Running with the BOB and Putting Race Plans on Hold

I’ve been eagerly awaiting the moment when Bo was big enough to sit up in the jog stroller. This weekend brought a surprise warm streak – 60 degree days in December – so Matt suggested we test it out. When I first got the BOB, I read on the website that they recommended you wait until they are 7-8 months old. I was shocked you’d have to wait that long and then super disappointed that it would be so long before I’d be out running again. (Of course I could run without him, but I knew I’d be much more likely to find the time to exercise if I wasn’t also having to work around Matt’s schedule too.) Then I read on a number of running forums that people were using them much sooner, basically as soon as their babies had good neck control. Bo’s always had surprisingly good neck control and by now, he’s sitting up (supported) so we figured we were good for a test run. (Literally.)

I was so glad Matt went with me on my first run. Pushing that stroller with a 16 pound baby in it is no joke – especially when you haven’t run in about 25 weeks. Although, in all fairness to myself my last run was at 28 weeks so I was lugging an extra 25-ish pounds at that point too. Anyways! The point is, I’m out of shape. And out of shape plus pushing a heavy contraption with a child inside makes for a seriously tough workout. (Anytime I see someone pushing a double BOB now I want to stop my car, hop out and high five them. Whoa, momma.) But the good news was that even though I felt like my heart was going to leapfrog out of my throat, Bo was extremely content and comfortable in his little seat watching the world go by.

Since then, we’ve gone on a number of short runs together and I’ve actually found it’s a great activity for dreaded and inevitable 5pm witching hour. Also known as whine/wine hour in this house. Even if he’s crying a little while I’m strapping him in the seat, as soon as the wheels start turning he’s quiet and content. Never would have expected “stop baby from crying” would top my list of motivational reasons to exercise, but there you have it.

Of course, as soon as I got a few runs under my belt I started scheming. Could I run a 5k with a stroller? A 10k? Could I train for a half with a stroller and then go run it without and actually clock in a time that wouldn’t be confused for an almost walking pace? I’ve got the race bug again and I’ve got it bad. Problem is, that lovely warm streak we had the first two weeks in December has disappeared. I don’t like running in cold weather – I’m a big giant wuss – but I also don’t think I can bundle Bo up and go for a dash with the wind whipping his little cheeks. The BOB is pretty tricked out, but they forgot to install seat heaters.

So for now, I’m putting my race-again-someday dreams on temporary pause and sticking to the elliptical in our bonus room as my preferred method of burning off the last of the baby weight. I can still hang out with my little guy without worrying that those giant cheeks of his will be rosy from windburn.

But watch out… come spring, I’m going to be tearing up the sidewalks with my running buddy. Let’s just hope he doesn’t double his body weight again over the next four months.

Nashville Country Music Half Marathon {Spectator Perspective}

Drive 440 miles.  Run (or watch your friends run) 13 miles.  Drive another 440 miles.

When you describe it like that...

Yea, it actually is kind of crazy.  But amazingly, when you're with good friends something as crazy as driving 14 hours road trip to run 13 miles does actually become fun.  Or in my case, watching good friends run the 13 miles - even MORE fun.

Somewhere around Christmas both Matt and Anne got it in their heads they wanted to run a half marathon. Anne picked out the Nashville Country Music Half - proclaiming she needed music at every mile to keep her motivated - and Matt decided while we were visiting Nashville at Christmas that that one would suit him too.  Soon after, Locke signed up, our friends Rick and Stephanie joined in, then Anne convinced her sister Jane and boyfriend Nick to join.  A few weeks later, I convinced Heather - who had told me one of her 2012 goals was to run a half marathon - to sign up for this one and she got her friend Anna on board.  THEN I learned one of my high school besties, Tamara, was running it too.

I had my hands full as super fan - that's 10 runners if you don't feel like counting.  I've never been to a half as a spectator before and it was a really cool experience.  I was glad I'm enough of a compulsive planner that I had mapped out ahead of time where I was going to park and wait for the runners, because I had picked out a spot that allowed me to get to see everyone at mile 3 and then walk about 5 minutes to get to mile 10.  My mom was a huge help by watching their chip times from the computer at home and texting me when to expect people so I could know when to look - because I totally underestimated what 35,000 runners streaming by would like look.  (Hint: a tidal wave of sweaty, grimacing faces.)

