At the End of This Post is Communist Wine

Posted on February 4, 2012 by KO

Things haven’t been very eventful around these parts lately, as you might have guessed due to the quiet here on the blog. Life has been trucking along pretty smoothly: I’m getting right into the thick of things with spring semester and already starting to plan for summer teaching. The dogs are being adorable as usual, in spite of my attempts to kill two of the three of them today.

The morning started off with me ham-handedly dropping two ibuprofen gel caps on the floor, thinking I’d only dropped one and quickly snatching it up, but not being able to stop Egon before he ate the second, unnoticed capsule. Twelve hours later and he seems fine, so I’m not worried. Then, on the way home from the grocery store just an hour ago, I accidentally stepped on (or almost stepped on?) Oliver, who then hit his head on the botom of the heavy bag of food (wine bottles! Pints of ice cream!) while trying to get away from my big, clumsy feet. Sorry, dogs!

They seem generally unfazed, however, and have forgiven and forgotten. As dogs do. Which is why we love them.

In other news, I have been on total rest this week, trying to let my strained/inflamed hip flexors heal so I can get back to working out. I’ve had problems with this injury off and on for quite a while now, so I’m also thinking about seeing a physical therapist, but for now I just need it to heal. I severely cut back on running throughout January (fifteen miles total the entire month!), trying to stick to things I thought would be easier on the hip. One RPM/spinning class and one circuit class (surprise, lots of kickboxing intervals!) were attempted, and each one left my hip also feeling worse for the wear. By the end of the month, even yoga and weight lifting were both too taxing on the hip, so I put myself on the DL for seven days.

It has not been fun. For one reason, I put on a few holiday pounds and am feeling a bit tubby. I am, objectively speaking, not tubby. Even at my current weight I am still at a BMI of about 21.x, for whatever that’s worth, but I was also already 5 lbs up from my normal weight before the holidays, so there’s that, too. So being without recourse to exercise is unpleasant and frustrating right now.

For another reason, it has also been my Special Ladies Time for Ladies this week, which makes everything that is already hard even harder, and everyone who is already feeling tubby feel even tubbier. These “emotions” you normal people experience on a regular basis? They are difficult. For reference, imagine me sobbing at a Budweiser commercial about hockey. BUDWEISER. HOCKEY. TEARS. Sweet Christ on a cracker. (Go watch that ad, though. Seriously.)

Most of all, though, exercise — significant exercise — is my best mental health regimen. It helps me fight off anxiety and depression and makes me feel positive and confident like few other things can. To be without access to that, well. I have been a treat this week, let me tell you.

Anyway, things are not all bad! I plan to return to the gym next week for some light workouts (yoga, weights, swimming with a pull buoy) and see how it goes. Mid month I plan to get fitted for new running shoes. It’s that time anyway, and it couldn’t really hurt anything (one hopes). Maybe I can try a few miles then and hopefully make a careful return to the roads.

Currently I am sitting on the couch with a glass of communist wine, three snuggly dogs, and my laptop. Beside me, my gentleman friend is playing Fallout: New Vegas. I have no interest in video games, but this one has a charming soundtrack and fun, creepy creatures and settings, making it almost entertaining to have on in the background. The rain is pouring right now just outside the open patio door and things are generally cozy.

I hope you are all having a pleasant weekend of it!

“Obviously, you’re not a golfer.” (aka Adventures in Bowling)

Posted on January 22, 2012 by KO

Yesterday I went bowling for the first time in about twenty years. The last time I bowled was in middle school gym class — we had an option where, if you signed up for bowling, you got to walk to the bowling alley every day for gym, bowl one game, and then return to school. One of the big draws, of course, was that you could also buy candy at the concession stand while there. Blow Pops, in particular. Bowling and a lollipop with gum in the center? We were living large, let me tell you.

I was never any good at bowling, though: I never came close to breaking 100 points and once I even had an all-time low score of 19. I tried, but I just never quite got it. Since then, I have just never gone, even despite renewed the allure The Big Lebowski had given to the sport since the late 1990s. Bowling became one of those things that I just don’t do, like downhill skiing, eating popcorn, wearing pleated pants, or voting Republican.

