Time for some Blogorrhea

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it's been a long time and I am truly sorry for that. To my 3 dedicated readers (1 in prison), your prayers have been answered for now is the time to get out your comfy chairs, big cups of coffee, reading glasses and yes, read away.

Since I can't even remember specifics about runs/training, I'll give you a quick mileage breakdown of the last few weeks.

4/3: 2 miles ran (treadmill)
4/4: 4 miles ran (hill training in Central Park)
4/7: 12.8 miles ran ( 2+ full loops in Central Park)
4/10: 2 miles ran(treadmill)
4/11: 4.5 miles ran (hill training again)
4/14: 13.1 miles ran (Brooklyn Half-Marathon, yeah baby!)
4/18: 6 miles ran (f' hill training yet again in CP - I hate you, Cat Hill)

The Hill Training has definitely been the least fun, but probably the most beneficial. If you don't know Central Park well, Cat Hill is on the east side right around the mid 70s. It's a long incline with this one real bitch of a climb followed by more little hills. A few weeks back we did this training in the rain when it was 30 degrees out - that was by far my least favorite training ever. It was so bad that about 75% of the team stayed home - slackers!

Ok, on to marathoning biz. So, yes, technically it's not a full marathon, but hey, it still has the word marathon in it - I completed my first Half-Marathon in Brooklyn last Saturday. 13.1 miles of "why am I doing this?" followed by hours of feeling very satisfied along with a sense of accomplishment.

The day started off quite rough - my f' alarm clock going off at 4:45. Yes, you read that right, as in the time I used to get home on a Friday night. Struggled with that for a bit, had some crap breakfast, put on all my sexy gear (see nut hugger pants), put on more Body Glide that probably allowed by law and off it was (still pitch black by the way) to the Road Runners Head Quarters on E. 89th. They had buses set up to take runners all the way to Coney Island, the starting point. Even though I was 3/4 asleep at 5:45, I still could not fail to notice that these buses were of the cheese variety. Yup, public school, kidney buster buses. Oh well, take a nap and forget about it I thought; that was until our driver got lost. How do you get lost when it's your job to get people to a certain place? Me, snotty know-it-all New Yorker had to give this guy directions on how to get to the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel. There must have been a reason I sat up front I thought. After that snafu, we were on our way - arrival time 7am, 1 hour before start time.

I made a very wise decision at this point to get rid of any excessive fluids (yes, pee) in one of the many gorgeous porta potties. Luckily, I did this at 7 and not 7:30 when the lines were about 30 deep. I met up with the team, bitched about how it was cold and I was tired and after Roxie decided to award me the "whiny" award, it was time to really get ready. To the starting gate.

To say there were a lot of people there is an understatement. I have never run before with that many people. If you have claustrophobia, avoid starting lines. And all of these people, smiling at 8 in the morning, with an ocean breeze cooling your you know whats off right before they were about to put their bodies through an abnormally long run - what the hell is wrong with runners? Are they drinking the Kool Aid - they all must be in some secret cult-like society I have not been made privy to...yet. I digress, 3...2...1... go and we're off, but not really because the real runners are ahead of you and it's gonna be a while before you even get past the staring line (3 minutes to be exact). I lined up with the 9 minute milers as I thought it'd be more fun to pass than to get passed - this def worked, especially once we had some room to breathe. It was 8:03 and I had just started my very first Half Marathon. There would be another hour and fifty-five minutes to come.
To be continued...

Sorry for the Hiatus, Check Back Tomorrow

Just got "The Internet" at my new place. Please forgive the lack of posts (to the 3 of you who read this).

Listen kiddies, I have my first half Marathon tomorrow in Brooklyn - that's right 13.1 miles of sheer fughetaboutit. After I finish it (going for sub 2 hrs) I will be dedicating a few hours to blogging (ya think funny takes only a few minutes?). Check back tomorrow night to see if I did, in fact, not die on mile 12...and keep the good vibes and donations coming.

Mad love,
Concado

ps: Leave some comments, goddamnit! Let me know you exist, even if you want to be anonymous. I have a frail ego - I need the vailidation.

Scottish Guiness

There are a few things in life that by themselves are great, but when mixed with another element, can only lead to trouble. Saturday night/Sunday morning proved this to me in a most unfun way. Saturday night, to celebrate my 10 mile run I went to see one of my favorite newish bands, Bloc Party. I was lucky to get a last minute ticket from my friend, Amy - thanks kid. Bloc Party was really great - lots of energy and made the people who took the hike up to Washington Heights feel like it was well worth it. Albert Hammond, Jr. of Strokes fame, was a surprisingly decent opener as well. During and after the show a few beers were had and then decision time came. To continue or to call it a night. At 11:30 on the night before a 9:30 race, the latter would have been the more prudent decision, but I ain't no prude...to the bar hommies. It was my friend, Kajan's birthday and she was awash in beer and karaoke at Keat's in midtown. Kajan was quite excited to see me - people are surprised when I come out now bc of this whole marathon thing - hello, I'm still fun! This was midnight. Before I knew it, I had run into an old acquaintance of mine and established rapport with the bar staff. Big shoutouts to Dan for keeping the Guiness flowing and to Dawn for being, well, hot and Irish (not in any particular order). After a few more drinks and a drunken rendition of "To All The Girls I've Loved Before" ala Julio Iglesias it was finally time to catch a cab. Arrival time at new home: 4 AM.