I couldn't believe every time I actually found one of my runners in that mess but I was so proud to see each one go by!  My parents have always been loyal spectators to my events - even driving down from Baltimore to surprise me and Jamie when we ran our half and my Dad jumped in for a few minutes at mile 11 with me - and I felt like I got to "pay it forward" a little bit by being there on the sidewalk for all my runners.

Pre-race 6 am smiles: Locke, Jane, Nick, Anne & Matt

My friend Tamara sent me this video her Dad took – he was filming sporadically throughout the run and I literally was standing at mile 10 and went “who is this guy running backwards filming?” before my brain immediately clicked in and recognized him – as my best friend from high school’s Dad!  I keep laughing when I watch this video because right around 30 seconds my little voice in the wind is yelling “Tamaaaara!” and we saw each other for approximately 10 seconds but it was a joyful 10 second reunion!

They all did so amazing. For everyone but Rick, it was their FIRST half marathon!  And it was not an easy course - some brutal hills and the April day ended up being near sweltering by the time the race finished  It was fun to bear witness to each of my friends and my husband accomplishing something that they could now check off their bucket list.

Besides the race, we have a great time in Nashville on our short tip.  We went out to dinner Friday night with the whole crew at a cute place called Cabana's where we got our own little private booth and the runners pre-gamed with pasta and lots of water.  It was the first time I'd seen Heather since she moved to CT a year ago!  We were happy to be reunited, even for a brief dinner and a high five at mile 3.

On Saturday, the runners crashed for naps afterward (the BEST feeling) and then we headed back downtown for dinner at Bosco's Brewery (which was really good!) and then we even found a little bit of energy reserve to go out downtown and find ourselves a spot in a Honky Tonk.  When in Nashville, right?  Not bad for a crew of post-racers and a preggo.... although I can't say anyone felt an extra inclination to do some two stepping or even walk to another bar once we got situated in our first one.

Post-race 7pm smiles: Anne, Matt, Locke, Nick, Jane, Steph & Rick

Then we woke up Sunday and headed on back home to the Dash, and just like that an event that was 4 months in the making was over!  Congrats, runners!  (Who is ready to sign up for another????)

Donuts! And Running!

Admittedly, not two things that usually go together…

And yet…

On the morning of Matt’s birthday was the Matt Gfeller Donut Run.  I wasn’t exactly relishing the idea of eating a half-dozen Krispy Kremes mid-5k, but I’ve wanted to do this race since it’s inception 3 years ago because of the cause.  Matt was in my sister’s class when she student taught here in Winston, and he died after having a traumatic brain injury after a helmet-to-helmet collision in his first varsity football game.  The race was started by his friends in 2009 to honor him as well as to raise money for TBI research in a foundation named for Matt.  I know my sister appreciated that I should be there to “represent” her – although I’m quite certain she would have fared better at the donut eating than I did.  There were a ton of high schoolers who were running the race (which in my experience is really unusual for a 5k) and there was just a huge sense of community and fellowship at this race.

And donuts!  Did I mention you had to eat donuts?  Fortunately, I found out that you did not have to eat all six half dozen donuts if you didn’t care about your time counting to place in your age group.  Since the only time that’s ever happened to me was when I was the *only* runner in my age group in a very small race once, I wasn’t too concerned.

The donut challenge was intense.  After a mile and a half, the runners came up on the donuts…

(If I knew that blonde girl, I’d feel bad about posting this picture as she is clearly mid donut-chomp.  But I don’t.  So I don’t.)

The runners on their way back after eating all six donuts looked seriously miserable.  I don’t know if anyone had difficulty keeping the donuts down, but I can tell you after eating just one I wasn’t feeling my best. 

Despite my donut half way (and the celebratory champagne we had the night before to early celebrate Matt’s birthday), I couldn’t believe it when my RunKeeper told me at mile 2 that I was averaging a little over a 10 minute pace.  I’m generally more of an 11 minute mile girl, and factoring in my pre-race and mid-race dietary choices, totally expected this to be one of my worst races.

But hey, maybe I’ve just discovered the secret to my 5k PR: hydrate with bubbly, refuel with donuts.  Sounds like a great plan to me.

Float like a Butterfly, Run like a Bee…

That’s how that saying goes, right?

No?

So explain to me what all these bees are doing running then….

Today was the Boos & Brews Halloween 5k.  I’ve never run a race in costume before, but when my friend Teri tweeted me about it a few weeks ago I impulsively signed up. 

