Santa Hustle Half

Joe and I ran the Santa Hustle half marathon at Cedar Point yesterday and it was awesome!  We talked about running this race when there was a Groupon for it back in the summer, but I was skeptical.  The Groupon didn't offer much information other than there was going to be a half marathon "at" Cedar Point; I figured "at" really meant "near."  Once the folks at Adrenaline Sports Management finally released the course map, we saw that the majority of the race would be at, nay, IN Cedar Point.  Joe and I being Joe and I, we couldn't pass up a chance to run through Cedar Point in the off-season with Gatekeeper construction underway.  Nerrrrrds.

We had a grand plan for the weekend: arrive in Sandusky early Saturday afternoon, check into our hotel (the super-classy Quality Inn at the start of the Causeway) play at Castaway Bay for a few hours and pick up our race packets, eat pizza while watching the Rockets play in the Famous Idaho Potato Bowl, play some more at Castaway Bay, then get a good night's sleep in preparation to race on Sunday.

The only things in that plan that happened were that we checked into our hotel and watched UT.  We ate wings instead of pizza.  And we forgot to pack swimsuits.  And we didn't get to Sandusky until 4:00PM.  Oops...?

Joe and I , except not.

On Sunday morning we got up shortly before 7:30 and leisurely got ourselves ready to go.  On our way out the door we each had a Clif bar--Joe has made this our pre-race "thing" I think.  He is good about fueling and always eats before any kind of long run, so he bought a box of Clif bars and just kind of made me feel like I needed to eat one for breakfast.  I know it's the right thing to do, so I don't fight it, but it is so hard for me to eat anything in the morning.  We strolled across the street in our Santa beards, Joe also wearing his hat.  My head is too big for the Santa hat, plus I figured I would fidget with it too much throughout the race, so I left that in our hotel room.

The start and finish were in the Castaway Bay parking lot, which in the morning was lined with giant inflatables of Santa, a nondescript snowman, and Rudolph.  In the middle of the hullabaloo was a small pen that held two reindeer and their keeper.  I really, really didn't like that because the reindeer looked so sad and I could only imagine that they were overwhelmed and/or annoyed by all of the stupid humans flashing cameras at them.  I'm not a hippie, but it made me really uncomfortable seeing them.  I hope they have returned to a content home.

I'm going on and on way too much about details insignificant to the race, so I'll just cut to the chase now.

At 9:00AM Joe and I started the race together, but we didn't have plans set in stone to stay together for the duration.  Not even a tenth of a mile into the race, Joe rolled his ankle running over a pothole in Sandusky's well-kept Cleveland Road.  I checked to make sure that he was okay, he said he was and that he'd run it off, and so I just kept on moving.  I feel like a bad wife, but I didn't see him again until the finish.  I had mentioned the night before that I wanted to go for 1:50, since my other two halves were 1:53.  I went out faster than I needed, which would have been 8:20ish, and wasn't so good at voluntarily pulling myself back.  The Causeway, which was the first 2ish miles, wasn't as bad on the way out as I had anticipated--not even the peak in the middle of it.  And then at the end of it, I could finally see Gatekeeper!

Mile 1: 8:09
2: 8:06
3: 8:13
4: 8:05
5: 8:11

That third mile was only so much slower than the second and fourth because of a little CF at a water station that caused me to come to a complete stop.  I was glad it happened because it made it seem like I had slowed a bit, but I knew that it wasn't really indicative of my moving pace.  I felt way too comfortable at the pace at which I was running, so I just went with it.  A Clif Shot was in my near future at the 45-minute mark, so I figured that I'd get a little kick of energy after that.

Mile 6: 8:25

I thought about taking the Clif Shot, but it was too early.  I passed the banner for mile 7 and looked down at my Garmin to see that I was only at about 6.7.  Dammit.  Did they measure this course wrong?  Oh well.

Mile 7: 8:25

This is where I tried to open the Clif Shot, but my sweaty fingers couldn't tear the package enough.  Not even my teeth could tear open that little bastard.  Oh well, there was no water station anyway.  And my Garmin was still three-tenths of a mile off of what the banners claimed.  Maybe it would make up for itself somewhere, somehow.

Mile 8: 8:43

All right, there has to be a water station soon, but this son of a bitch still isn't open.  Maybe if I suck really hard on the little bit that I've torn, I can get something out?  Nope, nada.  Should I veer off and grab a stick to stab this God-forsaken pouch until it bursts all over my hands?  I can just lick it all off of my fingers and palms.

I battled with the Clif Shot using my fingers and teeth as weapons and finally, right around 8.5, it was open enough to suck out the chocolate goodness.  I don't even like chocolate, but I was really happy to eat it.

Mile 9: 8:53
10: 8:34

This is the mile at which things got annoying.  Mile 9 on Perimeter Road had been rough, the wind straight at my face off of the bay.  Miles 10-12 sucked hard, straight up.  The wind was ridonkulous and the runners near me were definitely slowing down, a couple even walking.  I kept on telling myself that walking would be pointless because there would still be wind.  I was a little concerned about making it up the peak of the Causway, but I convinced myself that the bridge I run near our house is worse.  Once I was on my way back down, I was feeling good.

Mile 11: 8:41
12: 8:51

I was feeling butterflies at this point because I knew that I was going to PR.  At this point, my Garmin still didn't match the mileage that ASM posted, but I didn't care because I did the math and even if the course were correctly measured, I would still PR.

Mile 12.89: 7:15

Garmin & "official" time: 1:48:29--that's a 5-minute PR.

I'm not sure if the course was not measured accurately or if it's a GPS problem.  I am leaning toward the latter, not only because it benefits me, but because of our experience at the 5K we ran at Cedar Point in June.  The same thing happened at the 5K, which my Garmin and Joe's Endomondo showed to be about two-tenths of a mile short.  A local high school coach measured the 5K course, while ASM measured the Santa Hustle half.  Maybe there's an anomaly in the park.

Joe finished with just a little discomfort from his early ankle-roll.  We got our medals, jaunted over to our hotel to change into dry clothes (did I mentioned that it was 50 degrees and sunny in December in Sandusky and that I was wearing a running skirt?), returned to Castaway Bay for the post-race party, and had a couple of Bud Lights.  I was feeling awesome.  I enjoyed the entire experience; the route was a lot of fun, since I got to run next to Gatekeeper AND Magnum, the gear is funny, the medals look good hanging on the mantle with our stockings, and I like beer.  I hope that next year the volunteers on the course are a little more enthusiastic ("Yay, good job"), that ASM uses CP's PA system to play Christmas music in the park, and that I PR again.  That was a great race to round out a great year of running!

I'm on my way back

Running has been spotty since the Columbus Marathon 2 weeks ago.  I did a couple of recovery runs, then I skipped running altogether for a few days while traveling.  Then when we returned home, I didn't run because I went ahead and got the plague.  I was finally feeling up to running again on Thursday evening, so Joe and I hit up the Second Sole group run and I felt great.

Mile 1: 8:11

2: 8:19

3: 8:14

I ran with our friend Rob, who had to forgo running entirely for over a month due to some kidney stones.  Rob tried to pull me back a number of times during that run, but my body wanted to keep on pushing.  At the end of the run, he thanked me for not letting up.  I was pumped that I was able to pull that off after recovering from a marathon and then being sick as a dog.  However, as soon as the run ended, my lungs went all buck-wild and I was coughing like a mofo.  Hacking at the end of a run has been the norm since Thursday evening.  Throughout the workout I'm fine; able to talk and breathe normally with no need to cough or even clear my throat.  As soon as I slow down to a walk, though, I'm a phlegmy shit-show.  It's gross.

I don't know if it's the sickness, the quick switch to cold weather running, or still needing some recovery time after the marathon, but Friday, Saturday, and today, running hasn't been easy.  Not gonna lie--I was kicking ass yesterday and this morning, hitting negative splits on a 9- and 6-miler respectively.  I just haven't felt good while moving and it's mostly mental.  I run ahead of our group, worried that if I fall behind them, I will never catch up.  I feel bad that I am not socializing, but can't let myself slow down for fear that I'll end up walking home alone.  So I run hard.

I can't wait to feel normal again.  I have some big expectations for a spring marathon which are going to require some serious training over the winter and the sooner I can start working toward that goal, the better.

Nationwide Children's Hospital Columbus Marathon

Marathon #2 is complete.