After my twenty-year hiatus, I was a little nervous yesterday, wondering if I would even be able to get the ball going in the right direction. Things didn’t get off to a great start when I rolled two gutterballs in the first frame. Yup, I’m no good at bowling.

We had a group of eight people, so we were using two lanes, one of which was set up with bumpers — you know, the little rails they put up in the gutters for when little kids are bowling, so they never get a gutterball and can actually knock some pins down? Yeah. I was thinking I probably needed to be in the bumper lane, but of course I wound up in the “real” lane. So not fair! I mean, this is not ‘Nam; this is bowling. There are rules. I was grousing and grumbling about the injustice of it all when I went up to roll for my second frame and, lo and behold, I rolled a strike. Say what now?!

It was kind of like that all night: ups and downs, strikes and guuters. Just like The Dude says. I finished the first game in last place in our lane (and only beat one person playing in the bumper lane). The next game I came in third in our lane, and in the third game we swapped lanes so our group of four had bumpers and the others didn’t, and I still came in third. You know what, though? It was really, really fun. I managed to roll a few strikes throughout the night, actually, and until I started to get tired I was improving bit by bit.

I think the pitchers of beer certainly helped matters, as did being there with a big group of friends who were cheering each other on and generally keeping spirits high. I surprised myself by enjoying it as much as I did — I’m even thinking I would like to go back every now and then so I can get better at it. I’d like to win a game once! Maybe some day.

I think when I was younger I used to get hung up on competition and the (percieved) need to excel at things. If I wasn’t good at something with minimal effort, why do it? Why bear the indignity of medicority? I’d like to think I am getting over that limiting way of thinking as I get older — after all, I am not especially “good at” running or triathlon except insofar as I enjoy those sports and love to participate in them. I don’t have to be winning my age group to make a race fun (though I’d like to, one day), and I don’t even have to be racing to make a run, ride, or swim worth my while. The experience of the moment is fulfilling in itself, as is the sense of accomplishment gained from simply trying to learn new things.

As life goes on, I’ve realized that what I had always thought of a fixed aversions or dislikes (Brussels sprouts, games, bowling) may not be so fixed after all. I love me some roasted Brussels sprouts these days, for example. Perhaps there will be a time in the future when I will give downhill skiing another try, or discover a love of popcorn. I’m sure pleated pants will come back in style some day soon, if they haven’t already. As for voting Republican, though? Well, probably not.

Toys for Tots 10K Race Report

Posted on December 9, 2011 by KO

Last weekend I ran another local race with two of my running buddies, Brunbec and Jenniac (whom you might remember from such races as the Skirt Chaser 5K back in October). Here’s an old photo of us from that race:

This event was a rather hilly 10K race at 8:00 on a Saturday morning (a much better time for me to be running than a 5:00pm race like the last one was). In spite of the better timing, my stomach was still feeling a little iffy. It was probably an unfortunate combination of 2-3 glasses of wine the night before and general nerves. I didn’t feel like I could really race for a new PR this time, so I declared I would just see how I felt when I started running and take it easy if my stomach ordered me to.

It was a Toys for Tots race, meaning we all had to contribute a toy to give to a child at Christmas — I like racing for a good cause. After we handed in our toys and picked up our race bibs, we loitered around in the cold for a while waiting for the race to start.

(All photos are from the local running club’s Facebook group, since none of us took pictures and there were no official race photos taken — Thanks AORTA for sharing your photos online! I hope it’s okay that I’m using a few here!)

Aubie (our school mascot, for those of you not in the know) got the race started with a big “War Eagle” and we were off. As soon as I started moving, I started to feel so much better. I don’t know what it was, but all my stomach discomfort seemed to vanish. Thank goodness! The first mile of the race was entirely downhill (meaning the last mile would be entirely uphill), and I got it done in a blazing time of 8:32. Yeah, that’s not normal for me :)

I slowed down a bit as the rolling hills part of the course crept up on me, and even had to stop to tie my shoe sometime in mile two. The next two miles clocked in at 8:59 and 9:08. With each mile getting slower, I was not exactly negative splitting this race, but I almost believe that would have been impossible, given the downhill start and uphill finish.

