Wednesday Wrap Up: The Best-Kept Secret

You know what's worst than Sunday depression after a great weekend?


Monday depression, after a great long weekend.


But worse than that, even?  Monday depression, after a great long weekend, sitting alone in an airport bar, preparing to board a red eye to go straight to work.


You'll forgive me, then, for needing 2 days back in NYC to get off suicide watch my bearings.


The red eye was indeed not great (related: children should be banned from red eyes.  I get that you're OMG so excited!!!!!1! to be up way past your bedtime, watching television while flying through the air, but some of us have to be at work in 4 hours.  Shut it).  It was also nearly 40 minutes early, which meant that I got back to my office at 7:30 on Tuesday morning.  Not quite enough time to go back to my apartment and catch a quick snooze, but too much time to just take a quick shower and grab a coffee before tackling my neglected inbox (full of spam... turns out I'm actually not very important and the world goes on even when I'm not in the office).  So I did something kind of weird and impulsive: I opened my suitcase, put on (not very clean) running clothes, and headed out for 5 miles along the Hudson.  On about an hour of sleep.  It was like my own personal Reach the Beach, except instead of finishing at a beer tent on the sand, I finished at the Starbucks in the lobby of my building.  Admittedly, not as fun.  


That said, I think the post-red eye run has some sort of magical energizing voodoo associated with it (or maybe that was just the doughnuts in Portland...); whereas the last time I took the red eye back to work after an amazing vacation, I spent 3 hours crying underneath my desk before going home early, I managed to work a full day yesterday, and even did some actual work.  It's a miracle!  However, I also managed to be reminded that running in the summer in NYC actively blows; after 4 days in a runner's paradise, returning to 90 degree temperatures and 85% humidity was a rude awakening.  Not that I slept the night before anyway...


On to the wrap up!


Number of Miles Run Last Week: 24.  


Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 12 in Portland, plus another 4-ish before I left?  I (finally) downloaded Untappd, which should make me a little more accountable in this area.  It currently thinks I'm a total badass because I drank so many different beers in Portland.  Wait until I log 47 Bud Lights at Megan's bachelorette party this Saturday night...


Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Brooklyn Lager, Green Point Harbor English IPA, St. Peter's IPA, plus the good stuff in PDX - Lucky Labrador's Stumptown Porter, Burnside Brewing's Oatmeal Pale Ale, Fat Tire, Deschutes' Black Butte Porter, Bridgeport's Blue Heron Pale Ale, Widmer Bros' O'Ryely IPA, Oakshire Brewing's Watershed IPA, Rogue's Captain Sig's Northwestern Ale (yes, like on Deadliest Catch!), Laurelwood's Gearhead IPA, Oakshire's Line Dry Rye, and Mt. Hood Brewing's Cloud Cap Amber Ale.  I might be more proud of that list that I am of qualifying for Boston.

You got that right!

PDX in Pics: Day 3

After two days packed with physical exertion in the form of running and hiking, day 3 in PDX was a chance to dedicated ourselves more thoroughly to other pursuits. Such as beer and doughnuts.




Liz and I woke up early to beat the crowd at Voodoo Doughnuts. At 9:00am, the line was already about 15 minutes long. By the time we'd finished our doughnuts, the wait was more than twice that.



We got one glazed and one Voodoo Doughnut. We didn't purchase that bite of sausage pictured on the corner of the picnic table - it was a freebie!



Following donuts and brunch (which were in fact two distinct meals), it was time for a little beer tasting. We snagged a few more 22oz bottles of local brew from the grocery store and got down to business.



But after those were gone, we moved on to the Bridgeport Brewery (and then Deschutes Brewery...), where we continued our highly scientific study. Here, Liz assists Scott* in assessing the aroma of the Bridgeport Blue Heron Pale Ale. According to his Rate That Beer form, it smelled like a skunk and sweaty underpants.

JetBlue has already invited me via email to check in for my flight tonight, but since I'm taking the red eye, we've got a full day ahead of us. It will begin with a run, in an attempt to counterbalance the doughnuts and beers...

*Liz told me I could post this picture of you online, Scott. Which is weird, because after my legions of adoring fans see it, they're all going to be clamoring to steal you away from her...

Happy Summer!

Memorial Day Weekend!  Hooray!  Here's to flip flop season!

In 2013....


The black one is bad enough, but you seriously don't want to know what's under that blue Bandaid.  It's like Lord Voldemort's face. 

PDX in Pics: Day 2

Saturday in Portland left me ready to move here. Liz and Scott, surprise! My wedding gift to you is going to be rent, since I'll be your boarder. Anyway, yesterday my sister and I went for a run along the Willamette River to the Farmer's Market on the Portland State campus, where we ate our way through a pint of strawberries while browsing the stalls. We grabbed some egg crepes for breakfast (organic and local, obvs) and composted our refuse before walking back to her apartment to get ready for a trip to Mt. Hood.



Picking up our day pass at the Ranger Station.



Conditions on the trails. Remember that time it snowed once in NYC this year?



We had a snowball fight on our hike to Mirror Lake.