I got just over three hours of sleep on the night prior, but I think that I was so nervous that it didn't phase me mentally or physically.  All that I wanted while waiting in my corral from 6:00AM until the 7:30AM gun was to find the 3:45 pacer (I'll refer to him as "Stick") and stay glued to the back of his feet.  That would mean maintaining an 8:35 pace for 26.2 miles.

Just before 7:30AM, Thunderstruck blared from the speakers lining Broad Street in Columbus.  I really don't like AC/DC, but Thunderstruck is so awesome that the feeling of nervousness was exchanged for pumped-up-ness.  Then there were awesome fireworks, which got me even more excited--what kind of lamebot doesn't love explosives?

And then they played some Bruce Springsteen.  "Born to Run" is nowhere near as awesome as "Thunderstruck," but I got the reference and accepted it.

And we were off.  I did some bobbing and weaving to maintain close proximity to Stick.  Spectators for this race were exceptional from the start, cheering us on as "3:45."  I felt awesome and according to said spectators, I looked awesome.  Quite a few of them were wearing Ohio University gear, so I called out a lot of "Go, Bobcats!"  At one point, another runner close behind me roared a nice "OU!  Oh yeah!," which got me a little carried away and ahead of Stick.  I always pulled myself back.
Mile 1: 8:44
2: 8:26
3: 8:28
4: 8:26
5: 8:22
6: 8:23

I think it was in mile 7, right before taking my first Clif Shot, that I asked Stick about our pace.  I knew that we were supposed to maintain 8:35, and nearly 15 seconds faster than that is pretty significant for a pace group.  Stick told me not to worry and that I shouldn't trust the instantaneous pace on my Garmin.  I was skeptical, but didn't argue because I was feeling good.  I killed a chocolate Clif Shot just before gliding through a water station to wash it down.  I was still feeling awesome.  So awesome that when I saw a member of my training group who was running the half about 200 feet ahead of me, I decided that it was a good idea to haul ass and catch up with him.  After all, it was mile 12.5 and it would be my only chance to say "hey" before he finished his first half marathon.  I gave a little pep talk, then pulled myself back to Stick again.

7: 8:31
8: 8:36
9: 8:16
10: 8:33
11: 8:20
12: 8:35

We hit the halfway point and were finally at our goal pace.  I was feeling a little beat from using all of that gas to catch up with the guy from the training group, so I perked myself up a bit by busting out a quick "Whoa, we're halfway there!  WHOA!  Livin' on a prayer!"  Stick appreciated it and commended my energy and singing skills.  Then right around mile 14, we hit our first significant ascent, which Stick stated would be only of the entire race (lie).  I was immediately relieved on the descent.  Somewhere between miles 15 and 16, I felt like I had lost a toenail.  I was fine with it until it felt like the toenail was jostling around in my sock.  I stopped twice within about a minute to take off my sock and shoe to inspect my foot, only to discover that all of my toenails were still intact.  As it turns out, the discomfort was just some nasty rubbing-together of toes.  I lost the pace group and saw Joe run by, caught up with him, and then tried my hardest to get back to a reasonable pace.  At this point, I lost my stride and I wouldn't see the pace group again for the rest of the race, but that was okay.

13: 8:10
14: 8:24
15: 8:28
16: 9:43
17: 8:48
18: 8:43

Mile 18 took us through the stadium where Ohio A&M plays.  Despite my disinterest in that school, it was cool to run into a big stadium.  Perhaps the coolest part was the steep hill down on the way into the stadium. Of course, that was followed by a steep hill UP to get out.  Around mile 20, I grabbed a Dixie cup of PBR in pure baller fashion and washed it down with a few bites of a Twizzler.  I really don't like Twizzlers, but I think Twizzlers, like PBR, are a hipster thing, so I figured, "When in Rome..."

19: 9:27
20: 10:03 (I blame the PBR)
21: 9:23
22: 9:22
23: 9:12
24: 8:56

The last 2.2 miles were a roller coaster.  The first was not bueno at all.  A short way into mile 25, I could see a huge inflatable arch in the distance.  "Is that the finish?," I asked a guy to whom I caught up for that purpose.  He wasn't sure.  I was starting to feel good and I turned on the gas to give the spectators a strong finish.  As I got closer, I could see no mat, no photographers, and no one handing out medals or mylar blankets.

"You're almost there!"

That's what the arch said.  The cruelness caused my eyes to water, but I held myself together.  Then I thought that I was going to puke, I think because of the overwhelming emotions, so I walked for about 5 seconds.  Then I realized that walking sucked more than running at that point, and I didn't want to look like a chump in the last mile.  Also, I knew that I was so close to a PR and that I would be disappointed in myself if I finished any slower than my first marathon (3:53:20).  I pushed myself to only run to the finish.  High fives make me feel awesome, so I ran the right margin along the willing spectators, lots of them shouting my name and seemingly pumped that I was showing them some love.  I made the turn for the last .2 and crossed the finish with my arms in the air.  Although my finisher photo shows defeat, I felt like a baller.

25: 9:38
26: 9:17
26.46: 3:47 (8:11 pace)
Finish: 3:53:03

I PRed by 17 seconds.  SUCCESS!

Two days later, I'm really happy with marathon #2  I know that if I train well this winter, I will have a huge PR in the spring.  I can't wait.

Wine in Sandusky

On July 5th, Joe and I set out on a wine-drinking adventure in Sandusky.  We spend a lot of time there, but until then it had only been to visit Cedar Point.  Finally we would take advantage of the other fun offered by north central Ohio.  Together, we channeled our joint love for wine-drinking and I planned for a us a day of the area's finest wineries.  Our original plan was to visit Hermes Vineyards, Firelands Winery, and Crush Wine Bar.

First stop: Hermes Vineyards.
On the 4th we drove out to Port Clinton where we'd be staying for the next couple of days.  That made it easy for us to make an 11:00AM-ish arrival at Hermes.  The vineyard is a couple of miles north of the Turnpike on Route 4 behind a barn that is more than 200 years old.  We pulled into the gravel parking lot and headed around the silo and into the tasting room, which is the entirety of the barn aside from a restroom and the storage room behind the bar.  At the bar we were greeted by an awkward lady and an informative young man.

Hermes offers a tasting flight for $5 or individual tastings for $1 each--we chose the latter.  We started with their Viognier (a variety that I had never tried anywhere), then Chardonnay (my go-to), and then we tasted a red (Cabernet?) that I can't remember (note to self for our next wine-tasting extravaganza: write down what I taste and flavor notes).  Throughout the tasting, the awkward lady and informative young man entertained with friendly conversation and a bit of history of the vineyard and tidbits about why the owner grows the grapes that he grows.


It was high-time for some lunch nibblies; Hermes offers light snacks good for sharing over wine, so we ordered a stone-fired pizza and each a glass of Sangiovese.  We ate at one of the small two-seater tables in front of the bar.  The pizza wasn't bad, but I'd call it forgettable if it weren't for the fact that the herbs on the pizza were fresh from the garden immediately outside of the large glass wall that lines the back side of the barn.  It wouldn't surprise me if the tomatoes were also grown on-site.  It was about noon on a Thursday, so only a few other people were in and out of the tasting room during our stay.  Once we finished the Sangiovese and the pizza, we took a walk out back through the garden and into the vineyard.  Despite the heat, it was a beautiful, sunny day and the scenery was lovely.  We frolicked, dodged a bee, and talked about stealing a raspberry and a grape to eat off of the vine.

Back into the tasting room we went to pay.  We also bought a souvenir glass and a bottle of Viognier. If we hadn't been stocked up on reds at home, we probably would have bought the Sangiovese instead, but the Viognier was very good and I look forward to drinking it again.

Next stop: Firelands Winery Mon Ami.
I was feeling a little tipsy after Hermes, so instead of diving straight into more fermented grape goodness, we made a pit stop at Kalahari for an appetizer and then drove back to the condo where we were staying in Port Clinton to kick back a little.  We got really comfortable and so we didn't make it to Firelands until about 5:15--fifteen minutes after they closed for the day.  This was the second time we tried to visit Firelands to find them closed, so I was kinda disappointed.  We didn't let it ruin our day, though.  I googled other wineries nearby and found Sand Hill on Hayes Avenue.  We were on our way, until we realized that Hayes Road is Route 4 and "Sand Hill" is an alias of "Hermes."  At that point, I was a little bummed.  I knew that Mon Ami was an option, but we had already stopped in there once before just to purchase bottles.  Since we had never done a tasting there, though, Joe encouraged me that it would be a good idea to go there, so we did.


