Dropping a photo

Photos are up from the CityTrail run last Sunday. They're always a gruesome sight. Sometimes I envy the people who look good in those things. Their faces are normal colors, they're smiling, hands in the air. Overall fairly happy. I think it's the same way I envy the walkers with their cups of coffee when I see them out on my runs. At that moment I'd rather be them. Peaceful with their lattes and conversation, a stroll along the creek.

But alas, I am not that person. I am the person in photos with a bright red face, cheeks jerking downward from the shear force of my body hitting the ground with each step, the boob on my impact leg plunging toward the ground despite a suffocatingly tight sports bra, and suddenly displaying 3 extra chins I didn't know I had. Sometimes, mercifully, I have sunglasses on and it hides some of the anguish. I hate my running photos. And since they usually cost around $30 just to download one, I rarely get them. I have one from my first marathon, with Debbie running next to me.

This time I found one I like. And it's got a gorgeous background. And it was only $7 for a high resolution download.

They've got a ton of speed style photos where if you click through them fast enough, you can see me running, especially at the beginning. I always analyze these things for my foot placement when it hits the ground, my arm swing, are my quads sticking out nicely? I also look in them for clues on why on earth people stare at me when I run. I don't get it. Some smile or nod, others just stare like they can't tell I can see them staring because I have sunglasses on. Are they looking at my misery? Is my scar super noticeable? Is it the red RoadID on my left wrist? Is it the fact that I'm so small and yet you can hear my footsteps a mile away?

Jason says it's because I look mean when I run. Why on earth would you blatantly stare at someone who looks mean? That's just asking for it.

Are they wondering how such small boobs can run amok so easily in a tight sports bra? Well...me too. I am truly amazed with one of my photos from the Carlsbad Marathon in January of 2013. Since then I have purchased tighter bras. I mean shocking. I won't post that. I just didn't know they could travel so far without causing injury. They should have passports for that sort of thing. Now I pull on my sports bra and wonder how on earth I'm going to breathe.

Anyway, so here's a fairly decent photo of me running. Maybe one day I'll do a montage of bad ones....my misery and despair out for the world to see.

CityTrail Half Marathon

In order to get inspired to get my head in the game from a long summer of laziness, I signed up for the CityTrail Half Marathon in San Francisco, which is the same one I ran back in February, just days before my fateful hamstring injury. They ran it again, with a few more sponsors this time, so it drew a bigger crowd. A slightly faster crowd.

I'm in a little better shape than I was for the AFC Half in San Diego a month ago... a whole month of training better shape to be exact. I did not forget how punishing this course was. As a matter of fact, it's possible that I remember it to be worse than it actually was. Let me remind you of the race elevation:

That's an 1120ft elevation gain...and loss, but never mind that. A lot of that gain is stairs. Trail stairs. Although less so than I remember. Turns out there was also crazy hills without stairs. Who knew.

I started out way to fast for my current physical abilities. It's hard when it's super flat to begin with and you know it's going to get crazy steep. It kinda makes you want to take the fast where you can.

Right away some fast girls passed me, which didn't happen last time with the smaller and slower crowd. Although a few of them ended up falling back.

Just after the turn around at about mile 7.5, I started closing the gap between myself and a girl I met right before the race. A lot of peoples' quads give out on this route. It's pretty brutal. Up and down stairs and steep hills are just rough.

Coming down the hill towards a small stretch of soft sand (and an aid station), my left calf started to cramp up. I gasped each time it did and did somewhat of a hobble mid stride. I have never had my calf cramp during a race and I was unsure of how to handle it. I tore off my second GU that was pinned to the side of my shorts and got it ready to take it right before the aid station. Every few seconds my calf would spasm, threatening to clench into an all out cramp.

I came down the stairs to the beach right behind Claire, the girl I had met, and had been listening to a pair of footsteps behind me for the last couple miles. We spilled out onto the beach and I got right up behind her as we approached the aid station. I think she was tired of me tagging behind so close because she said something about passing her. I made a half-hearted attempt at a reply but it only came out as a grunt. I needed a few cups of water at the aid station. I took my GU and stopped at the aid station with Claire and the guy who was behind me. I drank a small cup of electrolyte beverage and one of water. I took off.