Chili in a bread bowl, with a beer, at the Timberline Lodge. If you asked me to name my ideal lunch components, these are they. (Beer was Mt. Hood Cloud Cap Amber Ale)


We picked up a few more 22 oz bottles of local beer to try. This Hop Henge is Deschutes' experimental IPA, and I expected it to be really heavily hopped. It was actually quite drinkable. Very citrusy hops aroma, but with a pretty strong malt flavor to balance it out. The Deschutes Brewery is a block from Liz and Scott's apartment, so I'll have much more to say on their beers later...

PDX in Pics

Day one Portland consisted of breakfast of (nitrate-free) bacon and (Stumptown) coffee, a couple hours of hiking in Washington Park, a grilled cheese from a food truck made my a man with a beard, and some delicious PNW beers. And a double rainbow. Best day ever!


View of Downtown Portland from Pittock Mansion. Also, view of myself with hair that hadn't been washed in 2 days.


Redwoods and Giant Sequoias in Washington Park. I love things that are taller than me.


Mount Saint Helen's is back there. Somewhere.


"Here in the Willamette Valley, summer is short. So take heed. Waste not a single summer day nor your money running the dryer. Instead hang your clothes and drink a beer in the sun. Relax and enjoy."

Decision Time

First, thanks to everyone for your fall marathon suggestions!

Well, not everyone.  Some of you made stupid suggestions, and demonstrated a total lack of reading comprehension.  You might as well have skipped the blog post altogether and just written "FIRST!!!!1!" in the comment box.

But mostly you made good suggestions, and in the end, it was thanks to them that I ended up registering for number 14: The Rehoboth Beach Marathon on December 8th.

A couple of factors ultimately contributed to my selecting Rehoboth as my A race this fall (my inability to get the spelling of Rehoboth right on the first try was not one of them):

- Date.  This was the most crucial factor, and while a late season race dramatically increases the risk of training burnout, it also dramatically increases the amount of fun I'll be able to have at the six weddings I'm attending between now and then.  I was, at first, nervous to commit to a seaside marathon in a season not known for its beach weather.  Having once spectated the Gansett Marathon in April, I was very nearly turned into a popsicle and blown into the Atlantic Ocean. But race reports out of Rehoboth seem to indicate temps in the 40s and 50s, and none mentioned "insane, blustery winds and seaspray that threatens to turn this event into a swim-and-run duathlon."  And frankly, I've now had two consecutive A races be interrupted by less-than-ideal weather, so I feel like my luck has to turn around at some point. 

Weather concerns aside, a late season marathon means that I'll be able to complete my training without disrupting the lives of everyone I know who is getting married this summer and fall.  I don't have to start training until August 20th.  That means no "sorry, I can't drink at your bachelorette party; I need to wake up early to run." Not that I'm a stranger to extremely hungover bachelorette party weekend runs:



Yes I am giving the finger. I think I had just dry heaved.  And Nina had just drunk-driven a bicycle into me.

 So anyway, now I can and will get drunk all summer long!  That's what they mean when they talk about the sanctity of marriage, right?

- The state of Delaware.  I actually have no drive whatsoever to run a marathon in every state.  But I've never run in Delaware before (I'm not confident I've ever been to Delaware before), so I am excited to try something new.  California International Marathon was a top contender, as it also met the early December/late season criteria, but I've already run two marathons in California.  Plus, Delaware is a lot easier to get to than California.

- The Dogfish Head Brewery.  Because there's no better time to drink an 18% ABV beer than immediately after racing 26.2 miles.  Except possibly immediately before racing 26.2 miles...

So there you have it.  Here's hoping December 7, 2012 is the last time I'll be a 3:24 marathoner.  Sub 3:20 or bust!

Man Needed

Don't worry; this isn't that post (though aren't they all that post?  Call me, maybe?).  I need a man shorter than 5'6" or taller than 6'4" to join me for the next installment of the New York Rogue Runners' race series: the NYC Tri-Legathon.


This race shall be a co-ed, height-disparate, three-legged race.  Participating teams will be of different genders, not dating, married, or in another type of romantic partnership, and the difference in their heights shall be at least 5 inches.  At nearly 5'11" barefoot, this puts me in a bit of a predicament.

For illustrative purposes, that's me in the purple dress, with my mom (and my sister).  I'm the only one wearing flats.   That I was born of something so small reinforces the "miracle" part of "the miracle of life."


The other dilemma associated with this race is that I don't have the best track record with the New York  Rogue Runners.  In my first race, I came in second to last.  In my second race, I took a DNF.  So it's rather important to me that I do well in my third race, lest it be my last.  So really, I'm looking for a small or tall man who is a fast runner.  No pressure.


Do you fit this mold mould (had no idea that was the correct spelling)?  Are you available on Thursday, June 7th at 7:15pm?  Please email me at willrunforbeerblog at gmail.com.


Update: the post-race party is at PJ Clarke's?!  Who planned this shit?  You people are so insensitive to my racing needs.  I'm going there first and finding myself a small Suit to race with.  And a tall one to take home.

You Think The Children Are Bad?

