Monday Wrap Up: On the Run in Fire Island

I was in Kismet, on Fire Island, this weekend for my friend Liza’s bachelorette party.  I had ample running opportunity.  Most of it entailed running from the bar back to our share house to pee when the bathroom lines were too long.  But some of it was actual, sneaker-shod running.  Running on the beach is no joke, and I’m thankful I had the foresight to do my long run on Friday morning in Manhattan before I left.  Both because 10+ miles on sand over the weekend would have probably killed me, and certainly enhanced my already significant sunburn, and because I drank so much on Saturday night I thought I was paralyzed, which would have made for challenging workouts.

Let's get a little closer, shall we?

I’m so sad because I forgot how to work my legs.  Sincere apologies to Liza for ruining the only group photo from her bachelorette party weekend.

But yes, miraculously despite the sunburn, psychosomatic paralysis, and Bud Light intake, I did a little running in Fire Island.  Our first morning there, I ran onto the beach, thinking I would find some hard-packed sand near the water’s edge and pound out a few out-and-back miles.  I made it 0.8 miles in sand that came up to my sock line before I thought I’d better look at a map and see if I could find an alternative.  Kismet is closed to cars, so there weren’t exactly roads on which to run, but there was, parallel to the beach, a sandy path that was a bit firmer than the actual shore.  I earned myself a blood blister nonetheless, but was pleased to at least have gotten my prescribed run in.

My second run of our stay (not counting those aforementioned bathroom jogs) was fueled by 60 Bud Lights and a blister pack of Advil, but when I finally got myself out the door, I at least had already identified a route that wasn't soul-crushing nor calf wrenching.  Best of all, I finished in the ocean, stopping only to remove my socks and kicks before taking the plunge.  A better hangover cure does not exist.

You'll note the red "end" point is in the ocean

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 28.  Week one of Chicago training is in the books!

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 13.  I have a firm “no shots” policy (Turn down for what you ask, Lil Jon?  Quite a few things, including being 30 years old.  Also oh my good God I’ve never watched the video at that link before, but I recommend it, as it features a man breaking pottery on his sweatpants-clad weiner). That said, I have no policy against rose or sangria, all of which are available in abundance at a bachelorette party.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Brooklyn Lager, Coronado Islander IPA, Tiger, Tecate, Bug Light, Beach Haus Pilsner, 203 Lager, and Mosaic Session IPA.

This week is a shorty before another weekend away (#soblessed #willberentinguntilIdie).  TG and I are going canoe camping, since our first foray into paddling went so well. Canoe camping is unlikely to involve any running at all, so I'll try to get another mid-week long run in before we depart.  Once we're there, I'll be switching things up from the norm and using my arm muscles a lot, both for the canoeing (and portage...) and also for slapping away mosquitos.  The more I think about it, the more this sounds like a wonderful trip for which I am definitely adequately prepared...

Tuesday Wrap Up: Fairfield Half Marathon

On Sunday, for the 7th time, I ran the Fairfield Half Marathon. It would have been the 8th time, were it not for the whole pesky broken foot thing last year. But even at 7 starts and finishes, this is the race I've run more than any other. And with good reason. I love the Fairfield Half Marathon.

Many people do NOT love the Fairfield Half Marathon. For that reason, I suspect, the course changed significantly last year. I didn't know this however, because I had a broken foot, and while I was registered for the race last year, I quickly deleted all correspondence about any course changes I received from the race director and went back to feeling sorry for myself and drinking too much.

So this year's Fairfield Half Marathon featured a new to me course, and as a result, I loved it even more than usual. Gone were the long climbs beside highway overpasses, replaced by flat stretches along the shore in Westport (I presume the race name now refers to the county and not the city). A few signature aspects remained: the big hill at mile 2, the incredible crowd support throughout, the finish line in a gravel pit (that's not the best...), the post-race beach party.  In my view, the changes that were made were all for the better, and the logistics of this race (parking, getting to the start, etc) continue to be awesome.  Special thanks to the Fairfield Police Department, and in particular the cop directing traffic between miles 4 and 5, who had to deal with a violently aggressive suburban dad who was threatening to run us all over.  That's a true story, and I'm glad the police officer kept us all safe.  I hope the dad was arrested.  Um, but don't let that deter you from running this next year...

Old Course

New Course

I won't go into all the details of a race I've run a billion times, but I finished in 1:43, a comfortable effort, and with negative splits, which leaves me feeling good about Chicago Training, which begins this week.  Best of all, my hip didn't bother me once for the duration of the race.  My stomach sure did though; I suspect consuming multiple bottles of wine single-handedly on Friday night didn't exactly leave me poised for feeling great, even two days later...

