The Ultimate Beer Post

Longtime readers of el bloggo know that I am a craft beer enthusiast. Heck, one of my post labels is "I run so I can drink beer." My Facebook friends know most of my pictures fall into two categories: beer and cats.

This is the story of how I came to be a partner in a microbrewery.

In July 2009 I was at the Michigan Brewers Guild Summer Beer Festival in Ypsilanti. My friend Patti and I were cruising around the park sampling great beers when I spotted this fellow:

YES YES YES YES YES YES

I ran up to him and enthusiastically yelled, "YES!" I was perhaps a bit too exuberant; I was a couple of hours into a beer festival, after all. I said that I lived in Chelsea and it would be a craft beer lover's dream come true if there was a brewery in town within walking distance of my house.

He gave me a business card (I still have it) and I got on the mailing list for the potential business. Over the course of the next year I received occasional updates as he began formulating a business plan, and when he mentioned acquiring a pool of investors, that was the first time it occurred to me I could be one of them. Wouldn't that be incredible! Not only to have a microbrewery in my town, but one in which I had a stake? Even better.

I went to my first potential investors' meeting in October 2010. Papers were filled out, information was dispersed, and the months went by. In the summer of 2011 there was a perfect storm of fortuitous financial circumstances, and I was able to purchase a share in the nascent Chelsea Alehouse.

The period after becoming an official investor was agonizing. Now that I was in, I wanted that brewery OPEN AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. Not so fast. First, there was the matter of finding a suitable space. Once the location had been secured, it had to be built out, which required turning a dismal, dirty industrial building into something light and welcoming. Then there were ENDLESS permits that had to be acquired from local, state, and federal agencies.

Work on the space crept forward during the summer and fall of 2012. I would occasionally find a reason to go past the location to see what had changed. Windows went in, drains and drywall were installed, corridors appeared, paint went on the walls, and the brewing tanks were settled in place. When Chris brewed the first batch of beer, I knew that opening day was mere weeks away. My excitement reached a fever pitch; the waiting was excruciating!

The week before Christmas, I received word: the brewery would officially be open for the first time on Friday, December 21. This was a "soft opening" event for the partners and Founding Mug Club Members.

That afternoon, I drove home and did what I had been dreaming about for a very, very long time:

I walked the half-mile to the brewery I own a little piece of (it took 8.5 minutes) and settled in at the gleaming bar with my mug.

Beer + reading material = awesome

I stayed there for FIVE HOURS. I took full advantage of all three beers available on tap at the time, and walked...okay, perhaps stumbled....home in a happy drunken haze. The whole evening had been joyous. I remember at one point finding Chris's wife and we exchanged an enthusiastic hug as I exclaimed, "I can't believe it's finally happening! This is so exciting!"

More visits to the brewery over the holidays followed, and I was able to celebrate my 39th birthday there on December 28 with a group of friends.

Happy birthday to me!

After years of declining interest in celebrating getting older (who wants to acknowledge they're closing in on 40, after all), this was the best birthday I'd had in a long time.

These days one can find me at the brewery almost every afternoon on days it's open (five days a week right now). All the staff know me; I said to them on that first night, "You're going to see a lot of me." I don't even have to tell anyone which mug is mine: #3.

My "barbed wire" mug

I chose that mug out of the hundreds available because the lines remind me of barbed wire, which reminds me of hashing, because one often runs into (sometimes quite literally) barbed wire on trail. I took the Redhead with me to the brewery on mug-picking night (this was prior to our weekly viewing of "A Game of Thrones") and she was the one who pointed out the resemblance to barbed wire.

I was at the brewery last Friday after work, and the setting sun was shining through the big western window. (I found it kind of depressing that every other time I've been there, it's been cloudy. Hooray for Michigan winter.) The sunlight made all the glasses sparkle and the taps gleam and I thought it was just about the prettiest thing I'd ever seen.

Sad iPhone camera with zero dynamic range did not accurately capture the scene. It was really, really bright.

Thus far having the brewery in town has been all I hoped for and more. Even if I wasn't an investor it would still be a wonderful addition to the local scene. I can't wait for warm weather and the opening of the outdoor patio, being able to walk home in daylight, bringing the hashers in for an on-after, and, of course, continued visits of my own. Many, many visits.

I wouldn't end this post without pertinent information!

Chelsea Alehouse Brewery
420 North Main St, Suite 100
Chelsea, MI

Facebook: Chelsea Alehouse
Twitter: @ChelseaAlehouse

Come on down. Sit for a spell. Have a few pints. Chances are, I'll be there.

Detroit Half Marathon 2012 Edition

Lots of people standing around in the cold and dark at 6:15 am: it must be a fall marathon

In 2007 I made the Detroit Half Marathon my first substantial distance race. I had never run 13 miles in a row in my life and I signed up on a whim to prove to myself I could run farther than a 5K. Well, as we all know, that race led to seven more half marathons, five marathons, a Boston Qualifying effort, and too many 5Ks and 10Ks for me to count (though I could look them up, I'm too lazy).

