Barefoot Running, and the Eye-Opening Watch Debacle

As I mentioned last week, I have made it my goal to lose the plantar fasciitis that has been bugging me for over a year. I got a new pair of minimalist shoes (which are all the rage in the running community) to help me alter my running form. I am a shameful heel striker, and I am on a mission to change that.

I tried out my new (PURPLE) sneakers, and they felt great. I also tried landing on my midfoot on a treadmill, and that felt OK too. But overall, it still felt pretty awkward. I didn’t know where to bend, what to bend, or where to land. As it turns out, changing your running form after years of wearing cushioned sneakers does not happen overnight.

So I decided to do some research. I Googled “Barefoot Running,” and came across a book written by a guy appropriately named “Barefoot Ken Bob.” The book, Barefoot Running Step by Step, chronicles how Ken, who is widely considered as the Guru of barefoot running, came to run 76 marathons (you guessed it) – barefoot. I didn’t actually buy the book, but Amazon's preview gives you quite a bit of pages to read without dipping into your electronic wallet.

Ken’s “Most Important Lesson” in the book to help you run barefoot – bend your knees. It seems so simple. But then I thought about it, and remembered this photo from the Brooklyn Half-Marathon:

My legs are almost completely straight. What happens when your legs are straight? You heel strike. What happens when your legs are bent? You land on the balls of your feet.

When I got home from work, I tried on a pair of Nike Frees that Keith lent me to try out, and went for a bent-knees run. And it worked!

Ken talks about how bending your knees fixes a lot of problems all at once – it makes you land on the balls of your feet (which absorbs the shock, and in turn decreases the chance of injury), and you are automatically set up to run in a forward motion. It was incredible to me how bending my knees naturally made me go faster, and it felt effortless. I was intending to go out for an easy jog since I did a five-mile run yesterday morning, but I ended up clocking in at an 8:33 pace (which is on the quicker side for me).

Barefoot Ken - notice the bent knees.

So what’s next? Well as most running rules go, do everything in moderation. My body isn’t used to this new form, so I’m going to try and ease into it. I want to try out running barefoot on the track by my apartment, and slowly incorporate this new technique into my daily runs. Also, marathon training starts next week (!!!), and I want to be as injury-free as possible. I have noticed, however, that my IT band that is normally a little sore, feels much better this week. A byproduct of the midfoot strike? Perhaps.

**(For more info on barefoot running, check out Ken’s book or his website, barefootrunning.com. I do not claim to be an expert on this stuff, or on anything really, so the above is just what I saw as the key takeaways).

After my first bent-knee run, I plugged my Garmin watch into my computer to upload both my morning and evening runs. While I do love my watch, it has a really hard time reading a charge or connecting to my computer. It takes me about five minutes to figure out how to connect it to anything, and it gives me serious rage that normally only comes from a crowded subway ride. During last night’s fit, my Garmin went completely blank. More rage. Keith and I tried fiddling with it, but nothing happened.

I became slightly dramatic, and was trying to plot out the time it would take for the manufacturer to fix it. JUST as I am about to embark on an 18-week long running voyage, my amazing GPS, pace-keeping watch decides to pucker out. My life is so hard.

At the end of my rant, Keith said very wisely, “You know, people were running before there was technology.” Bam. The birds began to sing, and the stars aligned. I began to think about his comment more, and I realized that I did my entire marathon training last year with my cheap, pink Timex watch. No GPS, no pace updates. Often times, I left it at home. During the actual marathon, I think I only looked at it three times.

In a dramatic statement that I will probably regret later, I have decided to run one day a week without a watch. I will need it for speed work, and I will probably want it on my long runs to see how many more times I need to run over the Williamsburg Bridge to make 18 miles, but I’m going to pick one easy run and forego my beloved technology.

I don’t want to become a slave to my paces or lose sight of why I started running – for fun. I truly loved training last year, and while it was a bit tiring at times, I never lost sight of why I signed up in the first place. I wanted to complete a marathon, and I wanted to enjoy it.

Starting next week, I will begin ramping up my mileage quite a bit, and to avoid becoming burned out, I’m going to check into the mindset that worked for me so well last year. I’m going to train for a marathon, and it’s going to be awesome.

