Have You Been to Wegmans?

I have died and gone to Mecca, and it has a gourmet cheese section the size of my house. My mother has been going on about the new Wegmans grocery store near her for months now (she talks like it's like going to a spa for a day of beauty) and today she took us there to worship. When my son leaves somewhere in a tantrum because he's having so much fun, he inevitably howls, "I want to live there!" And this is exactly how I felt when Brian had to drag me out as I was drooling over the case of fancy butters. Wegmans is the Williams Sonoma of grocery stores, like a Harrods food hall for people who wear jeans (that is, Americans). I thought I had a nice supermarket, but now I see I've been slumming it, and Hannaford is for shmucks. (I'll have to continue being one of them until we get a Wegmans in the Merrimack Valley.)

Here's what I learned at Wegmans:

1. There are about 15 different kinds of butter, and this doesn't include anything that starts with the words "I can't believe it's not..."

2. People hate you if you push your kid in one of those carts with the car at the front. They aren't just annoyed; they hate you like you were responsible for genocide. I have never seen such loathing directed at me in a grocery store.

3. A childcare center in a grocery store is not just a pipe dream.

4. Rum balls are every bit as delicous as I remembered.

Sooner or Later

Yesterday Brian and I hit up the grandparents for some childcare so we could see only the 4th movie we've seen together at a theater without Henry since he was born (pathetic, we know). We went to see Juno, which is without a doubt the best movie I've seen since Little Miss Sunshine. Clearly, my tastes tend toward comedic pathos, and I instantly took to Juno because she reminds me of my friend Janis from high school (in a snarky-and-acerbic, not a 16-and-pregnant, kind of way). It was one of those movies where you get home and buy the soundtrack from iTunes and listen to the whole thing on your 10.44-mile run regardless of its peppiness because you want to ponder the movie and your own pathetic high school life, which thank God, did not involve pregnancy and adoption. The first track is actually a great running song ("All I Want is You" by Barry Louis Polisar), and most of the rest are so funny that I wasn't slowed by their folkiness (I did have to skip the forever heinous "All the Young Dudes" by Mott the Hoople which I'd never known the name of but always knew I hated like nails on a blackboard).

Brian and I realized that we have a really pleasant run together when we both use iPods (we're happily married, I swear) and get to enjoy the serendipity of Shuffle taking us to the same song simultaneously. I hope it doesn't mean anything that the song happened to be Johnny Cash's version of "God's Gonna Cut You Down," in which the Man in Black frequently returns to the refrain:

You can run on for a long time,
run on for a long time,
run on for a long time,
but sooner or later,
God'll cut you down.

It was a relief to complete the run with that bit of spookiness around mile six.

Fickle in Virginia

You know what they say: if you don't have anything interesting to say, talk about the weather...

We're still on Holiday Family Tour 2007, spending the week in Richmond, and I'm finding this weather a bit difficult to nail down. Up north, we just freeze for four (okay, six) months and pile on our wicking/insulating/shell layers without thinking. It's a whole other story down south, I'm learning. So Christmas day was a glorious 50 degrees and I ran in just one shirt for the first time in ages, thinking, "I love Virginia! I want to live in Virginia! Three cheers for Virginia!" Then I remembered the summers here and was just happy to have a little winter warmth for running on this trip.

Yesterday, man, was like Mother Nature decided to test my mettle. "She calls herself a runner, but let's see if she gets her ass of the couch for this one!" And I did! I dragged myself (and my poor suffering spouse) out in the cold rain and wind and we did four less enthusiastic miles. I did play the part of sherpa to better acclaim when we encountered several flooded spots in our path, some goose poop (why do I always get back to excrement?), and a large branch in his way. There was no yelling or swearing (Henry does not come by his potty mouth naturally), and we celebrated our burned calories by consuming five times more at a restaurant sans Henry last night. (If I'd known you can get loads of free babysitting by living near grandparents I might have reconsidered buying a house so far away. Why don't the baby books mention this?)

Today it's back to 50 and sun. With this weather and the available free babysitting, I decided that I will store miles like a chipmunk hordes nuts before winter and just run as much as I can before we're back to snow and ice. Unfortunately for Brian's knees, he's coming along to keep me company. Good thing his mom bought two bags of frozen green beans.