The entire complex is a stone castle-resembling building near Catawba Island in Port Clinton.  Mon Ami's tasting room shares space with their retail store, which is right next to the restaurant.  The bar in the tasting room seemed well-staffed and service from our friendly hostess was exceptional.  Samples are $1, excluding ice wine and some imports.  I prefer dry but was feeling adventurous, so we went with the Gewuerztraminer to start and then Pinot Grigio.  It was then onto the reds with Lonz Blackberry.  Our hostess explained that she doesn't prefer the Lonz Blackberry because it is very sweet, but we were game to give it a go.  She was right about the sweetness so after a sip, she poured in a little of their Spumante which instantly made the Blackberry very refreshing, though not something I'd want beyond a few ounces.  Our last red was Shiraz, which I really, really liked.  Throughout the entire tasting, we had a variety of complimentary crackers and specialty cheeses that the retail store also sells.  We had a really nice bleu cheese and a few others, but my favorite was the drunken goat.  Our hostess and the tasting menu were very helpful with suggestions for pairing their wines and cheeses.


When it was time to go, we grabbed another souvenir glass and decided on a bottle of Gewuerztraminer, again paying mind to trying to even out our stock at home.

Not-so-final stop: Crush Wine Bar.
Crush Wine Bar is a relatively new restaurant in charming downtown Sandusky.  Although we know our way to downtown, I wanted us to follow the GPS.  As it turns out, the same address of Crush exists in a creepy, Deliverance-esque trailer park and shanty community called Crystal Rock.  I thought we were stuck in some creepy zombie town that only had a way in but not out.  No worries, we escaped.  But the image of the creepy lady who stared at us as to ask, "Ya'll ain't from these parts, is you?" is burned into my memory.

We ditched the GPS and drove the way we knew into downtown, found Crush, and were seated immediately at what I'm pretty sure was the last open table in the packed restaurant.  Crush Wine Bar had a really nice list of wines with a lot of variety, but it was nothing in comparison to some other super awesome places we've been that offer books of their wines.  Layer Cake Shiraz (mmm, cake) was our first pick, but we had to wait a while on our server.  As an appetizer we had some bread with oil and honey-truffle-balsamic and asiago crispy duck wings.  After ordering the appies, we didn't see much of our server.  Brought by a different server, the bread was good but pretty standard.  Its oil for dipping came in a deep bowl, which was not the best for dipping because it was difficult to catch any of the herbs resting at the bottom.  Those crispy duck wings, however, were OFF THE MOTHER F-ING CHAIN!

Before dinner came, we ordered a second glass of wine: "The Crusher" Petite Syrah.  We chose it because we wanted a red and we really liked the name.  Again, we waited a bit excessively to see our server, but she finally showed up with our wine.  I was a little disappointed that she didn't have much to say about the wines we had chosen.  Although Crush Wine Bar isn't a winery, "Wine Bar" is in the name.  It has been our experience at most upscale restaurants that upon ordering wine, we're often given a solid description of what we should smell and taste.  Not to say that ever makes us change our minds or enjoy our wine any more, but it makes dinner more of an experience.  Our server poured our wine and then brought out dinner shortly thereafter.  Joe had steak frites, which was a 12 ounce sirloin and a red wine sauce with fried shoestring potatoes, and I had ragu bolognese.  As delicious and filling as dinner was, Joe strong-armed me into helping him to take care of some creme brulee.

I can see us going to Crush again.  I think the waiting that we did was just due to the fact that it was really busy when we were there, so maybe we'll try to make our next stop earlier or later.

And spontaneously on the next day: Heineman's Winery.

On Friday we took the Jet Express to Put-in-Bay and walked all sweaty-like to Heineman's Winery.  Heineman's is about a 10-minute walk from the world's longest bar and fits well with the atmosphere of the island.  Heineman's ads boast that they offer tastings and a tour of their vineyard.  We entered the "tasting room" (quotes used to emphasize that the term is used very loosely at Heineman's), which was a low-ceiling, open-air room packed with tourists.  Surprisingly, there were lots of families with very small children.  To me, PIB is more of a party island than a destination for family outings, but there are apparently some brave parents.  Anywho, there were three or four hosts behind the bar, but only one rather long line leading up to it.  Guests stepped up to the bar one-by-one, paid $1, got a cup of wine (yes, a cup; small, clear, plastic). and then stepped out of the way for the next in line.  I thought that maybe this huge group of people waiting had just finished a vineyard tour, so we waited a few minutes for things to clear out.

When we were ready, we stepped up to the bar where no one else was waiting.  We each ordered a glass of Gewuerztraminer and then found a seat at one of their fast food restaurant-style tables.  Joe and I looked at each other as to say, "this is doo-doo" and we took our first sip.  The wine was very cold and the thickness and flavor made for more of a fruit juice than wine.  When it's hot and humid, I want crisp and dry, or at least more dry than this.  I know that Gewuerztraminer is not the driest of whites by any means, but it was so sweet at Heineman's that I wonder if the host poured from the wrong bottle.  Joe asked what I thought about just dumping the wine and heading to the monument.  I was down.

No wine bought at Heineman's.  I didn't even care to see if they were selling souvenir glasses.  At least we can say that we've been there!

And that was our mini wine tour.  It was a blasty and it reaffirmed that I like wine way more than beer. Wine, please forgive me.  I've missed you!

Ohio/Michigan 8K

At about 11:57PM on Wednesday I decided that I'd run the Ohio/Michigan 8K on the next day.  Albeit not particularly interesting, here is my story.

A few months ago, Tammy had suggested that I run the Ohio/Michigan 8K.  She told me that it's a really fun race in which you run from Sylvania into whatever the first city over the border is in Michigan and back, followed by live music, food, and beer.  In hindsight, I'm surprised that I wasn't immediately sold on the beer alone.  I failed to register and didn't give a lot of thought to running it until Facebook status updates about it started appearing at the beginning of this week.  Around 11:30 on Wednesday evening, my Facebook page was hijacked by someone who convinced me to run.  I knew that online registration was open until midnight, but I was too late.  At 12:00AM on the dot, "Registration for this event is closed."  Fooey.

So it was: I wasn't shut out of the race, but just needed to pay $30 instead of the $25 I would have paid the day before.  Or I could have been responsible and registered when I first learned of the race, in which case I would have only paid $20.  For the record, that's still too much to pay to run a race that you won't win, but the Ohio/Michigan 8K ended up being surprisingly worth even the $30 I paid.  More on that later.

Anywho, the race wasn't until 7:20PM, so I had all day Thursday to get myself prepared as any good runner would do.  I slept in until 6:00AM, ran some errands, did a little yard work, ate a whole bunch of cheese, and sat on the couch a lot.  If that's not an ideal pre-evening race routine, I don't know what is.

When I arrived shortly after 6:00, Tammy, who was working at registration, was working on getting a little drunk already.  I registered, ran into a couple of folks I know, and dilly-dallied.  With all of the time during which I had nothing to do, I considered a warm-up run, but never did it.  I was feeling good and figured I'd just crank out whatever I could once the race started.  My only goal was to try to hover around 8:00-minute miles.  In my last two races I had pace goals.  In my last two races I went out much faster than my goal paces.  In my last two races I finished slower than I had hoped.  In this race I also went out much faster than my goal pace.

After the 80-degree gun start, it didn't take long for me to really feel the run.  I was moving too fast off the bat and tried really hard to pull back for the first half-mile during which I was bouncing between 7:03 and 7:20.  I was also already pretty hot and there was no shade, nor would there be until a stretch of mile three.  Before I was finished with the first mile and realized that I wouldn't be able to consciously slow myself enough, I threw out my plan for those 8:00-minute miles.  I didn't make a new goal; I was just going to run.

Mile 1: 7:47

The second mile was not very awesome.  It became really boring and the road was laden with bumps and potholes--this indicated to me that we had entered Michigan.  The only thing that I have against the state of Michigan is their horrible infrastructure; roads in Michigan are the worst and I can't imagine that anything worse exists in any state in the union.  I think I prefer the drive on the dirt roads of Route 66 in Arizona to the drive on I-75 in Michigan.  As it turns out, the discomfort of driving on said roads translates equally to running on said roads.  At 1.5 miles was our first turn--into a corn field.  Okay, that's not so accurate.  It was actually a turn onto a road running BETWEEN two corn fields.  It was as riveting as it sounds.  I could see the first water station in the distance: YES!  I wasn't even thirsty, but I was so looking forward to splashing myself for a little relief from the sun.

