Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Cold Beers

My managing director (and fellow marathoner) sent an email to my group this afternoon:


Our super runner Claire is competing in her 12th marathon on Sunday! Please join me in wishing her luck and a lot of beer at the finish line. Good luck Claire!


I responded in kind:

The only reason I keep running them is because they don’t put the beer at the starting line.


Flippant?  Yes. True?  Possibly.

In any case, my short shorts are packed. My Garmin is charged. My homepage is set to Weather.com’s Hampton, NH weekend forecast. My carb reserves are topped off (that actually has less to do with the race than the fact that I love breadthings). By all indications, I’m ready for the Smuttynose Rockfest Marathon.  So without further ado, the goals:

A+ Goal: 3:29:59.  Sub 3:30 eluded me in Boston (to be precise, it got away from me as I passed through Newton) and now it's The One That Got Away.  3:30 is the pace bracelet I'll be wearing on Sunday, and if I come in even one second under 3:30, I would be very, very happy. 

A Goal: 3:30:XX.  There's not a whole lot of difference between my A and my A+ goals, eh?  That's a little nerve-wracking... 

B Goal: Sub 3:33:40.  I picked this race because it's reputed to be a fast course (and, duh, because of the beer).  I feel a little greedy looking for another marathon PR this year, but... I'm looking for another marathon PR this year.

C Goal: Sub 3:48.  I ran a 3:48 on a hilly San Francisco course in July, stopping to take photos, drink a beer, fall down, and bleed on things.  Not in that order.  Barring crippling injury (and we can't rule out the possibility of another mid-marathon dive...), there's no reason I shouldn't be able to run as fast (using "fast" in the relative, not absolute, sense here) on Sunday.

D Goal: Don't shit self.  I'm on an 11-marathon self-defecation-free streak.  I'm hoping not to break it.

Coach Taylor, bring us home:

See you in the beer tent.

A Memo From Will Run For Beer

To: Gift Givers I Know
From: Someone Who Appreciates Thoughtful Gifts
Date: September 27, 2011
Re: My Wish List

The Oxford Companion to Beer is coming out (Amazon says next month, but it was displayed in the Barnes and Noble in the 'Slope as I walked to the train this very morning).  A veritable encyclopedia of mankind's finest intoxicant, the OCB profiles 107 distinct styles of brew, 70 varieties of hops, and the history and culture of beer, as well as provides comprehensive listings of beer musuems, beer festivals, and beer enthusiast clubs (not to be confused with AA chapters...) worldwide.

I must have it.

If you're in a generous and gift-giving mood, please note the following holidays, during which gift-giving is deemed appropriate, if not down-right customary:

Christmas: December 25, 2011
Birthday: February 7, 2012
Valentine's Day: February 14, 2012
Columbus Day: October 10, 2011*

*New for 2011 gift-giving holiday listing.

Sunday Wrap Up: Battle Ready?

With one week before showtime, my Kinvaras are ready to slay:



But am I?

In my quest to run a race a month in 2011, and with time ticking down on September, I decided to "race" this morning's Music That Heals 5k in Prospect Park. Much as I was tempted, I didn't "race" it as a 5k; rather, I toed the line after running 5 miles, and planned to get a little practice hitting just under goal marathon pace. I was aiming for sub 24:00, and I crossed the finish in 23:52. But it felt pretty terrible, and after a fast first mile downhill, I struggled uphill in heat and July-level humidity, self-doubt increasing with every step. "3.1 miles on a course I know and I'm struggling? At this rate, what will next Sunday be like?!"

What did I learn from this? Don't race the weekend before your marathon. Even a 5k, even if you aren't really racing. There's really no need to unleash the taper beasts. But because I did, I look forward to spending the next 6 days nauseous as the seed of insecurity germinates right up until race day, while obsessively checking the weather and praying Fall arrives in New England before next weekend. Isn't running fun?!

Number of Miles Run This Week: 31. The MTH 5k was really well done for a small event. No chip timing, but ample water, post-race food, plenty of volunteers, accurate timing, and a start that might as well have been at my front door. The one drawback (besides my own suckage, I mean) was no fault of the race organizers, but rather the fault of my living in Park Slope, where children are engineered to be driven, collegiate recruitment machines. Just past the 1 mile mark, I came upon a mom and a kid of about 7. They'd probably run about a 7:15 first mile (!) but were rapidly decelerating. The mom was giving some benign advice at first, like "take deeper breaths." But then she started getting specific, about not "slowing yourself down getting boxed in and jammed up." As I passed, the kid must have given some protest, to which the mom replied "well you said you wanted to break 23 minutes!"

