The Food Conundrum

Today has been an interesting day.  For no real reason in particular.

It started with a 10 mile rain-soaked practice with Team in Training.  My 6:30 am Saturday alarm got me up and headed out to Lincoln Park in West Seattle, carpooling with Jason and Erica, in an utter downpour.  Hopes of West Seattle looking less rainy than Seattle were squashed as soon as we crossed the bridge.  While the rains let up a little during the first half of the run, by the second half the rain was back to a pour, with bouts of wind thrown in.  The sideways rain that pelted our faces on streets where we were closer to the water's edge were especially enjoyable.

Despite this, Erica and I managed to average a 9 min pace over the course of the dreary 10 miles, with a few stops included.  I think this is a great pace for us on our long runs, although I can imagine the voices of a few coaches telling me that this is probably too fast.  Nonetheless, I was happy with it.

After practice, we dragged our soaked bodies to one of our coach's West Seattle abode to eat some delicious breakfast and listen to Nutrition Clinic Part 2.  Nutrition Clinic Part 1 took place last weekend, and let's just say that it didn't exactly hold up to what we were expecting from the presenter.  So we gave it a re-do with our own coaches today, and it went much better.  It got me thinking even more about my food intake choices lately.  This week, I've been thinking a lot about my food choices--but we'll come back to that.

After breakfast, I came home to an empty apartment.  Well, not exactly empty.  Of course, this lovely lady was still here:

Cute as ever.

But my brother was gone.  He headed to the airport while I was at practice, after a month here working and sleeping on my couch.  Lucy and I are both feeling a sad absence right now, but I could write an entire other post about that.  Perhaps I will soon.

So instead of feeling sad about my little bro leaving, I cleaned the apartment, did some laundry, and was generally productive in the home department.  I walked Lucy and then headed out to hit the neighborhood streets and collect some gift certificates to raffle off at my upcoming fundraiser.  I was pretty successful in begging local businesses for donations and have a great start on collecting goodies.

**SHAMELESS PLUG: Seattle readers, come to my Seattle Sports Trivia Night at the Ballard Station Public House on November 14 @ 6:30!!  $20 gets you a beer, 2 raffle tickets, and entry into trivia.  More raffle tickets can be bought in addition to that!  Come and have some fun!!

Then I went to the grocery store.  And herein lies the problem.

Food has been really confusing for me lately.  I used to love cooking.  Second to running, cooking a good meal at the end of the day was the thing I looked forward to most.  I find cooking to be relaxing, satisfying, and all-in-all a pleasurable experience.  

But lately, cooking hasn't been on the list of things I love.  As my precious "free" time seems to become occupied more and more by other things (like running, captaining my running team, fundraising, work, etc.), cooking has been pushed to the back of my agenda.

I've been stuck in a rut with my meals lately.  A peanut butter and soy sauce rut.  I love my peanut soy sauce spicy noodle stir fry, but I've been making it 3-4 times a week lately.  Because it's easy and good.  

I'm not exactly sure how I've dug myself into this rut.  I used to make it a point to not cook the same meal twice in one week.  But that has changed drastically.  And lately, I've been questioning my food choices.  Not because they are unhealthy, but for other reasons.

My latest audio book that has been accompanying me on morning walks with Lucy is Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.  I've always loved Barbara's fiction, and this is the first nonfiction of hers I've read.  It is an account of Barbara's family's journey through a year of sustainable eating.  They decided to make it a project of theirs, after moving onto a farm in the Appalachian region of Virginia, to eat only foods that are grown locally or on their farm.  This means no shipped-in, out of season fruits and vegetables.  And so far throughout the book, Barbara Kingsolver and her family members (her daughter and husband contribute chapters to the book as well) tout the importance of buying foods in season to reduce the environmental and monetary cost of shipping things across state and country borders just so we can, for instance, have tomatoes in our grocery stores in February.

And then combine all of this with today's Nutrition Clinic about how to properly eat pre-, during, and post- long run marathon training.  Talk about taking in enough electrolytes, carbs, and protein, preferably through whole foods, suddenly has my brain spinning.

How do I get the nutritional aspects I need while buying foods only seasonally?  When fresh fruits are one of the best things a runner can eat regularly, what am I supposed to do through the winter, when seasonal, locally grown food consists of tough greens and tubers?

And so, at around 6:00 this evening, I found myself in the grocery store after a day of productivity, trying to figure out what to buy in order to accomplish 3 goals:

1)  Expand my too-narrow eating preferences of late

2)  Buy fresh foods that will provide my body with what it needs for marathon training

3)  Buy in-season fruits and vegetables

Suddenly my brain felt like it was going to explode.  The more I learn about eating healthy and earth-consciously, the more I realize that there is so much more to learn.  I shouldn't be surprised by this.  I generally consider it to be a rule of thumb that the more I learn, the more I want (or feel I need) to learn.  Why wouldn't this rule apply to health-conscious, earth-conscious eating?

