Gettin Jiggy With It

Mother of God. [Speaking of, RIP Ted Kennedy.  I watched the ceremony, Ted Jr's eulogy was beautiful.] Fif.Teen. Miles.  Ughhhhhh.  That was roughly my reaction at approx 13 miles.  To be quite frank, I don't really remember the last three miles.  I just know I somehow managed to find my way home.  Where the G2 and carbohydrates are plentiful.

I did yoga this morning at the gym, which I haven't had the opportunity to do in weeks.  It was glorious, I was feeling fabulously stretched.  I came home, hydrated and had a hearty breakfast.  [During this time I watched Teddy's service.  Beautiful.  Although, G Dubs, could you wipe the smirk off your face for I don't know, 34 seconds?  It's a funeral for God's sake.]

Then I set off on my run.  The plan was to do two loops, an 8 mile, pause at home, then a 7 mile.  It worked out fabulously.  The eight mile was fantastic, I once again had the opportunity to run around the stadiums, which always makes me happy, even though there weren't any tailgaters for the Steelers game yet.  As I was at mile ohhhh 7.2., right around the Allegheny County Jail, I felt a twinge in my ass.  All of a sudden, my right buttock just gave out on me.  Just no more.  Sorry Sarah, you wanted to run more today? Nope, not happening.  I knew exactly what I needed to do to stretch it out, but it wasn't really feasible IN FRONT OF INMATES.  So I just rubbed my butt (again, not an ideal situation) and just kinda did a shorter stride the rest of the way home.  

I came home, paced the kitchen (gotta keep moving!) as I ate a banana and drank some G2.  Then I did some yoga poses (God help me if I have to do this along the side of the marathon), went to the bathroom, changed (yes I sweat through outfit #1 and had to go to outfit #2.  gross) and set out for loop #2.  

Loop #2 wanted to kill me.  It sought me out and tried to physically murder me.  It was hotter, it was more humid, my buttock was still not pleased and I started to wish that I had a bottle of water maybe 2 miles in.  But I perservered.  I kept on going, and yes, I may have had to take a few 30 second speed walking breaks, but I'll probably need to do that during the marathon in order to stop at the aid stations.  And I finished.  That's all that matters. 

Oh and I did an ice bath afterwards.  My initial reaction was oh sweet jesus I can't decide what was worse the run, or the ice bath.  After 2 minutes, it was heaven.  If I could turn my bed into an ice bath, I probably would.  Minus the whole issue of a lower pulse.  That could be a potential problem. 

The title of the post references my newfound love of 90s pop music while running.  Will Smith -- today you may be a serious actor, but damn you were also so good at cheesy rap back in the day.  'N Sync - Pop -- oh to be young and naive again.  Back in the days before 9/11 and when Lance was still dating women.  Spice Girls - Wannabe -- I'll tell whatcha want what I really really want --- it's to finish this damn marathon.  

I am a tourist attraction

Now as I was typing this title I immediately thought of the Sex and the City Episode when Samantha sleeps with Charlotte's brother Wesley. Charlotte freaks out (as any girl would if her bff fucked her brother) and says "Is your vagina in the New York City guidebooks? Because it should be - it's the hottest spot in town, it's always open!" (sorry I tried to find a clip but I am technologically challenged and don't care enough to google around).

Anyway, as I'm sure you (and the photographer) will be happy to hear I am not a tourist attraction for my promiscuity. Although co-blogger Sarsh and I have been toying with the idea of opening our own prostitution business to earn some extra cash. I actually want to get paid to lay in bed, cuddle and maybe let someone feed me some fruit or something, but I mean times are tough so if I have to put out I guess that could be arranged. Anyway this is a pipe dream that would allow me to actually pay my bills, so clearly it just isn't in the cards for now. No worries I will stay un-hookerish and underpaid for the the forseeable future.

But again, I digress.