Park Slope get a bad rap for being a neighborhood full of entitled children.  And their parents.  And while there are a great many children here, which can pose a problem on a hungover Sunday when all I want is to get from my apartment to La Bagel Delight without being run over by a Razor scooter or hear the piercing shrieks of 8 year olds (how dare they have fun?!), generally speaking, the kids are all right.  The parents are indeed entitled, but that's a story for another day (or read this, which is hilarious and also not intentional satire, believe it or not...).  But no one ever talks about the dogs of Park Slope.


Being that this is a neighbor that is home to Brooklyn's largest park, there are a lot of dogs in Park Slope.  Not just in Prospect Park, but in restaurants and bars and coffee shops.  Dogs pretty much have free reign in Park Slope, which is okay by me, because I like them.  But not enough to kiss one (take me to dinner first).  Unfortunately, I was confronted with just such a prospect this morning.  


I set out for a 10+ miler this morning - my longest run since the 50k last month.  Though not hot out, it was one of the first humid days of the year.  The kind of day that reminds you why you actually sort of hate New York in the summer and in mere weeks you'll be forced to change your clothes when you get to work because you've sweat through your commuting attire and that next year, seriously, you're getting a share in Montauk.  I headed out the door without any aid, figuring I'd take advantage of the water fountains in the Park, now that they're finally turned on.  


My workout was as follows: 1 mi w/u, 5x1 mile @GMP (fun fact: no idea when or where my next marathon will be, so the whole concept of "goal marathon pace" is a fluid one...), 4x1 mi easy effort, and whatever was left between me and my apartment at that point as cool down. I tackled the GMP miles solidly, bringing my pace down from 7:45 to 7:28 over 5 miles, but I was beat by the time they were done; I could definitely tell I hadn't had a hard workout in awhile.  I knocked out the first easy effort mile or two and was still feeling pretty worn out, so I sought out a water fountain, hoping a little hydration would perk me back up.  I spied one about 50 yards ahead and started aiming for it.  At the same time, an older man carrying a small and very hairy dog approached it from the other side.  He saw me and smiled and then bent down to get a drink.  Seeing him hold down the button and eject a stream of water almost made me lick my lips, I was so thirsty.


And then, he held his small and very hairy dog down to the tap, where it proceeded to lick and slurp directly from the spigot.


I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from severe dehydration right now.  On the plus side, I don't have any hair balls.

Sunday Wrap Up: Runner Karma

I have to admit something: I don't really like spectating at races.  For one, you only get to see your friends for the 3 seconds it takes them to run through your line of vision.  For another, clapping really hurts after awhile.  Also, races start early in the morning, and if I'm getting up early, it's because I want to run myself, not watch other people do it.  


Among my runner friends, I think I'm pretty unique(ly selfish and bitchy...) in this respect; everyone I run with (literally; we run together) gets so fired up to spectate.  On any given Friday, emails and Gchats and tweets are bouncing around as everyone makes plans to meet up to cheer on that Saturday's runners.  Inevitably, Erica is gluing glitter onto something in preparation.


Despite not really getting into the whole spectating thing, I try to do it from time to time.  Certainly not as often as I should, nor as often as it seems everyone else is, but when my schedule allows, I'll set my alarm and make the trek to wherever that weekend's race is.  (Assuming it's in one of two boroughs.)  I've always told myself I do this because other people do it for me, and I should give back to the running community.  And it's true; my friends - runners and not - have been incredibly supportive of my races, ignoring borough boundaries and traveling literally throughout the country to cheer for me.  I felt like, however begrudgingly I was spectating, runner karma would be on my side.


Saturday morning, I had plans to meet the Glitterati herself to spectate the Brooklyn Half Marathon.  This was, in my book, worth double karmic points, because while it began in my neighborhood, the start gun went off at 7:00am.  Furthermore, I was out until 2:00am, and had been in such a state when I got into bed that I left all the lights on and the sink running (sorry for that ecological misstep, Caroline.  I do not have environmental karma on my side, it seems...).  Working on approximately as much sleep as my counterparts at Reach the Beach, I grabbed a Boston Marathon cowbell and headed to Prospect Park at 6:30am.  Definitely still intoxicated.


I met ES at the 3 mile mark just moments before the lead men went by.  "Claire," she told me.  "I'm so inspired by all of these people.  Not just the leaders, but everyone.  Out here, running a half marathon.  That's not something most people do.  It's just incredible."  And she meant it.  Despite being a marathoner herself, Erica was genuinely inspired by the tens of thousands of people who had shown up at 7:00am to run 13.1 miles on what was turning out to be a pretty hot day, and because of that, she wanted to make sure they had a great day. 


I felt like a total dick.


But Erica's enthusiasm turned out to be contagious (note to eligible dudes: she doesn't have anything else that is contagious).  I cheered louder and longer and more aggressively than I ever have before.  I rang my cowbell so hard I got blisters on both hands.  And people really, truly appreciated it.  I've never seen so many smiles during a race in my life (granted, I did recently run the Boston Marathon, where there were no smiles at all and a lot of tears and also vomiting).  For the first time as a spectator, I wasn't doing it just to see my racing friends or to balance some karmic equation and ensure future running support for myself, but because total strangers running a half marathon were grateful for it.  And it was totally awesome.

