problem SOLVED

"No lines, no lanes. No walls, no mercy. The newest sport at the Olympics."

        -Steven Munatones

Historically, I was never much of a dater. I have friends who are serial daters (strangely a few girls but mostly guys ... which is interesting, I never thought of this particular phenomena as a guy thing, but I bet it is, which makes sense on SO MANY LEVELS). One relationship ends and they're on the prowl for the next one. It makes sense - its hard to go from being with someone all the time to not being with someone all the time. I think this was particularly pronounced in college when you could spend close to every waking minute together (and I bet some of you floozies that went to colleges that were pits of moral depravity could spend every non-waking minute together too*) and then broke up and found yourself unsure of who to sit with in the dining hall - so you had a few or 10 beers and found a new person to be your person ...

Seems like a vicious cycle to me. Which is why I pretty much avoided it at all costs. Leading my college friends to declare that I'd meet and marry my future husband all within the same year. I claimed to need 18 months, but otherwise agreed with their assessment - I was going to avoid the heart wrenching cycle and just make one good choice.

Well, we know what they say about the best laid plans (actually, I have no idea how that phrase ends ...). My Master Plan was to be single basically until I was engaged and the plan worked right up until it failed miserably. And while the contrast between not single and single wasn't as stark as it could have been or would have been in college there was a noticeable void. So I started running and within 18 months, finished a marathon. I reverted back to being a firm believer in the Master Plan, a Born Again Master Planner perhaps since there was the one indiscretion, but a believer nonetheless and vowed off men entirely because while I believed in the Master Plan, it was apparently hard to execute and until the execution could be perfected it seemed safer to just keep running.

Apparently time and a marathon will heal all wounds because I found myself not single and then single again and this time the contrast was about as stark as it could have been (well, except for the little but persistently right voice in the back of my mind that was sighing in relief and thinking THANK GOD).  To fill this void I did my first triathlon and have reaffirmed my belief in the Master Plan complete with promises to not even get out there until there was a way to know if the one was THE ONE before feelings could be crushed.

But now, I'm starting to waiver.  Maybe, maybe after the Big Race when I have more time I'll at least consider if there is a way to execute the Master Plan with a tolerable amount of risk.  Maybe.  But I need a back up plan in case the Master Plan fails.  Again.

For awhile I was at a loss.  Running and triathlon would be old hat at that point but, given my extreme lack of eye-hand coordination anything involving a ball is out.  And then I read the article in the WSJ about open water swimming (a 10K of open water swimming) being an olympic event ... and I thought, there's my answer.  If the Master Plan fails again, I'll become an open water swimmer because if a participant in the sport describes it as having "no mercy" you'd have to think I'd be good at it.  Ha!  Can you imagine?

If I do decide to pursue a career as an open water swimmer, I can practice every other weekend this summer ... I've enlisted in a shared beach house which is maybe something that I should have done 6 years ago and not now, but whatever, my house mates are all roughly my age, so its fine.  I'm just excited to be spend my weekends laying on the beach, listening to the waves (even if they are Jersey waves and not those of my favorite vacation destination, waves are waves at some point) and I'm thinking of getting this chair. But, given my lack of coordination and heightened startle reflex I feel like I might get stuck IN the chair.  Which I'm sure would do wonders for the Master Plan!

*At my college, in an effort to preserve our morality, there were visiting hours, because we all know that people only do It between midnight and 10 am Sunday - Thursday and 2 am and 10 am on Friday and Saturday, so the rules make perfect sense, right?

You say Triathlon, I say Pentathlon

Huh?

Today I did a race.  My first (outdoor) multisport race of the season.  Done on a bit of a whim.

During the day there were lows:

• when the alarm went off at 4 am
• when i got picked up at 4:45
• when the one dude we were driving was an annoying back seat driver
• when we got out of the car at the race site and realized that the "real feel" was 47 degrees
• when we realized transition was on the beach, which, um was SAND
• when 1/4 of the way through the swim the water was so shallow you had to stand up and run (NOTE: this is the 4th event of the pentathlon)
• when you had to run 100 yards with your bike through the sand to get in or out of transition (NOTE: this is the 5th event of the pentathlon)
• when it was so freaking cold on the bike that my legs just didn't want to work

And there were highs:

• when I got PICKED up at 4:45 (no driving ... woohoo)
• when the directions actually got us to the race site
• when I got in a groove after my mid-swim walking break and cruised back to shore
• when, after an atrocious bike ride, the run was fine, fun and WARM
• when I ran with socks on sandy feet and didn't get a blister
• when I was finally home, showered, fed and on the couch and realized I had done more in one day (a pentathlon. in the COLD.) than most people do in a week
• when I fell asleep with the window cracked open and a blanket on me looking at the NYC skyline 

So yeah, it was fun.  I'm worried about the bike, but I think the cold factored in (or at least thats what I'm telling myself) and it was fun to hang out with the tri-club kids!

