NOT According to Plan!

It was supposed to be a nice evening out on the town, starting off with dinner at the Blue Nile and followed by the Chanticleer concert. I drove to my friend P's house nearby after work to pick her up so she could accompany me to dinner; I was going to attend the concert by myself. (You may ask: Why didn't' your husband go with you? Well...the phrase "men's a cappella ensemble singing American folk and jazz songs" should be a tiny indication of why I was by myself.)

Things went awry almost immediately. I had to pause in my backward trajectory out of P's driveway because of a stream of oncoming traffic and when I began to move again...I didn't. My useless POS tires bumped up against that berm of accumulated ice and snow that is deposited at the foot of every driveway from passing snowplows (don't you just love how you can spend 2 hours clearing your driveway only to have a plow push a two-foot-high wall of snow across it in about two seconds?) and I could go no further.

Much swearing, shoveling, spinning of tires, spreading of cat litter, driving over floor mats, sliding, getting stuck perpendicular to the driveway, and having the ass end of my car hanging out into one of Ann Arbor's busier roads later, I called for a tow truck. That sucker wasn't going anywhere. Oh, and, have you ever tried to do something like this in a stick shift car? Yeah, that significantly increases the annoyance and difficulty factor. I'm surprised I didn't set my clutch on fire.

My poor little car, mired in snow; this position was an improvement over the wedged-crossways-between-snow-piles predicament in which I found myself earlier.

After tow truck-enabled extraction. Sometimes I miss my four-wheel-drive Jeep Grand Cherokee with the giant burly tires.

By the time P and I were back in the car and pointed in the right direction, it was almost 7:30. The concert started at 8:00. Neither one of us had eaten dinner; we were both starving. I was so mad I could hardly see straight, my left calf muscle was throbbing from working the clutch so hard, and my head was pounding due to a nasty cold that flared up over the course of the past two days (putting my plan to run the Frozen Blueberry race tomorrow in jepoardy). I said, "Let's just go eat. I don't care about going to the concert anymore." The tickets were good for 20% off our meal at the restaurant and I didn't want to pass up that bargain. We went and stuffed ourselves with delicious Ethiopian food and then retired to the Arbor Brewing Company across the street for a beer.

My consolation prize for the botched evening: a pint of ABC's Big Ben.

There are worse things than spending an evening with a good friend and having said evening involve good beer, I suppose.

The Runner Has Two Faces

These are from the Holiday Hustle 5K that was in December. I found them on RunMichigan's photos page, where they have digital files available for the low price of $4.00. I think this is incredibly fantastic and awesome and runner-friendly, since as we all know most places charge astronomical prices for image files.

In the beginning: My "concentration" face as I contemplate the task at hand. I am wearing my "stealth" outfit: all sleek, all black. I am the SR-71 Blackbird! Or would that be the B-2 Stealth Bomber?


At the finish: ARRRRGH! Can you FEEL THE BURN? This was an uncomfortable race and I was glad it was almost over, stealth outfit or not.

Weirdest. Sensation. Ever.

This morning I bravely braved the snowy outdoors for my six-mile run. We're getting a light brush from that bitch of a storm's skirt here in Michigan and when I went out there were a couple inches of new snow on the ground (but nothing like the devastation by ice taking place to the south, nor the eight inches my parents in northeast Ohio's Snow Belt have received). Never fear, YakTrax to the rescue! The quasi-plowed streets were perfect for YakTrax-ing. Traffic was light and I was enjoying myself.

Halfway through mile 4 I swung into one of the cookie-cutter subdivisions from hell that have cropped up on the outskirts of town like a noxious cluster of mushrooms. Despite my scorn for the development and what it represents (destruction of farmland, bland yuppie sameness; every house with a hunk of plastic play structure in the backyard and an SUV in the driveway, 2.5 kids and a Golden retriever), I enjoy running on its perimeter because the road is flat and lightly traveled. So lightly traveled, in fact, that this morning I was breaking virgin snow with my feet. Not a soul, neither man nor beast nor automobile, had passed before me. I entered the area of the sub closest to the city water treatment plant where all of the building lots are empty save one (imagine that!) and the development company never even bothered to erect street lights (actually I think that particular developer, the one who took over the "less desirable" lots near the sewage treatment plant, went bankrupt).

The predawn darkness closed in and as I stared at the snow in front of me I was overcome by the most peculiar feeling. The uniform blanket of white in every direction, unbroken by shadow or footprint, made it impossible to tell where the ground actually was. I felt as if I was running on air, suspended above a bottomless void. Only the impact of my feet striking the ground reminded me that I was in fact present on the earth and gravity was my friend. The sensation intensified if I looked directly at the snow. I had to look away, at something concrete and three-dimensional, because it was starting to make me dizzy. My gaze was drawn back to the ground, however, because as brain-scrambling as the view was, it was still cool. I watched my feet move, appearing to be suspended above nothingness, and yet finding solid ground in the formless void. This lasted until I arrived at a place where someone had backed out of a driveway, and the tire tracks gave the snow some topography and the illusion was broken.

I arrived home snow-covered, a slick, salty mustache of clear snot plastered to my upper lip region, peeled off my YakTrax and wet clothes, and once upstairs in the bathroom I saw myself in the mirror and seriously, people, I looked like death warmed over. Zombielike, if you will; I could have been an undead extra in any recent zombie-themed movie. My eyes were red-rimmed, grayish smudges underneath them, hair all straggly and wet, lips pale purple, face smeared with snot and sweat and snow, ghostly white except for a couple of pinkish spots on my cheeks. The effect was gruesome. I even said, "oh my god, I look terrible" to my reflection and then leapt into the shower as fast as I could.

When I rolled in from my 11-miler on Sunday, freezing cold, staggering, and bleary-eyed, with snot frozen in two little wads in my nostrils , John was in the kitchen. As soon as he saw me he said, "What a glamorous sport."

Nope. Not glamorous at all, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm not a figure skater, I'm a distance runner.

Decisions, Decisions...

One of my goals for 2009 is to run at least one race each month. As you all are aware, January is almost over and Saturday is the last day I can squeeze in a race. I already have February's race on deck: the Super 5K, which will be on Sunday the 1st. I ran that race last year and scored an age group award.

Now, as for Saturday. I have two options.

One: the Frozen Blueberry 5K in Montrose. It starts at 10:00 am and is a regular old 5K road race. However, it's 85 miles away from my house. Which begs the question: how far is too far to drive to run a road race?

Two: the Winter Switchback Run, which also starts at 10:00 am, and is a mere 10 minutes away from my house. The downside is it's a trail run up some pretty brutal hills (which I am quite familiar with, having once upon a time lived in a small house not far from there) , it's not timed, there are no awards, and it sounds like it's not even measured accurately; therefore, can it even be called a "race"?