On Sunday, October 21, I was back in downtown Detroit, where it all began five years ago, to run my ninth half marathon. I had put in the weeks of training necessary and I felt physically ready, even if I knew I wasn't going to be running very fast. I anticipated finishing in 2:10, though I really wished I could finish faster than my time from the Dexter-Ann Arbor Half in June (2:04:22).

The race started at 7:00 which meant we had to be parked downtown by 6:00 in order to avoid street closures (which meant we were up at 4:15 and left just after 5:00...ugh). I use a parking lot in the Greektown area for events like this, because it's easy to get to and I sneak into downtown off I-375 to the east, thereby avoiding the traffic jams caused by everyone trying to take the only way they know into town (Woodward Avenue). We zoomed past a gigantic line of cars backed up on I-75 waiting to get off at Grand River (SUCKERS) and reached my parking lot (almost empty and $5.00 for the whole day) without ever having to wait behind another car.

I'd tell you where to find it but then I'd have to kill you. MY PARKING LOT. MINE.

We walked to the starting corral area and I hopped into a porta-potty that had NO LINE to take my third crap of the morning. The coffee I made was doing its job a little too well. Then it was time to...stand around for a while.

Trying to stay warm

I wore a crazy bright shirt so I was easy to see

At 7:00 the first wave of runners took off. My wave didn't cross the start line until ten minutes later. I settled into my normal cruising speed and looked forward to the miles ahead. The visual of a long line of runners, backlit by the rising sun and ascending the Ambassador Bridge at mile 3 was, as always, the visual highlight of the race. The view from the top of the bridge was beautiful. We descended into Windsor, Ontario and at mile 7 entered the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel for the "Underwater Mile." I HATE the Underwater Mile. It's hot, stuffy, loud, and smells funny. When the cool, fresh air hits your face upon exiting the tunnel at mile 8, it feels SO good. People all around me were audibly going "Ahhhhhh." Shortly after leaving the tunnel, I spotted the Engineer in the crowd. I veered over to the barricade to give him a high five; then it was back to business. Five miles to go!

Around mile 10 my knees started aching. This bothered me as my knees have never been a source of discomfort in the past. I felt great otherwise, knew I was almost done, and forged on toward the end. I kept my pace steady in the final quarter mile and finished strong, stopping Garmy at 2:09 and change. While I was slightly disappointed, I knew that stopping for a bathroom break at 8.5 miles hadn't helped my time.

I found the Engineer and we went back to my car where I changed into fresh clothes. We walked backwards along the marathon course to the Motown-Ann Arbor hash kennel's beer check at mile 24.5, where I got to enjoy a well-deserved Stone Ruination IPA. (We were handing out PBR to the runners; I raided the secret stash of good beer.)

Every job well done deserves a beer!

Watching the tide of humanity stream past for an hour and a half cemented my resolve: I am going to run another marathon before the end of 2013. I will turn 40 next year and this is the goal I have set for myself before I hit that milestone.

The same weekend of the race, I dog-sat for my friends' little dog. I brought her to my house that Friday afternoon and...well, various hijinks and scuffles and shenanigans ensued. Bouhaki hid (I barely saw him all weekend), Darwin couldn't have cared less, but Melvin was VERY PUT OUT at the presence of this INTERLOPER in his house. Annabelle was sitting on my lap Friday afternoon and Melvin was circling my chair like a shark. He paused to glare at her and I snapped a picture. The Engineer turned it into a LOLCAT.

Feel the rage!

#SWATED

I am just going to squeeze under the July wire with this post, which is mostly going to be about something that happened in June. A few days after my last post (June 16) I flew to New York City and from there I traveled up to northern Vermont for my third running of the Green Mountain Relay.

My team, Slow White and the Eleven Dwarves, didn't field a team at last year's race. It had been two years since I took in the scenery of rural Vermont and I was very excited to return. There were familiar as well as unfamiliar faces at the van rental place on the morning of June 22. I knew over the next 48 hours I was going to make some amazing new friends.

The most notable thing that happened on the ride to St. Albans was I joined Twitter after staunchly refusing to do so for a long time. The peer pressure finally got to me and I caved in about halfway there. The title of this post refers to the hashtag for our team...and boy, did we get a LOT of use out of that hashtag over the weekend.

I had a wonderful time, ran faster than I expected, and my team won our division. These two pictures capture the experience the best:

Rocks. There were rocks everywhere. This is a big piece of schist.

Rural scenery. You can't beat that.

The weather was perfect, the company was awesome, and I can't wait to do it again next year.

On July 4 I departed the US for the first time in ten years for my vacation to...

SCOTLAND!

I saw fantastic rocks, drank a lot of beer, went hashing, ate some of the most delicious food I've ever had (including haggis), visited whisky distilleries, and...well, had one of the best times of my life.

It wouldn't be a trip to Europe without at least one ruined church (Elgin Cathedral)

...and it wouldn't be a trip for me anywhere without good beer. Brew Dog Brewery, Aberdeen. I'm enjoying a Sink the Bismarck barleywine, at 41% ABV one of the world's strongest beers.

