Training day: Long run no. 4

Not being able to resist the lure of the burbs, we stuck around Orange for the week so I had one more long run down the town's winding streets.

Long run no. 4 was a bit (teeny tiny) of a break: 8 miles. I knew where seven miles was so I guessed at the last mile or so and may have run closer to nine - sometimes you can really get yourself lost.

I was up nice and early again since we had to head into the city for a wedding. The weather was a slightly chilled 75 by 7:30 but the humidity made it down right nasty.

I had a shiny new This American Life cued up in my ipod (episode: #411) and 15 minutes into it I found myself laughing out loud while running on a public street. I could not resist. The show featured Mike Birbiglia, a self deprecating comedian who concentrates on embarrassing stories. Yes and yes. There's a bit about the amusement park ride the Scrambler and, for any of you Burbians out there who may have frequented your local summer fair, this story will just kills.

The run was a repeat so it was a bit on the boring side and the heat made my legs feel like exercising in wet denim but it was fine all in all.

What I like most about running in the burbs is the kindness of strangers. Every fitness folk I passed waved or said "Hi" "Howzit goin" and even "Have a good one." I'm not one to make a bestie while I'm sweating gallons in decades-old t-shirts, but I got into it a little. I gave a "morning" to a fellow jogger only to see her again two miles later (awkward). I threw a nod to a sprinting teen and a half-wave to a biker.

Toward the end I passed a young guy out for a casual walk in sweltering heat. The pass requires no greeting since a turn-around-hello would be ranked among the desperate. But ours was a destined salutation since my finish line was only a couple hundred yards up the road. As a turned around for my cool down walk back to the house I could see the kid rising in the distance like a villain in an old western.

The from-afar wave has to to be the most awkward of the suburban morning greetings. From what distance do you begin the wave? Do you wave a long way off and then say hello up close? Or do you choose the ignore-until-the-last-moment-and-then-casually-acknowledge-their-presence route? As I mulled over my options the great distance that stretched over the straight, flat portion of my road shortened slowly. I made the mistake of going for an early wave to find that new friend chose the ignore option so that I was waving weirdly to the air in front of me. Rejected, I fought back with an ignore/finding-something-terribly-interesting-on-my-palm-option until we were close enough to ask one another to take this dance at which point I gave a "hey" and he nodded.

Pleasantries are exhausting.

I look forward to returning to the full-on-ignore of my urban pedestrian life.

Thus,
Distance: 8.5-9 miles
Time: 1:21
Overall rating: 7 (Pros: This American Life, pomegranate sports drink, neighborly support. Cons: repeat route, sticky early morning heat, neighborly chastise)

xoL

Training day: Long run no. 3 (the Burb Edition)

It turns out I was off, like way off. Perhaps you might recall those first two 8.5 milers done over the past two weeks? Try 10.5. Yup. I was way off. Probably.

I'm in CT this weekend (Lola needed me, obviously) and, not knowing a 10 mile route off hand, I had to clock it with the car the night before. I drove the car down and around between my town and the next until I created a giant bow of a course with my parent's house at its center - dangerous considering at mile 7 I had to run past that sanctuary of rest. By the end of the drive, I had an eleven mile run to conquer.

And conquer I did at about the exact same time it took me to run my previous 8.5. WEIRD. I came to a sweaty screeching halt in front of my parent's house, turned off the ipod, paused the stopwatch to find that my would be two hour jog took 1:41, just four minutes more than my previous long runs.

It's funny how you can psyche yourself out of it, though. Like when I hit about mile eight and I was pretty convinced that I'd never make it because that extra couple of miles seemed an inhuman feat of strength. FOOL. If only I could trick myself into thinking this was all very easy.

The mileage mix up was a nice surprise. Though I don't really believe it - how could I have been two miles off?! This is what happens when you try to read a hand-drawn map.

Anyhoo, my suburban job was pleasant enough. I had to run the long run on Friday instead of Saturday so my legs felt more like lead instead of feather light flights of fancy (not that I can recall that ever happening). I had ice cold water, ice cold endurance drinks (pomegranate - yum) and an ever delightful This American Life episode (#203: Recordings for Someone). The weather was actually perfect (hard to imagine), not yet this thick pea soup humidity and a cool summer 70. Man, I wonder what that was like.

Since this epic jog I have been running smaller routes around the neighborhood that in this 90-degrees-by-seven weather is verging on torture. And if this weather continues for my next long run I cannot be responsible for the pools I will jump in and the few sprinklers whose spits of cold water I will lap up like a puppy.

Long run #3:
Mileage: about 10.5
Time: 1.41
Overall: 8 (pros: weather, cold beverages, ample amount of shade, route, surprising time / cons: Repeat TAL episode, weather, scenery).

xoL

Inspired to freeze until I went inside

Perhaps you've seen this article that ran in Thursday's New York Times House & Garden section - Chilled by Choice? Well it caught my eye, mainly because of the awesome large photo on the top of the piece.