Then I immediately started worrying over what kind of costume I could wear, much less run in.  Inspiration struck when I was putting away laundry and noticed a bright yellow t-shirt next to my black running skirt.  A few pieces of black duct tape, some striped knee socks, wings and an antennae headband and I was good to go!  Bzz bzz!

I was excited to see so many other runners came out in costume – in fact, almost everyone running the race was dressed up!

Me, Anne and Teri in our cute costumes – Anne in 80s gear, me as a bumble bee and Teri as Tinkerbell.

I was most impressed when I saw this guy…. I couldn’t believe he was able to run in that!

I also couldn’t believe how fast Anne and I ended up running it – there was a huuuuuge hill in the middle of it, that I swear felt like it was never going to end.  We had to walk part of it, so I was delighted when we came in around the corner to the finish and had run it about 2 minutes faster than my “average” time – even with the walk!

We had a blast – I’ll definitely do it again next year.  I’ll have to start scheming what my costume will be – although apparently, having those wings on helped me fly through the race!   Thanks to my friend Stephanie, who is also our Dance Trance instructor and a sponsor of the race, for many of these photos.  She was also a great cheerleader – Anne and I heard her shouting for us as soon as the finish line was in sight! 

Running Mad

I ran a 5k tonight! It was actually the worst race I’ve ever ran!

Well, wait, let me rephrase that.  It was actually the best race I personally have ever run time-wise but the worst course I have ever run.   And that’s saying a lot, because I once ran an extremely miserable run on the Concord motor speedway.

The race was part of Winston’s Rock the Block Fest and was at night.  It was an out and back, and was on a sidewalk.  A gravely, bumpy sidewalk with raised manhole covers.  And cones down the middle to separate the “out” runners from the “back” runners.  There was even one part where race volunteers were yelling at us to single-file.  All 900 of us.

I’m sorry, but WHAT?

The good news is, I was so angry the whole time I was running that I ended up running my PR for a 5k.  I never really set out to run my races at a certain time, because I’ve accepted that when it comes to running I’m pretty darn slow.  In fact, in 10 years of running I’ve never run a 5k in under 35 minutes.

Until now.  And that even includes tripping over a cone around mile 2. 

So maybe I’ll have to rethink that slow kid title…

(And yes that is a glow in the dark shirt, thank you for asking.) 

Dead Legs

It was hot.  The first really hot day we've had this year, and we were out pounding the asphalt down a country road with no shade.

It was hilly.  Gorgeous scenery - rolling farmland, with vines stretching as far as the eye could see.  Gorgeous.  But it's hard to notice that when all you can think about are your quads burning and your heart pounding.

It was tough.  My mind wasn't in a good place, and coupled with the heat I hadn't trained in, I was saying all sorts of curse words about the sport of running.  We came around a bend to a water station at mile 4, and a cute little pixie handed us our Dixie cup of water and squeaked...

"All uphill from here!" as she cheerily waved us on.

"Wait, what did she say?" asked Anne.

"All. Up. Hill." I grunted.

We groaned.

We chugged along, our happy chatter from the first mile being replaced by occassional comments and eventually, just the sound of our breath and our feet pounding.  Our paces changed, and soon I was by myself.  I put my headphones on and prayed some Gaga and some ZBB would carry me to through the final mile.

I came around another corner and saw the gates of the vineyard in sight, and picked up my pace.  I saw the mile marker 6, and knew there were just 0.2 left go and poured out everything I had.  I saw my friends waving from the finish line - done already, happily nursing their powerades and cheering for me.  I pumped my fist, I picked up my legs, I crossed the finish line....

And I puked all the way down the lawn in front of a family and 2 EMS volunteers.

Ugh.

What does Jillian always say?  "Unless you puke, faint or die...keep going!"

Yes ma'am.

I'm pretty sure it was the heat, coupled with the fact that I hadn't been exactly faithful to my training plan the week before.  (I was busy, I had a messed up toe from a pedicure, I prefer sleep over running, blah blah blah...)  But nonetheless, that is what I will always remember from my Running through the Vines 10k.

On a happier note, it was both Anne and Akanksha's first 10k and they did amazing.  There's no better feeling that surpassing a goal you previously thought impossible and I'm so, so proud of them.  Also, Jamie came out to support us and seeing her smiling face and big camera lens at the finish line was the extra push I needed to get me ACROSS the line before my eventful finish.  She drove all the way up from Winston - an hour's ride - to stand in the heat (at 20 wks preggo) to support us.  That is a good friend.