I heard a few shouts behind me, and Claire shouted "Up the hill!" I looked up and saw I was headed straight toward the ocean, the faceless voices behind me encouraged me the opposite way. Claire pulled ahead again.

Every once in awhile my calf would still spasm, and I kept trying to pull it tight by pulling my toes up so it wouldn't ball up completely. The worst part of the run was over, we had made it up the worst set of stairs.

We turned a corner and I watched Claire head up a hill I had totally forgotten coming down. As she jumped a small chasm in the path, I followed suit and remembered. Against all my most preciously held values, rules, and judgment, for the first time in possibly my entire racing career and working as a hotshot.... I whimpered out loud. I'm pretty sure Claire heard me. You just don't do that. It's wrong. Showing weakness in the middle of a race when you're right next to a competitor is just wrong. And I am ashamed.

Regardless, I completely closed the gap on Claire on that hill, left the footsteps of that guy behind and did my best to use my hill climbing ability to my advantage, and passed Claire on the way up. One thing I've learned as a hotshot, when you pass someone on the way down a hill or on the flats, that's despicable. When you pass them on the uphill, you earned that hill and you take it. I took it. And strode on.

Three more miles to go. Very little hill left. I crossed under the Golden Gate Bridge and did a minor hill- the last of the route, and down the last flight of stairs to the flat. That flat is always longer than I remember. Two more miles to go. How can it still be two more miles?

My calf spasmed for several strides in a row and I thought that was it. I was going to go down just 2 miles from the finish line. I pulled my toes up and ran rigid for a few seconds. It faded. I tried to breathe in to it. Maybe it needed more oxygen. I didn't know how far back Claire was and if she could see me stumble. I wanted to cry. I wanted it to be over. You can handle anything for two miles. 

I developed that mantra during the Boston Marathon. I've never been much for mantras as I tend to be more harsh on myself and less encouraging. None of that "You can do this, you're so strong" baloney. It usually comes out something like "Suck it up and quit being a wimp!". I do have one that I use on my long runs sometimes. "Run easy". When the run gets tough and I'm almost home, part of me wants to push harder to get there sooner, but that's not the point of the run. I tell myself "Run easy" to open up my stride and get easy speed instead of putting a lot of energy into it.

I was hurting so bad during Boston, with my IT band flaring up so badly that my quad was spasming, my feet hurting from new shoes that weren't correct for my running form, and just overall pain and discomfort from not being able to train during my injury. I wasn't going to walk. You can handle anything for three miles became you can handle anything for two miles and then finally one. And then there was the finish line. After the finish line you get to stop. That's all I wanted, was to stop.

Today that was all I wanted. I wanted to be done, but running faster would risk my calf cramping up so bad that I would be done. I had to keep it from cramping until I crossed that finish line. You can handle anything for two miles.

I tried to relax my face muscles, so no one could read my misery. I wondered if Claire would stride out that last mile and pass me, wondering why I had slowed down on the flat.

I could see the finish line. It looked so far away. I looked at my gps, it was only a half mile.

So far. Ten feet would be too far.

You are not stopping until you cross that finish line.

It got closer. I managed to keep myself from whimpering out loud again, but that in itself was a struggle. I tried to relax my face again and then noticed the photographer at the finish line. I probably had not relaxed in time and a beautiful photo of me and all my misery will be available for the world to see.

I crossed two sets of timing mats. I meant to walk around for awhile, loosen up the legs. Instead I bent over with my hands on my knees. I needed water.

I hobbled to the aid station and got water and some pretzels. I collected my finishers medal and my medal for 2nd place in my division (females 30-39). I was the fourth girl overall.

Against my better judgment I also collected my free beer from the beer garden and bbq with coleslaw.

 After eating for a bit and stretching out in the sun, I walked over to sit on the beach wall, enjoy the breeze and the view, and get rested up for the hour drive home.

Hicks Road and South San Jose Traffic

These days because of a tight school and running schedule, I'm only riding once a week. Saturdays are currently my ride days. I've been avoiding Hicks Road lately since I'm not in the shape I used to be (just 6 months ago) and Hicks Road and I have a hate/hate relationship. Also this morning, my left ovary was in the process of strangling itself and I almost decided to can the ride and just lay on the floor curled up in a ball for awhile. I took two ibuprofen and told myself, they say exercise helps with this sort of thing. They lied.

