Dispatches from Above the Dead Zone

Greetings from a post-hurricane New York City. Just a quick update from me.
Up here on East 57th Street, things are not so bad. Sure there's extremely limited public transportation, grocery stores that are rapidly running out of food, no sanitation collection, and debris in the streets. But there's also electricity and running water. I went to Bloomingdales today, for God's sake!

The same cannot be said for West 57th Street, where they're still trying to figure out what to do with this dangling crane:






Things downtown are obviously much worse. I took a walk down there today. It didn't take very long, since the Dead Zone is just 18 blocks away, but it's like another world.





No power, no cell phone service, no heat. And those of you who grew up trick-or-treating here know its not exactly balmy out this time of year.

My office is in the Dead Zone, which means I've spent the last 3 days in my apartment, answering emails when I can and watching every episode of Breaking Bad when I can't. For what it's worth, I don't recommend a show that elicits as much anxiety as Breaking Bad during an end of days scenario when you're alone in your apartment. No amount of electricity can assuage those feelings. Anyway, you might think that not going to work is awesome, especially if your friends aren't at work either. You're wrong. There's something to be said for being a productive, contributing member of society, and that something isn't "sit in your underwear watching Breaking Bad on Netflix all day!" And you know those days when you are at work, but you're bored, and by 3:00pm you think "I have read the entire Internet today"? This is like that, except the feeling hits about 9:00am.

The parks are still closed, but I did a quick run this afternoon up the East River, mostly because I was so stir crazy (and partly because I've been eating my anxiety, and as such, pizza and alcohol have been in heavy rotation in my hurricane diet). The streets are absolutely mobbed with people and cars, both from this neighborhood and who've evacuated from their own, and I saw so many pedestrians trying to cross the Queensboro Bridge, I wondered if maybe the marathon was starting early.

I did hear from my perpetually marooned parents in Connecticut today. They were miraculously spared damage, though naturally lost power before the storm even began, and are headed to a hotel tonight so their cat has someplace warm to sleep. That's legitimately what my dad's reasoning was.

I don't have any profound thoughts about this hurricane and post-storm situation. It was sort of fun to be out of the office Monday afternoon, then it was terrifying Monday night, then it was surreal Tuesday, and now it's boring, though the threat of looting and chaos is keeping things interesting. My advice for those looking for it would be that drinking mass quantities of beer is a great way to combat stuck-in-your-apartmemt boredom, if for no other reason than it makes you go to sleep.

If you've been impacted by the hurricane, I'm thinking of you. Come over. Mad Libs is more fun with refugees.

Be safe out there, everyone!

Monday Wrap Up: Types of Unpreparedness

ZOMG YOU GUYSSS FRANKENSTORM!!!!!1!!

I'm coming to you live from my apartment, which is in Zone "You have to stay here even though all the blocks around you should leave as soon as shit gets real."



That's me on 57th Street, with the orange hair. Not to be confused with Orange Zone B. You'll note Central Park has been X'ed out, as it's closed. You'll also note much of lower Manhattan is underwater. Sucks to be those guys.

As I expected to be traveling for work this week (surprise: you can't take Amtrak to Baltimore during a hurricane!), I'm not exactly prepared for this storm. My fridge has half a loaf of bread and 2 frozen chicken breasts in it, along with 12 8 beers (I drank 4 last night when it became evident that I was not going to Baltimore, or anywhere else, today). Late last week I cancelled my Internet in preparation to have new cable (NFL Red Zone what upppp) and Internet installed when I returned from Baltimore, so my only connection to the outside world is this here iPad, which is already down to 77% battery life. I don't even have a pair of wellies.

But frankly, this all seems apt, because lack of preparedness seems to be a theme in my life. The other thing I haven't bothered to prepare myself for is the Rehoboth Marathon (um, if there is one. Let's just say I hope the town of Rehoboth is slightly more prepared for this hurricane than I am). I don't really know what's happened, and last week, I couldn't even rely on the old work travel/wedding/business event/hangover excuses. But I'm still struggling to find motivation to actually train.

