Don't you just love that word? It has so much emotion behind it. I live for that feeling, that "AHA!" moment when something clicks, you thoroughly "get it". That's why I'm back in school. I like the clicking, the "getting it". Yesterday it was about an air parcel rising and falling, condensing and making a cloud....and then binary coding for computers (ever wonder what 100101010010001011101010 means?). It's like those connecting maps you make of where an airline flies. Some connect from major hubs, some connect from outlying airports...but pathways get put in. Turns out that's also how our neural network looks. Read a book about that last summer. Anyway, that's how I feel tying in information from math and GIS into computers and math into Meteorology and physics and chemistry, and so on.
Today, sitting at my desk and staring at my weather monitor again (see the long post from yesterday), it didn't make any sense to me that my weather station was right on with all the data of the more expensive weather station, with the exception of atmospheric pressure. I'm not close enough to a window to just sit and stare out of that, so I stare at my weather monitor. My atmospheric pressure has been consistently showing somewhere between 5-6 hPa off from what our weather observatory is posting on SJSU's Meteorology Website. When I looked closely at the website, the website reports it in "Sea Level Pressure". But the observatory is not at sea level, it's at 227 ft above sea level. How were they getting sea level data from a rooftop observatory? And if it was 1009 hPa at sea level, would it then make sense that mine, not accounting for a change in elevation, would read pressure at that point to be 1004 hPa?
Hmmm. I looked around the grad room. Everyone was wearing headphones. They looked busy, doing crazy calculations and trying to figure out why they can't get the Air Pollution section right from Atmospheric Dynamics class. Maybe I can go find a professor. No, don't go bugging the professors. They'll wonder why you didn't ask a room of grad students. It was about time for me to go to class so I packed up my stuff and slowly wandered out of the room.
On my way out, I said hi to one of the guys sitting at his desk. He looked up and we exchanged pleasantries. This opened it up for discussion. I brought up the question of our department posting pressure as "Sea Level Pressure" and he confirmed that there were codes in order to make a distinction between the actual pressure at your instrument and what that same air parcel (or column of air parcels rather) would weigh if your instrument was at zero feet. This is important for a few reasons, but none of you probably want to know why, so I'll move on.
How much difference then should I expect (under the same exact atmospheric conditions) there to be between the pressure at zero feet and the pressure at 227 ft? And no, it's not linear.(But did you know that dry air weighs more than wet/saturated air? Chew on that.)
At that time a professor walked in and the other grad student dragged him into the discussion. After a lengthy exchange which I mostly did not understand, it came out to a few key points. Number one, the coding involved in getting a computer to make the adjustments for sea level pressure is incredibly lengthy (not just something you do on your calculator with a formula). Number two, different areas (Denver as opposed to San Jose) use different calculations, but they cannot change those calculations because they would totally invalidate any existing weather data or there would have to be weird public documents annexed somewhere to make sure the entire world knew the exact date and time that Denver decided to change their calculations (which really makes me wonder how accurate any of this is if no one is using the same calculations).
And most importantly, number 3. So the difference in data collected between two points at about 227 ft apart (in elevation) should be around 4 or 5 hPa. No shit! So my little weather station is totally accurate! Sweet!
Then I went off into my GIS (Geographical Information Systems) class where we're learning to do crazy data things with maps and geographical information and my brain went...Whhaaa???
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Catching up
It's been a little over a week since I last wrote and a lot has happened in that time so I figured I'd get caught up...mostly since I have a lot of studying to do and am not ready to focus on it. I don't even know where to start, so I'll just start with my most recent happening....the banana slicer.
One of the many cool gifts my aunt and uncle got me for Christmas was a banana slicer. I eat a lot of bananas but usually it's straight out of my lunch box or shoved into a blender. This morning however, I was tired of having oatmeal for breakfast and decided on yogurt with blueberries. As I went to prepare it, I saw my bananas, hanging there on their little banana hanger and decided I would add one of those too. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the banana slicer sitting on my cutting board atop the microwave. Hmmm.
I peeled the banana, laid the banana slicer over it and pressed down. As I picked it up, the slices stayed in the slicer. I held it over my bowl of yogurt and easily poked all the pieces out into the bowl. BAM. Sliced bananas in my bowl. I was so excited I had to text my aunt right away. I was nice enough to check my watch first though.
Another cool gift they got me was a personal weather station. I just moved into a tiny apartment in a big city and they're pretty strict about putting things outside and there really wasn't a place where I could put it where it wouldn't get vandalized or stolen. After making a major break-through at my lab, the lab director sent me an email telling me I rock. I responded, "Since I totally rock, can I put the weather station my aunt got me for Christmas up on the roof?" He said I could.
So, one foggy morning I set about assembling and mounting my new weather station.
As it collected data, I compared it to the fancy, expensive equipment already up there. Pretty darn close!
One of the many cool gifts my aunt and uncle got me for Christmas was a banana slicer. I eat a lot of bananas but usually it's straight out of my lunch box or shoved into a blender. This morning however, I was tired of having oatmeal for breakfast and decided on yogurt with blueberries. As I went to prepare it, I saw my bananas, hanging there on their little banana hanger and decided I would add one of those too. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the banana slicer sitting on my cutting board atop the microwave. Hmmm.
(complete with pieces of banana)
I peeled the banana, laid the banana slicer over it and pressed down. As I picked it up, the slices stayed in the slicer. I held it over my bowl of yogurt and easily poked all the pieces out into the bowl. BAM. Sliced bananas in my bowl. I was so excited I had to text my aunt right away. I was nice enough to check my watch first though.
Another cool gift they got me was a personal weather station. I just moved into a tiny apartment in a big city and they're pretty strict about putting things outside and there really wasn't a place where I could put it where it wouldn't get vandalized or stolen. After making a major break-through at my lab, the lab director sent me an email telling me I rock. I responded, "Since I totally rock, can I put the weather station my aunt got me for Christmas up on the roof?" He said I could.
So, one foggy morning I set about assembling and mounting my new weather station.
After getting it all put together, I went up to the lab to figure out how to mount this thing. Since I'm an early bird and most people aren't, I was the only one in the lab. I looked around for tools, selected a few and then headed up to the roof.
There was just no good way to go about this. The instruments up on the roof send data out to the internet and weather agencies...it's serious stuff. I didn't want to block or affect anything up there but was having a really hard time finding a good place to mount it. Since the building is concrete, I needed my weather station in line-of-sight to the window of the grad room (2 stories down). There was an old mount up there not in use that I decided was as close as I could get without having to drill holes in a metal rail. The problem of course, was that my weather station and the old mounting bracket were incompatible. So I used zip ties.
I know, right? Pretty janky. It's supposed to be level by the way. I didn't know what else to do and had to get to class, so I put the tools away and decided it was good enough. At least I had accomplished line of sight.
Apparently the lab director brought a class up to the roof to show them the weather observatory and my weather station was a topic of some discussion. I mean, you can see how terribly it's mounted and it's got a Bass Pro Shop emblem on it. He told me I had to do a better job mounting it and that I could go ahead and drill some holes up there. I was surprised. I'm allowed to drill holes up on the rooftop observatory of a university? Super cool. See, I live here.
So I did. Drilling holes in a metal railing takes quite a bit of time. I should've gotten a pic of it when it was done but when I finally brought my camera back with me to school, it was raining. I don't really need to be on the roof in the rain. I'll get a pic eventually. Anyway, it looks great.
The receiver sits on my desk in the grad room and I stare at it while I'm suppose to be studying. I set the atmospheric pressure to hecto-pascals (hPa) instead of inches of mercury (in.Hg) to ready myself for the technical meteorology world. I sit and watch the changes in pressure and temperature and watch to see if the wind gusts beat out the high from the last 90 seconds. Yesterday I changed the temperature to Celsius so I can start relating to that as well. A lot of times in meteorology they talk in terms of Celsius since that's what the rest of the world uses. In a lab discussion earlier this week I was totally lost since I really don't think in Celsius.
While pretending to study for my meteorology exam yesterday, I stared at the receiver trying to relate to Celsius. I came to this conclusion: when it is 21 C in the room, I am unable to decide whether or not to wear my jacket. Outside in the rain and wind, it was 19 C. So in 19 C with wind and rain, I would definitely have to wear a coat (Temperature gauges are unable to measure wind chill. Wind chill is a perceived temperature.) but would not freeze. Also, normal sea level atmospheric pressure is 1013.25 hPa. Yesterday while "studying" for meteorology, it got down to 1004 hPa. High pressure generally brings good weather, while lows generally bring "bad weather". It was rainy yesterday, very windy. The highest gust while I was sitting there was 22 mph. I have yet to adjust that to meters/sec as that's a whole 'nother adjustment for my brain.
So there's that. Also, I have torn my hamstring....surfing. Grade 2, bordering on a grade 1. What does all that mean? It means while I have suffered an actual tear in my muscle, it was not totally separated, which would have been really bad. The doc said he would've given me a cane to walk with but that he thought I'd be feeling better (at least well enough to walk) in just a few days. I was a little skeptical since walking was extremely difficult and painful, but he was right. The first two days were awful and I wasn't able to tolerate much other than sitting on the couch with an ice pack.
On the third morning I got up and did some very light stretching of the hamstring and then heavier stretching of my hip muscles that were all spasming trying to protect the hamstring. That helped with walking immensely. Today is day 9 post-injury and it's coming along very well. I am now able to walk fairly normally but with a shortened stride. No speed-walking to class, that's for sure. I also have gotten on the stationary bicycle two days in a row now (and twice yesterday) at a very low level and it actually made it feel better, not worse. Next week I'll try a slow, shuffling jog. One of my main limiting factors right now is my range of motion, and the reach of my extended leg is not that far, so an actual running stance, or even a speed-walk stride would be a terrible idea right now. The other limiting factor is my ability to tolerate what's called an eccentric stretch. Basically a stretch under a load, like my body weight. The hamstring endures a lot of stretching under load (heel strike during a run for example). So it's contracting while being "pulled apart". Imagine doing that to a rubber band. It's one of the main reasons the hamstring is injured so often in sports. Right now, stretching my hamstrings while standing (bending over and reaching for toes) isn't tolerable, but a seated stretch is. The seated stretch is a pure stretch, not having to support the load of my body.
Little Charlotte celebrated her first birthday on February 21st, so I flew down to San Diego to celebrate it.
She's walking (running) now and saying a few words. Unlike with Emily, I haven't been around her constantly so she experiences a bit of "stranger danger" with me whenever I go see her again. By the time she adjusts to me, it's time for me to go home. It's pretty sad to have her not recognize me like Emily did at that age. I hope I can be around her enough that she'll learn to recognize me more.
On the night of her birthday, we had a small cake and let her tear it apart. It was so adorable. She annihilated that cake.
We cut a slice off for dad, and then Charlotte, mom, and I gathered together to do some damage. It was delicious cake.
The next day we had a bigger party at Lake Murray and friends and extended family showed up.
Halfway through the day, I switched to taking photos with Candace's camera so they could have photos of the day, so that's about all I have for that one. It was good to be home again in San Diego and I can't wait until I'm back down there for good.