Also, I was passed in the finish chute by a woman older than my mom. I pat her on the back and congratulated her after we finished. She did not respond. Park Slopers are cutthroat.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 0. I toasted the Giants victory today with a glass of water. And bar fries, so it's not all bad.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: n/a

Nothing but baby miles this week. Well baby miles and phantom pains, crying jags, uncontrollable eating, pregnancy scares, and trips to PetCo. Spoke too soon about this being an easy taper...

The First of the Marathon Nightmares

The taper does weird things to people.  Some people experience phantom pains.  Some people experience crying jags.  Some people eat uncontrollably.  Some people convince themselves they're pregnant.  Some people invest heavily in aquarium supplies.


I've experienced all of those symptoms in my various tapers (I'm probably the only one who experienced the last two).  This go around, the taper actually hasn't been too bad.  I haven't even felt like I've had a ton of free time on my hands with the drop off in mileage.  In fact, the only taper symptom I've been grappling with has been sleep-related.


During most of the year, sleeping is no problem for me.  I go to bed early, I might get up once during the night to pee, and I wake up in the morning feeling rested.  Well unless I'm hungover, in which case I wake up in the morning with mascara down to my chin, food stains on my pajamas, and the urgent need for Gatorade and something that's been fried and then covered with cheese.

I wish this were photoshopped...

But during the marathon taper, I can't sleep through the night.  Several times a week, I'll find myself wide awake at 3:00 or 4:00am.  Tossing and turning only exacerbates the sleeplessness, so I'll turn on the lights and read for an hour or two.  And then suddenly I'm tired again.  Just in time to sleep for 45 minutes until my alarm goes off.  The pits.

Taper induced insomnia is annoying (also, startlingly common, given how many people are complaining about it on Twitter when I wake up suffering from it myself), but the marathon nightmares are worse.  Last night, for example, I dreamt I was running Boston and finished in 3:33:49.  I was absolutely devastated.

We've got a few problems here.  To begin with, my next marathon isn't Boston; it's Smuttynose, so even my psyche has unrealistic expectations, which can't be a good thing.  But the bigger issue is that my subconscious was crushed  by a time 9 seconds off my PR.  9 seconds.  In fact, I distinctly remember dream-Claire saying "that's slower than I ran it last year!"  9 whole seconds slower.  God, you fat, slow, ugly, unloved, smelly poop for brains!  How could you be 9 whole seconds off your PR?!  Failure!  Quit running for good and focus your efforts on being the world's fattest woman instead.

I wish this were photoshopped... Oh.  

Jedi Mind Games

A great many of my friends well and truly hate running.  They don't want to hate running, of course; it's the only cardiovascular exercise you can do literally anywhere, without anything, so it's a rather convenient one to like.  But they don't.  


They say to me, "Claire, do you really, seriously enjoy running?  How is that possible?  Teach us your ways!"  And I respond in kind: "I do really, seriously enjoy it.  There is no trick.  I just don't think of running as a punishment, but as a privilege."


In addition to being utterly sanctimonious, that's also not true.  Not entirely anyway.  I do really, seriously enjoy running.  And I do think of it as a privilege.  But the part I leave out is that I'm most likely to trick myself into thinking "running is a privilege" when it feels like self-inflicted punishment.


I've never met a runner who doesn't have some tips, tricks, or other means of convincing themselves they love running when they'd rather be getting run over.  Whether it's "you can stop and walk at the next telephone pole" or "you just need to do 15 minutes," runners are nothing if not pathological liars.  I won't stop after 15 minutes; I'll do the 15 minutes and then tell myself "okay, another 10 minutes; that's easy!" and replay the cycle until I've been running for an hour.  It's not punishment so much as a honed ability to inflict self-psychological warfare.  Runners are, in short, sociopaths.  


