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

Thursday Thoughts: Recent Races

Since returning from Boston last month, I have been enjoying running (and not running...no guilt about skipping training runs when I'm not training!) a great deal. I've also been busy racing. Boston was April 19, so I have been taking advantage of not having a major race to run in May (and consequently having to taper for said race), unlike last year when I had to forgo racing while I was tapering for Cleveland. That didn't stop me from abusing my taper, as savvy readers may recall.

First up: the Run Fit 5K in Novi on April 28. It was at this race last year that I ran my 5K PR of 22:13 (and roughed up my taper a little bit). I knew I wasn't coming anywhere near that time this year. I just wanted to have a little fun after work with some running friends. I ended up posting a time of 25:04, good enough for 2nd in my age group and another mug to add to my collection.

Next was the Heart of a Spartan 10K in East Lansing on Saturday, May 2. This is that other school's answer to the Big House Big Heart, which finishes inside Michigan Stadium. This time, however, I would be finishing inside Spartan Stadium at Michigan State University. Because I am a proud University of Michigan alumna, I deliberately chose to wear my "Michigan Alumni" shirt for this race. I wanted to make the natives restless. Perhaps it was the unpleasant weather (steady rain, breezy, about 60 degrees) dampening people's moods, but my brazen display of the maize and blue drew surprisingly few comments from the crowd. I got more of a response when I wore the same shirt at the Cleveland Marathon. Spike's reaction was better: a disgusted groan and some snarky comments.

I wore a hat to keep the rain out of my eyes, but that was the only part of me which wasn't thoroughly soaked by the first mile. I gave up trying to keep my feet quasi-dry, and soon I was feeling water squirting between my toes with every step and my clothing was plastered to me. After I got warmed up, the cool rain was actually quite refreshing. I sloshed my way to a 51:33 finish, good enough for 7th in my age group.

Go Blue! Take that, Sparty!

Last but not least was the Vision Builders 5K this past Saturday. Like the Spartan 10K the weekend before, it was raining steadily. The difference was the addition of a 30-35 MPH wind and a temperature hovering around 44 degrees. There would be no sassy T-shirt and running skirt worn for this race. It was back to the full winter treatment, which in this case meant my Boston jacket and whatever wasn't dirty.

Three years ago the Vision Builders race was the first race I did after I got serious about running. I finished in 28:47 (9:15/M) and thought I was going to collapse. It was incredibly difficult.

May 2007. Little did I know what was in store for me.

Saturday morning as I was getting ready, my left hamstring was sending me some curious signals. "Hey, remember me? I'm back!" I was annoyed at this development as that troublesome spot had not been an issue for months. A warmup jog before the race to assess the situation was not cause for concern, but I know the hammy only acts up when I run at a fast pace. I decided to keep my expectations low and avoid risking injury because I want to be in decent shape for the Cleveland Half Marathon, which I will be running on Sunday.

So much for that...I cruised in for a 24:13 and placed 2nd in my age group. My hamstring didn't give me a single twinge. The worst part was battling the violent headwind.

I'm on the left (duh).

With my swag.


With fellow Thursday Night Gang runner Larry, who won his age group.

Careful readers may have noticed I slipped something into this post about running the Cleveland Half Marathon. Yes indeed, I'm heading back to my ancestral homeland tomorrow to run the half on Sunday with my dad. We have done the same races before, most notably the Marine Corps Historic Half two years ago. Last year while I ran the full marathon in Cleveland, he ran the half. This time we are going to run together, as in he wants to finish in a certain time and I am going to help him get there. I'm very excited!

Hawkeyed readers may also notice I said I don't have a "major race" to run this month. But...I'm running a half marathon on Sunday! My, how things have changed. There was a time when running a half marathon was cause for extreme panic. Now, running 13.1 miles is something I might do just for fun around town on a Saturday. Training for and running marathons permanently alters one's perceptions of distance.

Aaaaand...last but not least, I took the plunge and registered for the Grand Rapids Marathon. It is my intention to requalify for Boston at the race, so I have some work to do over the summer. Luckily for me I am going on vacation to Cape Cod in July so I will have somewhere different and interesting to do some of my runs.

My next post will most likely be after the half on Sunday. Have a grand weekend, everyone!