Saturday, February 15, 2014
The Half Marathon
My training plan for Boston included running a half marathon to see where I'm at and to get my race legs going. I had a few options to choose from: The Lost Dutchman Half in Apache Junction, AZ which my aunt and uncle would've appreciated, The Bay Breeze on the east bay and Zombie Runner in San Francisco. I didn't feel much like doing a traveling Half with classes and everything going on, so that left the super flat course in east bay or Zombie Runner in San Francisco. I figured since Boston has hills, I should probably stay away from the flat course.
I guess I didn't do my homework very well on the Zombie Runner Half. I skimmed the details, decided it wouldn't be such a big deal, and signed up. I hoped to run a personal record (PR) and get under 1:40.
I guess I didn't do my homework very well on the Zombie Runner Half. I skimmed the details, decided it wouldn't be such a big deal, and signed up. I hoped to run a personal record (PR) and get under 1:40.
Do you see how steep those hills are? And how many of them there are? Because I didn't. This is the race course elevation profile. I guess I saw the 300 ft mark and decided that a 300 ft increase in elevation wasn't that big of a deal. Somehow I failed to notice the steepness. What happened? I may never know.
What doesn't show up on that elevation chart is that each one of those sharp increases is a long, steep set of stairs. That's right, stairs. It was a trail run (which I also didn't realize) and there were stairs built into the hillsides.
It was dark when I got there to check in and collect my bib number and t-shirt. Of course the start was in a flat area and I had been thinking about what I wanted to try for for my pace. I decided the whole point in having a race in the middle of my training plan is to go hard and see what I could do, so I decided to do just that.
At the start, a group of us took off ahead of the main crowd. I noticed I was the only girl in the front group and it remained that way for the two flat loops around the lagoon. After two loops, we headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge. I was pushing pretty hard because, what hills? As we neared the bridge, we turned up a ramp....and then right onto a long steep flight of stairs. Sweet Jesus. I passed a couple people on the stairs because, gee, this must be pretty much the only hill. I fell in next to Orange Shirt (a guy, they were all guys at this point).
(First set of stairs-photo from a previous year)
Orange Shirt and I jockeyed around for miles, with the lead group ahead of us a little and the main crowd far behind. We took a downhill under the bridge and then back up more stairs and along the road a ways. I looked out towards the large rocks out by a point in the ocean. We veered off the road and down an incredibly steep flight of stairs.
Orange Shirt took a lead on me after awhile and I tried to push back the fatigue. As I came around the corner, I saw our pink flagging along a small trail in front of me, but Orange Shirt and White Shirt (who kept stopping to take photos) had turned left at the road. I faltered a second and decided to take the trail. It was soft sand. As I popped out, I was greeted by ladies at the aid station, who said I took the right way, the guys had gone the wrong way. I took a GU and two small cups of water. Off we went.
We ran along another section of soft sand and then up some more stairs toward a road. We stopped and looked around when we lost sight of flagging, but then saw it again and headed up the long, winding road. White Shirt disappeared somewhere at this point. He either fell back or forged on ahead of us, but Orange Shirt and I continued to yo yo back and forth between who was taking the lead. I was getting nauseous so I let him pull ahead of me a few feet.
We dove back onto the trail and around some old ruins of bath houses or something. It flattened out a little so I opened up my stride. I started gaining on Orange Shirt again who was gaining on White Shirt. There was a Blue Shirt in there somewhere too.
And then...MORE STAIRS! What the hell? I muttered under my breath. The next several miles were nothing but upstairs and downstairs, it was crazy. It's this gorgeous trail that meanders from the bay out along the ocean with lots of green and trees....but my god I don't think it was built for crazy people to actually run it.
I conjured up a picture in my head of the elevation chart and decided that must be the end of the uphills and it is all downhill from here. See...definitely failed to study the picture. I came around a corner to meet with a steep drop down a bunch of stairs where I could already see Blue Shirt running up the next set. Ignoring the sound of footsteps behind me, I swore out loud. This is like the Great Wall of China!
(Another photo from a previous year...different set of stairs)
By now I was thinking I might not PR on this course.
Up ahead, the lead runner was coming at me. What?!! We have to go back the same way?
I don't know people. Usually I study the course like you wouldn't believe. I know where all the water breaks are, what sort of electrolyte beverage they're serving, the mile markers for all the major hills...I just can't tell you where all of this went wrong. And then I wondered, how far can mental toughness alone take you? I decided I had already gone too fast to hope for some splendidly paced run. But I was trailing just behind the lead group of guys and still had yet to be passed by a woman who had been smart enough to pace herself better than I had.
By the way, the other day I was looking at last year's results and saw how "slow" the times were. I could place in this thing! Why are they all so slow? Because this is an obstacle course from hell! This is definitely not somewhere you go to PR.
I turned down another long, winding steep hill and the guys on the way up kept saying "good job" and "nice run". It occurred to me: I held the lead on the women. I took a cup of water and a cup of electrolyte drink at the bottom of the hill and started back up. I heard a noise above me and saw the second place female coming down. "Good job!" she said. Not far behind her were a couple more girls, all of them giving encouragement. One said something about way to keep up with the guys. Holy crap I'm in first...and I'm dying.
I've never been that girl. I've seen them at my races, when you see the really fast guys blow by you one after the other, heading back in the opposite direction toward the finish. And then you see that one girl. The one girl that's hanging in there with the lead guys. And then quite a few more guys will go by before you see the next girl. For the first time...I was that one girl. People started shouting at me "You're the first female!" "First girl!" Everyone would grin when they saw me because they knew. A few people held up their index finger as I passed, too breathless to say a word, number one. It was the strangest feeling.
This continued on for several miles as I ran by the main crowd on my way back towards the finish line. I kept wondering how I was going to endure going through all those stairs again. A group of girls coming at me started screaming and cheering me on, like I was representing women everywhere. I smiled and waved and the guys in the group gave me the thumbs up. I kid you not, I got goosebumps all over. Well now what? If you fall out, you let all those people down. No stopping to poop, no bonking, you're going to have to hold the lead.
It was weird that I suddenly felt so obligated to not let these people down. I wondered how far back that second girl was. Orange Shirt had taken quite a lead on me, but Blue Shirt was up ahead about to hit the worst set of stairs on the entire course. He stopped to walk. I bounced past him until my quads seized up, and then just tried to maintain something of a stride. Up at the top, Orange Shirt stopped to walk. I pressed on.
As I got to the top of the stairs, the road was only a slight hill, so I tried to stride out. Orange Shirt was running again. We started passing the 10K runners who had started after us and already turned around. One guy shouted "That was the last hill, it's all downhill from here!" "Thanks!" I shouted, although I knew better. There was one more, albeit shorter and less steep as we came out from under the Golden Gate Bridge again.
By now the public was out and about, and this was not a closed course. I nearly ran a guy over on a sharp turn and nearly missed the course. 2 miles left, and it's all downhill and then flat. I kicked it into gear, passing the 10K runners, shouting "On your left!" or "On your right!".
Back to the initial stairs. I tried to take them down as fast as possible. I got to the bottom and two course volunteers pointed me to where the trail started back again on the other side of the road. "Thank you!" I yelled. At the entrance to the trail, a group of cyclists where just getting started on their ride. One was mounting up and starting to pedal but talking to his buddies. He didn't see me and his trajectory was going to collide with mine. I was not going to slow down at this point.
"HUP HUP HUP!!!!" I yelled as I rounded his front tire, putting my arm out to keep him from hitting me.
"Look out!" "Oh shit, she's in a race!"
I peeled around the corner and headed out onto the flat. Maybe too fast. Nausea was taking over and I was spending more time with my eyes closed than open. I just wanted to puke. Less than a mile to go, Orange Shirt was barely visible...Blue Shirt was still somewhere back behind me, and not a single woman had caught up to me.
I just need to finish! Like always, my drive to be done and able to stop was battling with my need to slow down. The trail narrowed and people blocked my way, including a woman on crutches. Crap. I started yelling early. "On your right! On your right!" I flew by them and saw a couple with a stroller up ahead. "On your left!" "Sheesh!" I heard someone say.
I flew around the last sharp corner before the finish line, taking it wide around another stroller, but then had to jump some rocks to get back into the finish chute. I crossed the finish line at a 1:45.46. Not a PR, but had I known what the course entailed, I would not have expected one.
A volunteer handed me my finisher's medal and I started to stop running. Keep moving. I told myself. You ran 15 miles last weekend, you can run another half mile. I slowed to a jog and jogged around some picnic tables for a couple minutes, then went and mingled with the other runners around the snack/beverage table.
Everyone was congratulating me on the run, making sure I knew I was first. We joked about the hills and shoved food into our mouths. I jogged a little more and walked a little. The second place girl came in and we chatted awhile.
As results poured in, the race director handed out awards. Since I was first overall for women, I got a ceramic coaster, as well as a medal for being first in my age group/division (females 30-39) and everyone gets a finishers medal. I don't know for sure, but I finished overall/overall (guys and girls) 15th out of 208.
Everyone had seen my face and knew I was the first female to finish, so people kept coming up and talking to me. It was such a weird experience.
I might even do it next year...but I'll be sure to get some hill training in before hand.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
OMG Strava
I'm new to Strava. Just learning my way around. It's a social tracking device for runners and cyclists. Kinda weird. But anyway, you can click on someone and see what they've been up to, how fast they're running, and such. You can see my running achievements of the week in the little box to the right. If you click on it I think you can see my cycling achievements as well. And just when you think you've had an awesome run, Strava let's you know that someone else has run that same route faster than you. It's pretty neat. I like things like that that make my workouts a little more fun.
Anyway, so a buddy of mine recently decided to "follow" me. I guess like you would on Twitter or Blog, except I've never "followed" a blog and I don't have Twitter. You're welcome by the way. I got an email that said congratulations, so and so has decided to follow you on Strava. "Nice!"
Thought that was kind of funny. So I "followed" him back. I also decided to find one of the girls from the cycling club and "follow" her. My cycling club has it's own little Strava group, and you can go find other club members on it. So I found her and requested to follow her. See, I guess since my friend is on my facebook list of friends, he can follow me without asking permission. But since this girl is not on my facebook, I need permission to stalk..I mean follow..her.
I just got an email from Strava.
"Hey Carrie,
Whoa, you're kind of a big deal! C** is now following you on Strava. Click to follow C** back. Let's show her what you can do.
Go get 'em.
-Your friends at Strava.
Nice. I'm being followed by two people and now I'm a big deal!
Anyway, so a buddy of mine recently decided to "follow" me. I guess like you would on Twitter or Blog, except I've never "followed" a blog and I don't have Twitter. You're welcome by the way. I got an email that said congratulations, so and so has decided to follow you on Strava. "Nice!"
Thought that was kind of funny. So I "followed" him back. I also decided to find one of the girls from the cycling club and "follow" her. My cycling club has it's own little Strava group, and you can go find other club members on it. So I found her and requested to follow her. See, I guess since my friend is on my facebook list of friends, he can follow me without asking permission. But since this girl is not on my facebook, I need permission to stalk..I mean follow..her.
