Some Things I Don’t Understand

1.  The Running Skirt

This is becoming increasingly popular and more and more seem to be popping up at each road race I do.  Why?  From my perspective, it’s wasteful and impractical.  There are shorts underneath so the extra flap is superfluous.  I’ve never found myself wanting running attire that limits my movement.  Maybe I’m weird in that respect.  And while I’m all for being feminine, I think I can deal with wearing pants/shorts for the hour or so I’m running.

2. Geometry 

Math is, admittedly, not my strongest subject.  I’m a world-class bullshitter with a talent for words (are you getting why I was a history major now?).  That being said, I like math.  Algebra and statistics make sense to me.  They can also be kinda relaxing.  Not so with geometry.  I just don’t get it.  I kinda hate it.  And I’ve yet to find a real-world application for it.  I’m sure they exist but I haven’t dusted of my protractor or compass since sophomore year of high school.

 

3.  Sausage

Sausage has the distinction of being the one item on this list that I don’t WANT to understand.  I don’t know what it is.  I don’t want to devote anytime to thinking about it.  I don’t get how sausage can exist in thousands of forms from many different animals, but I’m okay with that.  How sausage can be “home-made” is a mystery to me.  A mystery to be left unsolved.    I choose not to think about sausage and I definitely choose not to eat sausage.  

So go on, tell me what you don’t understand.  

An Ode to the 10k

So I’m back from beautiful California and just wanted to take a minute to express my love for the 6.2-mile distance.  Less than 24 hours after landing in Californi-i-a, I embarked on a very memorable run through the mean streets of Santa Cruz.  In freezing cold temperatures, Sarah (sister), Emily (sister), Sam (sister’s boyfriend), and I conquered the 36th running of the famed Wharf-to-Wharf 10k.  

But let’s back up a bit.  Seven months ago, I was visiting California for the first time with my dear friend Dasha.  Her aunt and uncle took us on a driving tour of Santa Cruz, pointing out the hot spots like the boardwalk and the surf museum.   They also mentioned that a beach party-like run takes place there every July.  As a recent college graduate with not much going on my life, I joked that maybe I’d take up running and come back for the race.  The day I got back to Boston, I bought some Asics and bookmarked the Couch-to-5k-Plan.  I set out running and haven’t looked back.

Six months, two road races, and hundreds of miles pounding the pavement later, I completed the race that inspired me to start running in the first place.  And yet, I almost missed the significance of the Wharf-to-Wharf.  Smack in the middle of my racing season, I started seeing the 10k as just a stop on the way to Falmouth and the B.A.A. Half-Marathon.  My miserable days as a high school track not-so-much-star were forgotten.  I’d gotten so accustomed to running that I glossed over the fact that just six months ago I considered those who enjoyed running to be crazy-folk.  But all it took was an early morning run along the ocean to bring me back to my senses.  The 10k in general and Wharf-to-Wharf in particular freakin rock.  And here’s why.

-The 10k is twice the distance of the 5k (duh), which is perhaps the most egalitarian distance in running.  6.2 miles is a respectable distance and feels like an accomplishment, yet still retains the welcoming attitude of the 5k and attracts lots of less-than-elite runners.  This makes the crowd you run with diverse and entertaining.  Running with Elvis, 5 year olds, AND competitive Kenyans?  Sure, I’ll do it.

-As if the scenery and 15,000 other runners weren’t inspiring enough, the Wharf-to-Wharf course is dotted with 50 bands, spectators with cowbells, and a beach-party atmosphere.  A balloon arch at each mile?  Nice touch guys.  It makes every mile feel like an accomplishment and helps propel runners to a speedy finish.

-The 10k requires a certain measure of training and takes up the better part of one’s race-day morning.  BUT it doesn’t sap all of one’s energy and leaves the rest of the day to enjoy burritos at El Palomar and take a scenic tour of Route 1 while winding one’s way up to San Francisco for vacation.  It may also leave energy for a marathon-like eating tour of Northern California and a bike ride across the Golden Gate Bridge later in the week.  

All in all, the Wharf-to-Wharf is a damn good way to start off a vacation.  I’m sensing a new tradition.  Who’s with me?

Shameless Plug

Yes friends, it’s been a while.  What’s my excuse?  Laziness, I suppose.  There’s been plenty to soapbox about.  You know, quitting my job, graduating from college four months after I graduated from college, kind of starting a new job, getting the MONSTER bruise at the opening of the Apple Store, kind of figuring out my life, making the July trip to California official, learning I’m going to become a 1st cousin-once-removed, showing my best friend from high school around Beantown, being diagnosed as not the least bit clumsy by two specialists, my discovery of the greatest drink every (decaf iced grande soy peppermint mocha)…I’ve just been too busy livin’ life and enjoying these last days of being 21 to keep up with the ol’ blog.  Sorry, folks.

But now I’m back in the saddle.  With many of friends either on fabulous European get-aways or visiting their families, it’s looking like I’ll have quite bit of time on my hands in the coming days.  So what am I going to talk about?  The heartbreaking news that my favourite president wants my preferred candidate to quit?  My up-coming birthday? Life in the real world? Nope.  I’m just going to brag a bit here so please hold back your vom.

Yesterday I ran in my first race since my high school track days.  Tired, dehydrated, and sick as a dog BEFORE the race, I managed to finish in 44 minutes and 45 seconds, putting me at an 8:57/mile pace.  I placed 554th out of 1702 runners and was the 99th 19-29 year old female to cross the finish line (out of 418).  Highlights from the day included seeing two friends of mine from high school, cheering on/being inspired by the half-marathoners, and spending the afternoon on the couch recovering and eating an eggplant sub.  While I won’t be setting world records anytime soon, I would like to brag that I am officially a runner now.  And I have my cheesy finisher’s medal to prove it.

The Circus Came to Town!

And by circus, I obviously mean the 112th running of the Boston Marathon.  

Aah, Marathon Monday.  A day when 80 year olds run 26.2 miles and 12 year olds are drunk in the streets (and vice versa).  This was my 4th Patriot’s Day as a Bostonian but only the 2nd one I’ve actively participated in (active participation=drinking booze and cheering from the sidelines).  Just as the Red Sox won the World Series both my freshman and senior year, Marathon Monday is my college bookends.

For most of last week, the Marathon caused nothing but distress in my life.  In a week of more freakouts and life crises than I’ve had during the rest of my life combined, the Marathon was just one huge annoyance.  It meant an influx of an obnoxious number of obnoxious tourists, many whom did not speak English and many of whom made my life pure hell at work.  Adidas’s “Impossible is Nothing” campaign was suddenly everywhere, with pictures of exhilarated runners triumphantly crossing the finish line.  With a broken toe preventing me from running and my lack of life direction weighing heavily on my mind, I was a pretty unhappy camper.  Luckily I’m now back on my feet (or toe)  and back in my (more or less) right mind.  Just in time to enjoy the Marathon!

Boston was sunny and warm today.  It was also a madhouse.  Court and I secured a prime viewing spot at the usually uberclassy Eastern Standard (they got into the marathon spirit by turning the outdoor seating area into a place to knock back Harpoon IPA in plastic cups [we kept it classy with our favourite cocktail, the Pelican[).  Since I had to work this morning, I missed the elite runners, Lance Armstrong, and Rick and Dick Hoyt.  I did, however, see men dressed as nuns

and a guy juggling 

We stayed until the very end (when they reopened Beacon Street to traffic) and cheered for every person that passed us.  While walking back to Allston, I passed several people still making their way to the finish line.  I cheered for them too.  That Boston Marathon running spirit is infectious and I am SO excited about my upcoming running exploits.