Saturday, July 30, 2011

Harriman State Park - 17 miles by the string

My planned route intended 14 miles by the string (measured on a flat map and thus lacking the additional mileage due traveling at an angle while gaining/losing elevation) as my run followed by a 4 mile hike out with the boys from Lake Wanoksink to the train at Sloatsburg.  Nathan, who is nearly recovered from his last race earlier this month, still feels it a little.  Hence recruitment of John, to pace Nathan and give him a day of slower and yet still long miles.  For all parties the intention was a good time out and nothing more. 

John and Nathan on the train
The Pine Meadow red trail began a mile from the train station and was relatively unmaintained until getting close to the visitor's center a mile in.

Residual from the previous night's rain helped clean the bug spray from our shins.
At the split with a yellow marked trail I continued straight while the boys headed north.  Not too much later came the orange marked trail that in either direction offers nice elevation.  I intended to go north, as the vertical gain becomes more of a rock scramble to lead to the top of Halfway Mountain (1200 feet).  But when I soon hit the orange trail I saw this in front of me -- up! -- and the idea of checking which direction this headed never occurred to me. 

Which way?  Up!  'Cause up is where the fun is.
Supposedly I'd hit a scenic view very soon, once 1/3 up the side of Halfway Mountain.  I found one, and felt proud of myself for remembering my directions without use of my map.  At this point my map was still stored in my hydration pack, as was my camera, and since I was already taking the pack off/on/off/on to take pictures I became too lazy to take it off again for a map check.  Didn't seem pertinent unless I were to encounter an unexpected turn or crossing, since thus far everything went according to plan.  Little did I know that I was actually headed south.

First scenic view, believed to be the unknown view from part way up Halfway Mountain when in fact this was Russian Bear to the south. 
I expected to merge with yellow and blue marked trails before continuing on blue.  I didn't remember what elevation changes to expect in the mean time, and -- since for some reason I love wild grasses -- was happy to find the trail single track decline through a meadow of sorts.

Wild grass.  Love it.
I kept my eye out but saw no other trail crossings.  Did I miss them?  Well, I thought, if so then I'll keep on until this trail hits Lake Sebago and turn northeast on trails paralleling my original route.  Not so tough to miss a lake.  Instead of a lake I hit another view, ten times better than before.  Oh, maybe the add-on trails weren't well marked and I only now his the second un-named scenic view labelled on the map?  Came a bit later than I expected.  Then again, plotting via mileage by the string means you could have double the distance between two points than you expected.  Okay, onward ho.

This was actually Ramapo Torne, overlooking the town of Ramapo and, in the far distance, the New York/New Jersey state line.
I continue along, but then realize that the orange seems never ending.  I should hit the lake straight on, so where is it?  Meanwhile I have lovely vagary to guide me between small painted markings on trees.  This is when I remember how old grad school has made my eyes, as I keep having to stop at one marking and scan for the next one, because I could imagine three route from where I stand.  

If you see a "maintained trail" in this, then you need to be my eyes from now on.  Psha.
Soon I get an ingenious idea.  My wallet items are in a ziplock type of dry bag that is likely big enough for my camera and, once folded in half again, my map.  I'll swap the wallet stuff into the map's cheap plastic ziplock.  Behold!  I no longer have to remove my pack for pictures and map checks.  True genius at times.  This is when I hear my more sarcastic friends in my head asking "So, tell us the name of your blog again...?"  I hit a downhill and wondered if again my interpretation of distances was incorrect and I was now heading downhill towards Lake Sebago.

Whence I came.
Whither I continue.
I head down for a good 15 minutes and then, lo!  I hit the blue trail.  I check my map, look at my accrued time -- slow moving or underestimated distance? -- shrug my shoulders and carefully take a right turn.  I worry that it'll be a much longer day than expected should I go for the full plotted course, particularly since I started with only 2 liters of fluid.  The blue trail was flat and rather unremarkable, save for a doe sighting, so I took comfort in making up for lost time.  In my head I was pondering whether to take the next forest road southeast so that I didn't end up farther than I could safely travel in one day.  Then the blue hit a red trail that ran perpendicular.  Yes, still on course!  Wait, the blue bottoms out, but the map says its supposed to continue for another mile.  Oh dear.  Map check.

I was still quite confused, stood there for a minute trying to figure it out.  Where's the lake?  This was supposed to actually hit the lake when meeting the next trail, but that's only if I was still on orange.  Wait, yes, I was on blue and am now at red.  I then heard cars and a couple motorcycles coming from straight ahead.  Hang on, none of the roads are supposed to go through here.  Ohmygoodness, have I landed across on the east side of the park by Hwy 202?  No way.  It sounds like a parking lot, there'll be an official map with location labelled, right?

I head up the red trail the 1/8 of a mile and, wait... wait for it... wait for it....  Synapse!  I've seen this before.  Could it be?  Noooo, I didn't end up at the visitor's center did I?  I get closer and realize that, yes, that is exactly what I did.  I look at the map, trace the orange trail south past two scenic views, follow it's swoop westward, see the blue, follow that north and northeast.  I did a loop.  A friggin loop when there's miles of trails headed everywhere.  Sonofabitch.  