Mile 2: 8:19

Oh, boy.  This is not ideal.  More than 30 seconds slower than the first mile?!  Oh well, that's what I get for going out too fast.  There's not a whole lot to say about the third mile.  More corn fields, more of the same, crappy Michigan road.  Wait, that should be "roadS" because I could see our second turn approaching.  I was getting pretty anxious to get out of the sun, but I had no idea when that were happen.  At 2.5 we made the turn and I could see it: SHADE!  Glorious, glorious shade was not far ahead of me.  It was spotty, but it was pleasant while it lasted.  Still, I was bored.  I even tried to negotiate with myself to walk for a few seconds, but I resisted the urge because I wasn't in pain and I wasn't tired--I was just being a whiny bitch in my head about the heat and sun.  Not worth it to lose time for that.

Mile 3: 8:37

Whatever.  Finishing is what's important, right?  Right.  Mile 4 offered a little more shade and we got back into Ohio, evidenced not by a  "Welcome" sign, but by the improvement of road conditions.  We ran past some classy spectators sitting in front of a pick-up truck parked in the middle of a yard.  A dog barked at us, too.  I was finally feeling less like a namby-pamby.  That's about all there is to say about that.

Mile 4: 8:47

For the last nine-tenths of a mile, I was a little annoyed again; not due to the heat or sun, nor was I tired or in pain.  A woman running with a stroller came up behind me.  A number of things about this woman bothered me:

1.) A woman pushing a stroller is trying to pass me.  A person.  Pushing another person.  In a probably 50-pound stroller.  I am pathetic.
2.) The child in the stroller, for a half of a mile, insisted that she could see the finish.  This was before we even made the final turn.  And she repeated it over and over and over.  Not only was the constant jabber annoying, but what she was saying was a total tease.
3.) I was pretty sure that the woman was going to ram into my heels.  Either pass me with your freaking stroller or fall back.

Maybe a little annoyance from outside of my own head was what I needed for the entire race.  Eventually, I had enough and mustered up the energy to pick up my pace to get the woman and her kid out of my ear.  I also ended up passing a couple of men ahead of me.  That burst carried me from a 9:03 pace to 6:30, which I hit just before crossing the finish.

Mile .98: 8:34

Garmin time was 41:55.  Official chip time was 41:58.

Average pace: 8:25

My miles were all over the place, but despite bottoming out at above 9:00-minutes, I still finished only 25 seconds slower per mile than what I had originally and casually set out to do.  I also placed fifth in my age division.

Tangent: Although I haven't run a lot of races and have only been doing this running thing for a year, I have some weird race distances in my book (25K, 2.9 miles, 8K).

Anywho, the post-race festivities were top-notch.  I killed a bottle of water, had a piece of watermelon (bombest post-race food, hands down), and then sucked down two Miller Lites.  Despite my time, I apparently finished ahead of a lot of the runners--there was no beer line when I got mine, but a while later the line was easily 100 people deep.  I wasn't very hungry initially, but after listening to music and chit-chatting for a little while, I got a little hungry and waited in the food line for my meal.  After 10 minutes of waiting, the line had moved about five feet and I still had a solid 50 to go.  I had homemade mac and cheese in the fridge at home, so I dipped.  Had I stayed in line, though, I would have had my choice of a pulled barbecue chicken sandwich, a turkey burger, or some other sandwich about which I know nothing other than it had cheese on it.

Not a tech tee, but the baddest t-shirt I've seen from a race.

That $30 registration got me two beers, a meal that I never ate, access to swim in a quarry with a giant water slide (which I also didn't do), live music from a mediocre local cover band, and a sweet t-shirt.  I will definitely run the Ohio/Michigan 8K again next year.  I just hope that the race director makes the route a little more interesting.  Of more importance is offering more than one beer line and expediting service at those concessions for food.  I'm not complaining though--I got that all out of my system during the race.

Pork tacos y couscous

I just made some stupendous ginger and rosemary pork tacos and southwest couscous.  Here's what you'll need to enjoy the deliciousness:

For the meat:
1 pound pork tenderloin
Stubb's Rosemary-Ginger Spice Rub
sea salt & freshly cracked pepper
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup water

For the slaw:
1/2 head radicchio, chopped
1/2 large jalapeno, diced
1 handful cilantro, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon honey
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1/8 cup water

For the couscous:
1 cup organic couscous
1 1/4 cups organic chicken broth
1/2 medium shallot, diced
1 large red bell pepper, roasted, peeled, and chopped
1 avocado, scooped out and diced
1/2 can organic black beans, drained and rinsed
1/2 can organic no-salt-added corn, drained and rinsed
1 handful cilantro, chopped

small flour tortillas
the other 1/2 can organic black beans
the other 1/2 can organic, salt-free corn

Salt and pepper the pork tenderloin, then give the meat a conservative rub-down with the Stubb's.  Lay it into a crock pot and let the phallic other white meat cook on low for 7 hours.  It's going to smell delicious.

Once those 7 hours are up, carefully open the crock pot (without burning your face with the steam).  You'll look at the pork and think, "Oh no!  I've overcooked you!"  It'll have a nice crust on it, but I promise you that it's still moist on the inside.  Add the vinegar and water to de-glaze the crock pot, cover it again, and let it suck up some of that moisture while you prepare the slaw.

In a medium bowl, combine all of the slaw ingredients.  Although I didn't do it, you should probably first combine the dressing (honey, vinegar, and water); whisk it together, then toss it all together with the dry ingredients.  Let it hang out uncovered while you move on to the couscous.

In a medium saucepan, boil the chicken broth.  Once that's going, stir in the couscous, cover, and remove the saucepan from the heat.  Let it chill for about 5 minutes, then throw in all of the other couscous ingredients.  Fluff and stir it all together with a fork.

Combine the second halves of those cans of black beans and corn and set aside in a bowl.  Go back to the pork and turn the crock pot to "warm."  Remove the lid and, with two forks, begin pulling apart the pork.  You'll still have the liquid in the crock pot, so stir it all together to make sure the pork soaks up some more of the red wine vinegar-goodness.  Assemble tacos on the tortillas with corn and black beans, pork, and the slaw.  Serve the couscous on the side.

You may or may not have noticed that there is NO butter or oil in this recipe.  Salt is minimal and you're getting a little sugar in the honey.  If you're a freak, you could even substitute the tortillas with lettuce leaves (I prefer Boston lettuce to iceberg) or even serve it over some chopped romaine.

Overall, I'm sayin' that this is a damn good meal with a lot of really great things.  The flavor profile is definitely a step above anything that a restaurant chain will give to you.  You're going to get five to six servings of tacos (2 tacos per serving) and couscous for days.  Try it and let me know what you think!

The other benefits

Fact: Running is really, really good for you.  In the year since I started running, I have felt better physically and mentally than in a very long time.  I had been pretty sure of the improvements, but they weren't totally confirmed until I was in my post-marathon slump.  I was barely running 20 miles per week and as a result was tired, eating a lot of junk, and even a little bit on-edge.  I even felt guilty and resentful because I wasn't running enough.  Now that I've got a goal (the Columbus Marathon), I'm disciplined and feeling great again.

The obvious benefits are pretty objective.  Compared to non-runners, runners have:

• Higher levels of good cholesterol
• Increased lung function
• Boosted immune system
• Lower risk of diabetes, high blood pressure, and osteoporosis
• Less stress
• Improved mood

Source

That list could probably go on a lot longer, but you get the gist I think.  How about the title of this blog post, though?  What do I mean by "the other benefits"?

After I woke up this morning, I pet the cats and watched the news for a few minutes, made the bed, put on my running gear, took the Browns to the Super Bowl, drank some water, then ran four miles (cut me some slack--at 5:30 it was already 77 degrees with 78% humidity).  I came home and cleaned the garage, watered our flowers, did my best Paul Bunyan impression on some tree roots, and staked some landscape border into the ground.  Inside, I changed the AC filter, did a little laundry, and washed the dishes.  I went upstairs and showered.  When I got out of the shower, the bathroom clock (which runs something like 5 minutes fast--I sync it with the bedroom clock, but somehow it always ends up way ahead) read 7:53.