The weirdest part is, I still love running. I ran for an hour watching the Giants yesterday and felt great (and not just because I was watching during the first half. I would have fallen off had I been running during the 4th quarter). My easy run paces haven't suffered, and I don't feel out of shape or discouraged by the prospect of running. I just don't feel like taking the initiative to do it either.

Will I still run in Rehoboth? Yes (assuming that is a place that hasn't been washed off the map). But I think it's time to give up the goat and accept that this is going to be a training run for my April ultra, and not anything more.

Am I disappointed by that? Yes. I like to run fast, and I'd love to have a sub 3:20 marathon PR to my name, and I won't this year because I didn't do what I should have to make that happen. I'm the only one responsible or accountable to that shortcoming. But I'm going to cut myself a little slack as well. I've run 13 marathons and 2 ultras in 5 years and haven't been fully burnt out until now. Mark Sanchez has been an NFL QB for 4 years and has sucked the entire time!

Plus maybe there won't even be a Rehoboth Marathon because everything will be underwater, and then I'll go back and delete the scores of posts I've written about how I haven't been training and just tell everyone "I was totally poised to go 3:19 and then the stupid Hurricane Sandy ruined everything!"

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 15. And that's an improvement over the previous week! Oddly enough, I probably walked 40 miles last week, not as a deliberate form of exercise, but just to get from place to place (God damn it, I wish I had taken the subway when that was an option; God only knows how long I'll have to be walking around post-hurricane). Thank God for that, because with just 15 running miles over the week, I'd be on the brink of Shamu status. Which might actually have come in handy in a hurricane. Ugh, I ruin everything!




Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 18.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA, Sierra Nevada, Heineken, Bud Light in a Solo cup from a backyard keg, Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA, Left Hand Sawtooth Ale, Anchor Breckle's Brown, Dark Horse Crooked Tree IPA, Full Sail IPA.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to see if someone will deliver me breakfast in a hurricane, since I don't have breakfast foods here...

F*%k That Friday

Today we begin a new tradition over here at Will Run For Beer: F*%k That Friday. Like all good ideas, this one came about over beers last night. I cannot take credit for it, however. Actually, yes I can. I thought of this great idea all on my own! Baker, if you have a problem with that statement, list it in your own F*%k That Friday.

F*%k That Friday will be a semi regular list of this that have pissed me off over the course of the week. More than likely, F*%k That Friday won't always include things related to running or beer. If that's a problem for you, I encourage you to list it in your own F*%k That Friday.

So without further ado, I present F*%k That Friday:

1) Carrying my laptop. Jesus, was that thing made in 1987? Why is it so heavy? Carrying my laptop to work makes me feel like at least I'm getting a great back workout, but mostly what it's doing is making me incrementally shorter as I lean further and further to one side to compensate for the weight of it. F*%k that.

2) People who post political sentiments on Facebook. Across the board, irrespective of party identification, I hate people who do this. Facebook is for looking at pictures of people who got married and confirming you're more fun/attractive/successful than your exes. If I cared about your views on military spending, dude with whom I took creative writing freshman year, I'd ask you. Why are we even friends anyway? I haven't talked to you since that one semester, ten years ago. There's also an extremely high likelihood that whatever they've posted is from a blatantly biased source, and/or that the poster has literally no idea what they're talking about. What's that? Marie Claire magazine interviewed the candidates?! UNFRIEND. F*%k that.

3) Work conferences. I was in Arkansas last week. I'll be in Baltimore next week. I don't mind the trips themselves; I've made great contacts. But here in New York, my office doesn't open for business until 10am. Conference agendas begin with breakfast at 7am. Is it any wonder I'm finding it tough to get some running in? F*%k that.

The Dizzy Bat Race

Guess what I did last night.  Hint: the answer is not "went running," though it should have been, but instead I went to my friend Megan's with a bag full of running stuff, spent an hour doing a wedding brain dump with her, then fell down the stairs leaving and decided it'd be best not to work out after all.