Is it cold out?

Because hell has frozen over.  

I swam before work yesterday.

Seriously.

The new pool that I'm hoping to not be allergic to, has better hours for pre-work swimming.  Sadly its only 20 yards long.

I've got a surprise little activity on tap for tomorrow which I'm sure will make for a good post (or two).  And good luck to my good friend Dave who is running a half-marathon in the middle of no where, um, I mean Iowa.  I don't know why I said that?  Anyway, good luck dude, I'm sure you'll finish in 7 minutes or so (:30 second miles? no problemo! es bueno.).

Ha, I'm off for a long day of grandma visiting so I've got to amuse myself while I can.

Later.

Maybe I should have said yes.

I left work at 5:45 today.  Whenever this happens I wonder what people who regularly leave work at this hour do.  Especially if they don't work out compulsively.  Signs point to me never really knowing the answer to this first hand ...

Anyway, when I get out of work at 5:45 I walk home form the train, go for a run and then head to Trader Joe's where I fill one more bag than I can really carry.  Leaving me with a dilemma.  I could park the car in my building's driveway, get a cart to bring the stuff up in the elevator, unload the bags in my apartment, go back down the elevator to the car, drive the car half a block to the garage, park and back track to the building.  Or I could carry the stuff from the garage to my building.

Yeah, this is boring so far.  But stick with me.

It was past nine and I was hungry, so I went the fast route and parked the car in the garage.  As I was unloading the bags I realized that getting them to my apartment was going to be rough and I sort of hoped that someone would offer to help.  I got into the garage elevator and was consolidating from five bags to four when someone (ahem, a guy) got in and, in an answer to my prayers, offered to help.

And I said "No, I got it.  Just have to get organized."  

Why?

Because I am a stubborn brat and don't like to accept help from strangers.  And if I were to justify, I'll point out that this garage serves at least 3 buildings ... what if he didn't live in mine?  I wasn't going to ask him to go out of his way.

As we walked toward the buildings (me struggling with my 800 lbs of groceries and wondering if his offer to help still stood) we discussed the perennial park in the driveway and get a cart v. save time by carrying stuff form the garage dilemma and I noted that he wasn't ugly.  It had gotten a bit chilly and the random guy was walking fast and I was struggling to keep up and not stop to readjust the bags.  Turns out he does live in my building and ... on my floor.  In fact, he lives on one side of the elevators.  The other side of the elevators is the trash room.  And I live across from the trash room (its not bad, i swear, occasionally loud when people dumb their glass recyclables in the bin, but not smelly, for real).  So we're very, very close neighbors.

And as we were realizing that we lived on the same floor and discussing whether it was better to live next to the elevator or across from the trash room and commenting on how I should have accepted his help in the first place I was wondering if I should have said yes.  And I was wondering if we should exchange names in addition to apartment numbers (he's 12X, I'm 12I ... its sweet) and how I've lived here for 10 months and only in the last month have I (sort of) introduced myself to any neighbors (12X and the lady who has 12H as a pied a tier).  Of course even if I had let him help me with the groceries or we had exchanged names, anything more than random building friends with violate a Cardinal Rule of Dating (keep it out of the building).  But still ... should I have said yes?

In other news, it took some pita chips, cheese enchiladas from Trader Joe's and some fresh Mango ... but I'm finally full.  Finally.

New Question

I kind of get why the second day is the sorest, but why is the second day also the hungriest?

I worked out for 6+ hours this past weekend and today I'm thinking about eating the paper on my desk. So far I've had oatmeal, yogurt with fruit and granola, chicken and pasta with broccoli and I'm starving. And the vending machine doesn't even hold much allure - I really want some fruit salad, a turkey sandwich and maybe a donut (which I admittedly could get from the vending machine ... hmmm) and either a diet coke or an iced latte or a chocolate milk shake ... mmmm. So yeah, its one of those days - if I see it I want it and I'm thinking of skipping my run to go to Trader Joe's.

With 2 Minutes to Spare

I made my perfect week.  And my legs almost fell off.  Funny how a perfect week (at the end of a build no less) is less than ironmen do on race day.  How do their legs not fall off?

I've got to get some sleep, but I'd just like to say that being friends with single girls?  No my cup of tea so much.

Goodnight.