I got all geared up and crawled out the door. I had quite a few miles before I made it to Hicks Road, so plenty of time to decide to turn around and come home. I found a shorter way to get to Hicks Road in order to conserve my energy for one of the most intense climbs in San Jose. Unfortunately, the short way also brings me through a dangerous intersection. More on that later (obviously I'm alive to write this).

Hicks Road is feared by many a cyclist. I personally have never made it up without taking a few breathing breaks. When you're on your lowest gear and your bike is going so slow it almost tips over, you know it's time to pull over and take a short rest. I love the looks you get while standing on the side of the road with your bike. Some are sympathy looks, some are looks that simply say "What's wrong with you?". Those looks usually come from motorists.

My left leg has been taking me up Hicks Road for months now. I say that like it's a regular route for me. It's not. Not by a long shot. But every time I've gone up, it's been my left leg doing all the work. And it let me know today that it didn't appreciate it. Actually my first time up Hicks was with a torn hamstring. My right one of course. I've been working on strengthening my right leg, so I don't know what the problem is, but my entire left side was unhappy with the whole situation today.

Hicks Road is a winding mountain road. That of course goes up a mountain. It peaks in a saddle, so it never really goes up to a summit (that's another road for another lifetime). It has a "warm-up" climb that sucks the gears off my bike so fast I'm out in a matter of seconds. After that is a leisurely stroll until reaching the real climb. Honestly the real climb is only about 1.3 miles long, which in theory is not that bad. But just like the warm up climb, you run out of gears and breath pretty quickly. It's also steep enough that you have to be strategic about your rest stops or you won't be very successful in getting back on the bike to continue up the hill.

I was taking a break just before the last tough corner, when another cyclist came down the hill towards me. "You're almost there!" "Yeah...." I replied. Cyclists are always happier on the way down. I clipped back in for the last push.

Slightly before reaching the top, I tried giving myself a pep talk and it went something like this: Hey, there's a grilled cheese sandwich waiting for you at the top, you just have to get there and it's yours.

Now I'm no fool. There's no store or cafe up there, just a parking lot, bathroom and trail head. The sandwich was in the back pocket of my jersey. Duh. If I wanted my sandwich I could just pull over and eat it. I don't have to make it to the top. Not the point. You'd probably puke it up anyway.

I watched the tiny rocks in the asphalt move slowly past my churning tires.

On the last little pitch, there's a sign that always renews my hope. "Stop ahead".

If you don't know, they put stop signs in roads just before you go back downhill. The stop sign is where I get my grilled cheese sandwich. As I eased toward the stop sign, I shifted to the larger chain ring in the front to prepare for the ride down, took a picture of the road sign for Jen, and pulled into a shady spot to eat my sandwich.

Other cyclists came down Mt. Umunum and parked in front of me, nodding and saying good morning. Then they continued to discuss the overheating of their rims from braking on the way down. I hear that's even steeper than Hicks. As more guys in their group joined them, one said "Touch your rim!" The guy did and immediately withdrew his hand with an "Ouch!". I've heard when you overheat your rims it can explode your tires....which would be tragic at high speeds going down a steep hill.

I finished my sandwich and headed down the other side of Hicks Road. I don't do downhills often enough, although after taking a bike handling class, I do a little better. I survived the descent and passed by a guy pretending to be very interested in something off the side of the road. He was on his way up. Pretty sure he was just resting.

I rode past the reservoir, through New Almaden past the old quicksilver mine, and out onto the traffic filled streets of San Jose.

Camden Road is undergoing some sort of construction around a freeway on ramp/ off ramp intersection. So what was once a hectic intersection with stoplights is now a crazy intersection with stop signs. People do not know how to handle busy intersections with stop signs. There's just too much going on.

I approached the intersection and started to come to a stop. Two lanes were going straight. Right of way at that moment was for the car next to me also going straight. I decided to use it as a blocker and go through when that car did. Unfortunately, that car was much faster than I was and cleared the intersection rather quickly (sporty little guy).

