Will Run For Beer

Brew Review: Southern Tier Old Man Winter Ale

2012-02-13T18:13:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned in the weekly wrap up, Neal made good on Saturday afternoon on a bet we made when the Giants played Green Bay to get into the NFC Championship. As I drank a great many beers that day back in January, I don't even remember the precise terms of the bet; something about 12 beers to the winner, with an additional beer for every point over the spread... Or something. Whatever it was, Neal ended up owing me 17 beers. He paid out 19, because I guess he wasn't really sure what the terms were either. In any case, he delivered these beers to me on Saturday, and now is 50% paid up; I'll find a time and place for him to wear my newly acquired Giants hard hat soon (and that place will be somewhere public).

While I was in no shape to do anything but wallow in bed in discomfort Saturday evening, digesting hot dogs, by Sunday night, after a cold run and ample digestion time, I was ready to take a peak at my winnings. Let me say, if you're the betting type, make a bet with Neal. The stakes are high, but he does not take the payout lightly. A lesser man would have forked over a case of Bud Lights (the lowest man of all would have made a bet with Brad over a football game 2 years ago and still not have paid up...), but Neal curated an impressive selection of international beers for my tasting pleasure. The first one I pulled out was possibly not labeled in English, but what I could read indicated it was 11.9% ABV. That's quite a Sunday evening beer. I decided maybe I should take a more modest approach, and pulled a few more bottles until I selected my beer of choice for the night: Southern Tier's Old Man Winter Ale from Lakewood, NY.

Again, Sunday was pretty frigid ("bitterly cold," according to the weather folk, who lost the ability to appreciate cold weather sometime over the course of several 50 degree days in January and February), and after I came home from a few hours, I spent much of the afternoon reading under the covers. A winter ale was just what I had in mind to warm me up.

I watched a lot of real estate television last night, and this is what you call "staging." Stuff I took off my night stand to make me appear minimalist included my alarm clock, a box of tissues, 2 remotes, a dirty plate, about a dozen Hersey Kiss wrappers, those pesky little plastic t-shaped tags that come on clothing, and miscellaneous analgesics, vitamins, and other pills. The Garmin and obscured photo of IMan running Boston are legit.

Old Man poured a rich copper and has a malty, grassy aroma. The hops here are very piney, with I think almost a smoky, earthy finish. Some people use "peat" as an adjective to describe beer. I have no idea what peat tastes like. That's a component of gardening, right? Do people eat that to be able to use it comparatively? If so, they're more dedicated beer nerds than I. But if peat tastes vaguely like a distant campfire in the woods, this is peaty.

Speaking of campfires in the woods, I don't go to those in the winter, and I don't know that this speaks to me as a winter ale. I actually don't go to campfires in the woods most seasons. That's really a once-per-year in the summer thing for me. Except for the time I busted my knee, which was indeed at a winter campfire in the woods. We were also drinking Utica Club that night, so maybe things would have been different with some Old Man Winter. Anyway, I think winter ales are typically maltier, and while this label indicates they've used 2 types of malts (in addition to 3 varieties of hops) in brewing, I don't get much malt to this, and least not at first pour. Though as the beer sits and warms up a bit, the hops are some what turned out and the malt comes out. Still, if its not the kind of beer that's going to get you through hibernation, maybe it's something to prep you for it, like a fall ale? That's not a thing, though, so I guess it's just a pinier brown ale. Whatever, I dig it. And the 7.7% ABV makes an ideal Sunday night bedtime elixir.

Good thing I cracked it at 6:45pm. Being old is cool...

Sunday Wrap Up: Hot Dog Challenge Race Report

2012-02-12T12:55:00.001-05:00

In my attempt to maintain once-a-week cross training, I recently procured Jillian Michael's Yoga Meltdown DVD (chanturanga pushups aren't physically possible, FYI). In it, Jillian urges us to "get comfortable with being uncomfortable." She probably wasn't referring to eating hot dogs in mass quantities (that would be a weird yoga DVD), but I tried to keep her words in mind yesterday as I attempted to take down 10 hot dogs in 2.5 miles during the New York Rogue Runners' Hot Dog Challenge. Alas, it wasn't enough. Yesterday, I took my first DNF. Did not finish.

I woke up on Saturday morning primed for the competition. While normally I aim to avoid waking up with a vague hangover on race morning, yesterday's headache and unsettled stomach were intentional (if that isn't a quote from someone with a problem, I don't know what is...). The hungover need and ability to eat mass quantities of bad-for-me foods was exactly what I was hoping for.

But in case that weren't enough, I tried to really maximize my running hunger (runger) by knocking out my weekly long run immediately before the challenge began. I layered up and headed to Central Park, shit-talking my competition via Twitter on the way. My personal favorites were " Know how I grew my legs so long? BY EATING HOT DOGS!" and "Know why my hair is this color? I MIX KETCHUP AND MUSTARD!"

A wet snow was falling as I made my way through my first loop of the park, but my fuzzy wool mittens kept me warm and dry, my windbreaker allowed me to work up a good sweat, and my tights kept my legs feeling good. I felt like Rocky preparing for his prize fight as the miles ticked off and eventually the snow,let up. I didn't take any Gu, so as to really prime my system for solid food intake. 14 miles in 1:49.

My long run was timed just right; with a slated noon kick off for the challenge, I had about half an hour to get change for a couple twenties (singles are key for hot dog purchases) and let the runger really germinate. Unfortunately, the first glitch was that, perhaps because of the snow, there was nary a hot dog truck to be found to get change! I tried all the usual spots: outside the Boathouse, atop Cat Hill, even out on Fifth Avenue. But no matter where I roamed (all the while getting colder and colder, thanks to sweating up a storm during my long run), I could find no place to make change. In fact, the first cart on the course map wasn't there! Fast on his feet and in his brain, Baker made a few quick course revisions to maintain the robust number of hot dogs to be eaten and reviewed the rules for the competitors: eat a dog at every cart on the course; dogs and buns must be fully finished before competitors can move on to the next cart; no puking; diarrhea is acceptable (I asked). The course map indicated 11 carts; I felt confident i could take down 8, and I was committed to strong-arming the last 3 down. The purse was up to $225; that's a lot of hot dogs!

With the newly establish first cart at the 72nd Street transverse, all competitors bought their dogs, and on the count of 3, we ate.

Thanks for capturing this moment, Neal. I look terrified.

I got ketchup and mustard on dog one, which was also a mistake. A liberal mustard application made my first dog delicious, but the vinegar tang from the condiments made it tougher to pound. And those fuzzy mittens that kept me warm on my long run weren't ideal for fast-paced eating. I was among the last competitors to finish and head to cart two. Still, I felt confident; I had anticipated that I wouldn't eat fast, but that my skill would be maintaining a good pace on a full stomach. And I had no trouble hustling to my second dog, located just outside the park. In a cruel twist of fate, Cart 2 had calorie counts displayed. One hot dog, 240 calories.

Thanks to Elyssa for the action photography above. I skipped the mustard on dog 2 and went with straight ketchup. Unfortunately, bun 2 was pretty stale and tough to devour. Tougher still, Cart 3 was just across the street. Back to back dogs was not playing to my skill set; I had no chance to run, and instead could only swallow, shuffle across the street, and purchase dog 3. The prospect was too daunting for Gillian, and she tapped out.

I should point out that I love hot dogs. But by Cart 3, I was able to notice the subtleties in dog flavor at each cart. And Cart 3 was not good. And thinking about how this dog didn't taste like the other dogs reminded me that hot dogs are actually pretty disgusting in concept. And that didn't really help me force me down my gullet. I wasn't full or nauseous, but tasting dog 3 made me gag. Still, I downed it and moved on, following the course map with Bethany.

Like Cart 1, Cart 4 wasn't set up when we arrived, so Course Marshall AbbeLew waved us on. I said a silent prayer, still unable to get the taste of dog 3 out of my mouth or mind. We continued running south and west, running through what is known (to the hot dog competitors, based on the course map) as Baker's Pass, and arrived at the next cart at 53rd and Fifth.

This 4th dog cost $3, a whole dollar more than the other dogs. I gave the vendor a dirty look and then gave my expensive dog a dirty look. I can do this. Can I do this? I don't want to do this. The running was still going well for me, but I was really dragging on the eating by now. How is this only my fourth dog?! We got an update on the leaders: Matt6 was still going strong, and Neal was starting to slip. Who could blame him? Steph was undecided as to whether should she be proud or horrified that her boyfriend excelled at hot dog eating. Bethany and I took down dog 4 together.

The next two carts were again across the street from each other, in an area labeled on the map as Dead Man's Corner. The mental struggle of knowing we had to take down back to back dogs again was almost more difficult than the act of doing it. This was where boys would become men. I bellied up to the cart and purchased my fifth hot dog of the day. I was not happy about it.

Dog 5 was the kind of hot dog people cite when they talk about why they hate dirty water dogs. It wasn't quite the right color - more gray than pink - and about halfway through, I encountered a mysterious gristly bit. I extricated it with my hand and dropped it on the sidewalk. A pigeon walked by and ate it. I tried not to think about it. I kept chewing and chewing, but I couldn't get that mystery hot dog component out of my mind. I gagged. I swallowed. I kept eating. With one swallow standing between me and dog number 6 a block away, I turned my head and violently ejected hot dog into the planter beside me. I was done.

Course Marshall Steph told me she was proud of my efforts. I took a swig of water and immediately doubled over, spewing mushy bun bits onto the sidewalk and horrifying tourists. Meanwhile, Bethany was still going strong. Steph and I followed her to the next cart as she tackled her 6th dog.

The rest of the challenge was a battle of the mind; Bethany's mind battled with the thought of 4 more hot dogs, and my mind battled with the prospect of not vomiting while watching Bethany eat 4 more hot dogs. As we pressed on, we continued on the heels of Dennis, who opened the day with 2 hot dogs at the first cart. He was looking tired, but strong. Bethany was struggling to get the dogs down, but between carts, was doing her best to keep up a jog. 3 dogs to go. 2 dogs to go. Though I'd given up, I did come close to being revisited by my previously consumed hot dogs when Bethany gave her 8th dog a good squeeze to demonstrate how juicy it was. We made our way along 46th Street, inching closer to the finish line. Was it possible? Might the last cart on the map not be there? Might Bethany be done already?! Alas, no. Hidden behind a building's column, the tenth and final dog. Using deep breathing techniques, Bethany finished and Steph and I let out a cheer! Just a three block jog to the finish.

The competitors set up a power arch outside Rudy's, and Bethany brought it on home through the screaming crowd. I sheepishly side-stepped the finish line. DNFing sucks.

But not so much that I wish I had eaten five more hot dogs yesterday. In fact, after 5 dogs, I had to roll the waistband of my running tights down to accommodate my nitrate bloat. And my Pork Slap Ale, which I drank in honor of the pigs/cows/other random gristly animals who gave their lives so we could compete. Also, Rudy's serves free hot dogs with your beer. No thank you.

In the end, Gillian and I were the only two competitors who didn't finish. I cannot believe you disgusting savages all ate 10 hot dogs yesterday.

The eventual winner is not pictured, likely because he left to spend his $225 winnings. Apparently it came down to the wire, and Matt6 was a close second. Maybe next time, buddy. At least Steph doesn't have to pretend to be proud. And he did get that fancy cat crown.

In summation, never participate in a hot dog eating contest ever, as it was disgusting. Or if you do, at least do it with people you like, and who won't judge you for regurgitating hot dogs on Fifth Avenue.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 46. Took an extra running day this week. Those 1,200 of hot dogs aren't going to burn themselves.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 13. But, ever the honest football fan, Neal made good on a bet we made back when the Giants walloped the Packers, and hand-delivered 19 unique and delicious beers to me after the challenge yesterday. I suspect I'll check out a few from the mix later today.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Barrier Beech Street Wheat, Moretti, Bud Light, Blue Moon, Pork Slap, and Long Trail IPA.

Clairey Chestnut

2012-02-10T07:18:00.001-05:00

This weekend, while all you suckers are busy doing regular old long runs as part of your Spring Marathon training, I'll be doing a long run as well. 16 miles... immediately before participating in an eating challenge. I figure the post-long run hunger will leave me ideally prepared to feed... approximately dozen hot dogs...while running an additional 3 miles.

I was truly shocked to learn that this is the only photo on my computer specifically of a hot dog. This is a pretzel-wrapped hot dog from a rest stop on the Mass Pike. I took its picture for my friend Caroline. Then I ate it and it was awesome.

Full challenge rules can be found here: New York Rogue Runners' Hot Dog Challenge. Rumor has it (and I may have started this rumor) that I am considered to be among the chief contenders for the title. I have yet to determine if being known for my ability to binge eat hot dogs while running is a point of pride or shame.

If you have nothing better to do than watch me give myself heart burn and possibly Trichinosis, I invite you to join the fun tomorrow at Noon in Central Park.

Eureka!

2012-02-07T15:46:00.001-05:00

Having made 27 previous attempts to perfect the formula, I think today I managed to create the ideal birthday scenario.

Step 1: Don't go to work.

Step 2: Go running outside in the sunshine. In a Giants jersey.

Step 3: Go to the Giants' ticker tape parade. Not mind that you can't even see the parade route because the Giants are the Super Bowl champions.

I could see a lot of Giants fans, and a lot of Nassau Street.

Step 4: Be back from the parade in time to watch the actual ceremony, emceed by your favorite Giant of all time, Michael Strahan #92, from the warmth of your bed.

Step 5: Go to Bierkraft for lunch.

Step 6: Order a pint (Barrier Beech Wheat Street) and a sandwich (turkey, cheddar, arugula, and spicy grainy mustard on a baguette).

Step 7: Enjoy said pint and sandwich while Bierkraft plays the "Born in the USA" album in its entirety

If today is any indication, 28 is going to be a very good year.

My Birthday Suit

2012-02-07T14:03:00.000-05:00

Just your average Tuesday morning running-and-ticker-tape-parade-attending combination outfit...

Sunday Wrap Up: THE GIANTS ARE IN THE SUPER BOWL!!!!!

2012-02-05T16:54:00.001-05:00

Oh, did you know that already? My bad.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 38. My pre- Super Bowl enthusiasm carried me through 10+ miles today at an average pace of 7:40/mile. Must have been the New York Giants cookie I ate for breakfast.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: I haven't even arrived at my Super Bowl party destination (currently on MetroNorth, toting $130 in deep fried foods), and I've already had 13 beers this week. I blame AbbeLew.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Sam Adams Alpine Spring, Lagunitas IPA, Dos Equis, and a great many Bud Lights. IMan and I went to a Bridgeport Sound Tigers minor league hockey game last night. Bud Lights taste better when the cost $9 a piece and are paired with hot dogs and cheese fries. And you're sitting in an Executive Box.

I've taken the day off from work on Tuesday, my 28th birthday. I WILL be going to a ticker tape parade on that morning. And it WILL be here in New York. Go Big Blue!

Return of the Month of Claire!

2012-02-01T22:13:00.000-05:00

People really shit on February. "Wahhh, it's cold in February!"

It was 61 degrees in New York today and I ran in shorts.

"But I hate Valentine's Day! It's such a consumer-driven, fake holiday!"

What are you, a Communist? Who hates snacks?

"It's only 28 days, what kind of month is that?!"

First of all, this year it's 29 days, which means that for the first time since 2008, IMan gets to have a birthday. Why don't you stop being so selfish and think about other people's feeling for once. God.

Personally, I love February. It's my birthday month! It's the month in which the Giants are going to become SUPER BOWL CHAMPIONS! Groundhog Day is a hilarious movie!

And it's the month in which Spring Marathon training really starts ramping up. February gets me fired up. It's the Month of Claire!

This February 1st being a Wednesday, I was tasked with a hill workout. 8 miles on "the hilliest route you can find." Normally, I think a loop of Central Park fits this description. But today being the first day of the Month of Claire, I wanted to take it up a notch. Instead of entering the Park at West 72nd Street and running a loop of Central Park, I entered at West 72nd Street, ran clockwise over the west side hills, tackled the Harlem hills, and got to the top of the hill by the hockey rink at East 102nd Street. Then I turned around and did it all again. 9 hilly miles in 1:09. Suck on that, Newton.

Sunday Wrap Up: Turns Out, I'm Not Psychic

2012-01-29T18:13:00.001-05:00

Great news: I did not eat any children yesterday! I did eat a turkey sandwich, nap for 2 hours, then drink in Park Slope, Hell's Kitchen, and Williamsburg, celebrating 2 birthdays in 2 boroughs and tucking myself into bed just shy of 2:00am. That's a lot of 2s! Also in the 2 family? The number of minutes I was off of my predicted finish in today's prediction run.

Despite my late night, I was up at 6:55am and on my way to Central Park by 7:30 for the next in a series of races put on by the new and growing league, the New York Rogue Runners. . The stakes were high for today's race; thanks to Cardiac Crusher Brewery, the prize was homebrewed citron hefeweizen. Now normally I couldn't compete with speediest members of the Runner's Army, but today's race had unusual terms. Rather than fastest finish time, the winner of Cardiac Crusher's Prediction Run was s/he who came closest to finishing in the amount of time s/he predicted for the 4 mile course.

Having run a pretty fast 15 miles yesterday, and running a few warm up miles that felt pretty creaky (and also having stayed out drinking with hipsters until 2:00am...), my strategy was to predict a fairly easy 33:20, or 8:20/mile. The trick, of course, is that you can't wear your Garmin or another timing device in the prediction run, so if you are not very good at pacing (and also a little tired and hungover), predicting your finish time becomes a bit of a challenge. But I was pretty confident that predicting a finish time in line with an easy pace run would mean I'd be drinking citron hefewiezen tonight.

After reviewing the course and collecting our predictions, Joe started his timer and we were off. The field was 6 deep, and top 3 took home some beer, so my confidence was further buoyed. Unfortunately, that enthusiasm led me to start out at a pace I knew was too fast. It's hard to toe a line next to other runs, have someone shout "go!," and not take off at an aggressive pace. After coming across 72nd and climbing Cat Hill, I thought I had tempered my pace a bit. I continued up to ~~110th~~ 102nd* and tried to tell myself not to speed up, but just maintain my pace.

When we hit the west side hills, I was sure I was slowing down, and could practically taste the citron hefe with about a mile to go. I kept saying "don't speed up, don't speed up" and even considered a 5 second pause just before the finish line to counteract any residual speediness, but ultimately decided I'd feel like a total asshole if I did that and then turned out to be slower than my prediction. I turned the corner at 72nd St and had to say out loud "don't sprint to the finish!" I ran through Abbe and Baker's power arch and finished in 31:16. Two minutes and 4 seconds off. I was the second finisher of the day, and stood in second place. Until Robin, Amy, and Elyssa finished and knocked me back to 5th (thankfully Maura is even less psychic than I). If only I hadn't broken my Magic 8 Ball on the subway this morning!

Loser. And thanks, Joe, for the pic.

Congrats to Robin, Baker, and Amy for their wins. Thanks for nothing with that whole not sharing with Claire thing.

Winner!

I'd love to use this opportunity to provide you with a brew review of Cardiac Crusher's Citron Hefeweizen, but regrettably there were no awards for participants (though I do have a lovely, handmade bib to show for my efforts). That said, I have had the chance to sample other of the breweries fine intoxicants, and can speak highly of them, so if you ever have the chance, I recommend you sample them too. If that means you need to get good at pacing, though, I apps toy can't help you there.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 40. That required 2 (awesome) naps this weekend.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 7, but I'm actually about to crack another, because there's no real football on TV tonight, which makes me sad.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Stella, Long Trail Pale Ale, and Leffe Brown. We went to Berry Park in Williamsburg last night which had quite an impressive beer selection. Unfortunately it also had an insane wait to get a beer, and a creepy drunk lingering at the bar who was burning holes in my ass with his leering, so by the time I finally got to order, I grabbed two Leffes and hightailed it back to the table. But it might be worth another visit to try what else is on tap.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for that beer I mentioned, and to spend the next week functioning with a high level of anxiety on account of the Super Bowl.

*You'd think I'd know the course better, given that I demanded Joe review it at least three times before we started. Can you tell I don't do many NYRR races? Though it would have been pretty sweet if I ran even further than 4 miles and still ran a 31 and change. Thanks for the correction, T!

The Monster of Park Slope

2012-01-28T13:20:00.001-05:00

I had one of those "whoa, I seriously love running" kind of runs today. 15 miles in 2:01. I went everywhere: a loop of Prospect Park, down Flatbush to Atlantic, across Court, over the Brooklyn Bridge, through Chinatown, down to Battery Park, and up the West Side. Everyone was so happy to be outside in the sunshine and 40 degree weather in January, running or biking or celebrating Chinese New Year, that I couldn't help but be in a good mood.

(That's a dragon in Chinatown, for the holiday. And do you like my new, blue Kinvaras?)

I felt strong and fast and happy as I grabbed a Gatorade and hopped on the train home.

But then, something awful happened.

I should have known better, but in my post-long run euphoria, I got back to Brooklyn, put on dry clothes, and started picking up my room. I made my bed, I updated DailyMile, got on Twitter, and took a look at the New York Times. Also, obviously I drew pictures of my run on my iPad.

What I did not do was give the post-long run hungers the respect and attention they deserve. And now, I am ravenous.

I will eat any Park Slope child (and his/her Razor scooter) who gets between me and La Bagel Delight right now. You've been warned.

Brew Review: Shipyard Pumpkinhead

2012-01-23T20:33:00.001-05:00

Remember when, approximately two and a half months ago, I was all excited to conduct a Halloween-themed brew review? And then I got a cold on Halloween weekend and was a little bitch and couldn't muster the energy to even put on my lobster costume, let alone drink beers? And then it was time for me to run a 60k (because I am an ultramarathoner) and then it was Thanksgiving, and then it was Christmas, and then I went to St. John and drank my weight in Corona and Carib and now here we are today, never having had those fall seasonals?

Well tonight I decided to do something about that. In part, this was because it was raining and I didn't want to go outside to buy new and different beers and decided to make due with what was already in my fridge, and in part this was inspired by my reading of "Brewed Awakening" by Joshua M. Bernstein, which has lit a fire under my brew reviewing butt. (That's a post for another day). So while I whipped up some dinner, I cracked open the solitary Shipyard Pumpkinhead that's been in my fridge since October.

As I poured this into a pint glass, I was hit with a pumpkin pie spice aroma. Not like, "hmm, this is subtle and smells vaguely like something that reminds me of pumpkin pie," but "this is made with McCormack's brand, pre packaged pumpkin pie spice from the grocery store." It was weird to encounter a smell so specific and yet so not a typical beer smell.

My first sip was actually pleasantly surprising; this beer tasted like cinnamon, and had potential for an enjoyable, warm-you-up-on-a-January-night beer. Eagerly anticipating sip number two, I left my beer to hang out for a few minutes and finished up my dinner.

When I came back to my beer and took anther sip, I was aghast; this tastes like dirty vegetables covered in cinnamon! Again, it was weird to taste something so specific that was also so atypical for beer, but this tastes like dirty vegetables covered in cinnamon! Who drinks this?! It's awful!

I'm reluctant to shit on Shipyard because I support Maine businesses, and it's my own fault for picking this beer, because I already knew I didn't like pumpkin beers. But seriously, who does like this stuff? I know you're out there (Brad). What is the draw? Do you like other pumpkin things? Coffee, cheesecake, muffins, and stuff? I hate all those things too, so again, I wasn't going into this tasting with the most open mind, but I'm really astounded that so many people seem to love this and other pumpkin beers. I poured this beer out.

In summation, I know there are people out there who like this beer and other pumpkin things. I am not one of them, even when those pumpkin things are produced by a brewer I usually like. If you do, you're a freak who drinks dirty vegetables. Good luck with that.

Sunday Wrap Up: Game Day

2012-01-22T17:18:00.001-05:00

Having learned the hard way to not swear I'm going to run after cheering the Giants to victory with Abbe and Baker (and by "hard way," I mean "very acutely intoxicated way"), I slogged through 10 slushy miles around Prospect Park this afternoon so I could devote my undivided attention to the game this evening at Abbe's place.

Things I am bringing to watch the game:
- one bottle of red wine
- one case of beer (Saranac's Adirondack Trail Mix, which I think is a crowd pleaser even if not all in your crowd are beer drinkers)
- Giants jersey
- Giants sweatshirt
- Giants hat
- personalized crystal Giants beer stein (wrapped for protection in a Giants t-shirt)
- compression socks
- cat treats

Just your usual assortment of game day necessities.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 31. I ran 10 miles in 1:23 on the treadmill yesterday while it snowed outside and considered quitting 4 times per mile. I ran 10 miles through day-old slush in Prospect Park today in 1:20 and thought about running further (had to quit to give myself time to pick up cat treats). It makes me mad that my body can't be satisfied with warm air and towels and Kardashians and instead insists on actually experiencing winter running in all it's wet and cold and not-in-front-of-the-TV-watching-E! glory.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: Just 4 so far, but I've got these 12 beers here, and it seems I accidentally got on a train to Crown Heights and not Manhattan, so there are no promises that all 12 will still be full by the time I get to Abbe's. In 9 hours. Jesus, where is Crown Heights?

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Brooklyn Lager, Stella, Guinness.

If you love me, or even just find me mildly entertaining, please oh please cheer for the Giants today. I don't know that I've ever wanted anything more than this win. Except maybe a win in 2 weeks in Indy. And also to find my way out of Crown Heights in time for kick-off.