A Mortified and Merry Christmas

In case you were feeling embarrassed by any of your children around extended family this holiday...

This afternoon at Christmas dinner, surrounded by my in-laws, a beautiful meal, and a lavishly decorated table, my son invoked his favorite new phrase for no particular reason: "Stop, for the love of God!" Happy birthday, Jesus.

Merry Christmas!

p.s. I put in four miles this afternoon. I'm such a bad ass running fool.

What Entitles Me to a Pecan Pie With a Half Cup of Corn Syrup

I am a firm believer in the argument that claims you can distinguish the best runners because they're the ones with the least equipment. In a race, there are the folks at the front with the little bitty shorts and the flimsy singlets, shoes that I would wear to jazz dance class as a kid, and maybe some dainty gloves if it's cold. I am not one of these people. I consider my equipment minimal in that on long runs, I carry a fuel belt, an iPod, a cell phone, and now (drum roll) a Garmin 305 Forerunner!!!!! We celebrated Christmas this morning with my parents before heading to Brian's parents in Richmond tomorrow, and spoiled brat that I am, I got a Forerunner from my dad. Yippee! And as long as you allow the thing to charge, you really can use it right out of the box, because Brian and I went out for a 10-miler 90 minutes after we finished opening gifts.

And I'm glad it charged in half the time the manual said it would take because we endured a misty, occasionally rainy but oh-so-precisely measured, run before the heavy downpour started shortly after we got home. In my opinion, there's nothing like a snazzy new piece of gear to help me through a rainy long run. We could assess our pace whenever we wanted, knew exactly when to turn around and come home even though we hadn't scouted a route ahead of time, and pick it up to a 7:38 pace for the last mile. Brian wasn't so thrilled with that last part, but I was happy to haul his ass after he yelled at me for steering him in the general proximity of a puddle in his foggy-and-wet-lensed blindness (he's got no vision whatsoever in the rain). How was I to know he couldn't see Lake Superior 12 inches from his feet? Needless to say, the final 3 to 4 miles were spent in quiet meditation (i.e., the silent treatment).

I am so happy to have survived a 10-miler without too much effort after two weeks without a long run and my prior long run only being 8 miles. I was kind of nervous when we started, but we went out smart (i.e., slow) at first and finished well with a negative split, thanks in part to the Forerunner and some spousally induced adrenaline.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, Kristina...Okay, so we did 10 miles in 1:28, which felt good and strong, so that when we got home, I gleefully baked a calorically obscene pecan pie, showered Brian in Reese's peanut butter cups, and got the gluttony started with a good effort. My intention is to eat a negative split over the next week, meaning I want to end the holiday week consuming fewer calories than I did at the beginning of the week. With some stretching and ice (in my drinks), I think I might just be able to do it.

A Couplet for Daphne

Genius of massage, Daphne, Daphne
You turn my limbs to cooked spaghetti

In preparation for the stress of Christmas merriment, I treated myself to a massage from Daphne today. I know most sensible people get a massage after a long run, and I'm due for a 10-miler in the rain tomorrow, but my schedule required me to get the massage today or never. I'm thinking now, though, that my stretched and pliant muscles will be better off having had it prior to the run, even though I'll probably want one afterwards, too.

My mind wanders to all kinds of crazy places during a massage, and I often have to drag it back from lands of anxiety and woe. I tend to think things like, "Shame on you. Your husband's had the week from hell (or wherever it's really snowy and miserable, like say, northwest of Boston) and is now driving 8 hours to be with you, and you're lying on a massage table."

On the subject of the massage itself, though, two things struck me during my hour of bliss. First, the last time I had a massage that worked on my IT Band was in June, and the experience was indeed work. I was tight and sore, and though the massage did wonders, I knew my injury was still there. Today, though, was a completely different story, with my ITB feeling not too bad for a runner's tendon. Dare I say it felt okay?

Second, I told Daphne about my heel problem, and her sense of my heel was that I have less padding on the spot where it hurts due to overpronation, that it isn't a plantar what's-it situation, and that it should be addressed by a podiatrist wielding a piece of carefully placed foam, not a heel insert that causes me additional pain. I love Daphne, don't you? The news was so great to hear that I will even overlook her reasonable concern that my injuries are partly due to aging.