Is that the...?  Yes, Miss Smartypants, that is the visitor's center back at the start.  Think you're sooo clever, "I don't need no stinkin' map, I got it all up here" *tap*tap*.  Sigh. 
Well, I said aloud to the bugs and the bushes, at least I know where I am, and at least I'm still within distance of the rendezvous.

And so off I went on the same start as before.  Pine Meadow trail marked red.  Only this time I chose the yellow route that cuts along the north edge of the creek so that I wasn't technically retracing my steps.  Yellow turned to white, which was a rock mess.  The picture below does no justice to the lots-of-boulders surface requiring a horizontal rock scramble.  I just didn't have the heart to take a picture of the evil stuff because I was so over that section.  There's nothing useful about a rock scramble unless you go up or down, or unless you are skirting an actual body of water.  Pointless judgements, but whatever.  Grumble grumble grumble.  Oh right, this is why I need to run with people, because then you don't wanna give up so fast once taxed.  Mental note.

White trail, also not clear aside from being able to see the next white marker over yonder.  Grumble.
I made it to the red trail, somehow the Pine Meadow trail that spontaneously jumped sides of the creek.  The surface under foot helped my mood, and again I reassured myself that I knew where I was, and this was a good thing since I left my phone at home.  I don't get service in the mountains anyways, and I sweat enough that ev-er-y-thing needs to be okay covered in sweat or needs a dry bag.  But not having it made me worry while I was in trail limbo land.  The first small lake, Pine Meadow Lake, should be very soon, which means the rendezvous lake, Lake Wanoksink, was very soon thereafter.  I looked forward to the swim to help dissolve what grumbles I had left.

Staying positive.  Did I ever mention that my latest love is a visor?  Hate the logo, but it does its job well.  More like a sweat band with a brim.  Which is what a "sweat ball," as Nathan calls me, needs.

Within five more minutes I hit Pine Meadow Lake.  Aaaah.  This time landmarks appeared in an expected amount of time.

Pine Meadow Lake.  Super nice to camp next to, according to John. 
I find a likely looking forest road, have a good feeling about it, and pull north toward what I hoped was the Lake Wanoksink.  It was, and that's where I landed.  I saw two shirts drying on a bush that looked quite familiar.  I saw John sitting on a log, having just come from a swim in the water.  I immediately de-geared, hung my sweaty shirt out to dry after wringing it out.  Twice.

Lake Wanoksink.  Whew.
Nathan had gone for a running lap around the lake.  Expected time 10 minutes.  John saw him across the way within 5, but after that hadn't seen him for a half hour.  This lake does not have a trail along its edge like at Pine Meadow, so we hoped that he didn't fall in while bushwhacking or veer too far away if vegetation was too thick.  He arrived ten minutes later, having bushwhacked for 45 minutes.

Nathan pauses before a swim.
Another half hour later the boys' clothes were nearly dry.  I was able to wring mine out again, but at least they were getting somewhere.  John comments that I arrived looking like I had already swam through Pine Meadow Lake en route the rendezvous.  Nathan calls out "Sweat ball!"  My shoes are still soaked from the runoff due to gravity.  The air has become cooler within the last half hour too, and we realize clouds have rolled in.  

Ooooh, maybe we'll get the rain I've been hoping for all week.
Within minutes it begins to rain.  We wait it out beneath the canopy of trees though of course get wet.  John foresees it as a light deluge, a common northeast phenomenon of rain blowing in strong only to be gone within ten minutes.  "I bet its in its last hurrah."  Nathan isn't frustrated by being wet again,  though does find it ironic.  I'm actually grateful to feel a slight chill.  This day was the tail end of the 104 degree heat wave; only a high of 92, but nevertheless 80 degree rain felt magnificent.  The rain lightened up to a sprinkle.  "See?  Good old northeast patterns," says John.  We begin our 4 mile return hike to Sloatsburg, following the red Pine Meadow trail (that I have become so familiar with) that will take us the entire way.  And, of course the rain picks up again.  Made me smile.  "So much for your last hurrah, John."

We stopped at Pine Meadow Lake on a bit of a detour to check on an area John particularly enjoys.  The rain by then let up again, proving that this was the actual end of the storm.  In proper northeast fashion, this was the sky at the time, with enough of a change from left to right that it messed with the exposure on my cameras auto setting:

Pine Meadow lake.  To the left, blue sky.  To the right, gray misty haze and soaked boys.  Straight ahead, a rock split that reminds me of front teeth (of which I forget its name).  Worth viewing big. 
From there we continue on, make it all the way the Sloatsburg without problem.  The sun came out again, and at a point all the rocks around us in direct sunlight were steaming off the rain.  Within minutes some areas appeared as though precipitation never happened.

Past the visitor's center (the third pass for me, thank you) the tree canopy was a bit thicker and thus the ground remained a little slick in places.  I mainly took videos of the hike out, since I wanted to spare everyone the Blair Witch Project type of bounce-bounce-nauseating-shake-shake from running.  At a point I caught Nathan on camera with a little slide/trip off a rock.  He stayed on his feet, looked back at me since he could probably hear me snickering.  A few seconds later I hit the same rock and, as I probably deserved, slip and fall.  Caught myself with my hands, only injury a little bruise on the side of my knee.  Well, and a little shot to my pride, assuming there was much of it left following a day of getting fooled by the orange trail.  Anyways, my slip was also caught on film.

