My Unfavorite Feeling

There are very few things that make me more uncomfortable than taking off my shirt after a workout and feeling the sweaty chest and stomach part touch my face.  

That's from an indoor, air-conditioned run.  I'm horrifying.

Because usually by the time I'm taking my shirt off, the wet spot has cooled off, and it actually feels kind of good.  And then I remember that it's my own disgusting, alcohol-filled sweat.  It's like the worst kind of facial ever.  Well, almost the worst... 

Race Report: Fairfield Half Marathon, Or The Time I Needed Adult Diapers

Last year, 9 of my friends joined me for a weekend in suburbia and the running of the Fairfield Half Marathon.  This year, not a single one of them came back.  This could be a reflection of my ability to make pasta, but I'm fairly certain it's a response to the course and conditions at Fairfield.


2012 was my 6th consecutive time running this race.  Not once in all those years has it been cool or overcast.  Or, incidentally, flat, despite some minor course revisions in that time.  So, do I blame these 9 friends for bailing?  Well, kinda.


No, this course is not easy.  The first major climb comes just after mile 2, and you spent the next 10 miles anticipating how bad the subsequent hills will be.

But this course is also beautiful, looping through Fairfield's residential neighborhoods and along the coves before finishing at Jennings Beach, where you're free to hop into the ocean (or, eat a piece of pizza) as soon as you're done.

So, fine, this isn't a place you're going to PR.  But I urge you: slap on the SPF 100 and come out to Fairfield next year!  Sometimes it feels good to challenge yourself (says the girl who heretofore is only committing to net-downhill marathons until she goes sub-3:20...) I'll even make you a pasta feast (as long as my parents don't move, and also continue to pay for groceries which I can then steal when I'm out there...)

Now, for the nitty gritty race report...

Pre-race:  Fairfield is about a 20 minute drive from my parents' house, so I headed out to Connecticut on Saturday for a pasta dinner (paid for by Dad), and borrowed a car (thanks, Mom!) to drive up in the morning for the 8:30 start.    

It's become a habit to take self portraits in my bedroom in my parents' house when I'm racing in Connecticut.  It's also become habit for me to race in shorts that some might consider underwear.

The race offers complimentary shuttle service from the Fairfield MetroNorth station to the starting area, and I've always taken advantage of this.  I arrived at the station about 7:00am, bumped into my high school lacrosse teammate, Lauren, in the parking lot, and boarded the shuttle to the beach with her.  We were picking up our bibs by 7:30.

I was bib 548 this year, out of 4500 participants.  I think I registered the day it opened. I really like this race.

This was to be Lauren's first half marathon, so she asked a lot of questions and I tried to answer them honestly but without scaring the shit out of her.  "It's pretty hilly, but you get to look at beautiful houses, so that's a nice distraction.  There are bands on the course, and pipe-and-drums, and probably popsicles at the end." (No dice this year; a hot dog truck was where the ice cream truck had been last year).  While Lauren found a Porta Potty, I collected my race shirt and dropped my bag at gear check.  Lauren intended to get her shirt post-race, because she wasn't checking a bag, but I did notice that this year, gear check offered plastic bags if you wanted to check gear but didn't have a vessel in which to do so.  One of the few drawbacks of this race, which is otherwise fantastically organized, is that gear check is on the beach, so you run the risk of getting sand in your sneakers when you drop off your bag.  You'll probably survive, though.


Eventually, we made out way to the women's start.  A couple of years ago, the men's and women's starts at Fairfield were split onto two perpendicular streets, to accommodate the growing field.  This isn't a strict policy, and there are always interlopers who are running with their friends or significant others.  This also isn't nearly as effective as assigning corrals, but having run this race enough times before, I tried to position myself close to the front of the women's start.  I shook Lauren's hand and wished her a great race and we were off.


The race:  I went into the race determined to run a moderately hard effort and finish in 1:45 or better.  Not a tremendous challenge for me, but since the half is most assuredly not my speciality, and my training and antics leading up to the race were not exactly Olympic caliber (unless drunken hookery is an Olympic sport now, in which case U-S-A!, U-S-A!), I thought this was a fair objective.