Update: It's Still Winter

2012-01-19T07:20:00.001-05:00

Legs stayed so cold this morning that my perceived level of exertion for hill repeats was the same as that for my warm up miles. In my mind, that's actually a good thing: "hey, these hill repeats are as easy as warming up!" But that's because my mind has never studied exercise science. In reality, it's probably a good way to expedite muscle tears. And/or a lifelong fear of warming up: "hey, these warm up miles are just as hard as hill repeats!"

Stay warm out there.

Sunday Wrap Up: How to Wrap Up When it's REALLY Cold

2012-01-15T12:59:00.002-05:00

If you're a runner living anywhere north of, say, the Washington, DC area, chances are you know how to dress for runs in 30 and 40 degree weather. But unless you're living in Maine, it can be hard to figure out what to wear when it's really cold. Sub-20 degrees cold. Wind chill factor in the single digits cold. Sure, you could say "that's easy; I wear shorts and a tank top and get on the treadmill in the climate controlled gym, fool!" And sometimes I do say that. But sometimes I just want to breath actual air. Even if that air immediately freezes all my nose hairs.

Lucky for you people, I was treated to just those conditions when I woke up this morning. 15 degrees. Windchill factor at a nice round zero. While I was glad I knocked out my long run for the week yesterday, I still had 5 miles on the schedule today, and a hankering to be in the sunshine for awhile, before I locked myself in a dark bar for 4 hours to watch football later today. So, I knocked back a few cups of coffee and bundled up.

(I'm standing in front of the refrigerator for added coldness).

Now, that looks totally ridiculous. I know this. And I am the proud owner of lots of top of the line wicking fabrics and technical tees and all sorts of expensive and fashionable stuff designed for winter running and not looking like a homeless person. I wear that stuff when it's 30 degrees, and I look good doing it. But when it's really cold, I end up combining the fancy stuff with the good old fashioned gear that got me through ski school twenty years ago. I look horrifying, but everyone else outside is so cold they have their heads down and don't even notice.

So what is all that crap?

Working my way up from the bottom:

Ski socks: I wear ski socks while running when it's bitterly cold. Not only is the fabric around the foot thicker, but the knee-length socks keep more of my lower legs warm as well. I don't care what Nike says; wool was the original technical fabric. A word to the wise, though: because ski socks are so thick, you've gotta tie your sneaks loosely if you want to be able to retain circulation to your lower extremities.

Long underwear: I owe a great many pairs of running tights. The best kinds for regular winter running are those that are fleecey on the inside and stretchy Lycra on the outside. Under Armor makes good ones. But when it's bitterly cold, I find that the shiny Lycra on the outside stays very cold on the surface, and that surface is close to your skin. While these kinds of tights keep your muscles warm, they leave your skin frigid. Plain old cotton long underwear in a heavy weave keeps your body heat in and doesn't get cold on the surface. Plus, when it's this cold out, you're not sweating buckets, so you don't have to worry about getting soaked (my thighs generally don't sweat buckets anyway, but if that's a concern for you... ew).

Shorts: Normally, I find it patently ridiculous that anyone would wear shorts over tights. But. Cotton long underwear does let in a bit of a breeze in the areas where it isn't as tight to your body, and one of those areas is the Junk. To prevent genital wind burn, and to keep the big muscle groups of my legs (quads and ass) extra protected from the cold, I throw on a pair of shorts over the long underroos.

Under Armor Cold Gear: You can't see it in the picture above, but I'm wearing a long sleeved Cold Gear top. It's amazing how warm this top keeps your muscles. While wrestling into a compression shirt is kind of annoying, it's worth the effort. However, because this top has that same Lycra surface on the outside that makes your skin cold, I top it with...

Fleece Jacket: I have no idea who makes this jacket or to whom it belongs. I just found it in a closet at my parents house. It's just a plain old zip front fleece. Gets the job done.

Gaiter: The Under Armor top has a mock turtleneck, which doesn't offer much coverage, and the fleece jacket has a cold metal zipper. A gaiter keeps the lower half of your face warm and prevents wind burn, which is ugly.

Gloves AND mittens: This renders your hands completely useless, but who needs hands when you're running?

Wool hat: I wear a baseball hat for everyday runs because my hair is too slippery to be restrained otherwise (note to self: be less greasey). A wool hat with ear covering is a must.

Sunnies: The sun is strong even when it's freezing out. Protect your peepers, kids!

Of course, putting on that many layers means you have to start running as soon as you're dressed, otherwise you risk the ski school meltdown of being too hot and uncomfortable indoors. It's a fine, fine line.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 40. Do as I say, not as I do. I only ran 16 miles last week. Using the 10% rule, I should have increased my mileage to just about 18 this week. That'd get me ready for Boston in, oh, 2014.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: TBD. I'm at about 8 right now, but I'm headed back to the City today to watch the Giants game. If it's anything like last weekend, I will be increasing this figure by drastically more than 10% as well.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Lake Effects APA, Sam Adams, Stella.

Neal and I have 12 beers riding on this game, and since the Giants are most assuredly going to win, I'd welcome suggestions as to what beers I should demand from him. Take to the comments!

Brew Review: Lake Effects APA

2012-01-14T18:38:00.004-05:00

Before we get to the good stuff, some administrative details to cover:

1) ZOMG Olympic Marathon Trials!! Meb has been my favorite since way back, on account of my own African roots, and by that I mean the one time I studied abroad for 6 months in a country thousands of miles away from Eritrea but on the continent of Africa. Regardless of the veracity of my ancestral claims, I am really psyched he won, especially after basically every sponsor turned their back on him this season and he ended up running in Sketchers. Seriously. That's his shoe sponsor. Dude basically ran a PR in toning sneakers and won the Olympic trials. What did you do today?

2) Remember how in 2011 I became an ultramarathoner? Here is a picture, in case you have forgotten:

Well I started thinking that now it's 2012, which means I ran an ultramarathon last year. That's not very impressive. It's like, "yeah I weighed 120. In 10th grade." There's a statute of limitations on these things. So, I decided I needed a 2012 ultra. Behold, the NJ Ultra Festival! This day of fun falls on March 24, 2012, which is the same weekend I'm scheduled to do my last long run before Boston - 22 miles. And what's the difference, really, between 22 miles and 50k? (Really, it's 9 miles). So I signed on up, and I'll be competing in my first trail ultra (slash trail anything...) in about 70 days. Be prepared to fawn over me all over again.

Okay, on to the task at hand: a brew review!

Pearl Street Grill & Brewery is in Buffalo, New York. I've not been to the Brewery, and probably haven't been to Buffalo since I was about 14 and still thought beer tasted bad and drank it only in a mad frenzy under the cloak of darkness before my 11:00pm curfew. But now that I'm a sophisticated adult human with a highly refined palate (related: I'm making Pigs 'N Blankets for dinner), I can be appreciate the good stuff. And lucky for me, my Uncle John lives in Buffalo and brought me the good stuff last time he came to visit. And this is indeed good.

The aroma is straight hops, but the taste is slightly more nuanced. It's hoppy to be sure, but also warm and malty - the perfect beer to warm me up after 12+ cold and windy miles this afternoon. The progression of flavors is actually the opposite of what I'm used to and was expecting; rather than going from hoppy to a smooth finish, the Lake Effects APA starts with an almost caramel smoothness, and then finishes with a bit of bite from the hops. I don't taste any citrusy notes, but that could be due in equal measure to my inability to appreciate such subtleties and the fact that this growler is 6 weeks old (relax; it's only been open for... 3 weeks...). It may have poured with some sediment, or this dishwasher might not be very effective at cleaning pint glasses. Even though it's considered a Pale Ale, this beer definitely trends toward IPA in terms of the level of hoppiness. And it goes very well with Pigs 'N Blankets, which is the official barometer for any easy-drinking beer.

In summation: if you live in the Buffalo area, it's worth your while to drop into Pearl Street Grill & Brewery and snap up some of this. And while you're there, grab me another growler too, since I polished this one off washing down those dogs.

More on Morning Runs

2012-01-12T17:15:00.001-05:00

Despite my adamant assertions to the contrary earlier this week, there are some perks to being an evening runner. Yesterday, for example, I managed to drag myself around Prospect Park after work for the following workout:

3x1 miles at tempo (7:20)
4x half mile hill repeats
1x1 mile at tempo
1x1 mile cool down

3 tempo miles on their own are a challenge for me, and hill repeats in Prospect Park are among those workouts that give me sweaty palms thinking about them because they’re so difficult and I hate them so much. To combine those two workouts seemed impossible. To run another tempo mile after all of that should have been impossible. But after work yesterday, it all came together for me and I got that "I'm a better athlete than you!" feeling, even though it was nighttime.

The New York Times ran an article about all this a few years back, summarizing that not only are your muscles more pliable after a full day of doing whatever it is you do (what I do is sit at a desk all day, but I suppose my hourly trips to refill my water/pee/go to Starbucks/check the mail constitute more activity than sleeping), but your body is also able to generate and sustain a higher heart rate for longer during the evening hours. They go so far as to say that athletes looking for a PR should consider late day event starts. So I’m not the only person who experiences a spike in performance in the evening!

And yet. The trick for me is the actually going running after work. Whereas I feel morally superior to other athletes by running in the morning, I feel morally superior to the girls featured on Teen Mom 2 by watching it in the evenings. (And also by not getting knocked up at 16. Or 27. Fingers crossed!). I had to remind myself all afternoon that I was running after work yesterday, and spent the train ride home dreading it. By the time I reached my apartment, I was telling myself “forget the hill workout; just run for 20 minutes and then come home and watch mindless television.” By 7:30pm, there was about a 10% chance I was actually going to tackle my workout. Last night, I may have beaten the odds, but generally speaking, Teen Mom wins.

So what’s a runner to do? The honest answer is: run whenever you’ll actually do it. Running takes a certain amount of sacrifice, but unless you’re going to the Olympic trials to win it this weekend, it’s okay to be realistic about what you’re willing to give up, and more importantly, what you’re not. If you need your beauty sleep in the morning, you don’t have to sign up for a 5:30am spin class. If you orchestrate your company happy hour, then don’t join a running group that meets at 6:00pm. Find what works for you. And then find a way to be smug and superior about it.

And if you’re 16 and Pregnant, maybe now isn’t the best time for you to take on marathon training.

But I AM a Morning Runner!

2012-01-10T10:53:00.001-05:00

I've always considered myself a morning runner; if I don't wake up and run before work, the odds are good that after work, I'll either be lacking in motivation or abundant in invitations to do things more fun than running. But according to the nifty Dailymile year-end report, 60% of my workouts last year were in the post meridiem hours!

Perhaps this is because sometimes I am too hungover/still drunk to run in the mornings on Saturdays and Sundays. And Thursdays. But even when you take into consideration all those instances (and there are many), I still identify as a morning runner.

In all honesty, part of me is annoyed over this revelation; morning runners to me seem more committed to their craft. "Look at me! I wake up at 5:30am! This is because I am willing to make sacrifices for my sport and am therefore a superior athlete!" In fact, I deliberately send emails at 5:30am to demonstrate that "hey, I am awake right now because I am that much better than you at running!" (Seriously; I did that this morning). I even ruined Christmas last month because I insisted on running in the morning, before we opened presents.

Dailymile, you have shaken me to my very core (which shakes quite a bit, because while I do a lot of running, apparently at all hours of the day, I don't do any core work, morning, noon, or night). If I could be so wrong about when I think I am actually doing my running, what else am I wrong about? Am I not tall and skinny and pretty? Am I not hilarious and a talented writer? Am I not modest?

But, this discovery also opens the door to some new possibilities. If running is actually an evening sport, does that mean beer is really a breakfast food?!

(Mom: I'm kidding. But thanks for that vote of confidence you subtly gave me when you asked if I was drinking alone during the Giants game. I'll see you at my intervention).

Monday Wrap Up: Reset Button

2012-01-09T07:49:00.001-05:00

Thought I hit the ole reset on training Saturday, when I knocked out 11 miles in Prospect Park. My triumphant return! But then the Giants played the early game yesterday, so my morning was spent preparing and my afternoon (and evening. And night...) was spent celebrating their victory. Try again.

It's funny because I was all self-satisfied and haughty last week as I heard so many others talk about their fitness-related resolutions. Fitness, I thought, was the one area I didn't need to resolve to do anything. It was already a priority and a routine for me.

Routinely ignored over the last week.

Enough of this nonsense; it's already week 3 of Boston training! At this time last year, I couldn't even walk, thanks to a New Years injury, and would have punched my future self for having the opportunity to get down to Boston training and not take advantage. Don't disappoint past Claire!

Number of Miles Run last Week: Ugh, maybe 16. Dailymile thinks 21, but some of those were hiking miles. 16 is weak, but in my defense, this is an actual elevation chart from a run in St. John last week:

Try running those hills without having had 15 beers and inhaling 29% DEET bug spray the night before.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: More than what most healthy people will drink in all of 2012. When we got back on Wednesday night, I was committed to drying out a bit. And then the Giants played (and won!) yesterday and I was undry.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Carib, Corona, Bud Light, Brooklyn Lager (not in St. John), Goose Island IPA.

Week 3! Go!

Reality Bites

2012-01-05T07:31:00.001-05:00

"I'm not going to work at the Gap for Chrissakes!"

It's back to the real world today for everyone's favorite beer runner (me). To remind you, this is what I saw when I woke up yesterday, and the 6 days before:

And this is what I saw when I woke up today, and will see every day for the next, oh, forty years:

It's like the depressing version of those "first day of retirement photo" commercials.

Give me a day to not kill myself or freeze to death in response to the 55 degree temperature differential between NYC and St. John and then I'll fill you in on my (minimal) running adventures and my (maximum) consumption of beer.

Boston Training, Day 2

2011-12-28T08:32:00.001-05:00

(Don't worry; I'm not going to do this for the next 112 days. Probably.) (Also I just used a pencil and paper to multiple 16 x 7 and am really quite proud of myself that I remembered how.) (And now is the part where someone points out in the comments that I did that math wrong.)

Yesterday being the first day of actual running on my Boston training plan, I woke up bright and early to get my mileage in before heading back to the city to help my sister find a wedding dress.* Santa brought me lots of great running things that I got to test out, including a new running top from Nike, and Nike sunglasses. "Santa" lives in Oregon, and as such, frequents Nike.

Unfortunately I've been eating so much popcorn/candy/cookies/bologna sandwiches over the holidays that I'm pretty sure some other runners saw me and thought to themselves "It's so great that that pregnant chick is out exercising!" And just in time for my vacation!

On that: tomorrow I'm going to St. John for a week with IMan and his friends (and my friend Leslie. Thank God for Leslie). True story: last night at dinner with my family, IMan kept leaning over and telling me he was going to be "the MVP of drunkenness" on our trip. Swoon. Anyway, I'm probably going to be pretty busy bailing my boyfriend out of Virgin Islandian (that's a word) jails, so you may not be hearing from me. Don't be too sad. Instead, look forward to all the great, alcohol-fueled stories I'll have upon my return. Oh yeah, and running-related ones too. Meh. Whatever.

If you're the resolution making type, make some good ones - that I can siphon off as my own, since I'm not really that committed to New Year's Resolutions. So far all I've got is:

Be the Pippa Middleton to my sister's Kate at her wedding

But that will happen naturally (look at us beauts!) so that's not really a resolution. Any suggestions?

Happy New Year, kids!

*For those wondering about the Kleinfeld experience: we did not see Randy (sadness); however, Joan with the warbly voice took Liz's measurements and was really nice. Liz's consultant, Renee, took us into the stockroom to pick dresses with her, so perhaps they only prohibit the riff raff girls who go on Say Yes to the Dress to go back there, not classy broads who are basically the Connecticut version of the Middletons such as ourselves. And Renee really did ask Liz, "is this your dress?" Liz panicked and screamed "I don't know!" but ultimately did say yes to it. And it's way prettier that Duchess Katherine's.

Boston Training, Day One

2011-12-26T21:33:00.001-05:00

Rested. Ate a bologna sandwich (another gift to myself). Got a pedicure. Drank wine. Watched football.

Holy shit, I'm AWESOME at marathon training.

Sunday Wrap Up: Our Gifts To Ourselves

2011-12-25T20:52:00.001-05:00

Before all the stockings were emptied and the presents were unwrapped and eggs were cooked and cookies were eaten, before all the Christmasing happened in our house this morning, I snuck out for 8 cold and hilly miles. And with them, I hit 1700 running miles this year.

1701, technically, because I'm not very good at math.

Seven states, three marathons, two marathon PRs, one ultra, my first age group place, my first win, and my highest mileage ever. And the Giants beat the Jets yesterday. I must have been very good this year, because those are all pretty excellent presents.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 33. With lots of long hours at work, I only had 4 days of running this week, but it felt good to get some decent miles in, especially with Boston training starting tomorrow. Surprise! Mondays are rest days! I love Boston training already!

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 10. Ish. I may have also had some Bailey's last night...

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Bud Lights (lots of Bud Lights...), Sam Adams Winter Lager, and Pearl Street Lake Effects IPA, which is delicious (full brew review to come, probably tomorrow, because another gift I gave myself was 10 days of vacation). Thanks, Uncle John!

I hope Santa was good to you today, but I hope you were good to yourself too. Treat yourself to a run. And a beer. Merry everything. Cheers!

Wake Up Call

2011-12-20T17:18:00.001-05:00

Let me begin by mentioning that I appear to be the only person born after 1980 who uses an actual alarm clock to wake up in the morning, as opposed to a cell phone. I've had the same alarm clock since my freshman year of college, and while it bears the scars of duct tape (from being adhered to the bed post of a twin bed that was lofted atop 2 dressers), it hasn't failed me in nearly 10 years (I'm ancient). Plus, the broad, boxy, three dimensional, non-touch screen buttons allow me to make a dramatic gesture of flopping my arm out of bed and slamming it down on the snooze button, like I'm some harried sitcom star.

This morning, like clockwork (get it?!) the alarm went off and I flopped my arm out of bed and onto the top of the clock. But for the first time, I didn't feel anything. I flopped and flopped and flopped and the clock continued to beep and beep and beep. My hand was totally asleep and therefore useless in accurately hitting snooze. In my groggy state, I at first thought I was paralyzed. Yes, even though I could move my arms... Anyway, next I thought maybe it wasn't my alarm. But I looked at the time and knew that I was in fact the person who had set it for 5:40. Finally, I unearthed my other arm from the covers and turned the alarm off. This whole process probably took a full two minutes, by which point I was so wide awake from the blaring alarm clock that I didn't need my usual 20 minutes of acclimating myself to civilized, waking life, and instead promptly got dressed and had time for nearly 9 miles in Prospect Park before work.

Take away lesson: People often ask me how they can train themselves to wake up and work out in the mornings. My experience indicates that giving yourself a Stranger is an excellent strategy.

Monday Wrap Up: 3 State Shuffle

2011-12-19T07:18:00.001-05:00

While the wine and Drambuie hangover that plagued me for much of the day Saturday wasn’t awesome, and the Giants’ continued late-season choke jobs are getting old, pretty much all other aspects of me weekend were spot on.

I headed up to Boston on Saturday afternoon for a lovely party at Caroline and Chris’ place to celebrate their upcoming matrimony, and also evolution, since the party was heavily attended by biologists. Our hosts were amply supplied with beers and Stromboli, so I was quite content. After about 15 hours in the great state of Massachusetts, I made my way back down to Connecticut with a bag full of gingerbread men, and enough time to log some miles on the treadmill while watching the aforementioned choke job. I swear, I could run a marathon on a treadmill as long as I had football to watch. It’s like the magic elixir of boredom prevention. Though it does get risky to be screaming and holding one’s head in one’s hands while trying to move at a 7.5mph clip…

I finished up my run and made my way back into the city with IMan for a holiday dinner at Kelly and Juan’s, where it became apparent that my 10-plus mile run was necessary in the face of ample quantities of bleu cheese, red wine, and peppermint bark. After a few hours of friend reunioning (and watching the Jets take a page out of the Giant playbook), IMan and I headed on to our next holiday engagement: the CMA Songwriters Series concert.

I’m always on the lookout for things I think IMan would like, and when I heard about the CMA Songwriters Series, I immediately snapped up tickets as an early Christmas gift to my bearded companion. From their website:

The CMA Songwriters Series showcases the best of Nashville's mega-hit songwriters! Each night of the series features four successful songwriters from Nashville, who line up on stage and, with guitar in-hand, take turns telling the stories behind their hit songs and performing them in the raw as originally written.

Given that we’ve twice gone to Nashville under the guise of running the Country Music Marathon or half, I thought this would be right up IMan’s alley and was really excited to take him.

The show was at Joe’s Pub on Lafayette (and despite the name, you don't actually need ID to enter, which was great, given that I left my wallet in Connecticut and therefore almost ruined Christmas...), which was an awesome concert venue. It’s small and intimate, so you can see and hear everything well. Seating is either at a bar or at communal table tops, but we were the only 2 at our table for 4. There is a dining minimum, which was a little challenging to meet given that we were coming from a dinner party, but I sacrificed by drinking 2 beers. I truly am a selfless gift giver.

Anyway, I really loved this show and think IMan did as well (it was, at the very least, an opportunity for him to wear his cowboy boots), but by the time it ended, we were very ready for bed. Boozy weekends will do that to you.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 31. I ran 3 fewer days last week than the week before, and only one fewer mile. A week from today marks the start of my Boston Marathon training plan, per TrainingPeaks, but a) the first day is a rest day, and b) my first week is only 25 miles of running. Good thing, because that peppermint bark Kelly and Juan gave us isn’t going to eat itself.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 10. Actual alcohol consumption severely underrepresented in that number. I had 4 holiday parties last week. That’s a lot of wine.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: A Bud Light or two, a few Brooklyn Lagers, a few Sixpoint Righteous Ryes, a few Harpoon IPAs, and my once-annual Harpoon Winter Warmer. I only drink one a year because it takes a whole year to forget that these are actually gross. I imagine if I drank the water in the Christmas tree stand, it would taste almost exactly like Winter Warmer. I think I even got a pine needle stuck in my teeth.

I leave you today with another update from the Movement; apparently, it’s catching on. Below is a photo my Dad emailed me. The subject was “Occupy Sneakers in Tod's Point.” Told you this was going to be huge.

Brew(ish) Review: Guinness Gelato

2011-12-17T10:11:00.001-05:00

You guys, we made it. By some miracle, we didn't quit our jobs in Jerry McQuire-inspired fits of ragey bravado. We didn't get drunk at our holiday parties and tell our work nemesi they've been pronouncing our client's name wrong for a year. We didn't cry in the handicapped stall. It's Saturday, and we made it through the work week.

This was an especially trying one for me, so when quitting' time rolled around, I was out the door and off to Connecticut, eager to unwind over dinner with IMan. He also had a stressful week, so our plan to finally use a gift certificate from my parents for a dinner and wine pairing at Strada18 was perfectly timed.

Dinner was really good, and the manager, Henry, was super attentive and made some great wine recommendations for us. But that's not what I'm here to talk about, because I don't write a wine blog (more like a whine, blog, amirite?). When it was time for dessert, IMan took a look at the menu and said "I think you should have A Beer and A Shot."

Guinness Gelato. Shot of Drambuie. Sold.

Interjection: my family has something of a history with Drambuie. I could be getting parts of this story wrong (please correct me in the comments, Mom and Dad), but as I've been told, my mom attended a party at my dad's apartment in college, and brought a set of pilsner glasses as a host gift. I don't quite know the impetus for what happened next, but evidently one of my dad's roommates spent the evening drinking Drambuie by the pilsner glass. His coordination must have been affected (you think?), so by the end of the night he had broken them all. Then i believe he spent the rest of the night throwing up (you think?), and the apartment stunk like Drambuie for ever after. If you've never smelled Drambuie, count your blessings. If you have, you can imagine what it might have been like to drink a pilsner glass of it. My parents shudder at the mention of the word, and we've never had it at home or at a restaurant, so until last night, I'd never tasted it.

Back to dessert: I figured this dessert would be served with a shot on the side, which I would make IMan drink because of the aforementioned family history. But when dessert arrived (his was white chocolate bread pudding with passion fruit sauce, which was also good if a little tart, but I'm not a food blogger either and as you can tell didn't spend our date photographing our plates, so what do I know?), it was served as two scoops over Guinness gelato in a pool of Drambuie. And good God, was it delicious.

Guinness is among my favorite draft (excuse me, that's draught) beers; it's thick and somewhat milky and subtly sweet, vaguely reminiscent of a chocolate milkshake. But it's very light for a stout, so you're not left feeling stuffed and bloated. So it would make sense that the flavors translated well when put into gelato form, and given that gelato is often served as a palate cleanser between courses as opposed to an over-the-top, decadent dessert, it seemed like a natural fit. And was it ever. The sweetness and chocolate were apparent, but not so much that this could have been two scoops of chocolate gelato. The warmth and subtly of the Guinness definitely held up, even in a cold dessert. And it wasn't rich or filling. I thought the Drambuie actually was what took it from "mild palate cleanser" to "dessert," given the syrupy consistency and strong, liqueur flavor. I don't know a lot about alcohol outside of beer, so I can't speak to the flavor profile of Drambuie beyond "that tastes like booze!," but I bet this would also work with Frangelico or another nutty liqueur as the shot. Or go the classy Car Bomb route with Jameson. Oh my God, I want it for breakfast.