In Sloatsburg we had nearly 2 hours before the train, so went to the tavern for burgers.

John followed this face by saying "I haven't had beer in a while.  That's really good!"  I believe it was Yuengling.
We sat outside by request, especially because we preferred to not sit in the A/C for so long while still wet.  Eyeing direct sun on the opposite side of the porch, we laid out shoe and socks to dry.  Small town, Sloatsburg, so not many people entering/leaving the place.  But the 4 groups who left during our time there were all baffled by it.  "Shoes!  Why are shoes there?  And socks?  Funny."  Two people actually looked up and saw us over yonder on the porch and made the connection, though they still found it bizarre.  These residents obviously were not the type to travel by foot either through town or through their local trails.

They sort of got dry.  Sort of...
We left with ten minutes to spare before the train arrived, and since the platform was a mere 200 feet from the tavern we had time to stand in the sun and finish drying off our backsides since they were still a little wet.

Once home I remeasured my actual route.  My loop of orange from trail head to visitor's center version 2.0 came to 7.11 miles in about an hour's time.  Pretty good considering the elevation and terrain.  All in all the day came to 17 miles by the string when including the mile stretch from train to trailhead each direction.  Here's a summary of the day.  As always, this version (posted via link) cuts off the edges.  For the full, better experience follow the link to the actual YouTube video.  I think the HD quality was automatically removed due to the file's size during upload, but it still turned out pretty well.  I was also happy to find that my computer came with a video editing program (iMovie) and I didn't need to download some weird open source program.  This was my first edit to any video, so enjoy.  I hope to make more videos via editing in the future.

[Edit: Nathan unknowingly did as all males in my family do when a camera is around -- stick out his/their tongue in protest.  Classy.]

Saturday, July 23, 2011

104. Degrees, that is.

Hot.  Very Hot.
Waking at 5:00 a.m. to a red-orange sun hiding behind a gray particulate haze and undulating, cement-manifested heat waves is never a good sign.  Especially when you do not live with an air conditioner. 

Most patients squeezed themselves into the clinic's Thursday schedule in attempt to avoid going outside in >100 degree heat.  That meant Thursday had 14 patients on schedule.  Friday had 9 patients, only 5 of which showed.  By noon it was 102.  All but one patient of mine came in the morning, so I had a break from 12:30 until 3:00 p.m.  Despite the heat, I wanted better food options than those offered by nearby delis and decided to traverse the sixth of a mile to Whole Foods.  The so called "air" was more of a translucent viscous molasses.  Didn't affect me too bad on the way out, though it hit hard by the return trip despite moving slow, having all pants legs and sleeves rolled up and sticking to as many shadows as I could.  At least some good pineapple was wrought from my efforts.

By 3:00 p.m., when my only afternoon patient arrived, it was 104.  This was Ms. C, the bariatric patient I previously described.  She had 15 minutes to cool down and settle before we began, but to no avail.  Two feet from the wheelchair and we were worried about a cardiac event.  She declined the wheelchair, opting to maneuver the remaining 3 steps to sit on the high-low mat.  Pulse-ox was down to 92%, heart rate in the 130s.  Took a couple minutes, but her vitals normalized and we got her some water.  She is already asthmatic (as well as many other things prone to bariatric patients), and the air quality had zapped her.  From then on we only stood for a couple minutes at a time and shifted weight slowly between each foot.  The Dominican and Puerto Rican patients we saw in the morning laughed at the heat, but they did admit that the air quality and humidity were somewhat more than they were used to.

I didn't have the stomach for hardly any food unless it was watermelon, pineapple, grapes, or something equally as fluid filled.  My consumption for the day included: small iced coffee chased by 2 glasses of water, 1 liter orange flavored seltzer, 1 liter of gatorade spread out into 3 liters of gatorade/water mix, pint of fresh pineapple, 5 pounds of watermelon (weight before eating and thus including the rind), 12 ounce can of Sanpelligrino limonata, and another 1 liter of water.  Other food: cranberry orange scone, 1/2 cinnamon raisin bagel with ~Tbsp of peanut butter and salt, 1/8 pound deli turkey meat rolled with 2 ounces of cheese.  C'est tout.  The cheese -- which had been refrigerated, mind you -- started sweated after 2 minutes and melting after 5 minutes exposure to the air.  I've taken to 10 minute showers as cold as I can stand immediately before leaving the apartment and, more importantly, immediately before going to bed.  I barely towel off and keep the fan blasting on me. 

The kittehs are dealing somewhat better than I expected, taking shelter on the bathroom floor and a few other "cooler" locations.  Every so often they reappear, mouths agape and panting fast.  I rub them down with ice cubes until they can't stand it, leave them with a look reminiscent of junior high boys who care about their hair for the first time and use too much gel to make it spikey with day-long endurance.  Sadie tolerated the ice pack for ten minutes (see above), Merus for a mere two.

The online course of Clinical Decision Making is finally over as of yesterday, which means I no longer have mindless work to complete over the weekend.  Today was my regular teaching appointment in Queens, followed by laundry, cleaning, and more leisurely planning of upcoming patient treatments/patient related research.  Weird to think that I am still a student, my "job" is actually an internship with only two weeks remaining, and that classes will start up in a mere five weeks.  What to do with myself?  De-stressing for the first time since January will be key.  But let's take this one weekend at a time.