Run Fit 5K: 25:04 (8:04/M), 2/25 AG, 33/206 F, 107/368 OA
Heart of a Spartan 10K: 51:33 (8:17/M), 7/100 AG, 86/751 F, 360/1423 OA
Vision Builders 5K: 24:13 (7:49/M), 2/14 AG, 30/162 OA

Boston Marathon 2010

The most famous route in all of runnerdom.

I dragged my feet for so long in posting this that even Spike beat me to posting his race report, and that's saying something, considering in the past we've had good-natured contests to see who is lazier. I think I won this one, my friend.

Boston. Where do I begin? How can I accurately articulate what running this race meant to me? Should I start here:

Just after I ran my qualifying time at the Cleveland Marathon, May 2009

Or should I start here:

August 2006. Before everything.

Four years ago, pushing 225 pounds, the idea that I could change my life for the better was nonexistent. Exercise? What's that? Eating wisely? Ha!

Needless to say, my, how things have changed. From that first 5K I ran after starting to lose weight, where my only goal was to finish without walking, to my first half marathon and onward to my first marathon...what a journey. What a fucking incredible journey, people.

I arrived in Boston on the Friday before the race. I visited the expo, collected my race packet, spent WAY too much money, ate WAY too many free samples of anything that was offered, and then hit up a local watering hole with my awesome hostess for the weekend. Saturday brought entertainment in the form of the Boston Hash House Harriers, who put on a stupendous hash through the streets of Boston.

It was about 40 degrees and spitting rain but I was very happy amongst my tribe.

Sunday I met up with some other run-blogger folks at a brunch gathering organized by the Redhead. I also saw Spike and we exchanged valuable prerace strategy in the form of giant tater tots stuffed with cheese. Carb loading, right?

With Spike and the Redhead at brunch. YOU GUYS ROCK!

I chilled out for the rest of Sunday, had a big pasta dinner with some other runners from Michigan, and hit the sack around 10:00 Sunday night. My bag was packed, I was ready.

What a girl wants, what a girl needs...to run a marathon.

Race morning was cool and sunny, unlike the previous three. I took the T into the city, met up with the other Michigan folks, and rode the special Michigan runners' charter bus to Hopkinton. After hanging around the bus and the athletes' village for a while, it was time to go. I strapped on my various accessories, dropped off my bag, and headed to the start. I found my corral and wriggled into the crowd. I took a moment to relax and ready myself for the task at hand. I was about to run the BOSTON MARATHON!

Right before the start.

Without much fanfare, we were off. I had decided long ago that I was not going for any particular time on this day. It was my very first Boston, and I just wanted to enjoy every moment. Consequently, I held my pace to a leisurely 9:00-plus per mile. I listened to the abundant people cheering, waved to various folks, high-fived little kids. Around mile 2 my fellow runner Erika, one of my Thursday night running group, came up behind me. I was very glad to see her and we ran together for the next 14 miles.

On the road in the early part of the race.

Midrace action!

I was moving along comfortably, soaking up the experience. When I got to the famous "Tunnel of Noise" at Wellesley College, Erika and I sped up considerably, buoyed by the cheering. I looked at Garmy after we ran through the screams and I said, "We gotta slow down, we're running like 8:30 pace!"

Even though I'm a Smithie, I have to give these women some props.

Just after Wellesley was the halfway point, which I reached in 2:00:42, right on pace for a 4:00 marathon. Around mile 16 I said to Erika, "I have to stop and use the bathroom, go ahead and don't wait for me. Good luck!" It was a miracle I had made it that far without having to use a port-a-potty. Usually the beast rears its head long before that. After exiting the bathroom, I settled in to run the rest of the race alone. I clearly remember passing mile 17 and thinking, "Nine more miles...shit." I knew where I was heading: that lonely territory of the mind where every marathon runner goes eventually. The late miles of a marathon are an out of body experience. We grit our teeth and concentrate on forward motion, pushing through the pain. I was closing in on that place. I made it through the series of hills culminating with Heartbreak at mile 21. At mile 22 I thought wearily, "Only four more to go."

On the course

And the pavement slid past under my feet, and lo I was very tired and did want to stop more than anything, but come ON, this was the BOSTON MARATHON, and I was in it. And I made the turn onto Boylston St and the final 0.3 miles stretched out in front of me. The screaming coming from the assembled crowds reached new heights and I pushed my glasses onto my forehead because I wanted to see everything as clearly as possible, only I found myself running with eyes half closed and a stupid grin on my face as a tsunami of emotion crashed over me. I was alternately laughing with joy and crying in disbelief as I ran toward the finish.