So Daphne is an angel with fingers that should be insured for a million bucks. And I am a young and healthy running diva! A healthy body was all I wanted to have this Tuesday morning, and I got my Christmas wish three days early. Anyone want to go for a jog? Merry Christmas!

Happy to See "F"

You know how handy indexes are at the backs of your books? They help you find passages on exactly what you interests you. Today, I'm compiling someone's index while Henry makes a gingerbread house and tests the limits of his Nani's patience. Writing an index is Bori---zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, sorry nodded off for a second--ng. I told myself I could go for a much needed run when I got to 'F,' and here I am, having just finished "ethnography" and on my way to "family planning." I have never been so excited to run in the cold! I am so ecstatic to be somewhere there is no snow, too, since we have about 2 1/2 feet of snow on the ground in Massachusetts.

I hear giggles and squeals downstairs so I better make sure my mother isn't tied up in a chair being forcefed gingerbread...

Ever Fly With a Wandering 3-Year-Old?

Actually, Henry's behavior today when I flew with him to see my parents was nothing short of stellar, despite my anxiety about his tendencies to wander off and explore whatever interests him. He was mesermerized by almost every aspect of the airport/airplane experience, including the moving walkways and tray table that he reluctantly but cooperatively returned to its upright position. Removing his shoes for security struck him as odd, but he didn't object. Now he's in bed, enveloped by his fantasy bedding: pastel pink and purple blankets, with pink flowery sheets, and a crocheted blanket of--what else--flowers. When he saw the bed, he said, "This is just what I always wanted my bed to be! I always wanted flower covers, Nani!" Man, I love that child.

Despite his breakout performance in the role of Model Child, I am totally bushed from the trip. So, no running quotes to offer today. Posting might be sporadic for the next week, since we're away from home and my daily preschool schedule of "run and rant" from 9:30-11. My goal is for my running to be more frequent than my blogging, but Christmas cookies are much more appealing than fitness.

I'll just quickly note that I've received responses from coolrunning and active.com, both of which promise to locate what I refer to as my "security blanket mileage," but I'm more or less "in like" with mapmyrun.com anyway so there's no major rush to retrieve it.

4 Things That Interest Me Today

1. At the risk of starting another web brawl during the season of love and kindness: I don't want to tread on old broken eggshells, but I just read a review of the AirDrives headphones that claims they allow the wearer to perceive ambient noise while not sacrificing on the sound quality of music coming from an iPod. The reviewer tried them while running and biking and explained he could hear every approaching car (or other source of noise) in his environment. That's because the ear buds sit outside the ear canal by virtue of being suspended from a loop that wraps around your ear, as opposed to being wedged in the ear, as standard iPod buds do. My H20Audio headphones do the same thing and frankly drive me a little crazy because I think I lose a lot of the sound, but the reviewer insists these are different and better. I don't know that I'll be springing for a pair of headphones that cost $100 at this point (the H20Audio pair and waterproof case were expensive enough) and I do actually hear the traffic with my current headphones, but it's something to keep in mind for a windfall that doesn't go to fixing something in our house.

2. If you use the log service provided by www.coolrunning.com, you'll have noticed this week that they finally got around to transferring all of our logs to active.com, which they've been threatening to do since the fall. I figured the transition would be seamless and my data would be easily retrievable because I took the initiative to sign up for an active.com account ahead of time. I know I'm not the most web-savvy person, but for the life of me, I can't find my old data on the calendar that is supposedly merged with my coolrunning account. I didn't want to be too hastily irked (we all know where that got me with iPod ranting), so I emailed coolrunning to ask for help in locating my data and finding my way around my new active.com account, which I will say is very circuitous regardless of my log woes. Forty-eight hours later, and I've had no helpful response from coolrunning/active.com, so I'm taking my miles to www.mapmyrun.com, which already seems more user friendly: a) they let you sign up with shoes that already have mileage on them, so you don't have to start from scratch and remember to add the previous miles onto the log count; b) they link your log to your routes, which I'd already been keeping track of because I can never remember the mileage of different routes; and c) they have a feature that will calculate your average run quality and effort level, which I used to do on my blog but which wasn't an option on my other log. I know this is boring but I'm peeved about my missing data. I ran those miles, and I like to hold onto them like my son drags his stuffed Baa around with him.