As we were getting through the third mile I was running right next to a little girl who couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old — she was teeny-tiny, and her little blonde ponytail bobbed up and down as she, very seriously, kept up her 9:00/mile pace toward the finish of her 5K (it was a combined 5K/10K race). She was all decked out in a tech shirt, track shorts, and Adidas trainers, and had her dad riding beside her on a bike. She must have finished her 5K in around 27:xx. Insane, and adorable.

Miles four and five kind of ran together for me — by this point, my iPod Shuffle had died (forgot to charge it), so I was running without music and just trying to say hello to all the runners I met along the way. The course doubled back on itself, so there were plenty of people to see. The positive energy must have buoyed me a bit, because despite the hills, these miles went by in 8:53 and 8:51.

Mile six took us back up the long hill that had flown by so fast in mile one. I was tired and ready to be done, and my stomach was bothering me a bit again, for the first time since we’d started running. I took my mind off it by chatting with a little boy I passed (smoking his 10K; couldn’t have been older than ten or eleven and easily running a 9:30-ish pace) and a woman about my own age who confessed to me that she’d gone out the night before and was not really loving the uphill finish. I could identify, and was by this point cursing the last night’s pinot grigio!

I could see the finish line coming up faster than expected — as my watch neared 6.0 miles, we made the turn back into the parking lot and crossed the line, finishing mile six in 9:11. The course turned out to be a bit short, so I wondered briefly if my finish time of 53:34 counted as a new PR or not (my old time was 55:47). I decided I didn’t really care and just celebrated a good race and a strong finish. And not puking.

After all three of us were done (Brunbec hit a new PR and Jenniac met her time goal, too!), we went out for pancakes and celebrated our stellar athleticism with overly indulgent breakfast food. Of course.

I later compared the average pace from this race (8:55) with my old 10K (9:00) and determined that I will count this as a pace PR at least, even though the course was short. So…yay! Another fun and successful race in the books!

Time: 53:34
Overall Place: 65/150
Gender Place: 16/72 (approx)

ProcrastiNation

Posted on November 11, 2011 by KO

Grrrrrreetings! It’s a beautiful fall day here in Alabama.

When I woke up this morning it was actually freezing outside — yes, 32 chilly degrees. Exciting. This means winter really is approaching (I love fall and winter both, and look forward to them each and every year), and it also meant Egon got to try out his new fleece jacket on his brief walk this morning. Check it out:

Yes, that’s a miniature dachshund in a red jacket. I submit to you that this is a remarkably cute phenomenon. Please enjoy it. Egon, as some of you know, has alopecia (also sometimes called “dachshund pattern baldness”) which makes him lose his hair on the backs of his ears, his throat, chest, and undercarriage. All that, combined with his back being shaved from surgery, means the little guy most definitely needs a jacket on mornings like this. See? I AM BEING PRACTICAL. I’m not just some girl who likes to dress her dog up in clothes.

(Not just, anyway.)

So the little guy is doing much better. His walk is improving. He is generally much calmer in his crate, and is letting me get some sleep at night. The current situation is that his crate stays in the living/dining/kitchen area all day so he can be in the middle of things, and then I bring it into the bedroom at night. I’ve also got W. and his two dogs in there, and although our night-time pack usually involves all five of us piled up in the double bed (I… I know), we can at least achieve 80% dogpile completion, with the other 20% on the floor in his crate. This seems to be working for now, and (despite the crowding) the extra warmth is definitely appreciated now that we are waking up to frosty mornings like today.

In spite of my love for cold weather and my general fearlessness when it comes to running in the cold, I was not feeling up to a run right away when I woke up at 7:00 this morning, so I waited until the afternoon to go out. It was sunny and a bit warmer (capri tights and short-sleeves style temperatures) and it was just plain beautiful outside.

We are rocking that stage of fall where there are pleasantly crunchy leaves on the ground and still some rich color in the trees. I had a lovely five-mile loop around town and then tacked on an extra mile in my neighborhood at the end, just because it was so beautiful out and I am young and alive. Pretty nice day I’ve got going so far.