As you would expect, this sadistic trickery is most prevalent during the marathon.  "Well after 10k, I have fewer than 20 miles left;" "Half marathon to go;" "16.2 miles down - I'm only left with single digits;" "Okay just an hour left;" I've used everyone of those plus literally dozens more to get through races in the past, and have no doubt that I'll employ even more at my next marathon in 10 days (e.g. "The more people you pass now, the fewer people you'll have to wait on line behind to get beer at the finish.")


What you would not expect is that sometimes, I employ this chicanery to get through what should be easy, run-of-the-mill (sometimes literally) miles - the ones that actually should be a privilege.  Take tonight, for example: I did not want to run.  At all.  I had gotten up at 6:30 this morning, having every intention of running, and even donning running clothes.  I wore them to walk to the coffee shop, and to sit on my bed watching the Today Show.  But I had 5 measly, easy miles on the calendar today, so I doffed my unused, miraculously-not-coffee-stained running clothes and tossed them in my work bag.


Then I spent 10 hours wearing really uncomfortable boots and standing up at a cocktail (mocktail, for me, because I'm a loser again) reception (the reception itself wasn't 10 hours, though that would be awesome had I actually been drinking).  When I finally got on the train, I had no interest in running.  I wanted to go home and eat things.  I did not want to punish myself at the gym.


"Just go there; it's on the way home from the subway station and you have your clothes with you."  Fine.  I'd go, but I didn't say anything about running.  Maybe I'd just stretch/foam roll/watch TV.


Upon arrival, I still hadn't found my mojo, but decided I should at least get on a treadmill.  "Even if you walk; even if it's just for 10 minutes."  I walked over to a 'mill.  It displayed an ominous message on its screen: "5 ERRORS."  Strike one.


I moved down the line of treadmills and got on the next one.  "Well, since I'm on it, I'll at least start out running."  I upped the speed to 7.0mph.  The belt got up to about 4mph and then plateau-ed.  I knew I wasn't feeling so awesome that it just seemed that easy.  Strike two.


I moved to a different row of treadmills and selected the only unoccupied one.  Which had a TV that didn't work.  The running Gods were seemingly begging me not to work out.  But I thought to myself "listen to your iPod for a few songs and you can get off or die of boredom in 20 minutes."


20 minutes became 3 miles.  Became 4 miles.  Became 36 minutes.  Became 5 miles.  When  I looked down and realized I'd actually accomplished the workout I was scheduled to do, I almost started laughing.  My Jedi mind powers are incredible.


Now let's just hope I didn't use them all up ahead of next weekend's marathon.  

Sunday Wrap Up: Welcome to Loserville

Population: Claire.

I'm back from Maine, and with it, back to sobriety. I'm not saying you have to drink beer in order to be cool, but... Didn't you go to high school?

Number of Miles Run This Week: 48. I ran some of my best miles this training cycle over the last week. Then I came home from Maine and had to rely on E! reality TV to get through 6 and a half measly miles on the treadmill. Woof. I bounced back somewhat this afternoon, running 14 miles in perfect weather back in Brooklyn. It is unclear how much of the success of that run can be attributed to day 2 of my detox. And I mean seafood detox as much as I mean beer. I don't think deep fried scallops can possibly be considered "fuel." You know what they can be considered? "Awesome."

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: I'd estimate 15. And id be lowballing it. Nothing pairs with deep fried scallops quite like a cold pale ale. Except 4 cold pale ales.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Geary's, Gritty's, Pemaquid, and Andrew's Pale Ales, Allagash White, and Shipyard Export Ale, all from Maine. And I had a Sam Adam's with my previously pictured best lunch ever. That's 7 varieties of beer. And what do you know, I was on vacation for 7 days! Am I the perfect...uh... Beer-related mathematician, or what? Am I the only beer-related mathematician? Likely so.

So, we're now 2 weeks from The Big Dance. No, I'm not in an upcoming production of West Side Story (I wish!). The Smuttynose Marathon is 2 weeks from today. I'm technically a week into my taper and haven't yet gone bananas or acquired new pets (related: Four is still alive even after my week away from him!), but because I had so much free time this past week, I didn't really cut down on mileage either. In fact, I only ran 1 miles fewer this week than last. Still, things will really wind down on the running front this week and next, so I'm trying to preemptively fill my schedule so as not to eat my feelings and/or spontaneously start crying. Tomorrow night, for example, I'll be watching the Giants game. The Giants, in case you don't follow football, have been sucking. So actually, tomorrow I'm quite likely to eat my feelings and spontaneously start crying. Just keep me out of PetCo and I'll consider it a success...