It wasn't even 8:00AM and I had already completed what I know most people won't get done in an entire day.  What the heck does running have to do with it?  I'd insert a flow chart, but we haven't yet got Microsoft Office installed onto our new lappy, so you've just got to read:

I woke up at 4:45 to run at 5:30, which means that I probably got a solid one to two-hour head start on your average, non-running/exercising Joe-Shmoe.  Aerobic activity gets lots of energy going inside of you AND it makes your endorphins crazy-happy.  Right at the end of a work-out, even if you work the crap out of yourself (perhaps literally), you are likely going to want to be super productive.  On the daily, I take advantage of all of that energy and as a result, I always get tons of stuff done before the neighbors are even awake.  In the summertime, that means that I have the entire day to listen to Covino & Rich and NPR, take naps, loiter at the running shop, read about roller coasters online, and shop for cat toys.  During the school year, it means that I get to work and bounce off of the walls all day long.  Ahem, with a little help from a nonfat latte once I start to crash.  The point is that it's because I get up and run that I get as much stuff done every day as I do.

How does exercising affect your productivity?  And to backtrack, how do you feel when you don't get in that workout as compared to when you do?

It's Columbus

This morning, I registered myself* and Joe for the Nationwide Children's Hospital Columbus Marathon.  What a mouthful!  From now on, I'm going to go with "the Columbus Marathon."  A while back I posted that we'd be registering for the Detroit Free Press Marathon (or as I like to call it, "the Detroit Marathon").  We kinda slacked on registering and the fee shot up to $125--bummer.  Somewhat begrudgingly, I suggested Columbus instead, which is only $85 (yep, still too expensive to go for a run).  Although we won't get the cool opportunity to run into and out of Canada, we're saving $40!  Oh, wait.  We'll spend way more than that needing to stay at a hotel.  But it's the principle that matters, right?

I mentioned that I "begrudgingly" offered up the idea of running Columbus; I'm not crazy about Columbus.  What may come as a surprise is that it has little to do with my disinterest in o$Who.  I just feel like Columbus brings little to the table as far as being a "big city" in Ohio.  I've never spent time in Columbus and been sad to leave; I never want to road-trip it to Columbus just because; when driving through, I have no desire to make a pit-stop.  I'm sure that people who live in and near Columbus enjoy it, but for me, it just isn't a "cool" place to visit.  I know that lots of people feel the same way about Toledo, and that's fine.  The whole point is that I want to run marathons in "cool" places.  However, I know quite a few people who have run Columbus and/or are running it this year, so it'll be fun to share the experience.

Anywho, being registered makes me a lot more excited to train.  Rob wrote up a training plan for us to follow.  I'm looking forward to doing serious training this time around, having one marathon under my belt, knowing a bit of what to expect, and knowing what my shortcomings were the first time.  All of that considered, here are my goals in training for Columbus:

1. Learn the feeling of a pace.

2. Figure out fueling--before, during, and after a run.

3. Do speed work once per week.

What do you think?  What were your goals for your second marathon?  And if you're running the Columbus Marathon, what are your goals for it?

OH!  One last, but very important thing!  My friend, Natalie, sells really cool prints online.  She just made two awesome prints for marathoners.  I'm thinking about getting one for me, then one as a gift.  Check them out here and here!

*See how I used that?  "Myself" is a reflexive pronoun, meaning you are to use it when one does something to himself.  This means that phrases like, "I, myself, believe" or "I, myself, feel" are WRONG.

Cedar Point 5K Challenge 2012

If you know me and Joe even just a teeny-tiny bit, you know that we love amusement parks and theme parks.  We had discussed how cool it would be to run a race at Cedar Point.  Lo and behold, last year was the inaugural year of the Cedar Point 5K Challenge.  We got word of this year's race several months ago and registered immediately.  Yesterday (Father's Day) was race day.

On Saturday we drove out to Sandusky for packet pickup at Castaway Bay.  This packet was the packet of all packets.  Photo and details are on my Facebook page.  Afterwards we headed home and went to bed too late (after 11) for the early hour that we'd be rising (4:30ish).  I don't think I fell asleep until nearly 1:30AM, so I wasn't thrilled when the alarm went off.  We needed to get moving on that 1+ hour drive to Cedar Point, so there was no option to snooze.  For whatever reason, I volunteered to drive and once we got on the road, I realized that I should have been sleeping in the passenger seat.

Without incident of me falling asleep at the wheel, we arrived at Cedar Point to some light rain around 6:15.  We waited in the car for the rain to stop, and then closer to 6:30 we stepped out and into the nasty, warm, muggy air and played the waiting game.  The forecasted high in Sandusky was near 90 and at the time of the race, humidity was hovering around 90%.  The men's race was beginning at 7:00 and the women's at 7:30.  At packet pick-up, we heard that there were nearly 400 runners.  On race morning, that became "more than 350."  Race results show just short of 300.  We're thinking it's due to the number of runners and the tight space in some of the midways that men and women didn't run together--less congestion.

Just before the men's race, I wished Joe luck and gave him a firm but gentle go-get-em smack on the left butt cheek, watched him run into the park, and then waited some more.  As the female runners began straggling over to the starting line, I decided I'd try something new: a pre-race warm-up run.  I just did a few laps at a really easy pace around the back end of the parking lot.  About 7 minutes before my race started, I saw Joe approaching, blue Gatorade in hand.  He finished in 22:30!

At 7:30, I was off.  For the first two-tenths of a mile or so I struggled to reach a comfortable and safe pace; I started around 6:30, but finally got up to 7:30ish.  Once I got through all of the women who started the race too far in front, I was feeling good.  The route took us into the park at what is basically a service entrance between Disaster Transport and Space Spiral.  After that, I failed to really pay attention to my surroundings--rather than relishing in racing in one of my favorite amusement parks, I found myself focused on passing each runner I approached and contemplating whether or not I'd be able to pull off veering off-course to run through a sprinkler.

I mentioned that I got myself to a 7:30ish pace.  In front of Dodgem, I finished mile 1 in 7:38, which had me feeling good and certain that I'd PR.  Honestly, I didn't doubt for a second that I wouldn't PR, as my first and only other 5K was my first race ever, run in just over 28:00.  As I passed Millennium Force, I looked down at my Garmin and my pace was up around 7:50.  Crap.  I was really going to need to pick up the pace to get the 5-minute PR that I secretly wanted.  I just couldn't get my legs to move at the pace I needed.  I tried to think about what was holding me back: The thick, wet air?  The tight turn-around at Maverick?  These practically non-existent inclines?  No water in a 3-mile race?  Are you noticing that my excuses became more and more pansy-ish?

Mile 2 was at Camp Snoopy.  We ran through there, down the Dragster Midway, and turned left toward Windseeker.  In front of the Giant Wheel was a race volunteer, cheering us on and letting us know that there was only about a half-mile left; my Garmin confirmed that, showing 2.61.  At this point, it was obvious that I would get no chance to splash any water at my face, nor would I cross a sprinkler close enough to the course to not lose any time.  Nevertheless, I was feeling positive having passed a handful of people and not a single runner had passed me.

At about 2.8 miles, the rest of the race was a straight-away to the finish.  There was one young girl a bit ahead of me and one close behind.  The girl behind me kicked it into high gear around 2.9 and passed me, ending up a few yards ahead.  I passed Joe, cheering me on near the finish, and then high-tailed it, caught up to the girl who had just passed me, and finished one-tenth of a second behind the girl who had just been yards ahead of me.  My pace across the finish was 6:06, so I was feeling pretty beat once I hit the brakes.  I haven't run a lot of races (this was my 7th), but this was the first time that I thought I was going to dry-heave.  I kept composed on my way to the post-race refreshments, but didn't feel well enough to turn around and greet Joe just yet.

The results are in:

23:46.6 (PR!!!)

14/147 females

5/33 females 20-29
73/284 overall

Marathon training time--again!

The time has come to register for my second marathon.  Joe and I are going to run the Detroit Free Press Marathon together in October!  The timing for me couldn't be better--school's out for summer and I am finally back to feeling great after running in the morning.  I've felt lately that I need to register for Detroit ASAP to motivate me to run a little harder.  No more procrastinating for me, as this coming Sunday marks 18 weeks from October 21st.  Here we go!