How can I look so happy at the end of a marathon? Because it's Boston.

I am so close to being done.

As soon as I finished, I knew I had to come back. There's no question. I can't let this be my only Boston.

About a minute after I finished. I was still riding an incredible emotional high.

I finished the Boston Marathon!!

Of course, no marathon report of mine would be complete without a picture of me savoring my first post-race beer:

Victory never tasted so hoppy.

So now what? I'm looking ahead to October and the Grand Rapids Marathon. I will try for another BQ at that race. In the shorter term, I've already run three races (two 5Ks and a 10K) since Boston. Next Sunday I will be running the Cleveland Half Marathon with my dad. I ran 10 miles this morning which was my longest run since the marathon. I'm enjoying running a lot at the moment. The weather is ideal and I am shedding some pounds and moving faster, which make me happy.

What a journey, folks. What an amazing journey. Most of the time I still have trouble believing that I actually did it.

Race stats:
Official finish time: 4:11:57
Age group: 3757 out of 4984
Overall: 17420 out of 22645

Feline Filler

No Boston race report yet (still waiting on World's Most Overpriced Photos).

In lieu of such, I am posting a picture of Little Boo digging his claws into my shoulder (because cats are always cute).

Who's the silly cat!

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.

26.2 Miles is Wicked Fah

2010 Boston Marathon finishing time: 4:11:57.

I did it, by golly. No one can ever take this away from me.

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Overcome

I made it to Boston.

Picking up my packet today, I was overwhelmed with emotion. When I held that number in my hands, I choked up.

After spending an obscene amount of money at the race expo, I am now waiting for my hostess for the weekend to arrive at the restaurant for dinner. in the meantime I am enjoying a hand pulled Allagash Black. Ahhhh.

Three more days!

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Well? How did I get here?

And by "here," I mean four days away from running the Boston Marathon.

• August 2006: Joined Weight Watchers
• October 2006: Ran a half mile on the treadmill at the gym, called it quits in exhaustion
• November 12, 2006: Ran my first 5K in over six years and finished in 32:58
• June 2007: Registered for the Detroit Half Marathon in a moment of wild speculation
• October 21, 2007: Ran the Detroit half in 2:07:40, the farthest I'd ever run in my life, and said afterward there was "no way" I was ever going to run a full marathon
• April 2008: Registered for the Detroit Marathon (so much for never running a marathon)
• Sometime in the summer of 2008: Learned that one had to qualify for the Boston Marathon
• September 27, 2008: Ran my final 20-mile training run for Detroit at a pace of 8:38/mile, which made me start thinking "What if..."
• October 19, 2008: Ran the Detroit Marathon in 3:52:01, missing my Boston time by 6:02
• About a minute after finishing Detroit: Decided I was going to BQ in Cleveland in May 2009, by god
• January 2009: Started training for the Cleveland Marathon
• February 2009: Briefly reached a total weight loss amount of 70 lbs (too bad I didn't stay there)
  
• May 17, 2009: Ran a 3:45:14 at Cleveland, thereby qualifying for Boston
• November 1, 2009: Ran the NYC Marathon and had the most fun I've ever had in a race, proving that running 26.2 miles at once can actually be enjoyable
  
• January 2010: Started training for Boston
• April 16, 2010: Depart for Boston
• April 19, 2010: I will find myself in Hopkinton with 25,000 other runners

It has been an amazing journey, one I never thought I would undertake. I have gone from being a 220-plus pound couch potato¹ to someone who is going to run the BOSTON MARATHON.

Never underestimate what you can accomplish if you set your mind and body to it.

1: I'm still a couch potato, but now I exercise a lot to offset my natural inclination toward laziness.

No. Just....No.

Wearing full makeup while working out: Awesome!

Wearing a lacy tube top to keep your enormous fake boobs in place while running (barely): Even better!

Smoking a cigarette after working out: OMG just stop now.

Looking like a total asshat: Priceless.







Who is this bimbo, you may ask? She's some chick from that awful MTV reality show "Jersey Shore." The only exposure I have to "Jersey Shore" is the 30 or so seconds devoted to it on The Soup on occasion. Any more than that any my brain starts to hurt. The stupid, it burns.