Photo credit: Erica

Less awesome was how I looked while doing it, as compared with a professional cheerleader, who dressed in a fedora specifically because she was coming to Brooklyn:

Anyway, I guess if you're any friend whose race I've watched in the preceding 28 years, sorry I was actually making it all about me.  I'll be better now.  So, register for some stuff and I'll come watch because I want to, not because I should.  But the two-borough limit still stands.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 22.  I wish I had gotten in a couple more, but immediately after spectating and refueling from spectating, I passed out for the duration of the afternoon.  Ringing that bell was way harder than running.  I optimistically packed running gear with me when I left my apartment this morning (at 6:00am...) to work all day at AIDS Walk, but 9 hours in the sun, fueled by PopChips, didn't leave me with much energy for evening miles.  I'll get over it.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week:  Oh.  15?  I mean probably if I hadn't had 10 of them on Friday night, I wouldn't have needed the Saturday afternoon post-spectating nap, but I can only learn one lesson per week, and this week's was about being selfless.  Next week I can tackle time management as it relates to alcohol consumption.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: A couple of Stellas, a couple of Heinekens, and a new-to-me seasonal - Magic Hat's Elder Betty.  I know and like their Wacko summer seasonal, but had never heard of Elder Betty.  It turned out to be great - solid weisse beer with an interesting, tart finish.  I have no idea what an elderberry is, but if it tastes like this beer, I'd eat one.  Unless it's like a dingleberry...

On Content

It occurs to me that, with my next race more than a month away and being a half I've run six times before, I don't have a ton of interesting information to report on the running front.  I'm doing it, obviously, but there are no specific workouts, no markers, no track sessions.  If I wrote exclusively about my workouts, this blog would read as follows:

Tuesday morning: I ran 2 loops of Prospect Park

Wednesday morning: I ran a loop of Prospect Park

Thursday morning: I ran 2 loops of Prospect Park and was hungover

Friday morning: I ran a loop of Prospect Park

In light of the fact that such a blog would be exceptionally boring, I will take this relative running downtime as an opportunity to focus on the other aspect of this blog: the beer.  I consider this commitment a public service, so that I can provide quality content to my legions of adoring fans. Which is why I drank 4 beers with an avowed indie music lover last night, at which point I looked him square in the eye (or as square as one can look after 4 beers) and said "Anyone who says they don't like 'Call Me Maybe' is a liar."

You're welcome.

The Great Bike Debate

You'd think that runners and cyclists would be natural allies: we both love fitness, being outside, multi-use public spaces, and wearing clothing of questionable shortness and tightness (that last one would make you think we got on well with middle school girls as well).  You'd think we'd play nice, but in reality, runners and cyclists are like the Sharks and the Jets.  But without the racism.






I should preface this by saying I've already gone on the record stating that I find cyclists to be dicks (and I found the old link on my blog by searching "dicks").  But if I'm being honest, so can runners.  This morning, I was in Prospect Park even earlier than usual - by 6:15 or so.  The Park is closed to vehicular traffic in the mornings until 7:00am, which means that until that magical hour, we runners and cyclists and dog walkers and the man who kicks a kickball around the park every day have all the lanes to ourselves.  That's currently two car lanes, plus a lane each for runners and cyclists, though they've just begun construction to bring that down to one car lane and expand the runner and bike lanes, because runners and cyclists hate each other so much, we must be further separated.  No word on which lane the man who kicks the kickball around the park every day is meant to be using.


At about 6:45 or so, I was running uphill next to a cyclist.  Coming towards us was a runner.  All three of us were in the nefarious under construction bike/running lanes. As the cyclist got closer to the runner coming towards him, the runner threw up his hands, and as we passed, screamed to the cyclist "stay out of our lanes!"


People.  It is 6:45 on a Friday morning.  It is a gorgeous day, and we are all enjoying it.  There are no cars or dangerous obstacles around.  Let's just be civil, get our fitness on, and go home to shower and get ready for work.  The faster we do that, the faster it will be Friday evening and time for drinking.  Save the screaming tirades for the Brooklyn Bridge, where the cyclists truly are dicks.

The Fall Marathon Question

For the first time in five years, I don’t have a fall marathon on my calendar. In fact, for the first time in two years, I don’t have two fall marathons on my calendar (fine, last year’s “fall” marathons were in October and… July. But San Francisco in July is basically fall anyway).

I’ve asked pretty much every running friend I have (and that's a lot of people, because I am popular) about a fall marathon they’d recommend, but can’t seem to make a decision. The choice is complicated by a couple of factors:

- I’ve already run a lot of the fall standards (Philly, Chicago, NYC, Wineglass, Smuttynose)

- A bunch of races are already full (MCM)

- I have no interest in traveling to some places (Hartford, Tucson), nor in running any Rock 'n' Roll events

- I have weddings the weekends of 9/29 (which knocks out Portland, ME) and 10/20 (which is the same weekend as Baystate), not that I’d ever consider missing a wedding for a stinkin’ race.

- I don’t know if I want to race for a PR this year or not

That last point is probably the biggest obstacle. After a shitty day in Boston last month, I was happy with my 50k two weeks later, but the marathon is my thing, and I don’t know that I’m ready to put a PR on the back burner this year just because I didn’t get one this spring.  Plus, fall has traditionally been good to me as a runner. So I’ve been doing a lot of research on fall marathons.