So in a confused fog in the produce section of Fred Meyer, here is what I ended up with:

An odd mix of "healthy" and "in season" deliciousness.

Honeycrisp apples, locally grown and in season.  Some Carnival and Delicata squash (I couldn't get enough of either of these last year).  Green, out of season, mentally-and-nutritionally-necessary-for-running bananas.  A random tomato.  Some shallots, white onion, and red onion.  Are these in season?  I don't know.  And some garlic and ginger because my food must have flavor.  Not pictured are brussels sprouts, red leaf lettuce, broccoli, and green onion.

And this:

A persimmon.

Seriously? A persimmon?? I have no idea what possessed me to buy this thing.  I have no idea what to do with it.  It is staring at me in my kitchen.  I don't even know where to put it.  In the fridge?  In the bowl with the rest of the on-the-counter fresh foods?  And then, what on earth do I do with it?  I typed "persimmon recipes" into google and a plethora of cookie, cake, and sweet recipes came up.  So apparently this thing is a fruit.  That requires baking.  One aspect of cooking which I don't do.

I foresee that this awkward, cloudy-headed ridiculous grocery store buy will stare at me hauntingly for the next week or two until I finally admit to myself that I went in way over my head and toss it in the compost bin.

This food situation has me turning circles in my brain and I can't quite level out.  I successfully made myself a meal this evening that included lots of good veggies, some of which are in season.

Salad with chopped baby carrots, red onion, tomato, slivered almonds and
balsamic dressing.  Roasted acorn squash with butter and brown sugar.
Sauteed brussels sprouts with garlic, shallots, and parmesan.

How do I feel about this meal?  It tasted delicious.  It did not include soy sauce or peanut butter.  It included some in season veggies.  It is healthy.  And balanced...I think?

I'm still confused though.  With not many resources to turn to.

So now I am spending the rest of my super-exciting Saturday evening happily boycotting Halloween (because I was reluctant to put together a Halloween costume, venture out into the rain, and was looking forward to my first night in my apartment sans couch inhabitant).

Everyone I know is out having fun dressed in varying degrees of fun costumes.

Even Lucy was creative enough to come up with a couch-
towel-inspired costume.  You may interpret as you wish.
I did.

But I am here, happily blogging away about my not-so-important food conundrum.  And as with most things in my life, I am totally OK with that.

I'm curious, does anyone have the same neurotic food conundrum as me?  Or maybe your own?  How do you remedy the contradictions?  Let's comment!

Nike Women's Half Marathon: We are women, watch us run

*If you haven't read my previous post about the pre-race day antics in San Francisco, you should definitely do that.  It's super duper uber important.

I think one of the things that makes marathoning so addicting is it's unpredictability.  Come race day, you are always facing a huge unknown.  You can train your heart out, or sit on your bum...once you toe the start line, it's all up in the air.

Yes, training DEFINITELY helps.  Proper training gets you to the start line strong, confident, able, hydrated, rested, and fed.  Without proper training, the question marks of the day grow bigger, scarier, and more numerous.  But even with proper, "perfect" training, the question marks are always there.

What will happen today, in this race?  Will my mind falter, or will it carry my strong legs through?  Will my body fail, or will something fall apart?  Will my tummy stay calm and steady, or will it rumble and rage against me?  Every question runs through your head the morning of the race (or as you toss and turn the night before).

And that's what makes racing addicting.  Because even if this race goes well, or badly, or just OK, the next race will be another big question mark that you are waiting to answer.  Could you have done better?  What could have been different?  Could you have fought the mental battle just a little harder, a little stronger?  Could you run faster, harder, longer?

These questions will never fully be answered.  And that's why we sign up for another race, another training season.  Because we are eternally looking for answers that we will never quite be able to find.

For me, the Nike Women's Half Marathon was a huge question mark.  Remember when I asked myself the ever-important question: "To PR or not to PR?"  I went into this race feeling stronger and faster than I've ever felt before.  But I also went into this race knowing that I've never tackled such a hilly, challenging course (especially after driving the course the day before).  Because this is the elevation chart we were faced with:

This is a section of the marathon course elevations, so we didn't climb the
hill from 12-13.  Instead, we turned around and came back down the last
little blip we'd gone up.

And so I guess when a race is a huge question mark, it will give you a huge answer.  This one definitely did.

Mile 0

Race day morning was one of the easiest pre-race mornings I'd ever had.  With our hotel being literally right at the start line, our wake-up time wasn't too ridiculous (5:30 AM).  We woke up to our pre-prepped supplies, dressed and chilled in the hotel room until it was time to head down to check bags around 6:00.  We checked our bags and were back up in the hotel room by 6:15 to use a normal bathroom, instead waiting in the endless port-a-potty lines.  We relaxed in the room until about 6:40, when we walked down to the start and hopped into our corral for the 7:00 AM start.  

Union Square and lots of lady runners in the background.

Aside from a little panicky hiccup of losing my pre-race granola and needing to replace it with cereal from the hotel "marathon breakfast bar," the morning couldn't have been easier.