I was now the only one in the middle of the intersection. Cross traffic to my right included a left turn lane, a straight lane, and a right lane.

Just this morning I updated the emergency information on my RoadID and had decided to carry my insurance card with me. As I did so, I wondered if it was some sort of premonition.

The car turning left started to go just as I approached it's front bumper, it halted. The guy turning right just about went, and hit the brakes and said "Whoa!" Which left the guy in the middle lane who could not see or understand why the two guys on either side of him were not going. It was too late, I was in front of the vehicle and could only hope for the best. As the car started for me, I braced myself and said out loud "STOP STOP STOP! JESUS!". Hands over the brakes I nearly closed my eyes but instead pressed down harder on the pedals. I made it through the intersection and took a couple deep breaths.

I approached another busy intersection and stopped at the light. Lights are nice. They tell people when to go and when to stop. Very few judgment calls required. When the light turned green, I cautiously went through and turned on to Leigh, a much more peaceful road. I breathed a sigh of relief. Should've taken Meridian and gotten yourself a bundt cake. 

I stopped at another red light and watched an old woman pull up next to me, texting as she came to a stop. She was set to go straight, so was I. The left turn light turned green for both sides of traffic. Just as I expected, when she saw the left turning traffic move out of the corner of her eye, still texting, she moved straight into the intersection as another vehicle was turning left (with a green light) right in front of her. Fortunately, partway into the intersection, she looked up and stopped. And then just sat and finished her message. What if a small child had been in the intersection?! Crazy people! Put down your damn phones! It's not important enough to kill somebody over.

After another near miss with a guy turning right (vehicles turning right do not like to come to a stop and look around), I pulled onto the small side street that takes me home and could finally relax. With or without a bundt cake.

I'm safely home. I finished the other half of my grilled cheese and had an espresso. Maybe I'll have another. Then go get new running shoes and frozen yogurt. I will drive. Safely mind you.

Another Friday

It's another Friday afternoon and I'm ready for a nap. But the rule for today was no naps and no coffee after 2 pm. That probably means I should guzzle some now since I'm nearly dozing off, but my stomach is upset and guzzling coffee doesn't ordinarily help with that situation.

When I left you last, I had just had 3 shots of espresso and was trying to decide what to study next. I picked up my meteorology book and started to read...but then decided I could focus better if I had popcorn.

I didn't have popcorn and I wasn't going out to get any. I looked around the room and tried to figure out what else could make my studying more efficient. The breakfast table, covered in piles of junk, would make an awesome place to study.... if it wasn't covered in junk.

Somehow that turned in to cleaning and rearranging the house a bit. Hours later my house was clean, the breakfast table was cleared off, and I could sit and study. Or my espresso had finally worn off and I could now handle sitting still again.

Fridays are especially nice because.... well, they're Fridays. I'm sure you all have your reasons why Fridays are nice. Fridays are short for me, and I don't have class until noon, so I can have a real breakfast after my two morning workouts instead of a protein shake on the run and a bowl of cold oatmeal when I get to the grad room.

Fridays I have Calculus II, which makes me think I have Chemistry. I'm not sure why. There are a bunch of chemistry labs in the building, so maybe that's why.

In the calculus lecture hall, the chairs are old upholstery and the folding desks are covered in graffiti and have gum stuck to the bottom. It's always hot, with very stagnant air. The professor doesn't like the fan. The clock on the wall always reads 12 minutes to 3 and seems to melt in the stuffy room like a Dali painting. This one in particular:

No matter how many times I look at my watch, or the clock on the wall, nothing seems to move. I practice my integral signs on my notebook and marvel at the fact that I am now in Calculus II, and years ago I thought only geniuses did that.

I chug my coffee out of my hydro-flask if it is cool enough to do so. I think people assume it's water. It's coffee.

I might break my nap rule. I'm supposed to be doing homework. Not sure how that's going to work out.

Catch-up day

I can't find my yellow highlighter that I swear I set aside for home use only. Maybe it's in my desk in the grad room. I had so many of them in my little accessories case that my aunt and uncle got me for Christmas that I decided I'd start pulling them out and staging them in strategic places. I could have a couple in my desk, one at home and two in my case that I have with me all the time.