Steamtown on 10/7 is a contender, but is Scranton, PA really worth the trip?

Portland, OR is also an option that same weekend, but that’d be two trips to PDX flights in 4 months, since I’m going out there next week. Plus the race falls on the birthday weekend of my prospective hosts (sister and future-brother-in-law), and if I were to be there for their birthdays, I’d rather celebrate their birthdays than demand they stand outside for 3 hours and 20 minutes watching me run.

Mount Desert Island is a choice, but it’s a bitch to get to, and by 10/14, Maine can be cold.

Other options:

Twin Cities – 10/7. There’s a beastly hill around mile 23 that terrifies me.

Air Force – 9/15. This race is in Ohio. So, no.

California International Marathon – 12/2. Supposedly super-fast, with great weather. But getting from NYC to Cali and back again isn’t inexpensive, and I have 7 weddings to attend between now and then.

Those are all potential PR choices. And then there’s Aspen.

My buddy Rafter lives in Boulder, CO (or something...), and is advocating for the Aspen Marathon on 8/25. It’s in Aspen, CO – possibly the most beautiful place ever. Exhibit A:



Source

 Exhibit B:


Source

But, it’s in Aspen, CO, elevation 7,890 ft. And while Rafter might be adequately adjusted to running at elevation out there in Boulder (or something...), I live in New York City, where I’m gasping for breath at the top of Cat Hill. In case you aren’t familiar with how altitude impacts performance, the winner of last year’s Aspen Marathon ran a 3:43. The winner of last year’s NYCM? 2:05. If I ran Aspen, I’d definitely not be racing for a PR, and would potentially suffer pulmonary edema (another fun fact: you have to get some kind of wilderness rescue card in order to run this race, so they can find your carcass when you inevitably succumb to altitude sickness on the side of the trail). But I would be "racing" someplace beautiful, and have the company of a good friend for the duration of the race, assuming he doesn’t leave me for dead (note: haven’t yet told Rafter I’d insist we hold hands the whole way because YAY FRIENDS FOREVER, AND I LIKE YOUR BEARD!).

So, here’s where you come in, dear readers: What should I do about a fall/later summer/not spring marathon? Have you run any of the above mentioned marathons? Is there anything else out there I’m forgetting to consider? Would you like to see pictures of my nosebleeds post-26.2 miles in the mountains? Do you think I will need a beard to go to Aspen, or just a NetJets account and AmEx black card?  Take to the comments!

Sunday Wrap Up: Tis The Season...

... For short shorts
... For Sunday evening sunshiny runs
... For getting out of the city on the weekends
... For running because you want to, not because you have to
... For SPF 100, everywhere
... For beers outside
... For my favorite Adirondack chair
... For all of the above, all at once




And also:
... For bridal everything (second shower in two weeks!)
... For going out more week nights than not
... For beaches
... For brunches
... For baseball
... For neglecting my blog in favor of the above (sorry I'm not sorry; been busy being awesome)

Number of Miles Run This Week: 38. Between the aforementioned 3 consecutive weeknights out, 2 trips to the UES to look at apartments, 3 days of an allergy attack, 1 boss who quit, leaving me with much more responsibility at work, 1 bridal shower hosted, and 1 mother fawned over, I'm pretty pleased with my mileage this week. Even when I'm not training, I like to make time for running so that at least I have that one constant, even when everything else is crazy/busy. And also because I have to attend a lot of events in cocktail attire and/or bathing suits in the next few weeks.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 10. So. Much. Wine. What is it about bridal showers that demand one gets day-drunk on Sauvignon Blanc?

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Elysian IPA, Bud Light, Sam Adams. Must return to Pony Bar immediately. Need more quality beer on the cheap.

Bar Review: The Pony Bar

Last night, I was meeting someone for drinks and was instructed to pick the venue.  I hate this.  There's so much pressure!  Is this a convenient location?  Is this the right vibe?  Will it be too crowded?  Will the beer selection be impressive or intimidating?


I ended up selecting The Pony Bar, which generally speaking fails at meeting the first criterion.  Located at West 45th Street and 10th Avenue, this is a pain to get to.  Unless you're me, and are coming from an office also located on 10th Avenue.  Sorry, everyone else in New York.  I do what I want!


I walked in and it was packed at 7pm on a Tuesday, but thankfully we snagged a table right by the door and were able to dump coats and umbrellas and bags before heading up to the bar. The Pony Bar is known for their American craft beer menu, and it was impressive.  They offered 20 beers on tap, as well as a couple casks.  Furthermore, the beer menu is displayed digitally (as opposed to chalk or whatever) so as soon as a keg gets kicked, it gets replaced with something else and the menu gets updated.  You can view their beer selections live on their website.  Bartenders were friendly and not elitist beer snobs (ahem, The Gate...).  Clientele was totally mixed - plenty of young professionals, but also lots of bearded beer nerds (call me!) and older adults as well.  I hope when I'm old (like, 32), I'm still slinging back pints of craft beer on a Tuesday night.