The first mile, as always, was congested, and I probably wasted more energy than I needed weaving.  Maybe by my 7th year racing this (um, or any race ever...) I'll learn.  Anyway, mile 1 clicked off in 8:08 and we were joined by the boys as we headed for the start of the hills.


This race has a long history with the local fire department, and as they do every year, firemen were out along the course opening hydrants, showering us with hoses, and staging misting stations.  For once, I had remembered to lock my Garmin bezel, so it wasn't toggling back and forth between screens every time it got wet.  Genius!  Unfortunately, I did not remember that I was covered in SPF 9230, and my eyes were burning from sunscreen as soon as I got my face wet in the first hose.  Idiot.


Though the most scenic, the stretch through Southport (miles 2.5 through 5-ish) is my least favorite.  You start up a giant hill, run along a ridge, tear down a hill to the water, and then tackle what should be 2 rollers, but are actually longer and steeper than that.  Then you run for a stretch on the sunniest road known to man, which naturally has just been repaved and is the blackest black asphalt imaginable, and then up another hill and over the highway. But I swear this is a fun race...


Anyway, I'm not normally one for previewing courses much before I race them, with the thinking that, you're already signed up; what difference does it make, since you're running it no matter what it looks like.  But experience proved to be helpful in Fairfield, because even though I felt like shit by mile 5 (true story...), at least I knew that the back half, and especially the last 2 miles, were favorable.  I had something to look forward to.  


I took a Gu at mile 5 and realized I had to pee pretty badly.  We were entering my favorite part of the course: a shady, wooded area that offers the only respite from the heat.  I was hoping it would also offer respite from my increasingly urgent need to pee, but given that it was a nice day, there were many spectators out, diminishing the number of side streets on which I could drop my running shorts without exposing myself to others.  I kept running and tried not to think about it.  


I was running with a handheld full of water, but tried to grab Gatorade as often as I could.  While the pint-sized volunteers were adorable, they aren't very skilled at 1) possessing arms long enough to reach out and hand you cups, nor 2) wanting to let go of said cups when you grab them, nor 3) making eye contact and understanding that said eye contact is an indication that you would like their cup.  Again, you're not going to PR in this race, so the added time it takes to pry a cup of hot Gatorade from a 4 year old's hands isn't really going to break you, but it's worth noting.  


By mile 7, I was feeling better physically, and determine to run finish the race at a pace just beyond the point of "comfortable."  And mile 8, which includes a long downhill, did indeed click off in 7:13, but it's tough to say if my discomfort was caused by speed or a compressed bladder.  In any case, I pressed on, having another Gu at mile 9 and heading back up and over the highway, up a nasty hill to the cove in Southport, and across the two should-be-rollers-but-feel-worse, at which point I began to experience a loss of bladder control.  


I'm serious.


Once upon a time back in the spring of 2011, I was in physical therapy for injuries sustained while drunk-camping, and in passing, my physical therapist asked if I'd ever experienced "urinary incontinence" while running.  Um, no, and holy shit, no.  She pointed out that my pelvic muscles were so weak, she wouldn't be surprised if that happened.  At which point I pulled out my cellphone and called everyone I've ever slept with (just 1 person, Mom and Dad!) to prove her otherwise.  Anyway, I didn't really think about it again until Sunday, when I found myself pumping the breaks 3 miles from the finish line because wetting my shorts was imminent.  By some miracle (and by that I mean the miracle of Kegels), I maintained my dignity and relative dryness and vowed to not drink another sip until I finished the race.  Looking back, I realize I have a history of extremely close calls with respect to wetting myself while racing.  The physical therapist recommended doing some core work to prevent this.  Instead maybe I'll go all Ironman and just spontaneously start peeing while on the move.


Anyway, I haven't over-shared anything in awhile, so there you go.


I climbed up the last hill and had almost 2.5 miles of downhill and flat roads to go.  Mental math indicated I could come in close to 1:40 if I pushed, so push I did.  (Don't worry; I didn't push so hard I peed.)

Oh, sorry I look like the incredible hulk.  Too bad this was a running event and not a power lifting one...