However, it's only 8 miles away from my house as opposed to 85.

On the other hand, Montrose is close to the Birch Run Outlet Mall-O-Plex, and there's a great kitchen gadetry and cookware store there which I have not visited in some time (for good reason; I have a weakness for shiny pots and pans). Additionally, it appears that age group competition is light and it is likely I would score some AG hardware.

Nasty trail run very close to home vs. road race far far away but with added bonus of shopping afterward...what to do...

Day After Thursday Thoughts

What a week, people. What a week.

• My standard operating system is up and running. Debugging complete. Virus eradicated.
  
• You know you're a hardcore winter runner when you think heading out when it's 29 degrees is "warm" and "pleasant." Whatever it is, it's better than last Friday's minus-10.
  
• Not only was Tuesday a Very Great Day for America (even if I had to miss the live and in person version), it was also the day Animal Collective's new album, Merriweather Post Pavilion, hit the streets, and I can finally post a link to a LEGAL audio stream/mp3 of what I think IS ONE OF THE MOST AWESOME SONGS I HAVE EVER HEARD: "My Girls." Confession: I snagged a totally illegal mp3 of this back in early December when it leaked on the Internet and immediately put it on practically infinite repeat. iTunes says I've listened to it 34 times, and that's 34 complete times, not counting the times when I jumped back to the start before the song had finished because I couldn't wait for it to begin again. That also doesn't count the times I've heard it on my iPod, because this is truly a fantastic song for running. Well, my running anyway. Standard disclaimer: noisy samples and synthesizers aren't for everyone.
• Tomorrow is a double helping of my other two passions in life: opera and food. First, I am going to see another Met Live in HD broadcast (Orfeo ed Euridice with the stupendous Stephanie Blythe) and then shortly afterward the Michigan Lady Food Bloggers are descending on my house for a very much anticipated "Summer in January" foodie event where we are going to try and recapture some of summer's warmth and cheer. I'm making strawberry shortcake.
  
• The ol' running schedule suffered somewhat this week, but I still managed 5 miles on Sunday and 3 miles last night. Even though today is Rest Day, I am debating taking advantage of the warm temperature (33 degrees in Ann Arbor as of last reckoning) and going out for my 5 mile run after work tonight instead of tomorrow morning, when it will be much colder. And speaking of cold, the low Saturday night is supposed to be minus 5! Sunday's 12-miler is going to be a chilly one...

I've seen this one going around teh Interwebs lately: the "Five Addictions" meme. I thought I'd be a sheep and jump on that bandwagon, too. Or if I'm going to be a sheep, wouldnt' that mean I join the flock? Onward...

1. Running. Duh.

2. My down comforter. I bought this king-sized, silk-clad waft of luxury for an incredibly low price (I think it was 80% off or something: originally over $1000 and I got it for $200) at a clearance sale at The Company Store Outlet in LaCrosse, Wisconsin, shortly before I moved to Michigan for graduate school. It has been my faithful companion in sleep for the past ten years. It has kept me warm and snug in the coldest of barely-heated lakeside cottage Michigan winters (and barely-heated 1920-era bungalows in small Michigan cities).

3. My town. Can I be addicted to a place? I have lived here in my house for almost 7 years, which is second only to the 8 years I spent in the same house in Los Altos, California. I love my town. I can leave my house on foot and in 30 minutes I can buy stamps, milk, cowboy boots, a refrigerator, dog food, a haircut, knick knacks (not always useful, but they have their place), a shot of espresso, a bag full of used paperbacks, drop off some dry cleaning, visit the library, and grab a sandwich for lunch on my way home. It's such a useful town. Additionally, after so long in one place, I'm a regular at several establishments around town (and no, they're not all bars), and as such

4. Ben and Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. Hands down, my favorite ice cream flavor of all time. I used to eat it by the pint in college. I still eat it, but only in half-pint increments.

5. Reading. I learned to read when I was about three years old and I've never stopped. I read for a living. I read every night before I go to bed. If I don't I literally can't sleep. My bedtime reading ritual is ingrained into my very soul at this point. I am always reading at least one book at once. When I worked as a temp at Borders Books (the world HQ here in Ann Arbor, not one of the retail stores) I had the key to the mythical Book Room, where surplus and unwanted advance and complimentary copies sent to the buyers ended up. I treated the Book Room like my personal bookstore. In two months I accumulated about 250 new books. It was a bookworm's dream come true. As long as my eyes continue to function I will always read.

Toasting our new President Tuesday evening. This is how I spent Inauguration Day: in a recliner, wrapped in a blanket, with a cat. It wasn't what I had hoped for, but it was enough. Just watching it on TV made me all verklempt.

Stomach Flu: 1, Me: 0

Today was supposed to be one of the most memorable days of my life. Instead I am stuck at my aunt's house six miles away from the epicenter of the action, still wearing the same underwear I put on two days ago.

I drove to Virginia on Sunday because today I was going to meet my best friend in Washington DC so we could experience first-hand the dawn of a new era. Ah, but even the best-laid plans are subject to change; in this case, a virus swiftly and surely brought me to new lows of misery. People, I have never been so sick in my whole life. I'll spare y'all the particulars. With heavy heart I spoke to my friend yesterday and decided it was not in my best interests (nor that of anyone around me) to try and attend the inauguration. Yesterday I felt like hot garbage that had been run over by a steamroller. I felt about 5% human. Today I feel like I've been only run over by a steamroller and about 50% human. I think I might even have enough strength to take a shower and change my clothes.

Then I'll sit and watch the inauguration on TV like everybody else.

Hardcore or Crazy: Pop Quiz

Hardcore: Running during the winter.

Crazy: Running when the temperature is minus 5 degrees F.

Please select one.

In other news, the "Shape Up and Stay Fit" panel discussion at the library last night was a success. I saw some of my RF501 teammates whom I have not seen since the marathon in October or seen very infrequently. Despite the unwelcoming temperature, about 15 people showed up for the discussion. I decided on "running dork" for my wardrobe and wore my official Detroit jacket (OK, I wear it all the time).

My proudest moment was describing how I found myself weighing over 220 pounds two and a half years ago and through Weight Watchers and running I have lost ~60 pounds.

And finally, my Cleveland Marathon training plan has launched as of this week; of course it coincides with the worst cold snap of the winter (high temperature today will be less than 10 degrees; wind chill tomorrow will be minus 20). I treadmilled it yesterday at the gym (3 miles) but the prospect of staring down 5 miles on the treadmill this morning was unpalatable so I decided to see what it felt like to run outside in subzero temperatures. I doubled up on everything: warm tights under warm pants; base layer under warm top under warm jacket; ear band under hat. I fussed around with my outfit for so long before leaving the house that I could only do 4 miles. 4 very, very, very cold miles.