So here is the story that is so not worth reading through all of the ramblings above. Today on my run I got a shout out from a duck tour. hahah I was running near the Common between Beacon and Com Ave. and the tour guide screams "Look it's the last runner finishing up the marathon" haha I was so thrilled for being mistaken for a marathon runner that I soaked it all in smiled, waved and pos had my photo taken (at least I hope). Yes I realize that he was probs poking fun at my slow pace by suggesting it has taken me 4 months to finish the race, but f it. I was on an 11 mile run and got the ultimate shout out from an amphibious tour vehicle and I was on cloud nine.

The rest of the run went OK. I saw the BU kids moving in. God, I was jealous of their shining faces, slightly awkward exchanges, "I'm-trying-to-impress-you-while-showing-my-individuality"outfits and of course the landyard. I felt the urge to scream "freshman" but I figured that would just be answered with, "sweaty, old broad" so I kept my comments to myself.

My tummy did hurt at the end and I think I am slowly learning that I can't eat hard-to-digest food before a long run, plus I think I need to stop popping pain pills. It's fine though because I have 7 weeks 1 day 10 hours and 13 mins to figure it out before I throw up all over Newport.

OK this local Boston celeb is out for now...

....oooI wonder if a photo of me running could land in the Inside Track next to Tom and Gisele. Something like "check out Gi's baby bump, sweet, now let's compare it to this runner chick's fat rolls"

Maybe I should start pitching myself. :)

Runs and Run-Ins

Pittsburgh is essentially a small town spread out over three rivers.   This is good when plotting out runs, because you're never really that far away from home, should disaster strike.  This is a negative when seeing everyone you went to middle school with along the way, as you're wiping up your sweat with your wifebeater.

On a positive note, I would like to thank the low pressure system that has moved into the area, turning this week's 85 degree temps into PURE JOY compared to last week's 90 degrees/97 % humidity.  This was the first run I've had in a while that I haven't felt like I'm breathing through a straw, and it definitely showed, as I was able to run 7.5 miles without struggling.  

I also had the opportunity to do one of my favorite things, which is run around the stadiums during baseball games.  The college kids are back in town, and they were out in full force tonight, throwing up high fives as I ran by and even running alongside me for a moment or two.  God  I love drunk college kids.  

Here's hoping the rest of the runs for the week go as well, if not better.  I need a good, strong, long run this weekend.  Fingers crossed!

Dear Boston, I love you.

Everyone knows Syracuse is my one true love, but today, dear city, Boston gave you a "run" for your money.

Fourteen miles. It takes you pretty far. It's longer than my commute for a whole week. And these 14 glorious miles gave me a sneak peak of some of Boston's best. I ran down by all the colleges: Northeastern, Simmons, Wentworth, Mass Art, MIT, Harvard. My path was lit by the lights of the Pru. I crossed the river (twice). I ran all along the Common. I picked out the Brownstones on Beacon that I hope to live in one day. I saw tourists, homeless people, policemen, movers and residents alike. Zoomed by the State House and even got to run by the bars all abuzz on a Friday night.

It felt amazing. I felt amazing. I've never been so proud (or sore) in my entire life. Plus the city of Boston provided me with my own little cheering section. The guy in his car on the corner of Tremont and Beacon, "hey, you're hott." The man on Columbus "Good running girl." The man on the MIT bridge "keep running, your doing great." Group of boys on Com Ave number one "hey, you're really cute". Group of boys on Com Ave number two "hey, you're a great runner". My favorite convenience store man who knows I'm training "looks like you ran through a shower how you doing?" Man behind me in line at said convenience store "hey how long did you run" Me "14 miles" Man "omg you ran 14 miles TONIGHT. Wow, Woah."

So this is what it feels like to do more than half of a marathon. I am giddy - smiling despite the fact that I legitimately cannot move my legs (they actually burned when I got home and now are just full of lead). Plus I have hardcore chafing on my chest from my sports bra - damn you 70% humidity. But all in all it was amazing. I fell in love with my city, saw the peaceful side of a busy city at night and am finally starting to feel a little confident in my running.

Yay! Now off to listen to party in the USA on repeat - that Miley gets me every time!

This is War

On humidity.  I am trying my best to avoid the mugginess, but it is following me everywhere I go.  In my last post I discussed my plan to wake up before the sun and squeeze in a run before work.  Let's discuss that.  I was up and at 'em at 4:30 a.m., ate a banana, packed everything for work and was out the door by 4:55.  Did my weights/abs at the gym, things are going great.  