Oh hi, I swear I wasn't race walking even though it looks like it.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 20.  In deference to my sore hip, I did just 2 short, easy runs in the week leading up to the half.  This seems to have been an effective strategy.  Or laziness and dumb luck.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 8. And the gallon of rose I drank on Friday night.  Oh God, hangovers in your thirties are atrocious.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Sierra Nevada Summer, Magic Hat Elder Betty, Blue Moon Honey Wheat, and Bud Light.

Hot Dog Count: 0.  Damnit, Walsh.  It's officially summer now.  Step up your hot dog game.

So, here we are in week one of Chicago training.  I mentioned that fact to TG on Sunday night, and he said "see you in November!" which made me sad.  I'm tentatively following the same training plan I used in the spring, but I'm reserving the right to swap it out for something a little less intense; the heaviest weeks in the spring left me unbelievably drained, and overall, I felt like the volume was just a bit more than I could comfortably manage with work and travel and sleep and wanting to see my boyfriend for more than the 10 minutes before I collapsed, exhausted, in bed every night.  Fingers crossed, the months ahead should be a lot lighter on work travel, but I'm trying to remind myself that it's okay if my training plan is more fluid than hard and fast.  That's what she said?

Futile Fitness Efforts

For the third consecutive day this week, I have put on the same shorts and same sports bra in an attempt to work out. For the third consecutive day this week, I failed.

Tuesday, I planned to go to a yoga class at my gym (a too little, too late effort to engage in some stretching and strength training for my hip). I pre registered and everything! I got there 10 minutes early and peeked into the studio. There was not a single square foot of space to be had, and at least three other people ahead of me looking for a place to squeeze in. It was all very Jerry Seinfeld. "You know how to take the reservation; you just don't know how to hold the reservation." This is why people pay $34 a pop for boutique fitness classes...

Yesterday, TG and I hit snooze a few more times than we probably should have in the morning, so I threw the same shorts and sports bra into my bag with every intention of hitting the treadmill after work. Unfortunately, a "surprise" presentation to 1,000 participants added to ye olde calendar meant that I was a little bit busy and the workday lasted a little bit longer than I'd anticipated. By the time I escaped, PowerPoint in hand, I could barely manage to put Triscuts on a plate and open a tub of hummus, let alone engage in exercise. This is why people work out in the mornings.

Today, I went so far as to get up with the alarm, brush my teeth, and put on the shorts and sports bra on the morning before climbing back into bed for "5 more minutes." Alas, 5 minutes was more like 40, and I had to get to the office early on account of the aforementioned presentation for 1,000 people. This is why people lean out.

Currently, I'm sitting in the shorts and sports bra (I changed out of them for work, only to put them back on at the end of the day), stymied again because my Garmin, which I've been carrying in the same bag with the shorts and sports bra all week, is now dead, since my bag is not, apparently, a power source.

At this point, I'm blaming the clothes, and with begin my effort anew tomorrow. Just in time to rest up before the half on Sunday...

An Impossibility

This morning on my run, I witnessed the impossible.  

I went for a short run this morning to test out my hip (it's tight but functional.  That's what he said) and pick up Dorito from the boarders.  I was running down Broadway, which I never do, and was surprised by the number of other people running in the roads.  Either they are unaware of the parks and pathways of New York City, or they also have cats who were on vacation and needed to be collected in the early morning hours.  In any event, while waiting for a light, I glanced to the left at the runner on the other side of the street.  He was a middle-aged fellow, clad in run-of-the-mill running shorts and a t-shirt.  But he was barefoot.

I know this is "a thing."  I've seen barefoot people at marathons for years now.  Those around them usually point, which I'm sure gives the barefoot folks' egos the validation they clearly crave (not impressed, if you can't tell).  But what I found remarkable - nay, impossible - about this morning's encounter was that the runner in question, while not wearing anything on his feet as he ran down Broadway (approximately 1 block behind a garbage truck, no less), was in fact wearing a wedding band.

Who would do such a thing?  What self respecting man or woman would marry, and presumably cohabitate with, a man whose bare feet touched the New York City streets?  I have seen a human being take a dump on a New York City street.  I saw the bottom of this runner's feet as he proceeded downtown (I gave him a wide berth).  They were not a color otherwise found in nature.  Eventually, he would go home, and track those dirty feet into his home, which he shares with a spouse.  Not only that, unless he is straight up loaded (which I suppose could explain this eccentricity), he likely shares a lobby, elevator, staircase, and/or hallway with neighbors.  Neighbors who then have to traverse his poop-footed trail.  What is wrong with this person that he thinks this is okay?

Questions for you: have you ever touched a city street with your bare feet intentionally and while sober?  I slipped out of a flip flop on a subway platform once and was convinced for a week I had hepatitis as a result.

