) run on level terrain.
So then it annoys me greatly that the little graph of red dots the treadmill displays to indicate incline comes out hill shaped: increasing on one side, then decreasing on the other. At no point last night, or ever on a treadmill, did I run downhill, jerk! I ran uphill. For 6 miles. Show me a graph with a line that rises from lower left to upper right, whereby the x axis indicates time, with segments of more severe slope. m=(y2-y1)/(x2-x1). Bitches.

Anyway, back to the task at hand. I decided I'd increase my incline each mile for the first 3 miles, then decrease my way back down. I started at 2.5%. By the time I got to 5%, I was resisting the urge to grab onto the top of the treadmill display and hold on for dear life. I also prayed no one I knew happened upon me, given how badly I was sucking wind. I watched the minutes tick by (which took longer than usual, on account of the fact that when you're dying, you can't run very fast...) and breathed an audible sigh of relief (or a dry heave) when I could finally start ramping back down. Granted, "back down" was still "uphill," but I felt some degree of relief knowing that each notch was taking me closer to level ground.

In all, I climbed 1055 feet. That's the equivalent of 11.98 Heartbreak Hills. And I didn't die! Not only that, I toughed it out when I really, really didn't want to. My knee didn't bother me at all, and my fitness appears to be on the rebound after my running hiatus. My endorphins were flowing like whoa - I was elated! And entitled to a beer, and possibly some Advil. Hard core drug user, right here...

Further Medical Insights From An Actual Doctor/Runner

I'm going to skip the Weekly Wrap Up for last week, given that it's already Tuesday afternoon. But don't fret; you aren't missing much. I ran very little last week, and when I did it was with significant pain in my injured knee. I drank very much last week, but don't remember what. Other things I don't remember? Saturday. Yes, all of it. Though the pictures would indicate I sang karaoke. Aggressively.

While last week was sort of a wash, this week is off to an eventful beginning. After no fewer than five rescheduled and subsequently canceled flights, I ended up with an extra day and night in Chicago. With some unexpected additional time in the Windy City, I decided to test out my knee after a full week of rest with a run in the Lincoln Park Zoo. Total success! No pain to speak of, and I got to see a zebra and a tiger. If you are a runner living in Chicago and you don't run through the zoo at least weekly, something is wrong with you. Why do you hate fun?

When I finally made it back to New York today, I headed straight to the gym for a few miles on the treadmill to make sure I hadn't imagined my miraculous recovery yesterday. Still good! But with an afternoon appointment with the orthopedist already on the agenda, I decided I'd rather be safe than sorry and headed uptown to see him after a shower (okay and I shaved my legs, since he was going to be examining them. Also, he's pretty hot, and I was looking pretty... not.)

A marathoner himself, Dr. Rosen was really understanding of my plight; I qualified for Boston, managed to register in time, and was now stuck logging less than ideal miles while dealing with this on-and-off knee pain and stiffness. He took a few x-rays and upon review told me "your knees look great!" which I interpreted as "good thing you shaved your legs, you saucy minx; let's make out." But he also explained that there can be structural issues an x-ray can't reveal, so he wants to do an MRI. He offered two possible diagnoses:

1) Inflammation from my fall threw off my muscle alignment, or

2) There is a ligament tear within the joint.

The treatment plans for both potential diagnoses at the moment are the same: aggressive anti-inflammatories. If it turns out to be ailment 1, he'll set me up with intensive PT. If it turns out to be ailment 2, we'll talk about where to go from there so I can still make it to Boston.

It seems to me that diagnosis 1 is my preference, but I'm delighted to hear that the doctor is confident I'll be toeing the starting line in April instead of getting stuck on the T for 2 hours trying to get out to the Newton Hills to spectate (not that that experience wasn't delightful, Caroline). The good news is that, either way, he told me I didn't have to stop running. He said I could "jog" to keep my mileage up, which probably doesn't mean "mile repeats," but I'm okay with that since I sort of hate them tremendously. I did ask about the Manhattan Half on Saturday, which he said I probably shouldn't race. The runner in him reminded me "Your goal this season is Boston; don't stress your body over the Manhattan Half." Hot and reasonable! He even asked if I was looking to PR in Boston. When I told him, "well, I had been planning to go for it, but I guess maybe I'll have to reassess now," he said "well don't count yourself out yet; you've got a lot of miles to run between now and then, and we'll get them done on this knee." I think I'm in love.

So there you have it. I'm scheduled for an MRI next week, so I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, I'll keep running. And also whining for people to bring me beers. "My leg - I can't do it myself." The best of both worlds!