Many New Yorkers are at a beach or will be heading there tomorrow.  I cannot handle public beaches when in season.  Too many people.  Too much trash that ends up floating in the water with you.  Occasionally you see human deposits floating in the water as well.  Makes me think there's much more in there than is obvious.  Eeeeeew....  There was also a four alarm fire on Wednesday at a sanitation plant off the Hudson River around 135th street, and in shutting things down to control the fire a not insignificant amount of unprocessed sewage was released into the river.  The Hudson, Harlem and East River all have warnings against swimming, kayaking or any other water activity until further notice.  A few beaches downstream received "recommendations" to not go in the water though officials stated it is not a mandate.  But the fire did not make any headline, even small, on the NYTimes website.  I heard about the fire and resultant water contamination through WNYC (local NPR station), but I have not seen it anywhere else, which is kind of creepy.

Instead of beaches I had been planning for the last two or three weeks to finally head up to the Hudson Highlands or Harriman State Park for my Sunday long run.  Tomorrow should only be 93 degrees or so, but once out of the urban heat island (what many refer to as a "heat dome") and into the forest such summer weather is remarkably more tolerable.  I need genuine climbs and descents (from 500 to 1200 feet above sea level), I need to be away from pavement and city smog, I need terrain that challenges you in a way that removes expectations other than to merely keep moving forward.  A dip in one of the lakes might be nice, depending on where I go.  Planning to use a hydration pack as well as a handheld water bottle, the electrolyte drink that actually works (rather than the used during the July 4th mess of a "race"), lots of goo and a couple of bars, bug spray, and a camera for show and tell.  Even just thinking about it now makes me happy.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Skin, and mocking Mango

Currently icing my legs on the couch watching the Women's World Cup final between US and Japan.  Let's hope the second half converts during the second half.

The elevator operator at work has nicknamed me The Gatorade Girl.  As part of my project hydration I will half it with water and attempt to consume 2 liters of the mix by lunch.  It was a somewhat stressful week.  Monday I presented an in-service on pathological tone for the purpose of educating the PT aides but with everyone from the therapy team in the audience.  Wednesday the professor who coordinates our affiliations (and is totally craaaazyyyy...) came for a site visit and unexpectedly threw in a hasty and confusing conversation regarding my last two affiliations, followed by a schedule of 14 patients while under supervision of the other PT since my instructor had a long and important appointment elsewhere.  Thursday and Friday were less intense, but by then I had a hard time getting enough sleep to make up the difference.  Finally got a little rest on Saturday. 

Today I felt good and decided to go long.  Over the GWB to the Long Path again, 3:11:23, just under 21 miles.  I meant to take my camera and take some shots to show-and-tell.  Got so caught up in food and water that I forgot.  Crappers.  Oh well, next time.  I used the hydration pack that was my prize from Bear Mountain, and it is a surprisingly nice piece.  It has a rudimentary waist strap that I don't need to use so there's nothing pressing on my stomach or cutting off my breathing, as happens with other hydration packs.  That's why I usually opt to carry a bottle for any distance, but there's only one option for refilling along the way (a gas station 5.5-6 miles from home) and I anticipated needing a lot of fluid.  Went through 1.5 liters of Gu Brew and 1 liter of a lemonade/water mix from the gas station.  Had to walk for two 5 minute periods, once because my abdominal muscles almost held onto a cramp and another after filling up at the gas station since I had just stopped sweating and knew I needed lots of intake without jarring my stomach.  Both walking stints were successful.  By 10 minutes into my cool-down half hour walk I was out of fluid again, but I'd ingested enough that it wasn't a worry.

It's never until the post-run shower that you discover what new areas of chafing occurred.  All the areas I slathered with Aquafore (armpits, inner thigh crease, where my sports bra meets my lower sternum) came out unscathed.  This time my sports bra decided to eat at my back, beneath one side of the T-strap and beneath the chest strap longitudinally.  May have been due to the hydration pack, though with that amount of time on the trail one can never really know.  But once the stream of water hits the rough patch, sonofabitch!  I took a picture so I could see the whole thing better, and while there's nothing inappropriately shot that would contraindicate my posting it here it just simply too gross from all the secondary pimples and such.  I think the camera viewer adds more color to highlight the red spots than is actually there, but ew.  Made me cringe.  School stress has shifted breakout locations depending on the time frame.  First the face and back of the neck.  Then last fall on the underside of my chin and across my deltoids (atop my shoulders and the start of my arms).  This summer it has been my back, particularly atop each of each shoulder blade and at the bra line.  Accentuated by the running and heat, I suppose.  Another bit of loveliness to add to the list.

Instead I will display Sadie's recent attempts to mock my schoolmate Katarina's cat Mango.  She got Mango from a shelter last summer after his front left leg was amputated secondary to getting hit by a car.  He's a lovely beast of a cat.  And gangsta.

Mango.  Low rider.  Gangsta.  'Sup, human.  [Photo by Katarina.]

Sadie is probably half the size of Mango.  She often emphasizes her point through the use of gravitational enhancement.  I snicker every time.

Sadie, au Mango 1.
Sadie, au Mango 2, this time adding her dainty flair.