An Update From the Frontlines of the Movement

2011-12-16T08:37:00.001-05:00

Since we last spoke, I have managed to add 14 miles to my weekly total. I also managed to spend close to 12 hours at work yesterday, and didn't suffer a psychotic break. Except for suggesting to my boss that we dress as picnic tables to attend a meeting with a home decor company this morning. And begging him not to leave me alone in the office last night by saying "just sit here and tell me a story while I finish these emails."

Anyway, as promised, I Occupied Sneakers on the treadmill last night, and followed that up by Occupying Sneakers in Prospect Park this morning. I plan to Occupy Sneakers in Connecticut this weekend. Isn't it great how this Occupy movement can take place anywhere? I'm so smart for thinking of it yesterday.

Occupy Something

2011-12-15T09:41:00.002-05:00

Oh, hey. You probably thought I'd died of a cheese-fry-or-endurance-sport-induced heart attack, or fell victim to the Preppy Killer after a night of pounding beers uptown, or maybe even gave up drinking and blogging and doin' it in favor of dedicating my life to religious studies. If you thought the last one, you must be new here.

Or maybe you thought none of these things, and instead are now thinking, "Girl, we heard from you 4 days ago. That means you're a shitty blogger, but not that you're a born again virgin (I mean, just a regular, always-have-been virgin, Dad...)"

Either way, I feel like I've been out of my running and blogging element this week. As of this fine Thursday morning, I've run precisely once this week, for a whopping total of 6 miles. (Though I am an ultramarathoner). I've spent the rest of the week alternately slaving over grant applications, weeping under my desk, and eating my feelings. Okay, and drinking. Sixpoint Righteous Rye, let's snuggle under the covers together.

Oh, I also spent 85 minutes trapped on a subway under the East River. I tell you that in an effort to garner some sympathy, but really it wasn't that bad. I had a seat and an iPad, so frankly I could have stayed down there all day. But it wasn't necessarily something I'd have chosen to include in my schedule.

Fun and healthy as that all sounds, I'm being to lose it. Not because I'm all, "Girl, I go crazy if I can't be doing my healthy living thing! I need to run and eat produce and breathe non-recycled air." I like all that stuff, sure, but I have a pretty high tolerance for ordering take out at my desk (and my exercise ball chair is collecting dust, so I could use that to pound out a few crunches...). Mostly, I don't like not being in charge of my own schedule and feeling like I don't have time for the things I want to do. To some extend, it comes with the end of year/holiday territory; loose ends at work needs to be tied up, parties need to be attended, obligations need to be fulfilled. And while we all do great things for our company/friends/family/charity, especially as the year comes to a close, we need to be doing great things for ourselves too. Being selfish rules!

So I'm starting a new movement. Occupy Sneakers. I have a feeling this one's going to be huge, and I'll pepper spray any who disagree. I'm going to have to work late tonight, which can't be helped. But after that, I'm making time to drag my (increasingly expanding) ass to the gym, to spend some quality time on the treadmill. Because exercise is good for you, but because my particular passion happens to be running. But doing something you love doesn't have to be fitness-y and shit. I also love beers, so perhaps after I run, I will Occupy Sixpacks. Maybe your passion is doing crossword puzzles. Carve yourself out some time in the midst of everything else to do that. Occupy New York Times Arts Section! Or maybe you're into playing flamenco music in your underpants. Good for you! Occupy Latin America and Lingerie! Maybe you have an interest in online pornography. Indulge (provided you and your partner are on the same page about that). Occupy YouPorn! The point is, do something for yourself, that you actually enjoy (don't, for example, schedule a dentist appointment, unless you're all about going to the dentist. Occupy Fluoride doesn't sound as cool. Occupy Advent Calendar does, though, and that'll give you a reason to go to the dentist in January).

What are you Occupying?

Sunday Wrap Up: Mission Accomplished

2011-12-11T18:52:00.001-05:00

Late last year or early in 2011, I decided to commit to running at least one race each month this year. This morning's Jingle Bell Jog 3-miler in Greenwich, CT was my December race, and with it now under my belt, I officially made good on my resolution. No word yet on when I might start working on those 2010 plans to swear less and cook more...

I set the alarm for the way-too-early-for-a-Sunday-when-you're-Godless-and-childless hour of 7:00am and tip toed around getting on my race gear while trying not to wake up IMan, who for some strange reason did not want to wake up early on a Sunday in the winter to run a race with my dad. Weird. I headed to my parents' house with coffee in hand and collected my Dad for our race day adventure.

We've probably run this race 10 times before, and in addition to this one, Threads and Treads puts on several more throughout the year, so we knew what to expect. We found on-street parking a half mile from the start and swung into the store to find 1) a huge line of race-day registrants, and 2) no more jingle bells! Thankfully, my Dad elbowed a small child out of the way when we spied a few extra bells laying around on the registration table and hooked us up. We moved to a sunny spot to pin on our bells and hang out until the start.

Despite the long line still waiting to register at 8:30am, the race started close to the scheduled 9:00am gun time. My Dad and I hung together for the duration of the race, which starts just on the outskirts of the commercial district and wends through residential Greenwich, over 3 miles of rolling hills. This race always attracts lots of families, so while we weren't the only father-daughter duo out there, we were probably the oldest. Around 1.5 miles, we came upon a father-son team, the younger of whom patiently explained "there's no way I can run 3 whole miles!" The dad responded with, "it's okay buddy; you're doing great!" While promptly hoisted the kid onto his shoulders and continue to run. Passing us. My dad did not offer to carry me.

While my dad pointed out that our first two miles were fast for him, he said he was indeed feeling great, so we pressed on without adjusting our pace too much. Just after 2.5 miles, so runners came in the other direction and were very impressed with the child-hauling Dad, telling him he deserved to be Dad of the Year.

After cresting the last hill, we cruised back down towards the start/finish area and Dudley had plenty of kick. We came in just behind the father-son team, with the son running in for the last quarter mile and then telling the race official in the finish chute (who happens to be my sneaker store crush...) "my Dad won the Dad of the Year award!" I told my own Dad he could be runner-up for that award, for finishing just under 35 minutes. Go Dudley!

At the finish, we grabbed water and clementines and didn't feel like waiting for a mimosa, so we headed back to the car and made our way home. All in all, a great morning spend with my Dad, and a nice way to round out the Year of the Race.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 32. I actually ran every day this week, which is unusual, and I think isn't reflected in my mileage. Despite an easy-paced run today, yesterday I knocked out 4-plus miles in a 7:21 average pace, which is quite frankly blistering for me. Wednesday also saw the return of hill work (2 weeks early. Of all things that could possibly come early [sister and brother-in-law coming home, Jets-Giants game, warm weather vacation], hill work is not the one I'd pick...), with a tough 8 miler. So even if quantity wasn't anything to write home about this week, I'm at least proud of some quality in the mix.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 10 so far, but the Giants are the Sunday night game, and there an untouched growler with my name on it in the fridge...

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Heineken, Blue Moon, Bud Light, Smithwick's, and one dinner order that should have been a Sam Adams Winter Ale but was almost definitely a Coors Light. Even I have higher standards than that.

Number of Awesome Naps This Week: 1. Oh my God, yesterday afternoon's nap was the best I've ever had. And it was followed by that fast four-miler. I should probably make it a regular occurrence.

Number of Crappy Naps This Week: 1. I was just trying to catch some z's ahead of the football game when the cat got on the couch with me. She's so fat we literally couldn't both fit. I tried to gently remove her with my feet but that bitch is stubborn. I ended up on the floor. Rude.

If you love me, please send winning vibes to the Giants tonight. It's all I want for Christmas. Besides a non-dead goldfish...

Wednesday Wrap Up: Wednesday? What a Slacker

2011-12-07T07:40:00.001-05:00

Sorry it’s taken me more than 3 days to write a recap of the Beer Run, which I know you’ve only asked for (okay, I think only 2 people have asked for it…) because you want something to do at work besides your actual job. Day one was spent feeling sorry for myself for my hangover, and for the Giants. Despite spending approximately 12 hours in my apartment being lazy, I did not manage to use that time to write a recap – such was the magnitude of my hangover. Day two was spent looking at everyone else’s pictures from the event, and also running, as I felt slightly guilty for having had 3 separate meals of French fries during and after the beer run. By day 3, I was ready to enjoy a few beers again, which is what I did last night instead of writing the recap. You see how this can turn into a problematic cycle?

I may be biased here, but I'd have to say the Third Edition of "We'll Run For Beer" was the best to date. Great weather, 5 bars, 6+ miles of running, nearly 40 participants, and lots of newcomers. I also think that part of what made this one so good was that, while everyone ran the route in the same order and direction, people moved on to the next stop when they were ready; not sticking exactly together and waiting for everyone to be ready meant that if you particularly liked (or didn't like) a spot, you could enjoy it at your own pace, while not moving so fast that you missed anyone at any bar. For the past 2 "We'll Run For Beer" events, we've basically stuck together as a group the entire time. By the latter stops, that means there's some herding cats to be done. I think this system worked a lot better. I'd like to credit my map print outs, thankyouverymuch.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I started out the morning running the course once dry, as I hadn't yet done that and am nothing if not totally well-prepared. Thankfully there were no glitches in the route (though when I mapped it on paper I hadn't considered just how sketchy Avenues C and D are...), but I did note a few places to avoid dog poop or watch out for cobblestones and confusing traffic patterns. I also noted a couple of spots where the route could be shortened for those who were more into the beer than the running. Different strokes.

I returned to Madison Square Park and considered getting a hot dog while I waited for the beer runners to turn up. Slowly but surely, they trickled in: old friends, new friends, other friend's boyfriends and girlfriends, and their friends, and strangers from the internet. I made my traditional pre-run remarks: don't get hit by cars or step in dog poop, and don't forget I am an ultramarathoner (I added that line for the first time this go-around. Because it's true. Which I may not have mentioned to this point.)

(Thanks Erica for this image, which captures my pre race remarks and my beer goggles)

We ran a loop of Madison Square Park and then headed to our first stop: Molly's Shebeen.

To be honest, the folks at Molly's weren't that happy to see us; 40 loud, Spandex-clad, thirsty runners take up a lot of room, and Molly's is not a large bar. Plus, they were in the middle of serving brunch. Perhaps they were unhappy because when I called ahead of time to let them know we'd be coming, the woman with whom I spoke had a very thick brogue and told me "We don't accept somethingsomething between Thanksgiving and Christmas," and perhaps that somethingsomething was "parties of 5 or more." The world may never know, and Maura didn't offer her Irish translation services. In any case, we warmed ourselves by the fire, kicked up some saw dust, had a beer, and departed for stop number 2.

(Thanks, Michelle, for capturing this shot of about half of our crew, and my EXTREME ENTHUSIASM for Nicole and Jason's arrival...

Hop Devil was a late addition to the Beer Run course, but given our experience at Molly's and their brunch crowd, I'm definitely glad we subbed out Sunburnt Cow and added Hop Devil in its place. I'd actually not been there before, but they had a robust beer selection and plenty of room for us to spread out. Plus they had a red-headed, bearded bartender, so obviously I was on board.

I'm also glad that Gil paid for some Beer Run promotion and bought the rights to leave a message on the above bar chalk board.

Thanks, Neal, for your on-the-run photography skills

Though the next stop, dba, was only a few blocks away, my map took us back east through scenic Alphabet City, onto the East River path for 4 blocks, and back over the FDR Drive into the East Village. Is it any wonder I don't excel at running the tangents? Anyway, some of our group took the direct route, while others of us followed the map. Neal even threatened to run some 800s at the East 6th Street track, but thankfully we dissuaded him. Plus he got his speed work in a mile later, when he and I engaged in a head to head 40 yard dash to the bar. He won. I guess I don't have a future in the NFL. Damn.

dba came highly recommended from Brad and Neal, and it did not disappoint. Their enclosed back patio with picnic tables was the perfect place to enjoy a couple beers and be able to rest our run-weary legs. They also had gluten-free beer, which made Erica happy. Their bathroom was slightly sketchy, but you can't win 'em all. I'll definitely be back to dba.

(Again, thanks to Neal for the photo)

Stop 4 was Bleecker St Bar, which I really talked up in the sense that I talked it down. My past experiences in this bar have all involved homeless and/or crazy people fighting in the bathrooms, but I noticed on Saturday they've posted a sign outside that indicates restrooms are for patrons only (maybe the less fortunate should go to dba...). Plus, they have both Delirium Tremens and Goose Island on tap, so I guess it isn't all that divey. In any case, Bleecker St was happy to have us, and had plenty of room, and we stuck around for 2 beers.

By this point, we weren't the fastest or most coordinated runners, but we made our way through Washington Square Park, up Fifth Ave, and back to Madison Square Park to the finale: Shake Shack. I was quite surprised at how many beer runners had never been there before (and didn't know the most important trick: there's a separate line for beers!) so I was happy to hear everyone enjoyed the food (and the Smuttynose Brown Dog Ale - a personal favorite of mine) despite the fact that it was now after 4 pm and was also freezing. Those are some committed beer runners.

Now, as for the week which the Beer Run wrapped up...

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 32. Don't ask me how many were run drunk.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: Um 12? Or 15. And also maybe a hot toddy, according to the post-beer run photos Neal sent me...

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Because people like me, I don't think I bought any of my own beers during the beer run, which means in some cases I drank whatever was generously foisted upon me (Mmm, Roofie Coolada!). I can definitely account for 2 Smuttynose Brown Dog Ales (at Shake Shack), something from a Cask (at Rattle N Hum), a Guinness (at Bleecker St Bar), and... other beers at other bars. It's quite shocking no one pays or otherwise sponsors me to review beers, as I am such a consummate note taker.

Thanks so much to everyone who came out for the Third "We'll Run For Beer." It really makes me happy to be able to see so many people enjoying running and beers, even if those people don't identify as runners or beer drinkers. And it means a lot to me personally that, of all the running and drinking activities in this fine city (and there actually quite a few), y'all show up to mine. It was great to see you, run with you, and drink with you. I hope you'll be back in the spring for the fourth iteration.

Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain

2011-12-02T11:18:00.001-05:00

After more than a few iterations, the final, final, seriously-I-won't-change-it-anymore route for tomorrow's "We'll Run For Beer" is laid out for you over on the Beer Runs page. See you at 12:00pm at the South East Corner entrance to Madison Square Park (23rd and Madison). Dress warmly, come thirsty, and don't be weird.

In Mourning

2011-11-30T07:29:00.001-05:00

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to say our goodbyes.* After a (8 month) long and happy life, during which he received better quality (and more expensive) medical care than I do, my boon companion and Black Moor aquatic friend, Four, is no longer with us.

Let us rejoice in our memories of Four:
Those who came before him
His role in my first Boston Marathon
Four as a zoological reflection of myself

Naturally, I'm in a period of grieving right now, but I do hope one day to have another underwater friend with whom I can share my life (and coffee table). Four, Jr., naturally. But for now, let us drink to my aquatic amie (as the French would say), and be thankful for the times we had together. And also maybe a little bit thankful that we didn't have to arrange for fish-sitting while I'm on vacation next month. Too soon?

I miss you, buddy, and this morning's run was for you. Swim in peace.

*I'm actually quoting Rent there, but I'm pretty sure that's how funeral masses begin anyway.

Sunday Wrap Up: Brooks Pure Project Shoes

2011-11-27T21:06:00.001-05:00

Subtitle: I Needed New Shoes To Log All The Miles I Must Run Given How Many Beers I Drank This Week.

Hey there, Ultramarathoner Claire here. I snagged myself a new pair of kicks while I was in CT over the holiday weekend (I'm thankful that, even though I am a full-grown adult, my Dad still insists on paying for my running shoes when I'm home). So I headed to Greenwich Running Company (which has a good shoe selection and a treadmill to try out shoes, but is staffed entirely by eager/awkward high school cross country runners) to snap up a replacement pair.

Though I've been a full fledged Kinvara convert since I made the switch last Fall, I was interested in the Brook Pure Project, as I am a sucker for marketing:

Oooh, colors!

I ended up hopping on the in-store 'mill in the women's PureConnect, the first time I've worn women's running shoes in probably a decade. I don't know how I ended up in men's shoes to begin with (though wearing a size 11 probably had something to do with it), but men's shoes have always been comfortable for me. Plus, in the men's models, I'm never given the option of hot pink sneakers (though my current skull-and-crossbone laces could probably make even hot pink Kinvaras look badass).

Anyway, the PureConnect felt good, so I decided to bite the bullet and give them a shot. At $90, they're the same price as the Kinvaras. Which is free for me, since my dad did indeed pay. In any event, I've had a few runs in them since Friday, and here are my thoughts:

Pros:

Lighter than the Kinvaras (6.5 oz for the women's PureConnect, versus 7.7 oz on the men's Kinvaras)

Snug fit: the PureConnect have an internal elastic band around the midfoot, which makes them feel as snug as a sock. I actually tried on another Pure Project pair, the PureFlow. They felt like my feet were wearing down vests. Way too much shoe for me. The close fit of the PureConnect was much more my speed.

Open mesh: same as the Kinvaras, the upper is built of mesh, which means my toes get a breeze when I'm on the run

Cons:

They look weird. I don't know how much of this is the fact that they're women's shoes and therefore more narrow than what I'm used to, but looking down at these makes me think I'm a European tourist wearing trendy walking sneakers by Gucci or something. There is also what is described on the Brooks' website as a "split toe groove," which doesn't feel any different than any other minimal sneaker to me, but looks like some kind of amphibious dinosaur. I'd be willing to bet that, being marketed as a minimalist training, the PureConnect split toe groove is meant to lure in Fivefinger runners.

The nubby tread has a noticeable feel through the sole. The Kinvaras have a flat bottom, whereas the PureConnect have these weird lumpy nodes that make me feel like I'm wearing those horrifying "toning" sneakers. I can feel these nodes when I'm running. It's not a bad feeling, necessarily; it's just weird in comparison to the Kinvaras.

Snug fit: While I thought I liked this when I tried them on the treadmill for 2 minutes, I've realized that, during actual runs, I need to be sure not to tie my shoes too tight; if I'm not careful, the fit can go from "snug" to "gangrene-inducing" pretty quickly.

I'll be interested to see how these hold up over a couple hundred miles. My only complaint about the Kinvaras is that they wear down so quickly - 250 miles and I can start to feel them breaking down in my shins and ankles, and by 300, I'm running directly to the sneaker store to replace them. The over-eager high school runners assured me I could wear the PureConnect for both training and racing, and that these weren't just a racing flat, so we'll see how they're doing in another 8 weeks or so. My next major race isn't until Boston in April, so I have plenty of time now to play around a little with my shoes.

And now, the wrap up, which indicates I should be doing more running and less taking pictures of my European Dinosaur shoes...

Number of Miles Run This Week: 26. I'll take it.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 18. And 10 were on Friday. Which, incidentally, is the same day I got my new shoes. Whoops.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Sam Adams Winter Ale, Harpoon Winter Warmer (aka Nutmeg-flavored instant hangover), Long Trail Harvest Ale, Founders Centennial IPA, Wolaver's IPA, and a lot of Bud Light.

Next up on the brew review front: My uncle and his girlfriend brought me a growler from Pearl Street Grill & Brewery in Buffalo. I believe it is their Lake Effect Pale Ale. I shall provide a comprehensive report just as soon as I've fully counteracted all the beers I drank this week with mileage. So, sometime in 2012? Ugh.

(It should go without saying that neither Greenwich Running Company, nor Brooks, nor Saucony paid me to say any of the above. Though the sneakers were free - thanks again, Dad!)

Giving Thanks

2011-11-24T13:06:00.001-05:00

For long runs. For cold beers. For kind friends.

The Food Taper

2011-11-23T07:30:00.001-05:00

I've gone about this all wrong. I hate myself for that, too, because I should know better. 27 years of experience, and I blew it. Now the big show is tomorrow and I haven't been tapering. It's time to face the music: this Thanksgiving isn't going to be a PR.

It's too bad, really, because the Knickerbocker 60k should have left me primed in terms of depleted calories. But, like every nervous athlete, I didn't trust the training. I thought I needed to eat more, right up until the last day. "Let me just squeeze in one more bite of cookie dough." "Just 10 minutes at the buffet." Just like you can't cram for an exam (or a marathon), you can't cram for Thanksgiving.

Except for the actually cramming of food you do into your gullet on Thursday.

Sunday Wrap Up: Knickerbocker 60k Race Report

2011-11-20T20:36:00.001-05:00

Today, I napped for 2 hours, ate dinner at 5:00, and used a heating pad on my lower back. There is really no difference between being an ultramarathoner and an elderly person.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 46. That was only 3 runs. Remember that time I ran 60k?

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 12. That was only in 3 days. Remember that time I stayed out until 1am after running a 60k?

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: I'll be honest; yesterday was about quantity over quality, in miles and in beers. I drank Heineken and Bud Light. I think there were some Sierra Nevadas earlier in the week. Back before I was an ultramarathoner. Have I mentioned I ran a 60k yesterday?

And speaking of which, I've had a day to collect my thoughts on the ultramarathon experience, and now I will share them with you, because they are obviously profound and important and obviously you are dying to know about them, and I am a generous ultramarathoner. To the race report!

Pre-Race: I registered for this bad boy the morning of the race. I got to the NYRR headquarters right at 6:45, and registration was fast and painless. We all had blue bibs, usually reserved door the first corral in NYRR races, but maybe they wanted us all the feel like bad asses. Shirts were crappy cotton long sleevers, which I usually use as throwaways before marathons, but will probably hang onto as proof of my ultramarathon-ness. Registration cost $35 for non-members - gotta be one of the cheapest officially organized ultras around.

One of the reasons I got to the NYRR HQ so early was to use their bathroom, but access was blocked and we were told to use the portapotties in the Park. In general, the people in the HQ were up to their usual jerky NYRR tricks: yelling at people to not sit on the steps, etc. We get it, but maybe ask politely instead of shouting at a bunch of people who woke up very early for the privilege of giving you our money and running 37.2 miles.

I headed to the Park around 7:15 and there was no line for the four portapotties at the start, so I was in and out quickly. Unfortunately for those who arrived soon after, that wasn't the case. Four portapotties for 400 registered runners doesn't come close to being enough, and when the start whistle was blown, there were still runners waiting in line.

Bag check was the usual NYRR affair. Some people who were smarter and more prepared than me brought drop bags with snacks and gear to hang on the fence along the bridal path, to have quick, mid-race access. Eissa kindly offered to hold some of my gear, but between my SpiBelt and Nathan handheld, I had enough fuel on me and didn't need to stash any. We had a chance to see Robin at the start, who was manning the lap counting tent and wished us well in our little run.

On To The Running Part: Eissa, who ran the Knickerbocker for the first time in 2009, kindly allowed me to tag along with her for the start. We decided to go out around 9:00/mile for as long as that felt good. We had a good time catching up - I don't think we'd run together since the Spring - and the miles ticked by. After the initial out and back 1.2 mile jaunt to 102nd Street, we picked up her friend Ryan for the first (of 9) 4-mile loop.

Running, chatting, running, chatting. We hooked around 72nd Street and up the West Side, which was way hillier than I was expecting. I know that sounds dumb, given how many times I've run in Central Park, but I guess because this course cut off the Harlem Hill, my mindset was all "yay, the hard part is taken out of this run!" False. Going through Loop 1 scared me a little; if I thought these hills were hard with only 3 miles on my legs, how would I be feeling when I had been running for 5 hours?

We plodded on and came through the timing area at 90th Street right around 35:30 - a touch faster than the 9:00/mile plan. As we came through the chute, everyone cheered for us by name, thanks to Robin, and we picked up Cate and headed into Loop 2.

Running, chatting, running, chatting. On the West Side, a woman out for her Saturday run told us, "Looking good! Halfway there!" Eissa looked down at her Garmin. "Actually, we have 30 miles to go." Burn.

Going into Loop 3, we dropped off Eissa's friend Ryan and picked up my friend Brad, who had been eating pickles at Katz' deli at 2:00am. Excellent prep for a nice little run. We kept plugging along, at some point being lapped by the leaders, which felt not awesome. More running, picked up Sharon and Josh somewhere in there. Still right around 9:00/miles through that loop.

I decided at the start of Loop 4 that I'd aim to run one more at the 9:00/mile pace and then ease up. Eissa was going strong and she and Josh pulled ahead, so I kept plugging away.

Loop 4, Loop 5, Loop 6... Really it was all the same, but with more/different friends, and one break to pee. Not boring, because of the good company, but nothing to write home about. It was actually just like a long run - no pressure, lots of talking, no real regard for splits. Cate stuck around for 3 loops, Sharon did one, Liza and Gil joined for one, Maura joined for one, Josh came back after running with Eissa to lend his support, and pickles fueled Brad for more than 3 loops. Thanks to amazing friends, and the dedicated spectators who dotted the Park, I found myself with 2 loops to go and hadn't stopped to walk. I was feeling pretty good, actually, thanks to slowing down to a more comfortable pace. And I was officially an ultra marathoner, at 29 miles. But ugh, 2 more loops. I came through the chute and passed the winners... Because they were done and standing still with their awards. D'oh.