I was tempted by the Smuttynose Really Old Dog Brown Dog, an Old Ale from Smuttynose's Big Beer Series which is somewhat more difficult to find, but figured a beer with 9.3% ABV was a bit much for a casual Tuesday beer.  I went with an Elysian Avatar Jasmine IPA.  Elysian is located out in Washington State, so I figured I should probably get my body used to west coast brews before my trip later this month.*  It's just like marathon training!


The Avatar Jasmine had a floral aroma and taste, which sounds gross, especially for someone like me who isn't into herbal teas, but it was actually really pleasant.  There was also some light citrus and hops bitternness, so it didn't taste like drinking a garden and was more subtle than that.  The floral notes came across as muted-sweet.  It was unexpected, but I actually quite liked it.  So much that one casual Tuesday beer turned into two!


We stayed until about 8:30, and by then the post-work crowd had thinned out and there were seats at tables and the bar, so if you don't want to do battle for a bar stool, maybe consider working late before you head over.  We walked to Port Authority to get the train afterward, and it was less than 10 minutes away, so The Pony Bar really not that inconvenient to get to.


Oh and perhaps most notable about The Pony Bar is that all their beers are $5.  Five bucks!  How awesome is that?


In summation: go to The Pony Bar.  Invite me.  I'll even pay for your first beer.  It's only $5!


*Like every New Yorker, I'm not sure there's a difference between Washington and Oregon.  And Canada.

Sunday Wrap Up: Goose Egg

I ran 0 miles this week.  And I don't even feel bad about it.


On Wednesday morning, my legs - especially left IT band and hamstring, which acted up towards the end of last weekend's 50k - were still feeling tight from my race, and I decided that, with no races on the calendar until the end of June, I could afford to indulge in longer-than-usual post-race R&R.  


On Thursday morning, I woke up to lightening.  


On Thursday evening, I got drunk.  


On Friday morning, I woke to lightening and a mild hangover.  


On Friday afternoon, I traveled by bus to Boston.


A note: I'm sorry I cheated on you, Acela.  I will never, ever, ever make that mistake again, and am thankful for our reunion in the quiet car tonight.  I love you, don't ever change.


6 hours later, I arrived in Boston for Caroline's bachelorette party.  I packed running clothes, the weather was overcast and cool and basically ideal for a marathon, as opposed to the conditions with which I was presented when I was in Boston to run the marathon 3 weeks ago.  But once I got there, I decided running could wait, and I'd much rather just relax with friends for a long weekend.  


Well technically, the only running I did was away from Red Sox fans I tried to pick fights with, as seen here:

We had a glorious weekend filled with baseball and beers and beach-themed cupcakes, and I didn't run a single step.  And I liked it.


Is running an invaluable tool in the maintenance of health, mental and otherwise, and well-being?  Absolutely, yes.  Can good friends and foam fingers and being a little selfish and indulgent achieve the same?  Also yes.


Number of Miles Run This Week: 0.  


Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 1 billion


Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Bud Light, Harpoon IPA, Green Monstah IPA (don't worry; as a New Yorker, I hate myself), and, um, other things.  That were rimmed with pink sugar.  


I hope to find myself in Prospect Park tomorrow morning.  You may not recognize me without the foam finger...

On Mania

I have considered myself a maniac for some time.  I am maniacal about my love for Hall & Oates (and now Wiz Khalifa, who, holy shit, is basically IN MY BRAIN RAPPING ABOUT MY LIFE), about my fondness for cheese fries, and about the Giants.  Also, people who are from Maine are sometimes called Maniacs, and while I'm not from Maine, I think my temporary residency and frequent return trips at least grant me some kind of quasi-Maniac status.

As it turns out, my 50k on Sunday also qualified me to be a Marathon Maniac.  According to the criteria listed on their website, one has earned Bronze Level Maniac status upon the completion of 2 marathons within a 16 day time frame.  As I understand it, one must run at least 26.2 miles in each event to qualify, so while my two races in 16 days were not 2 marathons, but a marathon and an ultra, I still pass muster.  Bronze is the lowest-level maniac, and that link is worth a look if you're interested in seeing what kind of crazy stuff people are doing.

My question is this: what is the point of being a Marathon Maniac?  I'm not judging here; I'm genuinely asking.  From what I can gather, members pay a $35 initiation fee ($65, if you'd like the Marathon Maniacs singlet), and annual dues of $10.  In return, they receive confirmation that they are in fact a Marathon Maniac, via an identification number.  What does one do with this?  Does that get added to my resume, Facebook profile, email signature, and Craigslist personal ad?  Or is it like a secret handshake that I reveal only to other Maniacs?  And if so, how do I know who they might be, if they are not wearing a singlet?

Running a lot of miles in a short time frame is bad ass and not easy.  I assure you of this, for I woke up at 6:15am to go running but decided my legs are still too sore, which is why I'm blogging so early instead.  People who put back weekend after weekend of high mileage deserve to be recognized for that effort; you bet I posted to Facebook on Sunday that I'm basically an American hero because I raced a 50k 13 days after Boston.  But Facebook is free.  

Are you a Maniac?  What made you decide to opt for this formal recognition?  Are there other benefits to membership?  If I don't join, will I be sad that I'm not part of the cool kids club?  Is everyone having fun without me?!