However, something I said last night at the discussion returned to me as I crunched along the snow-encrusted sidewalks. I said that I find "a certain kind of purity" to running outdoors in the winter: the silence, the stillness, the dark, the feeling of being the only person in the world. At 6:30 am in mid-January, it is easy to feel this way.

And lastly, a lesson in irony (real irony, not Alanis Morrissette-style "irony"): I parked my car in the underground area at work yesterday to avoid having it become covered in snow, which was in the forecast. When I returned to it at the end of the day, it was encased in ice from water that had seeped through a joint in the outdoor parking deck overhead. My car had been under the drip all day.

I parked outdoors today.

My Celebrity Appearance

Guess who's going to be appearing in person at the local library next week?

There was also an article which appeared in the local paper yesterday but the online version is truncated and doesn't include all of the brilliant, inspirational quotes from yours truly.

Certain of my tiny readership (I'm looking in your direction, E.B.) who live in the area should attend!

In other news, we're about to get slammed with yet more snow; the winter storm warning from the local weather doom and gloom outpost includes the statement "ONLY TRAVEL IN AN EMERGENCY. IF YOU MUST TRAVEL...KEEP AN EXTRA FLASHLIGHT...FOOD...AND WATER IN YOUR VEHICLE IN CASE OF AN EMERGENCY."

Does "food" include an old Gu packet I have stashed in my glovebox?

Bathroom Babble and More

You know you're a runner when you encounter a co-worker/fellow runner in the bathroom and end up having a ten-minute conversation about upcoming races, training plans, paces, group runs, gear, the weather, etc...I can only imagine what the unfortunate person trapped in the bathroom with us was thinking: "Who are these crazy people?"

In other news, I am über-excited because this evening before my regular group run I am going to (carefully) break out some of the megabucks in gift certificate money (monies?) I received for my recent birthday. YakTrax are at the top of my list. After that...THE SKY IS THE LIMIT!

And finally, I am extremely jealous of fellow runner TK who is in Ireland, a place near and dear to my heart (I lived there for 5 weeks for my geology field camp experience). Not only am I jealous because she is in beautiful, verdant Ireland and I am not, but she will be able to run in Ireland while I am stuck on the same crappy snow-covered Michigan sidewalks I've been pounding for the past 2 years (in various states of snow-coveredness; right now, they are covered with a couple inches of fresh snow). I lamented some time ago about missing out on running in various exotic places because at the time of my visits I was not a runner. (Shocking!) One of the two places I regret not running in the most is western Ireland (the other being my beloved valley in Wyoming). Oh, some day I will return. As Arnold said, "I'll be bock."

I just turned 35...

Which is why I find this post so unbelievably hilarious. I was laughing out loud. I was wiping away tears, people.

My contribution:

I remember when the Internet came to my college (1994) and everyone said, "You gotta check out this 'Netscape' thing! It's amazing!"

When the new hot singles came out on 45s and everyone rushed down to the nearest Tower Records to snap them up.

The Commodore 64 with the tape deck on the side. Woah!

My first radio only received AM.

My first Walkman only had fast-forward capability, no rewind. To "rewind" a cassette, I had to flip it over and fast-forward. Oh, and the thing was about the size (and weight) of a brick.

Anyone remember Outback Red? Or Forenza?

I sold Girl Scout cookies for $1.25 per box.

I feel old.

Looking Forward, Looking Back

A year ago I wrote this as my list of goals for 2008. I had an 87.5% success rate, achieving 7 of the 8 goals I set for myself:

• Run half marathon in under 2 hours (SUCCESS)
  
• Run a 7:00 mile (SUCCESS)
  
• Run a sub-25:00 5K (SUCCESS)
  
• Get a new 5K PR (SUCCESS)
  
• Run a 10K race (SUCCESS)
  
• Run the Detroit Marathon! (SUCCESS)
  
• Reach my Weight Watchers goal weight (FAIL)
  
• Run as much as humanly possible without injury (SUCCESS...sort of)
  

I feel pretty good about all of this (with the exception of not reaching my Weight Watchers goal weight, but at least I can say I weigh the same as I did a year ago. I'm doing a fabulous job of maintaining the weight I don't want!).

What else did I manage to do this year?

• Ran six 5K races, taking home age group awards in four of them and setting new personal records twice (Shamrocks and Shenanigans in March; A Most Amazing Race in June)
  
• Ran two 10K races, setting a PR at the Dexter-Ann Arbor 10K in June
• Ran the Marine Corps Historic Half with my dad, which was a great experience
  
• Took first place female in the Run for the Rolls, which may be the only time that ever happens, and set a new mile PR as well (6:48)
• Ran 1330.3 total miles, which took 203 hours, 9 minutes, and 36 seconds (average pace: 9:11/mile) and burned 157,983 total calories
  
• Met a few of my fellow run-bloggers in real life (I'm still waiting to meet certain of the rest of y'all)
  
• Made the great leap into the 35-39 age group (does this mean I'm officially in my mid-thirties? that's only a stone's throw away from...FORTY)
  

In 2009, I hope to:

• Qualify for the 2010 Boston Marathon at the Cleveland Marathon in May
• Run a sub-1:50 half marathon
• Run a sub-50:00 10K
• Set another new 5K PR (less than 22:44)
• OR break 22:00 in a 5K (this would be decidedly the more awesome of the two)
  
• Run 1500 miles for the year
• Run at least one race each month
  

I turned in just over 5 miles this morning as my last run of the year, a run through freshly-fallen snow and occasional swirling flurries mixed with bright sunshine. Fleet Foxes' "White Winter Hymnal" came on my iPod as I traversed a stretch of sidewalk with my shadow on the snow in front of me. It was a fitting way to wrap up the year.

In 11 days I launch my training for Cleveland. My nearly three months of the Do Whatever I Feel Like "plan" are almost over. It's time to get down to business. The business of BQ.

Happy New Year, everyone!

I shall conclude with my favorite photos of the past year.

During the Meteor 10K (April)

My Dad and I after the Marine Corps Historic Half (May)

Finishing the Dexter-Ann Arbor 10K in 50:00 (new PR) (June)

Hill work in Dexter with the RF501 Gang (July)

With my plaque for winning the women's Run For The Rolls 1-mile (August)

During my first 20-mile run (September)

Finishing the Detroit Marathon in 3:52:01 (October)

In my Obsessed Runner "costume" on Halloween (October)

And one which has not yet been seen: At the Chelsea/Dexter RF501 end-of-season party. I won a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon (aka "PBR," aka "Pretty Bad Refreshment") in a random drawing. Victor traded me for a bottle of Unibroue Maudite for the remainder of the sixer at the conclusion of the evening. I think I got the better end of that deal.