Seen on my Run

I woke up this morning to find the Internet FREAKING OUT about how cold it was back home in NYC.

People?

It was 39 degrees when I woke up in Maine this morning.






Literally.

That said, I actually love the cooler weather (not that sweat induced adult acne wasn't totally awesome all summer long....) and was psyched to get out for a run this morning. Okay, I waited until the temps climbed into the mid-forties...

It was literally perfect weather for a run this morning: crisp and breezy, dry and sunny. It was also perfect weather for photography, so even my crappy iPhone pics, taken with a sweaty, shaky hand are able to convey how beautiful it was this morning. Sort of.








These are the Belted Galloway cows at Aldermere farm. So pretty, and not even that smelly!







And, that's a sign at the farm. Awkward...






Megunticook Golf Club. I don't even play golf, and this is my favorite golf course in the world. Not counting mini-golf courses, of which I am a connoisseur, and which regrettably are already closed for the season up here.





Because it was chilly this morning, I got to bust out the 2011 Boston Marathon shirt while I ran. Which was timely, because this morning, I registered for the 2012 Boston Marathon! My application is being processed as we speak, and while I haven't yet received confirmation that I'm in, they did already take my $150. Either that's a good sign, or this is the most expensive rejection ever.

Bonus post-run photo!





Chicken chili and cheddar on a baked potato, with a Sam Adams. Best fall lunch ever! And totally proportional caloric intake, given that I only ran 7 miles this morning...

Now I've gotta go; as I'm leaving Maine tomorrow and headed back to NYC, and back to pre-marathon sobriety, I have to drink as much as I can in the remaining hours I have left here. Isn't that what everyone does when they're on vacation with their parents?

Track of Doom

As I may have mentioned once or twice, I'm on vacation in Maine this week. And while that means I get to spend 5 whole days not going to work, it does not mean I get to spend 5 days not following a training plan.

Generally speaking, I quite like running in Maine; we've been coming here for many years, so I have plenty of routes already mapped out, and running gives me the chance to see what's changed since last summer. That said, nothing has changed at the local high school, and it would be my strong preference not to see their track. And yet, 800s were on my training schedule for today (which is, incidentally, the first Wednesday of my taper and therefore the most misleading use of the term "taper" ever), so once again this year, I ventured to Camden Hills Regional High School to use their track. The track of doom.

I know: you think I think all tracks are tracks of doom, but this one is even more ominous than most. For starters, it's black. Black clouds, black cats, black toenails... Not things you want to encounter during training. Plus, it's like running on the surface of the sun. Also, it's on an elevated plain, so it's highly susceptible to lightening strikes, swarms of black flies, and high school boys making fun of people who are working out on it. In short, I don't approach workouts here with a sense of confidence (which seems unfair, because I was cool in high school; why don't those brats know that about me?!)

Anyway, I got to the track this morning and started my warm up, quickly discovering that in some spots, the inside 3 lanes were blocked with nets, benches, and various sporting equipment while the lines of the field were being painted. So I'd be running closer to 810s than 800s. Because I'm so fond of 800s, an extra 10 meters would be a special treat. A treat of doom.

As I knocked out the first mile of my warm up, I realized I usually don't warm up or cool down on the track itself; at home, I run from the gym to the track to warm up, so that by the time I arrive at the track, I've already done my two miles and can get right down to speed work. Today, I realized, I'd be running 10 miles over the course of my workout, entirely on the track. 40 laps of doom.

Here is what goes through one's head while running 40 laps on a track:

Laps 1-8: Warming up is easy, if boring. The weather here is nice. What should I eat for breakfast after this?

Laps 9, 10: Hey, this doesn't suck! Maybe I should do 10 800s, instead of just the 8 I'm scheduled to do!

Lap 11: I barely even need these recovery laps!

Laps 12, 13: I can't wait until I can get water after this set

Lap 14: It smells like something's burning. Is it me? And are those vultures?

Laps 15-32: Oh God, Mommy, don't leave me here!

Laps 33-40: Be cool, be cool. You're fine. Be cool.