As for the weather, it was pretty clear at the start.  A little chilly, but perfect running weather.

Mile 1 - 8:54

At the start, we were in the first corral.  Just a few thousand runners between us and the start line.  I reminded myself out loud again that this was NOT going to be a PR race as I had secretly hoped.  Erica concurred, thinking about the race plan we had made at dinner the night before.  A random nearby lady runner laughed and whole-heartedly concurred as well.

That little red line up there is the starting arch.

At the official start, it took us 1 minute and 45 seconds to cross the line and start the race.  I didn't realize this until later, but that was pretty awesome.  Some of my friends had to wait anywhere between 20 and 35 minutes to cross the start line.

The first mile was so crowded that even with weaving and bobbing it was impossible to go too fast.  We kept pretty close to our 9:00 pace goal for the start.

Miles 2, 3 - 8:43, 8:43

As the adrenaline of the race sunk in while passing along the Embarcadero, and through Fisherman's Wharf, we sped up a little more than we'd wanted to.  But these still felt like comfy, relaxed miles.  And I looked down at my watch as often as I remembered, slowing down the pace when it was needed.  There was a "slight" up and down in this section, but nothing we couldn't easily handle.

Miles 4, 5 - 8:43, 8:43

Yep, look at that steady pace.  Exactly 8:43 for 4 miles straight.  This wasn't in the slightest bit intentional, nor was it anywhere close to our intended easy 9:00 pace, but it felt easy.  And I guess that's what counts, right?

Miles 4 and 5 took us along Marina Boulevard, and into the start of the Presidio.  As we got closer to the water, the fog rolled in, completely obscuring any views we had hoped to see that day.  But we were grateful for the lack of sunshine and luckily had seen all the great views the day before.

Somewhere in mile 4, Erica and I heard a loud and boisterous deep voice catch up to us.  As he called out to "the 2 purple girls" to catch our attention, we found that we were being called to attention by a small, buff, shirtless member of the air force.  He was obviously enjoying the race more than any of the women around him.  He was on leave and decided to run the full marathon during his leave in order to enjoy San Francisco and see lots of lady runners.  He was entertaining anyone within earshot with jokes and movie trivia.  Erica and I tried our best with movie trivia until he attached himself to another girl that actually knew the answers to his questions.  He caught up to us again around mile 5, ready for us with movie questions for a movie we could finally recognize--Beauty and the Beast.  He stuck with us until we hit the big hills, and then I imagine he continued the race, cheerily entertaining the ladies and having the time of his life.

Mile 6 - 8:49

Mile 6 was ONE HUGE HILL--an elevation climb from Crissy Field up to Lincoln Blvd of close to 300 ft straight up.  We were ready for this hill though.  We had seen it the day before, and knew it was the biggest hill of the race but certainly not the last.  Our pace slowed, but not by much.

Mentally, this hill wasn't too tough.  I was suddenly VERY grateful for having driven the race course the previous day.  Yes, this hill was huge, but I needed to get through it with enough energy to keep going for more.  I didn't look at my watch anywhere between miles 6 and 10.  I focused on climbing the hills, keep my breathing under control, and keeping my mind focused, strong, and in a positive place.  I was huffing and puffing my way up the hill, but I felt strong, composed, and confident I could get through it.

Mile 7 - 9:19

The big climb continued into mile 7, and obviously our pace slowed as we reached the top.  When we got to the top, I was completed winded and my legs felt like jello, but I knew I had reserved some energy.  

At the top of the hill, we saw a Team in Training cheer team with a few familiar faces, which was reassuring (this was, in fact, a race benefiting the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society).  Once we rounded the top of the hill, we faced our biggest, steepest downhill.  We started the descent back down 150 ft of what we had just climbed.  The fog was thick, and the road was slippery.  And sometimes super steep downhills can be more challenging and treacherous than uphills.  But we maintained our footing and started cruising down the hill.

Mile 8 - 8:10

The downhill continued until about 3/4 of the way through mile 8.  What was great about this mile was that by the time we hit the next big climb at the end, I felt fully recovered and ready to tackle it.  My breathing was back to normal, my legs didn't feel like jello anymore, and I was ready to take on another hill.

Mile 9 - 9:02

We entered mile 9 a little ways into the next short climb.  We got a little bit of a flat break as we crossed over from the Presidio to Lincoln Park, and then as we rounded a corner...we saw it.  The Clement Street hill.  The cliff.  The last big one.  A close to 100' climb in a little over a 1/4 mile.  And here is where my mind started to give a little.

Luckily this hill looks a lot like Seattle hills.  An uphill block, a quick flat to cross the street.  Another long uphill block, and then another quick flat.  The way the hill was laid out, you could only see the first 4 blocks of the hill.  I looked at the blocks and thought, I can do this, I can make this.  My mind could get me there.  I took it block by block.  Step by step.  I knew there was more after those first 4 blocks, but I'd tackle that when I came to it.  Steadily, with Erica silently climbing at my side, I made it through the first 4 blocks.