I just got an email from Strava.
"Hey Carrie,
Whoa, you're kind of a big deal! C** is now following you on Strava. Click to follow C** back. Let's show her what you can do.
Go get 'em.
-Your friends at Strava.
Nice. I'm being followed by two people and now I'm a big deal!
Bike and Run (not a brick)
Today I had a short 4 mile run on tap, but my boss cancelled our lab meeting because "it's a powder day". So him and the PhD in the group had a ski day, which left my day completely open. I decided to hit a ride with ACTC since opportunities can become scarce sometimes. Once again, 1 pint of beer knocked me over last night so I was slow to get moving this morning. The ideal situation would've been to get my 4 mile run out of the way before the ride so I didn't have to think about it the rest of the day. Since I didn't have my crap together this morning, that was out of the question.
This morning's ride list was a little on the leisure side, which was fine with me since I had a run to do anyway. However....I'm still learning my way around the classification system as this is only my third ride with the club. Rides are categorized in several ways. First, it's either a billy goat, mountain goat, or grizzly. I've only done grizzlies. Grizzlies are special rides that are usually flat. Billy Goats are hilly and Mountain Goats are mountain bike rides.
Rides are also classified under what pace the group maintains and whether they'll stop and wait for you or drop you like a bad habit. Paces are put into groups, of L (leisurely), LM (leisurely to moderate), M (moderate), and then it gets into the crazies with MB, B and S. We won't delve into those quite yet because I haven't done any of those last 3. My first ride with the club was an M (hey, I'm nothing if not brave) which went very well. My second ride was an L, but there was apricot french toast involved, so I didn't hesitate to drop down a couple levels. Today I was given a choice of 4 different LM's, a 54 mile M or a crazy hill ride. I guess I wasn't paying much attention because they were all pretty much hill rides.
Which brings me to the last classification level. The numbers. From 1-6, 1's are basically flat, 6's are basically Mt. Everest. I've done a 2M and a 1L. So I figured today's 4LM would be a good fit, and it was 29 miles, so I was good with that too. It would at least be a good intro into Billy Goats, which made me pretty nervous considering I never really went out of my way to find hills to ride in Montague.
The start of the ride was 8 miles from my place, so I loaded my bike onto the rack and drove to the start. I was cutting it pretty close, so a few people that were already there watched me pull up and hop out in tights, a jacket and fuzzy slippers. I changed into my cleats and slipped cleat covers on, put on my gloves and clacked over to the group. It was pretty cold and drizzly at the start, still socked in by the morning fog. I was beginning to wish I had worn my beanie. We had some short introductions since I was the new guy, and we were off.
I noticed that everyone wore clipless pedals of some kind. Most were road shoes, a couple were mountain bike shoes. Everyone wore long tights and full fingered gloves. I was fitting in ok. The pace was a nice leisurely pace that allowed me a little time to look around without crashing. After a little ways I wondered if these people ever had to pee. We had peed at the start, but I had to go again. Too much coffee? Too much water? I don't know, but since I had no idea where we were or where we were going, I wasn't going to peel off to go.
We passed a couple parks with bathrooms and I started eyeing them. One of the guys fell back, muttering "What do I have to do, piss my pants before she stops?" I laughed as I passed him. Yep, I guess others had to go too. We waited for him to catch up and then ended up stopping at the next park for a break. One of the guys asked me if I've been doing any hills lately. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. A few of the guys started removing layers since we'd be climbing soon. I was keeping mine on. I was still pretty cold.
While the overall physical fitness of the group put me up near the top, and the general pace was a fairly easy one, nothing really makes the hills easier. Short of being able to draft off some one, you're on your own with the hills. That's your own little demon to conquer.
The leader dropped to the back of the group in preparation for the hill. My thinking was she was doing it to make sure I (the new guy) didn't fall behind too much and get lost. I fell in line second to last. As I got up onto the tire of the guy in front of me, I shifted into an easier gear. Several of the guys had slowed considerably. I was faced with a choice. The road ahead curved so I was unable to see how long the hill was going to last, but with the reduction in pace I was guessing it was going to be long. I was thinking it wise to stay with the main group so they wouldn't laugh at me when they passed me up after I had burned myself out. But then the group got too slow and I was unable to hold my cadence. I was going to fall over.
I went ahead and passed, thinking it was a terrible idea and I was going to regret it. I passed three of the guys and focused on the one guy left ahead. As my legs began to burn, I shifted again to an easier gear. I leaned over my handlebars with an occasional glance ahead to look for hazards and anything that signaled the end of the hill. It reminded me of a Sufferfest video I had gotten to help ease the boredom of training indoors. "I've seen you there. When your shoulders drop. When you fix on that wheel in front of you. When you whimper....." Oh the agony.
Up ahead the lead guy pulled over to wait for the rest of the group. I pulled up beside him and unclipped.
"That's impressive" he commented, about my ability to get up ahead of the group. Thank god. I thought.He looked at my chain and commented on how it was even more impressive what gear I made it up in. I told him I had just shifted back up again. He asked about the size of my cassette, I thought he was counting gears. I don't know bike lingo. I'm beginning to learn the language. I listened to him spit out some numbers while I just said I didn't know.
The other guys started to join us and pulled over while we waited for the leader. Ahh. That's why she fell to the back. She caught up and we carried on.
Next hill. By now I had unzipped my jacket a little, but the sun was coming out. Too late. No more adjustments, we've got ourselves a hill. I pulled up behind the lead guy again and tried to find my gear. It was messy. Finally I got settled in and put my head down. "I've seen you there. When your shoulders drop..." I tucked my head close to my handlebars and watched my shadow curl up in the fetal position. Looks about right.
I mashed through my gears again, the fatigue starting to get to my brain. My legs and lungs burned. The lead guy was up ahead by not too much, but there was no way I was catching him. The rest of the group was far behind. I tried to shift into an easier gear and it wouldn't go. I tried again. SHIFT!!!! My brain was screaming. I looked between my knees at the rear cassette, trying to see if I was in the last gear. I was. I looked at the front chain rings. I've got two on this bike and I was in the smaller one. And it was at this point in time, deeply embedded in an ocean of mental and physical anguish, that I completely forgot what that means.
Big rings, small rings. Cogs, cassettes, derailleurs, chainrings. God, I just don't know. At one point I had this all figured out. That went out the window. I yearned for an easier gear. I eyed the front chainrings. Is bigger or smaller easier? Well look at the back, they're opposites. I tried to look back and lost my balance and went all over the road. Man I hope they can't see me. I was in the largest ring in the back...the smallest in the front. I knew for a fact I was shifting in the right direction on that rear set. This doesn't make any sense! Why would it be easier to be in the larger ring in the back? Well Carrie, why would it be easier to be in the larger ring in the front? It probably would not.
I put my head down and focused on ensuring a smooth circular motion with my stroke. Eventually the hill started to level out and I decided to try shifting the front chain ring. While I may be a total idiot after fatigue takes over, thankfully my bike is not. Today I decided that Ruby is my "SmartBike". You people may have smartphones, but I have a smartbike and that means all the world to me. Because had I been able to shift, it would've been a disaster. Thankfully the angle of the chain at that point would not even allow for shifting and I gave up and parked next to the lead rider.
He looked over at me. "If you're able to do that, you're ready for a lot more than this."
I laughed. If only he knew my battle. I swallowed my pride. "Oh my god, ok, let's talk about gears." I realize at this point I should probably know a little bit about bike gears, but I don't know. I just shift until it feels right. Turned out I was correct in assuming I was completely in the lowest gear possible. Apparently I just need to work on those goat legs. He didn't say that though, he was impressed, especially considering my lack of hill training.
After the other guys caught up, everyone had to compare the size of their cogs while we waited for the ride leader to catch up. While I listened to their discussion and tried to figure out what they were talking about, I looked around at everyone's cogs and realized, to my surprise, that mine was actually larger than everyone's there. Hmmm. I kept my mouth shut. It's pretty cool to ride with the club because I'm learning so much about bike handling and gear. I've been looking at everyone's mirrors and don't really like the kind that slip onto your helmet or side of your bike. One of the guys had one today that clips onto his sunglasses and it's quite small. He said I had to figure out which one works for me though since sometimes it can make people dizzy. I can imagine.
After the leader caught up, we took off downhill. I was definitely in the back on this one, riding the brakes while everyone else picked up speed. My max speed was 36 mph, I'm guessing the others were going over 40. I can't imagine crashing at that speed.
We stopped for coffee and bagels and I got yet another awesome hint. One of the guys had the same pedals that I had, which requires a little more care with the cleats on our shoes. I got some simple "coffee shop" covers that I slip onto the metal cleats before going inside somewhere or walking more than a few steps. I was telling the group how on one of my rides I had forgotten to remove them and couldn't figure out why I couldn't clip in. Meanwhile the group had left me in the dust. The guy flipped his foot up at me and said, "That's why you need these". They were awesome! They were cleat covers like mine except that they left the hole for the pedal open. So there's no taking covers on and off, you just leave them in place. I have got to get me some of those.
We finished the ride and I headed home...to run my 4 miler. Oh how I did not want to go for a run. I was tired and hungry and just wanted to sit and eat. Well m'lady, that ride was optional, this run is not. Get out there. I changed into running clothes, switched my Garmin over to run mode and headed out the door, muttering profanities.
I know that come time to start training for triathlons, I will have to do "brick" workouts where I go for a bike ride and then immediately go for a run. I had a significant amount of time between the two today, but still my body was repulsed at the notion of driving my legs into the ground after a 29 mile hill ride. I started out walking, and then started to jog. Oh the profanity that came out then. This was going to be miserable. Man was I tired.
I managed to finish with a decent time and immediately began stuffing my mouth upon entering my apartment. It was one of those times when I could not get nutrition into my blood stream fast enough. I just started shoveling food in as fast as I could.
Now I need to study...but I think I'll have a hot soak in the tub first...then more food.
This morning's ride list was a little on the leisure side, which was fine with me since I had a run to do anyway. However....I'm still learning my way around the classification system as this is only my third ride with the club. Rides are categorized in several ways. First, it's either a billy goat, mountain goat, or grizzly. I've only done grizzlies. Grizzlies are special rides that are usually flat. Billy Goats are hilly and Mountain Goats are mountain bike rides.
Rides are also classified under what pace the group maintains and whether they'll stop and wait for you or drop you like a bad habit. Paces are put into groups, of L (leisurely), LM (leisurely to moderate), M (moderate), and then it gets into the crazies with MB, B and S. We won't delve into those quite yet because I haven't done any of those last 3. My first ride with the club was an M (hey, I'm nothing if not brave) which went very well. My second ride was an L, but there was apricot french toast involved, so I didn't hesitate to drop down a couple levels. Today I was given a choice of 4 different LM's, a 54 mile M or a crazy hill ride. I guess I wasn't paying much attention because they were all pretty much hill rides.