Almost Perfect, Definitely Random

All that stands between me and a perfect week of workouts is 70 minutes of running and 60 minutes of biking.  And a birthday party.

Today so far has been kind of perfect.  The weather.  The bike ride.  The funny conversations.  Its easier to go fast on the group rides because I know that someone is more likely to notice if I go flying off of the cliff on which we ride.   Of course when my nutrition (cliff blocks, gel) went flying out of my half open bento box on the way down a hill it was less than perfect.  Until I realized that my cell phone was still in my bento box  - that was perfect.  I finished my ride on the trainer at home to give myself a shot at making a run at perfect (I don't consider the fact that Thursday's run off was 18 minutes instead of 20 to put perfect in jeopardy - its my perfect and I can round up and I had already run around the block once - twice would have been weird at 10:45 pm).

I have re-concluded that I'm allergic to the pool.  I might have to find a new pool because I'd be an awful du-athlete.  I'm a bad biker and runner but an average swimmer.  But I have fun.  And I tell the boys on the group ride how to shave their legs.  Which was really a conversation I never thought I'd have.

There was a Team in Training marathon group doing a long run on the cliff on which we ride. And for the first time in a long time, I thought it might be fun to do another.

The end.

Picky ...?

The other day my grandmother told me that she was afraid that I would never get married because I'm too picky. By way of example, she claims that I would never marry a street cleaner or a post man.

Which got me thinking.

I think I'm comfortable admitting that I'd never marry a street cleaner. A Zamboni driver maybe, but a street cleaning machine? And even if you tell me that I'm a snob and that I'm assuming that all street cleaners are not overly educated and not particularly well compensated ... I don't know any street cleaners nor do I know where they hang out. I guess I could stalk them by repeatedly parking on the wrong side of the street and moving my car at the last minute with a flirtatious flip of my hair ... but, really? I have a hard enough time meeting guys the regular way (whatever that is) without concocting schemes to meet a street cleaner.

And then there is the post man. I can't say for certain that I wouldn't marry one. They probably get good benefits, they have to pass a test, they probably don't work late (although they do work Saturdays) and they've got to be in decent shape. They do go crazy on occasion and shoot people but ... what are the odds that my post man would go postal?? Again it comes down to lack of opportunity ... the lines at the post office are sooo long, I usually buy my stamps from the machine and when I see the post men walking down the street they seem preoccupied with you know, delivering the mail ...

At any rate, I explained to grandma that I'd maybe go for the postman so if she knew one she could give him my number ... but she refused. Siting my pickiness.

Which got my thinking about the guys I have dated. And then I decided that I really need to become more picky and make my standards MUCH MORE STRINGENT even if it means missing a wonderful romance with a street cleaner.

REJECTED!!

My weekend was a whirlwind of life acknowledgments ...

Saturday, Sara & Scott FINALLY turned 30 and had a lovely party in their lovelier apartment. I feel like 30 is sort of an acknowledgment of midlife - hopefully its not actually your mid-life, but it leaves you wavering between young and silly and old and mature. For example, on one hand, there were two pregnant women and one set of parent's of two at the party ... on the other hand, I'd venture to say there was a fair bit of silliness fueled by lack of significant next day obligations. Where did I fall? Probably right in the middle, which I suppose is where I belong - I had much to do the next day but not so much that I had to leave early or not have that extra beer.

Sunday, I was up bright and early and back to the city for a baby shower. An acknowledgment of the very beginning of life. I LOATHE baby showers, but I'll admit that this one was kind of nice. Small. Just friends. Good food and not too much annoying oohing and aahing. Although, the mother to be did receive a swaddling blanket that came with DVDed instructions. I just don't understand.

The mother to be had her baby the next morning at 3 am. Talk about cutting it close!

I went from the shower to Brooklyn (with a pit stop at the bike store ... there was an incident with a gel that required me to get new gloves. once that stuff dries its like crazy glue!) to visit my grandmother in the nursing home type place. A late life acknowledgment.

If I was more poetic or profound I'd think of some nifty conclusion that reflected on the stages of life. But, I'm not that profound. I wrapped up my weekend of activity with a martini at the local bar. I'm not sure what that is reflective of. But it tasted good!

I started the week of exhausted and organized after loosing my Sunday to baby showers and nursing home visits and when I got home last night there was a note in the mail telling me I was REJECTED from the triathlon I planned to do in June. Apparently it filled up fast (although my friend who mailed his application on the same day as me got in) so I shouldn't take it personally. But I do. Who wouldn't want me?? Ok, don't answer that. Apparently the Wyckoff triathlon, among others, wouldn't want me. I think there is a race in Connecticut that I can probably do instead ... of course Connecticut is more than 25 minutes away and I really do enjoy to sleep. Sigh.