As we hit the top of the the 4th block, I saw three more.  And for a moment, for just a moment, I thought, NO.  I didn't want to do it.  I didn't need to do it.  What was I trying to prove?  And then I remembered how disappointed I would be in myself if I didn't climb that hill, if I gave up on it.  I remembered that if I stopped running up this hill, I'd have to watch Erica get further and further away from me as she continued up the hill.  I'd have to run the rest of the race sad, tired, disappointed, and alone.  And so I kept running.  I kept pushing.  My legs kept moving.

I had that argument with myself about 5 times during those 3 blocks. DO IT No GET UP THE HILL But I'm hurting, this sucks STOP WHINING AND GET YOUR BODY UP THIS HILL No, I need to stop KEEP MOVING.  And then suddenly, I was at the top.  I did it.  HOLY CRAP I DID IT.  Best.  Feeling.  Ever.  I owned this race.  This day was mine.

Mile 10 - 8:24

Downhill, glorious downhill.  Rest, recover, revive, and keep moving.  I had remembered from the day before that Clement St. was the last big hill we faced (I even overheard a spectator as we climbed explain to another: "this is the last long hill of the race").  But somehow Erica had convinced herself that there was one more uphill.  So just as I was ready to feel relief, we started anticipating another hill.  But it never came.  Halfway through mile 10, as we cruised down the hill in a cloud of thick fog toward the beach, we realized there were no more big hills.  No more mountains to climb.

So we finally looked at our watches.  We did a little math, and suddenly we realized it.  We could PR.  If we kept up pace for the next 3 miles, we could beat our shared 1 hour 54 minute PR.  We could do this.  And so we started flying.

Mile 11 - 7:45

As we hit the flat along the beach, legs started moving faster than they ever had in a race before.  For 1 mile, it was the pounding of my feet and my heart that I heard as I ran.  But my breathing was getting too hard, my body was getting too tired.  And I still had 2 miles to go.  After we turned into Golden Gate Park and started another small steady incline to mile 12, just before the mile 11 marker, we saw a TNT coach from Seattle.  As I said hello and started talking to her, I realized just how heavily taxed I felt.  

And so I start to slow.  Just a bit.  Just to make it through those last 2 miles.  Erica kept up speed ahead of me, determined to beat the PR she'd been stuck at for her last 4 half marathons.  It was at mile 22 of our San Diego marathon that we split.  I think this is where my mental racing capacity begins to differ from Erica's.  I think she has just a little more strength than me to push through the pain and tough it out to the end.  In those final miles, she can keep going while my brain begins to fight against me.  But nonetheless, I kept running at a pretty good clip.

Mile 12 - 8:43

Solid, reliable 8:43. After Erica and I split, I decided to slow down just enough to leave myself some energy to power through the final mile.  My brain had the capacity to power through a mile, I didn't feel I could power through 3 at a sub-8 pace.  So I slowed up as I continued climbing the slight incline, passing a water stop as they had just begun setting up the tables.  At the mile 12 marker, the half marathoners split from the full marathoners.  The full marathoners kept going up another hill, and we turned around to go one mile back down to the finish.

Mile 13 - 8:02

And so, in mile 13, I left it all on the course.  I ran through the park.  I turned my brain off and focused on moving my feet.  I focused on moving forward.  Forgetting the pain.  Forgetting the negative thoughts, and just getting there.  I looked at my watch.  I could make this PR.  I could JUST make it.  And what a feeling that would be.

The Final .1 - (1 min. 43 sec., 7:02 avg pace)

As I came out of the park, rounded the corner onto the Great Highway, and spotted the finish line, I checked my watch one more time.  I could do this.  I COULD DO THIS.  And I sprinted with every ounce of energy I had left into the finish.  And I did it.  I PR'd the Nike Women's Half Marathon.  Holy crap.

Official Finish Time: 1:53:38

Over a minute faster than my last PR.  Average pace: 8:41. 843rd overall place out of 20,079 half marathon participants.  163rd out of 3,864 in my age group.  Not too shabby.  Not too shabby at all.

When I realized that I had actually PR'd this race, I couldn't stop smiling.  I couldn't believe it.  I hadn't thought it could actually happen.  But it did.  I made it happen.

Erica was there at the finish line, having finished a little over a minute before me, PRing as well.  We got our Tiffany's necklace from our tuxedoed fireman.  We picked up our finisher shirts, moseyed through the finish area, and tackled the "expotique" before it filled up with other finishers. 

Nope, we didn't look through the line for the hottest fireman to take a
picture with.  Not at all.

Then we hung around the finish line waiting for the rest of our friends to finish.

Erica, Amanda, me, Emmie, and Regan.  NWM Half finishers.  Yes we are.
Dorothy should be in this picture too, but she somehow manage to avoid it.

And then we went back to the hotel, showered, refreshed, and celebrated.

And the next day, Dorothy, Erica and I took a day trip out to Sonoma to celebrate some more.

We started with champagne (and managed to get Dorothy into a picture!).