Robin joined me for loop 8 and soon we spotted Susan, who joined our ranks. I was moving pretty slowly by then, around 10:30/miles, so I was grateful that those two speed demons we're willing to run with me at a snail's pace. As we came to the 72nd St transverse, we scooped up Brennan and Kelly, whose enthusiasm gave me an extra boost of energy.

Running, chatting, running. Last loop! Susan and Robin broke off to cheer at the finish for Eissa, who was about a half a loop ahead of me. Kelly, Brennan, and I continued on. The West Side hills were bad, but frankly not that much worse than they were from the start. We passed the hotdog cart around 85th Street and for the 9th and final time, I asked if anyone wanted a hotdog.

Up to 102nd, the last set of rolling hills, and the finish was in sight. I mustered some energy and kicked as best as I could through the chute, terrified I'd get there and be told I'd miscounted and had one more loop, which I definitely could not have done. But thankfully, I crossed the line in 5:56 and was done. Automatic PR. And if I haven't made it clear, I'm now an ultramarathoner.

The End: I was kind of shocked that there was no food at the finish. While there had been a table manned by volunteers handing out bananas and bagels during the run (I had half a banana going into Loop 7, but otherwise stuck to 3 Gus), there was nothing at the finish beyond water, Gatorade, and our finisher awards - plaques, rather than medals, which are cool to have, but also not wearable. When I go out drinking after a long race, I want everyone I encounter to know, damnit. Never fear; I just displayed my plaque on the bar. And on the table in the diner...

In conclusion: I am glad I did this race. I was obviously undertrained, but at no point did I think I wouldn't finish. I'm proud I didn't walk at all; though my legs were definitely fatigued, and got that way earlier than I had expected (that's undertraining for you), I wasn't in pain at all, and was able to go out for beers after a shower (and a slice of pizza) last night, sans nap. My lower back is pretty painful tonight, not in an "I need a massage way," but in a "something maybe got pulled or pushed or smushed or crunched in there somewhere in the course of almost 6 hours of running" kind of way, but between the heating ad and some Advil, I expect to make a full recovery.

No stomach troubles at all, which might have been my biggest fear. No weird nutritional needs either; I've definitely raced marathons where I've been hungry during the run, but that never happened yesterday, maybe because I was, on average, almost 2 minutes/mile slower than my marathon pace. But I ate less during the 60k than I do during the marathon. I was sort of secretly hoping I'd have weird food cravings, but I guess Brad had that on lock with his late night pickle rampage.

Having my friends there was really crucial, and I don't think I would have finished, certainly not without walking, if they hadn't been there to distract me with their hilarious stories (and emails, courtesy of Abbe Lew), and also to help me refill my handheld with Gatorade and water and generally say supportive and kind things. Seriously, my crew was truly incredible, and I can't overstate how lucky I am to have all of them in my life, running and otherwise. I wonder if I can convince them to crew for me every race, and also maybe just come to my apartment every morning and say nice things to me, like "you look skinny and your hair looks great today!"

Would I do this again? Well here's the thing: I like the marathon. There is racing strategy involved. Whereas with ultras, 1) having to develop and implement a strategy over such a long time seems like an insurmountable mental challenge, and 2) the spirit generally seems to be more along the lines of "how far can I go? How much intensity can I handle?" than "what's my game plan to execute a fast race?" I don't have the brain power to actually race an ultra, and to run them just for the sake of running far isn't appealing to me as a challenge. I mean, I'm proof that if you go slow enough, you can pretty much run forever. I know an ultra in Central Park isn't your typical ultra, and maybe I'd consider a trail 50k. But I'd consider a trail 10k too. I'm not ruling them out forever, but I don't need to run more than 26.2, and certainly don't plan to be a competitive ultramarathoner from now on or anything.

But that doesn't mean you don't have to refer to me as an ultramarathoner forever more. You do.

Greetings from an Ultramarathoner

2011-11-20T07:44:00.001-05:00

60 kilometers in 5:56:06.

Truth be told, I'm more proud of the following statistics, also from yesterday:

8 beers, 1 shot, 1 cheeseburger, and 1 slice of pizza in 7 hours.

So This Is Real, I Guess

2011-11-18T20:53:00.001-05:00

6 packages of Gu, 3 pairs of socks, 2 pills of Immodium, and 0 beers on display tonight. 37.2 miles in the morning. Here's hoping I'll be an ultramarathoner next time you hear from me.

On Abstinence

2011-11-16T07:50:00.001-05:00

What I said on Monday, about not drinking this week as we approach my first ultra distance race?

I meant that starts today...

P.S. Regarding Saturday's relaxed, easy, just-happens-to-be-extra-long (that's what he said) long run: this thing starts at 8:00am. I think (but have no idea, really) that I'll finish between 6 and 6 and a half hours later. As such, if you happen to be in Central Park, basically at any point on Saturday, and want to join me for a 4 mile loop, I welcome you to do so. Marathoner and Ironwoman Eissa will be running as well, but she's a real-life bad ass, so when I inevitably fall behind her gazelle-like strides, it would be a delight to have someone jump in and let me curse at them and force-feed me Gatorade and pretzels (sounds like fun already!). I told IMan I'd already secured about 18 miles of companionship. He said "that's only half the race!" Actually, it's less than half, Mr. Applied Math at Yale. But to his point, there are plenty more miles to be ticked off, and post-run beers are on me. Come on out!

Monday Wrap: This Time Without Vomit

2011-11-14T07:31:00.001-05:00

My smallest friend Caroline came into town this weekend to visit me in my palatial apartment in Brooklyn, which is almost as nice as her home in Boston, minus the matching furniture that is not from Ikea and the handsome and handy fiancé (IMan was indisposed at Tough Mudder this weekend, where I fear he may have gone from "handsome," to "frozen and disfigured" over the course of 12 miles of obstacles, but that's for another time). We met when we were little baby college freshman (she was even smaller then), and have remained friends ever since, despite the fact that her career as an ecologist means sometimes she lives in weird places. And by weird I mean "not New York." But anyway, Caroline came to visit and despite no longer being 18, we ate and drank like children. The only difference this time was that we also went to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, given her professional interests and expertise. And the fact that I wanted her to expense our whole weekend.

Since I'm marginally classier than I was as a poor college student in Maine, instead of drinking Natty Light on my bed, I took Caroline to the Standard Biergarten. All of that background was just set up so that I could point out that I did not throw up there. This time.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 27. So do I taper now? Does anyone have any idea how to run a 60k? Anyone at all? Jump in at any time...

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: Um, also 60k? Is this a trick?

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: I drank the Bitburger at the Standard (Caroline had the hefeweisse), and followed it up with the 21st Amendment Brewing Company Fireside Chat Winter Spiced Ale, which would have been even better had it not been 55 degrees outside. Also, I'm pretty sure 21st Amendment is a bar I actually went to in San Francisco when I was there for the marathon. Other beers last week included Long Trail Harvest Brown Ale, a totally unseasonable Shock Top, and a bunch of train beers. AKA Bud Lights.

And with that, in the grand tradition of race weeks, I suppose I'm off the sauce until the weekend. Oh, did I mention that, beyond the potential 60k on Saturday, I have a 4 miler with coworkers on Sunday? I can't decide if I'd rather do the 60k and have an excuse to be slow on Sunday, or if I'd get psycho jealous and competitive seeing my colleagues speed off through Central Park, me shouting behind them, "You know I ran 37 miles yesterday. You're not better than me!" I'm well-adjusted...

Are you running the Knickerbocker on Saturday? Have you ever? Please weigh in with your thoughts in the comments (unless you're my parents, who are advocating strongly against it. My mom even tried "but your knees!" Like I were new to this whole "running" thing.) (P.S. Happy birthday to the aforementioned Mom)

The Ten Day Forecast

2011-11-10T12:40:00.003-05:00

So you know how, before a big race, you check the weather habitually as soon as the ten-day forecast is available, and hope that, perhaps by some miracle, the act of checking the weather will somehow impact it such a way that you’ll be treated to a 55 degree overcast day when you wake up on race morning, even though you know it doesn’t matter, because in the end, you’ll be running even if there’s a hurricane outside on race day? (See: Smuttynose Marathon).

I’m having the opposite experience right now.

I’ve said all along, I might consider running the Knickerbocker 60k, but only if the weather is nice on Saturday, November 19th. There’s no pressure or need to register ahead of time for this race, unlike any other big race for which I’d be checking the forecast (and for which I’d have trained for months), so I can indeed decide to run (or not run) based entirely on the weather. Naturally, this means I've been trying to log some decent long runs just in case, but mostly I've been secretly hoping for rain.

Today, Saturday, November 19th entered the 10 day forecast. And it looks great. Which is not good.

Worth It

2011-11-08T11:16:00.001-05:00

First of all, despite the fact that I had no trouble waking up at 5:15 this morning, I didn’t particularly feel like running long before work today. But I told all you I was doing it, and far be it from me to let down a bunch of anonymous weirdos from the internet. So I did run long. 16.5 miles long in 2 hours, 12 minutes. Fueled by 2 burritos and a metric ton (would that be a “tonne?”) of Nutella last night and a cup of coffee, a chocolate mint Gu, and Daylight Savings Time sunshine this morning.

On a related note, just like I have opposite body dysmorphic disorder and think I’m skinnier and hotter than I am, I also have an unrealistic perception of my relative speed. Which means I emailed IMan after my long run (average pace: 8:02) and told him “I’m probably going to win Boston next year. Just FYI.”

Dilemmas of the Distance Runner

2011-11-07T20:46:00.000-05:00

Despite the fact that my racing season is "over," I keep threatening to do this 60k I've mentioned once or twice or 37 times since the thought crossed my mind about a month ago. And until I decide for sure, which will be the morning of the race, it has also occurred to me that I better do some actual distance running if I don't want my first ultra to be my first DNF (though I know you were all highly impressed by that 4 and a half mile run I logged on Saturday. Did I mention it was hilly, and I was sore?). Which is why, despite the fact that my "A" race has already come and gone this Fall, I'm running long tomorrow. 17 miles long, to be exact. On a Tuesday. Before work.

That's more psycho than usual.

Which got me thinking: what the hell is wrong with us, as runners?

And also: how will I enjoy the traditional post-long run beer if I'm at my desk?

And most important: if I run the Knickerbocker, what will happen to my "I Don't Do Ultramarathons; I Do An Ultramarathoner" shirt?

These are serious problems, people.

Monday Wrap Up: I See Your Marathon, and Raise You A Mountain

2011-11-07T11:12:00.001-05:00

Maybe this is a bad time, since a lot of you probably ran the New York City Marathon yesterday, but I am REALLY sore from my 4 mile trail “run” on Saturday.

They don’t call it Bear Mountain because it’s flat. And you’ll note that I put “run” in quotes and didn’t share with you the pace chart. Unless a 26 minute second mile is considered “running,” I don’t think I’m going to be the next Scott Jurek .

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 36. Even though I said I would aim to run between 20 and 30 miles a week in the months leading up to the start of spring-season training, I also said I might maybe run a 37 mile race in 2 weeks, so last week I bumped up the distance a bit. To a mile less over the course of a week than what I’m considering running over the course of a morning…

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 10.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: After we got back from Bear Mountain and got ready for the night, I asked IMan if he would bring me a beer to drink while I was blowdrying my hair (because I am efficient!). He had a fridge full of Miller Lights, but brought me a Paulaner. “I’ve never heard of this, but I brought it for you because you’re a beer snob.” I had some Miller Lights after that. And possibly played Flip Cup, which I don’t think I’ve done since college. Just like riding a bike.

I'm also proud to report that I'm keeping the cross training streak alive, having not only managed a quick yoga class on Saturday morning, but a glass of red wine last night as well.

To all my NYCM friends: congrats on a great day yesterday! I look forward to toasting your success. Perhaps with a beer run on December 3rd? Let me know!

Just Checking In

2011-11-05T08:24:00.001-04:00

So my Internet is still wonky, but here's a quick update from the teeny keys of my iPad. Maybe the next time I have real Internet access I should look into investing in a Bluetooth keyboard for this bad boy, since all I'm using my actual laptop for these days is playing Snood. Col-LEGE! Anyway, the updates:

1. Beer Run info is posted here! Go there. Read it. Attend. And do email me if you're planning on coming, since I'll be sending out email updates as the date approaches.

2. The NYC Marathon is tomorrow! I could spew some feel-good "I'm totally selfless and excited for you guysssss" stuff, but mostly I'm just jealous because I think of marathoning as "my thing," and tomorrow, 45,000 people will be copying me. But fine, I guess I'll let you guys have your day, too. NYCM is my favorite marathon experience, though, so don't talk shit about it when you're done or anything. Here is what I had to say about it after I ran last year.

3. While I may be jealous, I'll still be hopping around this weekend supporting all my marathoning friends, because y'all do it for me when I'm running, so I'd feel guilty watching Say Yes To The Dress in my apartment while you're out dragging your butt through the five boroughs. Also I'm pretty sure at this point I've seen every episode. Look for me first at The DailyMile brunch today (I'll be one drinking), then tomorrow on 4th and Union on the right side in Brooklyn (mile 7.25), and 110th and Fifth on the right side in Manhattan (mile 22.5). Good luck to all my buddies running tomorrow!

Pardon the Interruption

2011-11-02T21:37:00.001-04:00

...But the internet, for which we pay handsomely and promptly each month, is not working in my apartment. Which means it's kind of a pain in the ass to blog, having only the teeny tiny keys of the iPad, through which I must express my many deep and profound thoughts. I could certainly blog from my office (after business hours, of course) but the thing about writing a blog about beer drinking is that it's hard to do any relevant "research" at the office and remain gainfully employed. So despite the fact that it's now two days post-Halloween, and I have a fridge full of themed beers to drink and write about, I can't do that for you tonight. The teeny tiny keys are even harder to operate when drunk.

I don't mean to be rubbing it in, but you're actually missing out on a lot of awesome stuff because of this technological snafu. For instance, today I ran home from work, which was really quite awesome and enjoyable, and at 12 miles, the longest run I've done since Smuttynose a month ago. And it was only 25 miles fewer than the Knickerbocker 60k! So, yeah...

Other awesome stuff includes the map of the next "We'll Run For Beer," which I completed earlier this week. I'll get information up on the Beer Runs page as soon as I... have the internet. God, this is seriously crippling. Anyway, trust that it'll be awesome, mark your calendars for Saturday, 12/3 at noon, and shoot me an email at willrunforbeerblog@gmail.com to let me know you're in.

Have fun in the 21st century. I'm going to make soap or whatever people did before the internet. I would look it up, actually, but as I may have mentioned, I don't have the internet.

Monday Wrap Up: I Missed My Chance

2011-10-31T21:12:00.001-04:00

You probably don't know about this, since no one tweeted/blogged/Facebooked about it, but ZOMG you guysssss it snowed in New York this weekend!

That's actually snow in Connecticut, where I went this weekend because I love ~~free laundry~~ my parents and boyfriend. But it was the same in NYC, only with more rats and people occupying Wall Street.

I don't mean to get all "when I was your age" on you people, but I spent 4 years in college in Maine, where we'd routinely see flakes in October, so relax about this "freak Snowtober!!!!!!" stuff, people.

That said, my tenure in cold and snowy Maine meant that I missed out on dressing as a Sexy Something or the Other for Halloween at a time in my life/physical build/daily level of intoxication of myself and those around me that it was marginally acceptable to do so (One year I missed out on Halloween altogether, having spent my Junior year studying in South Africa, where I'm pretty sure if I'd worn a mask and gone door to door asking people to give me their food, I would have been shot). Alas, my plans to be a Slutty Lobster (okay, I was just going as a lobster, but IMan suggested I made some alterations to my costume) were foiled again this year. Between the snow and my second cold of the month, I spent much of my Halloween weekend doped up on Nyquil.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 22. I had hoped to get in at least 13 as a longer run this weekend, but between the weather and my illness (and the drugs), the longest I managed was 7.3. Not sure where that puts me in relation to the Knickerbocker 60k, which is in 3 weekends. If I'm entertaining it as a possibility, I need to do something substantial this weekend. Beyond eat candy corn at post-Halloween sale prices.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 6. The illness put a damper on my beer drinking whilst football watching yesterday.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: I had a few Long Trail Brown Ales this weekend, but honestly couldn't even taste them given my congestion and the cough drop permanently lodged in my gullet for the last 3 days. But I should get credit for trying.

So, the running and the beer drinking were both pretty weak last week. I've already addressed what I'd like to accomplish, running-wise, this week. And as for the beers, come back tomorrow for the promised Halloween-themed beer tasting! Maybe I'll even wear my Slutty Lobster costume.

P.S. I can't not mention that my sister got engaged on Saturday. I love love, and my sister, and my new brother to be! And, for the record, she was dressed as a non-slutty Zombie Pumpkin.

Come On, Man

2011-10-28T07:44:00.001-04:00

It was 37 degrees this morning and the sun wasn't up until I was fully 3 miles into my run. As they say on Monday nights, "Come on, Man!"

On the plus side, the cold weather did provide impetus for indulging in seasonally-relevant treats last night, including bacon-wrapped dates and mulled wine.

Is there any season where the relevant treats coincide with things that will actually make me a better runner and not a hungover fat ass? No? Come on, Man!

Happy Friday, kids.

A PSA From WRFB

2011-10-26T20:53:00.001-04:00

It's the end of October, kids! Not only does that mean my Halloween dreams of being a lobster are close to being realized (assuming my claws ship on time; they may not be delivered until Tuesday, which would mean I'd have to resort to being something I can make out of the gear in my closet, like... A runner), but it means that winter running is fast approaching.

Even if it's not exactly cold yet (still in shorts and a tank as of today, though snow is in the 5 day forecast for NYC), it definitely is pretty dark. And it's only going to get darker for the next 2 months. As we've read 430,000 times, a runner should wear reflective gear in times of low visibility. Like 8pm in late October. And yet, tonight on my run I was the only runner in Prospect Park wearing a reflective vest.

People, are you stupid? It's nighttime. Unless you're conducting special ops by the Prichard Square playground, you're gonna wanna be more visible. Put on a reflective vest! And maybe don't wear the 2010 NYC Marathon shirt, which is a color that can best be described as "8pm in late October grey."

Yes, Prospect Park is well lit. And yes, Prospect Park is closed to most cars in the early mornings and late evenings. But do you live in Prospect Park? If so, you probably should have thought of that before you shelled out $300 for a Garmin. I didn't realize the homeless valued GPS over, say, a bed that wasn't a bench. But if not, you're going to have to run on roads, open to cars, to get to and from your apartment. Those cars can't see you in your grey shirt.

Also, Prospect Park is very much open to bikers, who are going just as fast as cars. Do you know how badly you'd get jacked up if you were hit by a bike going 40 mph? Furthermore, do you know how pissed the biker who hit you would be? Bikers are uniformly dicks and think they have the right of way at all times. If they nailed you and your monster runner quads totaled their carbon frame, which costs more than 6 months of my rent, do you have any idea what would happen to you? You'll wish you had been killed.

(No seriously. Bikers are dicks.)

Lastly, people who step out of the shadows dressed in all black are rapist-murders. Don't be like them.

Runners of Brooklyn: put on your reflective vests. They are cheap. They are lightweight. You won't even notice you're wearing it. Some even have flashy red lights! It's like a nightclub - but without music or alcohol. So, it's not like a nightclub. Whatever.

(That's a note from my mom, which says "Treat yourself to a spinning class!" and came with $30. It may mean my mom thinks I'm a fatty, but I went to spinning last night anyway. Then ate leftover Chinese food. The best of both worlds).

So get one and put one on. That way I'll know who's in the Park for exercise and who's there as a rapist-murder.

Thanks for your attention. You may now return to your regularly scheduled Wednesday evening intoxicants.

Sunday Wrap Up: I'm Not Proud

2011-10-23T17:09:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gentlemen, last night I was overserved. And, much as I like beer (and hyperbole), I don't actually achieve this level overserved often (thank God). I'm not talking just "wheee I feel funny!" overserved. Not just "where is the nearest diner? I don't care that it's 2:00am" overserved. Not even "please God, make it stop spinning" overserved. Last night, I was "on my knees in front of the toilet" overserved.

I'm not proud of this fact. And while I'd like to claim that I got sick from "a bad glass of champagne," I'm pretty sure it was 4 perfectly fine glasses of champagne, on top of 5 also just fine beers, that did me in. Okay, and pizza possibly put me over the edge.

Anyway, I tell you all this for several reasons. 1. Champagne hangovers are truly the most unpleasant type of hangovers, and I consider myself to be something of an expert in this field. I swear to you, I thought I was having a seizure this morning because it didn't seem possible for a normal, healthy, functioning brain to feel as badly as mine did. 2. Throwing up is just as bad as it was in college. And as an adult, you don't even have 3 other also vomiting girls to keep you company in the bathroom. If you ever take any advice from me, let it be this: don't drink yourself sick. 3. I believe in the medicinal qualities of black coffee and fresh air.

Once I finally got myself out of bed, with the help of approximately 300 Advil, I slapped on a pair of sunglasses and shoes headed straight for the coffee shop. No bacon, egg, and cheeses could cure what ailed me today. I needed copious amounts of coffee.

It was actually a gorgeous morning (okay, fine, it was afternoon by the time I finally made it outside...) and I decided then and there that, if I survived this hangover, I was going to celebrate with a run. So I downed the coffee, took care of a couple of errands, took a deep breath full of fall air in, and determined I would, in fact, live through this.

I ended up covering 11 miles - my first double digit run since the marathon 3 weeks ago - and felt resolutely cured by the time I finished. I am by no means thankful for the horrifying hangover that was the impetus for this run, but it was a nice way to celebrate my survival.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 27. Nice to see I'm continuing to build back mileage after the marathon. I'm aiming to run between 20 and 30 miles per week until Boston training starts. For the record, I am also aiming to throw up zero times per week, but I guess I'll have to work towards that goal next week...

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: I don't think I'm ready to talk about this yet.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: My demise came after a night at the Standard Hotel Biergarten, where I drank whatever medium they were pouring last night (not sure what it was... or what it tasted like...) and the dark they were pouring, which was an Octoberfest (only about a month late...). I've been working through Avery Brewing Company's Ellie's Brown Ale, because I am a sucker for beers with dogs on them, and I've still got a few Copper Bell Lager's in the fridge. Oh God, and I had an Amstel Light (?!) when we sat down to pizza at 12:30am. Because that was necessary...

In the grand tradition of being a functioning member of society, I'm now going to shower and clean my apartment. And not throw up on anything. I advise you to do the same.

Pilates Bodies

2011-10-20T22:07:00.001-04:00

Remember when I said I was going to do cross training and core work and you were all “yeah right; you’re going to get drunk and eat cheese?” Well, I did get drunk and eat cheese. But! I also did core work on my own accord one morning this week after my run! Planks and crunches! And not only that, but today I went to Pilates. Which I’m pretty sure, despite my limited knowledge of exercises that aren’t running, rhymes with “bodies,” which is why that’s the title of this post. If it doesn’t rhyme, then this post is actually just called “Pilates.” Pee-layts.

Anyway, you know I was committed to Pee-layts because I went to the NYSC at 36th and Madison, which is neither near my office nor my apartment, to attend tonight. Okay. That’s not a sign of my commitment so much as it is a sign that I didn’t want to run into anyone I knew during my first foray into an exercise which is described as follows:

Developed over seventy years ago by Joseph H. Pilates, the focus of this discipline is to strengthen and stretch the abdomen and torso by solely using the body. Technique involves proper breathing and control over various muscles

Abdomen and torso? Never heard of ‘em. Proper breathing? Well it seems that everytime I do yoga, I am exhaling at precisely the same time the instructor wants me to be inhaling. And control over various muscles? Um, do Kegels count?

I got to the gym a little early and, seeing that the NYSC at 36th and Madison has about 400 treadmills - though each is in some state of disrepair - decided to do a quick 2 miles on the mill to kill time. Then I also decided to take a picture of myself, showing my apprehension ahead of this so-called Pee-layts.

What I should have done was leave (and not just because the picture is actually horrifying).

(That was subtle foreshadowing. Its a hallmark of my writing style, really).

At the appointed hour, I made my way into the designated studio. I pretended to have very important business to attend to on my phone until a few people arrived and set up their mats before me. Having never done pilates before, I needed to take cues from others about what equipment I needed (just a mat) and what direction I should face (whichever way I wanted, as the room was L shaped and people oriented their mats in all directions). And no, I wasn't about to ask for help.

The instructor - who was the epitome of "cute as a button" and looked as though she weighed about as much as one - asked if everyone had done pilates before, and I just mumbled some noises that sounded like agreement. Immediately I realized "that was dumb; you have no one to impress, plus what if this is impossible and it becomes obvious you have no idea what you're doing?" But then I thought "people always group yoga and pilates together, and I've done enough yoga in my day to look like I know what I'm doing; how different can this be?"

Very.

Very, very different.

In fact, the only similarities are the mats.

And the fact that, just as in yoga, I was breathing exactly opposite the way I was meant to be breathing.

As it turns out, pilates is indeed about the abdomen and torso. And nothing else. Just 55 minutes of teeny tiny movements designed to strengthen your core. Except that my core is made of beers and cheese, and those things can't get stronger, so instead my body compensated by working my back, neck, and other non-abdominal parts. Like, you know when you are leaning back using your abs and you look down and your stomach is shaped like a loaf of bread?

That was me, for 55 minutes.