For the few days after Glass City, although I was stiff, I was energized almost enough to register to run Cleveland a month later in May.  At the advice of my friends, I didn't do it, and about a week after Glass City, I was glad that I had swallowed my pride.  For about a month, either my IT band or my hamstring was hurting like the dickens, but generally while walking and not running.  I kept pretty quiet about it--I didn't want anyone to worry about me and I was kinda in denial.  I have been pain-free for several weeks now.  That should have gotten me back into kicking ass and taking names on the pavement, right?  Well, it didn't.

As the school year neared its end and my leg returned to its good health, I noticed I was a bit irritable.  Always on my mind was, "It's time to run more!"  I was frequently struggling to get up early enough to run before school and on the days that I was awake early enough, I couldn't get in more than 4 miles (my running group wouldn't compromise to start 10 to 15 minutes earlier).  I could have run after school, but with no "tangible" goal (not yet registered for another long race), I found myself happier to come home to clean, cook dinner, and relax.  Each day I'd inevitably and regretfully think, "I should have run instead."  It's totally true what "they" say: a runner who isn't running is a crab.  That's not any fancy saying, but you get the gist.  Wouldn't it be fun to see me transform into a crustacean, though?  I pinch.

My last day of work was last Monday.  I looked forward to using the week as my first 30+-mile week since the marathon.  I was heading down to South Carolina to visit my parents for Tuesday through Saturday, so my mom and I had planned to run each morning together.  My plan was to do 6 miles Wednesday and Thursday, 8 on Friday (20 miles), travel on Saturday, then do 10 or more on Sunday morning.  I did well Wednesday and Thursday, including one strong run in the heat and sunlight on the bridge to the right.  Friday morning came and I reluctantly did four miles--we had waited, in my opinion, too long to get out and run, and I don't so much enjoy running in heat and humidity.  When Sunday came, I was too beat from traveling and drinking beer the night before, so I figured I'd run that evening as the sun went down; that plan was shot when 8:00PM rolled around and it was still 90 degrees outside.  So I didn't get my 30-mile week.

This week, I am liberated from any restrictions.  I have no obligation to be anywhere other than home each morning, so I can take my time after our group runs and even tack on some extra miles afterwards.  This Sunday, Joe and I have a 5K at Cedar Point.  I still haven't decided what that means for the long run on Saturday morning.  Maybe I'll do it on Friday morning instead.

Beginning next Monday, it's training time for Detroit.  For Glass City, I loosely followed Hal Higdon's Intermediate 1.  I'm feelin' Intermediate 2 this time around.  Maybe I can get Joe to follow it with me.

Can you recommend a training plan for an intermediate runner like me?  Any big races on the docket for you in 2012?  Experience a post-race slump like I did?

Brazilian Blowout: My hair's savior

Those who have known me for many years know that my hair is naturally a hot mess.  My hair is thick and plentiful.  It also wants to be wavy as a mofo on one side of my head, while wavy AND curly on the other.  I try to not let people see me with my hair in its natural state.  Here is a rare glimpse at the untamed beast:

December, 2009.  Cookies = duck lips, hair = swoot.

Unnerving, right?  For about 12 years, I spent 45 minutes every other day drying and flat-ironing my hair.  I devoted nearly 100,000 minutes of my life to frying the ends of my hair, just to have straight locks.  Early in July, 2010, as I was having my hair cut and colored for the last time before our wedding at the end of the month, my stylist and colorist at Salon Hazelton worked their magic.  They convinced me that I would be a good candidate for a Brazilian Blowout (BB).  They told me that it would not only immediately improve my hair's health and appearance, but that I would no longer need to run that flat iron through my hair daily.  I thought it was too good to be true, but I was intrigued.  The three of us decided that it would be best to wait until after our wedding--if not for a few other reasons, all of the swimming I'd be doing in salt water a few weeks later on our honeymoon would lessen the strength of the application.  Brazilian Blowout had to wait.

http://www.brazilianblowout.com/bb_original/

I had read a little about the BB and became curious, but thought it was all too good to be true.  I found it difficult to find any legitimate negative reviews of the BB.  I did read some bad stuff about off-brand BB and similar keratin treatments, but I knew that at Salon Hazelton, they would only use the best of the best.  All of the hullabaloo about the product allegedly containing formaldehyde didn't bother me, either.

After a couple of months of toiling, I finally booked myself an appointment for my first BB in October, 2010.  The application of the BB intrigued me.  First, my hair was washed with some special shampoo to remove any and all doo-doo from my hairs.  Then, I was rinsed, not conditioned, and dried.  Nicole (my colorist) then put a little bit of fear into me--she put on some creepy, black latex gloves that I am pretty sure she does not wear when she colors my hair.  She spent about 30 minutes painting the BB onto my hair, section-by-section.  The smell is really very pleasant, almost floral and fruity.

Just when I felt like it was time to rinse this stuff off of my head, Nicole blew my mind--literally!  Ba-zing!  The BB was not rinsed, but instead blown dry into my hair.  This is the only part of the process that has ever bothered me.  Every time since the first, it has been about halfway through blowing dry that I have experienced some temporary irritation in my nose; it's not nearly as bad as the burning irritation I remember from getting a perm in 1994.  Once I was all good and dry, I was a bit concerned--I got a peek in the mirror and saw that my hair was still a big, poofy, wavy mess.  Did the BB fail?  Is my hair hopeless?  And am I going to have to pay for this?!

No, no, and no.  Wait, yes to that last one.  The BB is sealed in and becomes effective with heat, so the final step to the process was flat-ironing the treatment into my hair.  My limited understanding is that some of us have wavy wigs because our hairs are porous.  With heat, the keratin/protein in the BB fills in all of those pores.  The result is instantly healthier hair AND complete resistance against humidity.  Read: NO MORE FRIZZ!

The masque.

I left Salon Hazelton that day happier than I had ever been after a hair appointment in the past.  Hmm, maybe I was a bit happier/giddier after getting my wedding-do.  But anywho, I was so excited to show off my beautiful new hair to Joe.  It was recommended that I wait a couple of days before washing for the first time.  During that couple of days, despite my worries, my hair did not get greasy or nasty at all.  When I finally washed, as instructed, I did so without shampoo and instead with a masque.  After showering, I busted out my blow dryer.  After less than ten minutes, my hairs were completely dry, smooth, and straight.  Best of all was that I did not at all need my flat iron.  I was so happy that I cried.

Since then, I think I have had three or four BBs.  I had my last BB about three months ago--each treatment maintains its strength for three to four months, largely depending on how often you wash your hair.  During marathon training, I was washing six to seven times per week and my BB is still holding strong.  Here is a photo of me just a couple of days ago with freshly blown-dry, but unflat-ironed hair.

A smile only achieved with hair serenity.

You can see that I am starting to get some of my little fly-away wingies around my face, but check out how straight and smooth the rest of it looks!  It may sound corny, but the BB has made me so much more confident as I do not constantly need to worry about frizz and kinks or my hair flipping up in the back.  Perhaps most importantly, I have been able to save so much time without all of the lengthy blow-drying (15 to 20 minutes) and flat-ironing (another 20 or so).

Admittedly, something that kept me away from the BB initially was the cost.  Lots of articles online suggest that a BB will run anyone at least $300 per treatment.  I learned that is only true in big markets, such as LA and New York.  If you go to an upscale salon in the Midwest, the real BB is a fraction of what it costs in the big cities. Look at it this way: the treatment lasts months, so one BB every three to four months costs far less than getting hair colored even more often--that is, if you are willing to spend so much on color every couple of months, you should be able to justify the amount you spend on the BB less frequently.

Long story short: If you have ever thought about getting a BB, find a salon that does the real thing and get it done.

Update: Just got another BB on Friday, June 1st.  Above is what my hair looked liked after the first time I washed it, one day later.  I used my usual Aveda Smooth Infusion Style Prep and Damage Remedy Daily Hair Repair.  I have been told I don't need to be using the Damage Remedy, but I use it anyway.  I blew it dry on medium heat WITHOUT a comb or brush.  Amazing, huh?

Does your hair drive you crazy?  Are you thinking about getting a BB?  Do you think I'm awful for subjecting Nicole to those "harmful fumes" quarterly?

Who's hungry?

It's been a minute since I've posted any recipes, so allow me this opportunity over the next couple of days to share with you a couple of my original favorites from the past month.