I hit the finish in 1:40:10, and was obviously furious I wasn't 11 seconds faster.  But after I grabbed a medal (and peed!  Thank God there was no line at the beach bathrooms!), I realized I was actually pretty psyched.  1:40 is a course PR for me by about 10 minutes, and just 3 minutes off my half PR.  And while it wasn't comfortable, I was able to maintain a 7:35/mile average pace over 13.1.  Wanna know what that comes out to over 26.2?  Why, what do you know?  It's a 3:18, or the sub-3:20 I'm hoping to run in December.  On a hard course with shitty training?  I'll take it.

Post-race: In the past, I've hung around for awhile after the race, waiting for friends and eating pizza (and watermelon.  And ice cream.  And bagels... the post-race spread is amazing) and hanging out on the beach, which has meant that I've waited in very long shuttle lines to get back to the parking lots at the train station.  This year, however, I was running solo, so I grabbed my bag, put on flip flops, and headed to the shuttles ASAP.  There were no lines, and the driver ended up making a trip with just 3 of us.  Best of all, for the first time in the history of my traveling in cars, anywhere, ever, I remembered to pack a towel to sit on for the sweaty, sunscreeny drive home.  You're welcome, Mom!


In conclusion: You can read past Fairfield Half race reports here and here, if you prefer  less talk of urinary incontinence, but for the quick and dirty summary of all of my Fairfield race reports, this is a fun race.  It is hilly and hot and difficult, but just accept that and move on.  It's very well organized.  It's scenic.  It cost $50.  It's convenient, even if you aren't an adult-child who likes to hang out with your parents in Connecticut.  You get a medal and a t-shirt and a ton of post-race food.  Run it.

My Worst Nightmare

I'm seldom in my apartment for long stretches of time, so rather than notice gradual changes instituted by my roommates ("the shower isn't draining that well"), they tend to hit me all at once ("I'm up to my ankles in dirty bath water and surrounded by someone else's hair"). For example, I returned home last night to find the counter top had been rearranged to accommodate a newly acquired blender. I figured, since the weather was nice over the weekend, maybe someone was making fruity cocktails. Excellent work, like-minded ladies! Then I opened the fridge.

See that case of Sixpoint Sweet Action on the left? And way behind it, see the neck of a bottle of Elder Betty poking up? And the orange cap of everyone's favorite running replenishment/hangover elixir, Gatorade? See how they've been relegated to the very back of the fridge, behind a diet yogurt, almond milk, and (gasp!) a homemade, jarred green smoothie, presumably concocted in the aforementioned new blender?! Blasphemy! 

I can't live like this.

Monday Wrap Up: At Both Ends

This weekend, like every other of late, was another packed with so many activities, I couldn't even attend them all.  But that didn't keep me from trying.  Which is how I found myself doubled-over in front of the water cooler, soaked through my second sports bra of the day yesterday, having let my phenom-father run me around the tennis court for an hour, after racing a half marathon.  


To be sure, I've been burning the candle at both ends lately (and, after the race and the tennis match, both ends of my body - arms and legs - are sore and slightly sunburned).  But the reason I haven't stopped myself yet, even when I know it's not the healthiest, is that it's sort of been working for me: In addition to managing to hold serve against my Dad (a feat in itself), I raced a 1:40 course PR in the (hot and hilly) Fairfield Half Marathon, despite going out 3 nights last week.  At this rate, I wonder if, rather than going dry being Rehoboth, I should considering drinking double-time.  


Number of Miles Run Last Week: 33.  I'll provide a full race report of the Fairfield Half soon, but fair warning - it won't be measurably different from my notes on my previous 5 runnings of it.  Except I went faster this time.


Number of Beers Consumed Last Week:  14.  


Number of Glasses of Champagne I Poured Onto a Friend's Shirt While Attending a Cocktail Party in Bloomingdales Last Week: 1.  Sorry Ryan.


Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Brooklyn Lager, Stella, Heineken, Sixpoint Sweet Action, Goose Island Honkers Ale, Magic Hat Elder Betty, Coney Island Lager, Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA (excellent pre-race beer.  Good thing I'm running a Fall marathon in Delaware), and Kelso IPA.  Not a bad week.

Race Week Preparations

It is said that the most important night's sleep ahead of a race isn't the night before, when you're likely to be tossing and turning with nerves and constant inquiries as to whether or not you plugged in your Garmin/have enough coffee for the morning/remembered to pack your sneakers, but the night before the night before the race.  I'm racing Sunday, and slept for 11 hours last night.  Win.