(In case you were worried, I figured out how to turn my watch back on. Google solves everything)

Brooklyn Half-Marathon Race Recap

After training for 12 weeks, the day finally came. I ran the Brooklyn Half-Marathon, and it was awesome.

As I’ve said before, last year’s race was quite terrible, and it taught me a lot about running (like how running on a treadmill is nothing like running outside. You heard it first from me). I was undertrained and unprepared for 13.1 miles of pavement, and almost swore off running because of it. But this year’s race was a completely different experience for me.

I trained for the half using Hal Higdon’s intermediate training schedule, which had me running a lot. There were speedwork sessions, tempo runs, easy runs, pace runs and long runs. I became accustomed to running faster and longer, and really tested my legs. I felt confident that I would be able to run this year’s race faster than the debacle of 2011, but I didn’t know what race day would bring.

I spent Friday drinking a lot of water. And I mean a lot. So much I had water belly. After doing a bit of research after last year’s race, I realized I had all of the symptoms of dehydration. I didn’t want to take any chances this year.

Friday night, I headed to Jillian’s apartment, where fellow racers and I carbed up on gnocchi, penne, garlic bread and cookies. I also brought some colorful Macarons from Cookie Road in Greenpoint, which were a hit.

How can you not love macarons from a place called Cookie Road?

I followed my little routine the night before a race – pinned my bib on my shirt, put my clif shot in my running capris, threw in a change of clothes in a bag, and chugged some Gatorade. I was all ready to fall asleep and dream of happy running things… when I heard a really loud bass sound in my apartment. After some investigating, I realized the apartment below mine was having a party. Awesome.

I became nervous and mad. Of all nights! So I tried putting my headphones in to fall asleep to J.K. Rowling, and eventually dozed off around 12:30AM. And when I felt like my head had just hit the pillow, my alarm woke me up at 4:50AM.

I went the stress-free route of taking a cab to the start of the race, where I could happily munch on my breakfast and Vita Coco and not worry about getting there late. I got to the start at 6:00AM on the dot just like NYRR told me to, and the nervous knots in my stomach showed up.

Grand Army Plaza!
It's way too early for exclamation points.

This year’s race seemed to be a lot more organized – either that, or the man with the microphone by the porta potties was on a power trip. I knew exactly when I needed to drop off my bag, get in line for the toilets, and finally, when to head to the corrals. I am good at following directions.

Lotta potties.

For most of the other NYRR races I’ve done, I’m in the corrals for about five minutes max. On Saturday, it was closer to 20 minutes. I was getting a little claustrophobic as the guy stretching next to me had serious spacial-awareness issues, but it wasn’t anything a little iPod mixing couldn’t fix (no classic corral pic this time – I was a minimalist and only carried with me my clif shot, credit card, and a twenty. I roll deep). Before I knew it, we were off.

Courtesy of NYRR
I WILL make it into one of their photo albums someday 

Even though I stopped at the porta potties before the race, all the day drinking on Friday must have really filled me up. During Mile 1, I realized I already had to go again. I am cursed with a small bladder.

I clocked in Mile 1 at 8:07, and I told myself to slooow down. The first few miles of the course were completely unfamiliar to me, so I was trying to gauge my pace against the terrain as best I could. I located a string of porta potties at around mile 1.5 that didn’t have a huge line, and told myself that adding 60 seconds to my time was inconsequential to the whole race (last year, I had a full bladder around Mile 8 but I didn't stop and it was unpleasant. I learn from my mistakes). The pit stop thus explains the outlier pace at Mile 2: 9:37.

My legs didn’t feel so great between miles 3-5, which I told myself was just a result of my body warming-up. I was feeling worried and was still trying to find my stride, but I reminded myself that I had looked forward to this moment for three months. After a little self-pep talk, I started to feel really great.

We hit Prospect Park, and I was hovering around an 8:20 pace. But then I got to Mile 7, at the end of the Prospect Park loop, and I was hitting an 8:04 pace... and feeling good. What was happening??