When celebrities "run," the results are often...interesting.

Via The Superficial.

In other boob news: Amy Winehouse!

B-Minus 10 Days

In one week I will be on my way to Boston.

Am I ready for this race? I suppose. I will be able to run the distance, but I suspect this one is going to hurt more than the previous ones. I did two 20-mile runs, but the last one was almost 3 weeks ago. My experiment with self-guided training was largely a failure. I now know without a doubt I need the structure of a regimented training program. For my next marathon I am going back to my trusted friend Hal Higdon, whose Intermediate II program was the one I used for the Cleveland Marathon last year (the race at which I qualified for Boston). It worked.

I am well aware I am not in the same physical condition I was a year ago pre-Cleveland (amazing) or even six months ago pre-New York (still pretty good). I have felt sluggish for quite some time and I'm in a running mojo-less funk, which is not a great place to be when one is about to run the Boston Marathon. I know this race is going to be a slow one, possibly even slower than NYC (4:16). Having come to terms with this, I am going to bring my camera and my love of running to the starting line and just go out there and have fun. This is Boston, for crying out loud. BOSTON! I'm going to soak up every sound and sight available, and I can't do that if I'm obsessing about my pace and time like I was in Cleveland.

In other news:

Did anyone else see this story? OUCH!

The World's Most Annoying Dog problem I ranted about has abated this week because the weather took a sudden detour back into Winter. After Monday and Tuesday pushed into the high 70s, Wednesday kicked off a downward spiral which included the appearance of snow flurries this morning. Yes, that's right, SNOW FLURRIES. Welcome to Michigan!

A couple of days ago I got together with Spike for a pre-Boston strategy session, which consisted of eating candy while wearing our Boston Marathon jackets. We both ordered an obscene amount of official race gear (OK, mine was only mildly offensive, but his was truly obscene) and even though it's a huge Race Faux Pas to wear the gear before the race, I insisted we get a tiny bit of our dork on and wear the jackets inside, away from accusing eyes. After all, we both worked our butts off last year to BQ, so I felt we had earned it. Then, what did I do but WEAR THE JACKET OUT TO DINNER. (It was cold and rainy!)

OMG.

Running gods, strike me down now¹.

Proof of massive breach of race etiquette.

Last weekend the hashers invaded the Waterloo Rec Area for some trail running and cheap beer-drinking. This edition of hashing was co-hared by myself and two other brave souls. Afterward everyone came to my house for a homemade feast I spent several days preparing: two kinds of chili (black bean and and beef), an 8-lb baked ham (from my half hog), eggplant hummus, and two pounds of bacon. There was nothing left but a few scraps of ham after everyone left.

In my house it is a well-known rule that any open container will spontaneously generate a cat. Here Darwin has teleported into one of the coolers we used for the beer checks at the hash last weekend.

Earlier this week I attended an extremely good concert by a band I first discovered last summer, the xx. This show capped a period of concert-going which spanned almost a month and included some great (and, unfortunately, not-so-great) music. I have a break of a few weeks before the next wave of shows begins on May 10 with Local Natives in Ann Arbor.

The xx live: restrained majesty.

During the mini-trip I took for the xx concert, I went to a bar which had Founders' Kentucky Breakfast Stout ON TAP. This is one of the best beers in the world according to Beer Advocate. I had it for the first time only a couple of weeks ago, and because it is highly seasonal and enjoys limited release I wondered if I would be lucky enough to taste it again this year. I was.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

The xx: "Islands"; "Basic Space"

1: Not only did I wear the jacket out to dinner on Wednesday, three weeks ago I wore it ON A RUN while I was visiting my parents. Clearly, I'm just thumbing my nose at the Running Gods.

It's...

TAPER TIME!

Two weeks to Boston!

Shut the F@%k Up!

Wherein I Reveal That I Am Actually An Extremely Angry Person (Surprise!)

Southeast Michigan has recently been blessed with a burst of uncharacteristically pleasant weather. Each day this week has been a joyful combination of sun and warm temperatures. Spring breezes carry the scent of burgeoning life as plants and soil awaken from their winter slumber. My early morning runs no longer take place in the cold, still darkness; a riotous chorus of robins and other early-rising birds accompanies me. I have thrown open my house's windows to let the fresh air circulate (which also blows all the cat fur tumbleweeds down the hall and reminds me that I need to vacuum).

