Runner's High

Not every run is a great run, and the elusive "runner's high" is not exactly a myth, but more an exception than the norm.

Today's run was both.  I ran 22 miles and felt great.  As usual, my strategy is to start out easier and really push it towards the end.  But unlike previous runs where my pace-per-mile for the first 6 miles was about 50 seconds slower than the last 5, today I narrowed the gap so that the overall pace variation was only about 20 seconds.  And, today's run was at the same pace as my last 20, and about 17 minutes faster than the 22 miler I did at this point in my training for Chicago.  This all bodes well.

Towards the end, I was tired and with about 1/2 mile to go, I remember 2 pretty cute guys passing me (fyi, this was during Springstein's "Born to Run").  I let them go, but as soon as Van Halen's "Right Now" started playing, I said, "F**k it, let's kick."

"To kick" means to push yourself extra hard at the finish.  So I went.  Past the 2 guys, and past a number of people.  A few times I thought I was going to nearly vomit, and during one of the great guitar rifts in that song, I swear I saw stars.

I kicked through the "finish line" (aka the light at the cross-walk) and sort of grabbed onto the fence to slow my momentum and turn around.  The two guys were there, running pretty close to the inside.  It seemed like I was in their way, but the guy on the outside reaches across his buddy holding up his hand to give me a high-five.  "Great job!" I got 2 high-fives from 2 strangers, which is a first during a training run.  (Races are different).  Despite my endorphin-juiced state after 22 miles, I managed back an enthusiastic "Thank you!"  After all, it was a pretty darn strong kick, and it was like all 3 of us knew I'd just had a great run.

22 miles in Central Park this morning to ponder the meaning of life

I get to spend a lot of time in Central Park.  Good thing I like the park so much

First year in my apartment!

I closed on my apartment a year ago (which was also one year after going into contract)

What an adventure it was to move everything myself (from across the street) when my movers never showed up!

I had a lot of time to imagine colors and furniture arrangements

It certainly is a pleasure coming home every day!

The light at sunset is amazing.  What an exciting year it has been

Post-Marathon Siesta in Barcelona!

I'm honestly not sure if this is a photo or a drawing.


After the Paris Marathon on April 5th, I'll work one day at company headquarters and then take 3 vacation days.  We have that Friday off for Good Friday (the only Capital Markets holiday that is not also a Federal Banking holiday), so I get an extra day before the weekend.  

Today I bought a flight for Barcelona for a ridiculously cheap price.  My plan is to bring my backpack (for backpacking, not school books), stay in a cheap hostel in a cool location, explore on my own a city I've never been to but have heard is amazing.  

I am incredibly grateful to get to stay in a nice hotel in Paris, but you have a totally different kind of adventure when you backpack like a college student on a budget.  And I can't wait!   

Playing...is NOT an intuitive concept for everyone.

I have a colleague just a few years older than me, an overachieving workaholic with an MBA, J.D (that is a law degree), a CFA, and oh yeah... no life outside of work.  

When we first started working together, my first thought was (obviously) who is this person?  I've since learned that he most likely has no other activities BUT work... or else doesn't know how to do anything else.  His family lives in another country, and he apparently also has a girlfriend also currently living in another country.  

He literally lives at the office.  In one of life's little dramatic ironies, his landlord threatened to evict him on New Years Eve because he was convinced he didn't actually live there.  So what does he do?  He spends the morning petitioning to the management company, and then comes into the office at 2:30 pm.  ON NEW YEARS EVE.  When the office closes at 3:00.  Per company policy, if you stay at work past 8:30, our company pays for a car service home.  He lives waaaaaay uptown.  (That car service concept is wasted on me because I get to walk to work, not that I would care to be in the office that late anyway).  But it is NOT necessary to work until 10:00 or 11:00 or midnight.  Saturday and Sunday, however, he does inform me he goes home early.  Like 7:00 pm.  ON SATURDAY.

He's also not the best time manager.  In fact, he's one of the least efficient workers I know, but seems to thinks he doesn't have a choice but to stay in the office and work past the point of exhaustion.

I gave him the New York Times article on the importance of playing, and made him read it.  Three times he chimes up with an "I disagree!" or "But...".  I tell him to keep reading.  He gets to the point about natural settings activating this involuntary attention.  