Ullapool harbor

I haven't been writing about running, because since the Green Mountain Relay, there hasn't been much running happening. I'm not training for anything, but I still get out the door a few mornings a week. It's not enough to say anything profound about. Soon enough, I will be back on a training schedule, this time for the Detroit Half Marathon in early October. Summer is half over, time to look forward to fall (and maybe some relief from this heat).

Dexter-Ann Arbor Half Marathon: Redemption!

As many of you already know, I suffered a catastrophic injury during the Cleveland Half Marathon on May 15, 2011. The summer that followed was a complete wash, filled with no running, Frankenboot, and physical therapy. When I finally did resume running in August, it was as if the previous four years had never happened. I was literally back where I had begun--fitness-wise, weight-wise. It was a depressing few months as I struggled to rebuild my base and lose weight. I gradually rediscovered the joy of running, which culminated in The Streak: 13 straight days of running in late December-early January. Even though The Streak came to an end, it was enough. Enough to set me back on track and focused on a goal: to run another half marathon in the spring. I wanted to return to Cleveland to give that race a smackdown for what happened to me a year earlier, but it conflicted with my 15th college Reunion. I decided to run the Dexter-Ann Arbor Half Marathon instead.

I whipped up another spreadsheet based on Hal Higdon's Novice II half marathon training plan and got down to business at the end of March. Things moved along smoothly and I found myself doing unexpectedly well in a few local races, including one where I took home my first age group win in FOREVER.

I was feeling confident. My last two long runs were stellar and I was, like, "BRING IT" to the Dx-A2.

I was ready to give the finger to my calf injury, to last summer's lack of running, to Frankenboot, to weight gain, to the races I wanted to run but couldn't, to the runs where I felt like I was dying after two miles, to everything that brought me low over the previous year. I was ready for a comeback.

Race morning yesterday was crisp and dry. I was oh so thankful considering the weather a week earlier: 90 degrees and humid. I ran a bit on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday and each run was like a waterlogged death march. I despaired that the weather for the half marathon would bring more of the same misery. Not so! 58 and clear were the order of the day.

A quick trip to Ann Arbor, park the car, hop on the bus, and 20 minutes later the Engineer and I were in Dexter almost an hour and a half early for the start of the race. A lot of sitting around ensued before we were ready to join the crowds at the start.

My strategy for the race was to join with the 2:05 pace group, stick with it as long as I could, and either fade back (boo) or stay fresh and finish under 2:05 (yay). I've never purposefully latched on to a pace group before, so this was new territory. The race got underway and I shuffled forward with the rest of the mob, finding my feet, easing into my stride, until I was cruising along at a nice comfortable pace. I forced myself to slow down and stay behind the pace group despite my legs wanting more. The sun played hide and seek behind some clouds, and the course rolled and dipped on the terrain adjacent to the Huron River. I managed the hills with less trouble than usual, and enjoyed the shade provided by the trees when it was available. The miles slid past effortlessly: 5, 6, 7, 8, 9...I drank Gatorade and poured water on my head, ate a couple of Gu packets...soon enough, we were at mile 10 and I thought, all right, let's see what's what and gave my legs a bit of gas. I moved in front of the pace group and that was the last time I saw them. At mile 12 as we rounded the sharp curve to the south and merged onto Main St., I said to the Engineer: "Here we go." One mile left, and most of it uphill. Time to see what my legs could do after running further than I had in a year. I pressed onward and the final half mile uphill loomed. I chugged along, and with the finish line banner in sight and about 400 meters to go my legs suddenly turned to mush and I felt as if I were being dragged down. Oh, for fuck's sake! I gritted my teeth and willed myself to put one foot in front of the other as the finish drew closer. And then it was over. Garmy said 2:04:22, so I had beaten my goal of 2:05. Even though my time was well off my best (1:43:01), I was happy. I had exceeded my goal and done better than I had in Cleveland a year ago.

Once the race was over, there was only one thing left to do:

BEER! Arbor Brewing Company, Ann Arbor, MI.

Moist

For the record, I hate that word (also: "panties." UGH). However, it is the most accurate description of my run this morning. Fog hugged the ground and the ceiling of clouds hung low. A few random raindrops fell on my hair and face, and I felt as if I were in a grocery store mister; it was delightfully cool and refreshing. I managed 5.3 miles of my planned 6, cutting it short because of a bathroom emergency: the Beast of the GI Tract awakened around mile 4. Rain began coming down much harder as well when I had about 1/2 mile left, and cemented my decision to break for home sooner than expected. I felt much stronger than I did last week even though my pace was glacial. At least I didn't want to curl up on the floor when I got home.

I'm in my Ohio hometown for the weekend to celebrate my little nephews' birthdays. Yesterday was the big party, after which my parents and I visited a local beer-and-burgers establishment for dinner, where I enjoyed a Bluegrass Brewing Bourbon Barrel Ale (pictured). I decided I deserved it for surviving 3 hours of stampeding, shrieking, crying, whining, yelling little kids.