Opening my winter-stale house to the warm spring air has, however, reintroduced to my life the only thing I don't like about living in my otherwise peaceful neighborhood:

The World's Most Annoying Dog (also known as: That Shitty Little Fucking Yappy Piece of Shit Motherfucking Rat Dog).

I'm not a huge fan of dogs in general. I have a low opinion of poorly-behaved asshole dogs who act like their often similarly poorly-behaved asshole owners (imagine that), like the asshole dog that bit me on my arm last year (those teeth left marks which are still visible). I like dogs the same way I like very small children: fun to play with for a while, but I'm glad I can give them back to their handlers when it's time to go home (especially if they start to act up and/or need a diaper changed, a scenario which may apply both to humans and canines). The only exceptions are my brother and sister-in-law's dog Maya (whom I refer to as "the best dog ever," because she totally is) and my little nephew (who was joined this week by his new baby brother, making me an aunt two times over!). I can cuddle with Maya for hours and when Little Nephew refers to me as "Ra-ra" I turn into a puddle.

Anyway, despite my committed lifelong cat person-ness (save the "crazy cat lady jokes," I only have two cats, not two dozen) I can tolerate and enjoy most dogs. (I just don't want to live with one.)

Not this one.

I hate this dog, The World's Most Annoying Dog (WMAD), with the fire of a thousand suns. I daydream about ways in which this dog could be wiped off the face of the earth. A stray piece of airplane debris, perhaps? My town is in the approach path (albeit 40 miles out) for Detroit Metro Airport, so it's not completely outside the realm of possibility. How about a meteorite? It could totally happen! Lightning strike! Sinkhole! Dognappers! Falling tree branch! Red-tailed hawk! Anything!

Those of you who know me as a soft-hearted animal lover who cries at ads for the Humane Society or ASPCA (damn Sarah McLachlan!) and who has approximately 800 pictures of her cats on her iPhone are probably mystified and a little disturbed. Maybe you're mystified in general because I rarely rant about anything not running-related. Maybe you're just disturbed, in which case, seek professional help.

Let's just say I hide it well, unless you happen to be a helpless passenger in my car while I'm driving. Then you will be hit full-force with the extent of my commentary on all the FUCKING IDIOTS who share the road with me. Blunt-force road rage!

Not today. Not this time. I need to vent, and vent BIG. Like, catastrophic Mt. St. Helens explosive volcanism with bonus pyroclastic flow (now with extra chunky flaming boulders!) kind of big.

Back to the WMAD. First of all, this...thing...can barely be called a dog. My cats are bigger than it. Darwin could kick its ass just by lying on top of it in a nonviolent feline coup. I think it's a miniature or toy something-or-another, maybe a Doberman pinscher. Suffice to say it's the size of a loaf of bread or my Barbie horse from when I was little. Thus, it obeys one of the cardinal rules of caninedom: The smaller the dog, the yappier and more high-pitched its voice. This is the smallest dog I've ever seen; therefore, it is the yappiest dog I've ever come across.

Let's sum up so far: warm weather, open windows, yappy dog three doors down...do you see where this is going?

This is what I heard for a large chunk of Wednesday afternoon and evening as I was TRYING to enjoy hanging out in my house with the windows open for the first time since early November (yes, the windows were closed for five months. Welcome to Michigan!):

YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP

This is what I heard Thursday at 5:45 am after I slept with my windows open:

YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP

I think you get the idea.

Imagine that sound drilling into your brain for HOURS upon HOURS. Imagine hearing that shrill ceaseless shrieking as you lie exhausted on your bed after an 18- or 20-mile training run, desperate for a nap, but unable to fine a shred of peace because that FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT DOG WILL. NOT. SHUT. UP. And for those of you wondering why I didn't close the windows: even with them closed, I can still hear it. Additionally, it's my house and if the weather's nice and I want to have the windows open, then I'm going to have my damn windows open. And there's no fucking way I'm wearing earplugs to sit on my couch and read a book. That's just stupid.