The button instructor was actually really friendly and non-judgmental and struck a good balance of correcting my form and leaving me alone to suffer in silence. The class was a mixture of 20-something babes and older women, none of whom were housing a bakery in the midsection. And me. The moves were all straightforward enough: lots of planks, V sits, s-l-o-w-l-y rolling down onto your back and then back up to a seated position. Basically, all the core exercises you've heard of or seen on an infomercial when you've been too hungover to change the channel. It's hard to say whether or not everyone else found this class hard too, because I was too busy looking at my own form (and bread loaf) to pay attention to other people. Judging by the heavy breathing and "oh God!"s that went around the room towards the end of class, I'm inclined to think I'm not the only one who's abs are more "of mashed potatoes" than "of steel." But it is truly astonishing to me that my legs can carry me over 26.2 miles of hills, and yet my abs can't allow me to hold a 15 degree recline for longer than 11 seconds.

So, final verdict? That was hard. Not "I'm pouring sweat" hard, which was confusing to me, as that's the only kind of hard I know, but "I am experiencing full-body spasms in public" hard. But I really think I needed that. In the 2 times I've done concerted work on my core in the last two weeks, it took approximately 4 minutes total. If I don't have someone telling me to do it for 55 minutes, there is just no way I'm going to make myself. Unless it's running, it is very difficult for me to find the motivation to dedicate myself to a specific work out. You may say I have no self-discipline. I say you're a virgin who can't drive. Either way, I think my running and my midsection could improve if only I could make a consistent effort with core work.

And with that, I feel like having some toast...

In The Papers

2011-10-19T15:44:00.005-04:00

Every morning, local broadcast network NY1, which I sometimes accidentally watch if I’ve turned off the whole cable box and not just the TV when I go to sleep, does a segment called "In The Papers," where they do a quick recap of what is written in the local papers for those viewers too lazy to read an actual newspaper or even enter the 11 keystrokes required to visit nytimes.com online (you could even save a whole keystroke by visiting nypost.com instead). Because it’s a local broadcast, the "In The Papers" segment recaps crappylocal papers, including (my beloved) the New York Post, the Daily News, the New York Observer, and USA Today. In their defense, they also review the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times, but I mute those sections because I don’t want to know any spoilers when I actually do sit down on the train to read the newspapers (I only read the Times. I mute the WSJ section because business news is boring. You can Occupy That!).

Anyway, I figured there are plenty of you out there who are also too lazy to bother looking up running and/or beer related news on your own, so I might as well do it for you. This won’t so much be a regular feature, as I am also too lazy to read running and/or beer news every day, but from time to time as cool things crop up, I’ll let you know about them. Deal? Great, let’s get started.

First up: My friends at Draft Magazine compiled a list of beer and/or running apps for the iPhone and Droid (or, if you want a Windows phone app, I happen to know just the bearded fellow to create one for you). They are a mix of location based mapping tools for endurance sports and finding a drink, workout logs, beer rating tools, and social networking apps. I only personally use one (Electric Miles, the iOS complement to Daily Mile), but people have been suggesting Untappd to me for months and perhaps it’s time for me to bite the bullet. The full article is here.

Next: An article in the Health Section of the Times reports on a study that suggests we all may have a “set point” for exercise. Basically some British kids got tired or something after they had to go to gym class, so it meant they didn’t move around after school nearly as much as kids who didn’t kick ass at dodgeball during the school day. So at the end of the day, the gym class heroes had done the same amount of physical activity as the chess club kids (disclaimer: I am not a scientist. Or that skilled at reading comprehension…). This would, of course, suck for me. Instead of running marathons for 3 hours and 24 minutes, I could just stay at home watching TV, but according to this study, I’d get up to walk to the fridge for a snack or a beer, or just move around in my chair enough to for it to constitute the same amount of movement. This study was based on movement, not energy expended. That makes no sense; what if I happen to be a very smooth and efficient runner? What if I happen to have a seizure disorder? This is the dumbest. (Further disclaimer: I can’t believe the people who conducted this study are scientists either). But if you want to read more, it’s here.
Third: City Running Tours is offering a beer-and-running tour of Brooklyn on November 12th. You can register here. But fair warning: it costs $30, which is precisely $30 more than what it will cost you to participate in the Third Edition of “We’ll Run For Beer,” which is happening three weeks later.

And lastly: Every Tuesday, Deadspin contributor (and Colby alum) Drew Magary answers questions or reflects upon the musings of those who write in to his Mailbag . Yesterday, a particularly poignant thought was posted:

Matt:

Ever fart on the treadmill or at the gym with headphones in? Absolutely terrifying since you have zero idea how loud it really was. It is truly the "most dangerous game".

No, you're looking at it all wrong. If YOU didn't hear it, then clearly no one else did. You can just blissfully assume you got away with it and keep on exercising. Meanwhile, around you? DEATH AND DESTRUCTION.

I’m not suggesting I spend my treadmill runs ripping ass and then praying no one notices, but… I’m not not suggesting it either…

And that’s your beer-and-running round up for today, kids. I expect to be replacing Pat Tiernan on NY1 any day now. Who’s morning doesn’t need some fart jokes?

Sunday Wrap Up: I Love You, Weekend. Don't Ever Change.

2011-10-16T21:12:00.001-04:00

This weekend was sort of perfect: cool and sunny weather made outdoor running, wedding attending, football watching, and beer drinking all ideal activities. Scratch that long list of Running-Related Things To Which I (Was) Looking Forward; I want it to be mid-October forever!

Number of Miles Run This Week: 20. Respectable. I hit the 'mill a few times this week after work. I'm actually looking forward to daylight savings so it'll be a little brighter in the mornings.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 14. Also respectable.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: The Founders I mentioned earlier this week, a few cans of Copper Bell Lager, which I found in cans at Whole Foods, and which might be Bud Light packaged in hipster cans labeled "organic," Sawtooth IPA, which was served at the wedding I went to on Saturday night, and props to couples who serve good beer at their weddings, and some tailgating beers (Miller Light/Sam Adams Light) today at the Giants game.

Number of Times I Deliberately Cross-Trained This Week: 2. It's an October miracle!

Number of Times I Deliberately Did Core Work This Week: 1. That makes a total of 1 time I've done core work since I took the Presidential Physical Fitness Test in 5th Grade. And to address the inevitable next question (Abbe), no I did not also do the sit-and-reach. Maybe next week.

Number of Awesome Foods Eaten This Weekend: 4 - A really delicious turkey sandwich after my run yesterday that was so good it's getting a shout out on my blog, Indian food at the wedding, and props to couples who serve Indian food at their weddings, my Mom's homemade chili at the Giants game today, and cupcakes my dad made for his own birthday.

Number of Days I Slept in the Weekend: 0. Woke up at 6:30 this morning, after a wedding, to meet my parents for the game. Running and the Giants are the only reasons to wake up early on the weekends. Uh, I mean, running and your father's birthday. Totally why I woke up today. Totally.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm staging a protest up here in Connecticut for the evening. Occupy Whatever Space My Parents' Cat is In. She is the 99%.*

*I have no idea what that means.

Now What?

2011-10-13T21:43:00.001-04:00

After every marathon and every milestone, I feel fully entitled to have people fawn over me for a certain amount of time. Unfortunately, my designated allotment of time doesn’t always jive with that of the very people I expect to be fawning over me. For example, while I was sitting down to a feast at the Cracker Barrel (holy God, why did I waste the first 27 years of my life not eating at the Cracker Barrel?!) just a few short hours after the Smuttynose Marathon, rehashing the race over a plate of biscuits, my pal Cate texted me. “Congrats friend!! So what’s the next goal?” Can I never please you, woman?!

While the 2 hour mark was a little soon for me to be thinking about next goals (I texted Cate back: “Goal is to get stinking drunk.”), nearly two weeks have gone by, and I’m starting to get a little itchy (well, maybe that’s from sitting on a bike seat in sweaty shorts for 45 minutes on Tuesday). I need something running-related to look forward to. Getting to watch the Chicago Marathon on a gorgeous day (and not having to run it) was a good start. But that has already come and gone. And my little trip to the gym tonight wasn't really something I was looking forward to (though my trip to the beer store afterward was). And so I present to you Running-Related Things To Which I Am Looking Forward:

1. A Beer Run. You got it, kids. The “We’ll Run For Beer” series is back again later in 2011. I’m looking at the first Saturday in December (12/3), which I know seems both far away and cold, but a) October is halfway done and I need a little lead time to map a route and work with the bars, b) Every weekend in November has some conflict, including NYC Marathon, my Mom’s birthday, the Knickerbocker 60K (more on that below…), and Thanksgiving (favorite holiday ever), and c) according to the historical documentation that is my own blog, it wasn’t cold and blizzard-y until late December last year, and in 2009, it was rather cold but not blizzard-y the first weekend in December. Do you own a pair of sweatpants and a jacket? Great, then you’re prepared for a beer run in early December. Save the date, and if you aren’t already on my email list from past beer run events, drop me a line at willrunforbeerblog at gmail dot com to tell me you want the info when it’s available. Or, take to the comments, if you don’t mind every weirdo on the internet having access to your email address.

2. The Knickerbocker 60k. So. I’ve never done an ultra before. In fact, I even made a T-shirt that said “I don’t do Ultramarathons, I do an Ultramarathoner.”

Then I accidentally put this shirt in the laundry at my parents' house, and my dad did my laundry and he wept for his hooker-daughter.

But I’ve been tempted to tackle an ultra. And as it turns out, there is one right here in Gotham City each November. The Knickerbocker 60k is 9 loops around an abbreviated Central Park loop, for a total of 37 miles. That sounds sort of… fatally boring. Remember that time I did a 20 mile run in Prospect Park? I don’t, because it was traumatizing and I therefore repressed that memory. But as ultras go, the Knickerbocker seems like a decent entrée to that whole scene: it’s local, it’s all on roads, it’s cheap, and it’s close to bars. Abbe even volunteered to hand me a beer after each loop! Plus, I have a good mileage and fitness base right now, so if ever there were a time for me to tackle 37 miles, it would be now, when I’ve just recently tackled 26 miles. I’m not committing to it just yet (another beauty being that I can wait until I know what the weather on 11/20 will reasonably be before I register), but it is an idea I’ve been kicking around. If you’ve run the Knickerbocker, or have a first-time ultra experience to share, take to the comments!

3. Cross training. Okay, so I know I’ve gone to precisely 1 spinning class, but without a running training plan for the next twelve weeks (more on that next), I actually have the time and flexibility to try other activities. Am I threatening to become a triathlete? Absolutely not, unless my arsenal of J.Crew bikinis can double as race gear. But would I give cardio kickboxing/urban rebounding/trapeze/an actual sit up a shot? Why not? Got a class or workout to recommend? Take to the comments!

4. Boston. Yes, I’ve got quite a while before training even starts for Boston (the first day of training is 12/27 – it’s a Christmas present to myself! Because I’m a total loser…), but I’m already starting to think about what that training will look like. I’ve used the Training Peaks’ Runner’s World Marathon Training Plan for Intermediate Runners for my last 3 target races, and ran PRs and BQs in each of them. Part of me thinks “if it ain’t broke…” But part of me is interested in what else is out there. That's the same part of me who is sick of typing put so many words just to reference the name of her training plan. Runner’s World offers a Boston-specific training plan (interestingly enough, it’s 25 miles less overall than the intermediate plan, and $10 more expensive… so maybe I’m not that interested in it…). Had a good (or bad) experience with a specific plan? Take to the comments!

5. Halloween. This has nothing to do with running, but I’m going to be a lobster for Halloween and I’m very excited about it. I don’t actually have any Halloween plans, but that doesn’t mean I won’t still dress up and sit on the couch watching TV and drinking a beer in a lobster costume. Actually, I may have to stand, because the costume I plan to craft involves plastic plates as a crucial element in my lobster tail, and I think they’ll crack if I sit on them.

Also, I’m going to carve a pumpkin, and it will have a beard.

This is all actually relevant to this beer blog, because I've also already been stock piling some resources for a Halloween themed brew review. Suggestions for beers I should include? Take to the comments!

I also stock piled some Founders Centennial IPA, but that stock pile is dwindling somewhat on account of the fact that I decided to have Founders Centennial IPA for dinner.

This? Is a good beer. Also, it left a condensation mark on that table, which I wiped up with the above pictured T-shirt. Efficiency at it's finest!

Anything else I should be looking forward to? Take to the comments!

On Spinning, Revisited

2011-10-11T23:08:00.001-04:00

As you've probably gathered by this point in our relationship, dear reader, I don't always follow the recommended guidelines for cross training. Which are: do some. Where as I? Do none. Maybe a bedroom yoga session (not that kind; IMan isn't very flexible anyway) every now and then. A couple of hikes through the warmer months. Some downhill skiing when I can get a weekend away (also known as: when my Dad is looking for a ski partner and is footing the bill). But the whole lifting/elliptical/biking/any type of core work ever thing? Not on my watch.

On Train's watch, though? A different story.

You remember my friend, Train. She tricked me into going to Bikram yoga, where we spent 90 minutes being yelled at by a grown man in a Speedo and praying heatstroke wouldn't be a painful way to go. Train is great about cross training. If a gym in New York offers a class, Train has tried it. But even better, she's stuck with it. Train actually went back to Bruce the Torturer and his too-small briefs after that first foray into Bikram. Total Body Conditioning? At this point, Train might as well teach it. Pilates Reformer? Train uses that contraption in place of a bed in her apartment. (Maybe she knows more flexible fellows...)

Lately, Train has become something of a spinning guru. If you've been reading this blog for awhile (hi, Mom!), you may recall that I'm not that into spinning. In fact, I may have waged a public campaign against it. But Train is a passionate advocate for SoulCycle, and her invitation to join her for a class at the first timer's rate of 20 bucks, including shoe rental, came at precisely a time when I was 1) done with marathon training for the season, 2) unbuttoning my ever-tightening jeans in between handfuls of candy corn, and 3) not infected with the plague. So last week, I RSVPed to join her for Nick's 7:30pm Tuesday class at SoulCycle.

As I mentioned yesterday, I caught diphtheria or dysentery or diverticulitis (pretty sure I've actually be vaccinated against the first two, and the third may be a birth defect and not something you can catch...) over the weekend. I went for a run to try to sweat out some toxins when I got home yesterday afternoon, but by today, I was contemplating an early departure from work (no such luck). But an RSVP is an RSVP, so I did my best Lance Armstrong (minus the HGH or whatever) and geared up in all my spandex glory after work. I even tweeted about my impending date with a spin bike:

willrunforbeer: On my way to SoulCycle, which I'm pretty sure will kill me.

Lo and behold, SoulCycle tweeted back!

SoulCycle: @willrunforbeer No way -- if you run marathons and drink beers, you'll fit right in! :)

Love.

I rolled up to the Upper East Side studio approaching panic mode and found a fancy, schmancy, all-white reception area with a jar of ponytail holders and packs of gum and tissues and hand sanitizer all for the taking. Also, ear plugs. Concerning.

The lovely SoulCyclers were super friendly and not at all judgey about my spinning virginity. They hooked me up with spin shoes (required for the class; they're the clip in kind, which are both terrifyingly hardcore in appearance and make you feel like a badass) and volunteered to set up my bike for me. I awkwardly almost wiped out in my spin shoes as I skated back to Train's waiting arms to chill until class began. Note to spin newbies: walk on your heels, not on the balls of your feet.

The doors opened to a booming bass line as the class ahead of us let out and the SoulCyclers went in to clean everything off. Train and I had reserved bikes next to each other, towards the back, in a corner; thank God for Train's SoulCycling experience or I would have awkwardly been, like, on the stage in the front. The SoulCycler fitted me for my bike (seat should be hip high; handlebars should be as far away from the front of the seat as the length of your forearm, elbow to fingertip), taught me how to clip in and clip out (and assured me if I couldn't get out at the end, I could just take my feet out and leave the shoes clipped right in and they'd deal with it for me), and explained the positions and terminology: first position meant hands together in the middle of the bars; second was hands wide, and third was hands up high. Here is a diagram I made:

So easy you don't even need opposable thumbs to do it! Actually you do; I just can't really draw.

Train helped me set up my water and towel for easy access and showed me my hand weights. Oh I'm sorry, hand weights? I thought this was spinning? Like, with the legs? "Don't worry; they're just 2 pounds."

Foreshadowing...

So, I'm on, I'm clipped, I'm ready. Let's ride. The music starts bumping and Nick the instructor tells us to ride. It's largely straight forward. To everyone but me, who didn't understand that you aren't supposed to just ride as fast as possible from the outset, nor that the beat was relevant to what your body was meant to be doing. So I started sprinting away, proud of myself because the only muscle groups I ever work are the big ones in my legumes (calf raises? Who needs calf raises?). Nick then tells us to lean our butts and bodies back, so that our torsos are basically parallel to the bike, and then straighten up again. Here is another diagram:

That actually came out a lot better than I expected... Minus the arm situation happening in the second depiction... And that's my tongue hanging out of my mouth. 2 minutes into class.

Anyway, so Nick was telling us to pulse back and forth between these two positions, neither of which involved our butts touching the seats. Everyone else seemed to manage this just fine. I, however, was pedaling maniacally like some possessed Wizard of Oz extra. My legs were moving so fast that they had no ability to sustain any weight. So, when I tried to pulse back, my right foot became unclipped, flew out to my side, was smacked and dragged by the pedal as it continued to turn at 748 RPM, and ended up wedged in between the seat adjustment knob and the bike frame.

Holy shit, who breaks their ankle in spin class? Was that even possible?

No. Or at least I hadn't managed it yet. I looked over at Train, who graciously pretended she hadn't noticed I'd nearly taken down our whole row of bikes, and clipped back in.

Once I figured out that these crazy maneuvers were possible if my legs moved in time with the rest of my body, things got a little easier. Which is not to say I wasn't absolutely pouring with sweat. But unlike so many other fitness classes I've tried, there were no individual moves I couldn't do. It was more the culmination of moves that left me shaking. My legs were pretty strong throughout, but, as it turns out, spinning is a full body workout. We did bicep and tricep work, pressing and dipping and leaning in various positions on our handle bars. We did core work, contracting from one side to the other (almost fell off the bike again while that was going on). And then came the free weights. For about ten minutes at the end of class, our legs kept pedaling while we did arm and shoulder work with 2 pound weights. Trust me: after 40 minutes of supporting your body on your arms over a flimsy set of handlebars, 2 pounds feels like 57. THOUSAND.

For a 45 minute workout, the class seemed to fly by. The music was great (and not so loud you needed ear plugs), and Nick the instructor was super nice and motivating, and didn't make you feel lame if you accidentally crushed your own limbs in the mechanisms of your bike. Also, at no point did my crotch hurt (likely because there was very little actually sitting in the saddle; most of the class was standing/squatting/leaning/hovering). And I can't say enough about how much more inclined I am to go to a class if I know I can actually accomplish all of the moves without collapsing or crashing into my fellow participants during some kick-ball-change sequence. Hell, the only reason I've stuck with running so long is because who can't run? Best of all, I came out of the class totally pumped up (emotionally speaking. I don't think the results of all that arm work are quite so immediate) and plum forgot I even had a cold. I was awkwardly shouting at Train as we walked to the subway: THAT WAS FUN, I LOVE SPINNING, YAY THANK YOU, GLORIOUS HOORAY!

The quick and dirty: SoulCycle was awesome, and that means a lot coming from someone who thinks cross training means drinking oatmeal chocolate stout in the summer. First timers can ride for $20, including shoe rental. Subsequent classes are $32 a piece, plus $2 for shoes. The studio I went to was the 83rd and Third location, and the instructor was Nick, but there are several other studios throughout the city, and in the Hamptons and Westchester. Celebs are also pretty into SoulCycle if Us Weekly is any indication ("Stars: They're just like us!"), though I didn't see any last night.

Source.

But go see for yourself. Tell them my friend Train sent you.

Monday Wrap Up: Precipitous Decline

2011-10-10T18:27:00.001-04:00

My health is dwindling: since sometime Saturday, I've suffered from a sore throat, headaches, sniffles, sweats, loss of appetite and lethargy. Sleeping the entire flight home from Chicago was awesome. Sleeping the entirety of Sunday afternoon while visiting friends was less cool.

My command of restraint is also on the decline, as evidenced by the breakfast of bacon-chocolate chip pancakes, followed by the lunch of chili cheese fries, yesterday (the loss of appetite thing didn't really start until today. Obviously).

Worst of all, my discerning taste for good beer is all but gone. I drank from a 30 rack of Busch Light this weekend.

And I'm the one who purchased it.

I appear to be in a perilous free fall on all fronts.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 11. "Whoaaa, take it easy, champ. 11 whole miles?! Damn, you're a machine." I'm actually cutting myself some slack for last week, given that my marathon was only 8 days ago. And I even managed to get a run in while I was on vacation in Chicago. I only did it because I like running through the zoo. Whatever gets you going, amirite?

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: Way more than 11...

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: DayQuil has really hindered ye olde thought process (or maybe it's the 3 different times I slammed my head on things on Saturday night. Two of those "things" were Nina...), if you couldn't tell from reading this, the worst blog post ever, so I don't really know what I drank this week. A Guinness in the LaGuardia airport bar (Abbe made me do it). 2 of Schlafy's APA in the St. Louis airport bar. A Smithwick's Sunday before I realized I was dying of the plague. A bunch of Blue Moons for my first post-marathon foray back into the NYC bar scene. And about a trillion Busch Lights, because apparently Chicago is College 2.0 and I'm 19 again. Minus the tolerance. And the over-plucked eyebrows. I was going through a phase...

Someday, when I'm a fully functioning human and have command of the English language and the Internet once again, I'll provide you with an adequate recap of my time in Chicago, including marathon spectating and Big Ten tailgating. I'll also tell you all about what I'm up to now that the post-marathon glow is fading. Those beers (and chili cheese fries) aren't gonna burn themselves off, you know...

Anyway, send healing vibes. I may be a wuss, but having a cold is pretty much debilitating.

In Which I Interview Myself

2011-10-07T19:29:00.001-04:00

... Or did I just blow your mind?

Where am I?
The airport bar in scenic St. Louis, MO

Why?
Because I wanted a beer, duh (Schafly Dry Hopped APA)

But seriously, why?
Because I'm going to Chicago this weekend.

What for?
Lots of good stuff, including (but not limited to) watching football, drinking beer, seeing friends, and the Chicago Marathon.

WTF, woman?!
Slow your roll. I'm not running it; just spectating. Though I can't resist running through the Lincoln Park Zoo...

Well how has post-marathon recovery been?
Not too shabby, thanks for asking! After a few days of Frankenstein walking, I managed an hour of yoga on Wednesday and an easy run on Thursday. And I do have my Kinvaras in my bag. Sadly, not on my feet, which was how I managed to pick up that dude in the airport on my way to Michigan earlier this year.

You're creepy. Anyway, are there any other upcoming adventures you wanna spring on us?
Yup. Plenty. But you'll have to wait until my return to the Big Apple to hear about them. My beer is getting warm, and the dude next to me at the bar looks like he wants to start chatting, even though I'm wearing real people shoes... Score! See you next week!

More from Smuttynose

2011-10-04T22:54:00.000-04:00

Ahead of last weekend’s marathon, I reached out to the fine folks at Smuttynose to warn them of my impending arrival and advise them to stock up on beer as necessary. I had the chance to meet Robby Brandolo, National Chain Account Manager, in the beer tent after the marathon, and she was perfectly content despite having stood in the rain all morning long (happiness possibly attributed to the fact that, in her own words she “get[s] to drink on the job.” Not a bad gig). Robby gave us a quick run-down of what they were pouring: Star Island Single, a session beer picked especially for the post-marathon crowd.

Session beers are by definition lower in ABV (less than 5%), which some say makes them a natural ally of the distance runner. I myself prefer a high gravity beer after a marathon, because I think it’s funny to get drunk in places you probably shouldn’t be drunk, such as at the finish line of an endurance event, but that’s just my take… Anyway, Robby explained that they serve Star Island at the races they sponsor because some non-beer drinkers enjoy it as a means to get hydrated. Which is what I’m going to tell people I’m doing when I start drinking beer at my desk…

In any event, Robby also put me in touch with JT Thompson, Minister of Propaganda (that’s his real title) at Smuttynose, who was kind enough to answer some questions I emailed him. I explained in advance I’d be doing a little recap on my blog (actually, I referred to it as “investigative journalism,” told him he couldn’t “handle the truth,” and vowed he’d “never work in this town again” if he didn’t answer), so I’ve copied his responses to my deep and probing (that’s what he said) questions below:

CW: Smuttynose seems to have a strong involvement in the local NH running scene – something we unfortunately don’t see much here in NYC despite having plenty of Brooklyn-made beers. Are these partnerships driven by the brewery – are there runners in your midst? – or by the local races/running groups?

JT, MofP: We've got one runner here, Robby Brondolo and I understand that you met her this weekend. She's done some 5ks that we've been involved in and she's our contact with LOCO Running with whom we partner on the "Will Run For Beer" series. LOCO actually approached us about working together and it's been a great partnership.

CW: New England is blessed with a plethora of craft breweries – how have you been able to carve a niche for yourselves? What do you think sets you apart?

JT, MofP: I think a number of factors allowed us to carve a niche for ourselves going back to our earliest days. Our Founder Peter Egelston had already opened two brewpubs with his sister before opening Smuttynose with another partner, so there was a certain amount of built-in recognition by virtue of Peter being involved.