Happiness Is...

• Getting out for a nice 6-mile run in agreeable temperatures
• Going to see a really good movie at my favorite movie theater and being able to order and consume a Magic Hat #9 Not-Quite-Pale-Ale IN THE THEATER
  
• Finding a six-pack of Brooklyn Brewing Co. Black Chocolate Stout at the local beverage store which I immediately dug into as soon as I got back to my parents'
  
• Knowing that the weather forecast for tomorrow has projected highs in the MID-SIXTIES (hello, long run!)

What's making you happy this week?

First Run of Winter

The view from my front window about 11:00 am today

Even though it didn't really seem like it given the weather for the past month, yesterday was officially the first day of winter. It arrived in style, heralded by the Storm of December '08 on Friday, which deposited about a foot of snow on my fair city.

Seeing that I am on vacation until January 5 (HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAA), I am taking full advantage of my string of days off by running as much as I can in the mornings. When I got up today (9:00 am, ahhhhhh) it seemed like a perfect morning for a long run.

Yes, it does say "12 degrees." And that was after I came back!

Late last night around bedtime it was zero degrees F and the wind was blowing ferociously. This morning, however, the wind had died down, the temperature had crept up (it was 10 degrees when I headed out) and there were intermittent flurries of big poofy flakes. I put on my best winter running outfit and hit the roads. I went over to the other side of town to part of the 8-mile loop that I ran twice a week during marathon training, a route I had not trod in nearly three months. My favorite port-a-potty was missing from the athletic fields, not that I would have dared expose any extra body parts to the elements even if I had found myself in a dire emergency (fortunately, no issues this time). The snow waxed and waned and I could feel both it and the vapor from my breath collecting and freezing on my face. As soon as I got back I took a picture before the crust melted.

I had icicles in my hair all the way around. Gotta love winter!

My Garmy and Me...

You know you're a runner when...you charge your Garmin Forerunner at work.

Garmy is right here next to me, nestled among the pens, Kleenex, lip balm, pads of paper, and stapler, charging up for my group run this evening.

My Garmy, my Garmy, my Garmy and me!

Math Lesson

You ever have one of those moments where everything aligns just so and you're positive it couldn't just be a coincidence, that something greater is at work? This is one of those moments.

Whilst doing my usual blog reading and coffee-drinking this morning, I came across this statement in yet another one of GQH's seemingly endless posts:

You're not exactly dealing with a chimp here! Because if I were a chimp, I'd've produced a Shakespearean play by now, what with all this random typing I do. And I haven't.

Not five minutes earlier my co-worker had shown me the answer to a statistical mechanics problem we had been discussing earlier this week (yes, we're all a bunch of nerds, you wanna make something of it?).

The statistics problem in question?

Suppose that 10^(10th) monkeys have been seated at typewriters throughout the age of the universe, 10^(18^th) seconds. This number of monkeys is about three times greater than the present human population of the earth. We suppose that a monkey can hit 10 typewriter keys per second. A typewriter may have 44 keys; we accept lower case letters in place of capital letters. Assuming that Shakespeare’s Hamlet has 10^(5th) characters, will the monkeys hit upon Hamlet?

a) Show that the probability that any given sequence of 10^(5^th) characters typed at random will come out in the correct sequence of Hamlet is of the order of (1/44) to the power of (10^5) = 10^(-164,345), where log base 10 of 44 =1.64345.

b) Show that the probability that a monkey Hamlet will be typed in the age of the universe is 10^(-164,316). The probability of Hamlet is therefore zero in any operational sense of an event.

Do you see, dear readers, how the heavens (or some approximation thereof) suddenly aligned, and a beam of light shone down and a voice said, You have the answers to all of the statistical mechanics questions in the universe. You have the power to bring this knowledge to the people. Or, one person in particular who thinks that, if he were a chimp, he should have somehow randomly created a work of Shakespeare by now even though he's only been blogging since September of this year.

Overly complicated answers, I has them. Let me show you them.

Note: I am not solving the problem for the probability that a bunch of chimps (or one chimp) will be able to reproduce Shakespeare. I'm only proving what has already been stated, to wit, the probability of such an event occurring within the time frame of the age of the universe is "therefore zero in any operational sense of an event." (gotta love that math language!) I'm proving that GQH, if he were a chimp, could not possibly be able to reproduce a work of Shakespeare, so he should just stick to continuing to be human(?) and writing excessively long posts with lots of footnotes (and maybe, in a few billion years, he'll get lucky).

Part a): 44^(N) possible typewriter key combinations, a sequence of 10^5 keys pressed at random required to duplicate Hamlet, so N = 10^5 and the total number of possible sequences is 44^(10^5)

One possible correct sequence to recreate Hamlet being typed at random by a chimp:

1/(44^(10^5)) = 10^N = (1/44)^(10^5)

Log base 10^N = log(1/44)^(10^5)

Solve for N:

N = -10^5 log(44)

N= -10^5 * (1.64345)

N = -164345

(1/44)^(10^5) = 10^(-164345) which is the probability that even 10^10 monkeys sitting at typewriters throughout the age of the universe (10^18 seconds) would be able to reproduce Hamlet. In case you're wondering, 10 to the negative anything is a small number. 10 to the negative 164,345 is, like, absolute zero¹.

Part b): 10^10 monkeys typing for 10^18 seconds, each hitting 10 keys per second

In 10^18 seconds, 10^29 keys are hit (10^10 + 10^18 + 10^1)

Begin a new sequence each time a key is hit except (10^5)-1

At end of a 10^29 character sequence each 1 character long such that monkeys type 10^29 sequences

Hamlet = 10^5 characters long. Monkeys type (10^29)-(10^5) sequences

Probability of monkey-created Hamlet typed in 10^18 seconds = (10^29) * (10^(-164345)) = 10^(-164316)

(1): Yes, I know absolute zero is a measurement of temperature (-459.67 degrees F, -273.15 deg Celsius, and 0 Kelvin, in case you're wondering). Absolute zero is a state of matter where said matter's molecular energy is minimal; that is, it is characterized by zero entropy and cannot transfer its energy to other systems. What does this have to do with the probability that a chimp will recreate Hamlet? Well, not much, really, (though it might be how y'all are feeling by now after reading this...no energy whatsoever) but I think the concept of absolute zero is fascinating because of what happens to matter when it approaches absolute zero. Y'all ever hear of Bose-Einstein condensates? Superfluidity? NO? OMG, people, Bose-Einstein condensates are SO COOL (literally, HA HA HA...they're cooled to a few billionths of a degree above absolute zero). At that temperature, an entirely new state of matter is created! We're talking quantum mechanics in action, total weirdness! Really awesome, amazing stuff that makes me wish I was a theoretical physicist so I could play with supercooled atoms all day. But I suck at math. :)

Race Report: Holiday Hustle 5K 2008

I am in a race against the clock to finish my tenure in the 30-34 age group on a high note. This means running as hard as I am able in as many races as I can before time expires on my birthday at the end of this month. I have had success in my last two races, taking third in my age group in both the Ann Arbor and the Aurora Turkey Trots. Could I extend my streak to three? And, more importantly, could I cut a few more seconds from my 5K Stubble Time?