Which brings me to the last classification level. The numbers. From 1-6, 1's are basically flat, 6's are basically Mt. Everest. I've done a 2M and a 1L. So I figured today's 4LM would be a good fit, and it was 29 miles, so I was good with that too. It would at least be a good intro into Billy Goats, which made me pretty nervous considering I never really went out of my way to find hills to ride in Montague.
The start of the ride was 8 miles from my place, so I loaded my bike onto the rack and drove to the start. I was cutting it pretty close, so a few people that were already there watched me pull up and hop out in tights, a jacket and fuzzy slippers. I changed into my cleats and slipped cleat covers on, put on my gloves and clacked over to the group. It was pretty cold and drizzly at the start, still socked in by the morning fog. I was beginning to wish I had worn my beanie. We had some short introductions since I was the new guy, and we were off.
I noticed that everyone wore clipless pedals of some kind. Most were road shoes, a couple were mountain bike shoes. Everyone wore long tights and full fingered gloves. I was fitting in ok. The pace was a nice leisurely pace that allowed me a little time to look around without crashing. After a little ways I wondered if these people ever had to pee. We had peed at the start, but I had to go again. Too much coffee? Too much water? I don't know, but since I had no idea where we were or where we were going, I wasn't going to peel off to go.
We passed a couple parks with bathrooms and I started eyeing them. One of the guys fell back, muttering "What do I have to do, piss my pants before she stops?" I laughed as I passed him. Yep, I guess others had to go too. We waited for him to catch up and then ended up stopping at the next park for a break. One of the guys asked me if I've been doing any hills lately. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. A few of the guys started removing layers since we'd be climbing soon. I was keeping mine on. I was still pretty cold.
While the overall physical fitness of the group put me up near the top, and the general pace was a fairly easy one, nothing really makes the hills easier. Short of being able to draft off some one, you're on your own with the hills. That's your own little demon to conquer.
The leader dropped to the back of the group in preparation for the hill. My thinking was she was doing it to make sure I (the new guy) didn't fall behind too much and get lost. I fell in line second to last. As I got up onto the tire of the guy in front of me, I shifted into an easier gear. Several of the guys had slowed considerably. I was faced with a choice. The road ahead curved so I was unable to see how long the hill was going to last, but with the reduction in pace I was guessing it was going to be long. I was thinking it wise to stay with the main group so they wouldn't laugh at me when they passed me up after I had burned myself out. But then the group got too slow and I was unable to hold my cadence. I was going to fall over.
I went ahead and passed, thinking it was a terrible idea and I was going to regret it. I passed three of the guys and focused on the one guy left ahead. As my legs began to burn, I shifted again to an easier gear. I leaned over my handlebars with an occasional glance ahead to look for hazards and anything that signaled the end of the hill. It reminded me of a Sufferfest video I had gotten to help ease the boredom of training indoors. "I've seen you there. When your shoulders drop. When you fix on that wheel in front of you. When you whimper....." Oh the agony.
Up ahead the lead guy pulled over to wait for the rest of the group. I pulled up beside him and unclipped.
"That's impressive" he commented, about my ability to get up ahead of the group. Thank god. I thought.He looked at my chain and commented on how it was even more impressive what gear I made it up in. I told him I had just shifted back up again. He asked about the size of my cassette, I thought he was counting gears. I don't know bike lingo. I'm beginning to learn the language. I listened to him spit out some numbers while I just said I didn't know.
The other guys started to join us and pulled over while we waited for the leader. Ahh. That's why she fell to the back. She caught up and we carried on.
Next hill. By now I had unzipped my jacket a little, but the sun was coming out. Too late. No more adjustments, we've got ourselves a hill. I pulled up behind the lead guy again and tried to find my gear. It was messy. Finally I got settled in and put my head down. "I've seen you there. When your shoulders drop..." I tucked my head close to my handlebars and watched my shadow curl up in the fetal position. Looks about right.
I mashed through my gears again, the fatigue starting to get to my brain. My legs and lungs burned. The lead guy was up ahead by not too much, but there was no way I was catching him. The rest of the group was far behind. I tried to shift into an easier gear and it wouldn't go. I tried again. SHIFT!!!! My brain was screaming. I looked between my knees at the rear cassette, trying to see if I was in the last gear. I was. I looked at the front chain rings. I've got two on this bike and I was in the smaller one. And it was at this point in time, deeply embedded in an ocean of mental and physical anguish, that I completely forgot what that means.
Big rings, small rings. Cogs, cassettes, derailleurs, chainrings. God, I just don't know. At one point I had this all figured out. That went out the window. I yearned for an easier gear. I eyed the front chainrings. Is bigger or smaller easier? Well look at the back, they're opposites. I tried to look back and lost my balance and went all over the road. Man I hope they can't see me. I was in the largest ring in the back...the smallest in the front. I knew for a fact I was shifting in the right direction on that rear set. This doesn't make any sense! Why would it be easier to be in the larger ring in the back? Well Carrie, why would it be easier to be in the larger ring in the front? It probably would not.
I put my head down and focused on ensuring a smooth circular motion with my stroke. Eventually the hill started to level out and I decided to try shifting the front chain ring. While I may be a total idiot after fatigue takes over, thankfully my bike is not. Today I decided that Ruby is my "SmartBike". You people may have smartphones, but I have a smartbike and that means all the world to me. Because had I been able to shift, it would've been a disaster. Thankfully the angle of the chain at that point would not even allow for shifting and I gave up and parked next to the lead rider.
He looked over at me. "If you're able to do that, you're ready for a lot more than this."
I laughed. If only he knew my battle. I swallowed my pride. "Oh my god, ok, let's talk about gears." I realize at this point I should probably know a little bit about bike gears, but I don't know. I just shift until it feels right. Turned out I was correct in assuming I was completely in the lowest gear possible. Apparently I just need to work on those goat legs. He didn't say that though, he was impressed, especially considering my lack of hill training.
After the other guys caught up, everyone had to compare the size of their cogs while we waited for the ride leader to catch up. While I listened to their discussion and tried to figure out what they were talking about, I looked around at everyone's cogs and realized, to my surprise, that mine was actually larger than everyone's there. Hmmm. I kept my mouth shut. It's pretty cool to ride with the club because I'm learning so much about bike handling and gear. I've been looking at everyone's mirrors and don't really like the kind that slip onto your helmet or side of your bike. One of the guys had one today that clips onto his sunglasses and it's quite small. He said I had to figure out which one works for me though since sometimes it can make people dizzy. I can imagine.
After the leader caught up, we took off downhill. I was definitely in the back on this one, riding the brakes while everyone else picked up speed. My max speed was 36 mph, I'm guessing the others were going over 40. I can't imagine crashing at that speed.
We stopped for coffee and bagels and I got yet another awesome hint. One of the guys had the same pedals that I had, which requires a little more care with the cleats on our shoes. I got some simple "coffee shop" covers that I slip onto the metal cleats before going inside somewhere or walking more than a few steps. I was telling the group how on one of my rides I had forgotten to remove them and couldn't figure out why I couldn't clip in. Meanwhile the group had left me in the dust. The guy flipped his foot up at me and said, "That's why you need these". They were awesome! They were cleat covers like mine except that they left the hole for the pedal open. So there's no taking covers on and off, you just leave them in place. I have got to get me some of those.
We finished the ride and I headed home...to run my 4 miler. Oh how I did not want to go for a run. I was tired and hungry and just wanted to sit and eat. Well m'lady, that ride was optional, this run is not. Get out there. I changed into running clothes, switched my Garmin over to run mode and headed out the door, muttering profanities.
I know that come time to start training for triathlons, I will have to do "brick" workouts where I go for a bike ride and then immediately go for a run. I had a significant amount of time between the two today, but still my body was repulsed at the notion of driving my legs into the ground after a 29 mile hill ride. I started out walking, and then started to jog. Oh the profanity that came out then. This was going to be miserable. Man was I tired.
I managed to finish with a decent time and immediately began stuffing my mouth upon entering my apartment. It was one of those times when I could not get nutrition into my blood stream fast enough. I just started shoveling food in as fast as I could.
Now I need to study...but I think I'll have a hot soak in the tub first...then more food.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Cream- A Story of Love and Tragedy.
My apologies if this is too much information, but Mondays and PMS just don't gel. Get over it people, it's nature.
I woke up this morning hating everything. Hated my puffy, wrinkling face, my hair that, although straightened last night, was getting everywhere. My arm was bugging me (see surgery from 2009) and didn't want anything to do with any article of clothing I put on. Nothing I put on even looked right. I hated that my kitchen now smells like vinegar because I have egg stuck on to a muffin pan from baking eggs stacked with polenta.
I drove to school and quickly began to hate the other drivers, including the idiot in the pickup truck who felt the need to weave around all the speed bumps in the parking structure. I turned on my computer and began to hate it and it's slowness, Google for removing the arrows on the scroll bar, and McAfee for ruining my life. I shut it down and went to class.
Oddly enough, my Pre-Calc lecture on things I already know, calmed me down quite a bit.
Leaving class, I hated everyone again for walking so slow and getting in my way. Relaxed again in Meteorology.
Met with some of the guys from the lab. As I walked in, the director apologized, saying he was just having an "f-word day" meaning he kept dropping the f-word. "Right on! Me too!" I said. Like anyone needs to apologize to me for that.
I had to run to HR up the road a ways to get my exempt status put on my paycheck for social security and medicare. Thank god because no one is helping me pay for my health care and I make $2,000 less each month than what I pay in bills. Of course parking in front of the HR building is metered...and I don't have any change in my vehicle except pennies, mostly because I have to use all my quarters for laundry and my dimes and nickels were used on the last parking meter. I took a chance. HR was at lunch.
I went back to my car to grab a snack, and a guy who had just put money in the parking meter, drove off. I pulled forward into his spot. I got out to try the HR people again and checked the meter. 6 minutes. They better be in.
They were. Took care of business and decided I was deserving of trying out the new ice cream place in town "Cream". Cream is a shop that makes homemade cookies and homemade ice cream, and then makes an ice cream sandwich with them. You choose the flavors and if you want any toppings. I would have gone earlier, but it's downtown. I do not frequent downtown unless I have to. It would be like going to downtown San Diego when you could just go someplace else in San Diego for the same thing. You really just don't. Unless you have to.
Actually downtown is right next to campus, and I could've walked. But I had already given up my parking spot and there was no way I was getting parking on campus at 1pm. How bad could it be?
Well, remember I had no change for meters? Right. So I paid $2.50 to park in a parking garage. Breathe Carrie. You will soon be eating a homemade ice cream sandwich made with homemade cookies and homemade ice cream.
I walked out of the garage and down the block to Cream. I had brought my camera so I could include some pics in this blog. I had read the menu already, so I had some idea what was there, but hadn't made any decisions. I had heard about this place from some girls at school. Everyone was talking about it.
I ordered double chocolate chip cookies and mint chocolate chip ice cream. The guy asked if I wanted toppings and I eyed the goodies in front of me. This might be overkill, but I ordered crumbled mint choc chips. While trying to stuff my mint chips into my sandwich, the guy broke my cookies and apologized. No big deal. I checked out. $3.25. Nice! I thought. Quarters back for laundry! Then I saw the tip jar. That's how things are these days. I would rather fork over a dollar for a tip, then give up the precious quarters I needed for laundry.