My 800 splits were as follows:
3:29, 3:23, 3:25, 3:25, 3:25, 3:26, 3:28, 3:22 (eff no, I did not do 10 instead of 8!), so I was actually pretty psyched at the end of this workout. And by "pretty psyched," I mean "I made my mom take a picture of my triumph over the track of doom":





No, I didn't run wearing a one piece bathing suit. Yes, I really did think that was a "tough" face. Awkward image of doom.

And with that, track work is over and the next 2 and a half weeks will be full of phantom pains, insatiable hunger, random crying jags, and the possible acquisition of another pet. Taper of doom.

Doesn't marathoning sound fun?!

It's 4:15 Somewhere

10.4 hilly miles this morning. Gritty's Pub Style Pale Ale this afternoon.

That I ran 10-plus miles on a Tuesday morning, without having to start at 5:30am or get ready for work at the gym (that green body wash doesn't exactly result in the most smooth and hydrated face) made me think that running on vacation is pretty awesome. That I cracked my first beer at 4:15pm confirmed that, running or not, vacation is pretty awesome.

Hope you suckers are having a good week at the office!

Sunday Wrap Up: The (Almost) Perfect Day

Step 1. Wake up without an alarm clock. In Maine.
Step 2. Drink coffee with family and friends. Require a sweatshirt due to cool temperatures.
Step 3. Run 21.3 miles, with no concern for pace, in mid-50 degree weather with no humidity. Climb challenging hills, lap gorgeous marinas, traverse unpaved roads, say "good morning" to every single runner, hiker, dog walker, and biker encountered, and mean it.
Step 4. Eat awesome sandwich...
Step 5. ... And peanut butter chocolate fudge
Step 6. Open a beer
Step 7. Make that, two beers
Step 8. Watch the Giants game

The only way this day could be even more perfect would be if Eli Manning weren't playing like Eli Manning.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 49. I have half a mind to run home from dinner tonight to make it an even 50. And depending on how many more beers I drink, perhaps I will.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 4. Last Sunday marked 4 weeks out from my marathon, or the onset of my traditional pre-race dry period. Unfortunately, that would have meant I would have slaved away all week long, staying later and later at the office which each successive night last week so I could well and truly enjoy a week's vacation, only to get here and not really be able to enjoy vacation. Maine has a lot of awesome beer, so not drinking them would have been akin to going to Tuscany and sticking to the Atkins diet. Or just sticking to the Atkins diet in general, because that shit sounds miserable. So anyway, here's what I decided to do: starting last Sunday, I stopped drinking. Upon my arrival in Maine, and until I leave here next Saturday, I shall enjoy beers. Upon my return to New York, I'm going back to Dry Town. So really, it's the same 4 weeks of detox I usually do, only one of those 4 weeks is actually re-tox. It's science.

(Don't question me.)

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Geary's Pale Ale and Gritty's Red Claw thus far. Contenders for tonight include Andrew's, Shipyard, Allagash... The possibilities are endless.

Number of Crustaceans I Plan to Eat Tonight: 12. Is lobster a carb? Maybe Atkins isn't so bad after all...

The Cost-Conscious Runner

In theory, running is a very low-cost sporting option. Do you have a pair of shorts? Great, you can be a runner! At this point, even sneakers are viewed as optional.

But fine, let’s say you’re more mainstream than that (conformist!). And maybe you’re a chick. So, do you have a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, a bra, a ponytail holder, socks, and sneakers? Hit the pavement – you’re ready to be a runner!

But maybe you’ve been running awhile, so you’re ready to take it to the next level (or, you want people to think you took it to the next level, based on how you look). Technical fabrics. Seasonal outerwear. Sneakers you replace every couple of months. Reflective gear. Mid-run nutrition. Post-run refueling (craft beer don’t come cheap). A Garmin, even. Now your spending is getting up there.

Are you ready to run a marathon? Do you have $207? That’s what it will cost if you want to run New York. Granted, if you, like me, live here, you’ll save on travel costs. But in Boston, it’ll still cost you $150, plus travel expenses to get there and accommodations. And that’s assuming you don’t want to buy anything at the expo (those jackets aren't free, you know). Or eat.

And if you’re running Boston, chances are good that you paid to travel to and race at another marathon to get yourself into Boston.