Race Report: Jack Bristol Lake Waramaug Ultra Marathons

Guess what! I figured out what that weird acronym in the email subject I received stands for! Jack Bristol Lake Waramaug Ultra Marathons.  Or something close to that.


Some general race info: I registered for this race in February or March, when I realized I had a conflict on the day of the NJ Trail Festival.  I checked out marathonguide for nearby 50ks on weekends I was available (rapidly dwindling...), and found JBLWUM in Kent, Connecticut.  Lake Waramaug State Park is actually in three adjacent cities in Connecticut, but Kent was the only one I'd heard of.  The race offers three ultra distances run simultaneously: 50km, 50 miles, and 100km, with each race consisting of increasing numbers of loops around the lake, each of which is 7.6 miles.  The 50k cost $55, and all races ended up selling out by early April, so get in early if you're interested.  And you should be!

The course is breathtaking: paved, with minimal traffic, around a picturesque lake, with gorgeous real estate, and some cows that add to the "rural Connecticut" feel but don't even smell!  The website describes the course as "rolling," and I was a little apprehensive, since I couldn't find an elevation chart on the website, but that description is generous.   Here's the elevation chart from my Garmin:

I don't think that's 100% accurate, since the course was 3 loops with a bit tacked on at the beginning and end, and I don't see three repeated segments, but it's close enough.  The undulations were minimal.  Though it was 3 loops, each was long enough so that a) you didn't get bored - a big fear of mine, since at the Knickerbocker 60k I stayed sane over so many loops only because I had friends join me for each of them, and b) you weren't lapping or getting lapped by the same people over and over, which can be discouraging.  It was sort of weird to be running with 50 milers and 100 kmers, because it made it difficult to gauge whether or not you were running at an appropriate pace, especially for someone like me who was running her first 50k; obviously I was hauling ass a lot sooner than someone who was running twice as long as me.  But it was fun to chat with other runners and learn about their ultra careers, and every participant I encountered was more than happy to do so.  


One of the only marks against this race is that it's not very easy to get to.  I went out to Connecticut on Saturday afternoon and spent the night at my parents', and still had to be out the door by 5:15am to get to the park with time to pick up my bib and do whatever it is we pretend to be doing when really we're all just milling about the start area.  In addition to being far from any major city (even Danbury, which is only a major city by Connecticut standards), the park is also only accessible by local roads; my drive was 48 miles, and only 4 of them were on a US Interstate.  It's really hard to read directions and street signs when it's still dark out.


That said, once you get there, parking is a breeze; I pulled into the State Park lot at 6:45am, easily found a spot, had access to running water and flushing toilets in the park facilities, and was a 3 minute walk to the start area.  I waited in line for approximately 15 seconds to get my chip, bib, and race t-shirt.  There was a tented bag drop at the start/finish, so runners had access to whatever of their own stuff they needed, in addition to everything offered at each of the four aid stations.  


And I mean everything.  Water, Gatorade, Coke, ginger ale, Goldfish, Saltines, cookies, jelly beans, pretzels, oranges, bananas, chicken soup, eggs, bacon... and that's just what I spied or was offered.  Volunteers were over-the-top helpful; I had barely pulled into one aid station before someone was taking my handheld to fill it up and checking to see what else they could feed me or give me.  Aid stations were about every 2.5 miles, and while I did run with both my own fuel (2 Gus) and liquid (Nathan handheld), you could certainly run this race relying only on aid station support.


Even the race director, Carl, was super hands-on.  During the first loop, he drove passed the runners and at each of us, he stopped and said "How's it going out here?  Everything okay so far?"  Though to be honest, I had a soft spot for him already because he has the same name as my Garmin. 


About my race: As for my own personal race experience, it was a terrific one.  Not just because I performed well (though, duh, I did), but I really enjoyed myself as well.  I had no time goal in mind, this being my first 50k, but did want to feel like I was putting my Boston training to good use and run a hard effort.  While not nearly as challenging a course as Boston, this was, obviously, 5 miles longer.  


The first portion of the course is a 2.2 mile out-and-back, and after Mary introduced herself to me at the start area, we set off together.  We exchanged war stories about races and post-race antics, and ran at a comfortable pace.  I kept my jacket on for this portion, because it was still early, but by the time we headed back towards the start/finish area, I was ready to ditch it.


Mary and I drifted apart after the out-and-back, and I continued greeting the other runners as I approached.  Unfortunately, I never did find someone to latch on to and run with for any substantial distance, but it was still nice to exchange "Good morning!"s and "Looking great!"s with everyone I passed.  I was feeling good clicking off sub-8 minute splits, so I decided for that first full loop, I'd aim to keep all my miles sub-8:00, and gradually slow down with each loop.  Because positive splitting is definitely what most people plan to accomplish during a race...  As I came through the start/finish area, I was informed I was the second woman.  Well hooray!  Only 27 miles to go...

I had everything I needed with me for that first loop, so didn't stop at any of the four aid stations, but all the volunteers were super friendly, and I promised I'd see them again.  The first station (Monkey Station) was staffed by girls in leis and coconut bras.  The second was in a parking lot that also housed a hot dog and pulled pork truck, and I'm not sure if the two were related. The third station was staffed by one man who'd erected a sign listing "Marathon Legends Running Today."  He'd written about a dozen names, and how many marathons and ultras they'd run.  All were upwards of 200.  I told him I had some catching up to do.  The fourth station was at the start finish area, where all of the spectators were stationed (and there were actually quite a few), so it was always nice to hear some cheers.