3. I got my heel inserts today from www.heal-that-pain.com and tried them on a treadmill run this afternoon at the gym so I could stop if they didn't work out. When I took them out of the package, I noticed that the literature asks the user to give them 4 weeks to work, which seems like a bloody long time. Especially because they don't tell you how long it takes for the pain caused by the heel inserts to go away. I wore them in my shoes to the gym but couldn't bear to run in them. I was afraid I might injure myself further. It's supposed to relieve pain, is it not? I emailed the company (I'm big on that, as you can tell) to ask what the deal was with the pain in my arch that the inserts caused, and they claim it's part of the process of healing. To quote:
"Some discomfort may be felt when first putting on the Heel Seats. This type of discomfort can be characterized as a slight pressure or aching feeling between the heel and the arch of the foot. This occurs because our patented Fascia Bar rests in that area, which is also where the plantar fascia ligament attaches to the heel of the foot. When you move, the discomfort you feel is the Fascia Bar stretching the damaged plantar fascia ligament, thereby helping to strengthen the tissue and repair the injury. When wearing the Heel Seats you may also experience alternating bouts of pain, with noticeable pain on some days, while on other days there is no pain. This usually occurs in the first four weeks of wearing the Heel Seats as your feet are adapting to the treatment."
Four weeks of more pain than when I started? I don't know that I can take it. It's like walking with a fat Sharpie crosswise at the point where my arch meets my heel (or what I'd imagine that to be). I might just send 'em back and hope for the best.

4. Because this post was totally boring and I'm surprised you made it this far, I will share some eye candy. I have logged some recent miles on the treadmill while watching Casino Royale, which turns out to be a fabulous movie to run by. Action schmaction, as my dad would say (he also says things like "Wowie zookers!" and "If you're looking for something to do..."). Plus, Daniel Craig is my kind of hero, so here's a photo of him in his loveliness to reward you for reading my blathering today. (I prefer the tux to the bathing suit because I have latent Episcopalian sensibilities that make me blush at the thought of posting such an image.)

Enough With the Enabling

After a weekend of excuses, I got up this morning intending to run but with the same old internal whiny monologue. "I have a cooolld." "It's only 17 degrees out there." "It's slippery." "Less is more when training, right?" "This pot of coffee will get cold if I run now, and isn't that wasteful?"

My mother was no help, telling me to take another day off because she's had a cold and hasn't exercised in two weeks. My mother likes solidarity in sloth, but I'm not much better. When I found out a couple friends bailed on their long runs this weekend, I unlaced my shoes faster than you can say, "Bring on the wassail." Yes, my mother tends to think self-indulgence is good for the soul. She used to encourage me to take "mental health days" from school as a teenager and is a firm believer in retail therapy when the going gets tough. Fun, yes. Motivational? Not so much.

But I digress. So I was feeling sorry for my situation this morning when the Dana-Farber coach pointed the team to the ABC News Person of the Week. If you're feeling sluggish and thinking your couch has been lonely all night with no one to sit on it, watch the video that accompanies the story from that link. Not only is this woman awesome, but she can pull off a newsboy cap without looking idiotic. So watch that video, then go for a run, you, you, you.. reasonable person who does not want to be outside in sub-freezing temperatures.

At Least Someone Enjoys the Snow

Another foot of snow!

Cold #2 and Excuse #9

Yesterday afternoon I developed my second cold of the 2007-2008 winter and spent the night fighting off a fever. Because I wasn't sleeping, I came up with the best excuse ever for bailing on my long run yesterday. Did you know that 2008 is a leap year? Yes, ma'am; that means we get an extra day of training to blow off without sacrificing on the total number of running days. Beautiful. It's like getting that extra hour of sleep in the fall, except if you're a parent you never get that extra hour; your kids just wake you up at an ungodly time. I unfortunately cashed in my extra day yesterday, but now I feel less guilty about it. You're welcome to use my excuse; it's transferable.

Excuses

1. It's 16 degrees.
2. It's windy.
3. My heel doesn't feel 100%.
4. It's not yet 16 weeks prior to the marathon, which means I'm not really training yet.
5. I have an editing project I've been putting off.
6. Everyone else bailed, too.
7. Four miles on a treadmill is equivalent to 10 miles outside if you factor in the discipline required to tolerate TM boredom.
8. There's cookie baking to be done.