I step outside at 5:25, so motivated to have a good run.  I was sweating before my legs moved.  Fact: 73 with 97 percent humidity is miserable.  Which was the actual temperature/humidity level.  I don't pull these figures from my ass, kids.  So whatever, I take off down the street, still pretty excited that I'm going to have a workout in before work.  Only it was trash day for the street I was running down, so thanks to the 24/7 humidity we have going on, I was not only running through the ozone layer, I was running through a giant garbage can.  I was forced to adopt a "in through the mouth, out through the mouth" [I feel like there's a TWSS in there somewhere] breathing technique, which my lungs were not pleased with.  Long story short, I was drenched in sweat and rather disgusting by the time I made it back to the gym to shower.  Oh and don't worry, the sun still wasn't up by that point.

Then, Mother Nature played a cruel trick on me.  It rained in the late afternoon, and by the time I was walking home at 5:30 p.m., it was a cool and delightful 70 degrees.  I seriously considered going for a second run, but decided that would cross into the exercise bulimia category.

Today I was determined to tackle this problem head on.  [sidenote: Head-On, as in "apply directly to the forehead" is a product that co-blogger Ange had senior year.  She was convinced it would cure her various ailments, but really, it just left a...let's say, inappropriate looking film on her forehead.]  I was ready and willing to do a pre-work workout, but if the Channel 4 weather team said it was going to mimic yesterday's weather pattern, I would wait for the afternoon showers to cool everything off.  

So I wake up, eagerly awaiting the forecast, Erin Kienzle says "well it is muggy out," and that's all I needed to hear for my head to hit the pillow again.  Things were looking up, afternoon showers weren't as persistent as yesterday, but hey there was still time.  Cut to 7:30 p.m.

The cool down rain I was hoping for never happened, but 7:30 is the absolute latest I can start a run before I'm forced to play a game called "Run for Your Life."  But the skies were dark and gloomy, so I was hopeful that I would get caught in the cool down rain, which would be a win-win situation.   I set off on my run through the ozone, and with every step I thought to myself "please rain please rain please rain please rain just a little c'mon please rain please rain."  And then it did.  For roughly 50 seconds.  Just enough to cause a steam to form on the hot sidewalk.  So now in addition to the previously established humidity, I have steam rising up and hitting my calves, it's actually hard to breathe because the air is so thick, and the rain never returned, despite the clouds that forced darkness to hit the city 30 minutes early.  I'm fairly confident I was propositioned to establish a new career by the jail, but thanks to RFYL I made it out A-OK.  

So please Mother Nature, I beg of you, send a low pressure zone our way.

Schizo

Oh heyyyy.  My apologies, I have completely dropped off the face of the earth.  I blame it on my lack of exciting running news, or rather lack of running news that makes me look good.  Allow me to explain.

The weather in Pittsburgh this summer could best be described as schizophrenic.  It has been so chilly that when Ange and Liz visited, I could have worn a peacoat to dinner and been quite content with my life.  Then there have been the last two weeks.  In the words of Elaine Benes, "the heat..my God the heat."

[I spent 20 minutes trying to embed the video for everyone's convenience.  Clearly it didn't pan out.  And my tech support is in China.  Lo siento.]

So the heat.  Pittsburgh does not do dry heat.  When we do heat, we do 60 percent humidity with a touch of air pollution, turning a 2 block walk to the bus stop at 7 a.m. into a deodorant testing experiment.  Needless to say, my evening runs haven't even been possible the last week.

Hence, I'm trying something new for the next week and a half, thanks to the 10 day forecast predicting no end in sight.  Working out in the morning.  I've done it a few times in the past, but normally just if I have evening activities planned that would prevent me from working out at night.  I think the reason I associate the morning workouts with such annoyance is because I wouldn't do consistent morning workouts.  I would do them once a week, be so annoyed and go back to the evening workouts, where I go to bed much later and wake up later, never allowing my sleep schedule to recover.