This was when I really started to enjoy the race. I was trying to see how fast I could maintain my pace but still feel OK. I downed my vanilla clif shot as I headed out of the park, and prepared myself for the sunny and widely-dreaded straightaway to Coney Island.

This is pretty much what the entire straightaway looked like.

I loaded the end of my playlist strategically with my favorite upbeat songs (I gauge whether a race is a success based on how much I lip sync on the course). The miles seemed to fly by, and I was really enjoying myself. Before I knew it, I hit Mile 11, and I tried to pick up the pace for the last two miles. 


With a huge smile on my face, I made it to the Coney Island Boardwalk, where I spotted my parents and got a rush of happiness that carried me across the finish line. Surprisingly, I didn't feel like collapsing. I just wanted to get to my family so I could celebrate.

Splits that pleasantly surprised me.

I was really happy with my time. I PR'd by 10 minutes, and beat by goal pace by 15 seconds. I didn't stop smiling all day.

I made my way to meet my parents and Keith at Nathan's, where we laughed and downed hot dogs, fries and most importantly, beer.

How freakin' cute are they

My Keith!

Aside from wanting to be able to complete the race without being in all-consuming pain, my main reason for wanting to be hydrated and well-trained was so that I could enjoy the end of race treats that I missed out on last year. Success.

A New Obsession

In the reality of New York City, where square footage has a depressingly inverted relationship with rent, space is precious.

So to maximize my expensive space, I finally stopped in to the Container Store fully intending to go crazy.

Second only to Target, the Container Store is the kind of place where you feel compelled to purchase absolutely everything in sight (I DO need a rotating Bamboo tray for my spices... Now that I think about it, owning a paper towel holder would make my life so much easier).

Doesn't this make you feel so calm and happy?
No? Just me?

I went in meaning to buy a shoe rack for my dismal shoe situation, and a utensil organizer for my kitchen drawer (I moved into my apartment in October and I still did not have a utensil organizer. My forks have been mixing with the likes of knives and spoons, and wine openers were canoodling with potato chip clips. It's been disastrous). But when I got in there, I had a tough time choosing how I wanted to spend my benjamins.

I thankfully did at least walk out with the items I set out to buy. I went with the mahogany shoe rack, because it clearly suits my personal style:

Downside upside to buying a shoe rack - organizing your shoes and realizing how badly you need to go shopping. And finding that pair of shoes you literally never wore, and put in the back of your closet because you felt too guilty donating them.

Sinkside lookin' fresh with the paper towel holder

And perhaps my favorite purchase - the bamboo rotating rack (official name). It's fun AND practical - gone are the days when I accidentally use a dash of ground red pepper instead of cinnamon!

So all in all, a successful trip. And a lighter wallet.

You have more free time to worry about organizing your kitchen drawers when you're in taper-mode. In 3 days, I will be running the Brooklyn Half-Marathon. I'm taking tomorrow and Friday off from any exercise, and made sure to squeeze in my three scheduled runs in the beginning of the week.

Although pretty low-mileage, my runs didn't feel as great this week. I don't know if my legs are sore from last week's higher mileage, or if I'm just not getting in as many carbs as I should be. I really and truly did not feel like doing my tempo run last night, but I went, and ended up making out okay:

Today, I was able to get out of bed before work to do my last run before the race. My body was not feeling up to it at all (not sure whether it was because I did a tempo run just 12 hours earlier, or whether it was the white wine drinking the night before). But it ended up being okay too I guess.

Now for the important question: race-day wardrobe. What to wear?

I got a sweet Nike tank that I am surely going to wear, as well as my neon yellow headband. I have to decide if I'm feeling gutsy enough to wear my LuluLemon shorts, or to stick to comfort and wear my running capris. I'll see how the mood strikes me at 5:00AM Saturday morning.

My favorite running friends and I are carbing up together on Friday night at Jillian's apartment, and I am stoked. I believe gnocchi and garlic knots are in order. I also want to make sure I am really hydrated for the race, so I can enjoy spending post-race with my parents and Keith who will be waiting at the finish line for me. Talking about it all is getting me really excited for what is sure to be a fun and tough race!

Now I'm going to go organize my sock drawer.