Then we drank wine in the sun.  All day.  While it poured in Seattle.  Ha.

And then, just like that, it was all over.  The questions of the weekend were answered.  Yes, my tummy agreed with me.  Yes, my legs felt strong.  Yes, my mind stayed mostly positive.  Yes, I could PR.

But new questions formed.  As always.  Could I have powered through those last three miles without slowing pace?  Could I have pushed just a little bit harder at the end?  Could I have done just a little bit better?

So for those questions, there will be other races.  And other race days.  And other uncertainties waiting to be revealed.  Cheers to the next one.

Nike Women's Half Marathon: Pre-race fun

It's been hard for me to sit down and start writing about my weekend in San Francisco, simply because I have overwhelmingly too much to write about.  In a good way.

And there are so many pictures to share.  So so many.  Starting with this one:

I give San Francisco full credit for the beauty of this picture, not my super
amazing iPhone picture taking skillz.

So go grab a glass of wine (or your drink of choice).  Then grab a comfy couch spot.  Snuggle up to your pup (or your pet of choice), and let's get started.

Saturday

Erica picked me up at 4:00 am to head to Sea-Tac and make our 6:00 am flight to Oakland.  We chatted to entire flight (so much for "reading" or "sleeping" as I'd originally intended--chatting is much more fun).  We arrived in San Fran around 8:00 and waited for our friend and fellow runner Dorothy to pick us up from the airport.  She'd conveniently lived in San Fran for 12 years before moving back to her hometown Seattle, so she became our official tour guide for the weekend in her rented car.  I must say, without Dorothy's generosity, tour-guiding, and general good cheer, this weekend would have been a completely different one for us all!  Thanks Dorothy!

From the airport we went straight to check into our hotel, which happened to be right in Union Square where the Nike Women's Expo was taking place and right across from the purple name wall at Niketown.  Nike does a great job of making this race feel special for so many reasons.  This is one way--publishing every participant's name on the wall outside of Niketown.

25,000 names.  There's mine!!  (Poofy North Face makes me look huge!)

And for extra proof:

I am not related to the other Kaplan next to me.  I think there were about 10
Kaplans on the wall.  There are lots of Kaplans in this world.

The wall was probably the most exciting part of the Expo.  They set up a tent in the middle of Union Square, filled it with loud music, a few vendors set up in an awkward, inconvienient way, incredibly long lines, and not-so-great samples and deals.  All of the race apparel was in Niketown, which was again blaring music and crowded beyond belief.  One of the reasons that I disliked living in NYC was the crowds.  I get claustrophobic, uncomfortable, and tense in large, packed areas and simply can't wait to get out.  I wasn't always that way, but by the time I left NYC I had developed this issue and it has only magnified in the past few years.  I couldn't wait to get out of there and start exploring the city I hadn't seen since I was a kid.

So our first stop after the Expo included breakfast and these:

Yes, it was the day before the race.  Yes, there is
champagne in that OJ.  I don't care I was on vacation.

And then it was time for our guided tour of San Francisco, courtesy of Dorothy.  The first thing we did was drive as much of the half marathon course as we possibly could.  This included heading down Market St. to the Embarcadero, heading around Fisherman's Wharf, down Marina Blvd and through the Presidio.  

Another gorgeous view of the bridge from somewhere in miles 4 and 5.

This whole part seem flat, easy, and totally doable.  Then we hit the hills at what would be mile 6.  Up a huge hill from Crissy Field pretty close to the on ramp of the Golden Gate Bridge.  We climbed Lincoln Blvd, our jaws dropping as we kept going up and up and up.  Then Lincoln Blvd took a steep hill down only to head back up again.  

After cruising down Camino Del Mar, we cut our way over to Clement St, which starts off flat.  And then it goes up and up and up some more.  At one point, I turned around in my back seat in the car and looked backwards down the hill we had just driven up, and it looked like a cliff.  A long, steep, steady cliff.   And this is when we REALLY all kind of freaked out a little.  Five of us girls in the car, trying to ready out minds to climb these crazy hills in less than 24 hours.  With deep breaths, we kept driving to see where the last 3 miles of the race would take us.

Luckily, those three miles included a steep decline down the Great Highway, some flats and slight inclines ("slight" compared to the mountains we'd climbed before) as we ran east through Golden Gate Park, then a downhill finish (yay!! Something to look forward to!) as we U-turned through the park and headed back down to the finish line on the Great Highway.

By the end of this little drive, I couldn't decide if it had helped or hindered my anxiety towards what I had always known would be a hilly race.  All "secret" hopes of a PR were slipping slowly from my mind.  This was a tough course.  Despite living in Seattle and tackling some extremely hilly courses there (the Seattle Amica Half Marathon, Whidbey Island Half, even the Seattle RNR), none of them compared to what we faced in this course.