Citrus and cayenne glazed Coho salmon with roasted asparagus and red pepper risotto.  We had some cedar grilling planks from William-Sonoma since last summer, so I got them soaking the night prior.  I bought all of the goodies at Walt Churchill's Market--more to be said about Churchill's later.  My plan was to try to make some beurre blanc for the asparagus, but I chucked that for something even less tedious.  I understand that beurre blanc is very easy to make, so I will try it another day.  Arborio rice is always in our cupboard because I have a love affair with risotto.

For the 2 Coho salmon fillets:
1/3 cup orange marmelade
1 t cayenne pepper
2 t brown sugar
1 dash garlic powder

Then the asparagus:
8 stalks asparagus, ends snapped off
2 T white wine vinegar
2 T unsalted butter
1 t sea salt
1 t freshly-ground black pepper

And finally, the queen mother of sides--the risotto:
1 cup arborio rice
1 small shallot, chopped
1/3 cup Chardonnay
1 T unsalted butter
1 T extra virgin olive oil
3 cups chicken stock, heated and kept at a simmer
1/3 cup fire-roasted, peeled, and diced red bell pepper
1/3 cup freshly grated parmesan
freshly-ground black pepper

Heat your gas grill to medium and throw the cedar plank onto it.  Let it hang out in there for a little while.  Throw the asparagus stalks into some tinfoil with the white wine vinegar, butter and so forth.  That's right--I didn't even melt the butter, let alone combine/emulsify it with the vinegar.  Close up the foil and set it aside for when you put the fillets onto the plank.

Over medium heat in a medium saute pan, heat 1 T butter with the olive oil.  Let it warm up just a tad before adding the arborio rice.  Get it all coated really nicely.  When things start to make a little noise, add the shallot.  Combine everything and let it cook until the shallot is slightly translucent.  The pan should be nice and hot by this point.  Pour in the white wine, combine everything, and let the wine cook down on its own--save your stirring muscles for the chicken stock.  Once the rice absorbs the wine, add one ladle of chicken stock.  Stir constantly with a wooden spatula until the stock is absorbed, then add another ladle and repeat.  With such a small batch of risotto, you'll only be doing this for about 20 minutes.  After your last ladle of stock is absorbed, turn off the heat.  Throw in the red peppers, stir in the parmesan, and finish it off with some black pepper.  When it comes to black pepper, I like a lot more than less.

Heat the orange marmelade in a small glass bowl in the microwave for about 30 seconds at about medium power.  It hurts me to use the microwave, but I could not justify dirtying another pan for such a small amount of glaze.  Throw in the cayenne, brown sugar, and garlic powder and combine it well.  Now is the time to put the salmon fillets onto that plank on the grill.  Put the fillets scale-side down.  Oh, did I forget to mention that I like to keep the scales on my salmon?  We have a phenomenal knife to fillet off those scales with ease, and the great folks behind the seafood counter at Churchill's, or any quality grocer, with remove them for you if you request it.  However, I like to keep the scales on to avoid any of that delicious meat from sticking to the cooking surface.  Anywho, scale-side down onto the plank.  Put the asparagus, in its foil, on the top rack of your grill or over a low burner.  Close the lid and let everything hang out for about 8 minutes.  At that point, you are going to brush that orange glaze onto each salmon fillet.  Close the lid again and let everything cook for another few minutes.  Take it all off of the grill and you've got dinner.

The asparagus is rather sour with that white wine vinegar, but I liked it.  The was initially a turn-off for me, since we usually roast our asparagus in the oven just with extra virgin olive oil, with which it maintains a beautiful bright green hue.  I will definitely make this asparagus again, though.  I feel like you can't go wrong with risotto--the key is to using enough stock AND making sure the rice fully absorbs it all.  And the salmon?  Well, I thought it was the bomb.  Try it and let me know what you think.  And if you have any fun risotto recipes, please share!


Next time: a picture of my chicken parmesan.  Sorry--no sharing that recipe.

No Excuses

Since I started running in July 2011, I have received a lot of praise. Or maybe "admiration" is a better word. Nope, nope; ego-boosting. Yeah, that's it. Thanks to everyone who has made me feel like I am doing something really good for myself. Not to say I need it--thanks to the great exercise and all of those endorphins, the way I feel physically and mentally now is the best I have ever felt.

Even so, I still encounter some nay-sayers.

"Running is horrible for your joints, so your body is going to hate you later in life."

Weird. My mom has been running for like, 25 years and is still going strong. I know another woman who, at 60-something years old, is running faster than most people my age can. And have you seen how fast some of those mall-walkers move? Yes, there are some people who suffer at older ages because of the hell through which they put their younger bodies while running. I'm willing to take the risk of some joint issues in lieu of being a sedentary blob fighting diabetes, high cholesterol, and heart disease.

"The first guy to run 26.2 miles died from it."

I think it's safe to assume that he didn't properly train for that fateful run through Greece or whatever.  Oh yeah, and he had just completed a battle immediately prior to running.  Probably didn't hydrate, fuel, or wear wicking materials to keep his body cool, either. Our bodies CAN do amazing things like completing marathons, half-marathons, 10Ks, 5Ks, and even 1-milers. You've got to start somewhere.

"I wish I could do what you're doing, but I just don't have the time for it."

Way to imply that your life is so much busier than mine. But do you really think it is? Most of us work and have responsibilities on top of that. Joe works easily 50 to 60 hours per week and has class until 9:00PM two nights per week, but still fits in a one-hour workout 5 days per week AND runs four to five days on top of that. I run with women and men who have 2 and 3 kids and who have been running since said kids were crapping their pants; some of them are even single parents. My own mom started running when I was a baby. You might not have the time the way you do things now, but you can definitely make it.

"No excuses" was the cheesy motto our boys tennis team used in high school. There are definitely no excuses.

Glass City Marathon 2012--Part 2

April 22nd: The morning I had anticipated for nearly four months.  Since the end of December, I had given up a lot of things that I think only Joe could really have noticed.  I cut out tons of alcohol; I rarely had even a drink on a Friday night, on Saturday nights, if I drank at all, it was a short glass of Jack Daniels and some Diet Coke, and I could only think about the joy of enjoying wine with dinner during the week.  I was no fun on week nights, usually getting a bit grumpy if I wasn't asleep by 10:30.  The most difficult sacrifice for me was the time I gave up spending with Joe to instead go for an evening run a few days each week.  It was all worth it, though, especially since Joe was training pretty much simultaneously.

I wanted to get on the road to UT no later than 5:30AM, which, on a normal day, would have as at UT no later than 6:00.  Race start wasn't until 7:00, but the two most direct routes to UT had both been backed up the past  few days due to construction.  I learned at the Fall Classic in November how important it is to arrive early and to take advantage of a lot of that waiting-around time to pee and then get back into line to wait to pee again.  When we were still not out the door at 5:35, my stress intensified.  I didn't want to let that put me into a funk and, as Joe usually needs to remind me in stressful situations, things typically work themselves out just fine, so I told myself to simmer down.  The only traffic we encountered was waiting to park at UT.  Phew.

Joe went off to find himself a bathroom without a line and I waited for Tammy, Alex, and Alyssa.  Once I found them I had spent way too much time not worried about anything, so I started running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to find Joe.  After a solid five minutes of me panicking, I located Joe and all together we found a bathroom with no line.  It really wasn't a challenge--directly up the elevator were a whole bunch of bathrooms, but I guess they had cooties or something because everyone else preferred to wait in lines downstairs.  I still haven't experienced a cootie-outbreak from said bathroom.

From the toilets, it was off to the start line.  It was a cold 39ish degrees, so over my tech tee I wore arm warmers and my super-sweet Toledo Road Runners 25K hoodless sweatshirt.  We worked our way in near the 8:30 pace group.  What a small world it is--at least one of us knew pretty much everyone standing directly around us.  By this point, I don't remember feeling any stress; instead, I felt the same giddiness and excitement that I had until Saturday.  The shotgun sounded, our walk toward the starting line gradually sped up to a jog, the road widened, and we were off.  I immediately separated myself from Joe, Tammy, Alex, and Alyssa--they were running the half and I was on my own for the full, so I didn't want to wear myself out by hanging with them early in the race.  I was feeling great, smiling as we snaked through and out of campus and into Old Orchard.