But what I did do before I went to Megan's was pop into Modell's, where I procured the supplies and prizes for tomorrow's Dizzy Bat Race.

"But Claire, what is tomorrow's Dizzy Bat Race?"

I'm so glad you asked!

Tomorrow at 7:30pm, come out to the Great Lawn baseball fields for what will undoubtedly be a most excellent show of athleticism and probably vomit.  Here's how it'll all go down:

Rules: 

Each participant will compete individually, for time. To begin, each participant must take ten spins on the bat at home plate. Upon completion of the 10th rotation, participants will run the bases, in order. Vomiting is permitted; straying into the infield is not.

Participants must tag up at each base. Chewing tobacco is frowned upon. The winner shall be the participant who makes it to home base in the least amount of time. Intercourse without foreplay shall not count.

To the victor go the spoils, and the Dizzy Bat Race is no different.  Modell's proved to offer a wealth of baseball-themed treats, and the winner will also receive $9.50 in beer, in honor of the anti supply side economic policies in place at our own Yankee Stadium.  Afterwards, will head to Pony Bar UES for some celebratory beers (beers actually cost $5 a piece there, so I'll buy two for the winner, who will owe me $0.50, which I will expect to collect before the end of the evening).  Check out New York Rogue Runners for more information.

Tuesday Wrap Up: All The Things

I barely ran last week.  I drank a zillion beers, and spilled half as many on the dance floor.  They were mostly Yuenglings, since my brother-in-law is from Pittsburgh.  I don't regret any of it.  

And so, to the Wrap Up!

Number of Miles Run/Beers Consumed/Types of Beers/All The Things Summarized in One Photo:

Congratulations to my sister and brother-in-law.  Sorry I chugged a beer while I was signing your marriage license.  But not that sorry...

Monday Wrap Up: In Which We Succeed Just In Time to Fail Again

By Sunday evening, I was feeling pretty awesome about myself and my running last week. For what feels like the first time in months, I accomplished all of my scheduled workouts. I hit hill repeats. I knocked out a long run. I even managed 7 miles with 4 at Goal Marathon Pace on the treadmill yesterday while watching the Giants' game and didn't fall off and knock my teeth out as a result of aggressive fist-pumping and shouting. After weeks of feeling like a shell of my former marathoning self, I was back in action.





With a three-day conference in Arkansas this week and my sister's wedding next weekend, we'll see how long that lasts. I suspect "Claire goes to the track for mile repeats" hasn't been built into the conference agenda on Wednesday, and I won't apologize for using any available 2.5 hour blocks this weekend to go Gangnam Style instead of going running for 18 miles.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 41.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 14.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Lagunitas IPA, Coney Island Mermaid Pilsner, Coney Island Sword Swallower, Coney Island IPA, Shock Top Pumpkin Wheat (if you have to drink pumpkin beer, this is passable), Spaten Oktoberfest, Sierra Nevada Tumbler, Miller Lite (sorry...), Brooklyn Lager, Brooklyn Blast (a 9% ABV double IPA, this knocked me on my ass), and Founders Porter.

A Rant: On Music

There's been a lot of talk over the past several weeks about the dangers to runners in Central Park.  The discussion has largely focused on out-of-control cyclists (you know how I feel about them), and, um, rapists (to be clear, I hate rapists even more than cyclists).  But this morning I encountered another threat to my safety while running in Central Park: another runner.

I was running clockwise behind the Met, having just finished a hard workout of hill repeats, and was coasting easily toward home.  A ways in front of me was a gentleman, also running clockwise.  I was a bit faster than him, and soon was just a few steps behind him, with plenty of room on either side of him to make a move to pass.  Before I even had the chance, however, dude doesn't even turn his head to see who might be nearby and steps directly in front of me as he aims for the bridal path, taking us both down, which was not at all embarrassing because it's not as though Central Park is positively teeming with hot, fit dudes at 6:30 in the morning (yes, it most certainly is).  Surprise, surprise, this guy was wearing headphones and had no idea I was behind him.