So here's the plan: wake up: 430 am. Be at the gym at 5 am.  Weights/abs for 20-30 min.  Run for an hour.  Catch the 7:30 bus.  I'll keep you posted on how this goes.  But at this point, I'm willing to try pretty much anything to avoid the misery of being outside in the heat of the day.   And wow. It's already my bedtime. 

I heart my daddy

When I was a little girl I was not allowed to be sick. Sickness shows weakness. Most "illnesses" are "all in your head" so if you say that you are sick you will be and if you suck it up and get on with your life you will feel better. Coddling was not on the menu in the Maglione household, and although this may have caused some issues for my health in the past, today is one of the many, many times that I thank my lucky stars that my daddy was a crazy Italian man.

Yesterday I was dead. Tired, stuffy, night sweats, headaches, and semi dillusional. I woke up with a similar feeling after 10-11 hrs of sleep. I had an awful voice reminiscent of Pheobe's "sexy sick voice" on Friends, had a runny nose, a sinus headache and I could barely stand. A normal person would call that sick, I call it "not on my A game." I spent the morning feeling less than stellar, again not "sick" but not my fabulous self. I chugged water and finally decided that I needed drugs (although illness was not allowed in our house medicine was always welcome as long as you took it and got on with your life). I told my boss that I needed to go on a drug run, offered to pick up stuff for lunch and escaped to Osco with a perscription for OTC Sudafed from Dr Meg (aka my roommate who serves as my medical bully and makes me see doctors as well as my webmd offering fun tips for how to get better when I'm in denial). She urged me to get "the stuff behind the counter that you make meth with." One signature, 2 identification checks and a swipe of my debit card later I was on my way to glory. I completely bounced back. It was amazing. Now some may say it was the drugs, and yes I will tip my hat to the Sudafed, but I also think most of it was my determination that I was well, that I felt fine and that I could bounce back.

So that is my anecdote - thank you daddy for making my crazy. And thank you Meg for teaching me how to self medicate.

Anyway this blog is about RUNNING so here we go. After epic fail, break-my-heart and want-to-die Friday I took two days off. I was crushed. My spirit was broken and I was on the verge of breaking down. But today I fixed it. After the all time greatest comeback I ran 8 beautiful miles. Gloriously, fabulous miles. I felt amazing, stopped for water between mile 6 and 7 and even came home and did Power 90 Sculpt to work my arms and legs. And I made up my own ab work out.

Amazing. I could not be happier. But E.F.B.M.H.A.W.T.D Friday taught me something. Lately I have been "fitting in" my runs. Jam packing them in between social events, work stuff and nights out. Legit Friday's had become work til 1, run as soon as I can, die a little, eat a little, rush to get ready and go out. I can't do that anymore. E.F.B.M.H.A.W.T.D Friday taught me that my run needs to come first if I want this to happen. If i want to do well. I need to eat less junk, drink less booze, and stop considering my run as "something to fit in." It has to be the main event. For these next few months everything has to come after the run.

So friends, family, co-workers, photographers, take this as your warning and my apology in advance. I am going to suck. You are going to want to scream, and get mad bc I will be so goddamn mia and awful. But after October 18 I will try to make it up to you. I'll bake cupcakes, spend weekends in other states, stay late at the office, return your phone calls. Whatever it takes, just bare with me through all of this and know that you are still and important part of my life (Note as I was editing I noticed that I had subsituted life with run...oh freudian slips), but right now I have hills to take on, miles to conquer and bottles of water to drink.

OK I have been going on forever, this is the longest post in the world and very little of it is entertaining.

Good night!

Well some say life will beat you down, break your heart and steal your crown

I'm learning to die, around the clouds, what goes up must come down.

So clearly I had a good run. And by "good" I mean the most awful experience ever.

What's worse is that I have no excuse. Like sure it was hot. I ran at 4pm, which I feel is sometimes hotter bc the pavement absorbs the sun's rays all day. Plus the sun forced me to squint. And I ran up some HUGE hills - like so steep that I don't think my car could power up them in the winter or in the summer if I ever decided to transport dead bodies in my trunk or a group of fat people in my back seat (wow morbid/mean I'm sick take pity on me) Finally, I was dehydrated (really dehydrated) - I was down 3lbs after chugging a whole g2 and a muscle milk plus my pee was the color of my Alma Mater (overshare, again take pity on me I'm sick). But none of this is a good enough reason to give up. And that's what I did.