UAE Healthy Kidney 10K Race Recap

Let me preface this post by saying that I really hope the ING New York City Marathon is as life-changing as everyone says it is. It was absolutely my own choice to do the guaranteed entry 9+1 program, but it has become... exhausting (9+1 program breakdown: Run 9 New York Road Races + Volunteer for 1 race in a calendar year = Guaranteed Entry into the following year’s NYC Marathon). In theory, running nine races does not seem like a whole lot, but in practice, it truly is.

I wrote a post a few weeks ago about my aggressive 5 races in 5 weekends schedule, and I have knocked down four of them. That’s four 5:30-6:00AM weekend wakeups, four banana and peanut butter English muffin sandwiches, and four playlists with One Direction's timeless song. It’s a good thing I’m a gal who knows how to get a lot of sleep.

Saturday morning was the UAE Healthy Kidney 10K in Central Park. I came pretty close to bailing, but I realized I would just be delaying the inevitable. Postponing Saturday’s race would mean another $20 down the drain and an early morning wakeup sometime later in the year. So I got up, quite begrudgingly.

Queensboro Bridge, you ain't so bad

The weather was beautiful – which meant I had a lot more runners and bikers around to keep things interesting. My legs felt great as I maintained an easy pace, and as usual, I was happy that I decided to wake my cranky self up after all.

Nice 'n easy.

I made it to Central Park with about 4 ½ miles under my belt. I caught up with my favorite fellow 9+1ers, and then made my way to my corral. The race had a $25,000 prize for the first finisher, and the Men’s 2012 Olympic Marathon Team ran the race! No wonder mad peeps turned up.

Typical pre-race pic
Trying to include all 7,918 of us

I noticed I was a little thirsty by the time I got to Central Park, but I shook it off and figured I could gulp some water on the course. In hindsight, I should have picked up a Gatorade to carry with me. It would have been my BFF during the race’s miserable course.

The 10k was a clockwise tour of Central Park’s outer loop. The four-mile course I’m accustomed to in the Park has rolling hills, but it’s nothing a pair of semi-tired legs can’t handle. The 6.2-mile course, however, is a whole other animal.

The hills in the first few miles felt like mountains. The downhills and flat parts of the course didn’t help me recover, nor did they feel easy. I went through the first three miles feeling pretty bad and incredibly thirsty.

By Mile 4, I was really tired. I saw people around me walking up the hills, which was super encouraging… I was hoping to reach my stretch goal of a sub-8:00 pace, but at this point in the race, I told myself to ease the heck up. I knew it was a lofty goal, and one perhaps I could make if I didn’t run 4 ½ miles before the race. But I reminded myself that not every race is supposed to be record-breaking, so I dialed it back and just did the best I could.

Finally by Mile 5, I kept telling myself that I only had two miles left. I used every technique in my repertoire to keep me going – everything from telling myself how well this race would prepare me for the Brooklyn Half, to concentrating on my form. It. Felt. So. Hard.

I quickened my pace in the last mile, because I figured the faster I ran, the faster it would be over. I knew I was spent when I wasn’t able to sprint the last 200M like I normally do. But I went as fast as my tired little legs would take me.

I knew I gave it my all when I nearly collapsed at the finish line (a tad dramatic), and I ended up being really happy with my average pace. For my first 10K race, I gave myself a pat on the back. And rewarded myself with a really yummy nap later on.

After a nice, long shower, I headed home to NJ for Mother’s day. I spent the afternoon running errands with my Dad in Central Jersey suburbia, which is SO much more enjoyable than running errands in the city. You only truly begin to realize how many people live in New York when you’re waiting in line at Duane Reade.

Fresh, inexpensive fruits and veggies.
How I miss you.

My family spent Mother’s Day lounging, and I spent 95% of my time on my parents’ back patio. It was perfect weather again, so I took in as much greenery and fresh air as I could.

Love the toe shot.

This Saturday will be race 5 of 5 in my crazy and stupid spring series – the Brooklyn Half-Marathon. I’m feeling pretty good about the race overall – I know I have put in the training, and this week’s runs will be all about keeping up fitness and not worrying about pace. I know for a fact I will be more successful than last year’s race (if I don’t keel over from dehydration, I will consider it a victory).