As you can see, running gets costly fast. But how costly? I decided to run (hehe) some numbers, based on my own running and spending habits, to get a sense of what it costs to be a casual runner over the course of a year.

Marathon entry fees:
Registration fees vary vastly depending on the race, but if you find a race that costs less than $80, you’ve gotten yourself a bargain. In 2011, I ran Boston and San Francisco, and will run the much smaller and less costly Smuttynose Marathon next month. Let's average races at $125. So 3 marathons/year x $125/marathon = $375

Other race entry fees:
This year, I made it my goal to run a race a month. This includes my marathons, so let’s say that’s 9 additional races. NYRR races cost $33 each, as I’m not a member. Other local small races may be cheaper, but half marathons get more expensive, so I’m using $33 as the average. 9 races x $33/race = $297

Travel expenses:
I happen to use racing as a good excuse to visit friends, so I’m often shacking up with people I know when I travel to race. But I don’t have any friends in the airline industry, so that transcontinental flight sadly wasn’t free. Between airfare and train travel, I’d guess I’ll have spent about $700 getting to races by the end of the year.

Sneakers:
I replace mine every 350 or 400 miles. So about 4.5 pairs a year. 5 pairs/sneakers x $80/pair = $400

Gym membership:
Disclaimer – my parents pay for my gym membership, which is renewed as a Christmas present every year. But it costs them (and you suckers, who presumably pay for your own, unless you’re psycho and train outside even when there are 25 inches of snow on the ground, or it’s 105 degrees and 97% humidity – both of which have occurred in NYC in the past year) $89/month X 12 months = $1068. (Related: Whoa, parents, you are extremely generous. Thank you!)

Miscellaneous gear:
Given how many races I’ve run, I never need to buy another t-shirt again. However, sports bras and socks and shorts and hats and all that stuff wears out eventually. I might spent $50 a month on random things like that. Which seems like I’ve lowballed it, until I realize that $600 a year.

Laundry:
Running makes you sweat. A lot. I drop off my laundry to be done, which is actually cheaper than doing it myself. It costs $1/lb. I average 2 loads a month, each around 15 pounds, consisting almost entirely of running clothes (and underwear). $30/month x 12 months = $360.

Training tools:
I spend $8.95 a month on a Pro Membership to DailyMile, my online training log. I could use this service for free with almost all of the same benefits as a paid membership, but given what an important and downright essential tool it’s been in the 2+ year’s I’ve been a member, I’m more than happy to pay for a Pro Membership. Plus it enables me to send people icons that convey my support, such as a pair of sunglasses emblazoned with "badass!" or a pint glass that says "cheers!"

I spent another $29.95 on my marathon training plan from TrainingPeaks. I credit this plan (and my legs) for my Boston qualifier and Boston marathon PR. You can buy it once and apply it multiple times, so with dollar cost averaging (fact: I have no idea what that term means), it’s totally worth it.

I also subscribe to both Runner’s World and Running Times, which might cost $10 per subscription. And I just bought Kara Goucher’s “Running for Women” on Kindle for $11.99. I actually don’t find it particularly helpful as a training tool, save for the fact that Kara’s picture is on the “e-cover.”
DailyMile - $107.40
TrainingPeaks - $29.95
Books/magazines -$31.99
That’s $169.34

Water:
That shit is free. (Well, except for paying $1068 to belong to a gym with water fountains…)

Already, we’ve racked up $3,969.34 in running related expenses over a 12 month period. That doesn’t take into consideration more occasional expenses; for example, a post toenail regrowth pedicure. Or, when I spent 10 weeks in physical therapy earlier this year and it cost $25 a session. I went twice a week. I’m pretty sure those fancy prosthetic legs cost less than $500…

You’re probably wondering why I bothered to do this math, and what on earth prompted this little economic forum. It all started when I spent some time running on a Woodway treadmill at the gym. The gym was pretty crowded, but the 3 Woodways were all free. This was sort of weird, since Woodways are known (or marketed, at least) as being easier on your body. So I hopped on, and started thinking. If Woodways are better for runners, why then don’t gyms switch to an all-Woodway layout? And actually, why didn’t my parents, who have a treadmill at home, get a Woodway?

So I did a little Googling, and found the Woodway model at the gym. Behold: the Woodway Desmo H

And behold: its price tag

$10,000.