Winter Sucks

That's the driveway I bitch about on a regular basis. If you've been watching the news, everything they say (about Boston's weather) is true. It took Brian six hours to travel 40 miles home from work last night (he would have made better time on his cross-country skis), and then he was up with the snowblower by 7 am. Much to my amazement, Henry had school, so I dressed in running clothes before dropping him off. When Brian came in from clearing the driveway and told me he didn't get to the sidewalk or front steps, I said I'd be happy to do it, but I also said perhaps the worst possible thing: "I was hoping to go for a run, though, too." The look on his face was a mixture of incredulity, controlled hostility, and fatigue. Oops.

I tried to go for my run but my heel pain, which is low at this point, has kind of shifted to my arch, so I figured I'd shovel for cross-training (squatting, not bending from the waist) instead.

Tomorrow's morning group run (aiming for 10 miles) will be frigid with a high of 28 in the afternoon, and then we're in for more winter nonsense on Saturday night. Thank God for four-wheel drive.

UPDATE: DFMC Group Run is canceled for tomorrow morning. Bugger. Anyone localish want to run 10 miles with me? Anyone nonlocal want to do 10 in solidarity? Did I mention how much winter sucks?

Fun in a Snowstorm

Are you snowed in? I am. And Henry is asleep, which means I could clean or wrap presents or edit something, but that would be silly. A much more productive activity would be to research my blog analytics and see some of the keywords people type in to arrive at my little web site. A lot of people search for running songs, but there are some interesting folks out there who stumble onto my blog. Here are some of the better keyword searches that got people to my site:

peeing [Seriously, you just typed "peeing"? And what does that say about me?]

accident statistics while wearing headphones [It certainly adds to my argument about the paucity of such stats that my blog was listed among the results for that search]

big bottom girls [What?!? Sorry to disappoint you, freaky search person, but while I might fall into that category, I do not take photos of said bottom.]

exercise for big bottom [Can't help you there, but I can tell you what foods to eat to cultivate one.]

hot mama marathon [Yep, you came to the right place. That's me.]

hugging statistics [No clever retort; just thought it was cute that someone wants stats on hugging.]

pee runs out on trampoline [Does that mean you face the problem of wanting to have more pee while on your trampoline, but you just ran out?]

sweaty army socks [Huh?]

what does lola win on run lola run [Roulette; can't remember how much money]

where are the cervics [sic. Dude, go back to 8th grade health class.]

wife training [We can't be trained. Don't you know that we have you trained?]

women dumber during menstrual cycle [Uh, I'm sorry, but you have the wrong number, my friend.]

Shot from the Trot

Brian, my dad, Henry (with Ba the sheep), and I run the Lowell Thanksgiving Day 5k in true non-competitive spirit. My mother was there, too, but she's more of a walking sort of runner, bless her heart, and is thus not pictured. Henry was itching to get out of the stroller after about two minutes, so maybe Brian should have pushed my mom and Henry should have run it.

Why must I always look first at my thighs with disdain in a photo of me running? I think pants are in my future.

Wednesday's Running Quote

I lasted three weeks before quoting Bruce Springsteen, which seems admirable to me. To the bemusement of anyone nearby, I am compelled to sing these lines loudly whenever I hear the song on a run.

"Open up your engines, let 'em roar/
tearin' up the highway like a big old dinosaur"
-from "Cadillace Ranch"

My Identity

I am so not comfortable with my new achievement. I'm used to being mediocre. It's who I am. When I was in the first grade, I had to race Mike Apfelbaum in the hurdles at field day (most of my childhood traumas involve gym class--aren't I lucky?). Halfway through the race, Mike tripped over a hurdle and fell face first on the ground. He was ahead of me at that point, but I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at Mrs. McMillan, our gym teacher, at the finish line, then at the parents on the sideline, and didn't know if I should stop to help him up or keep going. I vividly recall thinking it would be wrong to keep going when this kid was crying next to me, his face covered in dirt, grass, and pebbles. (Mike became a geologist, I think, which is fitting.) That is the kind of athlete and competitor I am. Fortunately, my mind rarely has to tell my body to hold back to be nice to the other folks because I'm just not that fast. There are parts of me who wish I was an alpha girl who could kick ass in competition, but I am cursed by athletic deference--body, mind, and spirit. I remember the parents telling me to keep running, but I couldn't do it. I had to wait for someone to help Mike stand up, clean off his face, and encourage him to finish the race. Mike, who apparently had no issues with the nature of competition, did not hold back to be nice. He won. I've been petrified of running hurdles ever since.