So instead of lingering on thoughts of impending doom and struggle, we spent the next few hours resting our legs as we toured around the city in our comfy ride.  We saw all the great neighborhoods, of which I can barely remember half of their names (Mission, Castro, Noe Valley, North Beach, Downtown, etc, etc).  We took a quick trip across the bridge into Marin (pronounced /mar IN/ not /MAR in/) county and down into Sausalito.  We saw the "sneaky squirrel" viewpoint of the bridge:

Emmie, Erica, me, and Regan.  Dorothy once again wanting to be the picture
taker and not a part of the picture :)

We waited in line to be a part of the winding train down Lombard Street:

Switchbacks!  For cars!  Can you imagine actually living on this road?

We stopped by the Painted Ladies so I could take a picture for my mama.

A gorgeous row of historic Victorians, framed by the city skyline.
A beautiful juxtaposition.

And then of course we had to make a quick trip to the corner of Haight and Ashbury.

History happened right here.  Hippiedom.  Free love.
This is where it all went down.

And then, after hopping around the entire city in just one day, we headed back to North Beach for a delicious pasta dinner at Calzone's and a stop for some gelato (which I did not partake in--no extra dairy for me the day before a race!).

At dinner, Erica and I re-examined the race plan we had configured on the plane that morning.  Instead of starting at an 8:50 pace and seeing how we felt from there, we decided to bump it back to a 9:00 pace and resign ourselves to the fact that it would not be a PR race for us.  Not with those hills.  As much as we wanted it, it couldn't be in the cards.

Little did we know...

My overall impression of San Francisco (having seen it as a grown adult for the first time): a sweet, charming, big city.  Larger than Seattle, but with the same neighborhood feel, each neighborhood having it's own particular character and charm.  But wandering around downtown reminded me a little more of being in NYC because it had more of a big city feel than Seattle, without that crushing feeling that NYC sometimes induces.  Although, I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a little nostalgic for NYC in this larger city.  If sometime in the future I for some reason had to choose another place to live, San Francisco would be at the top of list.

And then after dinner, it was back to the hotel.  Time to rest up.  Early to bed, early to rise for one of the most surprising races of my running "career."

Which I will tell you about next time :)

I know the suspense will kill you in the interim.  Good luck with that.

Anticipating the Unknown

I've been feeling weird this week.  I'm not sure why, but things just kind of feel different.  It could be the fact that I have my little brother sleeping on my couch.  It could be that Seattle has finally decided that it's officially fall and has tucked the sun away for an undisclosed amount of time.  It could be my anticipation of the Nike Women's Half Marathon this weekend.  Who knows?

It's not a bad weird.  I'm loving having my little bro here (I had thought I might get a little overwhelmed with his presence here in my small apartment, but I'm not.  At all.  In fact, I'm already anticipating missing the comfort of his company when he's gone in another 2.5 weeks).  The fall weather is feeling good, and I'm loving getting some runs in cooler weather.  All the brown, dead grass has been depressing lately, and I'm willing to sacrifice to have a little greenery before the gloom of winter sets in.  And I couldn't be more excited about my upcoming trip to San Francisco.

School is even going really well so far.  I couldn't ask for a better class this year.  They are sweet, kind, excited to learn, and totally get my 6-year-old sense of humor.  Accidental smiles (mine and theirs) continue to happen repeatedly throughout my days.

But nonetheless, I'm just feeling weird.  Like maybe there's a change encroaching in the air.  I imagine Mary Poppins flying away on the changing winds--not because she wants to, not because she has to, but because she did what she came to do, and it is time.  Change has come and so everyone must face it.  I'm not planning on flying away anywhere far off in the near future, I'm quite content where I am.  But I kinda wish I had Mary Poppins here to tell me why I feel so funny.  She always knew the answer.

The fog rolled in while Lucy and I were walking this morning then lingered
into the early afternoon.  Doesn't it feel like Mary Poppins weather?

Unfortunately, Mary Poppins isn't here to answer all my questions.  So instead let's talk about Nike Women's.

I'm feeling trained and ready for my 13.1 on Sunday, but again I have that weird, I-don't-know-what's-going-to-happen feeling about the the event.  People who have run this race before have 2 things to say about it: 1) it's super fun! and 2) it's super hilly! (exclamations for entirely different purposes in both of those statements).

In training for this race, I haven't exactly been following a training plan.  I've been getting weekend long runs and recovery runs in, and on the weekdays I've been averaging about 3 runs a week.  I've been throwing in hills as often as possible, but haven't done my typical "hill rep" training.  Yesterday we had our first hill rep training for Disney World with TNT, and I felt strong and fast on the repeated hill ladders we did for 45 minutes (including warm up and cool down).  It was definitely a confidence booster.

I've also been getting faster.  My weekday runs are averaging mostly between 8:45s and 9:00s compared to my 9:00-9:30 averages at the beginning of the summer.  I am confident that if this were even a flat-ish race, I'd be all ready to PR.  