Unfortunately, I was able to sleep for 11 hours last night because I slept for 2 on Thursday night, after having a "dinner" of 2 toast points with bone marrow.  What's that about not eating something you've never had before a race?

Thong Song

I was out for a run with my buddy Cate yesterday morning.  The weather was near-perfect for New York in the summer, which is rare: not quite 70 degrees and not oppressively humid.  At one point, we passed under some scaffolding and had to shift to single file.  Cate tucked in behind me as we weaved across Houston.  When there was room enough to run side-by-side again, Cate pulled up next to me and said, "Damn; those really are short shorts!"


The trouble with my avowed love of short shorts is that they're my baseline, and so when it gets really hot, I'm not left with many options for wearing less.  Unfortunately, it's about to get really hot.

Back in April, there was a lot of talk about heat and running.  Was it really that big a deal that it was almost 90 degrees during the Boston Marathon? (Yes.)  Does heat have that much of an impact on performance? (Yes.)  Do people who live in the South have a smug superiority about them because they made the terrible decision to move to a place where it's hot and humid and homophobic 11 months of the year and still manage to run? (Yes.)  


Back in April, I was completely unacclimated to running in 90 degree weather as a New Yorker.  I was unacclimated to running in 60 degree weather as a New Yorker.  This go around, it's actually summer, and I've had a few weeks of those New York City runs where gnats and things literally drown on your skin because you're so sweaty from the dirty hobo heat emanating from the sidewalks.  So while I'm not tasked with racing my goal marathon during this little heat wave, I am still planning on tackling some miles, in as few clothes as possible.  I'll be the one running in a thong.

Sunday Wrap Up: Unscheduled

For someone who professes to not like travel (that is, the act of getting to and from places; obviously I like being in new and fun spots), I sure do it a lot. When I took a look at my calendar sometime in early May, I realized I had maybe 2 weekend before Labor Day during which I wasn't planning on being out of town. Sometimes, it's just the MetroNorth shuffle: NYC to my parents' place in Connecticut or my hometown in Westchester. Sometimes, it's further afield: Boston, Chicago, Portland (either one). In either case, I'm traveling with purpose and a specific agenda: wedding, bachelorette party, birthday, race. I get back in to town on Sunday night (or Monday morning, if I'm really ambitious) with a camera full of awesome pictures, a bag full of dirty clothes, and 4 nights to recover before I do it all over again. Fun, obviously. Exhausting, definitely.

This weekend was no different on the "get outta Dodge" front; I skipped town on Thursday afternoon for a long weekend out of town at the beach with some girlfriends. The difference, though, was that we weren't planning on doing anything. This wasn't a "stay out until 4am at Surf Lodge" beach weekend (though I enjoy those from time to time...) or a "cram as many activities into 72 hours as we can" beach weekend. As proof, I packed the following: sunscreen (SPF 100 is the greatest thing that's ever happened to this strawberry blonde Irish lass), bikinis, flip flops, sneakers, sports bras. No cocktail dresses. No strappy sandals. No hairbrush (that was an accident). Ingredients for running, and ingredients for sitting on the beach. That's it. I spent 3 days waking up without an alarm, running on the beach, and spending the next 6 hours parked in a sand chair. I drank beers at 11:00am, and went to bed at 11:00pm. I wasn't even sure where my phone was all weekend, let alone how many work emails I had. I haven't been so relaxed on a Sunday afternoon since the week after the Giants won the Superbowl.





Number of Miles Run This Week: 29. 20 miles were on the beach, and 5 of those were barefoot. My calves are extremely tight from working so hard on wet sand, but I challenge you to find something more soul-reviving than running at the water's edge in the morning. And then rehydrating with a beer upon return. I didn't even shower after my runs; just threw on a bikini and jumped in the ocean.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 21 or so. Also drank: wine, sangria, cake-flavored vodka, and Bailey's. It's possible that I'm feeling relaxed because I'm drunk.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Fat Tire, Highland Gaelic Ale, Natty Greene's Southern Pale Ale, Natty Greene's Buckshot Amber Ale, Bud Light.

See you tomorrow, NYC. I'm savoring vacation mode for a few more hours.

