Run Before the Run

Yesterday marked the first of many races in my new life as a runner.

New York City had been experiencing a heat wave, but the temperature broke to a nice, comfortable... HOT AS HELL 80-degrees at Queens Flushing Meadows Corona Park for the NYRR 5-Borough Series: Queens 10K.

The most important takeaway from this post is that I finished the race. I wasn't doing it for the time, but I'm satisfied with my overall 01:06:23 (10:42 pace over 6.2 miles). Especially considering the way I was feeling one hour, six minutes, and twenty-three seconds earlier.

Let's recap, shall we?

"I'm nauseous." I kept repeating it over and over, as if the amazingly tolerant group of people I was running with might not have heard me the seventh or eighth time. It didn't help that our driver circled around the park twice before he dropped us off (he was never in Queens before), or the fact that I didn't have enough cash on me for the ride because I was in full-on panic mode getting ready at 6am that morning. I'm pretty sure the nausea settled in because I had no idea what to expect when I entered the sea of runners at the starting line, their rippling quad and calf and other muscles I've never seen before flexing in and out in one collective movement disabling my every ability to act like a human being. Was I late? Why are people running? Why is that girl doing jumping jacks on the line for the bathroom? Why is that man doing deep, deep-seated squats? Apparently, I wasn't prepared for the run before the run. WTF. I was having enough anxiety pinning my bib to my shirt in the correct position.

But when I finally got some stretching in and a few sport beans in my system, when I finally found my way to the brown corral (which is just a nicer way of saying slow runners), and when I finally hit the ground running (literally)... I found my groove. It wasn't until mile 5 that a little demon child sprouted from my belly like a scene from Alien. Or more accurately, I felt something like a blobfish. "I can't go left. I can't go right. I can't avoid people anymore. I'm just floating." But I powered through.

Here are my lessons learned (in no particular order) for first-time race runners:

1. Hydration belts are not an invitation to grab yourself a drink from a passing runner. 
2. You do not need to remove a sweatband from your wrist in order to use it. 
3. People will not understand why you are cursing off Flo from Progressive or Ben Benson Hynundai if they don't know you are listening to Spotify. 
4. At hydration stations, don't pour your cup of water over your head if you are wearing an arm band containing your smartphone.
5. Just because there's mud on the course, does not mean you signed up for a mud run. 
6. Do not sprint to the finish line... unless you actually see it.
7. Do not mess with the power walkers. 
8. You may or may not be offered a bag of "hungry size" pretzels at the end of the race, which are magically delicious/endless. 
9. Walking through Queens Flushing Meadows Corona Park is the quicker way to get to the Lemon Ice King of Corona (and no, Kevin James will not always be there with Leah Remini).

And most importantly... 

1. Professional photos will be taken throughout the race. Make sure you don't look like an aye-aye. Here's one of mine I just ordered from marathonfoto.com. Anyone want a copy? 

So, long story short - I have quite the way to go to being ready for this half marathon. Simply put, double the distance means double the training. But I'm halfway there, and I'm happy with my progress so far. 3 months ago I never in a million years would have thought I would be able to run 6 miles uninterrupted. If I can do it, so can you! Aye-aye!

A Pleasant Prospect

Happy 100 Days! 

Back in college, 100 days was a big milestone. Looking back now, I'm not quite sure why I was celebrating 100 days left until going to live back at home with my parents (and amazing sister, but let's be real, the "Lounge" wasn't built yet), no job, no money, no flex points, and no red doors of opportunity... but nonetheless, it was a reason at the time to celebrate.

Well, I couldn't have asked for a better observance today. A 4-mile run around the outer loop at Prospect Park, perfectly timed to coincide with the Belle & Sebastian concert at the Celebrate Brooklyn! music festival in the Prospect Park bandshell. Here's a treasure map for reference:

And because all the stars are aligned with the lightning bugs in July, what's the song that's playing as I roll up to the bandshell at the end of my loop? How about The Stars of Track and Field. Let's not over-analyze the fact that this song may or may not be about a lesbian who sleeps her way to college. What about the sheer motivation in making sure my training isn't just the same emptiness that girl felt?

So, GUT CHECK. Let's go back to the reason I started this journey. Is it "working"? Hmmm. Is it easier? Sure. Did I let go of the man? Nope. It still hurts, almost every day. Constant reminders on the streets don't help. I'm coming up on a really big anniversary at the end of this month. One year since the day I walked away from that situation... physically. Emotionally is a different story.

But before you (I) give up hope, what I can say is this. Each run is so much more than getting from Point A to Point B to me now. It's a reminder that I am capable of moving forward. And what a wonderfully exhilarating feeling that is. I don't think I could have set a better goal for myself. I can't thank the people in my life right now enough for being so supportive of me. And that finish line is not going anywhere. So I'll keep running until I find it...