But it's not a flat-ish race.  And I have no idea what to expect.  When I signed up for this race, I told myself it wouldn't be a PR.  I didn't want to expect a PR.  But now I kind of want it, but don't want to expect it at the same time.  I want to secretly (on the internet) admit that I am hoping for a PR, but I also want to enjoy this race and not set myself up for disappointment at the finish line.  I want to be able to smile wide as I take my Tiffany's necklace from the tuxedo-wearing fireman who will hand it to me on a silver platter at the end of the race (seriously, that will actually happen).

But I have to remind myself that after almost every race I've run (except maybe Whidbey Island), I've been just a tiny bit disappointed.  Because I am a runner.  And as a blogger I follow pointed out in her post today, what makes us dedicated runners is that we are never satisfied.  We always want to do more and do better.  What else would drive this crazy obsession we runners have?

And so now the task is to mentally prep myself for the challenges of the race and the challenges of accepting the results of the race, whatever they may be.  And to be happy.  And smile.  And stare at a fireman.  Who is handing me a Tiffany's necklace.  And then go to Sonoma and drink lots and lots of wine.

On second thought, who cares about how the race turns out.  It's going to be an amazing weekend.

Accidental Smiles

Throughout the day today, I caught myself unintentionally smiling on more than one occasion.  It surprised me.  Because for about a year or so, I kind of forgot how much I love my job.

Last year was tough, to say the least.  I had 2 children in my class for most of the year with severe behavior issues.  And I'm not complaining--every teacher has their fair share of this.  The "special education masters degree" part of my mind wants these children to be in the classroom.  It wants to help them and teach them and guide them.  It wants to provide them with the supports they need to be successful learners and successful in life.  But it isn't easy.

At the beginning of last year, as I realized what I was facing, there was another part of my mind that was sad.  One of the things I love about teaching 1st grade is the excitement.  The enthusiasm.  The laughter and smiles.  I feed these things to the kids and they feed them right back to me at an amplified degree.  So I was sad, because I realized that for the year, I had to tame the enthusiasm, tame the smiles, tame the laughter and the moments of controlled learning chaos.  For a year, I had to become "serious teacher."  Few smiles, no jokes, and not nearly enough enthusiasm.

Last year, going to work every day was hard.  I opened the door of the classroom, took a deep breath, and powered through the day in the best way I knew how.  I gave my all in the best way I could.  Last year was the ultimate test of my patience level.  I can tell you with full confidence that I have more patience than I ever thought could exist (when it comes to kids...daily adult life is another story).  Then at the end of the day, I was drained of energy.  I couldn't think.  I couldn't put any effort into thinking about the next day, let alone planning it.  Instead, I tried to think about my next run.  Or my next blog post.  Or the next thing I'd pile on my plate in an effort to distract myself from the difficulties of my job.

Then, slowly throughout the year, all the things I really loved about teaching drifted away to the back of my mind.  Because I didn't get to see or do much of what I really loved.  Because, in all the effort of trying the best I could to keep control and prevent outbursts while also trying to provide quality instruction, I forgot about the fun things.  I felt like a bad teacher.  I felt like I wasn't doing my best, even though I was trying harder than I'd ever tried.  I felt discouraged and frustrated and sad.  

Then those feelings carried over into this year, because it had become my world and I forgot there was more.  That sinking feeling in my stomach that I used to get, it continued.  Until this week.

I've been spending the last month with my kids relearning why I love teaching so much.  I remembered that I really do get excited about teaching, and that it isn't just an acting gig.  I remembered that 6-year-olds are little kids who love to laugh and love to learn.  And what's even better, I feel like I'm really getting to know my kids again.  Last year, I got to know 2 kids really well.  And kind of knew the others.  But this year, just a month into the school year, I've learned so much about all of them.  I've learned what subjects they really love, what motivates them, what they struggle with, what kinds of things they love, and what kinds of things they hate (apparently ALL 6-year-olds hate radishes...every single one).  

I love teaching first grade, because when you make a mistake, there's no one better to laugh at your mistakes with you than first graders.

I love teaching first grade because they want to learn.  They want to do well.  They want to be the best they can be.

They want to love you.  And they want you to love them.  And you do, because you can't help it.

And so, when you are a first grade teacher, sometimes you catch yourself smiling several times throughout the day simply without realizing it.  And then you smile again, because you realize you are accidentally smiling.  And an accidental smile is the truest smile there is.

Things I've learned since going cold turkey...

...with the snooze button.

But first, some happy news.

My brother, Nathan (apparently known to everyone outside my family as "Nate"), is officially sleeping on my couch for a month.  Yes, this is happy news.  I love my family very very much, but I quite often feel very far removed from all of them and miss them even more.  My parents live in Rochester, NY, Nathan in Buffalo, NY, my sister Larissa in Sweden, and my other brother Ian in NYC (although he's more of a transient these days and I'm not quite sure he's bound to any city).

Nathan is in town to do a rotation for med school at one of the local hospitals, so I know I won't see him all that often.  His first day was today, and he left at 6am this morning.  It is now 7:20 pm and I just got a call saying he's on his way home.  Nonetheless, we had a fun weekend together, and even if I don't get to see him all that much in the next few weeks, it's nice just knowing he's here.  Knowing that I have my brother in the same city as me is just incredibly reassuring and puts a huge smile on my face.