So what does he do?  He proceeds to spend the next 4 hours downloading a PICTURE of a green mountain with a lake.  It will be made into wallpaper on his desktop, he reasons, so he will get to spend his day in front of his computer in front of a natural setting.  Oh Goodness.  It takes so long because there are restrictions for downloading wallpapers, so he has to get IT to do it for him.   Forget actually GOING outside and looking at a tree (or even a city block and fresh air is an improvement), or forget getting your work done quickly and going home before 6pm on a Friday.  No, go download a picture on your computer of a natural setting.

Kids, this is not the point.  Playing should be PLAYING.  Go outside.

Keep on Playing!

Work-life balance is a major point of contention between me and my employers.  We differ sharply on the concept that "the longer you're in the office, the more work you do" and sitting in your chair for the sake of sitting in your chair.

I'm motivated to work efficiently and get things done so that I can leave in the evening to go run.  When I don't run, I am grumpy, sleep poorly, and overall less am productive and feel less happy.  Running-time is the only time I know I'll get fresh air all day, and I keep going during the day knowing I get to spend those miles after work (most of the time, occasionally before) in Central Park, my favorite spot in New York City.  

When I run with my friends, running is almost therapy- maybe it is something about sharing the bond of running/sweating/trying to have a conversation at an elevated heart rate in the first place that has brought my running buddies and me closer.  When I run alone, running is active meditation.  I think about something I'm trying to solve, or I intentionally let my mind wander to think about nothing at all.  Returning from a run leaves me re-inspired, refreshed, and energized.  In short, running is my play-time. 

The New York Times just published an article about the importance of recess in child development.  I beg to argue that it is not important to just young children, but that is besides the point.  Basically, there are 2 forms of attention- directed attention and involuntary attention.  Directed attention is what we use when we're concentrating on work, reading, sitting in front of a computer etc.  It is a limited resource and leaves us fatigued.  

On the other hand, involuntary attention kicks in when we are distracted by playing, and seems to kick in when we're in natural settings.  This kind of attention allows our directed attention to restore itself.  

Here is my favorite quote... "Young rats denied opportunities for rough-and-tumble play develop numerous social problems in adulthood.  They fail to recognize social cues and the nuances of rat hierarchy; they aren't able to mate.  By the same token, people who play as children 'learn to handle life in a much more resilient and vital way.'"

So, more proof that playing is important to physical and social development, and more fodder to my argument that running makes me work better.  

And as for the implied correlation based on rat studies between failing to play/failing to view playtime as important and socially-unadjusted colleagues with unhappy home lives?  I'll leave that one for the reader to decide.

If the weather were warmer today, I'm sure we'd all eat popsicles on tanks

...all wearing our Ironmaiden shirts too.

And tell me, Sveta, do you like to go to the ballet?

Learning Russian is really fun.  I listen to audio clips on my ipod when I walk to and from work, and repeat words and sentences when I'm getting ready in the morning.

My boss is Russian.  She met her American husband in Russian, so she'll usually speak to him in Russian on the phone at work.  

She knows that I'm learning Russian, but I doubt either of us imagined I'd ever be able to understand her.  

Nothing juicy, mind you, but today there was a conversation about buying tickets (a parent-child-package) for 3 ballet concerts.  The tickets were cheap.  She will buy them.  Listen, this is what I will do.  We will go to the ballet.  Let's do it. Listen. The daughter will like them. No, I have to go.  I have a lot of work to do.  Etc.  I got the gist of the conversation, which was very exciting.  

As long as a Russian conversation has to do with meals/food, getting-to-know you, simple occupations, family and the home, or getting around town, I can recognize enough to know the general discussion topic.

On the other hand, were I to overhear a conversation discussing illness, for example, then whether I'm eavesdropping on someone's bout with flu or a broken leg, then, well, your guess is as good as mine.  Baby steps though, baby steps.

It is like a troop of tone-deaf gnomes are doing bad karaoke in my furnace

When I lived at Smith, our house (Gardiner!) was heated by an old steam system pretty common to older building.  Under the house, in a maze of basements that connected our house to 2 other houses in the Quad, was a huge boiler room.  One year I lived in the first-floor study (sigh... it was my own little library with built-in bookshelves), and when they turned the heaters on, you could hear the clanking of the pipes traveling all the way down the long hallway.  

Naturally, I imagined that there were little men who lived and worked inside the venting system, and those freaky noises were the men hammering and chiseling away on the metal pipes, so that the whole house would be heated.  

