Monday Wrap Up: Half Time

July was high season for weddings this year; there were four Saturdays this month.  I had three weddings, one bachelorette party, and one bridal shower.  I don't claim to be a math whiz, but even I can crunch those numbers and determine that there weren't enough free weekends for all of the fun stuff.  Which is possibly why I attended a wedding this weekend, but behaved as though it were a bachelorette party...

There was a Sno-Cone machine at the rehearsal dinner.  I made Bud Light flavored Sno-Cones

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 37.  As I mentioned, Saturday's 14 miler was the furthest I've run since my 50k in April, so I was pleased to determine I have retained enough muscle memory to pull off some decent mileage.  I've also officially made it through 4 weeks of base training.  As a result, I've also gained back any post-marathon/ultramarathon/breakup weight I lost back in the Spring.  Running is stupid like that.  Or I am, for eating.  Either way...

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week:  This number probably actually isn't that high for a wedding weekend, even though I was engaged in ample hi-jinx this weekend.  That's because I drank shots of Patron with our bride's father all night instead.  That worked out well...  Anyway, let's guesstimate 20.

Bridesmaids and beers

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week:  Caroline actually called me two weeks ago to run their beer choices by me ahead of time.  I love a bride who wants to make me a focal point of the evening (I actually accidentally did that on my own when I may have pulled slightly too far into a parking spot and took out a pole in front of the hotel, with the bride in the car, on her wedding day, but that's a story for another time).  Caroline and Chris served Leinenkugel's Summer Shady, Harpoon IPA, and Bud Light.  I also brought up some Whale's Tail Pale Ale and Indie Pale Ale, since Caroline was who introduced me to Cisco Brewers.  We didn't drink them all, and I remembered somewhere in Rhode Island on the drive home that I'd left a fridge full of beer in the hotel.  Consider it a good will offering, on account of the pole incident.

Caroline is more of a Mount Gay kind of girl

So with July now behind me, I'm at wedding season half time.  It's a good thing too; I could use a Gatorade, a massage, and a pep talk to get me through.  Being the best wedding attendee ever is exhausting.

Double Duty Recovery

Another Saturday morning, another run whose principle purpose is to sweat out the toxins from the previous night's rehearsal dinner. Let the record show that, in our bridesmaids' toast last night, my role was to talk about the evolution of Caroline's taste in intoxicants, from Milwaukee's Best in college to Mount Gay today. I talk about how Chris was such a good influence on her, and taught her to appreciate the finer things in life. I did all this while drinking a Bud Light.

Today I was actually recovering from yesterday's long run in addition to last night's Bud Lights (and Harpoons. And Whale's Tail Pale Ales...). And if you have to be recovering from anything, let alone two things, along the beach in Cape Cod isn't a bad place to do it.




Happy wedding day, Caroline and Chris!

Highway Safety

14 of the sweatiest miles I've ever run are done. By mile 9, I had to knot my tank top, 80s style, to keep it from gluing itself to my gut with sweat. By mile 12, I ran out of water and considered drinking from a puddle. I resisted and finished without giardiasis.

Fun fact about today's run: it was the farthest I've run since April 29th. Which, incidentally, is the day I ran 31 miles. But 14 is cute...

My sneakers are actually in the trunk of this rental car, but I can't promise they'll see any part of Cape Cod except the parking lot of the hotel.

Anyway, now that the running thing is over with, I've got a road trip to get on, so buckle up!



I'm serious about road safety. And about having the necessary supplies on hand to a cocktail while I get my hair done.

Regular-cation

Seems I have a ways to go before I can be considered a master of the trails...

How does that happen without crawling through the dirt, which I promise I wasn't doing this morning? In any case, I have a few weeks to practice trail running before my next runcation, which I'll talk about when I return from my next non-runcation (also know as "regular vacation"), which begins tomorrow, when I head to Cape Cod for my college buddy Caroline's wedding (note: it's hard to garner much sympathy from anyone when you go on vacation as much as I do.  That's fine by me.  I don't need your sympathy; I'm rich bitch!*)


Before I head off to the Cape, however, I have to get in a long run, since Lord knows I don't intend do anything except fawn over the bride and wallow in hungover self-pity this weekend.  I'll be heading out to Connecticut tonight to pick up a car, so I've already mapped myself a nice little run through suburbia.

Please don't use that map to break into my parents' house and rob them.  Not that it would be worth it, since they've spent all their money on their two children, who pretend they're rich by going on vacation once a month.  They do usually have good snacks, though.


Anyway, tomorrow morning, 14 miles, 3 towns, 2 states, immediately followed by 4 hours in the car, during which I'll insist we listen to 1 song only, on repeat (Call Me, Maybe, obviously).  Get ready to get ready.


*Note: I'm not rich.