Yesterday's Holiday Hustle presented itself as a prime opportunity. Not only was it a mere 15 minutes from my home, but it was one of those rare afternoon races which did not require me to get up at the crack of dawn on a weekend. I drove to Dexter and parked at the place where my RF501 group met for our midweek hill workouts during the summer. I wanted to run the mile to downtown as a warmup. The last time I was on those sidewalks was early October and the footing and climate were much more hospitable. A bitter wind beat against my face and my fingers quickly grew numb as I made my way-- carefully-- toward downtown. A minivan blocked the sidewalk as it waited in a driveway to turn. I went behind it, lost my footing on what turned out to be a solid sheet of ice, and went down hard on my right side. My hip and knee bore the brunt of the impact, and I heard something-- my sleeve? RoadID bracelet? gently skip off the car's bumper. (At least it wasn't my head, eh?) I got up slowly, knee aching, and brushed snow off my tights. The minivan's driver had rolled down her window and asked me if I was all right. I replied that I was, it wasn't that bad, and declined her offer of a ride the rest of the way. (Here's where I should insert one of those "you know you're a runner when..." statements; in this case, "...even after cracking your knee on some ice, you would rather finish your warmup run in sub-freezing temperatures than accept a ride to the start.")

I reached the start area with plenty of time to spare and promptly lost most of the warmth I had generated on my warmup. I saw some of my RF501 peeps (Lorenda, Ted, Lisa, Marie, Erika) and we stood around talking and trying to keep warm until it was time to go. The race wound through the residential side streets of Dexter on an out-and-back route. It started snowing fiercely not long after we started, and my face was peppered with dots of cold as the flakes hit it. Then the wind kicked up and made things even more unpleasant. I hit mile 1 in 7:28. I was going to have to pick it up if I wanted to beat my time from the Ann Arbor Turkey Trot (23:10). Around mile 2 I developed a very annoying and painful cramp in my torso; it felt like a band had tightened around my ribcage and was squeeeezing the air out of me. I chugged onward, trying to take deep belly breaths and expand my ribcage to shake off the cramp. It helped slightly. The final push to the finish was a nice gradual downhill and I increased my pace until I was huffing and puffing and I stopped Garmy at 23:20 when I crossed the line, which turned out to be my chip time as well. I was disappointed that I had not bested my Turkey Trot time nor shaved any more stubble off my 5K; it remained to be seen if I placed in my age group. After standing around in the fading late afternoon light and getting colder and colder the initial results were posted on the side of a nearby building. I muscled my way up to the front of the crowd and saw that I had placed fifth-- good enough for an award-- in my age group. Score! I got a dark red tree ornament for my efforts.

Holiday Hustle 5K Final Stats:
23:20
7:30/mile average
5/63 age group
23/385 women
95/659 overall

Afterward I went to the home of my co-worker, whose house was right on the race route; we ran past it twice. I had some snacks and post-race rehydration (Pilsner Urquell) and then I had to go home and change because I was due in Ann Arbor for the Michigan Lady Food Bloggers Holiday Cookie Exchange Extravaganza. I came home with a huge container full of delicious treats. I spent the morning baking my own contributions (visible in lower right: container with dark and light brown cookies, and pecan snowballs in adjacent container).

I run so I can eat cookies and not feel guilty.

Edited to add: There seems to be some doubt about my claim that I, the consummate potty-mouth, somehow managed to not curse a blue streak when my knee and hip cruelly made acquaintance with the hard, cold ground. Such an occasion should have been the stage on which the most colorful phrases of my life would have made their début! However, as astounding as it seems, this was not the case. I was, sadly, capable only of the milquetoast utterance "Oh, dear. Ouch." Take that, doubting Glavens.

Hockey Night in Michigan

Last night good fortune shone on me. My sister-in-law came into unexpected possession of her company's season tickets to last night's Detroit Red Wings game, and thus I found myself yesterday evening with her and John in seats six feet from the glass in Joe Louis Arena. I confess I know almost nothing about hockey and wouldn't even consider myself a Red Wings fan (though I was the only one of the three of us who wore anything red) but the excitement of being that close to the action on the ice was infectious. Our seats were located by a side face-off circle near one of the goals so we were able to see a great deal of goal-area scuffling. The first time two players hit the boards in front of me I was startled by how loud it was. The floor under my seat shook with the impact. I could barely follow the action; the puck moved too fast and I would often find myself staring at the person whom I thought had the puck only to find a whole different set of people were fighting over it in another area. I gave up trying to follow what was going on strategically and just watched the players move up and down the ice. It was like waves rocking back and forth: a cluster of people swept past, bunched up around one goal, then someone broke away and headed for the other end of the ice and everyone followed only to cluster around the other goal. Back and forth, gliding, ice shaved by skate blades fanning into the air, the frantic clacking of sticks as five guys fought over the puck, resounding thuds as people went into the boards, the earsplitting crack when the puck itself hit the glass, huge pileups in front of the goal as everyone in the arena started screaming, enormous guys turned freakishly nimble on narrow strips of metal.

The mood when we arrived was subdued because the Wings were down 2-0. At the end of the second period they were still down 2-1. Then the Calgary Flames scored another goal in the third period, putting them up 3-1. However, the Wings scored two more goals, tying the game and sending it into overtime, to the delight of the crowd, which had gotten more vocal and feisty as the game wore on (probably because everyone was on their second or third beer, or, in the case of the obnoxious loudmouth a few rows behind us, fourth or fifth). Overtime ended in sudden death in the Wings' favor when Nicklas Lidstrom sent a huge blast into the goal right in front of us and the place erupted. Detroit 4, Calgary 3.