 

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Sports spactatorship from afar. [updated now that I'm not tired]

Last Monday's effort in Van Cortlandt Park left me rather deflated for the rest of the week.  At points I'd feel fine only to bottom out later.  By this weekend numerous factors came into place, so that I don't feel so back.  I made it to bed and to sleep by 10pm, sometimes earlier.  I consciously made myself make food with lots of veggies.  The weather cooled off in the latter part of the week.  Nathan returned from his jaunt upstate (visiting mama and racing). Also this weekend was a couple of sporting events that got me super excited and inspired.

The first event was the Hardrock 100 mile ultra marathon in the San Juan mountains of Colorado.  The link is worth it to see the environment of the race.  The race is one large loop that starts and ends in Silverton, CO, and is based off route developed by miners back in the day.  In these one hundred miles comes 33,992 feet of climbing, 33,992 feet of descending, elevation ranging from 7,680 to 14,048 feet (most of it is above the tree line), and 13 aid stations before reaching the finish wherein you kiss the rock with the picture of a ram.  Runners are allotted 48 hours to complete the course.

Nathan and I followed via twitter feeds from iRunFar's website. The race started at 6am Mountain time on Friday.  Following a race like this means you wait for updates about who enters various aid stations and at what times.  You refresh the web page, then go back to what you were doing for anywhere from five minutes to an hour depending where they are in the race.  It's similar to supporting athletes in an Ironman Triathlon -- you entertain yourself between all the updates.  I did laundry, cleaned, worked on a presentation.  I'm the type of person who happily sits in front of the television to watch an entire marathon during the Olympics.  I have also sat glued to the TV for four hours at a time watching previous Tours de France.  I love my regional and vicarious American sports teams (Chiefs!  Patriots!  Celtics!), but endurance events make cells deep inside me buzz with excitement not duplicated by anything else.

I went through a phase of climbing a few years ago while taking a break from running.  I enjoyed it, but as time rolled on I got incredibly bored.  When belaying my climbing partner on the Shawangunk Ridge and would always grumble to myself that instead of feeding out/in rope for an hour and getting stuck on various routes because my forearms would give out I could have run loops around the climbing ridge and been a sweat ball of a happy girl.  Yes, distance was traveled vertically once routes were mastered, but this was 60 meters/hour versus 5-9 miles/hour on foot (depending on trail/road, uphill hike/downhill controlled fall).  The part I actually enjoyed and still miss was/is climbing roofs, meaning handholds on the ceiling which is parallel to the floor.  I had no patience for overhangs that required big power moves by the gorilla guys.  There is no cave around here that allows it so unfortunately it was only at the climbing gym, which probably also added to my willingness to let it go.  Ultimately, I have no patience for sprinting and no desire to race anything shorter than a 10k with real effort.  Similarly, these short passes (even 60m passes up a rock face) did not hold my attention.  Also, I got fed up with needing soooo much gear.  You need stuff for endurance running, since half the time you are semi- if not fully self sufficient, but that is limited to nutrition and safety basics.

So back to the race.  The winner this year, Julien Chorier of France, finished just after 9am Eastern time on Saturday morning in 25 hours 17 minutes, which gives him the third fastest time in the history of the race.  A top 10 finish is always worth recognition in an ultra (hell, finishing is always worth recognizing!), and the difference between 1st and 10th place is 7 hours 4 minutes.  Those who required longer than 30 hours were plagued by a hail-ridden thunderstorm part way through, causing runners to hide under whatever shelter they could for an hour or more.  Weather added to the demands of the course meant only 80 of 140 entrants finished.   

"Why does this sound appealing?!?" you may ask.  Well, there's something very unique about distance running in areas so pulled back from daily life.  Your physical abilities are tested to the max in an environment that asks nothing less.  And when the equation of you versus Mama Nature works... it is humbling, it is soothing, and there's nothing else like it.  You should only run if you want to, and that goes for running 1 mile as much as for running 100.  But if you like it, then the experience is the same regardless of the distance.  Someone on Flickr named btrimboli posted a set of photos from the race that are amazing.  I am nowhere near a race like that, and I don't pretend for even a milisecond.  Remove the weather factor and Hardrock is still one of the most difficult races that exist in the states, not to mention it is at major uber elevation.  Next year I could maximally hope for a 50 mile or 100k race, and even then it'd need to be below the tree line by some distance.  We'll see what breadth of training my last year in school allows.  I keep making lists of races that I'd love to run one day, but being a PT student doesn't afford you an income or time off.

The last few days I've pondered how professional marathon runners will race perhaps twice a year.  Most ultra marathon pros will run 4-10, depending on the person.  Granted I could definitely maintain higher mileage if I weren't on roads 2/3 of the time, but the difference is still interesting.  To me, at least....