I must justifiably direct a large part of my ire at the "owners," who stick the poor dog in their backyard, attached to an overhead wire, and leave it there alone for hours. No dog deserves that. It's clearly bored or anxious and wants to be with its people, and voices its displeasure by standing by their back door barking (I can see into their yard from certain of my second-floor windows). If you're going to have a dog and ignore it all day, then why even have a dog, you morons? Get a cat; they can deal with being left alone and often want to be left alone. Cats don't freak out if you leave the room. You might leave, come back five hours later, and they haven't even moved. Darwin and Boo might take a moment to look at me as if to say, "Oh, you were gone? I didn't even notice." Plus cats are way quieter.

Additionally, HOW in the WORLD do they not know how disruptive, rude, and insensitive it is to their neighbors to leave their dog outside to yap endlessly? Are these people fucking clueless braindead IDIOTS? I THINK SO. There's no other explanation. Any respectable dog owners with half an ounce of common sense know not to allow their dog to bark nonstop. My next-door neighbors have an Old English sheepdog. It's a big dog with a big bark. It likes to bark at things. They, however, quickly shut it down with a firm "No!" or let it back inside after it's woofed at a few squirrels, falling leaves, me getting into my car, the air passing by...Suffice to say, even though it's exasperating when that dog barks at me when I'm going up the stairs in my house, they have their shit together when it comes to responsible dog ownership.

I dread what's coming this summer. Every weekend the WMAD will be in its yard yapping. It happened last year and I thought I was going to lose my mind. We had such a mild summer that I only ran my air conditioner a handful of times; the rest of the time I kept my windows open. Each Saturday and Sunday I would hope for just one day where I didn't have to listen to that yappy fucker spreading its aural poison around the neighborhood. Occasionally the stars would align and the gods smiled down and the WMAD was nowhere to be heard. Ah, blissful silence! I could hear the breeze rustling the trees, hear the birds chirping, hear my own thoughts.

The other 5 bajillion days I spent muttering "Shut up shut up shut up shut up for the love of fucking god, PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP YAP

I've composed anonymous letters in my head countless times. They always begin: "Dear Dumbasses..." (or "Dear So-Called Owners of the World's Most Annoying Dog...") I've thought about how I could cover my tracks in sending this letter. (I'm not telling.) I've envisioned front-porch confrontations. (No one dies; I'm not that violent.) I've indulged in fantasizing about much more nefarious and unsavory and un-Sarah McLachlanesque ways of dealing with the problem (think flamethrowers). The problem with that is when I have reduced the WMAD to a smoldering pile, letting silence reign over the neighborhood, my heart is pounding and I feel lightheaded from adrenaline. (Power daydreams: try them!)

They've created a monster with their stupidity and the entire neighborhood has to pay the price. I can't possibly be the only one who is harboring a deep and secret hatred.

I just don't know what to do. The prospect of another summer marred by brain-melting hair-pulling rage-inducing barking has filled me with dread. It's started already and it's only April. I might get a reprieve when the weather takes an inevitable brief turn for the worse (I fully expect a surprise snowstorm or a string of 45-degree, rainy days), but eventually it will be all warm, all the time, and all hope for salvation and a peaceful summer will be lost.

So. Anyone know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy...?

Seconds From Disaster

Behold, the incident to which I referred in my last post.

Here he comes! About one second after this picture was taken, the crash landing occurred. I looked for a picture of the guy sprawled on the pavement, but alas, there were none.

A normal picture, no sprinting goobers in sight, even though I have my "serious race face" on.

In other news, recent weather forecasts have the daytime temperatures zooming past 70 degrees over the next few days, with a high of 79 projected for Friday. All I have to say about that is: WHAT THE HELL. I'm NOT ready for that yet. I'm going to break a sweat just walking to my car at the end of the workday.

On the other hand: SKIRTS TIME!

Additionally, tonight I am going to hear two good bands in concert: Spoon and Deerhunter. I have been waiting for this for months!

Spoon - "I Turn My Camera On"

Deerhunter - "Neither of Us, Uncertainly"

OUCH!

From FAIL Blog

Come to think of it, this is exactly what happened to the guy who SPRINTED past me in the closing meters of the Shamrocks & Shenanigans 5K in Ann Arbor on March 14. He blasted past me on the left with about 10 meters to go and when he was only a few feet in front of me he completely lost his footing on the damp pavement (it had been raining that morning) and crashed to the ground so hard he actually skidded for a few feet. The sound of his bare skin scraping across the asphalt was rather...gruesome. I was hoofing it to the finish and when that guy went down in front of me I had to do a little zig-zag and hop to avoid stomping on his outstretched flailing arm. The assembled crowd emitted a collective gasp. I crossed the finish line and looked back to see him hobbling to the end.