Look, I don't really get listening to music when you're running outside to begin with.  If you hate running so much that you have to be doing something else simultaneously to distract yourself from it, maybe pick a sport you actually like, you weird compulsive exerciser.  Life is too short to do stuff you don't like (except, unfortunately, when that stuff is Excel, which you have to do despite the frailty of life).  Fine, maybe you're listening to the news or some podcast that's somehow crucial to your day.  Then get on the treadmill and give CNN your undivided attention.  At least in that scenario, you're only a threat to yourself.  Whatever the case may be, your wearing headphones outside with other people puts them in danger.  You certainly can't hear them, and when you close your eyes to headbang, you can't see them either.  It's marathon season, and if I want to get myself injured, I've already proven I can accomplish that on my own; I don't need you and Carly Rae Jepsen to do it for me.  

Monday Wrap Up: I'm Doing It! Sort Of.

If I've been half-assing my training the last several weeks, this week I stepped up to three-quarter assing.  Baby steps!

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 36! 36! Told you I was (sort of) doing it!  I didn't get my 16-miler in this weekend, as I was traveling for work and had a tight schedule Saturday and Sunday.  I did, however, squeeze in 10+ on the hotel treadmill, which was boring as sin.  The added mental challenge of staring at a plain brown wall for an hour and 25 minutes more than makes up for those 5 missing miles.  

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: I think just 6.  I drank about 6 gallons of wine this week as well.  Work events sort of forced my hand.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA, served on Amtrak yesterday.  You'll be shocked to know that after 3 of those, I didn't get a whole lot of work done on the trip back to New York.  Also Bud Light, Maine Peeper Ale, and Blue Moon.

Despite the fact that DC is a great place to run, professional obligations and lack of workout clothing that didn't consist of booty shorts and a tank top meant I had to hit up the Westin Hotel gym for my workout (oh hi, it's very suddenly not still summer).  Normally all I need in a gym is a treadmill and maybe a place where I could theoretically sit down and stretch, which I don't do because I'm lazy, but it's a nice idea.  Anyway, while I don't necessarily need a lot of perks in a gym, I appreciate them when they're offered.  The Westin has quite a few.  In addition to basic perks like individual TVs on cardio machines and cold water, the Westin offers chilled towels in a wine refrigerator in their gym, which was awesome.  Even more impressive, however, was that the Westin will provide you with sneakers and workout clothes for just $5.  The WSJ ran a piece about it when the program first launched, which you can read here.  I didn't take advantage of it (though maybe I could have been provided more seasonally appropriate things for an outdoor run, had I thought of it...), so I can't speak to the quality of the gear provided, but in a pinch, I think it would be a tremendous resource.  Assuming, of course, that it doesn't look in reality like what it looks like in their promotional materials:

Source

If that's working out, I'm doing it wrong.

Don't Call It A Comeback

Per my training schedule, I ran this morning. At 5am. On a Saturday. Before leaving for a business trip.  I saw a whopping 2 other people (none of whom appeared to be Preppy Killers) in Central Park, which made me feel particularly hard core.  

But my run was a whopping 4 miles. At recovery effort.  I also engaged in an actual rat race, and was chased by rodent for 2 entire blocks up Park Avenue. And lost.  

Seriously, don't call it a comeback.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Central Park

It seems silly to write a blog post on running in Central Park.  It's not as though I'm some running pioneer, the first to ever enter a vast space of urban greenery and think "hey I bet this would be a decent place for a workout."  Nor have I only just discovered running in Central Park.  I've been here 6 years; if that were the case, I'd deserve to have my Kinvaras revoked.  Nonetheless, something strange has happened with regards to me and training and Central Park since I moved back into Manhattan this week.  Namely, I'm actually doing some training there.