After the race and getting a little food in me, we walked across the street to the cheap hotel room we had rented for the purpose of showering and napping.  Both of which were much needed.  After some BravoTV and napping, I dosed myself with the necessary medicine for recovery: 1 liter of water, 1 packet of Goody's aspirin and a happy meal from Dairy Queen.  With that, I was good to go.

We were able to enjoy a great tasting at Shelton and pick out a bottle to carry out to our picnic blanket on the lawn and settle in for the concert.  The Embers did not disappoint.  They brought down the house... as soon as their first song started playing, there were folks out there shagging and by the end of it, I think the entire lawn had spilled out on the dance floor.  I love beach music and I love the culture of shag dancing - but that's a story for another day.  For now, let me just say that the evening's events... a bottle of wine, the sun setting over the vineyard, some upbeat music and dancing with my girlfriends... more than made up for the morning's miserable run.

I'm still not sure whether my legs were sore the next day from the hill at mile 3 or 3 hours of shag dancing.

PS, Thanks to Jamie for all the race day pictures!

The Long Run

2% of 500 is 10… 2% of 510 is 10.20… 2% of 520.20 is…

Sometimes when I run, I compound interest.  Or I plan meals I’m going to cook for the week.  Or I imagine myself being interviewed on Oprah (most importantly, what outfit I will wear).  I do anything I can to keep my brain from doing this:

My hip hurts.  I’m bored.  This hill sucks.  Why am I doing this?  My toes feel squished.  My hip hurts.  I feel a little nauseous.  Am I getting nauseous?  It’s so hot out.  When can I stop?  How long have I been going?

To me, the hardest part about doing long runs is not the actual running.  Somewhere after 40 or 50 minutes, the pain/discomfort levels out.  The hardest part is keeping my mind off running.  For short runs, I can achieve a little running zen… feeling happy and content with just feeling myself run, feeling healthy and strong, listening to my breathing match my footsteps.  On short runs, I can problem solve.  For years, three mile runs have been my therapy, my brainstorming sessions, my best-idea-generators.  Long runs, runs where I’m out there silently pounding the pavement, are a whole different beast.

I completed my third half-marathon on Sunday.  The night before I didn’t feel particularly nervous this time – I knew we’d trained really well, including a super hilly 13 miles the weekend before.  I knew it would be hard – physically uncomfortable – and that we’d be out there for a really, really long time.

What I wasn’t anticipating though was the difference that a really small race makes, mentally.  My past two experiences have been huge races – the Virginia Beach Rock 'n’ Roll Half and the Baltimore Under Armor Half.  Both had well over 10,000 people, spectators throughout the race, and courses that wound through interesting scenery and cities.

But OUR race had the Lowe’s Motor Speedway!  We were going to run on the Speedway!

Turns out after about 1 minute on the speedway, the “coooooool, I’m on the Speedway!” factors wears off.  Then it’s just another 17 minutes (I’m slow) of running a big, long, gerbil track.  And the Z-Max Dragway?  Running down an airport runway.  To add insult to injury, there were only about 150 other runners and no one on the course except a volunteer every half mile or so to point the way.

“What’s 2% of 100?  And 2% of 102?”

I was digging deep to keep my mind busy.  Lauren and I paced together for the first 9 miles, and we tried hard to steer the conversation away from the crappy course.  After nearly 8 months of training runs together, we’ve covered pretty much every topic of conversation but we were both struggling to keep each other going on this one.  Around 9, Lauren started inching ahead and I waved her on.  9 was a uphill bridge back to the speedway, and then running through the back of the stands (where concessions are) to the entrance.  I sucked on a Gu, chanted “I feel good” to the sound of my feet (which was a far cry from the truth) and willed myself to get to the speedway.  10 was the entrance to the speedway, and after the initial “cool!” factor, I was over it.  Halfway around the track, at 11, I started channeling my dad.  When I ran Baltimore, my Dad was waiting at 11 and jumped in with me.  I heard his voice in my head again telling me it was just a few more miles, flat from here on out, I wasn’t going to stop now, keep going.  11.5 was the exit of the speedway, and a little old man sat at the corner pointing me to 12.