Then Sunday came the women's World Cup quarterfinals where the US took out Brazil in a very dramatic match.  US was called offsides in instances where everyone was in a dead straight line with the ball, whereas Brazil made a goal off of being offsides by 4 or 5 feet that somehow went without a call.  A US defensewoman received a red card after a tackle that injured no one and should have only warranted a yellow card if anything.  That means US played a woman down for most of the game.  Another Brazilian goal was made off a penalty kick where the first kick was blocked but the ref called encroachment (the goalie cannot step forward from the baseline until the ball has been kicked) when replays showed that this barely occurred.  The US goalie was also given a yellow card for it (still not clear to me why) and Brazil was able to convert the second attempt, since any instance of encroachment means the penalty kick is reattempted.  In the last moments overtime, a Brazilian headed the ball and collided with no one, only to walk twenty feet while the game continued and then dramatically drop to the ground holding her head in a very Italian show of drama.  The medical team was immediately called, and they took her off the field on a stretcher while time ticked away.  Game on, but after the medical team took 4 steps off the field the Brazilian sat up, unbuckled herself and ran around field to re-enter the game 30 seconds later.  Blatant delay of time.  Stoppage time is made up in the end, but it stops the flow of the play much like icing the kicker in football.  The ref saw her come back on the field and said nothing of the poor sportsmanship.  Luckily US managed a cross shot and header that scored in the very last moments of stoppage time, I believe 122 minutes into the game.  Solo, US goalie, made the only block during the shoot out to lead the US women into the semifinals against France.

Was I excited??  Heck yes.  Another example of endurance, but this one in game form.  Why does the women's World Cup receive so little attention here in the states when our team is consistently ranked at the top, while the men's team is supremely lucky to make it into the second round (and promptly lose) but afforded coverage up the wazu?  Figures.  The feminist in me always is bothered by this.

In kitteh land, Merus's initial introduction as "the simpler one" may have been pre-emptive.  She is markedly coordinated, has a very good sense of spacial orientation, and she's the only one to figure out where the laser comes from.  She still does not know what the laser is or why it jumps from the pointer to the floor, and thus she will still chase the little bugger down as best as she can.  But when she tires she looks up at my hand with a distinctive look on her face, pondering the object that I wield.  So long as she still chases the thing then I don't mind.

Other items were on the list to discuss, but apparently today is not their day as I have forgotten what they are.  Off to bed.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Slosh-slosh-cramp-drip-melt-ugh-die.

And let's not forget the sputter-slog-slog-slog-sputter-spit-chug-chug-kerplop.  Today's fun run was brought to you by the letter B.  For bonk.

I know better than to push myself too hard in the heat, even when feeling decently acclimated, so I took it easy today during the first lap of the July 4th Marathon fun run held in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx.  The name is a little deceiving, as you can choose the length of your race and not many run an actual marathon.  The course is set up so that one lap is just over a 10k, two laps makes (close enough to) a half marathon (13.1), three laps makes 19.6 miles, and four laps makes (close enough to) a full marathon.  My goal was 3 laps, which is mileage consistent with the last month's long runs in the Palisades and on the Long Path.

Because this is a fun run, if you want to start early then you can.  Most people run one to two laps, so I didn't want to be one of few people slugging it out in the heat of the afternoon just because I wanted to go longer.  So instead of the official 9am start, I headed out at about 8:10.  It was great.  I had my comfortable pace, had my water intake regulated, and the whole route was nice and quiet and serene.  It rained yesterday and a little overnight, so there was still some clouds and fog keeping things cool, or at least relatively so.  I remembered the course, and all muddy patches were as I remembered.  The course was well marked and it seemed like things were on there way for a possible full marathon.

My slightly easy pace for the sake of going long ended up timing the completion of my first lap to coincide with the masses lining up for the official start.  I also needed a water refill, but didn't want to fight through the 300 or so people to get to it.  Figured I'd find one of the fountains later on.  I took the long way around the mini-bleachers and popped back out on the loop on the other side.  You don't worry about adding 10 seconds on to your time when you know you'll be out there for 3-4 hours.  I got about a mile or so in and sought water from the entrance of the golf range.  The actual fountain was more a collector of tree spores, and a staff member directed me just around the side of the building.  A groundsman helped me fill my bottle with a hose.  He was very nice, but I don't think he realized I was running a race and the clock was ticking.  "Come back any time, ma'am."  Twenty eight and I'm a ma'am?  Eesh.  Thought I do suppose I go to bed at 9:30 or 10 and get up at 5.  Whatever.

I needed to get back, because the main race had started and the 10k-ers had caught up to me.  You can tell the 10k runners because they never carry water with them and they have their eyes set dead ahead with a slightly manic look.  Why was I rushing though?  I had nearly two if not nearly three laps yet to go.  I made myself calm down, find my routine again, run my own race.  Everyone else was just beginning to get dots of perspiration on the back of their shirts, I was already dripping off the bottom hem and off of my ponytail.  Managed to keep my cool when those unfamiliar with single track would stop short or would pull up to half their pace on the downhills without letting others go by.  But, this being my second Holiday Marathon fun run, I was starting to get a feel for the nuances of the course.  The long lengths of flat ground became very apparent during that second lap.  When on hills, they were apparent and decently angled.  But the flats were a much greater component of this race, of which my guess is 2/3 of the course.  As I mentioned previously regarding the Brooklyn 1/2 Marathon, flat and I do not get along well.  Then came another short downhill with some rocks, causing the pack of manic-faced men in front of me to dodge back and forth (more for sake of keeping their shoes clean than to find a good through line, mind you).  One of them nudged me into an oddly shaped cutout in the hill.  While I was sure nothing was sprained, strained, twisted or bruised, I realized that the other runners were going rob me of the gentle mentality needed for long runs.  Meaning that I foresaw the wheels coming off for my own race.  Cue big sigh.