Secondly, I think that our beer line-up has given us the ability to keep one foot grounded in what we've always done, which is to brew a core line-up of full-flavored, naturally brewed unfiltered beers in the English Ale tradition while the structure of our portfolio has allowed us to experiment and brew more unique or limited beers for seasonal, Big Beer, or Short Batch releases. We launched our Big Beer Series, a series of large format, limited-release beers in 1998, well before anyone else was doing that on a distribution-sized scale. As the craft beer world has changed, we've found ourselves kind of straddling two different craft beer worlds; that of the hard core aficionado that's filled with barrel-aging, obscure ingredients, and perpetual limited releases and the other that's larger and populated by people who like to drink beer with character and flavor but aren't part of the die-hard, vocal minority. This divide allows us to be both edgy, yet accessible.

Our label artwork really helps us stand out as well. We're the only brewery I can think of that uses photography on our labels. The photos we use are shot specifically for the labels; we don't draw from stock images, so each of our year round brands has a very distinctive presentation that stays with people.

CW: We do get Smuttynose here in NYC (Old Brown Dog is features heavily in my rotation. And last year’s S’Muttonator was a doozy, and I mean that in the best way possible), and I see that you have distribution as far south as Florida and as far west as Illinois. What does the craft beer scene look like outside of places like New England or Milwaukee, where it’s really taking off? Are you seeing a lot of growth and interest, or are you distributing mainly to die hard beer fans as opposed to those just beginning to dabble?

JT, MofP: I think the craft beer scene is taking off all around the US. In fact I tend to think of New England as a more mature market for craft beer along with the West Coast and mid-Atlantic. Please understand that these markets still have plenty of growth potential but I think the real booming markets are in the center of the country, places where local beer is still relatively new. I'm not sure who is buying our beer in all our different markets but I do know that I see a very broad range of visitors on our tours; everyone from early 20s Brooklyn hipsters, construction workers from our area and retired couples who used to go on wine tours. Craft beer is an incredibly hot commodity right now and i think we're seeing growth across all different demographics. I don't know of a single craft brewer who is down or even with last year's production and as a market segment, craft beer is the only section of the beer business that's really growing right now.

Very interesting stuff, JT, MofP. I love to hear that the craft beer movement is really taking off nationwide; the whole thinking behind my own beer runs was that I wanted to get people to see how many different, interesting beers are out there, and realize that they really could find a beer for them, even if they aren’t a “beer drinker.” I think Robby’s point in the beer tent, that some people seriously drank the Star Island to rehydrate, underscores this; there is a beer for every purpose.

To Smuttynose’s credit, and echoing JT, MofP’s point about straddling (that’s what she said) the two worlds of craft beer, I think they do a great job of making actually flavorful, balanced beers that do have appeal to the non-hard core minority. Stone, for example, is so focused on super high IBUs and burning your tongue out of your face with bitterness that it sometimes seems like they aren’t even trying to make a balanced beer; it’s all about being a “big beer.” Smuttynose offers big beers (see S’Muttonator… seriously that knocked me on my ass for the evening), but they also offer totally drinkable beers too..

And they like dogs.

In summation, I like Smuttynose beers, and I like the people who work there, and they like runners, and so I suggest you go get youself some Smuttynose stat. (According to craft beer lore, you can order one by saying “Make mine a Smutty.” IMan thinks that’s how you can order girlfriends too. Heyo! Wait did I just call myself a slut? I’m confused…).

Also, I shall heretofore be known as Claire, Minister of Badass MoFo Marathoning Times. C, MofBAMFMT. That should definitely be easier than writing out all 6 letters of my name. You're welcome.

Race Report: Smuttynose Hampton Rockfest Marathon

2011-10-03T16:48:00.001-04:00

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Claire who was running her 12th Marathon - her 5th in 12 months. Though she trained diligently, she was always left feeling that she could have done more, which undermined her confidence. As she approached the big day of the race, she looked back at her training for past marathons, and she was scared. For example, she had run 227 miles in the month before the Boston Marathon - her fastest to date. Conversely, she had only run 165 in the month before her 12th. She was very much doubtful that she could run another PR. If she's being totally honest, she was looking for an excuse not to.

But she traveled to Hampton, NH anyway, because it was said to be a fast marathon course. She picked up her bib and she drove the course and she thought, "this doesn't seem like a very fast marathon course after all..." There we so many twists, turns, and out-and-backs that she was sure she would be accumulating extra mileage here and there, not taking turns tight enough, not running tangents, and she did not like her odds of having a fast race. She wished she had not publicly broadcast her ambitions for the race, but such is the risk with being an Internet celebrity. Which she also was.

But she ate a pasta dinner, and laid out her race day gear, and got into a hotel bed which was shaped like a taco, and she went to sleep (or tried to, but her boyfriend IMan had the habit of exhaling his used breath directly into her breathing space, which made sleeping difficult), all the while unsure of herself and this whole marathoning business.

In the morning, she awoke and it was raining. Not misting or spitting or drizzling. It was torrentially down-pouring. She may even have seen literal cats and dogs dripping from the clouds. She was very scared (not of the cats and dogs; Claire loves animals).

She said to IMan, who was also running the marathon, but who has a much more even temperament when it comes to racing (let the record show he is psychotic about other things), "What are we going to do?" To which he replied, "we are going to run a marathon."

So they put on their race gear and lubed up with Body Glide and unfurled trash bags to wear over their clothes, and they ate granola bars and drank coffee and watched SportsCenter, and finally it was nearing the start time (which was 9am, which was quite late, but also meant they didn't have to wake up too early, which was nice). So they put their trash bags over their clothes and saw pedestrians walking by with their umbrellas blown inside out and they were not very excited to run. Claire even suggested that they skip the race altogether and go to the beer tent at the finish instead.

But instead they waited under an overhang to stay relatively dry, and when it was time, they went back out into the elements and headed toward the start. IMan, who is very fast, headed towards the front of the pack. Claire placed herself several rows back. The rain kept coming down. Claire said to herself, "Let's see how the first mile goes, but I'm pretty sure this is not a day for PRs."

At the gun, Claire stripped off her garbage bags and began to run. While most races necessitate a little bobbing and weaving to get through the pack during the first few miles, Claire found she had no trouble carving out some space for herself. Her pace bracelet said she should run a flat 8:00/mile for the first mile. She ran a 7:32. Fast. But it didn't feel that bad, and since she'd driven the course the night before and knew there were no major climbs in the back half, she thought "well, let me be a touch fast now, and see how I feel after 5k. It'll be just like that crappy race in Park Slope last weekend."

Mile 2: 7:23. Oops.
Mile 3: 7:32.

Claire was still feeling decent, though she had to pee pretty badly. So she decided to keep running a little fast in order to bank time in preparation for a bathroom stop.

Mile 4: 7:27
Mile 5: 7:39. "Is two minutes of banked time enough?" she thought. "Maybe I'll keep going to the next portapotty.

Mile 6: 7:30
Mile 7: 7:32
Mile 8: 7:26

By now, the rain had tapered off, and Claire was pleasantly surprised by how she was feeling. Minus being soaking wet and urgently needing to pee. But she figured she could hover around 7:30s through the first half, and that even on tired legs, she could run 8:30s through the second half, since that is the pace she'd been doing for her long run. If she could make this positive split strategy actually work, she would come in right at 3:30. But positive splitting isn't considered so much a strategy as it is a grievous error...

Mile 9: 7:37. Oof. Claire did not recollect this hill from driving the course...
Mile 10: 7:23
Mile 11: 7:28
Mile 12: 7:30
Mile 13: 7:41

As she came through the half marathon point, two weird things happened to our protagonist: 1) She set a half marathon PR at 1:38:XX, and 2) the course marshal told her she was "about the 6th lady." You really shouldn't set half marathon PRs during the marathon, and upon looking at her watch and seeing her time, Claire thought, "this is going to get very ugly." But she was admittedly buoyed knowing that she was among the top ten women. The man running with her was buoyed too, until he concluded aloud, "Oh, I'm not a lady."

Claire still had to pee. Badly. "But if I keep pushing through 16, I'll only have 10 miles to go."

Mile 14: 7:40
Mile 15: 7:46
Mile 16: 7:50

Claire knew she was slipping. "Run 2 more miles hard. Just 2."

Mile 17: 7:54
Mile 18: 7:54. The course did a weird left turn onto a side street here, where runners went about 10 yards down the street, around some orange cones, and back out again. Claire was a few steps ahead of the man who was not a lady, and nearly took him the wrong way because the around-the-cones maneuver seemed so weird. Why couldn't they have just backed the finish line up 20 yards?

Course marshals said "the next woman is just 20 seconds ahead of you! Striking distance!" You know what, guy? Strike this, she thought. She'd been running with the man who realized he was not a lady for almost 5 miles now, but he had headphones on, so they didn't exchange anything but grunts.

It started raining again. Hard. But by this point, Claire had banked enough time that she could slow down a full minute per mile if she needed to and still come in at 3:30. This was unexpected, and Claire instead assumed her legs would someone break off in the next 8 miles. Her shoes were very squishy, and the Gatorade (extra credit for all marathons that serve orange Gatorade - not lemon lime, and not Cytomax - on the course) that spilled into her sports bra with every sip burned the spots that had been rubbed raw. "8 miles to go; that's just twice around Prospect Park from your apartment. And maybe it's raining hard enough you could just pee while you're running." Claire decided not to try that because of the chafing risk. But she did really consider it.

Mile 19: 7:51. She was passed by a woman, and became the 7th woman overall.
Mile 20: 8:09. That hill, again. The first mile over 8 minutes. "Here it comes," she thought. She was passed again. 8th woman now.
Mile 21: 7:59
Mile 22: 7:54. A big downhill back towards the ocean, and the finish line. Alett, who stood out in the rain and wind, with a cold, to cheer, spied Claire and snapped her picture. "I hear there's beer at the finish!" she told Claire. Claire wanted a beer. But she also really wanted to pee.

Mile 23: 8:07. "Just 3 and change. 3:30 is in the bag. See what you can do."
Mile 24: 8:13. Claire passed another woman, though not one in her age group. 7th overall. Marathons never have water this close to the finish, but Claire was quite thirsty here.
Mile 25: 8:13. "10 more minutes, 10 more minutes and you'll have run sub 3:30 and you can pee."
Mile 26: 8:19. Hamstring was completely cramped and form was going haywire. Stride, limp, stride, limp...

When she first spied it, the finish chute clock read 3:24 and change. Claire pushed. The hamstring pushed back. "Break 3:25," she thought. Claire screamed like a women's tennis player. The crowd cheered. The announcer said "Claire Walsh from Brooklyn, New York has gone the distance." The finish clock read 3:24:45.

"Don't throw up, don't throw up." Claire caught her breath, grabbed her metal (not particularly nice, but for a small local race, she'll take it; also, the criterium for deeming a metal "nice" are pretty subjective) and began stumbling back to the hotel a few blocks away. She chatted with a fellow finisher and exchanged congratulatory remarks. "7th woman overall, eh? You probably got an age group award!" But Claire couldn't think about that because, by now she was not only soaking wet, but also freezing, and if it hasn't been mentioned, she really had to pee. She returned to the hotel room with the bed shaped like a taco to find IMan showering. "Howdiditgoohmygodpleasehurryihavetopee."

"It was okay," IMan reported as he toweled off while Claire shoved him out of the way to get into the bathroom, "but that course sucked. I felt like it was all uphill. The wind was awful. I ran a 3:02. I think I was 9th."

9th place? Out of the whole marathon? Um, yeah, I guess that's okay...

"How did it go for you?" IMan asked. "3:24, 7th woman overall."

"Um, congrats on the 9 minute PR!" IMan exclaimed, though Claire barely heard him as she turned on the hot water in the shower.

She wriggled out of her sopping wet running gear and stepped into the shower (and peed! So much! Like, 4 straight minutes of shower pee!). The hot water hit all of her most chafed spots and was agonizing. She wanted to sit down, but the shower floor was covered with pee. But worst off all, she wanted a beer, and there were none.

"Get out of that bed, IMan!" she demanded as she dug through her bag for sweats. "We're going to the beer tent."

Showered and warm, Claire and IMan began to feel much better. IMan's feet were very chewed up from running the sandy roads in the rain, and Claire had a blister or two, but they were determined to walk those 5 blocks back to the beer tent. They ran 26.2 miles in the pouring rain. They were going to drink free race beers.

Pictured: 9th place finisher enjoying a Smuttynose Star Island Pale Ale at the beer tent. This is the first marathon after which he has actually put on his medal. Not pictured: delicious slices of Dominos consumed at the finish.

On their way back to the car, Claire and IMan took a look at the official results. IMan was indeed 9th overall, with a 3:02:54. Claire was the 7th female, with a 3:24:45. IMan also won his age group, and Claire took second in hers. (I'd link to the official results, but I'd prefer you didn't know IMan's real name and try to steal him from me because you love his beard and want to date a winner).

The moral of this story? Rain and wind make for pretty miserable racing conditions, and facilitate chafing and blisters. They are not, however, an excuse for a less than A+ performance, no matter how much one wants them to be. Trust yourself, trust your training, and don't make excuses. You're stronger, faster, and better prepared than you think.

That said, even seasoned marathoners psyche themselves out every once in awhile. It's okay to be nervous.

Also, don't hold your pee in for 3 hours and 24 minutes. It's very uncomfortable.

Sunday Wrap Up: A Plus. Plus.

2011-10-02T20:12:00.001-04:00

I don't mean to be indelicate here, but...

Fuck. Yeah.

3:24:47 unofficial today. It absolutely poured rain, and the wind blew us in every direction except forward. And I PRed by 9 minutes and was the 7th woman finisher.

Then we drank a beer and ate a slice of pizza at the finish.

And then the Giants won.

Not a bad Sunday, really.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 40.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 2, and counting. I was brokenhearted when I realized that, it being Sunday, I couldn't buy beers to drink when I got back to IMan's place tonight. Luckily, his roommates kindly shared their beers with me. I think this is because they don't know how much I can drink.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Smuttynose Star Island Pale Ale at the finish; Smuttynose IPA when we got back.

And what's that? You'd like to know how IMan did too? Oh, he came in 9th. Overall. No big deal... We're just a bad ass marathoning duo.

Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Cold Beers

2011-09-30T17:25:00.000-04:00

My managing director (and fellow marathoner) sent an email to my group this afternoon:

Our super runner Claire is competing in her 12th marathon on Sunday! Please join me in wishing her luck and a lot of beer at the finish line. Good luck Claire!

I responded in kind:

The only reason I keep running them is because they don’t put the beer at the starting line.

Flippant? Yes. True? Possibly.

In any case, my short shorts are packed. My Garmin is charged. My homepage is set to Weather.com’s Hampton, NH weekend forecast. My carb reserves are topped off (that actually has less to do with the race than the fact that I love breadthings). By all indications, I’m ready for the Smuttynose Rockfest Marathon. So without further ado, the goals:

A+ Goal: 3:29:59. Sub 3:30 eluded me in Boston (to be precise, it got away from me as I passed through Newton) and now it's The One That Got Away. 3:30 is the pace bracelet I'll be wearing on Sunday, and if I come in even one second under 3:30, I would be very, very happy.

A Goal: 3:30:XX. There's not a whole lot of difference between my A and my A+ goals, eh? That's a little nerve-wracking...

B Goal: Sub 3:33:40. I picked this race because it's reputed to be a fast course (and, duh, because of the beer). I feel a little greedy looking for another marathon PR this year, but... I'm looking for another marathon PR this year.

C Goal: Sub 3:48. I ran a 3:48 on a hilly San Francisco course in July, stopping to take photos, drink a beer, fall down, and bleed on things. Not in that order. Barring crippling injury (and we can't rule out the possibility of another mid-marathon dive...), there's no reason I shouldn't be able to run as fast (using "fast" in the relative, not absolute, sense here) on Sunday.

D Goal: Don't shit self. I'm on an 11-marathon self-defecation-free streak. I'm hoping not to break it.

Coach Taylor, bring us home:

See you in the beer tent.

A Memo From Will Run For Beer

2011-09-27T13:57:00.002-04:00

To: Gift Givers I Know
From: Someone Who Appreciates Thoughtful Gifts
Date: September 27, 2011
Re: My Wish List

The Oxford Companion to Beer is coming out (Amazon says next month, but it was displayed in the Barnes and Noble in the 'Slope as I walked to the train this very morning). A veritable encyclopedia of mankind's finest intoxicant, the OCB profiles 107 distinct styles of brew, 70 varieties of hops, and the history and culture of beer, as well as provides comprehensive listings of beer musuems, beer festivals, and beer enthusiast clubs (not to be confused with AA chapters...) worldwide.

I must have it.

If you're in a generous and gift-giving mood, please note the following holidays, during which gift-giving is deemed appropriate, if not down-right customary:

Christmas: December 25, 2011
Birthday: February 7, 2012
Valentine's Day: February 14, 2012
Columbus Day: October 10, 2011*

*New for 2011 gift-giving holiday listing.

Sunday Wrap Up: Battle Ready?

2011-09-25T17:35:00.001-04:00

With one week before showtime, my Kinvaras are ready to slay:

But am I?

In my quest to run a race a month in 2011, and with time ticking down on September, I decided to "race" this morning's Music That Heals 5k in Prospect Park. Much as I was tempted, I didn't "race" it as a 5k; rather, I toed the line after running 5 miles, and planned to get a little practice hitting just under goal marathon pace. I was aiming for sub 24:00, and I crossed the finish in 23:52. But it felt pretty terrible, and after a fast first mile downhill, I struggled uphill in heat and July-level humidity, self-doubt increasing with every step. "3.1 miles on a course I know and I'm struggling? At this rate, what will next Sunday be like?!"

What did I learn from this? Don't race the weekend before your marathon. Even a 5k, even if you aren't really racing. There's really no need to unleash the taper beasts. But because I did, I look forward to spending the next 6 days nauseous as the seed of insecurity germinates right up until race day, while obsessively checking the weather and praying Fall arrives in New England before next weekend. Isn't running fun?!

Number of Miles Run This Week: 31. The MTH 5k was really well done for a small event. No chip timing, but ample water, post-race food, plenty of volunteers, accurate timing, and a start that might as well have been at my front door. The one drawback (besides my own suckage, I mean) was no fault of the race organizers, but rather the fault of my living in Park Slope, where children are engineered to be driven, collegiate recruitment machines. Just past the 1 mile mark, I came upon a mom and a kid of about 7. They'd probably run about a 7:15 first mile (!) but were rapidly decelerating. The mom was giving some benign advice at first, like "take deeper breaths." But then she started getting specific, about not "slowing yourself down getting boxed in and jammed up." As I passed, the kid must have given some protest, to which the mom replied "well you said you wanted to break 23 minutes!"

Also, I was passed in the finish chute by a woman older than my mom. I pat her on the back and congratulated her after we finished. She did not respond. Park Slopers are cutthroat.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 0. I toasted the Giants victory today with a glass of water. And bar fries, so it's not all bad.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: n/a

Nothing but baby miles this week. Well baby miles and phantom pains, crying jags, uncontrollable eating, pregnancy scares, and trips to PetCo. Spoke too soon about this being an easy taper...

The First of the Marathon Nightmares

2011-09-23T22:42:00.003-04:00

The taper does weird things to people. Some people experience phantom pains. Some people experience crying jags. Some people eat uncontrollably. Some people convince themselves they're pregnant. Some people invest heavily in aquarium supplies.

I've experienced all of those symptoms in my various tapers (I'm probably the only one who experienced the last two). This go around, the taper actually hasn't been too bad. I haven't even felt like I've had a ton of free time on my hands with the drop off in mileage. In fact, the only taper symptom I've been grappling with has been sleep-related.

During most of the year, sleeping is no problem for me. I go to bed early, I might get up once during the night to pee, and I wake up in the morning feeling rested. Well unless I'm hungover, in which case I wake up in the morning with mascara down to my chin, food stains on my pajamas, and the urgent need for Gatorade and something that's been fried and then covered with cheese.

I wish this were photoshopped...

But during the marathon taper, I can't sleep through the night. Several times a week, I'll find myself wide awake at 3:00 or 4:00am. Tossing and turning only exacerbates the sleeplessness, so I'll turn on the lights and read for an hour or two. And then suddenly I'm tired again. Just in time to sleep for 45 minutes until my alarm goes off. The pits.

Taper induced insomnia is annoying (also, startlingly common, given how many people are complaining about it on Twitter when I wake up suffering from it myself), but the marathon nightmares are worse. Last night, for example, I dreamt I was running Boston and finished in 3:33:49. I was absolutely devastated.

We've got a few problems here. To begin with, my next marathon isn't Boston; it's Smuttynose, so even my psyche has unrealistic expectations, which can't be a good thing. But the bigger issue is that my subconscious was crushed by a time 9 seconds off my PR. 9 seconds. In fact, I distinctly remember dream-Claire saying "that's slower than I ran it last year!" 9 whole seconds slower. God, you fat, slow, ugly, unloved, smelly poop for brains! How could you be 9 whole seconds off your PR?! Failure! Quit running for good and focus your efforts on being the world's fattest woman instead.

I wish this were photoshopped... Oh.

Jedi Mind Games

2011-09-20T22:11:00.001-04:00

A great many of my friends well and truly hate running. They don't want to hate running, of course; it's the only cardiovascular exercise you can do literally anywhere, without anything, so it's a rather convenient one to like. But they don't.

They say to me, "Claire, do you really, seriously enjoy running? How is that possible? Teach us your ways!" And I respond in kind: "I do really, seriously enjoy it. There is no trick. I just don't think of running as a punishment, but as a privilege."

In addition to being utterly sanctimonious, that's also not true. Not entirely anyway. I do really, seriously enjoy running. And I do think of it as a privilege. But the part I leave out is that I'm most likely to trick myself into thinking "running is a privilege" when it feels like self-inflicted punishment.

I've never met a runner who doesn't have some tips, tricks, or other means of convincing themselves they love running when they'd rather be getting run over. Whether it's "you can stop and walk at the next telephone pole" or "you just need to do 15 minutes," runners are nothing if not pathological liars. I won't stop after 15 minutes; I'll do the 15 minutes and then tell myself "okay, another 10 minutes; that's easy!" and replay the cycle until I've been running for an hour. It's not punishment so much as a honed ability to inflict self-psychological warfare. Runners are, in short, sociopaths.

As you would expect, this sadistic trickery is most prevalent during the marathon. "Well after 10k, I have fewer than 20 miles left;" "Half marathon to go;" "16.2 miles down - I'm only left with single digits;" "Okay just an hour left;" I've used everyone of those plus literally dozens more to get through races in the past, and have no doubt that I'll employ even more at my next marathon in 10 days (e.g. "The more people you pass now, the fewer people you'll have to wait on line behind to get beer at the finish.")

What you would not expect is that sometimes, I employ this chicanery to get through what should be easy, run-of-the-mill (sometimes literally) miles - the ones that actually should be a privilege. Take tonight, for example: I did not want to run. At all. I had gotten up at 6:30 this morning, having every intention of running, and even donning running clothes. I wore them to walk to the coffee shop, and to sit on my bed watching the Today Show. But I had 5 measly, easy miles on the calendar today, so I doffed my unused, miraculously-not-coffee-stained running clothes and tossed them in my work bag.

Then I spent 10 hours wearing really uncomfortable boots and standing up at a cocktail (mocktail, for me, because I'm a loser again) reception (the reception itself wasn't 10 hours, though that would be awesome had I actually been drinking). When I finally got on the train, I had no interest in running. I wanted to go home and eat things. I did not want to punish myself at the gym.

"Just go there; it's on the way home from the subway station and you have your clothes with you." Fine. I'd go, but I didn't say anything about running. Maybe I'd just stretch/foam roll/watch TV.

Upon arrival, I still hadn't found my mojo, but decided I should at least get on a treadmill. "Even if you walk; even if it's just for 10 minutes." I walked over to a 'mill. It displayed an ominous message on its screen: "5 ERRORS." Strike one.

I moved down the line of treadmills and got on the next one. "Well, since I'm on it, I'll at least start out running." I upped the speed to 7.0mph. The belt got up to about 4mph and then plateau-ed. I knew I wasn't feeling so awesome that it just seemed that easy. Strike two.

I moved to a different row of treadmills and selected the only unoccupied one. Which had a TV that didn't work. The running Gods were seemingly begging me not to work out. But I thought to myself "listen to your iPod for a few songs and you can get off or die of boredom in 20 minutes."

20 minutes became 3 miles. Became 4 miles. Became 36 minutes. Became 5 miles. When I looked down and realized I'd actually accomplished the workout I was scheduled to do, I almost started laughing. My Jedi mind powers are incredible.

Now let's just hope I didn't use them all up ahead of next weekend's marathon.

Sunday Wrap Up: Welcome to Loserville

2011-09-18T19:16:00.001-04:00

Population: Claire.

I'm back from Maine, and with it, back to sobriety. I'm not saying you have to drink beer in order to be cool, but... Didn't you go to high school?

Number of Miles Run This Week: 48. I ran some of my best miles this training cycle over the last week. Then I came home from Maine and had to rely on E! reality TV to get through 6 and a half measly miles on the treadmill. Woof. I bounced back somewhat this afternoon, running 14 miles in perfect weather back in Brooklyn. It is unclear how much of the success of that run can be attributed to day 2 of my detox. And I mean seafood detox as much as I mean beer. I don't think deep fried scallops can possibly be considered "fuel." You know what they can be considered? "Awesome."