I was a little slower than intended on that first full loop, averaging an 8:03 pace.  As I set out for my second loop, I decided I'd try to keep all my mile splits sub-8:15.  Once again, I breezed by Monkey Station without stopping, but when I got to the parking lot station, my handheld was refilled, I grabbed a cup of Gatorade, and was offered bacon and eggs, which I politely declined on account of having 15 more miles to run.


The stretch between the parking lot station and the Legends station was the main road, outside the state park, and because it wasn't protected, it was very windy.  I stuck with a long sleeved top and gloves, and was glad to have both.  I kept plugging away, chatting to some fellows who were doing the 100k, and counted down my miles.  I passed a few women in this stretch, but having had no idea what race they were running and what position I was in, I tried not to get greedy and just focus on running my own race.  I finished loop 2 averaging 8:09/mile.


For the third and final full loop, I was aiming for sub-8:30 splits, and could break the remaining mileage down into distance to 26.2 and then the five miles after that.  I grabbed Gatorade at the start line aid station and forged ahead, beginning to feel a little tired.  Gatorade at Monkey Station, pretzel rods at the parking lot, an orange at the Legends station... I was trying to take in some calories whenever I could without eating anything I wasn't sure would sit with me.  I had no idea where I stood in the rankings, but was pleased with my splits thus far and didn't want to blow it with stomach pains. Or full on pooping my pants.  


I came across the "26.2 miles" spray painted onto the sidewalk in 3:34.  Let's talk about that for a minute.  A Boston qualifying time in its own right, that's 16 minutes faster than I actually ran Boston.  Eff weather. 


Moving on, I had just 5 miles to go.  I was tired.  But as I do in every race, I was calculating how much I could slow down and still run certain times. "If I slow down to 9 minute miles, I could still run 4:25.  If I slow down to 10 minute miles, I could still run sub 4:30."  Again, while I hadn't gone into the race with a time goal in mind, now that I'd come this far, I wanted to set one, and then exceed it.  


I came through the start/finish having averaged 8:26/mile for loop 3, and then had to head to Monkey Station and back one more time.  With about 4 miles to go, the leader passed me going in the other direction.  He looked like he was flying.  I gave him a clap and a whoop and didn't see anyone coming behind him for miles.  Dude killed it.


With 3 miles to go, my left hamstring got very tight and started affecting my gait.  The only other time this has happened was with about a mile to go during the Smuttynose Marathon.  A mile was survivable, but I was concerned about doing serious damage by limping for 3 miles.  I spent about another mile considering what would happen if my leg suddenly just broke off out here in the middle of nowhere.  But I got distracted from thinking about that when runners 2, 3, and 4 cruised down the hill in front of me and blew by headed for the finish.  And one of them was a woman!  Damn her!  But with a 2 mile lead on me, there was no way to catch her.  Fine, I thought, then I sure as hell better finish as the second woman.


I passed Monkey Station for the last time, hit the turnaround, and pointed back towards the finish.  Naturally, this seemed like an interminable distance.  And there were a good number of people around me that I wanted desperately to stave off.  A friendly guy named Kurt started talking to me just after the turnaround, and we ran together for a few.  But when he reminded me "yeah we're about the 5th and 6th overall," I was like "you mean you're the 6th overall," and laid down the hammer.  Only I didn't say that, because ultra runners are super friendly and non-competitive.  But I thought it.  I pulled ahead of Kurt and gave it one last push.  I crossed the line 5th overall, 2nd woman (only 13 in the field...), with a time of 4:17:32, 8:17 average pace.  


That's 5 minutes faster than my first marathon time.


And Kurt was indeed 6th overall.

Also, the next woman was like an hour and 15 minutes behind me, so there wasn't tremendous need for me to gun it on the homestretch, but one never knows.

Post race, Carl (the race director, not my Garmin) once again checked on me, making sure I was okay, handing me my medal, and telling me where I could find food and anything else I needed.  I shook his hand and thanked him for a great race.  And it really was.  Beautiful day, scenic course, friendly people.  And hot dogs!

Sorry I ate most of it before I took this.  Also, sorry that there were like 4 pictures in this post and one is a mostly-eaten hot dog.  I didn't carry my phone on me to take pictures on account of it being a race.  Deal.


Oh also, deal with this.

Because I have to.


So anyway, did I like this race?  For sure.  As I mentioned, I borderline overdosed on endorphins on Sunday.  Exhibit A.

And so modest!


But provided you have a way to get out there, I would recommend this 50k to anyone.  My ultra experience is obviously severely limited, but this was exactly what I was hoping for: laid-back people enjoying themselves while spending a few hours in the woods.  Though I didn't know anyone, I hung around after the race for almost an hour, talking to other runners and their families and the volunteers because I was enjoying myself so much.  I am significantly more sore than I am after marathons, but I don't care.  That's what beer is for.


I AM GOOD AT ALL THE THINGS!