I walked out with my prize. This would've been a good time to take a picture of my sandwich, but I was downtown and there were sketchy people around me. I've got some rules I live by and I'm fairly certain they are what have kept me safe throughout my years of being a small female out and about on her own in sketchy places. One of those things is to not stop and do things such as stand on the sidewalk, pull out your camera and take a photo of your ice cream sandwich when sketchy people are about.
Well....then I was in a dark parking structure attempting to take a photo. By this time I was irritated again and decided to just eat it. It was messy. It probably would not have been had I not gotten the toppings. Otherwise it's just a one handed sandwich. But now it was broken apart and mint chips were everywhere. I wouldn't normally post such horrible photos, but you need to see what I was dealing with here. I'll talk you through what you're seeing.
Totally distracted by this point, I got a little lost and completely forgot that I had to swing by the Post Office. I got home and realized my mistake. I went upstairs to pee and check the damage to my pants. Not too bad. Smudge of chocolate on the left butt cheek, but that's ok. I wet a paper towel and headed downstairs to wipe up the mess and head to the post office.
I woke up this morning hating everything. Hated my puffy, wrinkling face, my hair that, although straightened last night, was getting everywhere. My arm was bugging me (see surgery from 2009) and didn't want anything to do with any article of clothing I put on. Nothing I put on even looked right. I hated that my kitchen now smells like vinegar because I have egg stuck on to a muffin pan from baking eggs stacked with polenta.
I drove to school and quickly began to hate the other drivers, including the idiot in the pickup truck who felt the need to weave around all the speed bumps in the parking structure. I turned on my computer and began to hate it and it's slowness, Google for removing the arrows on the scroll bar, and McAfee for ruining my life. I shut it down and went to class.
Oddly enough, my Pre-Calc lecture on things I already know, calmed me down quite a bit.
Leaving class, I hated everyone again for walking so slow and getting in my way. Relaxed again in Meteorology.
Met with some of the guys from the lab. As I walked in, the director apologized, saying he was just having an "f-word day" meaning he kept dropping the f-word. "Right on! Me too!" I said. Like anyone needs to apologize to me for that.
I had to run to HR up the road a ways to get my exempt status put on my paycheck for social security and medicare. Thank god because no one is helping me pay for my health care and I make $2,000 less each month than what I pay in bills. Of course parking in front of the HR building is metered...and I don't have any change in my vehicle except pennies, mostly because I have to use all my quarters for laundry and my dimes and nickels were used on the last parking meter. I took a chance. HR was at lunch.
I went back to my car to grab a snack, and a guy who had just put money in the parking meter, drove off. I pulled forward into his spot. I got out to try the HR people again and checked the meter. 6 minutes. They better be in.
They were. Took care of business and decided I was deserving of trying out the new ice cream place in town "Cream". Cream is a shop that makes homemade cookies and homemade ice cream, and then makes an ice cream sandwich with them. You choose the flavors and if you want any toppings. I would have gone earlier, but it's downtown. I do not frequent downtown unless I have to. It would be like going to downtown San Diego when you could just go someplace else in San Diego for the same thing. You really just don't. Unless you have to.
Actually downtown is right next to campus, and I could've walked. But I had already given up my parking spot and there was no way I was getting parking on campus at 1pm. How bad could it be?
Well, remember I had no change for meters? Right. So I paid $2.50 to park in a parking garage. Breathe Carrie. You will soon be eating a homemade ice cream sandwich made with homemade cookies and homemade ice cream.
I walked out of the garage and down the block to Cream. I had brought my camera so I could include some pics in this blog. I had read the menu already, so I had some idea what was there, but hadn't made any decisions. I had heard about this place from some girls at school. Everyone was talking about it.
I ordered double chocolate chip cookies and mint chocolate chip ice cream. The guy asked if I wanted toppings and I eyed the goodies in front of me. This might be overkill, but I ordered crumbled mint choc chips. While trying to stuff my mint chips into my sandwich, the guy broke my cookies and apologized. No big deal. I checked out. $3.25. Nice! I thought. Quarters back for laundry! Then I saw the tip jar. That's how things are these days. I would rather fork over a dollar for a tip, then give up the precious quarters I needed for laundry.
I walked out with my prize. This would've been a good time to take a picture of my sandwich, but I was downtown and there were sketchy people around me. I've got some rules I live by and I'm fairly certain they are what have kept me safe throughout my years of being a small female out and about on her own in sketchy places. One of those things is to not stop and do things such as stand on the sidewalk, pull out your camera and take a photo of your ice cream sandwich when sketchy people are about.
Well....then I was in a dark parking structure attempting to take a photo. By this time I was irritated again and decided to just eat it. It was messy. It probably would not have been had I not gotten the toppings. Otherwise it's just a one handed sandwich. But now it was broken apart and mint chips were everywhere. I wouldn't normally post such horrible photos, but you need to see what I was dealing with here. I'll talk you through what you're seeing.
I know, super horrible, but I was in a dark parking garage, PMSing and restraining myself from tearing in to this thing because I wanted to get a good photo and then it was too darn dark and if I stayed too long I was going to have to pay $20 in parking fees.
So that is a scoop of some magnificent bright green mint chocolate chip ice cream wedged between two homemade double chocolate chip cookies, and then placed into a little wax paper bag, like when you get a small order of fries at McDonald's. Shoved on top of all that is my crumbled mint chips. So the bag was there to catch the mess. I wasn't going to hang out eating in the parking structure, so I drove off...I drive a manual transmission vehicle. I'm not fond of doing things like this downtown.
When I went to pay the cashier in the parking garage, I almost got chocolate all over her. So of course I licked the chocolate off my thumb and then reached over to grab my change from her. Trying not to laugh, I was careful not to touch her with my slobbery hands. I pulled out of the garage and into downtown traffic, with pedestrians clogging the road at every green light that I wanted to turn left at.
I was making a mess. I longed for more red lights so I could eat my sandwich. It was really good actually. It's a good thing this place is downtown because that means I will hardly ever go there. If it were somewhere with a parking lot and some tables to eat outside, and not surrounded by sketchy people...I'd be in trouble. I would go back and try every combination available. But I wouldn't put any toppings on it. In my opinion it just isn't necessary and it adds a mess where there needn't be one. Homemade cookies mixed with homemade ice cream really does not necessitate additional toppings.
As I drove and tried to eat, I could feel mint chips falling all over my lap. I struggled to scoop them up before they became lost forever. I looked down to see that some of the chips had fallen between my legs and were now wedged and melting under my left leg. "Nooooo!!" I growled. When I got to a stoplight, I looked down again. Green and brown streaks of melted mint chips were smeared all over the seat under me. But my leg was still holding in the clutch. Quick! Put it in neutral and lift your leg! I slipped it into neutral real quick and looked up. The light was green. Dammit!!! So this is how I got chocolate all over my couch and bed sheets. As I drove, I was smearing the chocolate onto my jeans.
Totally distracted by this point, I got a little lost and completely forgot that I had to swing by the Post Office. I got home and realized my mistake. I went upstairs to pee and check the damage to my pants. Not too bad. Smudge of chocolate on the left butt cheek, but that's ok. I wet a paper towel and headed downstairs to wipe up the mess and head to the post office.
Ha. Yeah, pretty bad, huh? Those guys were not stingy with the toppings. There were a ton of mint chips left in the bottom of the bag when I was finished eating the sandwich, so I just dumped them into my mouth. Delicious.
So would I go again? Maybe if I walked there from campus. Like on a Wednesday when I have a 3 hour break in between classes. Then I'd walk over to Phil's Coffee on my way back and pay $3 for a small pour-over coffee.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
15 mile long run
This weekend we were supposed to get a massive amount of rain. I forget what they said on the radio, but basically expect some urban flooding. The creeks and reservoirs would be fine because they're so low right now, but the streets would not be able to handle the deluge that was coming.
This is what I like about the prospect of being a meteorologist. You don't have to ever be right and you still get paid the same amount.
Anyway, so I was worried about the rain on my 15 miler. It did get a little misty and I steeled myself for the deluge...but it never materialized. It was fairly warm, around 60 and not very windy at all. Turned into a nice run.
I've been trying to slow my long runs down lately in order to keep my body from breaking down too much, but sometimes I have problems with that. Today I made a valiant effort at slowing down, but ran into a few issues along the way. First off, sub 8 minute miles feel fantastic to me at the start of the run. I love my stride, my cadence, and the way when I look down expecting my Garmin to say 4 miles, it says 5.2 and I think, Oh man, better Gu up!
Oh lovely GU. I have a love/hate relationship with GU. Number one, I know what it feels like to totally bonk- when your body says "That's it, we're done here". Providing your body with nourishment during endurance activities helps keep that at bay. Real food would be nice, but my inability to chew on pasta while running could lead to serious injury or death. However, squirting thick sugar gel into your mouth while running and then expecting your stomach to handle it is a lot to ask. Breathing with sticky gel in your mouth is tough. I've made it a rule to no longer attempt to do so while running uphill. And for the next 20 minutes, my stomach threatens to reject the mass invasion of sugar.
It's interesting to watch all the faces and actions of other runners and walkers while I'm doing a long run. You can tell where a runner is at in his run by his body language and the amount of desolation in his eyes. Some runners smile, nod, say good morning or wave. Others stare straight ahead or at the ground. In general, runners seem more likely to smile on a downhill than an uphill...completely immersed in their private battle.
After turning around and heading towards home, I passed by another girl running towards me. I gave her the best smile I could muster at the time (I was starting to fade myself due to running the first part too fast) and she tried to force a smile, but her eyes seemed so pleading and desperate. After having gone by her, I smiled even more. Lady, I can't save you from your run. I can't make your run any less miserable. I can't even make my own run less miserable.
I had not managed to slow my run by much. Near the end of the run, I let myself pick it up a little, as long as I promise to slow down on the last mile for a decent cool down. With about 5 miles to go, my body started to ache. My glutes tightened and my legs began to feel inflamed. Sometimes it's like I can feel the inflammation in the little tiny muscle fibers. I don't know if that's possible, but that's what I envision when I begin to feel that vague, rusty ache.
Alright Carrie, if you want to pick it up, now's the time. I opened up my stride a little and had a little chat with Agony, my good friend who occasionally joins me at the end of my long runs.
Just slow down, you're allowed to slow down you know. This is a long run. My watch beeped. 7:53. Geez, slow it down. At this point I always realize exactly why those other runners looked so defeated. I wonder what my face looked like as I forced a smile or "mornin" at each passing runner.
Beep- 7:55. Whatever, just finish this thing. 3 miles to go.
I turned right onto my familiar bridge. I've developed a little mantra when things get tough "Run easy" I repeat in my head until I relax and my stride becomes effortless. "Run easy" I breathed quietly, and tried to relax my stride and cadence. Find that effortless spot. I found it for maybe 10 seconds. "Run easy" I tried again. I wanted to stop, I wanted to cry, I didn't want to hurt anymore and I got this fabulous idea in my head to invent liquid tylenol for adults.