Sunday Wrap Up: Where It All Began

I was back in my hometown of Rye, NY for a wedding this weekend.  When I wasn't drinking every intoxicant legal in the state of New York, demanding late night french fry orders, or stripping my dress off in the bathroom to cool down from dancing aggressively (yes, really...), I had the opportunity to run (slowly, swearing, and very hungover) with my friends Nina and Cate on some of the routes I used to run in high school.

Rye is pancake-flat, but is a wonderful place to run because it offers some truly spectacular views of Long Island Sound, the NYC skyline, some amazing houses, and Nina dry heaving at the end of the run. It was nice to have the opportunity to revisit my old stomping ground, and I couldn't believe I'd run some of my first road races there more than 20 years ago.  I've come a long way, baby.  Minus the inability to heed my limits when it comes to alcohol intake.


Number of Miles Run This Week: 38.  I swore up and down over brunch this morning that I'd run 15 miles when I got back into the city this afternoon.  Instead I took a 3 hour nap and ran 11 miles.  I had to stop 4 miles in and return to my apartment to go to the bathroom, which is not NOT a consequence of eating dirty chili cheese fries at 1:30am.  I swear in high school, my gut must have been made of lead.  Or maybe dirty chili and cheese.  Either way, turns out grown ups cannot eat like that and be functioning members of society.


Number of Beers Consumed This Week: Well, at least one was consumed while doing push ups on the dance floor last night...


Types of Beers Consumed Last Week:  All of them.  Kudos to Megan and Ralph for having an ample beer selection last night, from which I selected amply.  Brooklyn Lager, Sierra Nevada, Heineken, plus I think some Elder Betty, Brooklyn Summer Ale, and Blue Moon somewhere over the course of the weekend.  Also, I made a post-run pit stop at Pony Bar one night this week and found Maine Peeper Ale on draft!  Yes please!


Congrats to Megan and Ralph on an awesome party.  And, oh yeah, the marriage thing too.

When Animals Attack

I went for a run in Prospect Park around 9pm tonight. For the most part, the park is well-lit, especially in the summer when there are concerts going on. But there was one stretch, just before the big hill, where a few street lights were knocked out tonight, presumably as a result of this afternoon's storm. I was busy trying to be a bad ass (also, trying to maximize the burrito I ate for lunch by running hard) as I came up to that stretch. In fact, I had just chicked a shirtless dude and was feeling pretty awesome about it as I powered up the hill ahead of him, careful to hold perfect running form and  suck in my cellulite   flaunt my body which was basically designed for shorts shorts while he checked me out, which he did, obviously.



It was love.

But suddenly, out of nowhere, I was attacked.




A horrifying , rabid, possum-like creature came out of nowhere, slinking from the darkness directly at my ankles. I was so busy being an ideal running specimen that I didn't even notice until it was upon me. Using my quick-thinking skills and channeling my high school indoor track 55m hurdle prowess, I leaped over the creature just in the nick of time.




Unfortunately, I simultaneously let out the most high pitched, girlish squeal, followed immediately by a string of vulgarities that would intimidate a sailor, let alone a shirtless runner in Prospect Park. I was so rattled by both my animal encounter and subsequent reflexive response that before I knew it, the shirtless man was shaking his head and laughing as he passed me back and headed off into the night, never to be seen again.




True love waits? Or sprints ahead and leaves you to get rabies. Either or.

UPDATE: Thursday Evening Dive Bar Run

Because I felt so great after last Thursday's run-and-drink combo...

/ Opens new tab.  Googles "where does depression hurt, tequila"

Anyway, come out on this Thursday at 7pm for a pre-weekend dive bar run.  We'll meet at Nelson Rockefeller Park (same start as the Trilegathon; take the 1, 2, or 3 train to Chambers Street and run west along Chambers until you hit the water or find a tall, strawberry blonde, loud girl wearing shorts of questionable appropriateness) and hook around the bottom of the island before finish up at John Street Bar and Grill (yes, I picked it specifically because the write up mentions a "make-out nook").    

Hope to see you Thursday!

Addendum: if there's a thunderstorm on Thursday evening, we'll skip the running and meet at the bar at 7pm.  You're welcome to run, but I won't be joining you, as I'm usually the tallest and most likely to be struck by lightening.  

Sunday Wrap Up: What You Missed

Seems the legions of adoring fans are wondering what I've been up to:

And by "legions of adoring fans," I mean "my mom."  And yes, my mom tweeted at me on Friday night, because she loves and cares about me.  Just not so much that she feels compelled to use normal channels of parent-child communication.


Anyway, lest you've been wondering what I've been up to:

On Friday, I learned how to drink my beer with my bulging biceps (and thank God Abbe was there to capture the moment for posterity...)

On Sunday, I put my new skill to work after my run.  It was a lot less fun with water.