Leader of the Pack

Look out, look out, look out, look out! I can't believe it myself, seeing that it wasn't too long ago that I looked for any excuse to avoid the humiliation of field day losership, but I actually won the women's division of the 8 on the 8th challenge. As I noted to race director Nancy, it figures that the only race I'll ever likely win does not have a cash prize. I'm waiting by my mailbox for the laurel wreath.

I did win a new moniker--Queen Speedy--that really only applies in this one context, but I intend to insist that all family members now call me by my royal title and bow to kiss my ring when they enter my presence. And now I shall dismount my high horse and treat myself to an extra rum and coke followed by an evening of nothingness.

The Deal With My Heel

I've been in denial about it all weekend, but since Saturday morning, my right heel has been bothering me. The pain didn't start on a run, and I ran my 8 miles without it really hurting but since Saturday afternoon, the discomfort has grown. I am scared to research it online, so I'd rather live in ignorance until the pain gets worse. My early New Year's resolution is to "heed my pain" and stop running if something creeps up, so I took this as a challenge to lay off. Given the ice falling from the sky and blanketing the streets this morning, it wasn't too hard to take a day off and do the Arc Trainer instead, which I can operate without my heels at all by "pedaling" from the balls of my feet. My intention is to bench myself from running all week by doing the Arc or maybe the dreaded pool jog so that my foot will be in good shape for Saturday's first group run. The problem is that unless I break out the crutches I have leftover from my stint at Newton-Wellesley Hospital last Patriots Day, I kind of need my heel to function, which doesn't help the situation. Argh.

You're invited to leave comments that say things like, "I've had that. It goes away in 48 hours if you eat six chocolate chip cookies each day." Or maybe, "The best way to treat heel pain is to get Indian take-out and watch Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility back to back. That, and a babysitter and a pedicure, will take care of your problem."

Got My Chi On with a Grande Non-Fat Latte with One Pump of Cinnamon

In yesterday's post, I kind of slipped in there that I ran the 8-miler in 1:03 without much comment. I don't usually post my times because I have a tendency to get hung up on it and then the fun kind of goes out of running, but when I get a PR, I am as excited as the next gal. Partially because it means that when I run faster, I'm done sooner, but I like to improve as much as anyone else. Last weekend's 8-miler on the same route was 1:06, and achieving a 1:03 meant I was doing sub 8-minute miles yesterday, which just rocked my world when I calculated it afterwards.

I am totally convinced that I knocked those three minutes off my time by really trying out chi running for the first time. It's going to take me a while to completely change my form to maintain it consistently, but implementing it as much as I could made a huge difference in my energy, my muscles' expenditure, and I guess my time, as it turned out.

The deal with chi running is that you maintain a straight column from the top of your head to your ankles, while leaning forward a la a Nordic ski jumper (but for the love of God, don't lean that far). The act of pitching your body means that gravity pulls you forward instead of your quad muscles, and your legs just follow the forward "fall" of your body by kicking your feet out the back rather than placing them in front of you. So instead of pulling your knee up with your quad, you kick your foot back so that it clears the ankle of your other leg. When you step down, you place your weight on the middle of the foot before pushing off (not landing on your heel or ball), thus relieving your calves of work. It's hard to get used to, but I swear it makes a difference in the feeling of muscle effort.

The creator of chi running, Danny Dreyer, is a hard core T'ai Chi practitioner, so he insists that the achievement of true chi running form requires Body Sensing (that one is a little tough to write with a straight face) your posture to keep it in proper form. I don't know that listening to Missy Elliot as I run is going to support my ability to Body Sense my chi, especially if I'm singing, "Gimme, gimme, gimme some of that Cinnabon."