I've made no secret of the fact that something's not quite right this training cycle.  It's not the running itself I mind; I love running.  But it's the specific workouts.  The "training" part of running.  I have a lot on my plate, yeah, but I've also been struggling to prioritize workouts over, say, football and alcohol and foods with cheese atop them.  That's nobody's fault but my own (and possible Roger Goodell's, because he sets the NFL schedule but also because it's fun to blame him for everything).  Talking it out with friends has helped, but, at least this week, it seems so has Central Park.

In Brooklyn, I was fewer than 2 blocks from Prospect Park, and ran there most days.  In Manhattan, I'm between 6 blocks and 2 miles from Central Park, depending on where I enter.  So it's not as though the potential cure-all to my blasé attitude is convenience.  Further, Prospect Park has a hill.  Central Park has 5 (that I count: Harlem, 3 on the west side, and Cat).  So it's not ease of running that's turned my attitude around.  But for whatever reason, despite late nights at work events and many alcoholic beverages, waking up and training this week has been more pleasure and less pain.

Proof?  This morning's workout was 7 miles with the middle 3 at Goal Marathon Pace, which should be around 7:40 if I'm looking to PR (again, I'm still not clear if that is in fact what I'm looking to do, but let's go with that...).  I was positively dreading this workout.  My "training" has been shoddy, and I prepared myself to be discouraged when I couldn't hit the target paces.  Lo!  What's this?

It seems my warm up was extra slow this morning on account of dodging
Park Avenue's doormen and their sidewalk washing hoses.

So what have we learned?
1. I'm too good at running
2. Consistent training is unnecessary
3. Central Park is a hole in the time-space continuum
4. Roger Goodell should be fired

The more you know!

Tuesday Wrap Up: Remember Me?

Oh hai.  It’s me, Claire.  Drinker of beers (and wine and champagne this week) and runner of marathons (um, except not lately) and reacher of things on high shelves (that’s come in handy in the whole moving process).  I’m coming to you live from my new apartment on 57th Street in the great borough of Manhattan.

Lies.  I’m coming to you from my iPad, on the train, because I don’t have internet in my apartment yet.  I also don’t have a couch yet, which means I've welcomed my first visitors by making them sit on the floor.  Best hostess ever.

Last week I pretended I wasn't training for a marathon.  Reviewing the numbers will be painful, so let’s get through this quickly.  Like ripping off a band-aid.  Or like the opposite of carrying a microwave up to a 4th floor walk up…

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 18.  Told you this was going to be painful. 

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: Maybe just like 10? I could have had double that at KD and Brian's wedding on Saturday night and would have felt better on Sunday than I did nursing a 3-glass champagne hangover.  Jesus, those are LETHAL. 

Instead of running on KD's wedding day, I put a running sock in my hair

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week:  This I can do.  Sixpoint Crisp, Sixpoint Sweet Action, Harpoon IPA, Heineken.  The very first thing off the moving truck on Sunday was a case of beer.  My guys know where my priorities lie.

So when I last left you, I was threatening to maybe not “race” Rehoboth in December.  I’d still run it, of course, but just maybe not commit myself to aiming for sub 3:20, which seems a little aggressive considering I ran 18 miles total last week and am about to start a job which already has me traveling three times in October.  After some soul searching and friend-confiding (and alcohol), I’m feeling a bit less overwhelmed.  As Abbe pointed out, I don’t have to decide anything about Rehoboth today.  Or tomorrow.  The race isn't until December.  And as Baker pointed out, I could always use it as a long training run for the Connemara Ultra in April.  During which we may try to take home gold for the US in the ladies’ half, men’s full, and ladies’ ultra (that’s where I come in), but that’s a story for yet another blog post I’ll threaten to write and never actually do.  In any case, for the time being I’m aiming to adhere to my training plan and see how I manage. 

Which brings us to this morning.  My first pre-work Central Park run in ages – possibly since I last lived in Manhattan in 2010.  I met Abbe at Engineer’s Gate and realized I’d allowed myself just enough time to run with her back down to 59th Street and then head across town to go home.  So, meet up fail, but mileage success.

Congratulations, Claire.  You ran a whopping 5 miles.  Time to go put on all the race medals…