Yet More Thoughts on Ultrarunning

Did you know I'm an ultramarathoner?  Probably not; I never mention it, and it's not on my resume.  So to bring you up to speed:


I am an Aquarius, wearer of short shorts, drinker of good beers, reacher of things on high shelves, marathoner, and ultramarathoner.  I ran my most recent ultra in April, where I came in second woman overall because I am also awesome at running, in addition to the above mentioned attributes.  And I'm modest.

I'm so good at running, my feet don't even touch!

Anyway, in case my post-race high and my glowing race report from that most recent notch on my running belt weren't enough to convince you not only that ultras are where it's at, but that the Jack Bristol Lake Waramaug Ultra Marathon is a terrific entree into ultra running, I wanted to share one last anecdote.


Imagine, if you will, that Dave McGillivray of the Boston Athletic Association sent you an email today.  It said, "Hey runners, did anyone leave their arm sleeves in the Athlete Village at Hopkinton?  And also, do you want pictures of the race?  Let me know and I'll send them to you on a CD."


That would obviously never happen; Dave McGillivray has many more important things to do than mail you sweaty arm sleeves, and Brightroom would much rather charge you $49.99 for that 8x10 of you vomiting in Natick.


Last week, I received the following email from Carl Hunt, race director of the JBLWUM:

I now have all of the pictures from the race and am currently making discs... To keep costs and time expended down, I am asking that anyone who would like to receive the discs reply by email with the address to which you would like the discs mailed. A huge thank you Kate Stoker, Jill Siladi from the Monkey Station and Glen Teitell from Freeze Frame Photo in Hackensack for both taking the photos as well as for getting them to me.  Kate and Jill run the Monkey station and do a great job on pictures every year. Glen, well, he happened to be there in support of his favorite runner and got roped into taking a lot of shots that he may not have planned on. It is great to have folks out there that are so willing to give and help out for the benefit of everyone...

There was an usually low number of personal items found after the race. The only item that I have left that is looking for its owner is a green, lightweight, fleece type jacket with the initials JTS on it. If it’s yours and would like to claim it, please let me know.

Now obviously, Dave McGillivray is dealing with vastly largely numbers of runners at the Boston Marathon than Carl Hunt is at the JBLWUM, and Dave McGillivray has done a spectacular job of it.  But that doesn't mean Carl's job is any easier.  Some of Carl's runners are out there for 12 or 15 hours running a 100k.  To keep those people safe, Carl isn't just dealing with Gatorade and Gu; he's making grilled cheese sandwiches and unwrapping packages of pretzels.  He's keeping the moleskin people in business.  He's driving around a lake all day personally asking his runners how they're doing.  He's finding volunteers who will commit to staffing aid stations from 6:00am to 9:00pm on a Sunday.  Hell, apparently Carl even put some people up in his house the night before the race!  And then he's emailing them and offering to send them photos.

I don't mean to get all political about racing (except when it comes to New York Road Runners; I'm on the record as saying that operation is a racket), and to be sure, Boston is a well-oiled and highly effective machine, but damn if Carl Hunt isn't a race director who goes so far above the call of duty to ensure that all of his runners have an awesome experience well after they cross the finish line.  

Run this race.

I believe this was our 50k winner.  You can't see from here, but he's wearing a Western States shirt.

All photos thanks to the aforementioned JBLWUM volunteers

Monday Wrap Up: True to my Word

After I reviewed my May miles, I made a pledge to myself to enjoy my off season a bit, and not get caught up in running any more so than doing it because it's what I like to do.  I was going to keep running, of course, but also keep drinking, and not feel bad if I got very good at the latter at the expense of the former. 


Last week, I made good on that pledge.


Last week, I ran 27 miles.  4 of them were with friends.  15 of them were followed by beer.  6 of them were preceded by beer.  Approximately 200 yards of them were as part of the New York Rogue Runners' Trilegathon.  Which was followed by beer.

Turns out, I am not good at three-legged racing.  I continue to excel at wearing 
short shorts, however.  Photo credit: Erica

I also: went to a wedding, ran over a chipmunk with my feet while running in the suburbs, took a Breathalyzer for fun (I swear; I didn't do anything illegal that necessitated it, and don't drive sober, let alone intoxicated), had a two-night slumber party with my childhood best friend, had a dinner date with my Mom and Dad, and went dancing at the Jane Hotel at 2am on a work night (definitely not with my Mom and Dad).  I may give up marathon training forever - this is so fun!