Some would even say, this is what dreams are made of.

HardCORE

I've been joking to a few people recently that I feel like spaghetti. Let's not get caught up in the actual shape here... I'm talking about a heaping pile of soggy starch. Like I have zero muscle content, and at any moment two dogs are going to suck me into a slobbery kiss.

I want to be al dente!

And as it turns out, a little love to my core would also help me on the track. According to Active:

Think of your body like a car. If you put a Ferrari engine (your lungs and heart) in the chassis of a compact economy car (your muscles, ligaments and bones), what's going to happen?

So after I googled the word chassis, and thanks to one of my biggest inspirations on this journey, I decided it was time to go to bootcamp. It wasn't my first gym class. I've experienced my fair share of "Butts & Guts" and "Total Body Sculpt", but this one was different. I don't even know the actual name, but I'm going to call it "Sweat Your Ass Off, You F'n Weakling".  I was supremely frustrated with myself. I knew my strengths (the cardio), and I got to intimately know my weaknesses (everything else). It was a wake up call that I need to keep working on my core, because without a core, I'm just a noodle. And I should be doing everything I can to prevent injuries and delay fatigue as I start approaching these longer runs.

And because I want you all to know that I am human (and I'm not a changed woman yet), bootcamp was followed the next day by a shameful dinner at Guy's American Kitchen & Bar in Times Square.

Let it be on the record though that while it was "shameful" because I'm supposed to be training for a half marathon and not shocking my body with fat and sodium, I'm NOT knocking Guy's eats. We've all read the NY Times review. Even people who don't live in New York City or know how to pronounce his last name have read it. I don't know why I'm feeling particularly anti-Pete Wells today, or why I'm defending Guy Fieri like he's family (who knows), but I hate this review for a couple of reasons: 1) I can't get past the rotting pumpkin featured in the cover photo, and 2) Who talks in ALL questions like that?

So here's my retort to the review (because I'm pretty sure Mr. Wells is following my blog):

Were you really expecting anything different from a man whose biggest claim to fame is a show about greasy, fried foods? Is there really such a thing as too many dips, or maybe we should just pour "ruinous sauces" all over your bland personality?  If I owned Flavor Town, would I even have invited you? And are you as awesome as the "Awesome" Pretzel Chicken Tenders? No.

Funny thing is, there's no spaghetti on the menu.

Beginner's Hurdles

Three things happened this week that took me to the next level in running rockstardom. I'm not talking about breaking records for distance or crushing pace. I'm talking:

1. Group Runs
2. Morning Miles
3. Fanny Packs

All three are attainable, my friends. I'm not sure about sustainable, but I'll report back.

GROUP RUNS

I love people, I really do. But running with them? Before this weekend, I couldn't imagine liking that so much. Picture me sweating bullets while the person next to me indiscreetly stares up at the sky to see if it just started drizzling. Or me panting so hard the person next to me politely adjusts their headphones to omit the background noise. Or me running at such a slow pace that the person "running" with me is really speed walking... backwards, like a tour guide. Well, turns out all of those things were irrational fears of mine. And by the time we hit the ground running at the first occasional Running of the Mules this weekend, I realized I felt comfortable. I could laugh and talk and run, all at the same time. Not to mention having a support system to answer all my awkward running questions. By the way, 25% of us were running commando. 

MORNING MILES

Today marked my first morning run. I set my alarm for 5:30am. Disgusting. Um, this is why I moved to New York - to never see those numbers on my non-iPhone again or hear that painful sound that makes my circadian clock bleed. But once I actually got out the door, it was pleasant. No one is out, except the runners. And as your eyes lock on the uneven sidewalk, you send telepathic thoughts, "Yeah, we're up. We own this block. We built this city with our own two quads..." Or maybe just "I hope I don't fall and break my ankle.  Is this guy going to go right, or do I have to go left? Do I have a wedgie?" Many questions arise. But the real best part about running in the morning is the simple fact that you don't have to again in the afternoon. Or the night. It's like a "Get Out of Jail Free Card" for running even though you already did it. Let's not overlook the fact that I'm still equating running to being in jail. 

FANNY PACKS

Running is not cheap. The registration fees, the tech wardrobe, the gear.. the FANNY PACKS. I always appreciated a good fanny pack. But after someone so generously loaned me theirs over the weekend, I realized why so many people opt to wear the scary blood pressure cuff instead. I guess my hips don't lie when I'm running, because that fanny pack became a second bra every other step. So immediately following the run I made my way back to the running store to purchase an arm band. And my life has never been the same since. Granted it's only been three days, but they've been a pretty solid three days. 