I always think when I get to 12, I’ll feel this burst of energy and just let it all out for the last mile.  This was not what happened.  I was literally chanting to myself “do not stop” “do not stop” over and over again to the sound of my feet.  I knew Lauren and Jamie were already finished, and would be waiting for me.  I started systemically picturing what I would do when I finished: drink a Gatorade.  Get in my car.  Go back to my sister’s apartment and take a shower with her really expensive, yummy smelling shampoo shampoo.  (Thanks, Katie.)  Eat a giant burger from Big Daddy’s. Go home and nap. I kept replaying what was to come in the next 10 minutes over and over again in my head.

And suddenly I was rounding the corner.  Seeing my friends.  Lauren and Jamie, and Lauren’s mom, sister and husband, and Crystal and Akanksha.  Crystal was snapping my picture and Jamie was jumping up and down and shouting.

I started to speed up… just in time to hear Jamie say “you have to go around the corner to finish!!!  Don’t stop!!!”

WHAT THE FURLOCK.

The finish line was around the corner from where we had started, and probably just another 100 yards but it felt like another mile as I rounded the corner.  I saw the timer ticking up another minute and I gave it every thing I had. 

And then, just like that: it’s over.  I had a Gatorade.  Hugged my friends.  Drove back to my sister’s apartment and took a shower with her really expensive, yummy smelling shampoo.  (Thanks, Katie.)  Went to Big Daddy’s with Jamie, Crystal and Akanksha and ate a pimiento cheese burger and homemade chips and a cookies and cream milkshake.

And now, 24 hours later, it’s over.  I can’t really remember the pain.  I can’t really remember how frustrated and tired and mentally challenged I was.  I had to pick out shoes carefully this morning to avoid blister pain and my calves protested the walk up to my third floor office, but other than that… I can’t really remember it.

What I can remember is seeing my friends faces as I rounded the corner.  Hugging Lauren – who after 8 months of training had just completed her first half. Jumping in the car with Jamie and expressing our relief that it was all over. Feeling blessed that 2 of my friends made the 40 mile drive down from Winston just to stand at the finish line and shout for us.  Realizing that a year ago this time, I dropped out of training for a half because of my colitis – and that I was healthy and strong enough to complete it this year. 

The finish line had felt miles away, and just like that it was all over.  And so instead of deleting the email I just got from Lauren about a half-marathon in February (in Disney…with LOTS of people….and LOTS of spectators…) I’m wondering if I could do it all over again….

Jamie, Lauren + I post-race

Ten Freaking Miles

The idea of actually going out and running the race that I signed up for, the Charlottesville 10-Miler, scared the beejeezus out of me since I didn't train for it. AT ALL. As in, I ran once from January 1st to April 4th. And I got a cramp. Physically I assumed I was capable - I have run that distance before in my life, but I had always been training and running regularly up before those runs. So up until the night before, I still wasn't sure about whether or not I wanted to run. I was afraid: afraid I'd get out there and not be able to finish (omg, 5 miles to the finish line.... I'm stranded, AYEEEE), or it'd hurt (umm, yes, for real), or I'd just really not enjoy it and the last thing I wanted was to start disliking running. It's hard enough to fit it into my week, and I enjoy it so much!

I woke up the morning of the race and decided WTH. The don't-do-it reasons were pretty arguable (especially the not finishing... hello... I can WALK.) My plan was to wear my watch that paces me and walk a mile, run a mile. Considering my run pace is just mere milliseconds faster than a walk pace, I didn't imagine this would take me too much longer than the running (sprinting) winos.

After the first few miles, I knew I physically didn’t need to switch to a walk pace. Mentally was another question. I was fine until 7, and then the wall hit. Miles 7-8 I distracted myself with my usual reverie (one that almost always involves envisioning myself on Oprah, and/or working on the Biggest Loser… yep, that’s how I get through my mileage.) Mile 9 hit hard. I kept looking down at my watch, and the tenths of a mile ticked... on... by. Around 9.3, I started praying. “God, you pick up my legs, I’ll put ‘em down.” As my running shuffle came to an end, I put on a Jars of Clay song “Carry Me.” CHEESY. Whatever - I needed it. At 9.4, we hit a hill. A big freaking hill. Whose grand gesture was that? Thanks, Charlottesville. I prayed feverently, knowing it was not going to be me that got up this hill. Amazingly, I hit a stride and my legs became light as air. Tears pricked at my eyes as I became overwhelmed with this feeling of ceding control, yet feeling totally in control. At 9.8, Mercy Me’s “I Can Only Imagine” came on (on shuffle). Not exactly the tempo of my usual pick-me-up songs (generally Cascada and DHT are my booster songs) but I felt my speed pick up as the chorus line swelled, and the finish came into sight. As the line of those waiting came into view, I saw Jess, Jenny, Emily and Shelby jumping up and down screaming my name. I ran by yelling “I didn’t walk! I didn’t walk!” and collapsed into their arms at the finish line, overcome with surprise that my legs had kept moving the whole time.