I set out to do 12 miles. Around 4.5 miles I NEEDED a water. I stopped at a gelato place in Newton and purchased a bottle of water (it was that or a taco bell). Then I powered on and hit the mother of all hills. Like if the Hulk and Zeus had a hill child, this would be it. Near the top of the hill I walked a little and then shook myself out of it, threw down my water (oops litter) and powered through.

Around an hour into the run I tried to rid my head of the negative self talk. Instead of "god, you suck. How could you let the hill beat you? How could you give in to hydration so soon" I tried to think "half way done. new run, fresh runner, you are hydrated, more so than you usually are at this point, power through, chocolatey-non-milk goodness waiting for you, go go go."

The pep talk worked for a little, but then I hit my next hill and the next thing I knew I was walking. Why? I don't know. I just was. I had given up. I have no excuses, I broke the rules and did not play like a champion. I drew attention to myself in a negative way. I was that sweaty panting "walker." In my mind walkers who look like I did are pathetic. Instead I should have drawn attention to myself, but on my own terms. Like "hey look at that runner run, you go girl, power up that hill."

But alas I failed. I am sick to my stomach, blogging in my underwear in my bed trying to muster up the energy to take another shower, do my hair and be a proper hostess to my friend Stacy who is visiting from out of town.

So I'm gonna try to do that... or at the very least put on a top.

FML

Ange

"Maybe Running Just Isn't Your Sport"

If you read my twitter you may be confused. Today I ran 11 miles and it felt great. So why the title? Well that is a quote from my boss, who said it in reference to some of my recent illnesses. As in "maybe you are having severe stomach problems due to the running." My internal response was "maybe the fact that you stress me out to the point that I can barely function causes my stomach to boycott life" my external response was "no way, I love running. It completes me."

So there you go running is the Renee Zellweger to my Jerry Maguire and today was a fabulous example of that. 11 miles! I was nervous (as you can tell from the post below), but thanks to some old fashioned ppt time and pre-run Rolaids I am feeling great. Tired (I got home about 35 min ago) but great. So much, in fact, that I felt the need to blog.

And that brings us back to this post. I never do this, but I want to talk about a new product I tried recently and have taken a liking to - muscle milk. Now I saw this on a few different running blogs as a great recovery drink, so I thought I'd check it out on my own. I figured that maybe if I can drink my post-run meal it will hurt my tummy less and it totally works. I just finished the chocolate version (I have also tried light chocolate - which I prefer) and I am slowly feeling like a person again. The key is to make sure it is REALLY COLD and VERY WELL SHAKEN. Do this and it tastes like a frappe of sorts, but with 20-25g of protein and lots of other crap that is supposta be good for you. Yay I love gimmicks and advertising. Anyway if you are looking for something to have after a long run (very long bc it does have a lot of calories - the regular is like 230 and light is like 160 or 180, I forget)I suggest the milk.

BUT, be aware - buying this may cause you to get some weird reactions. When I bought my first bottle the other day the check out girl looked me up and down and was like "what girl, you a body builder??" bare in mind that I am an extremely weak girl...I can barely lift anything over 10 lbs (seriously, ask my roommates it's pathetic) so clearly I look NOTHING like a body builder. Not knowing what to say I just explained that I am training for a marathon and needed something for post-run recovery. The girl then reply "A marathon?!?! Girl, you crazy. My boyfriend is training too, for the Marines, and he runs all over the city. He made me run around Allston the other day and it was hotttt, dammmnnn I told him never again, never, never again...Girl, good luck." I could tell she wanted me to be impressed with her running 2 miles in Allston and side with her that it was awful of her boyfriend to make her do that (mind you, I inflicted a similar fate on my photographer, so I have very little sympathy). Therefore, I just said, "Yea, it's not easy running in the sun, you tell him that you won't be joining him again. haha hehe haha" She replied "Girl you know it! Good luck with your running and stuff." Thanks lady, thank you.