Beer snob alert: when we arrived, our first stop was at one of the booze-dispensing stations near our section. I scanned the available beer options and decided I would not stoop to the level of Miller Lite or Molson. If those were my only choices, I would rather not have anything at all than force myself to drink that swill. I have standards, darn it! Excessively high standards, some might argue, but my mantra is "Life is too short to drink bad beer." However, later on, I discovered a different place that had Leinenkugel's Sunset Wheat on draft so I had a big cup of that. It wasn't truly ideal but it was better than Miller Lite (shudder).

The only other Red Wings game I have ever been to was also courtesy of my sister-in-law; in that case, we were in a corporate suite up in the rafters of the building where the food was free and all-you-can-eat and the bar was open (and all-you-can-drink...hoo boy) but the view was not so great. I must say I preferred being down on the floor close enough to smell the grime on the players' uniforms, even if it meant paying $8.75 for one beer (that was supposed to be 24 ounces but there was no way that cup was 24 ounces. More like 18. 20, maximum).

We caught glimpses of ourselves on the Jumbotron a couple of times. Mostly, though, the Jumbotron was showing, during non-action moments, what John dubbed "JiggleVision." I'll let you speculate as to why.

Best of all, we got out of the parking garage and were on the Lodge Freeway heading north in less than 10 minutes. It was awesome!

In other news, this weekend I'm running the Holiday Hustle 5K in Dexter. Time is quickly running out on both my tenure in the 30-34 age group as well as opportunities to Shave my 5K Stubble Time more than the nine seconds I already shaved.

Cleveland Rocks!

Here we go, folks. My quest for the 2010 Boston Marathon begins.

Registration Confirmation for:

Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon, Half Marathon & 10K

Dear Sarah,

Congratulations! You are now registered for Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon, Half Marathon & 10K. Please check the event's official website for updates: http://www.clevelandmarathon.com

Event Name: Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon, Half Marathon & 10K
Date & Time: May 17, 2009 07:00 AM
Location: St. Clair/E. 13TH St. Near the Galleria Mall (map)

Packet Pickup Information

Location:

Cleveland Convention Center
Hall D
500 Lakeside Ave E.
Cleveland, OH 44114

Dates/Times:
Friday, May 15, 2009 from 11:00 AM - 7:00 PM
Saturday, May 16, 2009 from 10:00 AM - 6:00 PM

NO RACE DAY PACKET PICK UP

Foreshadowing

When I was at my parents' for Thanksgiving I rummaged around in one of the crawlspaces in their house and unearthed a few boxes of ancient history. I spent a couple of hours flipping through old school papers ("The Story of the Oregon Trail"), old magazines ("1989: The Year in Pictures"), my 4-H rabbit club stuff, and lots of high school cross country memorabilia. I also found, in one of my many sketchbooks (remember, this was back when I thought I was going to be an artist; I spent nearly all of my free time drawing), this pair of sketches.

There you have it, people: my thoughts on running circa 1985, long before running ever became a central part of my life.

In other news, last night John and I had dinner with Big and Lil. They drove down here and met us at the Common Grill where they got to experience first-hand the rolls for which I ran my ass off in the Run for the Rolls. I don't think John was too overwhelmed by all of the running talk. What does one expect when 75% of the people present are runners? LOL. GUys, I hope we see each other again!

I also have to share this awesome picture, taken on the morning of the Detroit Marathon. Thanks Erika!


And this one, which is my favorite picture from the RF501 summer session, and probably one of my favorite running pictures ever. Marie, you rock!


And this is just for my Michigan homies: WHEN IS IT GOING TO STOP SNOWING?

Race Report: Aurora Turkey Trot 2008 (And More!)

Howdy folks. It's been a while, yes? I had myself some top-quality running over the past week.

First, last Wednesday I took the day off and thus I was able to rise at a late hour (8:00 am, oooh) and go for a nice four-mile run before heading to my hometown in Ohio for the holiday. The novel factor here was that I was not running in the predawn darkness. Daylight, how curious! What's that bright disk in the sky?

Second, the Aurora Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day. I did this race last year and because I was going to be in Ohio I decided to have at it again. I looked at my time (33:16) and figured I would aim to beat that, and if I was having a really good day I would strive for a sub-32:00 finish. I wasn't expecting much because I haven't felt especially fleet of foot lately.

Thursday morning dawned clear and bitterly cold, which was a change from last year's horrible wintry mix conditions. The thermometer in the car on the way to Aurora oscillated between 20 and 25 degrees. Luckily (obviously) I had packed a bag of running clothes in every combination imaginable in preparation for any weather eventuality (it was northeast Ohio, after all) and thus I had my favorite cold-weather racing outfit on hand for the conditions.

Due to my inability to remember anything, I had forgotten to let Garmy spend the night nestled in its charging cradle and as such it was completely dead come race morning. I was going to be (gasp) running blind. I was going to be forced to pay attention to the way my body felt and run accordingly. The horror! (Have I...become too dependent on modern technology?!)

Shortly before the race, after my dad and I picked up our race packets (a bag of coupons for the outlet mall, gee, how exciting) I randomly bumped into an old friend of mine from high school. I had not seen her in several years so that was a nice surprise. To my shock and awe she was wearing the marching band-issue sweatpants from our Flag Corps days (yes, folks, I was a "flag girl" in the marching band my junior year, and yes, I was as nerdy as you may imagine, I mean, come on).

This race has the most unattractive starting area of any in which I have participated: the shipping alley behind the Aurora Premium Outlets. Hooray for Dumpsters and loading docks! (and random bits of trash...and empty cardboard boxes...)

During the first mile, we passed a group of people playing a game of touch football. I thought, Look at those nutjobs...who plays football in the snow in 20-degree weather at 8:30 am on Thanksgiving Day? On further reflection, I thought: Well, they're probably thinking the same thing about us: "Who goes and runs a road race in 20-degree weather at 8:30 am on Thanksgiving Day? What a bunch of weirdos."

I revel in my weirdness! (and nerdiness, but y'all knew that already.)

A man at mile 1 called out "7:30" as I passed. This surprised me. I knew my true mile split was probably a few seconds less because it had taken me a while to cross the starting line from my position in the pack. OK, I thought, doing better than expected. Let's go with this, then. Mile 2: 15:00 for another 7:30 mile. Mile 3: a long uphill grind, and at the top it was 22:54 (7:54 split) with one mile to go. I increased my turnover and hit my lactate threshold. It started to burn, but I was almost done. As I approached the finishing chute (yes, a finishing chute, this was a really old-school race, tearing tags off bibs and putting them on a stick and everything) I saw the timing clock in the 29:XX range! I crossed the finish line in 29:40, which blew my prerace expectations away. I waited around the finishing area until my dad was done and then I said I knew we had discussed going straight home but I thought I had a good chance of getting an age group award so could we please stay for the awards ceremony? We did, and I did. Receive an age group award, that is. I finished third in my age group and won a trophy. I had not won a trophy since some cross-country invitational in high school. It was totally awesome.