Well, here I am in New York City, and my little men are back inside my furnace.  Except instead of clanging, they are all drunk, and singing miserably.  And no one knows the words, so they all just hum.  Loudly.  Except for pauses to get a new pint of beer or something.   And then back to it.  Truly, I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.

When good photos go bad...

This was really obnoxious.  When I tried uploading my photos, a few of them got corrupt, or otherwise "became unrecognizable" in format.  Silly me, I automatically delete the photos from my camera when I import them, but now all I have is the thumbnails.  Sometimes you think you know a picture, you think it is good... I mean, it looks good on the outside and all.  And then out of the blue, suddenly it is not what you think- it's gone over to the other side.  Tragic.

Radiator is humming and I think I'm going crazy!

Hey there.  Imagine a bunch of little men living in your radiator, running a vacuum cleaner along all the little pipes inside the furnace system.  And then a jackhammer.  

Two guys who make ice cream and know what they're talking about

This is how you chop onions

She is a genius

Note the rubber gloves too... hand and eye protection

Smith Drive-By on the way to Vermont

On our way up to Vermont, I thought about my many Smith memories as we passed Exit 18 on I-91. I remembered all the experiences I had there, and how Smith shaped who I am today.

I lived for 2 years in a 4th floor corner room with a bench window seat and a view of the entire inner Quad.

See, the little red arrow points to my room!

A little cottage in the woods

Just before driving back to New York.  

The pretty red roof

Our cottage in Vermont sat on a peninsula

I used to build (less elaborate) versions of the neighbor's house when I was a kid with Lincoln Logs

What could be more fun than this?

17 degrees outside.  Just past 4:00 am, post 8+hour drive (thanks, holiday weekend traffic).  One hill.  2 wheel drive.  4 brave guys.  

We would have hitch-hiked the last 2 miles to the house, except our stuck car was kind of blocking the road.  Not that dirt roads in Vermont get much traffic at that hour.  

We made it!  Champagne toast!  

Let's cook breakfast!

Our cottage in Vermont had an amazing gourmet kitchen.  

We had our own gourmet chef.

I got to be the sous chef!

A story in only six words

Ernest Hemmingway once wrote a brief but telling story: "For sale: baby shoes.  Never worn."

During my 14-turned-18-mile-(thanks, detour)-run in Vermont, I listened to NPR Talk of the Nation's Valentine's Day special on the 6-word memoir.  I clearly had a lot of time on my hand and put together my own.  Apparently though, one of my talents does not include running and counting, because every-other one was initially seven words.

Weekend in Vermont in six words:

* Map's at home.  Where am I?

* Seven people, six ski lift tickets

* GPS wrong.  Seasonal road. Turn around

* It seemed like a good idea

* Always chop onions with ski goggles

* Why study?  Just bake banana bread

* Run faster, get home sooner

We're not in Kansas anymore...

Saturday in Vermont I planned on doing a 14 mile run.  I used my favorite website, mapmyrun.com to plan out a route exactly from our cottage.  Just after 9 miles into the run, I knew something was amiss, because I couldn't seem to find the turnoff to the road that would take me back home.  

I doubled back to read the sign I'd ignored: "GPS Wrong.  Season Road. Turn around."  Ouch, painful.  The run ended up being 18.4 miles.  

The elevation profile says it all too... the red lines are 5% grade up-hills.  That is steep.  I was suffering on the outbound run, but paced myself, because it was only (supposed to be) 14 miles.  The downhill was so steep too I that I had to break myself from flying forward into the muddy/icy roads.  On the return journey, those hills hurt even worse... especially because it lasted over 2 miles.  I don't think I've experienced that run that intense...ever.  If a human emotion could be experienced on a run, I felt it.  Except, great running wisdom will tell you it is pretty impossible to both cry and run at the same time, and going up a 5% grade, breathing is more important.  

At one point, I turned to look at a farm next to the road, where the horses all stood next to the fence watching me (perplexed, if a horse can look perplexed).  Maybe this falls under the hallucination category, but I swear the horses whispered, "Go Amy!  You can do it!  Keep going!"  

Despite a little more adventure than I bargained for, this was one of the most beautiful runs ever.  Though chilly in the shade, the weather was sunny and perfect (especially for mid February, Vermont).  And those hills...?  Bring 'em!!