On one hand, man, that must have hurt, and sucks to be him. On the other hand, really, dude, did you have to channel Usian Bolt in the final moments of the race? What was that all about anyway? There's finishing strong, and then there's doing so little for the entire race you have enough energy to sprint like a madman. You looked like a GOOBER.

In other news, tonight I am going to a live show featuring this fine band. I am quite excited.

Cave Singers -- "Seeds of Night"

Thursday Thought

That's right, I only have one thought:

The weather for the past two weeks has been absolutely PERFECT for running outdoors. Each time I step outside, no matter what time of day it may be, I sigh with pleasure.

I had to put that out there before we get hit with the dreaded "wintry mix" this coming weekend.

What March in Michigan giveth (64 and sunny), March in Michigan taketh away (34 and snow).

32 days to Boston!

Thursday Thoughts: Some Pictures are Worth a Few Words

Saturday, February 20, I headed for Jackson to do my first 20-miler on the Falling Waters Trail. This was the same trail on which I ran my stellar half marathon PR (1:43:01) last October. The day was cold (19 degrees) and brilliantly sunny and I was in good spirits. I ran the entire length of the trail from Jackson to Concord and back. How convenient that it's 10.2 miles one way! I even negative-split the second half, pulling out 8 sub-9:00 miles in a row to finish in 2:58 for an 8:55/mile average. I was pleased.

Mile 15 of 20 on the Falling Waters Trail in Jackson.

A week and several snowstorms later, I peeked out my window Saturday morning with the futile hope that the 13 inches of snow on the ground might have magically vanished overnight, leaving me bare, dry sidewalks and streets on which to run my 16 miles. Sadly, this was not to be. I conceded defeat at the hands of the elements and knew my only course of action was to run the miles on a treadmill. I ran the mile to my gym, ran 14 miles on the treadmill, and ran the mile home. It was dreadful. There are no words to describe how awful running 14 miles on a treadmill are. By mile 3 I was ready to quit. The thought of 11 more miles made me want to cry. I devised a plan to ease the pain: break the distance into four 3.5-mile segments and take some kind of break after each segment. That helped a lot. I went to the bathroom, walked and ate Gu, drank some water. Nevertheless, the final 2.5 miles felt like a death march. I was just so done with it I sped up the treadmill until I was running a sub-9:00 pace just so I could GET IT OVER WITH FASTER. Finally, FINALLY, I was done. But wait, there's more! I had only run 15 miles. I STILL HAD TO RUN ONE MILE HOME. And you know what, folks? That one mile outdoors was easier than the 14 which preceded it.

Thirteen inches of snow on Friday means I'm not doing my long run outside on Saturday.

The very next morning I was inside the Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit, staring up through the glass ceiling of the atrium at this:

70 flights, 1,050 steps.

Yes, it was Climb Detroit time again! I participated in this event last year and had so much fun I came back for more. I want to thank especially my run-blogger friends who donated to my stairclimb fund: Redhead, Mike Fox, Zoomylicious, Mr. Loser, girlrunningaround, and JoyRuN. Thanks to you I totally crushed my goal AND helped my workplace team be the number one fundraising team this year! We raised over $8,000 for the American Lung Association.

I surprised myself by turning in a time of 11:02, which was only 9 seconds slower than my time from last year. Despite my nearly identical time, competition was much stiffer, and I finished 12/65 in my age group and 27/212 for women.

I prepare by scratching my arm.

Today for lunch I met one of my favorite run-bloggers and all-around awesome dude and great friend Spike. Not only that, I finally got to meet the one and only Redhead who is braving the tail end of this Michigan winter to hang with Spike for a few days. I am happy to report that 1. Redhead is indeed as funny and effervescent as she is on her blog and 2. They really are the cutest couple ever. I was very sad when I had to go back to work.

An epic run-blogger meetup!

Finally, when I stopped at the New Chelsea Market after my group run tonight, I saw this bottle of Malbec and knew I had to get it for the sole purpose of taking a picture and posting it here:

Sure to make Nitmos and Spike squeal in terror. Clearly, llamas are taking over the world.

SIX WEEKS to Boston!