The spectators in Old Orchard were great and it surprised me to see how many people from the neighborhood were out to support us runners.  Some were playing music, others held signs, and a few rang cow bells.  The first water stop was on Kenwood, which is where I got rid of my super-sweet Toledo Road Runners 25K hoodless sweatshirt.  I was kind of sad to say goodbye to that ugly thing, but I was already warming up a bit.  The race route then took us through Ottawa Hills, which I feel also had awesome crowd support.  I never realized before how hilly Ottawa Hills is--definitely not any challenging inclines, but enough to call it rolling and offer fun terrain for running.

Bad camera angle; not a heel-strike.

I think it was at the next water stop where I shed my arm warmers.  Eventually we were in Wildwood Park, which is where I tried to down my first PowerBar Gel.  Like a dimwit, I had waited until Friday night to try to find my Kona Punch Gels.  Second Sole didn't have them, so I tried Dave's at the expo on Saturday, but they didn't have them either, so I had to settle for Vanilla that the nice young man from Second Sole brought to the expo and hid just for me.  Back to the race, I was able to get down about half to maybe three-quarters of the Vanilla Gel at that water stop.  I did the same thing later in the race--I think around mile 13 or so.  I really don't know if Gels, Sport Beans, Shot Blocks, or Gus help me at all, but I guess it's better to be safe than sorry.  I do know that I felt stronger during the race than I did during my 18-mile long run, during which I think I had about half of a Kona Punch Gel.  I don't really think I can fairly compare the race to my 20-miler, since that consisted of a 7-mile warm-up sans Gel, an hour and a half break, then the Churchill's Half Marathon with, again, about half of one Gel.  I'll need to keep on experimenting.

Power walking?

Miles one through fourteen flew by, mostly because I was enjoying myself so much and so happy to finally be running a marathon.  We split from the halfers around mile 10 and it was heading into mile 14 that I was feeling a little bored for the first time.  Of note, through that point I had maintained a solid 8:30 pace--15 seconds faster than what I should have been doing.  No worries.  We were in some lame Sylvania neighborhood in which virtually NO ONE was out to watch the race.  Everywhere traffic was stopped for us, motorists were doing their best at looking impatient.  Some laid on their horns, not in a supportive or fun way, but instead in a, "Fuck you, runners!" way.  In one of the Sylvania neighborhoods, a resident actually pulled out of his driveway in between runners and then honked at some of us to get out of the way.  I shouldn't have been surprised, since it was Sylvania, but it got me a little bit fired up.

Despite my not-so-positive feelings toward Sylvania, I loved running through Olander Park.  There was a water stop and relay exchange right before the lake at mile 16 and the crowd there was phenomenal.  They made me feel like a rock star, some even yelling my name.  The crazy love and enthusiasm for us runners there made me smile the biggest, cheesiest smile.  Also of note: there was almost an incident with a family of geese and a runner on the path around the lake.  Fortunately, no humans were bit and said geese were cooperative.

Right before Alyssa found me--still smiling!

Everything was awesome until mile 18, which is where I noticed that my feet hurt and my pace had slowed to closer to 8:40.  I had never experienced foot pain in a training run, or at least I had never noticed it.  I got over it quickly, though.  Some friends had told me that somewhere between mile 18 and mile 22 I'd either start talking to God or need to go to my "happy place."  Mentally, things were great through mile 22.  However, the bike path heading back toward campus was a little bit of a head game.  It was at the second-to-last water stop that I, for the first time, partially walked through.  I felt that at that point I really needed to make sure I was getting enough water, which I couldn't have done had I run through like at all of the previous stops.  Getting my legs running again was a bit of a challenge, as they felt kinda stiff and beat up at that point.  One of my last few miles was 10:03.  Around that same time, I found myself with the 3:50 pacer.  I asked him if he was good for offering some kind of motivation, to which he responded, "Not now.  I'm just trying to finish."  Should it have been discouraging that a pacer was struggling?  Meh, didn't bother me.  I smiled, chuckled, and carried on.

Intense.  I passed them all.

I crossed mile 25 and shortly thereafter was greeted with clapping and a hearty, "There's my favorite runner!"  It was Alyssa, waiting to run me into the finish.  I like Alyssa a lot, but I had never been happier to see her.  I am never going to forget what a relief it was to have someone there for me to talk and get my mind off of the fact that I had already run further than most people drive their cars in a day.  We walked through the last water stop, where I had to decline a Bud Light, and then began the descent toward the Glass Bowl.  Tammy and Susan were waiting just before mile 26 to join us.  They probably don't believe it, given the sense of humor I had, but I was in a zone.  Had I not been in that zone, having the three of them there with me probably would have brought me to cornball tears.



All the way to the entrance to the Glass Bowl, Alyssa was my personal hype-man, getting the spectators to give it up for me finishing my first marathon.  As we approached the stadium, Alyssa told me that when I hit that turf, I had to give it all I had left, run as fast as possible, and pass everyone I could.  She shoved me toward the turf.  When I crossed the finish, I was doing 5:55.  I got my bad-ass finishers medal, a Mylar blanket, and a hug and kiss from Joe.

Looking strong, I must say!

I ran my first marathon in 3:53:20.

Glass City Marathon 2012--Part 1

Back in December, just before the new year, I registered to run the Glass City Marathon--my first full marathon.  I wasn't completely sure what I was getting myself into, and I don't think I was taking things too seriously initially.  For the first couple of weeks following that, other marathoners here and there asked about my training plan (uh, what?).  I got a wake-up call when a ding-dong in our Saturday morning group asked in her typical ding-dong way, "So, when are you going to start training?"  Since I am used to her asking, uh, not the best questions, my immediate response was chock-full of irritation.  "I am training.  This is training."  After all, we were doing an 8-mile run.  Now and then I'd make that 8-miler into 10 or 12.  But for the few minutes immediately following her question as we ran up the towpath in Side Cut Park, I thought, "When am I going to start training?"

I took a lot of advice, most of which led to Hal Higdon.  It was recommended that I follow his Intermediate 1 marathon training plan.  Coincidentally, I was getting more than enough miles on weekdays, but I had technically already missed a couple of longer long runs.  I just jumped right into where I should have been had I actually given the entire training plan 18 weeks.  Quickly, things began falling into place.  I made a couple of mistakes on the way up to maximum mileage, like running 11+ miles in the middle of the week just because I was feeling it.  Instead of real speed work, I made my Thursday night run into a run-like-hell 3-miler.  I only ran 15.5 miles on a day on which I should have run 17.  I even completely missed my second 20-miler, I think because I was sick, and final 12-miler because of a road trip and poor planning.  Online, I read blogs of other runners who resented that they made such mistakes in their training and that it led in all cases to inevitable disappointing marathon finishes.  Still, none of that discouraged me.

All of that got me to the morning of April 21st pretty much bursting with excitement.  I got out of bed and did my final training run--2 miles.  I felt fresh and so ready for 26.2 the next day.  The day went on, Joe went golfing in the afternoon, and I was left to my own devices at home, of course staying off of my feet.  Pretty much as soon as Joe left the house, I flipped the switch from excitement into freak-out mode.  I had a freaking swarm of butterflies in my stomach.  I couldn't attach the feeling to any single problem or worry.  I wasn't concerned about not reaching my goal time.  I didn't think I'd be a DNF.  The possibility of injury never crossed my mind.  I was just nervous.

We went out for pizza with Tammy, Alex, and Alyssa (all of whom would be running the half with Joe).  Throughout dinner I felt nauseous; the feeling subsided temporarily when Joe and I had a killer draw in Keno.  I was starving, so I inhaled a couple of slices of pizza and breadsticks.  I tried for a final slice of pizza, but hit the wall and suddenly craved french fries.  I destroyed a basket of those in what had to be record time.  Hmm, all of this talk of hitting walls and record time...and it's only dinner the night before the race. :)

Joe and I got home around 9:00.  We attached our bibs and laid out all of our gear for the next morning.  I attached some athletic tape with my name written in Sharpie to my shirt.  We got into bed and I shared my woes with Joe.  I told him I was going to end up with an ulcer, given how worried I was.  He laughed at me, which made me feel good inside, we turned off the TV, he fell asleep, and I just lay there, wide awake.  By 11:20 I still wasn't asleep, so I popped a Zolpidem.  Good night.

At 4:50AM I woke up to go pee.  The alarm went off for Joe at 5:01 and our day was underway.  In 2 hours, I'd be starting my first ever 26.2-mile race.