Five hours later, the sound of my awful alarm clock shocked me into a frenzied "oh shit" state. I was sure I had overslept and missed the Scotland Run race in Central Park. I'm not going to lie, I was pretty happy, thinking "oh well, at least I can sleep through this headache," but it was not to be because I then noticed that it was in fact only 9, which still gave me time to haul ass over to the Park. One month ago, I would have said "f it" and gone back to bed, but something's changed in me and I stumbled to my feet, brushed my teeth almost threw up not once, but twice, and made it to the starting line as the fast runners were starting. This was a 10K, or 6.2 miles and I was suppose to pace myself. In theory, my time should have been slower than the 4 mile race I did a few weeks back. I felt so sick from the beginning that I did the opposite. I noticed that my first mile was just over 7 minutes which for me is ridiculous, so I had to slow down. The next 2 miles were a little more normal at around 9 minutes. Mile 4 is where it became mental. I had my water and literally (and this is gross) burped the taste of Guiness. I thought about walking a mile, but I saw this 70 year old woman doing that and thought, "no way." Put the shuffle on 10 and blasted whatever upbeat song I could find. The last 2 miles were a complete blur. I really felt fatigued at the end and surprise, surprise I still somehow managaed to pull off my fastest NYRR mile pace to date - 8:42. I had a bagel, looked at people in kilts, and decided to go home and die. Guiness and running...bad. Nap and chicken parm for lunch...good. Lesson learned.

Miles Ran: 6.2
Weekend Miles: 16
Dawn: call me

I....Hurt Myself Today

Well, not today (I just was thinking of the NIN song). Actually last Wednesday I pulled my quad while sprinting in Central Park and I was in pain. So much so, I had to stop and stretch for about a half hour and then swallow my pride and "give up" for the night. We were working on a level 4 (highest level) mile, followed by a second and a third to get an idea of our ideal pace. The coaches told us our 2nd and 3rd miles would be between 15-30 seconds slower (I never got that chance). I decided to run my first mile with the advanced group because I knew that I could definitely hang for at least the first mile. Also, there's less of them and I didn't want to feel crowded. I shot out and got off to a very fast pace, but then I felt it almost instantly, my right quad. I was not going to stop and I didn't. I knew once I stopped, the pain would only worsen and pretty much right there I knew that once I stopped I was done. 7:02 minutes later, almost completely out of breath and ready to hurl, my mile was over. I repeat, 7 minutes later. If you don't think that's fast, try that on a flat treadmill and then if you can pull that off, see if you can do it in hilly Central Park. My fastest mile, ever. I did pay the price though as I limped my sorry-ass home.

Saturday was redemption time. Feeling still a little shaky with the quad, but much better overall, we decided to go out for 10. Roxie and I were thinking 12, but we both had a race the following day and wanted to save something for it. Good call. We did one full loop, then followed it up with a middle loop to finish the 10. Second trip around sucked and we were both feeling it. I was worried about the quad, but I shortened my stride to avoid the stretch on it and kept to a very manageable pace, about 10 minute miles. I now know the trails in CP like a pro. I know when the hills are coming and when there's stretches of grass to run along as well so I'm better mentally prepared for those longer runs.

Afterwards, we were invited to a TNT event called "Connection to the Cause." After chowing down on some bagels, we were invited to the auditorium where we were pretty much thanked for being awesome (duh!) and raising all of this money. We were also shown a video dealing with a leukemia survivor who benefited from the L & L Society's help and how he was giving back by volunteering at a hospital with another kid battling leukemia. I'm not gonna lie, when you combine cheesy music (see Coldplay) and images of little kids going through chemotherapy, it's kind of impossible to not be touched. I was in the company of a lot of women (as I always am at TNT events) and I cried, but hid it damn well. Just a drop, but damnit that video moved me.

I have doubts about this marathon thing - I've said that since day one. Can I do it? Will I do it? Can I raise the money I've committed to raise? Will people hate me if I bug them to donate? etc etc, but seeing that kid smile after years of chemo and dealing with a life no child deserves made me feel good that I'm doing something that's not about me. I guess I've grown up a bit. Life's too short to only worry about your own shit. Ya gotta do your part - I hope this marathon thing is only the beginning of me doing "my part." It's hard, but so is sitting on your ass and accepting complacency.

ps: I ran 3 miles the night before injuring myself from the East Village to the U.N. and back.

Miles Ran: 3+1+10=14
Tears Spilt: 0 (I caught them in my hand)