Words To Live By

Take heed, young grasshoppers:

Shit washes off.

How do I know this?

First things first: we're all runners here. We have no or very little shame. We discuss odd and embarrassing things about our bodies all the time. Now, on with it.

Shit happens, as they say. Shit happened to me for only the second time this morning. Yes, I have GI issues almost every time I run, but 99% of the time I'm able to control the beast and avoid a mishap. Not so today. I was cruising through mile 4 of my 5-mile run when I felt the dreaded rumble in my guts. I had cleared the pipes before I left as I always do (this is even more important than my shoes, Garmin, or sports bra) and there had been no grumbling from down below so I thought I was golden for the duration of the run.

Well. My body had other plans. I found myself sprinting for home, not an easy feat on sidewalks which were accumulating a slick coating of fresh snow. I almost took a spill right at the foot of my driveway. Despite my best efforts, I was too late. Yes, folks, I crapped my pants. There was nothing I could do to avoid it. Like I said earlier, shit happens. I find it almost miraculous that this has only happened to me twice given my constant battle with my GI tract.

Shit also washes off. It disappears quite nicely when a hot shower and lots of Dial soap is applied. I emerged squeaky clean, spicy fresh, and ready to face the day.

Up until this mishap, my run had been very enjoyable. When I first set out just after 6:00 AM, the first fat, lazy flakes of the morning's snowstorm were just beginning to float downward. The air was so still, they filled the air in a thick cloud which gently buffeted my face. It was like running inside a snow globe. Snowflakes accumulated on my eyebrows and eyelashes until I had to swipe them away. I ran in the street, my footfalls muffled by the soft layer of snow.

I am torn between loathing the cold and unpleasantness of winter training versus its quiet beauty. Luckily I have about 7 more weeks of this to figure it out.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Morning

Saturday I headed out for my longest run since the NYC Marathon last November: a cold and snowy 18-miler on my favorite, albeit challenging, long run route through the Waterloo Rec Area west of town. Last October I did my 20-miler on the same road, and this was the scene at the time:

October 17, 2009

Saturday, this was the view from approximately the same place (notice the one tree on the left is the same):

February 13, 2010

Clearly, it's not fall anymore. It was about 16 degrees when I left my house. I was wearing my thickest tights, a warm base layer, YakTrax, and the Jacket of Wonder. It was snowing lightly for the first few miles, but that tapered off and stopped by the time I got into the woods along Bush Rd. The footing was decent, aided by the 'Trax. I had the iPod rocking and I was feeling good. My knee/IT band wasn't bothering me at all. I was just out for a long, slow cruise in the country. When I reached the 9-mile mark on Loveland Rd. I paused for a picture:

Halfway there. I am amused by the corona of exhaled vapor clinging to my headband.

I finished the run in just over 2 hours and 47 minutes for a 9:18 pace. It was slow going, considering the surface conditions, but once I reached dry pavement again with 2 miles to go I took off the 'Trax and squeezed out a couple of sub-9:00 miles. I was pretty well aching all over by that point so I consider that an accomplishment. Once home, I showered and collapsed for a nap, complete with cat:

I think he's happy, don't you?

NINE WEEKS TO BOSTON.

Preparedness or Madness?

You know it's going to be a long, cold run when you use hot water to mix the Gatorade you're taking with you.

It's 16 degrees, snowing lightly, and I have 18 miles in my immediate future.

I must be crazy.

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Shameless Begging

Last year I participated in the American Lung Association's Fight for Air stairclimb at the Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit. I contributed over $400 to the ALA's efforts to fight lung disease. I'm back for more as a member of my workplace team. The stairclimb is February 28 this year and I am hoping to raise at least $300 by then. I hate asking people for money especially given the current economic climate, but even $5 would help me in getting to my goal.

Just so y'all know, last year I kicked butt and finished 14th out of all the women who participated. I don't do this just to raise money for the ALA, I do it to KICK SOME SERIOUS ASS at the same time, because I'm super competitive like that. Even though it's not TECHNICALLY a race...I act like it is.

In the process of kicking butt at the 2009 stairclimb.

Last year because I met my fundraising goal I got a sweet little duffel bag as my incentive reward. I use that thing all the time. Many of you contributed last year and thus are partially responsible for the sweet little duffel bag, and for that I thank you.

My personal fundraising page.

Help me out here people...even $5 would be awesome.