Runners' Home Medical Reference

This may come as a surprise to you, but I’m not a doctor. I took human anatomy over the winter term my senior year in college, mostly because I had a tremendous crush on a hockey player in the class, and thus spent both the lecture and lab sessions thinking of reasons to talk to him and cracking crude jokes about what parts of his anatomy I’d like to study (hint: the penis!). Our textbook was called “The Anatomy Coloring Book,” and in addition to the syllabus, students were also asked to bring colored pencils with them to class every day. Yes, I said “senior year in college.” And that one class, crammed into 3 ½ weeks and interspersed with binge drinking and cutting out early to ski, constitutes the extent of my academic understanding of the human body. Otherwise, my knowledge of biomechanics is based entirely on trial and error related to running.

As an athlete, it’s inevitable that at some point in your “illustrious” sporting “career” (still waiting on those sponsor dollars to come through…), you will suffer the misfortune of an injury. In most cases, you see a team trainer to get taped up, or if you’re particularly deformed, a doctor who prescribes PT and Naproxin. But as a semi-serious but non-professional runner, without a team trainer or even a coach, my fellow runners and I fall into a weird self-diagnosing, self-prescribing, de facto medical “expert” category. Maybe it’s because, given all the aches and pains we grapple with, runners couldn’t possibly seek medical advice for everything. So we learn more quickly than most what constitutes a real injury versus a run-of-the-mill soreness. By and large, because running is not a contact sport, none of our injuries results in disfigurement (though we’ve all been known to make contact with the ground on occasion). For us, it’s just a matter of sorting out sprain vs. strain, ice vs. heat, run-through-it vs. drink-through-it. Until, that is, we can’t sort it out on our own.

The trick of it is, every runner has developed his or her own “medical library” of diagnoses, based on their own injury history. For example, last spring when I suffered my first foot injury, I went to a podiatrist, who examined and poked and pronounced I had strained the naviculocuboid joint (that might not actually be a real body part, but regrettably I don’t still have the Anatomy Coloring Book to refer to). Add “how to manage a foot injury” to my mental register. And, when a fellow runner posed the question “what should I do about this weird pain in my foot, just south of my ankle?” I referred back to my acquired and stored medical knowledge (miraculously, there are still a few memory-making brain cells in there despite all the beers) and was able to proffer sound medical advice based on my experience. And in his case, I was even right.

But the limitation is that you’re not always right. Right now, I’m grappling with this IT pain in my right knee. I once went through PT for IT band trouble on the other side, so the runner-medic in me referred back to my mental database and has been applying the same standard of care to my current ailment: ice, stretch, foam roll, walk instead of run. Except that, in talking with other runners about it earlier this week, it turns out their mental databases are full of different info for PT pain, based on their past injuries. What if foam rolling is actually exacerbating a strain? What if walking is just as bad as running, and I should instead be biking? And since my injury isn’t even from running but from falling, maybe my pain isn’t actually from my IT band at all. Basically, I don’t know anything about injury or recovery or how the human body works.

My parents paid $160,000 and all I got was this lousy coloring book.

Monday Wrap Up: The Week That Was Like Buzz's Girlfriend

"Woof."

Been really busy this week throwing myself a pity party over this lingering knee pain. For a few days, I adopted the Monty Python strategy of pain management: denial.

When that wasn't really productive, I decided I should probably just take a few days off. Relax, recover, and ready myself for the next 15 14 weeks of training. (Damn, time sure flies when you have a 26.2 mile foot race approaching and can't run...).

This strategy, of course, also proved quite difficult. As I discovered the last time I was injured, walking is pretty boring. This is still true. I spent an hour walking on the treadmill on Saturday afternoon and swear it felt like 5. Which is, coincidentally, the same number of calories that walking burns.

After strategies one and two failed, I moved onto the third, more practical solution: drink.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: Actually run? About 5. Plus 10 miles of walking. I know I was oohing and aahing over that Haile Gebrselassie video a few weeks back, but I don't think he literally meant "keep walking."

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 20. This week I'm not even exaggerating. I drank 20 beers and only ran 5 miles. I'm either awesome, or horrifying.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Well here's the bright spot in my week. I've been frequenting the Park Slope Ale House of late (I left at 11:30 on Saturday night and was back by 4:00 on Sunday afternoon...), and they have a pretty solid draft selection. This week I particularly enjoyed the Fire Island Frozen Tail Ale, as well as the Six Point Righteous Rye. Special thanks to Elyssa for joining me for Sunday afternoon beers. And for not being too mad when I couldn't stop smiling after her Eagles lost.

So, here we are in week 3 and I've yet to do a long run. My scheduled long run for this Sunday is 12 miles. On Sunday, I'll be in Chicago. The windchill there is 7. Basically what I'm saying is, I am off to a really great start this training cycle...