Come Visit us in Vermont!

Though I should be packing to go to Vermont, I'm doing the next best thing and writing about it!  We'll drive up from Serge's house tonight (it should take almost 7 hours!)

Funny thing too, because I've been listening to several different Russian language tapes and podcasts, and they all mention Vermont in the dialogues and vocabulary lists.  

For example, Christy tells Alseski that she is from Vermont.  She was born there and her family lives in Vermont.  She then goes on to say that her family has a house in the country (but not a dacha), but that she lives in an apartment.

Aleski asks Christy, "Does your apartment have all the modern conveniences?"  

"Yes," she says, "We have hot water, a bathroom and a toilet in our apartment!"  

"How interesting!" says Aleski.

"Come visit us in Vermont!"

I discovered some rodents in my apartment.

The beatings will continue until morale improves

I needed something to lighten the mood a little, as my morale seems to have gone missing...

Dennis' birthday party

Sasha, Alex, Dennis (the birthday boy) and Dennis' brother.  Anna made Borsch (traditional Russian beet soup), which I tried for the first time.  I only had room for a bite, post pizza, but it was delicious!

Katya, Eugeney, Serge, Emilia, Roman, and I think that is Sergey's foot.  Dennis is standing

We've seen those socks before... they are Daniel, not Sergey's feet!

Art in Columbus Circle

Just a picture that caught my eye in the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle

Oh, right... meet me at the place with the NOSE

I was walking to practice tonight and noticed this gigantic nose on top of an Italian restaurant at 57th and 7th Avenue.  What in the world?   

8 weeks until Paris Marathon!

I did my second 20-mile run this morning.  I can't say it was easy or didn't hurt.  The emphasis for my long runs has basically been to finish stronger and faster than I started, and I've consistently been running negative splits (meaning that if I ran 4 loops, each one was faster than the previous.)  

The benefit to doing this is that it teaches me to run strong when I am tired.  Today I tried to imagine what it will feel like in the race, where I will most certainly be tired and hurting much worse.  I imagined what it feels like to run totally fresh, and thought about "fresh" posture and stride, and tried to make my body move the way it moves in the first few miles when I step outside my door.  I also reminded myself to acknowledge the pain, but keep on running, because it is supposed to hurt- that means I'm doing it right!  Also, it doesn't hurt any worse to run faster (or at least to maintain my pace) when I'm tired as to slow my pace into a shuffle, but I'll finish the run sooner.  

Pacing is definitely an art form.  One of the reasons I am able to finish so strong is that I probably start out a little too relaxed.  In the marathon, my biggest challenge will be finding the right pace.  Though they place you automatically with a pace group, they are only in 15 minute increments, so I am with the 3:30 group, which is faster than I want to start the race. However, I have the benefit of my Philly 1/2 marathon experience where I was forced to rely on my own internal pace and ended up with the best race of my life.  During Paris, I'll be able to "check in" every 5K to the time clock.  There will be no way for me to gage my miles, but I know that my 5K splits should be right around 25 minutes each. 

The run today was inspiring for another reason too... the gorgeous weather.  I left my jacket, gloves, headband, and tights at home and ran with my sleeves pushed up my arms, wishing I'd worn shorts and a t-shirt, not capris.  I saw more people running in Central Park yesterday and today than I see in 2 weeks of cold weather.  It is hard not to lift your knees a little higher and drop your shoulders a little lower when you run past collegiate cross country runners (as in, cross paths with, or are passed by, but never pass), who glide by in an effortless pack of perfect running form.  I saw dads huffing behind baby joggers, and men double-take when a very fit new mother pushed a double-jogger past them up a hill as if it weighed nothing.  A few brave runners who attempted the dirt paths were easily identifiable by marked legs completely tattooed with splashed mud. 

ModPodge Heart-Shaped Box

Another friend's birthday is around the corner.  I bought the box and paper at Lee's Art Shop.

First, I tore out the flowers

And then paint a layer of the glue, place the paper, and another layer of glue on top.  The nice thing about this paper is that it is thin enough to not get bubbles.  You can smooth out any edges with your fingers, or tear the paper to fold around a corner.

The sides of the box are finished!  I think I'd like to paper the inside box base, but I am waiting to see how "hard" it dries first.

The lid is also finished.  I'll still do the base, but have to save that for another day.