Questions & Confessions

Questions:

1. Did the photographers at the race this weekend not take any pictures of me because they were mildly obsessed with Sara (I think there were 800 pictures of her!!)? Actually, there were two pictures of me in the lost and found, and I was wearing a jacket around my waste obscuring my race number for many of the miles. But there were really a ton of pictures of Sara. Most likely the photographers were liking her new running clothes!!

2. Why is the second day the sorest?

3. Does drinking water really help with the soreness? Because, all those trips to the bathroom were painful, so if the water wasn't helping I'm annoyed.

4. Does anyone else find it slightly ridiculous that I am going to spend $300 on baby gifts this month?

5. Does complaining about 4, above, make me a bad person?

6. Tomorrow, I have to do an easy 30 minute continuous swim. 10 minutes of which can be with a 'toy.' Fins or pull buoy? And if you say pull buoy, paddles?

Confession:

I am mildly obsessed with James Blunt right now. I think this is why I am single: if a guy were to listen to this stuff, he would be immediately emasculated.

Twenty-Two Seconds

I went to high school a good 45 minutes from my house.  I'm the oldest of three so, with two little sibs at home needing to be taken to the local schools, a ride was out of the question.  For the first 2 years and 2 months I took either a school bus or two trains and one bus to get me there.  The one way trip in the morning took close to 2 hours. So, from pretty much the day I turned 17, I drove.  And if the stop lights were blinking rather than doing their normal green, yellow, red thing, I knew it was early and that I was in for a long day.

I ran a half marathon today.  It was my sixth half ever and my third time running this race - its all women with an option for a full and even though I generally get along better with boys, I like the all girls races (and with the full option, if you run the half you won't come in last!).  The camaraderie is awesome.  

I had two goals for this race.  The first was to get there on time (not my forte as Sara will attest).  When I got to the first stop light it was blinking and I knew I was on pace to meet my first goal.  I also knew I was in for a long day.  In fact, it had already been a long day and it was barely 7 am.

I am not a puker.  In fact I haven't puked in well over 10 years.  And I don't get nauseous when I'm nervous (I got through grad school and a fairly big test at the end without ever feeling pukey) but I am now going to talk about puking and other bodily functions. You're warned.

I ate my oatmeal this morning, had a cup of coffee, got dressed and was relatively on time.  Decided to take one more potty break and as I was sitting there the strangest thing happened.  I got hot ... and then my mouth started to water and I had no idea going on.  But then, like some repressed memory, it came to me that this is what happens before you puke.  I quickly finished up what I was doing and got off the toilet to avoid puking into the bathtub.  And after a few minutes of sitting in front of the toilet it passed with me keeping my oatmeal.  But it was weird.  And freaked me out a bit.

And wasted some time.  I knew I could still make it though, so I decided to at least head into the city and see what happened.  I made it into the city and realized in my post almost puking frenzy I forgot my watch.  Great.

Parked.  And the race started.  Stomach still a bit off but I decided to give it a go.  At the one mile mark I asked the people around me how long we had been running so I knew how much time to deduct from the clock going forward.  One lady said 8 minutes and the other 12 so I split the difference with 10 ... that seemed about what I would be running anyway.  I geared up to take my first gel knowing that if it came up I'd call the race and head home.  It stayed down and I actually had a kind of awesome race.  I felt SO STRONG on the uphills, really pushing them and I think that is from the time on the bike.  On the downhills I would tell myself to just relax and let gravity take me ... and it did, I felt like I was flying.  Every mile was under 10 and, unless my math and memory got fuzzy mile 8-9 was around 9:15.  I ate 3 blocks at 40ish minutes and another gel at 1:10ish.  Gatorade at every stop they had it and water where they didn't.  The last 4-5 miles were COLD, I had my jacket on for the first few miles and then around my waste in case it rained but my hands were numb which was weirding me out (they just felt FUNNY) and it took a long time of being COLD before I convinced myself to untie the jacket and put it on, funny hands be damned.  That lasted less than a mile before I was hot.  I think gloves really would have been the answer because without the jacket I was cold.  

I should have had 3 more blocks at 1:40ish but that was in the middle of the last big uphill and when that passed there were only 2 miles left so I pushed on.  My ITBands were tight and I was worried that if I slowed at all to eat the blocks I wouldn't be able to pick it up again.  And, unless my initial estimate regarding the time it took me to cross the starting mat was off I was close to goal number 2 (goal number 1 in case you've forgotten, was to be on time to the race and was accomplished hours ago). 