I finally got my training plan for Dexter-Ann Arbor typed up and printed out. All in all, it's just another spreadsheet on the wall. Ten weeks to the race!

Thursday Thoughts: March Onward!

Howdy, folks.

Yes, I admit it's been a good long while since I last posted. There's too much to say, so I shall simply show.

Cat antics: Boo "helps" me fold laundry. SOCK ATTACK!

More cat antics: Darwin beats up on his favorite cat toy.

I reorganized my entire T-shirt collection. This one is from a cross-country invitational my sophomore year in high school (which my team won, by the way). Of COURSE I kept it...it's a priceless relic!

I did the American Lung Association Fight for Air Stair Climb at the Renaissance Center in Detroit for the third time. 1,035 steps in 12:28!

Red and I have done many midday runs together. We started with a mile on the University of Michigan track and are now running 3.5M on the sidewalk. The weather has been very cooperative.

Many delicious beers were consumed. These are two different IPAs at the Corner Brewery in Ypsilanti. I also visited a new brewery in South Lyon, Witch's Hat, for the first time.

I have hashed more in the last month than I have in a long while. I am now up to 66 hashes with my home kennel. This picture of me and the Engineer was at a weekday evening hash in Toledo.

In other news:

• I have lost about 15 pounds on Weight Watchers thus far
• I am running four to five days a week, perhaps 20 miles a week total.
• I registered for the Dexter-Ann Arbor Half Marathon on June 3.
• I am finally starting to feel like a "real runner" again.

Canal Days 5K: Dead F-ing Last! (And Proud of It)

I have begun a new phase in my running career, or, my running career which is defined by not running for the forseeable future. Thus, I downgraded my desires for Saturday's Canal Days 5K (New Haven, Indiana; small-town festivals RULE) from "running really slowly" to "walking." It turned out I was the only walker. The small field took off at the start and I watched the clump of runners quickly leave me behind. I wasn't alone, however; I had the sweep vehicle accompanying me the whole way. "Vehicle" in this case was a golf cart belonging to the New Haven Police Department, piloted by an amiable officer with whom I made jovial small talk for the duration of the race.

I had vigorously mowed my lawn with my reel mower on Thursday afternoon, and my calf had reminded me all day Friday it was not happy about being treated badly. It was still complaining as I began briskly walking the 5K, and I was forced to limp almost immediately. It was uncomfortable but not unbearable, and I forged onward. The afflicted area sent out a few major bolts of pain, but nothing, nothing like what I had felt during Cleveland or the weeks afterward.

Bringing up the rear in a race was a novel experience. I have finished last in races before, though not since 1989, when I dragged my exhausted ass across the finish line of the OHSAA Cross-Country Regional race on an 85-degree day in late October. This time, however, I wasn't part of a high school team that was trying to qualify for the state meet. I was out for a stroll on a cool, if humid, summer morning.

Law enforcement held up a HUGE line of cars at a major intersection until I passed, which caused me much embarrassment as there were a lot of pissed off motorists waiting for me to hobble by.

I waved and smiled at a lot of people who were waiting for the Canal Days Parade to start in downtown New Haven. I felt like a mini celebrity!

Let me just state for the record: walking three miles seems to take FOREVER. I was glad when the high school came into view and I knew I was almost done. The Engineer was there, too, and when he saw me coming he ran out to meet me and we crossed the finish line together.

I wasn't dejected or mopey about my 50-minute time nor the fact that I had finished dead fucking last nor that I couldn't run. This injury...it is what it is, and I have to accept it as such and look towards rehabilitation and healing.

Another bright spot in the morning was seeing Holly (Rust Belt Runner) again. She told me about this race a while back, otherwise I would not have known about it. I was planning on heading to Indiana last weekend anyway, so the logistics worked out perfectly.

Post-race

At the finish line there was a huge box of free T-shirts for a Craigslist-like service provided by the local newspaper. Since I love random T-shirts (trucks, bacon, Cryptosporidium, particle physics, to name a few) I couldn't resist grabbing a hot pink one. I will now be able to advertise Bobslist in southeast Michigan.

In a few hours the Engineer and I were on our way south to Indianapolis for the Independent Music and Arts Festival. Last year, it was a brutal 95+ degrees and sauna-like humidity. This year, it was MUCH nicer.

Of course, there was beer: first, lunch at the Brugge Brasserie (mussels were eaten), followed by a visit to Sun King Brewing.

I left with one growler filled.

The next item on the running agenda is...well, more not running. Slow rehabbing is where I'm heading, I believe.

20 on 20

Last weekend I was visiting my ancestral homeland in northeast Ohio and when I'm three weeks out from a marathon and I find myself in the Cleveland area, you know what that means:

TOWPATH TRAIL TWENTY MILER!

Flat as a pancake, no traffic, and with an overabundance of scenery...what could be better?