I was way surprised at myself – I think I often times underestimate my mental toughness. Maybe it’s because I quit a few things early in life – I quit JV softball after Coach Hans yelled at me for missing a crucial pop up in right field, and I quit my job at Pontillo’s on my 2nd day after my boss got mad at me for forgetting to ask an order with “peppers” wanted sweet or hot. This idea that I don’t have stick-to-it-veness has stuck with me for a long time, despite many other scenarios in my life to the contrary. I’ve often told my coaching clients that they always have the opportunity to change the story that they tell themselves about themselves – to rewrite their character descriptions of their life. When I hear someone say “I’m soooo disorganized”, or “I’m addicted to sweets,” or “I'm a magnet for craptastic relationships” … I think to myself “Offfff course you are. Because you tell yourself you are, you find the evidence that supports this and ignore the evidence to the contrary.”

So *cue the life coach moral of the story part*.... maybe it’s time for me to start ignoring the evidence to the contrary – forget the peppers and JV softball. I ran a 10 mile race I didn’t train for WITHOUT quitting. In fact, I bet if I stopped to think of it, there are probably just as many “keep going” scenarios in my life as there are quitting scenarios. Soooo, why not make the choice today to believe that I’m way more mentally tough than I’ve given myself credit for? I just might try that, thanks. Watch out – who knows what this tough chick will do now.

Finish line. BooYAH.

Truth & Friendship

I am sitting on the railing of a light pine colored porch, with the camera lens zoomed out. Focused in my viewfinder are four beautiful girls, 2 half-empty bottles of wine, and a cheese plate with some rinds and the remains of an apple compote. The sun is baking down, melting the cheese rinds and slowly bronzing the girls. If my camera could capture laughter, I'm sure the memory card would be full within seconds. I snap the picture, hoping to catch one of the more perfect moments in my life, almost as if I don't trust my own memory to bring me back to this moments. I couldn't have designed a more picture-perfect day.

My view.

The day started off early - at 6:00 am, the alarm clock went off. As I ate my banana in the kitchen, slowly four sleepy eyed girls joined me in various degrees of workout gear and alertness. In January, four of us decided to sign up for the notoriously hilly Charlottesville Ten Miler. My girlfriends, the winos, make it a point to gather at least four times a year. Sometimes it's for an occasion - a bachelorette party, a wedding, a birthday - but more often than not, it's just to be with each other. This was somewhere in the middle, a ten mile race being used our excuse for a get together. We were in various stages of preparedness - Jenny came out of the womb running and was bouncing off the walls, as if a ten mile run was a walk in the park. Shelby had done a regular training plan, and was calm and ready. Jess, although not on a regular training schedule, had paced herself through long runs many times before and felt confident she could pull it off. I, on the other hand, had hit training plan FAIL. I had every good intention to train, but a colder, rainier spring and a totally wussy personality found me crossing off week after week without a run. At the last minute, I decided to run anyways, assuming I'd run half and walk half. With our "coach" and photographer, Emily, we set off. (I’ll blog about the run in a separate entry, because I had a big a-ha moment in the midst of my run. And you may have noticed, but I don’t exactly describe my thought processes with great brevity.) I did finish the run though – in 1:58. The rest of the girls finished in extremely respectable times, starting with Shelby finishing at 1:22 and the rest coming in at exactly 10 minute intervals (and thus, one minute less per mile).

Pre-run, sleepy pic.

After the run, which was as hilly AND gorgeous as had been promised by our host, we set out to embark on a breakfast of champions. We gobbled down omelettes and bottomless cups of coffee and planned out our day. Let me just say this: when your big decision of the day is “nap or no nap before vineyards”…. LIFE IS GOOD. Can I just have a DVR of my life and revisit this day again and again and again? Sigh. We voted no-nap (perhaps the bottomless coffee was speaking for us) and went back to Jessie’s house to get spruced up.