I got a ways further and managed to stay at my pace while letting the 10k grunters move on ahead.  Probably 2 or 3 miles left of the second lap at this point.  Realized I was getting thirsty between my drink-every-five-minutes rule, which is also not a good sign.  I haven't had any Gu Brew since Bear Mountain, the powder that makes an electrolyte drink that is insanely good for such conditions, and have instead been using my backup of Nuun tablets because of accessibility.  I kept the Nuun water on the thick side, but I realized that I was still sweating out too much.  In fact, I was sweating enough that my clothes were saturated and the sweat was running down my legs and collecting in my socks and shoes.  Not a good sign.  I downed another energy gel for some quick calories, and tried to relax.

The beginning and end of the loop is out in the open on the far side of a slew of soccer fields from the woods.  When in the woods the heat was present but not oppressive.  Once out in the open it was time for fried eggs on the sidewalk.  Crappers.  I finished lap two and got more water, wrung out my tank top and hung it off the back of my pants (there's no bag check available for a fun run), and headed off onto lap three.  The first mile felt like I was beating myself up, even though I was going slower than when in the woods.  By this lap the other racers were fewer in number and with much more pleasant temperament -- no more 10k-ers elbow jousting.  The world started to slow down.  Legs got heavy.  The Nuun water felt like it was running straight through me.  Somewhere amid yet another flat section I kept expecting to see Vanna White walk across the trail holding up the letter of the day.  I was bonking.  Meaning, the day was a bust.  If my electrolyte management is off, or (as I am realizing) if I don't have enough carbohydrates be it simple sugar goo or bread or whatever along with it, then certain portions of my abdominal muscles will cramp.  So went that too.

Heat: 1,352.  Me: 2.

Stats: 3 laps, 19.6 miles, 2:57:00, 83 degrees and rising, 54% humidity, 100% walking human puddle.  
Two former coworkers of mine were also planning on running, one in the 10k and the other for the 1/2 marathon.  I stayed for about 20 minutes after I was done to "cool off" (Hah!  Good luck with that one....), but I didn't see either of them.  I couldn't tolerate being there any longer, so I made the slow trod back to the subway, thankful for the air conditioning in the train cars to help my joints from blowing up during the 20 minute ride to 125th Street.  Luckily ridership was still low since most New Yorkers don't start their mornings until 10 or 11 a.m. and don't leave the house until 12 or 1 p.m.  I was still dripping, though it was all collecting down my backside and into a small puddle on my subway seat.  At that point I didn't trust my legs (or my head) to stand for the whole ride and survive the rocking.  I don't know if anyone noticed it when I got off at my stop, but take my word for it that a little sweat left on the seat is nothing compared to the oddities you'll see gracing the subways in NYC.  [WARNING!  The link may be too gross for some of you.  This man... well, let's say he is a gustatory learner and wanted to analyze his shoe....]   

Exhausted?  So am I!  It is 9:30 and rightly bed time for this "ma'am."  I will leave on a funny note, yielding to the endless entertainment of my kittehs.  If you have not yet seen it, Sadie was chasing flies the other day.  I'd embed the video here, but the edges get cut off and you may miss a paw or eyebrow flutter.  No warning needed for this video.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

More rambling.

Thank you to all who sent birthday wishes, cards and/or packages.  This includes Mom and Dad, Gramma/Grampa D., Grandma B. (who sends a whole cake!),  and Uncle Roger and Aunt Darla.  All lovingly received, and this time no problems with the post office or with incorrect addresses.  Little brother Sam asked "So do you feel and wiser?"  If you ask in terms of physical therapy then yes!  But in terms of life, well, I often still feel a mere sixteen year old.  Anyways, I may not be enthusiastic about celebrating my birthday, but I think of you all often and appreciate all your well wishes.

Nathan is running the Finger Lakes 50k today in the Syracuse area of upstate New York.  It is less hilly and rocky than Bear Mountain, so his time should improve so long as his left ankle behaves.  He twisted it once or twice during Bear Mountain without more than a grade I sprain, but the two months since then have been much more lackluster than he'd have hoped.  Nathan is originally from Auburn, NY, and his mom and older sister still live there.  Kind of fun that his mom gets to see him run today, just like my ma and pa will get to see me run in August.  The race sounds beautiful, two laps around the lake to total 31 miles.  My guess for him is 5 hours 45 minutes should his ankle hold out, or 6 hours 30 minutes if it acts up.  At the time of this post add-on, he'll have been out there for 3 hours 15 minutes.  Too bad this race doesn't have any live updates.  But then again, I think having less pressure with a lower profile race will be good for him.  Just keep moving! 

One running blog I follow is that of James Adams, the lone Brit and one of few english speakers from the Los Angeles to New York Footrace that covers 3220 miles in 70 days.  A few days ago they finally left the desert of Nevada and entered semi-mountainous areas of northern Arizona.  I'm not particularly interested in running a race such as this, but I do find their efforts inspiring.  They are also in a part of the country which has peaked my interest for life after school.  Not that they are running through lots of areas -- they stick to highways/roads that are not major interstates but still travel rather straight.  Were they to weave back and forth around mountains in Utah and Colorado then an appreciable amount of miles would be added to the task.  I'm eager to hear reports of New Mexico. 