I was up at 7:00 am Saturday the 20th (hence the title of this post) and on the way to the trail at 7:30. When I arrived shortly before 8:00, there was a scant smattering of cars in the parking lot at the Lock 39 trailhead, which all but assured I would see almost no one else on the path.

Solitude. That's how I roll.

I trotted off at an easy 9:30/mile and allowed my mind and legs to go on autopilot as I listened to my iPod. I kept an eye out for birds and was rewarded with sightings of a red-tailed hawk, a northern flicker, a downy woodpecker, cardinals, chickadees, juncos, blue jays, and mallards. The last time I ran here (March) I saw wood ducks, but no such luck this time.


I turned around ten miles in just after passing the Brandywine ski area in Sagamore Hills. I took a pit stop at mile 11, stripped off my jacket (it was now over 50 degrees) and convinced my weary legs to start moving again. I had nine more miles to cover.

A few weeks ago I trotted fifteen and a half miles and felt hardly a twinge from any body part for the duration of the run. I felt so good I even managed to pull off a couple of sub-9:00 miles at the very end. Not so this time. Everything was protesting loudly, from the balls of my feet to my little toes to my ankles to my calf muscles to my knees to my hips to my back. I forced myself to run four miles straight through to mile 15 whereupon my reward was to walk that entire mile, leaving me with only four miles to finish the run. I made another pit stop at the canal visitor's center with 1.75 miles to go (my GI issues were in rare form that day) and then gritted my teeth and plodded onward. I was so glad to see the information kiosk by the path up to the parking lot come into view. Three and a half hours after I started, it was over. It was the toughest, slowest 20-miler I have ever done, but I got it done.

In less than three weeks I will have to run that far and then 10K more. I am resigned to the fact that this race is going to hurt, and hurt a lot.  This haphazard training season was not to my benefit. However, my body is holding up (mostly) and I am determined to gut this one out. I may have to downshift into a walk/run pattern, which I have never done. So be it. This will be my fifth marathon, and I have nothing to be embarrassed about.

And now, some pictures:

 If you dismantle something historic, you had better make sure you put it back together correctly. There was a construction project taking place at one of the original canal structures, and blocks like this were stacked all over the place, each one marked with chalk.

Left Hand Brewing's Twin SIsters Double IPA. Lunch at the B Spot in Woodmere  before I departed for Michigan on Sunday. I love me some IPAs.

And because there aren't enough cat pictures on the Internet:

Bouhaki helps me fold the Mount Everest of laundry.

Darwin is the perfect lap cat, right down to the question mark tail.

I will be returning to the ancestral homeland with the Engineer for Thanksgiving. A visit to Thirsty Dog Brewing has been placed at the top of my list of Things To Do.

This morning it was unusually warm (58 degrees) and the temperature crept up to 64 by the afternoon. Needless to say, for November in Michigan, it was odd. I took advantage of the balmy conditions and walked to and from my yoga class after work (2 miles round trip). Now, however, I can hear rain pattering on the window next to me and the wind blowing up the driveway. The cold front is moving through. Tomorrow's high will barely reach the low 40s. 

That's the Midwest for you! Summer one day and winter the next.

Weight: holding steady at 181. No loss, but no gain, either, and that's a good thing, especially after a weekend with the family.

If You Brew It They Will Come

I have no idea if the title of this post has been used as an advertising slogan, somewhere, sometime, but three rounds into my stint at the bar at Three Floyds Brewing in Munster, Indiana, I was suddenly struck by inspiration and I felt the need to announce this brilliant phrase of my own devising to my companion. Loudly.

In addition to Three Floyds, I also visited Bell's Eccentric Cafe, Two Brothers Brewing, and Old Hat Brewery. We probably would have stopped at Dark Horse Brewing, too, but it was too late.

It was an incredible weekend of new brew discoveries. The Ice Grille from Three Floyds was a delicious find.

But that's not what my weekend was about. It was about THE MOST AWESOME LONG RUN EVER! MYSTERY GUEST LOCATION REVEALED! (sort of.)

WHERE WAS SUN RUNNER?

I'm on a boat! OK, not really. I wish I was on that boat...with my nautical theme pashmina afghan.

Best picture of the set. If you can't figure it out by now...

Look closely: there is a dog on that custom trailer. He looked as if he were having the time of his life.

There was a major race (half marathon) going on. I inadvertently fell in with the racers around mile 2.5 of my run and hung with them for about 4 miles. Let me tell you all, that was a HUGE boost. Even though I wasn't racing, I had the benefit of the live entertainment and all the cheering. I did NOT take advantage of the multiple water/Gatorade stops and wet sponge handout. Hello, serious breach of runner etiquette! I refused to take what was not rightfully mine. I could wait for a water fountain (although the first two I tried to use didn't work, and that was a massive problem as I desperately needed water to wash down my Gu).

I ran 16 miles total in just over 2.5 hours. It was an incredible run. What a treat.

So, savvy readers, in which major U.S. city did I do my long run this past weekend? Facebook friends, keep out of this one! No fair spilling the beans!