Beep- 7:53. Let loose, one more mile before your cool down mile. I opened up my stride and tried to put my head somewhere else. Anywhere but here. The concrete freeways around me disappeared. The creek on my left disappeared. The chain link fence lining the path disappeared. I let my eyes relax and get absorbed into the pavement in front of me, dodging people, dogs and bikes. I pushed past a runner taking up half the path. I could see the stonework of the light-rail path. Almost to the road.
Beep- 7:35. Geezo. I laughed and shook my head. So much for slowing down my long runs. The problem is that I know the faster I go the sooner it's over. When I just want to be done, I pick it up, even when I'm suffering the pain of having run the first half too fast.
I turned right up the ramp to the street and made myself slow down. It didn't feel any better than running faster and it pained me to think I was only delaying getting to stop and walk.
When I was signing up for my first marathon, the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon, so many years ago, I joined a running club that was raising money for charity. Our coach talked to us about running a marathon. He said "People run marathons because it feels so good to stop". That came into my head at mile 13 today when all I wanted to do was stop. But you don't stop, because you're not there yet. You're not home and home is where you get to stop. Home is where the food is. I don't think I'd ever say I decided to run a marathon just so I could experience that feeling when you can finally stop running, but I do intimately know that feeling...that overwhelming need to just stop running. And I've continued on, not out of some mental toughness or deep drive, but out of desperation to just get home.
This is what I like about the prospect of being a meteorologist. You don't have to ever be right and you still get paid the same amount.
Anyway, so I was worried about the rain on my 15 miler. It did get a little misty and I steeled myself for the deluge...but it never materialized. It was fairly warm, around 60 and not very windy at all. Turned into a nice run.
I've been trying to slow my long runs down lately in order to keep my body from breaking down too much, but sometimes I have problems with that. Today I made a valiant effort at slowing down, but ran into a few issues along the way. First off, sub 8 minute miles feel fantastic to me at the start of the run. I love my stride, my cadence, and the way when I look down expecting my Garmin to say 4 miles, it says 5.2 and I think, Oh man, better Gu up!
Oh lovely GU. I have a love/hate relationship with GU. Number one, I know what it feels like to totally bonk- when your body says "That's it, we're done here". Providing your body with nourishment during endurance activities helps keep that at bay. Real food would be nice, but my inability to chew on pasta while running could lead to serious injury or death. However, squirting thick sugar gel into your mouth while running and then expecting your stomach to handle it is a lot to ask. Breathing with sticky gel in your mouth is tough. I've made it a rule to no longer attempt to do so while running uphill. And for the next 20 minutes, my stomach threatens to reject the mass invasion of sugar.
It's interesting to watch all the faces and actions of other runners and walkers while I'm doing a long run. You can tell where a runner is at in his run by his body language and the amount of desolation in his eyes. Some runners smile, nod, say good morning or wave. Others stare straight ahead or at the ground. In general, runners seem more likely to smile on a downhill than an uphill...completely immersed in their private battle.
After turning around and heading towards home, I passed by another girl running towards me. I gave her the best smile I could muster at the time (I was starting to fade myself due to running the first part too fast) and she tried to force a smile, but her eyes seemed so pleading and desperate. After having gone by her, I smiled even more. Lady, I can't save you from your run. I can't make your run any less miserable. I can't even make my own run less miserable.
I had not managed to slow my run by much. Near the end of the run, I let myself pick it up a little, as long as I promise to slow down on the last mile for a decent cool down. With about 5 miles to go, my body started to ache. My glutes tightened and my legs began to feel inflamed. Sometimes it's like I can feel the inflammation in the little tiny muscle fibers. I don't know if that's possible, but that's what I envision when I begin to feel that vague, rusty ache.
Alright Carrie, if you want to pick it up, now's the time. I opened up my stride a little and had a little chat with Agony, my good friend who occasionally joins me at the end of my long runs.
Just slow down, you're allowed to slow down you know. This is a long run. My watch beeped. 7:53. Geez, slow it down. At this point I always realize exactly why those other runners looked so defeated. I wonder what my face looked like as I forced a smile or "mornin" at each passing runner.
Beep- 7:55. Whatever, just finish this thing. 3 miles to go.
I turned right onto my familiar bridge. I've developed a little mantra when things get tough "Run easy" I repeat in my head until I relax and my stride becomes effortless. "Run easy" I breathed quietly, and tried to relax my stride and cadence. Find that effortless spot. I found it for maybe 10 seconds. "Run easy" I tried again. I wanted to stop, I wanted to cry, I didn't want to hurt anymore and I got this fabulous idea in my head to invent liquid tylenol for adults.
Beep- 7:53. Let loose, one more mile before your cool down mile. I opened up my stride and tried to put my head somewhere else. Anywhere but here. The concrete freeways around me disappeared. The creek on my left disappeared. The chain link fence lining the path disappeared. I let my eyes relax and get absorbed into the pavement in front of me, dodging people, dogs and bikes. I pushed past a runner taking up half the path. I could see the stonework of the light-rail path. Almost to the road.
Beep- 7:35. Geezo. I laughed and shook my head. So much for slowing down my long runs. The problem is that I know the faster I go the sooner it's over. When I just want to be done, I pick it up, even when I'm suffering the pain of having run the first half too fast.
I turned right up the ramp to the street and made myself slow down. It didn't feel any better than running faster and it pained me to think I was only delaying getting to stop and walk.
When I was signing up for my first marathon, the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon, so many years ago, I joined a running club that was raising money for charity. Our coach talked to us about running a marathon. He said "People run marathons because it feels so good to stop". That came into my head at mile 13 today when all I wanted to do was stop. But you don't stop, because you're not there yet. You're not home and home is where you get to stop. Home is where the food is. I don't think I'd ever say I decided to run a marathon just so I could experience that feeling when you can finally stop running, but I do intimately know that feeling...that overwhelming need to just stop running. And I've continued on, not out of some mental toughness or deep drive, but out of desperation to just get home.
Friday, February 7, 2014
The Baby In My Closet
It's Friday once again! On Tuesday I felt like Friday would never arrive but this morning on the way to class I was shocked that it was already Friday again. Friday's are nice: gym in the morning, Pre-Calc and then home.
Last night reminded me of this post that I've been thinking of since the first week I moved in. Living in an apartment complex doesn't give you a ton of privacy and you hear a lot of what goes on next door or even the next apartment over. I've made a mental diagram of my neighbor's apartment based on the sounds I can hear at different times of the day.
One night I opened my closet door to hang up some clothes, and it was like opening a door to another dimension (much like The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe). In this other dimension was a baby crying!
Whoa. I closed the door and the sound stopped. I opened it and there it was again. A baby crying loudly. I looked around for a vent or something that would help carry the sound from the neighbor's apartment into my closet. My closet is very small, if there were a vent (or a baby) in there, I would know it. Close the door again- baby disappears.
At other times, I can hear voices through my bedroom wall. There's a significant sized area "missing" between my closet and my bathroom and I've often wondered what's in there and why that space is not filled with more of my apartment. It's hard to describe. But the way I figure, the neighbor's bedroom must be wedged between my bedroom (and closet) and my bathroom, and when I walk the L-shape path between my bedroom and bathroom, I'm essentially walking around my neighbor's bedroom. My bedroom must share a wall with their living room.
So every once in awhile, when I open my closet door, I find a baby in there again- crying. That door stays closed unless I need to get in there. God forbid the thing get out.
Last night reminded me of this post that I've been thinking of since the first week I moved in. Living in an apartment complex doesn't give you a ton of privacy and you hear a lot of what goes on next door or even the next apartment over. I've made a mental diagram of my neighbor's apartment based on the sounds I can hear at different times of the day.
One night I opened my closet door to hang up some clothes, and it was like opening a door to another dimension (much like The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe). In this other dimension was a baby crying!
Whoa. I closed the door and the sound stopped. I opened it and there it was again. A baby crying loudly. I looked around for a vent or something that would help carry the sound from the neighbor's apartment into my closet. My closet is very small, if there were a vent (or a baby) in there, I would know it. Close the door again- baby disappears.
At other times, I can hear voices through my bedroom wall. There's a significant sized area "missing" between my closet and my bathroom and I've often wondered what's in there and why that space is not filled with more of my apartment. It's hard to describe. But the way I figure, the neighbor's bedroom must be wedged between my bedroom (and closet) and my bathroom, and when I walk the L-shape path between my bedroom and bathroom, I'm essentially walking around my neighbor's bedroom. My bedroom must share a wall with their living room.
So every once in awhile, when I open my closet door, I find a baby in there again- crying. That door stays closed unless I need to get in there. God forbid the thing get out.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
The Roof!
Wednesday is my long day at school. All the other days are very short. On Wednesdays I get to school at 7 am to go to the gym (and secure some parking) and leave myself enough time to change into normal clothes, maybe check my email, and head to Pre-Calculus. After Pre-Calculus, I walk back to Duncan Hall for my class on Weather and Climate. After that I've got a 3 hour break to study, work or swim and then a GIS lecture until 5:45 pm.
It was a nice day, despite the fact that we've got some ugly (although much needed) weather coming in starting tomorrow. And since I finally have keys to the building, grad room, staff elevator and the lab, I decided I would get the pics up of our rooftop lab. Here it is:
It's not much to look at, but the fact that it is on the roof is the nice part. The Diablo Moutain Range is off to the left. This is on top of the eighth floor (which is our lab).It's also a good place for sunning yourself, studying, or just taking a break. It's only accessible to our lab people, so it's ok if I lay up there in a bikini. Just kidding. That would be weird. Anyway, there's a bunch of instruments, cameras and weird stuff up there that I only partly understand at this point. The SJSU Weather Center runs off the data these machines provide and there is a real-time camera on the "Current Weather Conditions" link so you can see if it's sunny enough to make the trip to the roof worth while. It also allows you to see the air quality/ visibility going on. And if it's night time. Because sometimes as a grad student, it's hard to tell.
Here's a view of campus from the roof. The tall tree in the middle is a dying Redwood that someone thought would be clever to plant in an arid valley. You can also see something-or-other-hall off to the right which was in a photo a week back that I posted.
Downtown San Jose...which, in case you didn't know, is where SJSU is located.
Storm front coming in. Those are the Santa Cruz Mountains. That range is what separates me from my frigid surf spot.
It was a nice day, despite the fact that we've got some ugly (although much needed) weather coming in starting tomorrow. And since I finally have keys to the building, grad room, staff elevator and the lab, I decided I would get the pics up of our rooftop lab. Here it is:
Here's a view of campus from the roof. The tall tree in the middle is a dying Redwood that someone thought would be clever to plant in an arid valley. You can also see something-or-other-hall off to the right which was in a photo a week back that I posted.
Which reminds me. Every time I go surf (it's been a week or two...classes, rain, etc...you can't surf in CA after a rain...storm run-off can make you sick) up here, I envision the photos I've seen of people surfing in the arctic. They really do, I swear. I don't know why, because they're crazy.
This photo was taken from nothingmajor.com.