As for my own running, my body has finally figured out how to regulate summer temperatures, including when I run in the morning.  I sweat like I got caught in the rain, sometimes as if it were raining on me and only me, but I no longer suffer from an invisible wool onesie.  The main obstacle I have now is common for me during summers -- developing a genuine desire to eat.  My body shuts off its desire for more food after two meals, regardless of when those meals are had.  I could eat breakfast of one serving of oatmeal (1/2 cup dry) with some fruit and honey at 5:00 am, and by my lunch break at 12:00 or 1:00 pm a sandwich sounds too heavy and unappealing so I'll opt for yogurt, dry cereal, and a deli container of watermelon.  Weird.  Then when I get home at 6:00, I'll only muster the stomach want for something like sliced tomatoes and cucumbers with a little salt and olive oil drizzled over top.  Double weird.  Ice cream still has its full place, probably because it is cold and my running mileage wants the fat and the calories.  I've made myself eat more during lunch and dinner the last few days because I know I cannot operate on so little food.  Once I start eating then things are fine, its just getting my body to admit that it is hungry that's the problem.  There's some disconnect between brain and stomach stemming from a reliance on too large a proportion of simple sugars (hello, ice cream!) during the stressful spring semester.  My body doesn't want those foods now that its summer and hot, so it just says "no food please" because it forgets what other good stuff could be had.  Last night was successful with a full dinner of grilled veggie club sandwich, green salad with basil vinegarette and baked 4 cheese macaroni from a local home-style place named Kitchenette. 

[My roommates just got up, and Mike, the med student, brought his study materials to the living room to read while having his coffee.  Two minutes after sitting down he started to pet Sadie, only for his eyes to shut with his hand resting on her belly.  Super cute.]

Thinking back again to New Mexico, I know that next summer is a year away, and yet I can already sense change.  One year from today is the first opportunity I'll have to take the Boards.  I'll be looking for a job in a new state.  And I'm trying to come to terms with needing to get a vehicle again.  I want to live within 4-6 miles of work and lives necessities, and ideally just as close (if not closer) to local trails.  Ideal?  Yes.  Realistic?  We'll see, but I think the distance from work part is feasible.  Mainly I want a reduced reliance on a car and continued use of walking/riding to commute.  Were I intending to stay in NYC then I'd want something small and nimble like the Mini Cooper but more realistic, probably Volvo-like model with actual ability to carry more than just the driver and one passenger.  Something similar would likely suite Seattle, but that depends on the types of excursions I foresee.  I'm thinking of my intent to live near the mountains when I say this.  And if I land in Colorado then I'd need four wheel drive.  I am also looking forward to owning my own washer and dryer, having a gear room for my bikes and outdoor stuff, and having windows all around the house.  A house!  Oh my.  Simmer down, self, a year is a long time off.  And yet it isn't....

Thursday's morning run was hill repeats with a hippie soundtrack, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros' "Jangling."  One of the aides at the clinic started off Wednesday with hipsters before pulling out Jock Jamz once patients arrived.  I forget her name, but woman wearing the gray tee shirt in front cracks me up every time. 

Friday, July 1, 2011

Duh.

The origin of the blog's title has drawn inquiries from a few, including my soon to be sister in-law (yay!) Kristin.  It is somewhat of an interesting story. 

Not everyone knows, or believes, my history of stupid mistakes.  Falling up three stairs followed by falling down four for a net loss of one step.  The never-fostered math geek in me giddy to reflexively yell out in answer to the square root of 144 before others opened their mouths, but without realizing I was thus nominating myself for trash duty at work.  Unintentionally swapping the first sound of two words important to a sentence so that I end up saying something completely inappropriate, like when I instructed my yoga students to "lower your belly over your twigh and move into your thist."

There are two friends historically who were, and at times still are, the main people to hear of my debacles even if not originally witness such great transpiration.   Two apartments and two and a half year ago the coffee maker was a fancy Pavoni espresso press.  In fact, much of that kitchen was of the same syndrome: "They all get the job done, so I'll take the best."  Espresso machines require highly pressurized heated water that gets clamp-pressed through tightly packed coffee grounds.

When I got downstairs I noticed the steam was escaping through its usual leaky spot indicated a recent brewing -- coffee without waiting for it to warm up?  Nice.  But the water gauge showed too little for once press, I had to refill things first.  Despite having refilled the machine numerous times, this time I forgot to depressurize (via the milk frother, the long, thin silver extension pointing down in the example picture) and immediately unscrewed the water reservoir's cap.  Duh.

I still had a couple of turns to go when the water pressure found a convenient escape, and by unscrewing that last bit for me it also spun the dorsum of my thenar eminance (the back of my thumb/web space) down towards the upwardly expanding boiling water.  The cap blew to the ceiling,  water went everywhere, and I ended up with a doozie of a steam burn on my hand:

Two days after...
I text these aforementioned friends with a picture text exclaiming "Another blonde moment of genius.  What a way to start a morning."  Friend A blew up my phone with first aid instructions since he knew I was delaying the process in lieu of "Whoa!  Dude!  Look at the blister size now!" kind of dumb stuff.  Friend B simply laughed and said "Well, at least you now have the title of you memoir."