I have another 8 miles on the schedule for tomorrow...must go to bed now...

8 Before 8 Redux

Two years ago I wrote about running 8 miles before work for the first time. This morning I found myself back at it, having reached the point in my schedule where my midweek runs begin creeping up in duration. I wasn't especially thrilled about the prospect of dragging myself away from my comfy bed and cuddly cats at 5:30 am, but the shit must get done! I even went to bed at 10:00 pm to ensure I was rested.

We are far enough removed from the summer solstice that leaving the house before 6:00 am means the streets are dimly lit and more than likely the streetlights are still on. Soon enough I will have to start wearing my safety vest (and let's not even get into the coming cold weather and all the equipment required to survive it) . This morning, though, I stepped out into the cool blue predawn light unencumbered and ready to run.

Things rolled along smoothly and before I knew it I was already half done. The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon and the clouds were glowing pink and orange. Shortly after mile 6 I was forced to make a pit stop at one of my emergency port-a-potties (the one at the high school athletic fields). I took the opportunity to walk through the dew-saturated grass. There was a blanket of mist draped over the untended meadow beyond the edge of the field and somewhere beyond the trees I heard a sandhill crane send its rattling call into the quiet air. A small flock of herring gulls shuffled through the wet grass away from me (making me long to be on vacation again, where those gulls are ubiquitous). It was a lovely, perfect morning for a run.

In two weeks my Tuesday run goes up to 9 miles, and two weeks after that to 10. I am steeling myself for getting up even earlier, but the alternative-- running after work-- is even more unpleasant. This summer has not been kind (unlike last year). It has been hot and humid consistently, and the temperatures in the afternoons have been dangerous and brutal. I have abandoned my Thursday evening running group until cooler temperatures prevail. Given the choice between running at 6:00 am when the sun is not up and it is a tolerable 60 degrees or running at 6:00 pm under blazing sun and a broiling 85 degrees...Yeah. Not much to debate there. After a couple of blissful nights of sleeping with the windows open and leaving the air conditioning off during the day, tomorrow it's going to be 90 degrees again.

I'll be running my five miles at 5:45 am, thankyouverymuch.

In other news, last week I was moping heavily because I was not on vacation any more. Luckily, something happened on Friday which was the perfect way to shake me out of my funk:

The Michigan Brewers Guild Summer Beer Festival! I hit the festival around 6:30 pm just as a tremendous thunderstorm crashed down upon us. It cleared up eventually and my sweetie and I spent the next two hours cruising the festival and sampling a few of Michigan's finest microbrews. My favorites of the day were Old Hat Brewery Peanut Butter Stout (the only beer I had twice) and Arbor Brewing Company's Buzzsaw Massacre multiple-dry-hopped IPA. Good Lord, that was delicious. (Other notables: Corner Brewery Demetrius Barrel Aged Sour Double IPA, Right Brain Ancho Chile Chocolate Porter, and a bourbon barrel aged stout I can't remember the name of.) After 15 3- to 4-ounce samples everything started to blur together. The festival was closing down for the evening by then so we went and ate a huge amount of sushi for dinner. Amazingly I was up at 5:15 am Saturday morning as planned for my 10-mile run with the Redhead in East Lansing. After a post-run breakfast of fried egg on toast prepared by Spike, I returned home refreshed and recharged. As if the previous evening's beerstravaganza hadn't been enough, my sweetie and I hit Original Gravity Brewing in Milan for lunch and more brews.

In the fake living room set up near one of the serving tents at the festival.

On the schedule this weekend: 16 miles, possibly being run in a totally awesome place (to be revealed in a later post)!

Thursday Thoughts: Tan and Rested

I'm still on vacation, though it is quickly and sadly drawing to a close. I will be departing Saturday morning.

In the meantime I am baking myself on the beach into an advanced state of brownness. Certain people who know me IRL, get ready to be shocked.

In conjunction with the roasting (and such roasting is taking place even with SPF 30 liberally applied every day), I am maintaining a high volume of adult beverage consumption befitting one who is on vacation. Yesterday I visited the brewery of Cape Cod Beer, purchased a growler of their IPA, and finished said container off today while enjoying my fried shrimp, fried clam, and onion ring lunch on the rental house deck overlooking the ocean. (Those of you who are my Facebook friend saw pictorial evidence of such.)

I have been liberally hitting the "mark all as read" button on my iPhone's Google Reader, meaning almost every single blog I subscribe to has been shoved unread into the discard heap. The only running blogs I have bothered to actually read this week have been those of the Redhead and Viper. There is too much sunning, reading of large books, and birdwatching to be done for me to be reading all of my usual blogs.

As far as running goes, I have run 32 miles in the past 6 days and I have 7 on the schedule for tomorrow. Today I did a tempo run, and pulled off an 8:16 mile without much trouble. That is a welcome development. For too long I felt as if my speed had deserted me. It's creeping back...slowly. Grand Rapids and my second BQ attempt await.

Now back to my vodka tonic...