On the other side of the road, there was an article in the NY Times last week about dissociating your mind from running to get you through when your body feels like quitting. The article cites a study of Tibetan Monks who could run 300 miles by focusing on a distant mountain and reciting mantras to remove their consciousness from their physical stress. Apparently, Paula Radcliffe (my heroine du jour) uses a similar technique of counting steps during a tough race, saying the counting focuses her mind as she steps off the miles. Chi running takes you into your body; dissociative running takes you out of it. If chi running will take me a while to master, I have to say that I am great at dissociating, though Brian will tell you that I also dissociate while he's talking to me, so it's not necessarily a good skill. I write blog posts while I'm running sometimes, or I figure out what's for dinner. The other day, I spent four miles trying to figure out what my ideal drink is at Starbucks.

The major difference between the two approaches is that chi running is designed to prevent injury, which is why I read the book in the first place, while dissociative running can actually contribute to injuries because you're finding your happy place to get through the pain. Both have their uses, but if I might return to where this run-on post started, I think the chi will show me immediate improvements in my running. And dissociation will certainly have it's place on April 21. Off to Starbucks...
and maybe Cinnabon.

16 on the 8th: A Two-Parent Relay

Team Henry is in full swing, and today Brian and I took our daily parenting relay to the streets by participating in Non-Runner Nancy's 8 on the 8th challenge. For the Hyannis marathon relay in February, I'll run the first leg before Brian hands off the child and I pass him the baton (is there any way to make sure Henry is asleep in the stroller when I finish my half?). Today, Brian went first and completed his 8 miles in an awesome 1:06. Impressive, but I kind of resent him a smidge, since I have to work hard to maintain this kind of running shape, and he just starts running again a few weeks ago after several years off and is already up to 8 miles without much trouble. That said, the fact that he would agree to do this relay with me in the first place means I should just shut my pie-hole and be grateful.

I did my 8 in 1:03, thanking the gods that it was a balmy 40 degrees after a week of face-chapping, finger-burning cold. Thanks, Nancy, for the great idea and the incentive. Just please don't propose 26 on the 26th.

8 on the 8th (hopefully not 8 degrees)

I hate being cold, and I'm usually cold for 5 months out of the year, so you can imagine how cheery I am these days. I walk around the house with a blanket around me, write love letters to the inventor of Polartec, and recently considered letting my leg hair grow out in the winter for the extra insulation. (With those three points, you can just imagine that my sexiness quotient is off the charts.) When I see women in those trim little winter coats, I wish I could be so stylish, but instead I wear a giant black parka that would be suitable in Antarctica and makes me look like the "I-can't-move-my-arms!" kid in A Christmas Story. I might not be cold, but I'm not cool, either.

I told my husband the other day that what I want most in the world is Man Circulation. How come he can walk around the house in a t-shirt when I'm wearing twelve layers? Is there a procedure that will give me Man Circulation? It's just not right. If I can't have Man Circulation, I want a thermal bra. (Size small, Brian, and any color will do.)

So today when I looked at the thermometer, I groaned to see it was in the teens. Today is a running day, and I did the treadmill yesterday, so I really felt like I needed to do the road today. I tried to will the temperature above 20, but no luck. I ran in 17 degrees. I've run in colder, but once you dip below 20, it all starts to feel the same and I start to worry about my teeth cracking from frozen saliva. I don't know if that happens outside the Arctic, but I worry about it nonetheless.

The cold is supposed to continue for a few days, so I need some extra motivation to leave the house at all, let alone for a run. The blog Notes of a Non-Runner is calling for folks to run 8 miles on December 8th, which I was planning to do anyway, so I'm happy to be part of the movement, so to speak. Then, the group runs for DFMC start the following week, when the post-run buffet will be enough to get me out there.

Nike Women's Marathon

So I'm paging through my Runner's World the other day, and I stop on a photo of a finish line with women receiving blue Tiffany boxes from men in tuxedos. And I think, "Where was I?" Turns out, the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco awards every finisher with a Tiffany necklace as a medal, and I hear from a friend who got one that they are quite lovely little silver charms. To which I say, "Call Jet Blue and get me to a trolley, I shall run that race!"

Now, I hear my husband saying, "If you want a silver-plated charm, it's a lot cheaper and easier to just buy one than to fly across the country and run a marathon for it."

To which I say, "Will it be wrapped in a Tiffany box? Will you wear a tux when you give it to me? I didn't think so."