Veritas was beaaaautiful. I thought about inquiring if they would let me put a tent up in the vineyard and just hang out there, you know, forever. Maybe it was the comfortable, sunny weather, maybe it was the heart warming company, or maybe it was the deliciously crisp Sauvignon Blanc but I was in such a perfect state of nirvana. We stayed at the vineyard for a couple of hours, long past the bottles being empty and the rind of our manchego started to melt in the sun. The only motivation we had to finally get up and leave was a short trip down the road: a brewery.

Yum.

Same gorgeous mountains and green grass views. Same warm sun to bask in. Same wonderful company. Subtract 2 empty wine bottles; add in a sampler of local brewed beers and level 2 of friendship nirvana kicked in. We stayed at the brewery for another hour or so, and as the sun set, so did our fatigue set in.

More yum.

Back home to Charlottesville, we headed out for dinner at a place called The Local. Their claim to fame was that all their food came from places local to Charlottesville. I couldn’t imagine that a locally raised cattle burger would taste any different, but um yea… I was totally wrong. It was delicious (even though it wasn’t actually my plate, I swear I ate at least a third of Shelby’s.) I had a salad that, truth be told, kind of looked like lawn clippings, and in fact, I may have eaten a dandelion but it was so fresh and delicious I didn’t care. I will confess my gnocchi tasted a bit Chef Boyardee, but I’m not sure there’s a lot you can do to make gnocchi taste like anything other than the carbolicious pasta/potato combo that it is. After dinner, we convened for one drink in downtown Charlottesville before concluding that we were either way old/boring or that running ten miles and then sitting out in the sun drinking wine is an activity that does not well prepares you for a night on the town. We hope it’s the latter.

Winos. (Minus one.)

Our wonderful day concluded, we all fall asleep with well worn out bodies and hearts drunk on friendship and delicious food. Could I have dreamt up a better day with my girlfriends? Absolutely… but only by transporting our one missing wino, Pam, down here, as the missing piece. Other than that, I’m not sure I could have designed a better weekend - running, wine, music, photography, friendship… preeeeetty sure that hits all the high points on the happy-o-meter.

February Delight

Hello, sunshine. Hello, warm weather. Hello, RUNNING SHOES. Please, please, please, weather gods and anyone else listening... DON'T GO AWAY. This is the kind of weather I love. It's not hot, it's not cold. You're comfortable in a t-shirt and light pants. The grill beckons to be used. Windows are rolled down on cars and we start to wonder if we can pack up our cardigans.

The best part of this weather, for me, is running. Running outside today feels like slipping seamlessly through the air. There's no cold to burn your lungs, there's no heat to blanket you and follow you around like your own personal sauna. I love this weather, and I'm going to usher in some sore overused hip flexors if it keeps up because I cannot stop myself from lacing up and heading over to Buena Vista to slip through the perfect air along the cracked sidewalks, delightfully surprised at the February spring we've been blessed with. Please stay like this? Pretty please?

A Mistletoe Morning

On a cold December morning, while smart people everywhere pulled up their down comforters and snored the morning away, Matt and Jamie joined 1200 other Winston-Salemites to brave the cold to run the Mistletoe 5k. They both ran record fast times, which not only made this spectator very proud but also very happy. One more mile to watch and my toes might have fallen off. Could it be that the smart ones were actually the ones who huffing and puffing, and well, moving?

Suckered by the Scenery

It has been so gorgeous here in North Carolina. The campus has turned into a showboat of oranges, reds and golds with the leaves changing but it remains absolutely perfectly warm. (To me, converted Belle that I am, that means in the 70s.) There are few things that make me happier than a lunchtime run in November in shorts and a t-shirt.

That is why, despite the fact that I knew I had packed the wrong pair of socks (too big), I went for a run on Thursday. And that is why, even knowing these socks were too big and thus slipping and sliding all over the inside of my shoes, I went all the way down Polo Rd thus committing me to a 4+ mile run. And that is why, despite the pain, I kept running.

And that is why, the entire medial side of the bottom of my left foot is a blister. It is approximately 3 inches long by a half inch wide. Am I grossing you out yet? I am dismayed at my poor judgement.

But it was such a pretty day...