I’ll be honest, I am supposed to be grading essays today, but I just don’t feel like it. There’s always tomorrow right? It’s that time in the semester where procrastination seems, despite all logical evidence to the contrary, to be the right thing to do. I am just going to roll with it for the moment. In a little while I’m off for an early dinner of pizza and beer and then seeing my friend PSP perform in the community production of Hairspray.

So tell me: do you ever just take the day off and enjoy it for your own purposes? I know I’m not the only procrastinator ’round these parts. ‘Fess up.

Rock ‘n’ Roll Savannah Half Marathon Race Report (aka Why I’ll Never Run a Rock ‘n’ Roll Event Again)

Posted on November 7, 2011 by KO

Seriously, y’all, I had heard that these huge events, in particular the Rock ‘n’ Roll branded ones, were kind of awful, but you never really know until you live it. As much as I love the city of Savannah, I don’t think they were ready for what to expect by bringing in some 23,000 runners (plus about double that number of spectators/family/friends) into their city for the weekend. The race was one big traffic jam after another, from getting to the expo to getting to the start line to running the course to getting back to the hotel. Incredible, incredible nonsense.

But let’s back up. B and I were trained and ready to go. There was only one thing left to do: get to the race. We left town on Friday morning, driving through the pretty country roads of rural Georgia, and made it to Savannah by about 4:00 PM Eastern time, in plenty of time, we thought, to get into the expo, check in and pick up our race bibs and timing chips, mill about and shop, and then go to dinner. We did not make it to our hotel until after 9:00, thanks to being stuck for about an hour on the Talmadge bridge, the only way to the little island where the expo was being held.

We were so frustrated with the traffic that we eventually decided to take turns going in — she drove in the traffic jam while I got out and walked in to the expo, then we’d switch (luckily we were able to meet up in there because she finally got parking). Needless to day, we did not have the time or energy or desire to spend a single dime inside the race expo.

Afterward, we faced more traffic jams around the hotel/mall part of town where we were staying, and were quoted an hour and fifteen minute wait at the restaurant. We ate at the bar instead of waiting for a proper table; we were so exhausted by this point.

The next morning, we headed to the mall parking lot at 6:00 AM to catch a shuttle to the start. Everyone whose hotel didn’t have its own race shuttle was there, too — thousands and thousands of runners in disorganized “lines” trying to catch a shuttle. It was 45 degrees, still dark, and eventually anarchy erupted as people began forming new lines to catch the busses as they pulled into the lots, diverting the busses before they could get to those of us waiting in the pre-existing “official” lines. We finally got on a shuttle at about 7:15 AM, just fifteen minutes before the race was set to begin.

By the time our bus got into town, the race had already begun, which meant most downtown roads were closed. Most bus drivers, brought in for the event from Florida, didn’t know their way around the city, and we could hear dispatch on the radio talking to one frantic driver, who said “I’ve got five busses following behind me and there are dozens more picking up runners at the mall. I don’t care if the roads are blocked, we have to get these runners to the start!” Apparently, busses taking in runners from Tybee island got lost along the way, too. It was chaos.

We got to the start after 8:00 AM, and were able to high-tail it over there in time to start with corral 25. We were supposed to be in corral 5. There would be no running with the 2:00 pace team, as they were long gone by now. We had completely missed all the runners who would be going at our predicted pace; instead we were with the walkers (and the other late arrivals from the mall shuttle busses).

The entire race was one big traffic jam. I never was able to run at my desired pace, instead having to weave my way through and around groups of people. The road was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, and there were countless groups of walkers and run/walkers going four or five abreast across the road, often slowing to a walk with no advance warning and completely oblivious to anyone trying to pass by them. I spent a lot of time running in the grass and on the sidewalk in my efforts to squeak by. I was miserable.

The first six miles took us through some ugly, industrial part of town that smelled like rancid fish (my description) or a bad perm (B’s description). It was inescapable. There were no spectators here, just the wall of flesh and smell.