Basically it's about people living in very cold climates (at least for part of the year) who CHOOSE to go without heat. Some people just keep the heat at a balmy 55 but the rest who were interviewed just do it - like live in a place that is probably colder inside that the air than is outside for at least four months out of the year. Eek.

And yet, they make it look good. In fact from the 71 degree kitchen in my parents comfy home I had a revelation - I can do this! Yes! I can turn off the heat during the winter months. I can at least give it a try.

I saw some advantages:
1) saving some cash. Being utterly broke I think we can all see the benefit in pocketing that $20/month bruise.
2)saving energy => saving the planet (all from my couch)
3) clarity of mind, which means a bevvy of new writing and creating ideas. Obviously I will be award winning writer/videographer/blogger/audiophile within months of going archtic.

But then I left the comforts of my parents house, drove the 2+ hours back to R's place in Cambridge, pushed open that drafty door of a one-bedroom that hadn't been heated for two days and gasped. No, I beelined it to the heater, the gauge hovering just above 55 degrees, and cranked that puppy back up to 70.

OK so freezing myself for inspiration and moral uplift is out...at least just for now, until it gets a little warmer outside.

xoxoL

A walk in the woods with Lola

I had a day with Lola. So we took a stroll.

Hangin' tough in Orange

Perhaps, like me, you find yourself back at home in a small town in southern Connecticut. You've just spent 12 very quick months in the windy city and now, just as suddenly, you are sleeping in your pink-flower-decorated childhood room (albeit with a bed upgrade). So you're 29 years old. So the new dog has usurped your position as beloved female child.

What to do, what to do.

Since I'm experienced in this realm, I'll pass on a few good-times-a-comin' suggestions to help you pass the time.

Earn your keep. Let's be honest. Times are tough. You can't just be hanging on that comfy couch in the basement with all that glorious cable and not expect to give a little. Am I right? Besides, I dunno about you but, my Dad is one day away from selling me off to our neighbors for some good ol' fashioned yard work. Anyhoo. Get in there. I'm not saying you need to paint the house or grout the bathroom. Maybe bike down to your grocery story and pick up a little somethin' somethin'. Or empty the dishwasher or cook some dinner and then make sure to brag about it for most the night.

let yourself go. Why not? What are you doing with yourself anyway? Tap into that teen angst with a jammies outfit that lasts all day. Develop a little adult-on-set acne. Sure, keep things spicy.

When all else fails....hit up a puppy glamor shoot

Lola the sea-dog-wonder


Pensive Lola


Lola and toys


Lola from afar


Lola and friend


Lola and the vest of humiliation


Lola sunbathing

Giving and taking away

It's been Thanksgiving chaos!

In an effort to stretch our bellies for the big feast, new Chicago friends and I cooked ourselves one helluva deliciously starchy meal.

I contributed macaroni & cheese. Cooking for eight proved to be a slight macaroni disaster considering my for-one equipped kitchen and my poor math skills. I took a delightful recipe built for two and expanded it for our party.

Carry the one

And two pounds of pasta later, I'm mixing all the necessary parts in a cleaning bucket.


But the feast was a success!.


My stomach was stretched and, with in a warm and happy Chicago apartment, the holiday season official kicked off.

I flew home for turkey, family and, most importantly, a Lola muffin.

It's hard to pick just one out of the hundreds of glamor shots I took of the peanut, but here are a few favorites.



R got to play too!


With the food and Lola fest under my belt and a quick visit with R, it seemed I would be mentally prepped for the last two weeks of the semester.

Except that I had to fly home. And it was snowing. And O'Hare sucks.

With a delayed flight I had three hours to kill in Bradley International airport to do...absolutely nothing. Bradley is actually made only of Styrofoam, plastic and polyester. It is SERiously lacking in activities, food or even pretty get-away pictures to look at. I gazed at my own reflection eating a McDonald's salad for two hours until the sweet sweet sound of my flight being called woke me out of that nightmare.

Had there not been a devil baby with a fire alarm-pitched scream on board I might have had to dwell on the turbulence that bopped the plane around the cloudy skies like a ping-pong ball. Lucky for all involved, devil baby kept us right distracted for the duration of the two hour flight and hour-long taxi.

After memorizing the contents of the Sky Mall catalog (p. 104: Slanket - hint hint, Santa) and the balding pattern on the back of the gentleman's head in front of me, it became clear that I have lost my travel patients. Yet, there is nothing you can do. you scan the airplane/airport/baggage claim/taxi line and you just see thousands of blank faces that have been able to swallow the red hot anger caused by a simple weekend of travel.

I'm sure Sky Mall is already on the case. Looking into the weirdo inventive abyss to find the next neck pillow-foot massage-stress ball-popcorn machine that will fold into a tiny carry-on meeting all FAA standards.

Did I mention I have two weeks left? Yup. Two big fat and full weeks until my first quarter is over. Craziness.