Yes, that is a surfer standing on a slab of ice in the arctic, about to paddle out. This is how I feel as I'm getting ready to surf up here. It is so cold!
A link to that crazy article is HERE
Of all the crazy things people do, this one just dumbfounds me.
If ever I were surrounded by icebergs, I just don't think it would occur to me to jump in with my surfboard and have a morning session.
The Northern (or Southern) Lights are definitely on my list of things to see in my lifetime, but I think when I do I will be snuggled into several layers of fur and seal skin, with a cup of hot chocolate nestled into my mittens.
By the way, I'm not procrastinating my studying and homework, I've just sworn off any real work tonight due to my long day.
Gaining Celebrity Status
This whole Boston thing has gotten out of hand. It's amazing how people view this event. I got here accidentally, I was coerced!
There are people who really enjoy marathons (Debbie), and then there are people who do marathons because they are talked into it by their friends who enjoy marathons.
The moment I crossed the finish line in my Boston-qualifying marathon, my soul completely crumbled. I could really have cared less if I qualified, it never even occurred to me that I could qualify for Boston because only fast people qualify for Boston. I had never given it a moment's thought, because running Boston would first mean training to qualify and then training AGAIN to run the damn thing. As I crossed that finish line, the only thing I could think was At least I have another 10 years before I have to do that again. Debbie and I have a pact.
So then word got around and everyone was excited about me qualifying for Boston...except me. Because I still hurt. My body hurt in places I had never felt before and my will to be a runner was completely squashed. Because running sucks. Don't deny it people, it does. You know it and I know it. Don't think for a second that because I qualified for Boston, I am unaware that running sucks. Nope, I'm aware.
I'm even hyper-aware, especially now when we're expecting almost an inch of rain tomorrow and I'm scheduled for a 7 miler. It's gonna be a fast one, let me tell you. But on Sunday I'm running 15 miles...and it's going to rain. I will dress more appropriately however.
Anyway, my main point is that people get the wrong idea about Boston, and marathons in general. You don't have to be an amazing athlete to complete a marathon. Anyone can finish a marathon, I swear this is true. You don't have to be fast, you don't have to be skinny....but you do have to have an indomitable will. Because marathons suck.
In one of my classes, we had an assignment to write a profile of ourselves. I didn't have much to say except that I'm a meteorology grad student working in the Fire Weather Research Lab, I enjoy surfing, swimming, riding my bike, and I'm training for the Boston Marathon.
Because yes, after accepting that I was indeed going to run it, it has become a source of pride for me as well as an explanation for why I would really like it not to rain tomorrow or Sunday (or Saturday for that mater because I was going to do another ride).
When we were introducing ourselves to the rest of the class on the first day, the teacher said "Oh wait, are you the one who qualified for Boston?" Wow. Weird.
Today, during a short break, one girl came up and asked if I was the one who qualified for Boston. She asked about my training runs and wanted to know how many miles I run a day. Well, get this people, I don't run every day. In fact, I only run three times per week. I don't want to hear it. So as we got back into class I was finishing up my mileage explanation, and a couple other girls heard us talking.
One girl asked "What's your favorite marathon to run?"
I laughed. I was stumped. Because see, I don't really like running marathons. I guess on some level I do, but I think I more like that I can. And can do it well. I don't know. They really are miserable though. Not fun. I don't see why so many people think running marathons is so fun. And the day before the marathon when you're walking through the expo and it finally hits you what you're about to do, it makes you sick to your stomach...you can even confirm that with Debbie. And I think Corey was there to witness our instant sickness.
I tried explaining to the girls that I really don't like to run marathons....and I've only done three. And as a matter of fact, after Boston, I'm switching to Triathlons.
"Have you run the New York Marathon?" The girl asked.
"No, I haven't."
"Don't you have to run the NY to get into Boston? I thought you had to run some more prestigious marathons before Boston. I heard that Boston is super selective."
Err..well....I tried to explain that one, but the questions and comments started firing from all directions.
"You should do the San Jose marathon, they have one, it's fun!" (See what I mean)
"Have you done the San Francisco one? You should do it. It's for women only and you get a necklace. It's from Tiffany's."
I told them which marathons I've run.
"Is the San Diego Rock and Roll like the San Jose Rock and Roll?"
"Have you done Big Sur? My mom's done it and says it's really hilly but it's super beautiful".
I personally think getting a necklace from Tiffany's as race swag would be awesome...so I actually may look into that. I'm sorry, but that trumps a t-shirt by far. I think the entry fees might be a little steeper though.
Pretty soon a good chunk of the class was turning around and asking questions and talking about Tiffany's necklaces, marathons and crazy runners. Holy cow. There is a lot of hoopla surrounding the Boston Marathon. I'm definitely excited to be doing it. Not long after I finally gave in to the idea, I bought a book describing last year's Boston. The author was following people leading up to it, in order to write a book about it, and then covered a lot of the aspects of marathon running that spectators don't see. It got me pretty pumped up for it.
But now of course, is time for the not-glamorous stage of training for it. It's misery defined. What I really look forward to, after the marathon is behind me, is getting my toe looked at. There's something going on down there.
There are people who really enjoy marathons (Debbie), and then there are people who do marathons because they are talked into it by their friends who enjoy marathons.
The moment I crossed the finish line in my Boston-qualifying marathon, my soul completely crumbled. I could really have cared less if I qualified, it never even occurred to me that I could qualify for Boston because only fast people qualify for Boston. I had never given it a moment's thought, because running Boston would first mean training to qualify and then training AGAIN to run the damn thing. As I crossed that finish line, the only thing I could think was At least I have another 10 years before I have to do that again. Debbie and I have a pact.
So then word got around and everyone was excited about me qualifying for Boston...except me. Because I still hurt. My body hurt in places I had never felt before and my will to be a runner was completely squashed. Because running sucks. Don't deny it people, it does. You know it and I know it. Don't think for a second that because I qualified for Boston, I am unaware that running sucks. Nope, I'm aware.
I'm even hyper-aware, especially now when we're expecting almost an inch of rain tomorrow and I'm scheduled for a 7 miler. It's gonna be a fast one, let me tell you. But on Sunday I'm running 15 miles...and it's going to rain. I will dress more appropriately however.
Anyway, my main point is that people get the wrong idea about Boston, and marathons in general. You don't have to be an amazing athlete to complete a marathon. Anyone can finish a marathon, I swear this is true. You don't have to be fast, you don't have to be skinny....but you do have to have an indomitable will. Because marathons suck.
In one of my classes, we had an assignment to write a profile of ourselves. I didn't have much to say except that I'm a meteorology grad student working in the Fire Weather Research Lab, I enjoy surfing, swimming, riding my bike, and I'm training for the Boston Marathon.
Because yes, after accepting that I was indeed going to run it, it has become a source of pride for me as well as an explanation for why I would really like it not to rain tomorrow or Sunday (or Saturday for that mater because I was going to do another ride).
When we were introducing ourselves to the rest of the class on the first day, the teacher said "Oh wait, are you the one who qualified for Boston?" Wow. Weird.
Today, during a short break, one girl came up and asked if I was the one who qualified for Boston. She asked about my training runs and wanted to know how many miles I run a day. Well, get this people, I don't run every day. In fact, I only run three times per week. I don't want to hear it. So as we got back into class I was finishing up my mileage explanation, and a couple other girls heard us talking.
One girl asked "What's your favorite marathon to run?"
I laughed. I was stumped. Because see, I don't really like running marathons. I guess on some level I do, but I think I more like that I can. And can do it well. I don't know. They really are miserable though. Not fun. I don't see why so many people think running marathons is so fun. And the day before the marathon when you're walking through the expo and it finally hits you what you're about to do, it makes you sick to your stomach...you can even confirm that with Debbie. And I think Corey was there to witness our instant sickness.
I tried explaining to the girls that I really don't like to run marathons....and I've only done three. And as a matter of fact, after Boston, I'm switching to Triathlons.
"Have you run the New York Marathon?" The girl asked.
"No, I haven't."
"Don't you have to run the NY to get into Boston? I thought you had to run some more prestigious marathons before Boston. I heard that Boston is super selective."
Err..well....I tried to explain that one, but the questions and comments started firing from all directions.
"You should do the San Jose marathon, they have one, it's fun!" (See what I mean)
"Have you done the San Francisco one? You should do it. It's for women only and you get a necklace. It's from Tiffany's."
I told them which marathons I've run.
"Is the San Diego Rock and Roll like the San Jose Rock and Roll?"
"Have you done Big Sur? My mom's done it and says it's really hilly but it's super beautiful".
I personally think getting a necklace from Tiffany's as race swag would be awesome...so I actually may look into that. I'm sorry, but that trumps a t-shirt by far. I think the entry fees might be a little steeper though.
Pretty soon a good chunk of the class was turning around and asking questions and talking about Tiffany's necklaces, marathons and crazy runners. Holy cow. There is a lot of hoopla surrounding the Boston Marathon. I'm definitely excited to be doing it. Not long after I finally gave in to the idea, I bought a book describing last year's Boston. The author was following people leading up to it, in order to write a book about it, and then covered a lot of the aspects of marathon running that spectators don't see. It got me pretty pumped up for it.
But now of course, is time for the not-glamorous stage of training for it. It's misery defined. What I really look forward to, after the marathon is behind me, is getting my toe looked at. There's something going on down there.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Phantom Glass
That's ok. Shit hurts sometimes and you just deal. Like how my elbow feels like there's glass embedded in it from yesterdays fall on my bike. There's no open wound, therefore no glass- much like you. Not really there, never was, but it hurts nonetheless. You are the phantom glass in my elbow.
Thank you.
Thank you.
14 miler-In the rain.
We're in a significant drought and the only time we get a significant amount of rain is when I've got a 14 mile long run to do. The weather this morning said there was a 60% chance of rain. I had some important decisions to make regarding my attire.
Jen told me "Wear a hat". I had to laugh. It's perfect advice really, but I was concerned about my entire body, not just my face. But I did wear a hat.
First thing in the morning it was 47 degrees, so I figured shorts were a good call, but would need to be more particular with the clothes for my upper body. It couldn't possibly rain hard enough to warrant a full on rain jacket, and that would make me too hot, so that was out. I settled on a water "resistant" light windbreaker. I didn't want to wear a long sleeve under it, because then I would get warm enough to take the jacket off, leaving me exposed to the rain. So I settled on a sleeveless top.
Somewhere in there I also decided I was not wearing gloves. I truly do not understand how this happens so often. I have Raynauds Syndrome so not only does my entire body get cold very easily, but the blood vessels in my wrists and legs spasm and shunt blood away from my hands and feet so that I get a funky discoloration, numbness and iciness in my fingers and toes. Here's some pictures of Raynauds...not mine since I can't operate a camera when having an issue with it.
It's pretty interesting to see, but not so funny to experience. All that whiteness is numb. And it happens real quick, it's not like frostbite or frostnip but it can increase your chances of getting it because you have less blood flow to your little digits.Wearing gloves doesn't prevent it, but it lessens it I guess. Today gloves would have been a good call.