So I've found my post-Boston marathon. October, 2008. Anne, Judith, Shelley? Who's with me?

Wednesday's Running Quote

Jogging is very beneficial. It's good for your legs and your feet. It's also very good for the ground. It makes it feel needed.

~Charles Schulz

My Title 9 Caption

To start my run, I inched my way down our icy driveway this morning, much to the amusement of the utility workers at the bottom. The run itself was fine, except for being forced into a snowy shoulder several times by passing cars, but I find it safer to run in the snow than on the potentially icy blacktop. There are times when I feel like my running is graceful, but this is never when I'm running in snow, because I'm always afraid I'll face-plant (or ass-plant) and get run over by a car (or just mocked by a driver).

It's days like this that make me really wish I could be a Title Nine Catalog Woman. You probably know what I mean if you're active and get as many catalogs as I do. I don't mean that I have aspirations to be a model or the belief that I'd qualify for the position. I just want to be the photo and have the caption describe me. I want to look joyful running in snowshoes. I want to appear at peace while in a horrifying yoga pose. I want to be a dentist whose office is decorated like a surf shop--not in real life, but in an alternate Title 9 universe where my life is a freeze-frame and I'm always tan and carefree. This is probably a sophisticated marketing technique on their part, which keeps me ordering stuff in the hopes that if I'm wearing a $130 hoodie, I might just be like the woman who is a Wilderness Education Director or the fundraiser for the local hospital, who was also first in her class at the Culinary Institute of America.

Instead, my Title Nine caption would probably be more like:

Day job: laundry, whining on her blog
Avocation: procrastination of daily training run and using Santa to get her kid to behave
Little known fact: pulls out her hair while reading
Last class: Toddler Gym
Favorite possession: the new remote start on her car

Five Inches

I usually don't mind putting in a run in the snow, even when it's falling, but today was different. The storm required two rounds of snowblowing and shoveling our bitch of a driveway because it dragged out over the whole day and we kept expecting rain, which means you need to snowblow and shovel before it turns to rain or else you're shoveling slush. The point is, I didn't run because I was tossing snow and/or minding the little duffer, who had a snow day from school. Since I did four miles yesterday, I don't feel too bad about it, but I meant to get out there today, so the change in plans was hard to accept. Especially because I felt like the quintessential New England housewife: pancakes in the morning and gingerbread in the afternoon. No running=baked goods out the wazoo (is that how you spell "wazoo?"). We'll shoot for tomorrow--no precipitation expected.

Pee, Race, Pee: The Running Mother's Triathlon

Before I had a baby I had a steel bladder. I could go 6-7 hours without peeing and never, ever got up at night to use the bathroom. I used to make fun of my husband for having to go all the time, which is probably just a "normal rate of evacuation." As a kid, I had bizarre anxiety toward public restrooms, so I just conditioned myself not to go all day at school, and as an adult, I kept up my "skill."

Then I got pregnant and lost my special superpower. Now I have to pee within 30 seconds of leaving for a run or else I'm screwed, which I learned when I ran my first race after having Henry and was loathe to use a porta-potty beforehand. I paid for that one. Luckily, it rained the entire race, because I'd have been an unsavory sight.

I had to cultivate a decent amount of bladder control simply by running regularly, such that now I lose my "restraint" if I take a week off from running for whatever reason. Still, I'll never get back my steel bladder. [Is anyone that interested in reading about my bladder control? Probably not, but here it is.]

We got this treadmill last year that has a "reflex deck," meaning that it absorbs a lot of your weight to ease the impact on your knees. It's great, but it's like running on a trampoline, compared to roads, and today I did my pre-run pee, went down to use the treadmill, and came back up two minutes later to pee again. Good on the knees, bad on the bladder.

I actually heard a woman call into an NPR show last year, saying she'd scheduled a C-section precisely because she was a runner and didn't want to lose her bladder control after a vaginal birth. Seems a bit extreme to me, but I get her desire for the equipment to stay in good working order.

So kids clearly rob one of all sense of control--over life and all its dirty business. I should have had less frustration with my son when we were potty training, given that I had to go through my own retraining after he entered my life. Even now when he tells me he was too busy playing to use the bathroom, hence the wet unders, I should pause before expressing disappointment. It really is an interference.

And that's enough on that topic for a lifetime.