Goal number 2 was to PR.  My second half marathon was in October of 2004 and I finished it in 2:08:18.  I trained a whole summer and then some for that half and ran it with a fast friend/running buddy (who I've since lost touch with) - I kept her in sight the whole race and finished strong.  I was doing that this race too - I traded places with a pink shirt through out the race and kept a green hat in sight the whole time - if the green hat or the pink shirt got too far ahead, I knew I had to pick it up.

Anyway, with 1 mile left I knew that as long as my first mile was 10mins or faster it would be close but possible to meet goal number 2.  Clockwise races in Central Park suck when they finish at Tavern on the Green.  The last mile is essentially a switch back and largely uphill.  You can see the finish and its deceptively close, and then you drop down into the switch back thingy and you can't see it and then you can see it again but you have to run up a hill and ... after 12.5 miles it kills you.  And for some reason this is where the horses from the horse and buggy carriages like to shit.  So in addition to being uphill torture it smells.

I ran as fast as my body would let me which sucked and hurt and I thought I was going to hurl right in front of the official photographers.  But I didn't.  I ran as fast as I could and I finished and was happy with my race because I felt strong the whole way and I knew all of my miles were sub ten.

And if I hadn't gotten pukey this morning, and I hadn't forgotten my watch I might have run TWENTY TWO SECOND FASTER and had a PR and met goal number 2.  

But, alas, I can't let twenty-two seconds ruin a good day.  Twenty two seconds is nothing really ... maybe in October at the actual 4 year anniversary of the PR.  I can't worry about it now because now? Now I'm remembering the 10-K I ran in June of 2004.  I was training for the half marathon and I ran with my same fast friend and I finished in 58:12 and I'm wondering if I ran a 10-K now .... hmmmm.

And I'm also wondering when I'll wake up if I go to sleep now and what I could eat without aggravating this weird nausea.  And for the record, it would be immaculate, so don't even ask.  

Dear Boobs,

I can't say I blame you for leaving.  Its not like you got that much attention when you were here (at least not in the recent past).  But, I do miss you guys (err, girls) so you're welcome to come back at any time.  If you do come back, I'd try harder to get you attention, but I can't make any promises (my standards remain high).  And if there was something I could do to not have ALL OF THE WEIGHT I'VE LOST since January come from y'all, I'd do it (within reason of course).

So think about it and let me know.  I'll be here.

Miss you - 

K.M.

Walking on Rusty Nails

I went for my annual physical today and because my previous PCP had become a specialist, I was with a new person.  She asked me the usual litany of questions, one of which was "when was your last tetanus shot."  To which I replied, "Sometime in High School."  

Had I known why she was asking I would have lied (I mean, I already lied about how many drinks I have a week ... although, lately the number gets lower and lower, but I digress).  She took some blood (I didn't faint!), gave me a TB test and then GAVE ME A TETANUS SHOT!  Those things hurt!!!  And there is running to do this weekend (more on the running after the weekend) and you need to use your arms to run ...

So, I'm trying to look on the bright side or see the silver lining if you will, because lately I've been getting way too upset about things that shouldn't bother me (old coworkers, old friends, current friends being dumb, current coworkers being dumb).  But all I can come up with is that if I step on some rusty nails this weekend it won't be a big deal.  And that's just not the ray of sunshine I was hoping for.  

So I think I'm going to have a martini at dinner and see if that helps!

Happy weekend kids.

State Lines

Sunday was my first outside ride in many months ... the state line was the turn around point for the 28 mile round trip (it was almost not a round trip, because the ride back was SO COLD I wanted to bury myself in the leaves until it got warm again). It makes me feel strangely cool to ride my bike from one state to another ... and on my next outdoor ride I'm going to go more than two feet across the line;)

In other news, my eyes are DRIVING ME CRAZY AGAIN. My mother was telling me to go back to the Dr. and I said "I just don't want to deal." And she said, "If it was your knee or something you could ignore it, but its your eyes - they're on your face!" And I thought, "If it was my knee, I would have been at the doctor a long time ago!"

I called today to make a hotel reservation for my ten year college reunion (how is that possible?). I wanted to make sure I had the right hotel, so I asked if my friend had booked a room there for the relevant night ... they probably shouldn't have given me this information, but they did and when I asked if I could book a room for that night as well the guy said "Sure. Would you like that on the same credit card as the other room." Yeah, I went to college in a booming high tech metropolis!

Finally, how is it possible ONLY Tuesday? At least I'm getting beer and wings with the tri club tonight ... mmmmmmmm, wings!