I’m hoping to run it in 1:51:00 as my stretch goal – which would be an 8:30 pace. Would I like to go faster? Sure. Will I beat myself up if I don’t make it? No. I have put in the time – and now all I can do is think good thoughts and carbo-load (the latter of which I’m really skilled at). 


I’m hoping that this is an omen of good things to come:

Unfamiliar Territory

I am a creature of habit. I have oatmeal for breakfast almost every single morning, I never leave anywhere without my iPod, and I always put my right shoe on before my left. So sometimes, I have to remind myself to try new things and shake it up a bit.

This week, I am determined to travel into unfamiliar territory. For the first time ever Monday night, I took a spin class. It might not seem like a big deal, but I assure you it was for me. It’s almost impossible to walk around the city without bumping into people who are talking about spinning (“That instructor always has the worst mixes” or “SoulCycle is so expensive but I freakin’ love it”).

I’ll admit, I was a bit hesitant at first – I had a mental image of some crazy-ripped woman screaming at me to pedal faster. But I showed up, and it ended up being awesome.

I called ahead to New York Sports Club and found out I was #2 on the wait list. Friends had told me that no one ever checks the names on the list, so I made sure to get there a few minutes early to reserve a bike.

A kind-looking instructor (not the Jillian Michaels-lookalike I envisioned) came in five minutes before the start, somewhat amazed that the class was so full. I saw he had the list of attendees in hand, and I started to sweat before I even began pedaling. He addressed the class to see if everyone was definitely on the list, because there were a few people waiting outside hoping to get in. I get really nervous if I think I’m about to get in trouble for something, but I tried to play it cool as I watched the seconds tick by until the clock struck 6 o’clock. It felt like the first day of school.

I'm scared.

He ended up not reading off our names at all, and just took us at our word that we were on the super-official sign-up list. We started with a quick warm-up, biked up some imaginary hills, and did some sprints towards the end. I smiled all the way through the sweaty class, welcoming another positive, new experience into my life. I will most definitely be back.

I also experienced something last night that has been most unfamiliar to me in recent months – a bad run. Throughout marathon training last year, I definitely had my fair share of bad runs. They can come predictably if you’re dehydrated or sore, but more often than not, they come very unexpectedly, even when you feel prepared for the road ahead.

So far throughout nine weeks of half-marathon training, I can’t really pinpoint a bad run I had. Some of them were definitely tiring, but that was mostly self-induced. I have been blessed with a training season that has been full of runs that only make me smile.

Last night, after a long day at work, I was simply dreading my run. I had planned to do about six miles, and was hoping to do them somewhat close to half-marathon goal pace. My legs felt like lead, and I found it really hard to pick up the pace. I finally did go faster around miles five and six, which I suppose is a good thing, but it began to make me think about my upcoming race goals.

NOT what I looked like after my run last night.

This weekend, I have the Broad Street 10 Mile Run. I’m using it as a test drive for the Brooklyn Half-Marathon. I have a safe goal, of maintaining an 8:45 pace, and I have a stretch goal, of maintaining an 8:30 pace. How did I come to these guestimates? I have no idea. Last year for the Brooklyn Half, I ran at about a 9:02 pace. This was with very little training (both mental and physical), no iPod, and poor nutrition. I figure that if I can maintain that kind of pace under bad circumstances, I should be able to do marginally better with the proper preparation. Right? Right?

My general race plan for Broad Street is to run the first half at around an 8:40/8:45 pace and see how I feel. I’ll step on the gas around mile 5 if I’m feeling good, which isn't that scary to me considering I’ve followed essentially the same plan on my long runs over the past two weekends.

I will imitate your fierce, fierce determination.

Secretly, I’ve been hoping to maintain closer to an 8:30 pace, as I have been training really hard and almost all of my runs have been under a 9:00 pace. But during last night’s run, I wasn’t hitting anything below a 9:00 pace for the first few miles and didn’t feel like I could move my legs any faster. I wondered: what if the same thing happened to me during Broad Street?

It was a sobering run that reminded me that no matter what my pace is – I know I’ve been training hard, and I will give it my all. Whatever the outcome is, I will be happy with it. It’s a good reminder that I run to de-stress and have fun (CORNY I KNOW) – not to beat myself up over 10 second time differences.