And Lucy is as happy as a clam having someone else around to jump on, lick, pester, and play with.

Cool dude bonding time.

She is even willing to share her coveted spot on the couch.

Because it means one more person to snuggle with!

It'll be a fun month for all of us!

And now, I haven't made a fun list in a while, so I thought a list describing my progress with the snooze button would be an excellent topic.

Things I've learned since going cold turkey with the snooze button

1)  Kicking an old habit isn't easy.  The snooze button has been my favorite morning friend for much of my adult life, and it hasn't been easy to give him up.  There has been many a morning where the 5 am alarm has gone off and all my body wants to do is press that button.  But my brain kicks in pretty quick, and I have yet to have one failure of a morning.

2)  A realization: In 9 minutes, it will be just as hard to get up.  No matter how many times I used to press the snooze button, it was never easy to get out of bed.  Waiting 9 minutes never made that eventual kick-the-feet-out-of-bed movement one ounce less painful.  And 9 minutes is not quality sleep.  It did me no good.  Therefore, I may as well just get out of bed.  Right now.

3)  I'm afraid of the dark.  In the wintertime, I get used to walking and running with Lucy in the dark after work.  But it's OK, because there are lots of other people out and about too.  It may be dark, but it's still only 5 or 6 pm--nowhere close to bewitching hour.  But at 5 am, it is eerily quiet.  The darkness is stale and cold, and it seems to be waiting for something exciting to happen.  Lucy and I jump at every sound, every movement.  We stick to the lighted main roads and don't venture back into the neighborhoods I love so dearly in the daylight.

4)  There are morning regulars.  The coffee shop baristas who are up and opening things as I walk by.  The sprightly old man in his green vest and coke bottle glasses that brightly says hello as we pass each other on our morning walks (one moment of brightness in the dark, eerie morningtime).  The 3 or 4 early morning runners, out getting their sweaty time in long before the sun rises.  The delivery men, unloading clanky trucks on early morning routes.  And other dog walkers.  We all smile and nod and continue on our way, bonded only by our early morning connection--a strange connection that doesn't exist with the multitudes of evening street regulars.

5)  Audiobooks are awesome.  After discovering the amazingness that is the Seattle Public Library, which allows me to "borrow" audiobooks for 3 weeks at a time and download them to my smartphone, all I crave is my morning half hour listen.  My brain doesn't like thinking in the morning, and this is the perfect way to wake it up and ease it into the day.  In the 3 weeks of school we've had so far, I've listened to close to 3 books.  With my typical lack of reading time, it can take me months to get through one book.  But with this audiobook discovery, I'm going to be able to make a huge dent in my "to read" list on Goodreads (favorite listen so far: Snowflower and the Secret Fan...how on earth they did that to their feet I will never understand).

6)  It's nice to have "time" in the morning.  I used to rush through my mornings, barely allowing myself enough time to sit down and eat a bowl of cereal.  Now I have my walk.  I sit and enjoy my breakfast while reading blogs or catching up on personal emails.  I take my time getting ready, putting make up on, choosing an outfit, and getting out the door.  I feel sufficiently awake and ready to take on the day, having already been awake for almost 2 hours by the time I leave the house.  And then I get in the car, drive 45 minutes, and my body falls back asleep again.  So sad.  Silly unfun commute...

7)  My "leaving-Lucy-at-home-alone-all-day" guilt is only partially assuaged.  I feel much better leaving the house in the morning knowing that her bladder and bowels are fully emptied.  I also am happy that she's gotten to walk around for 30 minutes before falling back asleep all day.  By the time I get home from work though, the "you've-been-stuck-in-the-apartment-all-day" guilt comes rushing back as always.  But it's nice to only need a short run or another half hour walk to tire her out again.  So some of that after work pressure has been relieved, which was essentially the goal of all of this.

8)  Perhaps, one day, I could become a morning exerciser.  Who knows...crazier things have happened.

I remember learning a long time ago from my orthodontist in middle school (another story for another day) that it takes 21 days to form a new habit.  I was going to come on here and celebrate making it one month and officially making my morning routine a "habit," but silly me had to go and do dorky "research" on the interwebz, and I stumbled upon this article that claims an average of 66 days is more accurate.  So really, I'm barely halfway there.

The rains haven't started in Seattle, and our warmer weather and sunshine is sticking around much longer than it typically does.  This has made my early mornings relatively easier.  But I dread the first pouring down rain morning and I wonder how strong my will power will be.  And I must come to accept that on those mornings, the hair will poof and I will be faced with more hair-in-pony-tail days than I'm used to.  I can accept that.  Less chance of catching the lice that sometimes makes it's way around the classroom.  Fun thought, I know...but a girl's got to find the positives somewhere. 

So to conclude the list, I can't say that the early morning riser goal has been achieved, but I consider myself to be well on my way.  Mission half-accomplished.