Have you ever taken a dump on a city street?  

Sunday Wrap Up: A Numbers Game

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 0. That was an unfortunate turn of events.

Number of Days Since My Last Run: 8. My very first day in Bend, I tweaked my left hip and it locked up. My left hip is a spot that has, for literally years, been a weird, niggly place on my body that could probably benefit from some stretching and strength, which of course I'm only coming to terms with after I've hurt it. It's been sore, but not outright painful, after I've been sitting for extended periods of time ever since. Which is a shame, because ever since, I've been on 3 flights, one 8 hour graduation ceremony, and countless long car rides.



Just doing some light reading at the UChicago graduation...

On the plus side, it wasn't sore the one time I did try a little running, up the side of a volcano, for about 400 yards. My lungs sure were though, and I'm once again reminded that I suck at running at elevation.

Are you checking out the view, or gasping for breath?

In any case, I'm looking at it as a nice hearty taper for next weekend's half marathon, the day after which I officially kick off Chicago Marathon training, and I probably don't want to start that with a broken pelvis, so really, this is all part of my plan.

In any case, I stayed plenty busy this week despite the lack of running...

Number of Other Types of Athletic Endeavors Undertaken Last Week: 3. I filled my days in Bend with biking, hiking, and a kayak trip down the Deschutes River. My sister would call it a "float" trip, but my sister also sat in the front of our two man and mostly "navigated." Verbally, and without paddling.

I actually used to claim I hated biking, but we had so much fun riding around Sunriver, the community where we rented a house. The town itself has 33 miles of bike paths, closed to cars, so I never felt unsafe. Except for the two times I veered off the path and into trees.

That rainbow is real, FYI.

Number of Volcanoes/Calderas/Exploding Mountains Visited Last Week: 3. If you haven't been to Crater Lake National Park, go at once. It is incredible.

Number of Airports Visited Last Week 7. EWR, DFW, PDX, RED (that's Redmond, Oregon, an airport approximately the size of my apartment), LAX, ORD, LGA.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 12. I love you, Oregon beers.


Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Boneyard RPM IPA, Widmer Brothers Drop Top Amber, Deschutes Twilight Summer Ale, Deschutes Mirror Pond Pale Ale, Standing Stone I Heart Oregon Ale, McKenzie Twisted Meniscus IPA (I made TG drink this with me, since we've both had meniscus tears), Deschutes Chainbreaker White IPA, 10 Barrel Oregon Brown Ale, 10 Barrel OG Wheat IPA, 10 Barrel Apocalypse IPA. And like a good parent, I can't possibly choose a favorite (though the Oregon Brown was quite good).

Hot Dog Count: 2

Number of Times I Said "I miss Dorito" Last Week: I can't find the infinity symbol on my iPad keyboard...

Tuesday Wrap Up: Fish and Friends

Last week was pretty tame compared to the usual antics on display here at Will Run For Beer: a short work-week gave way to a weekend visiting friends in "the country."  SoulCycle didn't make it onto my calendar last week, but I engaged in other types of cross training instead:

So suburban

We also had a chance to run in Lehigh Valley, PA, at the Lil Le Hi Trout Hatchery, which was awesome.

But mostly, we had a chance to eat and drink and hang out with friends, and if that's not how you're spending your summer weekends, you're doing it wrong.

Thanks for the feast, Erica!

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 26. I'm continuing to strive for a "long" run and a "hard" run each week in the lead-up to Fairfield.  Last week I ran 9 hard, which was my longest run of the week, but for good measure, I also tried to hold pace with Baker and Robert for 6 miles in Pennsylvania on Sunday morning.  If ever you need a hard run, find yourself some fast friends.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: I can remember 11, but I also have no recollection of what I did on Wednesday or Thursday nights last week.  Don't get old, people.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week:  Brooklyn Summer Ale, Beck's, Heineken, Oberon, Coors Light (blame Robert), and Appalachian Brewing Company's Purist Pale Ale and Mountain Lager.

Hot Dog Count: Zero.  FOR SHAME.

Coming up, you'll be shocked (no, you won't) to hear that I'm traveling again.  This time, it's a full week in Bend, Oregon for a real live vacation, which I might be able to afford to take on the reg were I not instead committed to a lifestyle of taking 48 hour trips every single week of my life.  We leave Saturday morning and get to Portland Saturday night, where I'll be reunited with my nephew and bbf (best baby friend).  Sunday, we'll drive to Bend (too late to make the Dirty Half, regrettably) and spend a week exploring the trails, the river, and the local brews.  

If you have any recommendations for outdoor fun in Bend, please say the word!