So, Mom, next time you're wondering what I've been up to, don't.  You won't be happy with the answer.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 39. Today's run was one of the biggest mental challenges I've ever faced while running, and I once ran 37 miles of loops in Central Park.  The difference, I think, is that in a race, you're committed to finishing.  But in a regular workout, you can just cut it short, especially if you pass your apartment 3 times, as I did on this run.  So when you start to feel shitty, as I did very early on, it's very hard to make yourself keep going.  I started at 10:00am, which was among the worst decisions I've ever made.  I set out to run somewhere between 10 and 15 miles.  At mile 6, I had nothing left in the tank. But I finished with 11 miles, and am more proud of this feat than I am of graduating from college. Sorry about that $160,000, Mom and Dad.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 10.  Full disclosure, I drank 3 colossal margaritas on Thursday night, post-run, and had the most raging tequila depression and anxiety on Friday.  Note to self: stick with beer.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week:  I cured the tequila blues with a Coors Light at Stan's in the Bronx on Friday night.  I normally won't drink Coors Light, because everyone knows Bud Light is the superior shitty light beer, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  I also drank a Goose Island Honkers Ale at Yankee Stadium, as pictured above.  What self-respecting New York sports team serves Chicago beer?  Other selections from the week include Bud Light, Guinness, Negra Modelo, Corona, and Sixpoint Crisp Lager.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get a gun license.  For my biceps.  Get it?

So It's Settled

"So you can go shave your back now.  Bye, Jason."


Great news: the date and locations for the 4th Edition of "We'll Run For Beer" are set.  Sunday, August 19th, 3pm.  So go ahead and respectfully decline whatever wedding you were invited to that weekend.

Is it going to be hot in August in New York?  Yes.  But I'm busy with weddings and bachelorettes in September and October, and then in November I have to stop drinking so I can win (read: not win) the Rehoboth Beach Marathon in December, so August it is.  Plus, this one is pretty short, and you can cool off with beers (and short shorts).   Head on over to the Beer Runs page to take a look at the map, get more details, and criticize my selection of venues, you ungrateful bitches.

Monday Wrap Up: A Blessing and a Curse

Everyone seemed a bit thrown off last week with the Wednesday holiday. On the one hand, it made the work week feel like a Thursday, a Friday, a weekend, and then another Thursday-Friday-weekend. On the other hand, going back to work on Thursday proper was less than ideal.

On the running and beer front, the same mixed feelings apply. I got to run long twice last week, thanks to the holiday, and the Thursday-Friday-weekend pattern left me primed for drinking. But maybe too primed for drinking...

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 42. This fat-lete actually works out from time to time! With the Wednesday holiday and an early closing on Tuesday, I felt like I had to make the most of my free time and get in as much running as I could. I even squeezed in yoga and tennis last week. And it's a good thing, because please see the next tally...

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: Don't judge me, but I had 30 beers last week. With the Wednesday holiday and an early closing on Tuesday, I felt like I had to make the most of my free time and get in as much beer drinking as I could. Fat-lete status: confirmed.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Brooklyn Lager, Brooklyn Pilsner, Brooklyn Pennant Ale, Corona, Magic Hat Elder Betty, Sixpoint Sweet Action, Sixpoint Crisp, Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA, Dogfish Head Raison D'Etre, and one million Bud Lights.

Remember when I was all "its July and time to shape up my act to get ready for the upcoming marathon season?" Well I made progress on the running front, but the drinking could probably come down a notch. Or ten. Which I'm sure will happen at the bridal shower and two weddings I have in the next three weekends...

My New Normal

May and June were super fun months.  I ran a little, drank a lot, stayed out too late, and subsisted on a diet of Claritin and hummus.  But now we've arrived in July, the month before marathon training starts, which means we've arrived at the base-building phase.


I hate the base-building phase.


Even when I'm not training, I don't stop running altogether (well, except that one time I did).  So you would think that base building - the process of getting your legs and lungs ready for marathon training via ramping up your weekly and long run mileage - isn't so much a distinct phase as it is a continuation of the status quo for me. You'd be wrong, unless the base I were building were blood alcohol content.  And that's why I hate base-building.  I like to think I already have a solid fitness base, since it's not like I ever stop running. But at minimum, consistent 25 mile weeks are recommended in base phase.  (I personally aim for 35-ish mpw as base, as that's both the number of miles I can reasonably sustain without injury or eating everything in sight, and also the magic number that will ensure I'm running more miles per week than I am drinking beers per week.  Usually)  So, surprise surprise, 22 miles a week does not a training foundation make.  And so I find myself, before the season has even begun, already confronting my shortcomings.  Thank God I'm funny, smart, tall, thin, successful, attractive, and have nice hair, because it's a blow to the ego when you realize you need to put in actual work just to get to the place where you can start training.