I have the same issue with pens (and highlighters) as I do with chapstick. The guys at the lab have nicknamed me Chapstick. I own at least 9 or 10 tubes of it but can never find any. I own 5 or 6 yellow highlighters but don't really know where they are. I know where 4 orange ones are but those don't help. I only highlight with yellow. Other colors are for multi-coding notes. I won't even bother to explain that.

What's funny about all this is that last week I could not find a pen. Yesterday I pulled 6 pens off my living room table and put them back in my "office supply" drawer. Where did all those things come from? Pens are everywhere right now. And 3 pencils! There were 3 pencils on my living room table as well.

My living room is currently overrun with books. I'm also doing shots... of espresso. I'm on number two. It's fun, you should try it.

Each of my four classes comes with 2-3 books each. Three of my classes also come with "...For Dummies" books because...well, because I need them. I also had to buy a special engineering pad for Meteorology and that's about the size of a book. There are books to the left and right of me. Books by my feet on the coffee table, books on the floor, books on the couch, and a couple I left at school on my desk (although for the life of me I could not tell you which ones).

I have completely mixed up my calculus and physics classes. Last week I got an email about adding a class from what turned out to be the physics department. So I took my add code and tried to add calculus. I got an error so I responded to the email that the add code didn't work. Almost immediately I got an email from someone else with a different add code and successfully used it to add calculus...although I have no clue where that code came from. Then later in the week I received a response back from the original lady worried that I was not able to add physics. I thought we were talking about calculus so I told her I was able to add it and everything was ok. Earlier this week I realized I was conversing with two different departments. I had added physics long before either of the two conversations.

When I try to access my calculus professor's webpage to look for assignments, I go to the physics department website. Daily. This has to stop.

Shot number three. Why all the espresso? I'm trying to catch up on all my homework and studying that I started out behind in. Because as a grad student, I can only crash undergrad classes and therefore cannot get book and reading info until the first day of class...which automatically puts me behind. Then you add an awesome holiday weekend in San Diego in which nearly nothing got done, and you have three shots of espresso and half a dozen chapters to read before Monday.

I just finished a tough physics assignment that required the emergency learning of several math topics. Our assignment that's due tomorrow night includes two topics in physics that we haven't covered yet. It also included some hectic math.

My choices of what to study next were: calculus, the next chapter of physics, meteorology, or computer programming. Being as I just burned myself out on math and physics, that leaves meteorology and computer programming. My "Unix For Dummies" book sits on my coffee table in front of me, "Using Python in the Atmospheric and Oceanic Sciences" (no, Python is not a snake...ok it is, but that's not the python we're talking about here) sits next to me on the couch. I thumbed through that one. Nope nope nope.

Meteorology it is. My meteorology book is currently buried under: engineering pad, a massive physics book, the newest edition of Bicycling magazine, and my accessories case....which I brought out of my backpack in order to find a yellow highlighter.

Which brings me here. Procrastinating. Three shots of espresso later.

Notes From Calculus II

I'm just starting my first class of the day and I'm ready for a nap. On the desk under my notebook are various obscene sketches and engravings. Also is a sketch of the chemical structure of meth. In the upper left corner it says "should've been a comm major".

The temperature in the science building where I am now is oppressive. There are no windows and I'm pretty sure the heat is on even though it's in the 80's outside. Apparently the building was condemned years ago, but when the school suddenly lost the funding to replace it, the building was magically healed and able to be inhabited again. There is no air conditioning. There are no windows. It is a hot dungeon. Hell above ground so to speak. I downed what was left of my coffee and continued to nod off in between proofs of summations.

The building in which I work and somewhat reside on campus (Duncan Hall School of Science....not to be confused with the science building) is always too cold. The hotter it is outside, the more layers I have to bring on days I have lecture in DH or will be working. It's Wednesday so I wore shorts. Tomorrow is Thursday so I have to wear jeans. A sweatshirt sits on my desk in the grad room for use on days too hot to actually wear one to school, but it's freezing in the building.

I'm back to starting my days at 4:30 am, so by noon, my first class on Wednesday, I'm ready for bed. Somehow I only made it out the door this morning with half a mug of coffee. Classes go until 6:45 pm on Mon/Wed. Long days. Bedtime is at 8 pm. It's never enough.