My gym has 3 of them. Those three treadmills alone are worth more than a year of a 22 year old’s professional life (trust me; I’m speaking from experience here).

I urge anyone who says running is low-cost to check back in with me in 60 years, when I still won’t have saved enough to retire. On the plus side, my investment in compression shorts is going to come in really handy when I’m still trying to wear pencil skirts to work at age 87…

A Wise Man Once Said...

Preeminent philosopher of modern times Vince Vaughn said it best: "No excuses; play like a champion." I don't seem to have that problem when it comes to my social pursuits, but lately it seems like every run has come with some sort of excuse or qualifier; I've been tired, I've had one too many beers, I've forgotten to charge my Garmin, I've had to get to work early, I've been evacuated due to imminent natural disaster. Legitimate as they may be (well, some of them anyway...), even I'm getting sick of my excuses.

Tonight I hit the 'mill after work for an easy 6 miles. I felt great for the first 5, increasing my pace each mile. But after 50 minutes, my stomach started churning, and not even reruns of Teen Mom could distract me. I was forced to slow my pace or face imminent and embarrassing mid-treadmill defecation. Another run, another excuse for a less thank champion-level effort and performance. Woof.

Tomorrow is slated to be my last 800s workout of this training cycle. It's also slated to be raining. According to the same screed which brought us the first dictum of this post, there is also: "Always bring an extra umbrella. Courtesy opens more legs than charm." I'm not really sure that's applicable in the case of a track workout (or the social life of a heterosexual female), so maybe I should feel less guilty about not applying the sage wisdom of Mr. Vaughn after all... Or maybe that's just my excuse.

Tuesday Wrap Up: Goodbye, Summer

Fact: it is only 62 degrees today, the unofficial first day of not-summer.

Fact: I’m wearing white pants anyway.

I’m not sure how this happened, but Labor Day weekend has come and gone. People are all “woe is me, summer is the greatest, I can’t go on living,” and truth be told, my Monday depression was raging yesterday (sorry, IMan…). But really, Fall is awesome. So awesome, in fact, I would argue that Fall is the best season. I know, that’s a bold statement. But hear me out. Here is a list of reasons Fall rules:

1. Football. College football, NFL, and hot, preppy dudes playing football in the Park. That third one actually doesn’t exist outside the pages of the Abercrombie catalogue, but it’s nice to think about the possibility.
2. Cooler temperatures, lower humidity. No longer will I have to change into a dry shirt after walking the three blocks from the subway to my office. Also, the guy who does my laundry will probably hate me less, because my running clothes won’t smell quite so bad. On Sunday, 3 bugs actually drowned in my face sweat while I was running. True story. I'm ready to stop committing accidental insect genocide.
3. Fall clothes. I’ve been wearing (and sweating in) the same stuff every day since May. Give me cashmere and corduroys.
4. Heavier beers. Belgian yeast is overrated.
5. Foliage. Granted, I live in an urban environment, but I’m a sucker for changing leaves. Also, I’m a sucker for using the term “leaf-peeping” as a sexual euphemism.
6. Fall races. The Smuttynose Marathon is now less than 4 weeks away. I have one (50 mile…) week to go before my taper begins next week.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 44. Track work was solid last week, but in general, I’m feeling pretty weary and my legs are starting to get run down. Just get me through this week…

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 8. I had three beers on Saturday night and passed out at halftime during the Oregon-LSU game. Party animal, right here…

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Brooklyn Lager, Brooklyn Pilsner, Pacifico, Bud Light. IMan and I went to a bodega on Sunday night to grab beers on our way to Colin’s place and I was shocked to see how many Fall beers are stocked already. IMan’s first thought was “wow, these Oktoberfest beers have been sitting on this shelf for, like, a year.” Whatever staves off your seasonal depression…

The Hangover Shuffle

You know that feeling when you wake up and your mouth tastes like a combination of Doritos and cotton balls?  You swing your feet over the edge of the bed and you almost wish that you had more of a headache, if only so you had a concrete excuse not to go running?  But you don't, not really anyway, so instead you hem and haw and do unimportant tasks around your house that have suddenly become "must-do," if only to put off going outside?  But then you eventually run out of things to dust or laundry to put away, so in one last ditch effort, you wish for a split second that maybe you've lost your shoes or forgot to charge your Garmin and oops, guess I can't go running? But of course your shoes are right where you left them and your Garmin was plugged in last night, when your beer legs convinced you you were going to wake up even earlier than usual and run even more and won't that be so great so you better make sure that Garmin is charged?!  Only now it's the next day and it's not very great at all?