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Cleveland Half Marathon

Prerace: hanging around in our expendable clothes

One of the last things I said to my dad as we stood in the crowd assembled for the start of the Cleveland Marathon & Half Marathon around 6:55 am Sunday was:

"Last year at this time I was completely freaking out."

Indeed. Exactly one year ago I had saddled myself with the goal to end all goals: qualify for the Boston Marathon or else. I was about to run the most important race of my budding career and I was nervous as hell. The subsequent three and three-quarters hours were going to make or break me.

We all know how that turned out.

What a difference a year makes. With Boston four weeks in the past, my running life has taken on a leisurely pace. Oddly, however, I am running stronger and better than I was during my training for Boston. I feel amazing.

So. For this year's installment of the Cleveland races, I was merely going to run the half marathon. Nevertheless, my goal this time was similarly important: pacing my dad to a sub-2:00 finish. I was 99% sure I could accomplish this. After all, my half marathon PR is 1:43:01. Still...there was a little kernel of doubt in the back of my mind which whispered: "You haven't run more than 10 miles since Boston. You barely managed a 2:00 half there. Are you sure you can do this?" I fired back: "I have been enjoying running more in the past two weeks than I have for a long time. I feel great. Of course I can do this."

Ya gotta believe, people!

Just before the start

The weather was beautiful and ideal for running: about 50 degrees, a very slight breeze, no precipitation. It was 7:00 and the sun was rising in the east. Unlike last year when I was a bundle of nervous energy, this time I was completely calm and relaxed. I was just going for a Sunday morning jog with Dad.

Mile 1 was slow: about 9:30. It was to be expected. I knew we had to start chipping away at that deficit immediately, however. I bumped up the pace until we were under 9:00/mile.

Crossing the historic Lorain-Carnegie Bridge to the West Side. You can barely see it in this picture, but the statue on the right has been crowned with a Cavs headband.

By the time we hit Tremont at mile 4 we were cruising at around 8:45/mile. The crowds were sparse, and I thought wistfully of my last two marathons (NYC and Boston) where there were people shoulder to shoulder almost the entire way. The folks who were out at 7:45 on a Sunday were very enthusiastic, though. We passed by the West Side Market and St. Ignatius. We hit the halfway point in Ohio City, and then it was on to Lakewood. We made the turn onto Edgewater Dr. just before mile 9, veered onto the Shoreway shortly thereafter, and then it was one long slog back into the city. There was a long uphill during mile 11 that taxed me more than I expected. Dad got out in front of me by about 20 meters. I did not remember that nasty slope from last year.

On the Shoreway around mile 11.

The Main Avenue Bridge, Mile 12

The inclined stretch of road pictured (blurrily) above was the last major hurdle before the end. Once we crested the bridge and hit downtown on the other side, it was all out to the finish. I had peeked at my watch enough to know we were going to come in under 2:00 without any trouble. Dad was hanging back and I suspected something was going awry. I slowed until he caught up to me and then I said we only had about half a mile to go. He said his quad was cramping. It was just another couple of turns onto St. Clair and E. 9th and then we were on the homestretch on Lakeside Ave. Memories of hurtling down this same piece of pavement a year earlier washed over me. How light and easy I felt this time, how full of energy! I cruised in for a 1:56:54 official time, and Dad was a couple of seconds behind me. We did it! We had finished in under two hours.

After the race. The giant red thing behind us is the Free Stamp, a local landmark.

A short while later, we were able to see the men's marathon winner come in.

And then, of course: BEER. Mine was a Great Divide Espresso Oak Aged Yeti Imperial Stout.

Speaking of beer...this is what I am enjoying at the moment. Thirsty Dog Cerberus (Akron, Ohio). I must give thanks to Viper for bringing this beer to my attention. I found this tasty brew at Warehouse Beverage on Mayfield Rd. in South Euclid, if anyone's interested.

I already have my next marathon training schedule stuck to my fridge. I have decided to run the early weeks of the schedule repeatedly until the real thing starts in late June. That way I can keep my base miles up and get some speed work in at the same time. This summer is going to be Serious Training. No more fooling around. Grand Rapids is going to be Cleveland all over again: qualify for Boston or else!

Race stats:
Official time: 1:56:54 (8:55/M)
Age group: 88/1145
Females: 514/6986
Overall: 1410/12449

Tease

Because I just know you're all waiting for something relating to the Boston Marathon (race report forthcoming; I just ordered an incredibly expensive CD of all my Official Race Photos and I'd like to use some of them in my post, so I'm going to wait until that arrives; for $100 it should be here TODAY and hand-delivered by Ryan Hall and Brian Sell¹), I'm going to throw y'all a wee bone. And because this is me we're talking about here, it should come as NO surprise this is the picture I have chosen to represent my day:

Victory tastes like a Harpoon IPA served cold in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

1: The fact that I just name-dropped two runners as my Dream Postpeople has just qualified me as World's Biggest Running Nerd.