Anyway, in an effort to build my base without giving my self a formal regimen that will make me hate training before it's even begun, I've decided to focus on extending my "normal route."  By tacking on a couple extra miles to my normal run, a couple of times I week, I can hit 35 mpw without even noticing a change.  Theoretically.


Every runner has a "normal route."  Generally speaking, it starts at your apartment, and is your go-to run when you just want to log miles.  Maybe you don't call it the "normal route."  My dad calls it "the short loop."  My friend Nina calls it "torture."  Whatever it is, it's a run with which you're familiar and comfortable.  You probably run it more often than not.  From my current apartment, my normal route is a little more than one loop of Prospect Park, which comes out to 5.35 miles.  

Normal

On any given morning, if I'm going out for a run, this is what I do (please don't use this information to Preppy Kill me).  I run it so often, it's second nature to me.  But in order to build up my base a bit, I want to change that nature.  Rather than just one loop of the Park, I want my new normal route to be one and a half loops of Prospect Park, or 8 miles.

New Normal.  It looks the same, with an extra line, but I do the top part twice.

I made the transition from normal to new normal this morning, and it didn't suck nearly as much as I was anticipating.  Actually, the way it breaks down kind of works in my favor; on the normal route, I exit the Park on a relatively flat stretch.  On the new normal route, I get to keep going downhill.  Granted, then I have to go up the big hill along Flatbush Avenue for a second time, but my running mind is like that of a goldfish, and I can only remember route details in one mile increments: "I was going uphill 3 minutes ago, but now I'm going downhill, which is better, so I'll keep doing it!"

So, a whopping one successful attempt at creating a new normal.  What could possibly go wrong?

How to Be Cool

This weather totally blows.  Everything I own is stained with sunscreen and deodorant.  And tears of dudes I've slayed, but that's neither here nor there.  Anyway, as I mentioned in my weekly wrap up, to keep cool of these very hot days, I've taken to icing myself post-run in places I'm not injured.  This not only cools down my core temperature, but also allows me to get some use out of my wearable ice pack, for which I paid handsomely and which, like so many other injury prevention tools available to me as a runner, I seldom use.  

Steps to Being Cool:

Step 1) Come home from a run and look truly horrifying.  Definitely take pictures of it and post them to the internet.  Grab your ice pack from the freezer.

Step 2) Insert ice pack into wearable pouch.  Contemplate how awesome it would be to be a marsupial. Appreciate shellac manicures for their staying power.

Step 3) Affix wearable ice pack to flesh.  Stomach is preferred, even though when they talk about "core temperature" they don't mean "the temperature of your ab muscles."  Also wear shit-eating grin.  Try to extract camel toe before photographing.

Step 4)  Be cool

(See what I did there?  I'm cool on multiple levels).

Sunday Wrap Up: In The Wise Words of Ke$ha

"Hot and dangerous."


(Also, "I like your beard."  Girlfriend knows what's up.)


Today it was really hot.  And instead of waking up early to run, or waiting until dusk to do it, I laced up at 2:00pm.  Do not go running at 2:00pm in the summer.  I don't know what compelled me to do this besides the fact that I'd been working all morning and needed a break.  Do not do work all morning on Sundays.  I tried to stick to the wooded trails in Prospect Park, so as to maximize shade and also maximize the likelihood that I would encounter Brooklyn's own Preppy Killer, as I would have been both a suitable target and also not that unhappy if I got murdered, since running was so bad anyway.  Alas, no one murdered me (though one guy did tell me I was looking good!  I threw up approximately 1 mile after I saw him).


Sometimes when it is really hot and I have to go running, I make myself think about the Boston Marathon. This actually doesn't help at all, because I really hated the Boston Marathon.  I need a new strategy.


Number of Miles Run This Week: 22.  That's abysmal.  I only ran 4 days this week.  A couple of things happened - I was a lot more sore than I'd anticipated after the Fairfield Half; I worked until 8:00 or 9:00 a couple nights, and I like drinking.  I know I said I wasn't too concerned with my summer mileage, but I should easily be hitting 30 miles per week.  Step it up, Walsh.


Number of Times I Pulled an Ice Pack From the Freezer Post-Run to Ice Myself in a Place I Wasn't Injured: 2.  That phrasing sounds super creepy.  I meant it in the "holy shit it is so hot out; I must ice my body to decrease my core temperature" way, not the "I have a 50-Shades-of-Grey fetish thing with ice."  I don't.  (Should I?)


Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 13.  I already stepped it up here.  The results included my head butting a guy in a bar on Thursday night.  Do not head butt people.


Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Elder Betty, Mother's Milk, Hop Angel IPA, Shock Top Raspberry Wheat (I would never pick this on my own, but I actually didn't mind it.  It was like a beer and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich all at once), Fixed Gear American Amber, Stella, Bud Light.