So you go outside and take a deep breath and press start and then, ever so gingerly, take your first steps?  Like a newborn fawn, not at all surefooted, wondering, how much will this hurt?  Trying not to move your head at all or pound the pavement, anticipating that headache you wished for half an hour ago will hit you like a ton of beers the moment you start moving, suddenly asking yourself what is that in my stomach?  You're practically wincing with each step, waiting for the pounding in your skull to start, shuffling along as tenderly as possible?


You know that feeling?


Me neither.  Never happened to me.

Finding Meaning in Maxims

I always thought that "it doesn't matter how fast you do them," was something that coaches told slow kids to make them feel better.  I came to this conclusion having run on the indoor track team in high school, where my superhuman speed hadn't quite yet manifested itself.  Last night at the track was the first time that maxim actually made sense to me.


As you are well aware, I hate mile repeats, and also am not very good at running them.  Last night, I was committed to doing them successfully.  I had a dual strategy for conquering them:
1. Don't get psyched out, and
2. Run consistently.
I didn't care if they weren't my fastest; I just wanted them to be even.


Given how much trouble I had with them last time, I decided I'd use the McMillan pace calculator to determine how fast I should be running them, rather than guessing on my own.  I plugged in my goal marathon time - 3:29:59 - and it spit out my 1600 target paces - 6:54 to 7:09.


Not only did this give me more flexibility than my guess of 6:55-7:00, but 7:09?!  Delightful!  That's like, walking, right?  Well not exactly, but I just started pretending that, yes, it was, and this was barely going to be a speed workout.  Step 1 - complete.


I got to the track after work (related - I hate running after work.  No matter what I've eaten, my stomach hurts) and it was packed.  And I was annoyed.  Who are these people?  And why are those girls wearing such short shorts?  That's my schtick.  Only I do it without chiseled abs and an even, natural tan.  Where did these chicks come from?


I set out for my first repeat pretty easy, glancing at my Garmin every 400.  Slowly, I watched my pace come down. 7:17, 7:07, 7:01.  I finished the first repeat in 6:56 and felt great.  I'd done it perfectly!


I took my two recovery laps and waited a few additional seconds for a big group also running miles to fly by in the inside lane before I toed the line for the second.  Damn, short shorts, chiseled abs, and they're fast?!  Life can be so cruel.  I went out comfortably, but glanced down after a lap and saw I was right at 6:56. But I felt like I could hold it for 3 more laps.  I clocked the second in 6:53.


The workout continued much the same way, and rather than throwing me off, the team working out on the track helped me quite a bit.  I was able to pace off a few different people, letting them do the heavy lifting while I just held on.  But don't worry; I wasn't a total selfish jerk.  I even said to one guy "you did the work last lap, I'll pull you this lap." (Then I smoked him).  And the women on the team were very informative in that their short shorts that didn't appear to be riding up at all.  They inspired me to add to my short short collection, which I know you're all thrilled to hear. 


Anyway, my last 2 splits were 6:56 and 6:53.  This wasn't my fastest set of repeats, but it was the first time in awhile that I felt like I got was I was supposed to out of the workout.  I was consistent, felt good, and was right where I needed to be for a 3:30 marathon.  Mental health restored!


Mile repeats were also my last workout for the month of August.  My total mileage for the month?  Only 138. Not so good.  Also, exactly 20 miles less than I ran last month.  And that long run I missed last weekend thanks to Hurricane Irene?  20 miles.  D'oh!


Anyway, one last note before I leave you to celebrate today's rest day by watching the Today Show until the last possible moment: IMan is looking for two to three people to join his Reach the Beach team in New Hampshire next month.  I ran RTB: Massachusetts back in May and it was really, really fun.  If you too are really, really fun, and interested in joining a team, shoot me an email at willrunforbeerblog at gmail dot com.  If you're not fun, though, don't bother.


Anyway, have a good Thursday.  It doesn't matter how fast it goes by.


Wow, I just found a situation in which that adage definitely DOESN'T apply...