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: I'd estimate 15. And id be lowballing it. Nothing pairs with deep fried scallops quite like a cold pale ale. Except 4 cold pale ales.

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Geary's, Gritty's, Pemaquid, and Andrew's Pale Ales, Allagash White, and Shipyard Export Ale, all from Maine. And I had a Sam Adam's with my previously pictured best lunch ever. That's 7 varieties of beer. And what do you know, I was on vacation for 7 days! Am I the perfect...uh... Beer-related mathematician, or what? Am I the only beer-related mathematician? Likely so.

So, we're now 2 weeks from The Big Dance. No, I'm not in an upcoming production of West Side Story (I wish!). The Smuttynose Marathon is 2 weeks from today. I'm technically a week into my taper and haven't yet gone bananas or acquired new pets (related: Four is still alive even after my week away from him!), but because I had so much free time this past week, I didn't really cut down on mileage either. In fact, I only ran 1 miles fewer this week than last. Still, things will really wind down on the running front this week and next, so I'm trying to preemptively fill my schedule so as not to eat my feelings and/or spontaneously start crying. Tomorrow night, for example, I'll be watching the Giants game. The Giants, in case you don't follow football, have been sucking. So actually, tomorrow I'm quite likely to eat my feelings and spontaneously start crying. Just keep me out of PetCo and I'll consider it a success...

Seen on my Run

2011-09-16T16:22:00.001-04:00

I woke up this morning to find the Internet FREAKING OUT about how cold it was back home in NYC.

People?

It was 39 degrees when I woke up in Maine this morning.

Literally.

That said, I actually love the cooler weather (not that sweat induced adult acne wasn't totally awesome all summer long....) and was psyched to get out for a run this morning. Okay, I waited until the temps climbed into the mid-forties...

It was literally perfect weather for a run this morning: crisp and breezy, dry and sunny. It was also perfect weather for photography, so even my crappy iPhone pics, taken with a sweaty, shaky hand are able to convey how beautiful it was this morning. Sort of.

These are the Belted Galloway cows at Aldermere farm. So pretty, and not even that smelly!

And, that's a sign at the farm. Awkward...

Megunticook Golf Club. I don't even play golf, and this is my favorite golf course in the world. Not counting mini-golf courses, of which I am a connoisseur, and which regrettably are already closed for the season up here.

Because it was chilly this morning, I got to bust out the 2011 Boston Marathon shirt while I ran. Which was timely, because this morning, I registered for the 2012 Boston Marathon! My application is being processed as we speak, and while I haven't yet received confirmation that I'm in, they did already take my $150. Either that's a good sign, or this is the most expensive rejection ever.

Bonus post-run photo!

Chicken chili and cheddar on a baked potato, with a Sam Adams. Best fall lunch ever! And totally proportional caloric intake, given that I only ran 7 miles this morning...

Now I've gotta go; as I'm leaving Maine tomorrow and headed back to NYC, and back to pre-marathon sobriety, I have to drink as much as I can in the remaining hours I have left here. Isn't that what everyone does when they're on vacation with their parents?

Track of Doom

2011-09-14T12:39:00.001-04:00

As I may have mentioned once or twice, I'm on vacation in Maine this week. And while that means I get to spend 5 whole days not going to work, it does not mean I get to spend 5 days not following a training plan.

Generally speaking, I quite like running in Maine; we've been coming here for many years, so I have plenty of routes already mapped out, and running gives me the chance to see what's changed since last summer. That said, nothing has changed at the local high school, and it would be my strong preference not to see their track. And yet, 800s were on my training schedule for today (which is, incidentally, the first Wednesday of my taper and therefore the most misleading use of the term "taper" ever), so once again this year, I ventured to Camden Hills Regional High School to use their track. The track of doom.

I know: you think I think all tracks are tracks of doom, but this one is even more ominous than most. For starters, it's black. Black clouds, black cats, black toenails... Not things you want to encounter during training. Plus, it's like running on the surface of the sun. Also, it's on an elevated plain, so it's highly susceptible to lightening strikes, swarms of black flies, and high school boys making fun of people who are working out on it. In short, I don't approach workouts here with a sense of confidence (which seems unfair, because I was cool in high school; why don't those brats know that about me?!)

Anyway, I got to the track this morning and started my warm up, quickly discovering that in some spots, the inside 3 lanes were blocked with nets, benches, and various sporting equipment while the lines of the field were being painted. So I'd be running closer to 810s than 800s. Because I'm so fond of 800s, an extra 10 meters would be a special treat. A treat of doom.

As I knocked out the first mile of my warm up, I realized I usually don't warm up or cool down on the track itself; at home, I run from the gym to the track to warm up, so that by the time I arrive at the track, I've already done my two miles and can get right down to speed work. Today, I realized, I'd be running 10 miles over the course of my workout, entirely on the track. 40 laps of doom.

Here is what goes through one's head while running 40 laps on a track:

Laps 1-8: Warming up is easy, if boring. The weather here is nice. What should I eat for breakfast after this?

Laps 9, 10: Hey, this doesn't suck! Maybe I should do 10 800s, instead of just the 8 I'm scheduled to do!

Lap 11: I barely even need these recovery laps!

Laps 12, 13: I can't wait until I can get water after this set

Lap 14: It smells like something's burning. Is it me? And are those vultures?

Laps 15-32: Oh God, Mommy, don't leave me here!

Laps 33-40: Be cool, be cool. You're fine. Be cool.

My 800 splits were as follows:
3:29, 3:23, 3:25, 3:25, 3:25, 3:26, 3:28, 3:22 (eff no, I did not do 10 instead of 8!), so I was actually pretty psyched at the end of this workout. And by "pretty psyched," I mean "I made my mom take a picture of my triumph over the track of doom":

No, I didn't run wearing a one piece bathing suit. Yes, I really did think that was a "tough" face. Awkward image of doom.

And with that, track work is over and the next 2 and a half weeks will be full of phantom pains, insatiable hunger, random crying jags, and the possible acquisition of another pet. Taper of doom.

Doesn't marathoning sound fun?!

It's 4:15 Somewhere

2011-09-13T16:21:00.001-04:00

10.4 hilly miles this morning. Gritty's Pub Style Pale Ale this afternoon.

That I ran 10-plus miles on a Tuesday morning, without having to start at 5:30am or get ready for work at the gym (that green body wash doesn't exactly result in the most smooth and hydrated face) made me think that running on vacation is pretty awesome. That I cracked my first beer at 4:15pm confirmed that, running or not, vacation is pretty awesome.

Hope you suckers are having a good week at the office!

Sunday Wrap Up: The (Almost) Perfect Day

2011-09-11T18:50:00.001-04:00

Step 1. Wake up without an alarm clock. In Maine.
Step 2. Drink coffee with family and friends. Require a sweatshirt due to cool temperatures.
Step 3. Run 21.3 miles, with no concern for pace, in mid-50 degree weather with no humidity. Climb challenging hills, lap gorgeous marinas, traverse unpaved roads, say "good morning" to every single runner, hiker, dog walker, and biker encountered, and mean it.
Step 4. Eat awesome sandwich...
Step 5. ... And peanut butter chocolate fudge
Step 6. Open a beer
Step 7. Make that, two beers
Step 8. Watch the Giants game

The only way this day could be even more perfect would be if Eli Manning weren't playing like Eli Manning.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 49. I have half a mind to run home from dinner tonight to make it an even 50. And depending on how many more beers I drink, perhaps I will.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 4. Last Sunday marked 4 weeks out from my marathon, or the onset of my traditional pre-race dry period. Unfortunately, that would have meant I would have slaved away all week long, staying later and later at the office which each successive night last week so I could well and truly enjoy a week's vacation, only to get here and not really be able to enjoy vacation. Maine has a lot of awesome beer, so not drinking them would have been akin to going to Tuscany and sticking to the Atkins diet. Or just sticking to the Atkins diet in general, because that shit sounds miserable. So anyway, here's what I decided to do: starting last Sunday, I stopped drinking. Upon my arrival in Maine, and until I leave here next Saturday, I shall enjoy beers. Upon my return to New York, I'm going back to Dry Town. So really, it's the same 4 weeks of detox I usually do, only one of those 4 weeks is actually re-tox. It's science.

(Don't question me.)

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Geary's Pale Ale and Gritty's Red Claw thus far. Contenders for tonight include Andrew's, Shipyard, Allagash... The possibilities are endless.

Number of Crustaceans I Plan to Eat Tonight: 12. Is lobster a carb? Maybe Atkins isn't so bad after all...

The Cost-Conscious Runner

2011-09-08T22:37:00.001-04:00

In theory, running is a very low-cost sporting option. Do you have a pair of shorts? Great, you can be a runner! At this point, even sneakers are viewed as optional.

But fine, let’s say you’re more mainstream than that (conformist!). And maybe you’re a chick. So, do you have a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, a bra, a ponytail holder, socks, and sneakers? Hit the pavement – you’re ready to be a runner!

But maybe you’ve been running awhile, so you’re ready to take it to the next level (or, you want people to think you took it to the next level, based on how you look). Technical fabrics. Seasonal outerwear. Sneakers you replace every couple of months. Reflective gear. Mid-run nutrition. Post-run refueling (craft beer don’t come cheap). A Garmin, even. Now your spending is getting up there.

Are you ready to run a marathon? Do you have $207? That’s what it will cost if you want to run New York. Granted, if you, like me, live here, you’ll save on travel costs. But in Boston, it’ll still cost you $150, plus travel expenses to get there and accommodations. And that’s assuming you don’t want to buy anything at the expo (those jackets aren't free, you know). Or eat.

And if you’re running Boston, chances are good that you paid to travel to and race at another marathon to get yourself into Boston.

As you can see, running gets costly fast. But how costly? I decided to run (hehe) some numbers, based on my own running and spending habits, to get a sense of what it costs to be a casual runner over the course of a year.

Marathon entry fees:
Registration fees vary vastly depending on the race, but if you find a race that costs less than $80, you’ve gotten yourself a bargain. In 2011, I ran Boston and San Francisco, and will run the much smaller and less costly Smuttynose Marathon next month. Let's average races at $125. So 3 marathons/year x $125/marathon = $375

Other race entry fees:
This year, I made it my goal to run a race a month. This includes my marathons, so let’s say that’s 9 additional races. NYRR races cost $33 each, as I’m not a member. Other local small races may be cheaper, but half marathons get more expensive, so I’m using $33 as the average. 9 races x $33/race = $297

Travel expenses:
I happen to use racing as a good excuse to visit friends, so I’m often shacking up with people I know when I travel to race. But I don’t have any friends in the airline industry, so that transcontinental flight sadly wasn’t free. Between airfare and train travel, I’d guess I’ll have spent about $700 getting to races by the end of the year.

Sneakers:
I replace mine every 350 or 400 miles. So about 4.5 pairs a year. 5 pairs/sneakers x $80/pair = $400

Gym membership:
Disclaimer – my parents pay for my gym membership, which is renewed as a Christmas present every year. But it costs them (and you suckers, who presumably pay for your own, unless you’re psycho and train outside even when there are 25 inches of snow on the ground, or it’s 105 degrees and 97% humidity – both of which have occurred in NYC in the past year) $89/month X 12 months = $1068. (Related: Whoa, parents, you are extremely generous. Thank you!)

Miscellaneous gear:
Given how many races I’ve run, I never need to buy another t-shirt again. However, sports bras and socks and shorts and hats and all that stuff wears out eventually. I might spent $50 a month on random things like that. Which seems like I’ve lowballed it, until I realize that $600 a year.

Laundry:
Running makes you sweat. A lot. I drop off my laundry to be done, which is actually cheaper than doing it myself. It costs $1/lb. I average 2 loads a month, each around 15 pounds, consisting almost entirely of running clothes (and underwear). $30/month x 12 months = $360.

Training tools:
I spend $8.95 a month on a Pro Membership to DailyMile, my online training log. I could use this service for free with almost all of the same benefits as a paid membership, but given what an important and downright essential tool it’s been in the 2+ year’s I’ve been a member, I’m more than happy to pay for a Pro Membership. Plus it enables me to send people icons that convey my support, such as a pair of sunglasses emblazoned with "badass!" or a pint glass that says "cheers!"

I spent another $29.95 on my marathon training plan from TrainingPeaks. I credit this plan (and my legs) for my Boston qualifier and Boston marathon PR. You can buy it once and apply it multiple times, so with dollar cost averaging (fact: I have no idea what that term means), it’s totally worth it.

I also subscribe to both Runner’s World and Running Times, which might cost $10 per subscription. And I just bought Kara Goucher’s “Running for Women” on Kindle for $11.99. I actually don’t find it particularly helpful as a training tool, save for the fact that Kara’s picture is on the “e-cover.”
DailyMile - $107.40
TrainingPeaks - $29.95
Books/magazines -$31.99
That’s $169.34

Water:
That shit is free. (Well, except for paying $1068 to belong to a gym with water fountains…)

Already, we’ve racked up $3,969.34 in running related expenses over a 12 month period. That doesn’t take into consideration more occasional expenses; for example, a post toenail regrowth pedicure. Or, when I spent 10 weeks in physical therapy earlier this year and it cost $25 a session. I went twice a week. I’m pretty sure those fancy prosthetic legs cost less than $500…

You’re probably wondering why I bothered to do this math, and what on earth prompted this little economic forum. It all started when I spent some time running on a Woodway treadmill at the gym. The gym was pretty crowded, but the 3 Woodways were all free. This was sort of weird, since Woodways are known (or marketed, at least) as being easier on your body. So I hopped on, and started thinking. If Woodways are better for runners, why then don’t gyms switch to an all-Woodway layout? And actually, why didn’t my parents, who have a treadmill at home, get a Woodway?

So I did a little Googling, and found the Woodway model at the gym. Behold: the Woodway Desmo H

And behold: its price tag

$10,000.

My gym has 3 of them. Those three treadmills alone are worth more than a year of a 22 year old’s professional life (trust me; I’m speaking from experience here).

I urge anyone who says running is low-cost to check back in with me in 60 years, when I still won’t have saved enough to retire. On the plus side, my investment in compression shorts is going to come in really handy when I’m still trying to wear pencil skirts to work at age 87…

A Wise Man Once Said...

2011-09-06T22:42:00.001-04:00

Preeminent philosopher of modern times Vince Vaughn said it best: "No excuses; play like a champion." I don't seem to have that problem when it comes to my social pursuits, but lately it seems like every run has come with some sort of excuse or qualifier; I've been tired, I've had one too many beers, I've forgotten to charge my Garmin, I've had to get to work early, I've been evacuated due to imminent natural disaster. Legitimate as they may be (well, some of them anyway...), even I'm getting sick of my excuses.

Tonight I hit the 'mill after work for an easy 6 miles. I felt great for the first 5, increasing my pace each mile. But after 50 minutes, my stomach started churning, and not even reruns of Teen Mom could distract me. I was forced to slow my pace or face imminent and embarrassing mid-treadmill defecation. Another run, another excuse for a less thank champion-level effort and performance. Woof.

Tomorrow is slated to be my last 800s workout of this training cycle. It's also slated to be raining. According to the same screed which brought us the first dictum of this post, there is also: "Always bring an extra umbrella. Courtesy opens more legs than charm." I'm not really sure that's applicable in the case of a track workout (or the social life of a heterosexual female), so maybe I should feel less guilty about not applying the sage wisdom of Mr. Vaughn after all... Or maybe that's just my excuse.

Tuesday Wrap Up: Goodbye, Summer

2011-09-06T12:06:00.001-04:00

Fact: it is only 62 degrees today, the unofficial first day of not-summer.

Fact: I’m wearing white pants anyway.

I’m not sure how this happened, but Labor Day weekend has come and gone. People are all “woe is me, summer is the greatest, I can’t go on living,” and truth be told, my Monday depression was raging yesterday (sorry, IMan…). But really, Fall is awesome. So awesome, in fact, I would argue that Fall is the best season. I know, that’s a bold statement. But hear me out. Here is a list of reasons Fall rules:

1. Football. College football, NFL, and hot, preppy dudes playing football in the Park. That third one actually doesn’t exist outside the pages of the Abercrombie catalogue, but it’s nice to think about the possibility.
2. Cooler temperatures, lower humidity. No longer will I have to change into a dry shirt after walking the three blocks from the subway to my office. Also, the guy who does my laundry will probably hate me less, because my running clothes won’t smell quite so bad. On Sunday, 3 bugs actually drowned in my face sweat while I was running. True story. I'm ready to stop committing accidental insect genocide.
3. Fall clothes. I’ve been wearing (and sweating in) the same stuff every day since May. Give me cashmere and corduroys.
4. Heavier beers. Belgian yeast is overrated.
5. Foliage. Granted, I live in an urban environment, but I’m a sucker for changing leaves. Also, I’m a sucker for using the term “leaf-peeping” as a sexual euphemism.
6. Fall races. The Smuttynose Marathon is now less than 4 weeks away. I have one (50 mile…) week to go before my taper begins next week.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 44. Track work was solid last week, but in general, I’m feeling pretty weary and my legs are starting to get run down. Just get me through this week…

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 8. I had three beers on Saturday night and passed out at halftime during the Oregon-LSU game. Party animal, right here…

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: Brooklyn Lager, Brooklyn Pilsner, Pacifico, Bud Light. IMan and I went to a bodega on Sunday night to grab beers on our way to Colin’s place and I was shocked to see how many Fall beers are stocked already. IMan’s first thought was “wow, these Oktoberfest beers have been sitting on this shelf for, like, a year.” Whatever staves off your seasonal depression…

The Hangover Shuffle

2011-09-02T08:18:00.003-04:00

You know that feeling when you wake up and your mouth tastes like a combination of Doritos and cotton balls? You swing your feet over the edge of the bed and you almost wish that you had more of a headache, if only so you had a concrete excuse not to go running? But you don't, not really anyway, so instead you hem and haw and do unimportant tasks around your house that have suddenly become "must-do," if only to put off going outside? But then you eventually run out of things to dust or laundry to put away, so in one last ditch effort, you wish for a split second that maybe you've lost your shoes or forgot to charge your Garmin and oops, guess I can't go running? But of course your shoes are right where you left them and your Garmin was plugged in last night, when your beer legs convinced you you were going to wake up even earlier than usual and run even more and won't that be so great so you better make sure that Garmin is charged?! Only now it's the next day and it's not very great at all?

So you go outside and take a deep breath and press start and then, ever so gingerly, take your first steps? Like a newborn fawn, not at all surefooted, wondering, how much will this hurt? Trying not to move your head at all or pound the pavement, anticipating that headache you wished for half an hour ago will hit you like a ton of beers the moment you start moving, suddenly asking yourself what is that in my stomach? You're practically wincing with each step, waiting for the pounding in your skull to start, shuffling along as tenderly as possible?

You know that feeling?

Me neither. Never happened to me.

Finding Meaning in Maxims

2011-09-01T07:42:00.002-04:00

I always thought that "it doesn't matter how fast you do them," was something that coaches told slow kids to make them feel better. I came to this conclusion having run on the indoor track team in high school, where my superhuman speed hadn't quite yet manifested itself. Last night at the track was the first time that maxim actually made sense to me.

As you are well aware, I hate mile repeats, and also am not very good at running them. Last night, I was committed to doing them successfully. I had a dual strategy for conquering them:
1. Don't get psyched out, and
2. Run consistently.
I didn't care if they weren't my fastest; I just wanted them to be even.

Given how much trouble I had with them last time, I decided I'd use the McMillan pace calculator to determine how fast I should be running them, rather than guessing on my own. I plugged in my goal marathon time - 3:29:59 - and it spit out my 1600 target paces - 6:54 to 7:09.

Not only did this give me more flexibility than my guess of 6:55-7:00, but 7:09?! Delightful! That's like, walking, right? Well not exactly, but I just started pretending that, yes, it was, and this was barely going to be a speed workout. Step 1 - complete.

I got to the track after work (related - I hate running after work. No matter what I've eaten, my stomach hurts) and it was packed. And I was annoyed. Who are these people? And why are those girls wearing such short shorts? That's my schtick. Only I do it without chiseled abs and an even, natural tan. Where did these chicks come from?

I set out for my first repeat pretty easy, glancing at my Garmin every 400. Slowly, I watched my pace come down. 7:17, 7:07, 7:01. I finished the first repeat in 6:56 and felt great. I'd done it perfectly!

I took my two recovery laps and waited a few additional seconds for a big group also running miles to fly by in the inside lane before I toed the line for the second. Damn, short shorts, chiseled abs, and they're fast?! Life can be so cruel. I went out comfortably, but glanced down after a lap and saw I was right at 6:56. But I felt like I could hold it for 3 more laps. I clocked the second in 6:53.

The workout continued much the same way, and rather than throwing me off, the team working out on the track helped me quite a bit. I was able to pace off a few different people, letting them do the heavy lifting while I just held on. But don't worry; I wasn't a total selfish jerk. I even said to one guy "you did the work last lap, I'll pull you this lap." (Then I smoked him). And the women on the team were very informative in that their short shorts that didn't appear to be riding up at all. They inspired me to add to my short short collection, which I know you're all thrilled to hear.

Anyway, my last 2 splits were 6:56 and 6:53. This wasn't my fastest set of repeats, but it was the first time in awhile that I felt like I got was I was supposed to out of the workout. I was consistent, felt good, and was right where I needed to be for a 3:30 marathon. Mental health restored!

Mile repeats were also my last workout for the month of August. My total mileage for the month? Only 138. Not so good. Also, exactly 20 miles less than I ran last month. And that long run I missed last weekend thanks to Hurricane Irene? 20 miles. D'oh!

Anyway, one last note before I leave you to celebrate today's rest day by watching the Today Show until the last possible moment: IMan is looking for two to three people to join his Reach the Beach team in New Hampshire next month. I ran RTB: Massachusetts back in May and it was really, really fun. If you too are really, really fun, and interested in joining a team, shoot me an email at willrunforbeerblog at gmail dot com. If you're not fun, though, don't bother.

Anyway, have a good Thursday. It doesn't matter how fast it goes by.

Wow, I just found a situation in which that adage definitely DOESN'T apply...

Tuesday Wrap Up: Blown Off Track

2011-08-30T10:04:00.001-04:00

So, yeah. While Hurricane Irene was sort of a bust in New York (from where I evacuated), it was sort of nuts in Connecticut (to where I evacuated). You may have gathered by the abrupt discontinuation of my exemplary hurricane preparedness strategies presented in this blog that we lost both power and cell service thanks to Irene. So much for those ZOMG HURRICANE!!!! Facebook albums I was preparing to upload.

The Walsh Family Refugee Camp, which ended up housing both me and IMan, after he received evacuation orders on Saturday afternoon, has been cut off from power since about 5:00am Sunday. Worse, though, is that they're marooned; a tree fell (onto the power lines) directly across the driveway, barricading them in.

Thankfully, IMan parked his car in a lot about a mile away during the storm, so we were able to walk down to get it and contact the outside world (I found a 3G hotspot halfway down the street that became my lifeline during an otherwise exceedingly boring Sunday afternoon). I think more than anything else, my parents were glad this meant that I could get in IMan's car and leave; I'm extremely whiny when marooned.

It took until Monday evening for trains to be running back into the city, but I decided I'd rather spent one more night in suburbia where I could watch the Giants game with friends (I relocated to Ryan's house to prevent IMan from breaking up with me; I'm also extremely whiny when the Giants lose. While I was glad I had my jersey in my evacuation kit after all, I'm beginning to think I should invest in a David Carr jersey, and bench the Manning jersey. Tom Coughlin, perhaps you should do the same.

Anyway, after much hype, little electricity, many beers, few miles, and sleeping in 3 different beds (thanks for the Monday night slumber party, Ryan!) I'm back in New York. And I need to get back on track.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 21. Ouch. Missing this weekend's 20 miler hurt. I still got in a fast 11, and with my San Francisco race and other good, long workouts under my belt over the last 6 weeks or so, I'm not too worried, but it's discouraging to see a low number. I also probably should have run yesterday to make up for missing Sunday's run, but between the refugee status, the need to actually get some work done (hello, everyone else being in the office), and the mental preparation I needed for the Giants game (also, the beers and fish tacos I needed before the Giants game...), it didn't happen. I need to get it together for the next two weeks, until the taper hits. Also, I need to lay off the beers and fish tacos. And the appetizer sampler we ate after that...

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: If Monday night counts, we're looking at 18, easy. I don't want to play this game this week because I'm feeling guilty for not running much.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: One of the things I wanted to blog about before our connection to the outside world was destroyed was hurricane survival beers. For example, if you're going to be stuck for awhile, Stout is an obvious choice, but don't forget about a Scotch Ale, or even a hearty Brown Ale. I went with Smuttynose Old Dog Brown Ale, and Stoudt's Fat Dog Stout (also, I like dogs). Another survival strategy for beer would be if you're without water. Then you'd wanna go with something cheap, that has a lot of water in it. My personal preference is Bud Light, but IMan went with Miller Light. Something I wouldn't recommend in a survival situation would be a light "craft" beer, which sounds like an oxymoron in itself, but I recently learned that it does exist - sort of. My dad's been all about Sam Adams Light of late, and while I have to hand it to him in that it does have a decently robust flavor for a light beer, there's a lot of controversy over whether or not Sam Adams still qualifies as a craft brewery, a designation which is made based on production numbers - fewer than 2 million barrels/year earns the craft designation. Sam Adams lobbied to raise the production limit to 6 million barrels/year. In any case, I wouldn't recommend this beer in a disaster situation; it's more pronounced flavor makes it less "drinkable" than its mass-market light beer counterparts, so you don't get the rehydration benefits, but it's status as a light beer means you don't get the caloric intake you get from a hearty, bold beer. Nonetheless, I tried it over the weekend. Just to see.