Just Another Day in the Underbrush

Sunday I spent a portion of the afternoon knee deep in mud, wading through water, and crashing through the woods. Oh, and I was also liberally dusted with flour. You want to see people give you strange looks, run past someone raking their lawn and be covered in mud, a strange grayish hue because of all the flour on your black clothes, and you're running at about a 7:15/mile pace. "Weird" doesn't begin to describe the way people were looking at me as I bolted through the quiet suburban neighborhood...

What on earth was I doing? Hashing, of course. I volunteered to be a co-hare at only my third hash, and Sunday I found myself in one of the 'burbs northwest of Detroit in my old shoes and stealth bomber outfit (to be less conspicuous in the woods, of course). I had brought with me 24 bottles of Michigan's finest microbrews (Bell's Best Brown Ale, Arcadia Nut Brown Ale, Dark Horse Crooked Tree IPA, and Founder's Pale Ale, all of which were intended to be an antidote to the cans of Bud, Coors, Miller High Life and Labatt Blue...seriously, folks, did you think I of all people would do anything less?) and six pounds of flour.

Once everyone seemed to have shown up at the starting point, my two co-hares and I took off, laying trail as we went. I did whatever I was told, tossing flour about liberally, sprinting to catch up, shoving past branches and vines, and eventually landing on my hands and knees in a swamp.

I was having the best time.

Eventually we were able to take a breather at the first beer check, having confused the pack enough that we had almost 10 minutes to chill in the middle of a field before they arrived. After merriment and mass consumption of cheap beer, we three hares left to lay the second half of the trail. Somewhere along the way I ended up wading through a mucky creek which wet me from the crotch down (but my iPhone stayed safe and dry in my jacket pocket). Eventually it was over and I had run/walked/waded/backtracked/staggered about 5.5 miles, but who's keeping track? The only things I cared about were 1) we didn't get caught on trail and 2) I didn't hurt myself, so NYC is still a go!

Then the real fun began as everyone dug into a huge pile of pizza and the rest of the beer. Every last one of the bottles I brought was consumed. I didn't have a single one to bring home with me, which is probably just as well, considering the marathon is in a mere five days.

I still have dirt under my toenails.

My shoes aren't fashionably black...that's just mud.

Run For the Rolls Redux

Ah, the Run for the Rolls. I love it so. What could be better than a one-mile sprint through my town with the promise of a bag full of delicious rolls as a prize? I have run this race since its inception in 2007 and last year I won the women's race in a then-personal-record time of 6:48.

I have been struggling since returning from vacation to recapture my running mojo, which seemed to be receding further into the horizon as I ran after it in vain. I forced myself out the door after work Wednesday for a brisk 5K through town which raised my spirits somewhat. Thursday I was the one doing the raising of the spirits as I joined 35 fellow runners on a 10K pub "crawl" run in Royal Oak and Ferndale. 6.2 miles, 6 different venues, and a lot of beer. It was fabulous!

At the Royal Oak Brewery with my Michigan Cherry Ale. The first of many stops...

At Memphis Smoke Blues & BBQ in Royal Oak, our last stop. NO, I am not hanging on to that pole to keep from falling over!

The pub run did much to kick me out of my torpor since my trip. I was doing entirely too much moping and sighing and not running. The realization that the NYC Marathon is nine weeks from tomorrow also sent me into a bit of a panic and I knew the time for wallowing in post-vacation melancholy was over. I had to get my lazy butt back on track.

Thus, this morning I joined my RF501 group for my long run for the first time since July 25. I had 12 miles on tap (ha ha) and I wanted it to be a quality run. I settled into a steady groove and did the first six miles at an 8:55 average pace. After doubling back I decided to step it up, and did the last six miles at an 8:18 pace, including the last two miles at 7:57 and 7:52. I felt fantastic; all the lingering funk was swept away.

I had enough time to come home, have breakfast and coffee, watch some TV, and putter around the house a bit before walking to the start of the Run for the Rolls. Last year I pulled out a great time after running 18 miles in the morning. Today I had only run 12; could I better my time from last year? I wasn't expecting much, however, since my speed work has fallen off a cliff and I haven't done a circuit on the Oval of Doom since July 28. Oh well, just give it my best shot and see what happens. It's only a mile. And then I was off...running hard and fast. I felt okay, though. I was exerting myself, but I settled into a steady beat and pumped my arms and let the slight downhill on Main St. carry me along. Soon enough I made the turn for the homestretch and kicked it into a higher gear. The timing clock was obscured by something as I approached; I could see a "6" and nothing else. When I flashed past I saw it said "6:44." Holy shit! If that was true, I had just set a new mile PR. I knew I hadn't won the women's race because I could see three other women in front of me the whole way. However, I suspected I had a chance at an age group win and those sweet, sweet, delicious rolls. I waited around afterward, chatted with some fellow runners I know, and sure enough, I came away with the win in the 35-39 age group. My official time was indeed 6:44 (which was what Garmy had said, too). I was quite pleased.

I am now off to Ann Arbor for the long-awaited Great Lake Swimmers concert!