It's Alive!

Just checking in to let you know that I won't be eligible for one of those bad ass cheetah prosthetic legs. My own one seems to be recovering just fine, albeit slower than I'd like. I took it out for a test drive last night for an easy 3 miler along the Hudson after work. While my IT band got pretty tight after about a mile, it's still attached to the rest of me, which I took to be a good sign (so good, in fact, that I met Leslie for some celebratory beers afterward!). It's still a little tight this morning so I'll be taking another day off, but I'm confident that I'll be considered able-bodied come April. Which in a way is a shame; with one of those cheetah legs, I'd adjust my goal to 2:30 and give my girl Kara Goucher a run for her money.

Isn't recovery beautiful?

(Jason, please don't tell her I just wished to be handicapped so that I could compete with her. I even creeped myself out with that comment...)

Monday Wrap Up: New Year's Eve - 1, Claire - 0

I've spent much of the last week reading the internet (I mean, working hard...), and it seems like every blogger out there is proclaiming their resolutions. Good for them! Goal-setting is important, regardless of the time of year, and going on the record with your goals makes you accountable (see my Boston Marathon goal post. Or don't, because accountability makes me all nervous and sweaty). The thing is, unless your resolution is "bone more," (while a worthy resolution, not one I'm going to commit to publicly, if only because my parents are reading), no one really cares. Telling people your resolutions is like telling people about your dreams, only even more self-indulgent. And probably with less public nudity, unless your resolution is "bone more, in public." If it is, shoot me an email.

Everyone sets New Year's Resolutions, so your specific and personal resolution just ends up becoming white noise. And since no one is listening to your particular resolution over the din of all the other resolutions out there, no one will know you totally DID eat deep fat fried Oreos for breakfast even though you resolved to be a macrobiotic vegan this year. At the end of the day, and certainly by the end of the year, no one remembers your resolution and you're totally unaccountable. Also, if you want to be a macrobiotic vegan, you're also probably totally a dick.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 18. I spent my New Year's Eve camping out in a hunting cabin with some 15 other fun-loving folks. No electricity, no running water - just friends and nature. And alcohol. Lots of alcohol. Which came in handy. Sometime after the sun had set, but before I'd remembered I'd actually packed a headlamp and my YakTrax, I was walking to the outhouse in the dark and absolutely ate it. Completely laid out on the snowy ground by a root. I lay there for about a minute in the dark cold, willing myself not to cry. When I finally picked myself back up, brushed myself off, and hobbled back to the campfire, my right knee had swollen to cantaloupe proportions.

Our first aid supplies were limited to Advil, Tums, and donut holes. Ever the outdoorsman, Nina packed a snowball for me to use as an ice pack. She also force fed me more pills than Lindsay Lohan could manage in a night. And then she kindly opened me another beer. Pretty soon, I was good as new. Except for a horrifying bruise. And limited range of motion or weight bearing. And a possible liver damage from combining 450,000 mgs of ibuprofen with beer.

While I did eek out a New Year's Day run, I was still in considerable pain when Sunday's first "long" run of the training season rolled around. So I bagged it. On the plus side, it was only slated to be 7 miles, and I had already logged an extra three for the week. On the minus side? Breaking from the plan before getting through week one feels pretty crappy. But not as crappy as my leg does.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: Um, 2,011?

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: In scenic upstate New York, you can buy Genny Cream Ale in 24oz cans. This terrifies me, and I avoid it like the plague. But I did drink plenty of Utica Club, whose packaging is either deliberately designed to look retro, or is actually way old. I suspect the stuff just lingers on the shelves collecting dust until some out-of-town urban hipster buy it to be ironic. Either way, it's pretty terrible.

Also worth noting: Nina's parents got me a Christmas present, which would be astoundingly thoughtful and generous regardless of what it was. But they know and love me enough to know exactly what I want and need: a Beeriodic Table of the Elements. I look forward to improving my scientific classification of beers this year!

Let's go back to the busted knee for a moment: I tried to run on it again this morning, which was not the best idea I've ever had. My "run," which is a generous way to describe it, was sad and awkward and pretty uncomfortable. The swelling is mostly down, but the IT band on that side feels super tight. I'd massage it, if it weren't covered by an angry and painful bruise. So I'm sort of in a pickle, eh? (Not like my friend Caroline though). I'm keeping up with the ice and Advil and hoping to be on the mend by the end of the week. Don't judge me if I'm not putting back high miles and quick paces for the next few days. Thanks in advance for your cooperation.

Happy 2011, kids. This year is going to be a big one. Let's try to get through it in one piece, shall we?