At some point around the 10K mark, I managed to free myself of the concern for pace and time, and I just told myself I would run as well as I was able and just finish the damned race. I was envisioning a finish time around 2:20 at this point, far from my goal of somewhere between 2:00-2:07. I wasn’t in control of my pace, so why worry about it?

Around mile 7 or so we cut back into the historic district — the pretty part of Savannah with old lovely houses and live oaks and Spanish moss. The only part I really know. Here there were TONS of great spectators. I collected more than my fair share of high-fives from the folks on the left side of the road, enjoyed the signs, and appreciated the surroundings. My mood really lightened up here and it was a relief.

After this I just kept trucking on ahead, thinking that at least if I was running at my normal slow-run training pace (9:30-9:45) instead of my goal race pace (9:09), maybe I wouldn’t be sore the next day. Silver lining, maybe. Around mile 10 my hip flexors and IT bands were getting a bit tight and sore — normally I’d take a stretch break on a training run if I felt tight like this, but that day I just wanted to be done.

At mile 11 I finally braved looking at my watch again, did some quick math, and figured out I could come close to my PR of 2:07:07, possibly beating it, if I kicked it into gear for the last two miles, which is what I tried to do. It was still really tough to make my way through the crowd. The half marathoners were kept to the right lane at this point, leaving the left lane for full marathoners whose mile 25-26 overlapped with our mile 12-13 of the course (the 2:45-3:00 marathon finishers, who started at 7:30 in the first corrals, would be coming up at this point, and fast as hell). I occasionally snuck just to the left of the cones to try to pass people, but I stayed out of the way of the speedy full marathoners and their bike escorts.

At one point, two women running in front of me came to a walk, and one threw out her arm to look at her watch, her elbow right in my face. As I nearly crashed right through them, I was so aggravated I literally made a loud, high-pitched “beep beep” sound, which I hope startled the shit out of Elbow Lady. Race etiquette was just not to be seen out there on Saturday.

At any rate, I managed to find my way through the crowd in the last few miles and I saw as I approached the finish line that I could eke out a PR of at least a few seconds. I tried to compose my face for a pleasant finish line photo, and then this happened:

Oh no she didn’t? OH YES SHE DID. This zebra/pink-mowhawk hat lady just busted right in between me and grey-shirt mom on my right there and practically pushed us down for her moment of finish line glory. Can you tell how effing appalled I was by my expression in the second photo? I hope you can.

My overall impression of the race was one of overcrowding and mishandling. This was the Savannah race’s inaugural year, and I know the city to be a lovely place. I know from what I read in their news coverage that they were really excited about the race and about bringing people into the city. The problem was that it was impossible to enjoy the city the night before (due to overcrowding, traffic, and just sheer frustration and exhaustion), and I don’t think a lot of people stuck around to see Savannah after the race, judging by how empty the historic district was that night. The race didn’t even really showcase the best parts of the city, going mostly through ugly industrial areas and random neighborhoods. The “pretty” part of town was only on display for a mile or two of the half marathon route, which surprised me.

At any rate, I met up with B at the finish line, we both celebrated our new PRs (even though we both missed our more ambitous targets, we still both improved, which is what counts), and got in the miles-long line for shuttles back to the mall.

Oh right. Yes, more waiting, more traffic. At least we got to wait in front of the famous Forsyth Park fountain, and then we caught a Savannah city trolley, driven by a local tour guide, instead of a school bus.

And really, all’s well that ends well. We celebrated with champagne and candy and then got dressed for a fun night. The historic district was quiet when we went out, we had no trouble getting seated at the restaurant of our choice, and then treated ourselves to fun cocktails and frozen yogurt afterward.

I may not have reached my more ambitious time goals, even though I think I’d have had a chance to if I’d started in the proper corral and/or found the 2:00 pace group. I DID, nonetheless, meet my non-time based goals: no injury, a wacky pedicure, champagne, a fun night on the town, and some quality time with my friend.

Final time: 2:06:30 – a whopping 37-second personal record.

As for what’s next? We are picking our next half marathon race, and this one’s gonna be small.