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 27.  I should have included a spoiler alert warning above, I guess.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 15.  Ish.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Guinness, Bud Light, Brooklyn Lager, Narragansett, Smuttynose Shoals Pale Ale, Stella, and Corona.

National Running Day

Today is National Running Day.  Thus far I have spent it as I do most of my days (except yesterday...): running.  


Incidentally, I also don't have to make many alterations to how I behave in observance of National Drink Too Much and Act in a Lascivious Manner Day.  Which is everyday.


Anyway, whether it's part of your routine or not, I hope you make time to celebrate today.  Pro tip: save the drunken lasciviousness for after the running.

On Cross Training Attempts

I almost started crying when the alarm went off at 5:35 this morning, having not yet recovered from exhaustion incurred from Saturday night's bachelorette party (and also the East Village bar crawl on Friday night.  And the 6 hours spend sampling wine in the UES on Sunday.  And the possible contraction of cirrhosis of the larynx, if that were an actual condition).  I reset it for 7:00am, and was still unhappy when it went off then and I had to get ready for a day full of meetings.


Though I packed my running clothes, I ended up working late tonight, and decided that rather than brave rain in a tank top or face the dreadmill for the second day in a row, I would engage in a little cross training.  I have no major races coming up; what better time to experiment with things other than running?  I headed home determined to put my yoga block to a more appropriate use than "short and wobbly makeshift step stool."


I got home and unfurled my yoga mat.  I got out the Yoga Zone DVD.  I positioned my yoga block just so.  I lit candles.


I did yoga for 7 minutes and 42 seconds before my phone rang and I decided to crack open a beer while I talked. 


So much for cross training.

Sunday Wrap Up: On Running and Bachelorettes

This is what I wore out last night.  In public.

It is also what I wore running this afternoon.  I wish every social occasion involved wearing a sports bra.


Also, this is what I wrote on DailyMile regarding this afternoon's run.

Truer words have never been typed.


Number of Miles Run This Week:  31.


Number of Beers Consumed This Week: More than 31.  Seriously.  3 on Monday, 1 on Thursday (so much for drying out all week...), about 8 on Friday, and I don't think it's an exaggeration to suggest I drank 20 beers last night.  (Mom, I'm sorry.)  Nothing says "I wish you a lifetime of love and happiness in your impending marriage" like binge drinking.


Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Magic Hat's Elder Betty, Saranac Pale Ale, Captain Lawrence IPA, and 28 Bud Lights.  Remember when I drank so many great beers last week?  I don't either, because I got blacked out at an 80s theme party drinking Bud Lights last night.

May Mileage

In March, I hit a monthly mileage high at 237 miles.


In April, I ran a marathon and an ultra.


In May, I ran 109 miles. Total.  I haven't run so few monthly miles since at least April 2011, and likely longer ago than that, but Dailymile only let's me view the last 12 months of activities and HOLY SHIT I'M AGING RAPIDLY.


109 miles is very few for me, and when I made this discovery, I'm fairly certainly I immediately gained 14 pounds and my pace jumped up 2 additional minutes per mile.  I did not feel awesome about myself.


But then I remembered I took a whole week off after my 50k on April 29, something I've never done before (both the whole week off, and the 50k, actually).  So at least my slacking was concentrated in one 7 day period, and not a month-long epidemic.  


Once I came to that conclusion and realized it made me feel better about myself, I wondered why.  Why did I need the validation of knowing I took one short break and not a month of short runs?  What difference did it make?


I'm not someone for whom it's difficult to find running motivation when I'm not training.  I run because I like running, so I keep doing it year round regardless of whether or not I "have" to.  But I'm not immune to the feeling of "oh my God, what will happen to me?!" when I ease up a little, cutting back mileage and cutting out speedwork.


What will happen to me?  Well, probably, I'll keep running all summer.  I'll probably log plenty of miles with my friends, as I did with AbbeLew along the Hudson last.  I won't go to the track, and I probably won't run longer than 13.1 miles.  I'll drink plenty of beers.  And in August, when it's time to start marathon training again, I'll do just that.  And probably by then, still no one will be paying me to run.  So probably, I'm just fine taking it easy for a little while.