So grab a friend, wake him/her up early, and tighten your fanny pack if it suits your fancy. It's go time.   

Pure Imagination

"If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it. Want to change the world...

...there's nothing to it." - Willy Wonka

Last week I got to meet the man of my dreams - Gene Wilder. Sorry future husband, you will just have to accept me on one condition. I will always love the candy man. And if you happen to be a candy man, there's a 90% chance you are my future husband.

Now I could write pages and pages about Gene Wilder's dramatic (and comedic) genius, but for those of you who know me, Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory has defined my mortal existence. I dream of golden tickets every time I open a chocolate bar. I get scared I'll turn into a blueberry if I chew  gum. I lick wallpaper... um, that's not true. But I did make lickable wallpaper once when I converted my childhood home into a chocolate factory and my best friend drove me around dressed as an Oompa Loompa. Inquire within.

But what I love most about Gene Wilder as Mr. Wonka is how he had a hand in making that character as magical and mysterious as I will always remember him to be. At the event, which also happened to be a book signing for his latest romantic fiction Something to Remember You By, Gene relayed a story about one of his "demands" for taking the part.

"When I make my first entrance, I'd like to come out of the door carrying a cane and then walk toward the crowd with a limp. After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and then become deathly quiet. As I walk toward them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I'm walking on and stands straight up, by itself; but I keep on walking, until I realize that I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward, and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause."

Why did he want Wonka to make this entrance?

Because "from that time on, no one will know if I'm lying or telling the truth." 

Brilliant. And how am I going to relate this back to running? This journey is (hopefully) my most memorable entrance.  I've always wanted to keep people guessing. But I've also always wanted to give people the same faith in pure imagination that Willy Wonka gave me. And how fitting to think that my journey will end (or really just begin) at Hersheypark - one of the most popular chocolate factories in the United States. 

And for those of you who have been wondering where has Gene Wilder been hiding, having not been seen in a movie or on stage in 22 years?

"My agent has tried, but I don't like what I see. There's so much... swearing. And bombs, and fighting, and... swearing. I'd much rather write, drink some tea, give my wife a kiss, and write some more." 

A great man, and a night I will always remember. 

Now hold your breath, make a wish, count to three. Come (run) with me.

Partly Cloudy with a Chance of Progress

Today I installed my air conditioner window unit. You know what that means... summer is coming. As it gets warmer I'm getting more and more fearful of training outdoors. I sweat enough as it is in a temperature controlled environment. My advice to those people who sweat too much when they run: read this, instead of this. I would much rather like to think I'm just losing cute little beads of plasma instead of having hyperhidrosis. 

But before I get ahead of myself, I really couldn't have asked for a more perfect weekend. Let's erase Friday night - I mean, doesn't the sky eventually run out of water?! There really is nothing like a partly cloudy seventy degree day. I'm talking straight up fluffy cumulonimbus. None of that overcast stratus BS.

Or lying on your back in Prospect Park looking up at this with great company...

And running on a partly cloudy seventy degree day? Even better. I almost scared myself today when I chose to go on a run to get rid of Sunday Syndrome instead of staying in to soak in my "Sundays suck" sadness. Who am I?

On a random sidenote (because there really is no other way to sidenote here), I cracked an egg this morning and a chicken fetus came out... like way past the yolk phase. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

And never underestimate the power of Under Armour HeatGear activewear.

[BONUS CAT]

Suffering is Optional

"Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

Say you're running and you start to think, Man this hurts, I can't take it anymore. The hurt part is an unavoidable reality, but whether or not you can stand anymore is up to the runner himself."

Today I had this overwhelming urge to go to Barnes and Noble after work. I love that labyrinth of literature. I didn't have a certain book in mind to purchase, I just knew I couldn't stand one more subway ride home reading AM New York or making to-do lists over and over in my mind while simultaneously thinking about all of the communicable diseases I was going to attract by holding the pole on the train.  I wasn't going to remember to use hand sanitizer, even though I would make a silent pact with myself to start... next ride.

And then I found this:

The back cover (yes, I do judge a book by its cover) reads, "An intimate look at writing, running, and the incredible way they intersect." IDENTITY CRISIS! Am I Haruki Murakami?

And just like Haru (I imagine we would be on a nickname basis if I ever met him), I am creating my own life lessons with each and every run I write about - by actually putting my body in motion and discovering that suffering is optional.

I've got some fun runs scheduled for the next few months to help me train, kiddos. Want to join? And when everyone decides to stop celebrating the most amazing gifts of matrimony and childbirth [to be read with a hint of sarcasm and jealousy], let's go for a run!

Queens 10k - July 21
Color Run NJ - August 31
Electric Run NY - September 28