When I left the house it had already started to rain. It was also cold and windy, so I picked up the pace more than I wanted because I just had to warm up. As I made it to the running trail (a mile from my place) some older guys looked up and watched me run down the ramp to the trail. I turned in their direction and it didn't take long for me to over take them.
"You're making us look bad!" One of them exclaimed as I started to pass them up.
"I gotta get warmed up, so that I can slow down!" I shouted back.
"Yeah, that's the part we're at...the slowing down part. How far you goin'?"
"14."
"Nice, good for you! We'll see you when you turn around."
"How far are you guys going?"
"16"
"Nice! That's awesome! See you guys soon!" And I took off, struggling to get the feeling back in my hands.
I was pretty surprised to see as many people out there as I did. The rain was coming down sideways and the wind made it feel frigid. Every time my Garmin GPS beeped, I looked down and saw I was running too fast, but it was so cold...I figured I'd warm up eventually and could slow it down again.
I ran along the creek trail, dodging people, dogs and ducks. I ran past the casting ponds and Vasona Lake. I ran past the cute little play train tracks that we rode past yesterday on our bike ride. Finally I hit 7 miles, ran another tenth and then turned around to head home. My body had warmed up after 4 miles and I had relaxed and slowed my pace, but now I was cold again. My hands had turned a bright red and were numb. I was trying to stave off the misery. I still had a ways to go.
Back at Vasona Lake, I saw the two guys from the beginning. I smiled as they came at me.
"Hey! You turned around too soon!" One yelled.
"No way! I made it all the way to Los Gatos!" I yelled.
"You didn't slow down!"
I laughed. "I did slow down! See you guys!" And off I went.
I broke out of the trees and became exposed to a harsh wind and driving rain. A guy in a grey sweatshirt came up on my heels. I turned to the sound of shoes behind me, and he came around and passed. I kept my pace even, making sure I didn't get caught up in his pace. He pulled ahead.
Around this time I was supposed to take a second GU (sugar gel) but my hands were so numb and I was so miserable that I didn't even want to deal with it.
By mile 9 my right wrist was so numb I could hardly hold my water bottle. I was incapable of squeezing the bottle with that hand at this point, since it was so cold and numb, so when I needed a drink, I switched it to my left hand. I tried sticking my hands in my pockets...one at a time since I had the water bottle, but it didn't help much. That right hand, wrist and arm was especially bad. They were blotchy and bright red. I saw the sleeve of my jacket was drenched and could see my skin underneath. There's your problem.
The guy in the grey sweatshirt slowed and I kept coming up behind him. We held the same pace together until he went straight towards Campbell Park, and I took a right over the bridge.
My hands were incapable of handling anything at this point and I gave up trying to drink water. 3 more miles.
The gusts of wind picked up and I couldn't tell if the water in my eyes was from the wind or if I had finally succumbed to despair. I figured no one else could tell either so I let them water. I tried to open and close my hands but they hardly cooperated.
I passed the bridge to Campbell Park. This is about to be the longest two miles of your life. I wondered if I was in this much agony during the last two miles of my last marathon. Logic tells me yes, but at that point in my run I decided on no.
I went under my street and turned up the ramp to the road. Relax, a mile is still a long way to go.
I kept envisioning how it would feel to jump in a hot shower. I wondered how I was going to fish my key out of the little pocket in my shorts and if I'd even be able to get my clothes off to get in the shower. I figured I could either jump in the shower with all my clothes on and take them off as I got warm, or I could warm my hands in the sink first until I could manage to unzip my jacket. This is pathetic.
I thought about how I would need calorie replenishment right away and decided I could shake up a quick protein shake.
My watch beeped a couple blocks from my house and I stopped running. I thought I would continue to jog until I got there, but I was tired and just wanted to stop. I made it to my apartment and trudged up the stairs. I stuck my hand into the little pocket of my shorts until I felt a small piece of metal. Very slowly and cautiously, I was able to work the key into the lock and get inside.
It was significantly warmer inside. I considered taking off my shoes but I knew that would be pretty much impossible at this point. I couldn't believe how numb my right wrist felt. I took off my GPS, my wet hat, and managed to get my drenched jacket off. I went to the kitchen sink and stuck my arms under the faucet, careful not to make it too hot.
My hands were red and swollen, and my wrist was swollen and slightly purple. It looked like I had banged it on something. I tried to remember how that happened, but couldn't come up with anything (other than falling off my bike yesterday). As my hands thawed, they changed color several times and hurt like crazy. My wrist began to feel like I broke it. I cried for real. It wasn't the rain this time.
When I could finally move my hands enough, I stripped down and jumped in a hot shower. I wasn't even hungry. I thought it funny how the body knows what's important and what can wait. Usually when I finish a long run, my body tells me that food cannot wait and I must take in a ton of calories NOW. Didn't even cross my mind this time. As I stood in the shower, I marveled that I was not the slightest bit hungry.
After about 20 minutes in the shower, I got out and got warm and dressed. I was suddenly starving. There you go. I was going to be ok. The swelling in my hands were gone and my hands and wrist were back to a normal color.
I think I'll try to be a little wiser about my clothing selection next time.
Jen told me "Wear a hat". I had to laugh. It's perfect advice really, but I was concerned about my entire body, not just my face. But I did wear a hat.
First thing in the morning it was 47 degrees, so I figured shorts were a good call, but would need to be more particular with the clothes for my upper body. It couldn't possibly rain hard enough to warrant a full on rain jacket, and that would make me too hot, so that was out. I settled on a water "resistant" light windbreaker. I didn't want to wear a long sleeve under it, because then I would get warm enough to take the jacket off, leaving me exposed to the rain. So I settled on a sleeveless top.
Somewhere in there I also decided I was not wearing gloves. I truly do not understand how this happens so often. I have Raynauds Syndrome so not only does my entire body get cold very easily, but the blood vessels in my wrists and legs spasm and shunt blood away from my hands and feet so that I get a funky discoloration, numbness and iciness in my fingers and toes. Here's some pictures of Raynauds...not mine since I can't operate a camera when having an issue with it.
When I left the house it had already started to rain. It was also cold and windy, so I picked up the pace more than I wanted because I just had to warm up. As I made it to the running trail (a mile from my place) some older guys looked up and watched me run down the ramp to the trail. I turned in their direction and it didn't take long for me to over take them.
"You're making us look bad!" One of them exclaimed as I started to pass them up.
"I gotta get warmed up, so that I can slow down!" I shouted back.
"Yeah, that's the part we're at...the slowing down part. How far you goin'?"
"14."
"Nice, good for you! We'll see you when you turn around."
"How far are you guys going?"
"16"
"Nice! That's awesome! See you guys soon!" And I took off, struggling to get the feeling back in my hands.
I was pretty surprised to see as many people out there as I did. The rain was coming down sideways and the wind made it feel frigid. Every time my Garmin GPS beeped, I looked down and saw I was running too fast, but it was so cold...I figured I'd warm up eventually and could slow it down again.
I ran along the creek trail, dodging people, dogs and ducks. I ran past the casting ponds and Vasona Lake. I ran past the cute little play train tracks that we rode past yesterday on our bike ride. Finally I hit 7 miles, ran another tenth and then turned around to head home. My body had warmed up after 4 miles and I had relaxed and slowed my pace, but now I was cold again. My hands had turned a bright red and were numb. I was trying to stave off the misery. I still had a ways to go.
Back at Vasona Lake, I saw the two guys from the beginning. I smiled as they came at me.
"Hey! You turned around too soon!" One yelled.
"No way! I made it all the way to Los Gatos!" I yelled.
"You didn't slow down!"
I laughed. "I did slow down! See you guys!" And off I went.
I broke out of the trees and became exposed to a harsh wind and driving rain. A guy in a grey sweatshirt came up on my heels. I turned to the sound of shoes behind me, and he came around and passed. I kept my pace even, making sure I didn't get caught up in his pace. He pulled ahead.
Around this time I was supposed to take a second GU (sugar gel) but my hands were so numb and I was so miserable that I didn't even want to deal with it.
By mile 9 my right wrist was so numb I could hardly hold my water bottle. I was incapable of squeezing the bottle with that hand at this point, since it was so cold and numb, so when I needed a drink, I switched it to my left hand. I tried sticking my hands in my pockets...one at a time since I had the water bottle, but it didn't help much. That right hand, wrist and arm was especially bad. They were blotchy and bright red. I saw the sleeve of my jacket was drenched and could see my skin underneath. There's your problem.
The guy in the grey sweatshirt slowed and I kept coming up behind him. We held the same pace together until he went straight towards Campbell Park, and I took a right over the bridge.
My hands were incapable of handling anything at this point and I gave up trying to drink water. 3 more miles.
The gusts of wind picked up and I couldn't tell if the water in my eyes was from the wind or if I had finally succumbed to despair. I figured no one else could tell either so I let them water. I tried to open and close my hands but they hardly cooperated.
I passed the bridge to Campbell Park. This is about to be the longest two miles of your life. I wondered if I was in this much agony during the last two miles of my last marathon. Logic tells me yes, but at that point in my run I decided on no.
I went under my street and turned up the ramp to the road. Relax, a mile is still a long way to go.
I kept envisioning how it would feel to jump in a hot shower. I wondered how I was going to fish my key out of the little pocket in my shorts and if I'd even be able to get my clothes off to get in the shower. I figured I could either jump in the shower with all my clothes on and take them off as I got warm, or I could warm my hands in the sink first until I could manage to unzip my jacket. This is pathetic.
I thought about how I would need calorie replenishment right away and decided I could shake up a quick protein shake.
My watch beeped a couple blocks from my house and I stopped running. I thought I would continue to jog until I got there, but I was tired and just wanted to stop. I made it to my apartment and trudged up the stairs. I stuck my hand into the little pocket of my shorts until I felt a small piece of metal. Very slowly and cautiously, I was able to work the key into the lock and get inside.
It was significantly warmer inside. I considered taking off my shoes but I knew that would be pretty much impossible at this point. I couldn't believe how numb my right wrist felt. I took off my GPS, my wet hat, and managed to get my drenched jacket off. I went to the kitchen sink and stuck my arms under the faucet, careful not to make it too hot.
My hands were red and swollen, and my wrist was swollen and slightly purple. It looked like I had banged it on something. I tried to remember how that happened, but couldn't come up with anything (other than falling off my bike yesterday). As my hands thawed, they changed color several times and hurt like crazy. My wrist began to feel like I broke it. I cried for real. It wasn't the rain this time.
When I could finally move my hands enough, I stripped down and jumped in a hot shower. I wasn't even hungry. I thought it funny how the body knows what's important and what can wait. Usually when I finish a long run, my body tells me that food cannot wait and I must take in a ton of calories NOW. Didn't even cross my mind this time. As I stood in the shower, I marveled that I was not the slightest bit hungry.
After about 20 minutes in the shower, I got out and got warm and dressed. I was suddenly starving. There you go. I was going to be ok. The swelling in my hands were gone and my hands and wrist were back to a normal color.
I think I'll try to be a little wiser about my clothing selection next time.
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