The world's ugliest race shirt ever. This color (pumpkin? burnt orange? baby poop?) does not look good on me. But the trophy looks great! Note: this shirt was instantly classified as "internal use only" where "internal" means "inside the house; never to be seen outside where its brazen hue could sear the eyeballs of unsuspecting passersby."

Following the receipt of hardware, we returned home where brunch (Dutch baby and bacon, mmmm, bacon) and coffee (lots of coffee) were waiting.

Final race stats:

4 miles
29:40 (7:25/mile)
3/24 age group
12/171 women
62/336 overall

Incidentally, the overall winner finished in 19:28, which is a 4:52 average pace. Yow!

And speaking of fast paces, look at my last mile. I hit the 3rd mile at 22:54. I finished in 29:40. That's a 6:46 mile, which is two seconds faster than my race-winning effort in the Run for the Rolls in August. What the hell, people, what the hell?

Saturday morning I bundled up in my "if you look good you feel good" outfit and headed out for a long run. It was a runner's dream (well, this runner, anyway): about 30 degrees, nice and sunny, no wind, clear pavement. I cranked out ten miles, listening to my iPod the whole way, and finished in just under an hour and a half. It felt so good. I can't wait for my vacation later this month. Oh yeah, did I tell y'all? I GET 17 DAYS OFF IN A ROW, PEOPLE. And I am going to go running EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. In the DAYLIGHT. OMGBBQ!!!!111!!!!

THAT is why I hoard my vacation time like Scrooge all year. So I can blow my vacation wad like John Holmes all at once. Yeah.

If A Garmin Falls In The Forest

...and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Or will it make a sound even if there is someone there who should hear it?

Answer: No.

Don't worry, this story ends well, unlike the sad debacle that was the Michigan-Ohio State game. Or at least the UM-OSU game ended well for some people who will remain nameless THOUGH YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

I decided I needed a change of scenery for my long run Saturday so I drove up to the Lakelands Trail State Park in Stockbridge. It was a brilliant, frigid late fall morning; the temperature was around 25 degrees. The trail was covered with snow, but I had a pair of YakTrax so I was not worried about slipping. I wanted to do at least 10 miles if not 12 on this lovely straight, level, out-and-back path. My iPod was freshly charged and beefed up with some new tunes and I set out at a nice casual pace. My fingers promptly froze and then thawed out around mile 2.

Around mile 3 I felt the familiar twinges of the beast in my gut and knew that sooner or later I was going to have to pull over. Fortunately the trail passes through rural farmland and woods so I was assured of privacy (and of course there was no one else out there on the trail with me-- only crazy people go running when it's that cold). I peeked at Garmy at 3.74 miles and just after mile 4 I took my leave to the side of the trail. I battled briefly with some groping thorn bushes that wanted to do away with my earband and sank their teeth into my nice New Balance NBx top-- goddammit let GO, fuckers!-- and took care of Business. I was back on the trail and feeling much better when I looked down at my wrist because something about it felt odd, sort of light and airy, and suddenly my good mood vanished, vaporized like my breath in the cold air, because Garmy was no longer on my arm.

PANIC! DEFCON ONE! TERROR ALERT RED! OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!

I screeched to a halt and turned around. Wild thoughts blew through my head: It can't be that far away, because I just looked at it at 3.74 miles, and I know that wasn't that far back, I took my pit stop just after mile 4, it has to be close by, OH PLEASE LET IT BE CLOSE BY OH MY GOD! I ran back the way I came, eyes frantically scanning back and forth across the trail. I knew its black band would stand out against the white snow. I thought: I wonder if it fell on the ground when I was going to the bathroom? Those bushes were pretty grabby, maybe one got a hold of it in just the right place and popped it off my wrist. I began looking for the spot where I had stopped. Everything looked the same: tangled bare twigs, lumpy snow. Would I be able to find it? I stopped again. I knew I had gone too far. I turrned around. There. There it was. The place where I had stopped. And LO AND BEHOLD, THERE WAS GARMY LYING IN THE SNOW. I thrashed through the bushes and snatched it up. It was still faithfully whirring along (my pace was now 17:30/mile) and I brushed the clumps of snow from its face and wrapped it around my wrist so tightly it hurt. Oh, Garmy, I almost lost you!

For the remainder of my run (I ended up doing 12 miles-- 12 agonizingly slow, ankle-bending, knee-twisting miles over the very uneven trail, uneven because horse hooves have ripped it to shreds and the cloaking snow cover lay just so in all the cavities) I remained extra-conscious of its presence, sneaking peeks at it constantly, swinging my arm farther out so I could see its red case out of the corner of my eye.

Strange coincidence of the day: as I was listening to the Fleet Foxes' "White Winter Hymnal" I came across a trail of blood spanning the path; I suspected a wounded deer had crossed there. It's firearm deer hunting season in Michigan and I wasn't surprised to find this. The bright red blood stood out alarmingly against the snow. There is a line in "White Winter Hymnal" that says "turn the white snow red as strawberries in summertime." How freakishly weird that just as I heard it, I came across the blood trail, yes, red as strawberries against the white snow.

Speaking of snow, it's snowing here. Again.

Oh, and this is my 200th post. Yippee!

Past Lives

Viper recently re-revealed he used to be a hockey player (and then upbraided his readership by chiding us for not remembering this tidbit of personal information).

Which got me thinking. Many of us have long-buried talents, childhood aspirations, lost dreams. For most of my life I wanted to be an artist. Instead, when I reached college I became a geologist. Art faded into the background. Then, in the summer of 1996, I went to northwest Wyoming for a month to live at a guest ranch and conduct field work for my undergraduate honors thesis as a participant in a Keck Geology Consortium project. That trip changed my life in many ways. To give you all a hint of just how much, when I die, I want my ashes to be thrown from the bridge over the Sunlight Gorge and into the river below. Sunlight Creek merges with the Clarks Fork River and the Clarks Fork empties into the Bighorn Basin. I did field work from one end of the valley to the other.

The Clarks Fork River valley, my most treasured place in this world. The Clarks Fork River runs through the deep gorge in the right-hand side of the picture; Sunlight Creek runs through the cut visible in the foreground (if you enlarge the picture you can just barely make out the bridge over the gorge on the left. Follow the highway and you'll see it.) They join just out of sight on the other side of that hill.

Towards the end of the project, after I had collected my samples, I accompanied some of my project-mates to their field area as a fun, leisurely activity. With nothing better to do, I found myself drawing in my field notebook. Soon enough my simple sketches had blossomed into art like I hadn't made in years. My field notebook became the one place where my artistic talent, long-unused, could flourish.