Ok time to shower away the city.

Ange’s Angst

I haven’t blogged in days, weeks, it feels like months. I’m not sure why. I have started a few posts, thought up topics for a few posts, even vowed to Sarah and others that I would post. But something has stopped me.

Lately I have been freaking out about the marathon. I realize I’m going through a little self-doubt phase in a few aspects of my life – work, running, etc. It made me afraid to blog, and kinda afraid to jog (haha sorry I love rhymes).

I have been running of course. Staying on schedule, getting in the miles anyway I can. Mornings, evenings, even late night. I’m back on my ibuprofen regiment – aka popping pills to get by. I’m even trying to do a few crunches post-run to work on my core. Last night I was on runnersworld.com looking up yoga poses for my back and hips. But something in the back of my head is making me freak out. I get nervous, not excited for runs. Like, “oh shit, what will happen today? Will I get too hot? Will my back give out? Will that man in a mini-van follow me?” (I don’t know why but it’s always the men in a mini-van that freak me out – it just seems unnatural, like no boy wakes up saying, ‘honey I wants me a mini-van – Let’s caravan up!).

Anyway, today is my rest day so I have some time to regroup. I am going to have lots of water and g2, stretch and get ready for my 10-11 miler on Friday afternoon. But mostly I am going to get excited for my run. I am going to use today for P.P.T. (Personal Prep Time). I used to make my field hockey team do this before every game – they hated it; I loved it. We set goals for our selves and our team, visualized, and essential gave ourselves peptalks.

So I am going to end with a little pep up of my own:
I am a runner. I run far and I run fast. I keep going. Nothing can stop me. I LOVE RUNNING. I love the wind in my face, I love passing people, I love running clothes, I love hills, I love downhill, I love singing aloud on the street and I love that I don’t care that I sing. I love the sights I see, the people I pass, the feeling I get when I’m running, and when I’m done running.

OK I’m a freak – so see the ball, be the ball and score!

Humbling

So judging by my last two posts, you would think that it's become all rainbows and butterflies during my runs.  Unfortunately. no.  Today was a   r u n.  I'm tired thinking about it.  I mean, it makes sense that it was hard.  I ran 12 miles two days ago and 6 today, along with doing weight training Sunday and today, so my legs probably should have felt like lead when I was attempting to run uphill.  

So I was almost done with my run and thanking my lucky stars that I had somehow made six miles happen today, and then I started doing some simple arithmetic.  

12 miles [two days ago] + 6 miles [today] does not = 26.2 in one day. 

Oh boy.  We've got a long way to go.   

Thumbs Up

I had really high hopes for this post.  The following paragraph or two will only really make sense to How I Met Your Mother fans, or those with a lot of time on their hands who can spend a lot of time googling.  If you are neither, scroll down.

So the way I felt after my long (longest ever!) run yesterday could best be summed up by the scene at the end of the "Right Place, Right Time" episode this season.  I wanted to run down the street and hug and high-five every single person I saw (I have been scouring the internet for half an hour looking for this clip and can't find it.  Damn copyright laws).  

I loved everything about this run.  If I could duplicate the conditions and the way I felt for the marathon, I would.  I started out early Sunday morning before the streets were crowded and before it was too humid.  There was an occasional light rain that cooled me off but was never severe enough to make me look like I was participating in a wet t-shirt contest.  I stopped for water at just the right time and was able to pause occasionally to sip but never felt dehydrated or like water was sloshing around in my stomach.  Perhaps most importantly, I was able to run 12.2 miles and did not collapse while doing so (or afterwards).  

By the time I was re-entering my neighborhood and in the home stretch, I'm pretty confident I looked insane.  My face was beet red, as I tend to severely flush in my face while working out, my clothes were damp from running around in the rain for a little over 2 hours and I was breathing hard like I was waiting for a decoy making lemonade on "To Catch a Predator."  But I couldn't have cared less.  I was so satisfied with my run and so pleased with my efforts.  And after all, what did the people heading to brunch do before noon on Sunday?  They sure as hell didn't run 12 miles.