And yes, I put far too much thought into that analysis.

Anyway, this concludes my autobiography as a refugee. Hopefully my parents will get power again soon, otherwise I fear the Walsh Family Refugee Camp will have to move to Brooklyn.

Dispatches from the Disaster Zone

2011-08-27T10:52:00.004-04:00

Coming to you live from Fairfield County, Connecticut...

- The gas stations here are out of regular gas. Which is weird, since so many people here drive cars that cost more than four years of college, and therefore take premium gasoline. Though I suppose those aren't the cars you're driving in a hurricane. You're probably just filling up your beater with regular gas, in case of the apocalypse. Though wouldn't it suck if the last memory people have of you is of your fleeing town in, God forbid, a Suburu?*

- It was already humid and a little rainy when I woke up this morning (heretofore known as "my potential last day on earth"), so instead of running outside, I went to the gym. I spent 90 minutes on the treadmill, running 11 miles while watching BREAKING HURRICANE COVERAGE the entire time. If the power goes out, I want to feel like I used up my fair share of electricity in the days leading up to it.

- Which is part of the reason why I'm going to blowdry my hair after my shower. Also, because I want to look cute in the ZOMG HURRICANE!!!! Facebook photo albums people post on Monday.

- There were lots of other people at the gym this morning. Not sure if they are unconcerned about hurricane preparedness, or they are preparing by readying themselves to outrun the hurricane. In which case, they're doing it wrong; everyone knows you need a taper that's longer than one day to be at your racing peak.

- I think I left my laptop on the floor in my apartment. Can laptops swim?

- The Giants game has been reschedule to Monday at 7pm. I'm pissed because watching football was an integral part of my hurricane preparedness action plan. And also, because I packed my Manning jersey in my Go Bag, but now it turns out I could have packed something that would actual be useful in a hurricane. Like season 4 of South Park on DVD.

Those are all the updates so far. Rumor has it the hurricane will have passed through the region by dinnertime tomorrow. Probably every single tree that hasn't already fallen on the road will be hanging by the tiniest little root, so a run outside probably isn't going to happen, but maybe we'll have power and I could even hop on the treadmill. Which is in the basement....

So maybe I'll swim tomorrow!

*Chill - my mom drives a Suburu.

In Case of Emergency

2011-08-26T19:00:00.001-04:00

Well, shit. What a start to the weekend. Lower Manhattan was evacuated at 2:00 this afternoon, and all public transit will stop running by noon tomorrow. Mayor Mike told us we have to stay inside between 9pm Saturday and 9pm Sunday. Thank God I just got a new umbrella, which I'm sure will be useful in hurricane-force winds.
So I'm evacuating myself to Connecticut, where they'll still lose power, but someone else (Dad) has already purchased all the pantry staples for an emergency situation: snacks, and beer.

Obviously, as a refugee, I'm now an expert in what needs to go into your "Go Bag." Here's what's in mine:

- Sneakers. I'm meant to run 20 miles on Sunday. That's probably not feasible, since Irene is meant to slam into us Sunday morning, but I'm hoping I can go long tomorrow before she hits. There is still a tight window: the Giants' game got moved up to 2:00pm tomorrow, so I can't fritter away the day.

- Gu. If anyone survives this, it's gonna be us runners, since we're used to eating disgusting shit as fuel for survival.

- Fully charged iPad, iPhone, iPod. Blogs, eBooks, Twitter, the NYTimes, crossword puzzles, texting, and tunes. You might also suggest I use these tools for one other thing: porn. To which I'd respond, "I'm going to my parents' house tonight, creep."

- Digital camera. You don't want to be the only asshole without a "ZOMG HURRICANE!!!!" album on Facebook.

- Receipt from the dentist this morning. This isn't a survival tool; it just happens to be in there. I hope the world doesn't get washed away over the weekend, because my insurance company owes my hot dentist $720 for a filling, and I'd hate to be at all responsible for unsettled debts. That shit will get you into Purgatory. I bet it rains all the time in Purgatory.

That's really it. There's boring stuff like clothes and a toothbrush, and also some wellies and a raincoat. Stilettos, since I obviously wore slut shoes to the hot dentist this morning.

People were all "you need water!" Hello, have you heard of hurricanes before? Their principle identifying factor is rain. Go outside, open your mouth, swallow (that's what he said).

They say "you need batteries!" I own 2 things that run on batteries. One is the TV remote, and If we have cable and electricity at all, I can get up to change the channel, which will help me to ensure I log all my miles this weekend despite being trapped at home. The other is... In the same category as porn, so I didn't bring that to my parents' house either.

People said "but what about a flashlight?!" Obviously those people have never dropped something in a dark bar. Do you have a cell phone? Then you have a flashlight.

So basically, I'm a Boy Scout.

Be safe this weekend, everyone!

Race Report: 10 Dollar 10K, or My Accidental Win

2011-08-24T21:56:00.002-04:00
In an effort to continue my streak of running a race every month, and with the number of days left in August rapidly dwindling, I decided on Monday to race tonight's 10 Dollar 10k, put on by NYCRuns. I'd never run an NYCRuns race before, but I follow them on Twitter, and the fellow in charge, Steve, is funny. That's really all it takes in terms of race directors (and regular people) to win me over. Plus, this race cost $10. Which is $23 less than NYRR races. I was sold. Never mind that it was in a park I'd never been to before, let alone run in, and it was on a Wednesday evening. I recruited a work friend, Nathan, and we snuck out of the office a few minutes early for the 7:00pm start.

$10, as you might imagine, doesn't buy you too many fancy perks, but I was impressed with what it did get me. A bib, a timing chip, an accurately measured course, "bag check" (really just a bench under which people deposited their bags. I left all my things, like my iPad, at work just in case, but no one reported any problems), volunteers, water, and even some potato chips at the finish (I declined, owing to stomach pains, owing to the fact that I grazed at my desk all day long, not for one second considering the fact that I was racing a 10k tonight).

The field was small - I think I read on Twitter there were 120 registered by late afternoon, so figure not many more than that turned out - and I got to see TK at the start (she easily found me, though her ever-present pigtails would have attracted my attention eventually). We even joked that we could start literally on the starting line, since there was room upfront. We didn't want to be those people, however, so we started a few rows back. Promptly at 7:00, and with a "3, 2, 1... GO!," we were off and running.

Nathan and I started together, and chatted as we set out. Less than half a mile in, he said (squealed, really), "Claire, we're the first girls!" Immediately after he said it, we veered to the right and faced a mountain. It sucked.

We stayed together, with the leaders in eyeshot, for another mile, alternately wheezing and joking about how weird it was to run a race where you could literally get lost; the field was thin, and it was getting dark, especially in the woods.

(That's what we writers call "foreshadowing...")

After about 2 1/2 miles, Nathan and I separated. I was still the lead woman, which was so, so weird and unintentional, and I anticipated getting blown by eventually. Still, I tried to keep a 7:30 pace, and kept my eyes peeled for Girl Number 2 to see how much longer my 15 minutes of running fame (in my mind) would last. Coming into a curve around 3 miles, a course marshal yelled "first woman!" Oooh, he's talking about me!

I stayed close to three guys a little older than me and we came through the start/finish for loop 2. I figured I'd hang on and let them pull me along. When we got to the mountain for the second time, I wanted them to literally pull me along.

About 4 miles in, still the lead woman, I started to think "well it'd be cool to actually win; what's a strategy to make that happen?" I worked as hard as I could on the uphills, and decided to recover on the straightaways, so I could cruise downhill as well. I usually like to recover downhill, but in racing with men tonight, I saw they all used the downhills to their advantage and to get some distance between us (no one likes to be chicked).

Coming back up into the wooded area from the water the second time, the same marshal told me "still the leader!" With just one other guy, I headed into the last turn. Or what I thought was the last turn.

After the turn, the course spit us back out onto the straightaway towards the finish and I thought we were in the clear. I was leading this guy now, and had no one visibly in front of me. At the last second - I'm talking, nearly break an ankle turning so hard, last second - a course marshal sent us to the right, into the woods again. Though there were bright orange arrows on the ground, I was so focused on the finish I had stopped looking for them.

Thankfully we made the turn together and tackled a few rollers, trading places. Finally, dude told me to take it, and that his hip was hurting. I told him to hang on, we had half a mile to go.

We veered left again down a slight hill and I could see the finish chute. And then, I could see the backs of the shirts of two (two!) guys blow by me. Sneaky bitches (no one likes to get "duded" either. I just made that term up, but the sentiment is true)! But they raced a good raced and deserved it. And they weren't girls.

One final push (hardly a push, as I was feeling pukey), and I crossed the line in 46:52 by my watch. Not a PR, but good enough to be the first woman over the line. I won a race!

All the dudes I'd been running with were super gracious, and we thanked each other for the race. Hip hurting man came in maybe a minute later, and I was glad to see he was able to run across the line. Maybe 2 or 3 minutes later, the Number Two Girl came across the line.

Shortly thereafter, Steve from NYCRuns came over to a group of finishers to chat. Apparently, some of them missed a turn somewhere - I assume the spot where I nearly missed the turn myself, but it was hard to figure exactly where, since there were so many loops and turns on the course. I was a little scared maybe I'd missed it somewhere, but my Garmin seems to think I ran a full 10k. But of course, in the only race I've ever been the women's winner, people got lost. So I guess I only "won." In any case, there seemed to be no hard feelings about it, from racers nor organizers.

I kept my eyes peeled on the finish chute and spied TK come across the line, the third female overall. And shortly thereafter, Nathan.

We grabbed water and chatted for a few minutes, and Steve updated recent finishers with the news about the unintentional detours. He apologized and said he wasn't sure how it happened, since all the course marshals were experienced volunteers. My interactions with all of them were great - they were both supportive and informative (I only wish I hadn't been sucking wind so hard I could barely thank them). I'm sure it was just an issue of running out of daylight. In any case, Steve said he wasn't sure what it was going to mean for timing, but results will be posted online tomorrow. Lest my victory turn out to be fleeting, I better celebrate tonight!

It was approaching 8pm, so I said my goodbyes and got ready to leave. "Are you running back to the office?" Nathan asked. Crap. I forgot I'd earlier considered knocking out my 8 miles at race pace tonight, since I'd be doing 6.2 ahead of race pace anyway. "Nah, I don't need to. I won the race; I deserve a break."

Thanks NYCRuns for a solid, no-frills event. I'll definitely be racing another event with you in the future. Hopefully I can be the legit women's winner next time.

But until then, this totally counts.

Guest Post: Twenty-Six and Then Some

2011-08-24T09:51:00.003-04:00
Do you know Page over at Twenty-Six and Then Some? I don't really either. But that didn't stop me from offering my guest-blogging services to her while she's on her honeymoon. And, because she also doesn't really know me, and therefore is unaware that I'm crass in language, slow in running, and drunk in bars (and other places), she agreed!

You can read my extremely serious and useful marathoning advice on her blog today here. Spoiler alert: there's an excellent Microsoft Paint depiction of my Boston Marathon finish. Enjoy it!

Brew Review: Brooklyn Weisse

2011-08-24T08:14:00.002-04:00
While I'm known for being very modest (see short shorts, opposite body dismorphia, speed work), last night, I thought of something that was, in my estimation, pure genius.

I was headed out to the 'burbs for a little bar trivia (and cheese fries!), which necessitates an hour-ish voyage on Metro North, which necessitates beer just to get through it (commuting is for the plebes). Normally, I'm relegated to drinking Bud Light, because that's what they serve in the bar car (also, because it costs $2.25 in Grand Central. Cheapest beer in New York, right there in Midtown). Believe me, I have no shame when it comes to drinking Bud Light. But I was craving something with a little more umph. I'm having a very busy couple of weeks, and needed a treat. Enter: the Saloon at the Oyster Bar.

I've mentioned in the past the best-kept secret I learned from my dad about the bathroom in here (I know I have, since I remember once blogging from the bar, but I can't find the link to it. In short, the bathroom is clean and full of products like lotion and hairspray, and not full of homeless people, and you can sneak in the back exit to the Loon to get right to the bathroom, thereby avoiding dirty Grand Central bathrooms. But don't tell everyone and ruin tit for the rest of us!), and since I both had to pee, and had some time to kill before my train, I decided to pop in for a pint. Some people think going to bars alone is weird and possibly the first step towards needing 12 Steps; I think the occasional solo bar excursion is relaxing, and we have enough technology in our arsenals to look like we're busy doing something very important and not drinking alone on a Tuesday. Even when we're just drawing pictures on our iPads with Adobe Ideas.

In any case, I took a look at the beers on tap, and went with the Brooklyn Weisse, which I can't remember having before. Though I live and drink in Brooklyn, I don't much care for Weisse beers, so I usually opt for Brooklyn Lager, or Brooklyn's summer ale, which is named something baseball related - either Pennant Ale or Pinstripe Ale. Well if I don't much care for Weisse beer, why did I order it? Though there was a pretty solid number of taps, nothing else really ticked my fancy:

Brooklyn Lager - drink it all the time

Checker Cab Blonde - had it once and hated it

Sunset Red - pretty sure I already reviewed it, the last time I blogged from the Saloon

Palm - already reviewed it

Chimay - already reviewed it

Blue Moon - the Bud Light of summer seasonals. I don't mean that in a flavored water way, but in a "often consumed (by me), in mass quantities" way

Guinness - the Bud Light of Ireland. Ditto to the note above. Not that it's flavorless and cheap; just not the new and exciting something I was looking for.

Bud Light - Bud Light. In the flavored water way.

So I ordered the Brooklyn Weisse, with lemon. At first sip, the fresh-squeezed lemon was way too overpowering - it tasted like drinking Pledge. But eventually the flavor mellowed and I think the lemon really enhanced the subtle citrus flavors, while countering the undercurrent of Weisse that I hate - banana and bubble gum. (Ugh, can't we try a different flavor profile. Anything! It's revolting.) However, this was well balanced, while a nice acidity to it, so neither of those yeast characteristics were too strong or obvious. This was also served very cold, which contributed to that refreshing, this-is-why-people-drink-this sentiment.

In short, I was pleasantly surprised by this beer, in that it was highly drinkable. That said, it was also sort of uninspired. When I'm trying a new beer, I want to sip it, ponder it, then be compelled to sip it again and ponder more - what is that flavor? What is that smell? This was sip, ponder, chug, burp under my breath, draw attention from midtown dudes in suits - not the good kind of attention, either. This beer is aimed at seasonal beer drinkers, who want that "I am refreshed!" feeling.

After my pint, I paid up and headed for my train. Where I drank a Bud Light. Which was both great for my beer blogger cred, and great for that 10k race I have tonight. Not as great as the cheese fries and sliders I had... Oh this race will be a delight.

Non-Running Rant: Football Season

2011-08-23T07:32:00.004-04:00
Some may say we're lucky to have a football season at all this year, after a seemingly interminable lockout that chopped training camp in half. I'd say it's only lucky if you're not a Giants fan.

Here's some of the "luck" we've had so far this season (hint, it's not good luck):

- Prince Akakakakamara (possibly not his real name) broke his foot. This was day 1 of training camp. Day 1. Also things with a 1 in them? The round of the draft in which he got picked up. So that was totally useful...

- We were already paying (decrepit, old) people enormous sums of money, which left us no room to negotiate, so we had to let go of people. Hot ones, like Kevin Boss. He was one of Eli's go-to guys. Also, he was hot.

- Also lost? Steve Smith went to NFC East rival Philadelphia, of all places. Remember that late season loss to Philly last year? And remember the playoffs? No, you don't, because we didn't make them.

- And let's not forget everyone's favorite gunman, Plaxico Burress, who escaped from Alcatraz and went to the Jets. Anyone watch that game Sunday night? Cool...

- The possible upshot of this is that with Smith, Burress, and Boss all gone, Manning won't have many of his favorite receivers. Maybe he'll be forced to throw the ball less. Which would be a delight, since he lead the league in interceptions last year. 25.

- And the icing on this cake? Last night, Jean-Francois Phillipe Pierre-Paul (that's also possibly not his real name), a Giant himself, got tangled up with Terrell Thomas, among the only Giant defenders who isn't like 45 years old (I'm looking at you, Osi...*), and tore Thomas' ACL. Out for the season.

Tom Coughlin, I see you have new glasses. "The better to watch this season go straight to shit, my dear!"

Granted, the Giants still beat Chicago last night, but this is only because Jay Cutler is still mending a broken heart after breaking up with that chick from the Hills who posed in a magazine in wedding dresses the week before she got dumped. Awkward.

Now you're saying, "this has nothing to do with running or beer." Oh, but you're wrong! Every Sunday between August and February, my day is carefully structured: 1) Running 2) Football and Beer. It's not a very complex structure, but still; sometimes I throw in some bar snacks. The point is, I don't mean to be extreme, but this is what I live for. Run long, reward self with football and beer. It just looks like this season, I'll be drinking much, much more beer...

* Umenyiora will actually be 30 in November. I feel like a dinosaur.

Sunday Wrap Up: The Lazy Long Distance Runner

2011-08-21T14:38:00.006-04:00
I garner some raised eyebrows when I tell people I'm lazy. They're surprised not because I come across as some giant-sized Kelly Ripa, bastion of ceaseless enthusiasm for everything (also, I don't have an outie, thank God), and certainly not because I have a body that looks like I'm always on the go. But people tend to think long-distance running requires a certain element of... industrious. Totally wrong. Long-distance running only requires stubbornness. The principle motivating factor among long distance runners of my ilk (that is, those with a penchant for cheese fries and craft beer) is the perverse, unyielding need to demonstrate to myself and others that yes, I can run long even if I'm tired/hungry/dehydrated/not exactly Shalane Flanagan's body double/mortally wounded. I run long every weekend not because I'm some kind of super motivated self-starter, but because if I'm supposed to log a certain number of miles, I'm going to do it come hell or high water (or hangover).

This stubbornness does not preclude my laziness. In fact, the laziness actually tends to enhance the stubbornness. For example, this morning I had to run 20 miles. That's, like, far. I could leave my apartment and run for 20 miles, over the Brooklyn Bridge and down the East River and through Battery Park and up the Hudson and finish it all up with a loop in Central Park. But then I'd be 20 miles away from my apartment, where food and beers and a shower live, and I'd have to get myself back. And since I'm lazy, that was really unappealing. I couldn't even put in the energy to think about getting home, on fresh legs; I'd never be motivated to actually get home after 20 miles.

But my bullheadedness meant that I did have to run 20 miles today, if only to demonstrate to everyone at the party I left at 11:00pm last night that a) I really did need to leave early, and b) I really did consider those Yueng Lings as carbs. So what is the lazy long distance runner to do?

I ran 20 miles entirely in and around Prospect Park, 2 blocks from my apartment.

For those who aren't familiar with the crown jewel of Brooklyn, one loop in Prospect Park is 3.3 miles.

For those who aren't mathematicians, that means it takes 6+ loops of Prospect Park to make 20 miles.

For those who aren't cartographers, that's 2 loops inside the park, 2 loops of the park perimeter, and 1 more loop inside the park.

For those who aren't long distance runners (lazy or otherwise), that was a terrible idea. It was beyond tedious.

But I finished the run at my front door, where I hopped immediately into the shower and promptly filled my gullet with food. Laziness rules!

Number of Miles Run This Week: 42. There was some kind of organized long run in Prospect Park today, maybe in conjunction with Team in Training. The good news was that this meant there were lots of people outside cheering, which was weird since it wasn't a race, but also sort of nice. The bad news was that the participants were running 10 miles. On my second loop of the Park, I passed the 1 mile marker for their run. A girl next to me said to her boyfriend "ughhhh, I can't believe we still have 9 more miles." Girl, try 15. Also, one of the participants was carrying a musket, wearing a powdered wig, and asking people if they'd seen the British. That's a true story.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 9. But good news - preseason football means my Sunday night beer intake will be bolstered!

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Yueng Ling, Bud Heavy, Brooklyn Lager, Abita Harvest (not to be confused with the Chapstick-like Abita Strawberry Harvest, but also not that good), Smuttynose IPA, and Kingfisher. Thank God for Kingfisher, because I was like Ben Stiller's character in Along Came Polly (minus the diarrhea) at an Indiana restaurant on Wednesday night. If I didn't have that beer to cool me off, I would have taken my top off at the restaurant. Which is definitely what you want to do when you're full of rice...

I just realized I've been watching Forrest Gump on Telemundo for the last 20 minutes. The scene that just played was the one in which (spoiler if you've never seen it, but given that this movie came out in 1994, I can't imagine anyone would be that mad if I revealed a plot point) Forrest is trying to flee the bullies and he discovers he can break free from his leg braces and run. As it played, I thought it was weird that what his girlfriend said wasn't actually "run, Forrest, run!" Turns out that's because in this version, what she said was "corre, Forrest, corre." I don't even speak Spanish. I'm just too lazy to change the channel.

Victory!

2011-08-20T08:36:00.001-04:00
(You see what I did there, with the exclamation point this time instead of the question mark?)

The GMP (that's goal marathon pace, for those of you who don't do TLAs [that's three letter acronyms]) run is one I truly dread. Sure, Yassos and mile repeats instill in me a good bit of anxiety, but during each of those workouts, you're thrown a bone in terms of recovery segments. The GMP run is mile upon mile of hitting pace, no sprints, no recovery segments, nothing to break it up. It's tedious, and more than any other workout for me, it's a mind game. If Iim struggling to get through 8 miles at this pace, how will I get through 26.2?

What a difference a week makes. I tried to tackle 7 at GMP last Sunday, after running long Saturday, and had to break it up with slower recovery mile every mile. But last night, with fresh legs coming off Thursday's yoga-only workout, I knocked out 8 on the treadmill just ahead of GMP: 7:47/mile.

I'd like to thank everyone who contributed to this success, including the TBS network, which broadcast two episodes of Seinfeld to get me through my run; the fine people of Starbucks, who supplied me with caffeine throughout yesterday afternoon and therefore got me to the gym; the girl running a 7:30 pace next to me, who kept me running fast because I didn't want to "lose" to a chick who was older than me; and the ladies who wash the gym towels - sorry about the boogers.

Oh and as for the eye chafe? Seems to have healed on its own. But I hope I come down with another mysterious ailment soon, because the eye chafe prompted my mom to send this outstanding bit of digital communiqué:

"If you're eye doesn't get better, go to the doctor. Don't screw around. That's what she said."

Lamest Injury Ever

2011-08-17T19:07:00.001-04:00
So eye chafing is a thing, apparently? I don’t know how this is possible, since I don’t wear glasses, and a Google search of various combinations of “chafing, outer corner, eye” yielded information about boating, but I assure you, my eye is chafed.

It burned like a thousand fiery suns towards the end of my 800s this morning, but frankly most parts of my body burn towards the end of track workouts so I wasn’t that concerned. Also I thought perhaps I was crying (tears of joy, from surviving track work) and the stinging was inside ye olde ‘balls. I had a hat on when I came in from the track so I didn’t get a close look at my face before I hopped in the shower (probably for the best, since I definitely didn’t wash my face before I went running, and the glorious NYC humidity has left me looking like the “before” picture in a Proactiv commercial – “It moisturizes my situation, and preserves my sexy.”) But as soon as the shower water – that Telltale Heart of post-run chaffage – hit me in the eye (uh, that’s what she said?) I knew: (I also crashed blindly into the shower wall, a tall person stumbling around a very small enclosed space, swearing. Seriously, the shower plus raw skin combo is agonizing every single time). Eye chafe.

Like all chafing, the pain subsided after a few (endless) minutes under the stream of the shower. But unlike with other kinds of chafing, I got out of the shower and applied several types of acids directly to my face. Resume agony.

I know this is getting off topic, but can we talk about this for a minute? Acid. FOR THE FACE. Salicylic acid. Alpha hydroxy acid. Does anyone even know what those things do? Haven’t we found more 21st century ways to moisturize our collective situations and preserve our mutual sexy? Doesn’t it seem a little archaic to put things with acid RIGHT IN THE NAME onto our FACES?!

In any case, this was a rather unfortunate aspect to my morning, and I suspect it stems from the fact that I sweat so much (definitely not a result of my being too lazy to wash off my mascara at night. Definitely not…). Conveniently enough, tomorrow is a rest day, so I don’t have to sweat (beyond the regular dirty subway-, humidity-, annoyingly slow moving tourist-induced commute sweat). Here’s hoping my eye doesn’t swell shut before my next scheduled run on Friday. If it does, someone ask my friend Cate what to do. Given the kinds of stuff she gets into, that actually happens to her kind of a lot (HEYO!!!!! Sorry if your mom read that, Cate. And even more sorry if she read it, but didn’t get it, so now you have to explain to her that I was making a joke about bedroom antics. Man, do I have second hand embarrassment for you right now!)

No but really, she has a lot of problems with her eyes.