The mouth of the Clarks Fork River, Wyoming. A spectacular exposed tilted sequence of Paleozoic strata is visible. That sort of thing is enough to make a geologist squeal with delight.

The same section, viewed from the ground. This picture was aken by John in 1994 during the University of Michigan's summer geology field camp, two years before I made my drawing.

Clarks Fork Canyon, Wyoming, slightly upstream from the previous picture.

The Clarks Fork canyon. I took this picture the day I made my sketch.

I went to western Ireland after graduation in 1997 for five weeks for my geology field camp experience. There were 25 of us living at a educational center in the small village of Clonbur. I learned to drink beer at the pubs in the village, where we would go in the evenings after dinner and homework were complete. Lush Ireland, as far as drawing went, was the opposite of dry, brown, rocky Wyoming. My sketches, though predominantly different shades of green, still brought me pleasure in their creation.

Finny, County Mayo, Ireland.

Lough Corrib, near Clonbur, County Galway, Ireland.

Once my learnin' days were over (I finished my MS in 2000), my drawin' days were too. The last entry in my field book is from May 12, 2000, ending the renaissance of drawing in my life.

Sometimes I think I should have continued with drawing, somehow combining my love of rocks with my love of art. How could I fit opera singing and running in there, too? That would be one wacky career.

(P.S. Ohio State 42, Michigan 7. I knew it was a very, very long shot to hope for a big win to put a shine on this awful season, but it was not meant to be. I will, however, continue in the grand tradition of Clevelanders by saying, "Wait until next year!" Your team won this round, sir...but watch out.)

(P.P.S. For those truly gluttonous for punishment, here's my thesis research from the 1997 Keck Symposium conference volume. Yeah, I was-- and still am-- a total nerd.)

White Winter Hymnal

(With apologies to Fleet Foxes.)

The snow fell on Sunday, huge lazy drifting flakes that gently covered the last remains of fall's scattered leaves. The bird feeders grew puffy helmets; a male cardinal paused for some sunflower seeds, bright red against the white. I, in my Sunday not-so-best (comfy pants and fleece), spent the day ensconced in warmth, feet tucked into wool clogs, nestled in a blanket on the sofa with the two tabbies by my side. Guilt at not going out for a long run nagged at me only slightly. I was having a difficult time coming to grips with the sudden change of seasons. I knew that the surprise Indian summer weather of two weeks ago would never last; however, I just wasn't prepared to have winter shoved in my face so soon.

Monday morning when I released the hound into the backyard at 5:45 the frigid air reached in through the open door and slapped me in the face. A few flakes were still spiraling out of the sky and my motivation to go out withered, black and dead as the leaves on my basil plant after the first frost. I fled for the warmth and safety of the gym where I did three insufferable miles on the treadmill and then caught up on my celebrity gossip with Us Magazine while pedaling on the recumbent bike.

This morning I steeled myself. No more of this lackadaisical foolishness. The cold weather is here to stay and I need to accept that it will be around for five more months. I cannot run on the treadmill all winter.

I strapped myself into my cold-weather best (Asics Thermopolis pants, Pearl Izumi thick base layer, Asics Storm Shelter jacket, Sugoi neck tube, hat, gloves) and stepped onto the crackling snow on my doorstep. It was 19 degrees F. The sky was clear, the stars brilliant. The nearly full moon hung low in the sky, its still-bright light making the fresh snow glow. My breath plumed in the cold as I crunched down my driveway. I set off and the cold air burned into my lungs, brought a flood of tears to my eyes. My fingers and nose grew numb and protested this cruel treatment.

By mile 1 I was warm inside my clothes, the first beads of sweat moistening the band of my hat. By mile 2 the first hint of light appeared on the eastern horizon, the coming sunrise ready to do battle with the moonlight casting my shadow ahead of me, blue on the snow. The streets of my town were deserted; only the truly brave, hardcore, or insane would venture out on foot at this hour, in this cold. By mile 3 I thought: Why did I wait this long? Why did I fight so hard? This is delicious and refreshing! By mile 4 I felt like I could have run 4 more, but alas, duty called and I crunched up the driveway in the opposite direction.

I am now ready to take on the worst a Michigan winter has to offer. Bring it.

Spreading Far and Wide

My little blog is turning up in unexpected places these days!

When I started this blog almost a year and a half ago I did not anticipate that more than a handful of people, mainly close friends and family, would ever bother reading it. Who would want to listen to me complain about weight loss and running road races, of all things? Why would anyone be the least bit interested in what kind of shoes I wear or the things I eat? (speaking of that green lentil soup, I made it for dinner the other night and it was, as always, fabulous.)

Now I have y'all, my fellow running bloggers (or would that be blogging runners?)-- close by, far away, some I've met in person, others I hope to someday (soon!), fellow foodies, boozers, beer lovers (those last two might be interchangable, actually), the similarly tabby-obsessed, the inspirational, the hilarious, and everything in between. I'm continually flattered and pleased that you take the time to stop by this sweaty, smelly corner of the blogosphere.

Font of All Useless Knowledge

Scene: the gym, about 6:30 am this morning. I am rifling through the piles of magazines for some reading material for my elliptical session. I find the latest issue of Us Magazine (OMG Jessica Alba's post-baby diet! style tips from Lauren Conrad!) and then unearth the holy grail of gym magazines: Runner's World! I pull it out and then look quizzically at the cover. "London Marathon! Khalid Khannouch breaks his world record and sets new world record of 2:05:38!"

Wait a minute...I think. Exactly how OLD is this magazine? Haile Gebrselassie just set the world record of 2:03:59 in Berlin at the end of September and he broke the world record he set in Berlin last year!

I flip rapidly through the interior of the magazine and discover it's from July 2002. (Why a six-year-old magazine is at my gym, I have no idea.) This magazine is so old Deena Kastor is still shown as Deena Drossin!

Then I think, Oh my god...I have achieved a new level of dorkdom. Not only did I instantly know this magazine had to be hopelessly out of date because of the obsolete marathon world record on the cover, I knew the name of the current record holder, his world record time, and the race at which he ran it.

I am not sure whether to be proud of or kind of scared of the fact that I know these things.

Edited to add: ALL RIGHT I CONFESS, I LOVE CELEBRITY GOSSIP. OKAY? I'm sorry to burst y'all's bubble, but I am NOT the intellectual and cultural snob you think I am. I read Us Magazine (and OK! and In Touch when I find them) at the gym and every single day I visit my favorite celeb gossip Web site: The Superficial. I have to stay abreast of all celebrity news.