Tune in next time for the Broad Street Run Recap.

5 Races in 5 Weekends and the 3-Borough Run

After what felt like a really long week (no California vacations included), I was excited to lay low last Friday night. I pranced around in my apartment in my new Groove Shorts from lululemon, ordered thai food to “carbo-load” and watched Edward Scissorhands for the first time. So nice to see Johnny Depp in a movie where he isn’t acting like his Keith-Richards-alter-ego. 

I fell asleep nice and early in preparation of my long run Saturday morning, and hit the pavement at a sober 9:15AM. My plan was to run into Manhattan and meet Jillian in Central Park (yay!). I left sleepy Brooklyn, ran at a comfortable pace over the Queensboro Bridge, and found Manhattan to be buzzing with activity. I was feeling pretty good, and was pumped to run around the reservoir for the first time.

Is it Summer Streets yet? No?

Jillian and I met up at Columbus Circle, and caught up on everything from running her first marathon to my awesome SF trip. And we found the elusive reservoir I’ve heard so much about.

After a 5.5 loop, we were on a mission to find a diner to consume all the calories we just burned. Cue EJ’s Luncheonette and their greasy, delicious food.

I ended up clocking in just under ten miles, and despite the fact that my quads were a little fatigued and I ran through three boroughs before noon, I was surprised at how good I felt. It could have also been all of the eggs, home fries, bacon and the bagel with cream cheese I ate at EJ's that made me feel so good.

Like a well-behaved Brooklynite, I spent the rest of the afternoon day drinking. It was warm, and I was thirsty.

Unrelated to my day drinking binge.
I just thought this was cool.

It finally hit me today that I will be running five races over the next five weekends. That is a lot of bib pinning. Check back in 35 days to see if I’m still psyched about this whole 9+1 Program.

I’ll stop whining and list something I AM psyched about relating to my aggressive race schedule  – these AWESOME shirts that Lauren made for the Broad Street Run on May 6^th!

On the subject of races that sell out quickly, this year was the first time I didn’t go to Marathon Monday in Boston. I celebrated in spirit, but secretly wished I was filling up on jungle juice and Coors Light on Beacon Street.

Marathon Monday 2010
My shirt says "Run. Drink. Nap."
College.

Today I did just over seven miles in what is surely the warmest day Brooklyn has seen since last year. I was a little excited to sport my new Groove Shorts, so I complimented them with a bright orange tank… and a bright yellow headband… and a bright green sports bra.

Don't worry, this sweaty photo is post-run.

I went out a bit fast and hit the first mile at 8:40. My average pace was a hair under 9:00 overall, but I can’t tell you what my splits look like because I don’t know. I just know what my pink timex tells me, and it does not access satellites, calculate my heart rate or understand any commands other than start and stop.

I felt like I was going pretty fast, so I was a bit disappointed that my accurate and expensive watch didn’t represent pace closer to HMGP (did I just make up this acronym?). But before I started beating myself up, I tried to reason that I did run over the Williamsburg Bridge that has a b**** of a hill (that I love), and it was really, really humid.

Little did I know that the BEST post-run treat was awaiting me at Keith’s apartment. I dropped in to say a sweaty hello, and he offered me an ice-cold Gatorade, a frozen thin mint, and a loaded pita bread pizza that I just had to pop in the oven when I got home. I love him for so many reasons.

Defining Moments

Today I’m going to talk about defining moments (I believe this is a title of a Sex and the City episode. I rely on SATC for late night TV and life lessons).

Over the weekend, my family and I reminisced about a humorous but painful memory of mine. There was a strange phenomenon that I experienced in high school – all of the teachers who loved my sister, Kelly, loathed me. I’m not talking about one or two teachers… we counted about five. I was a pretty enthusiastic student, so I got along with just about every other teacher - but these select five and I must have had some serious rows in another life.

One teacher, Mrs. Greenlees, was my cooking instructor freshman year. I was paired with a group of kids that either didn’t show up to class, or could care less whether our sugar cookies came out edible or not. I found myself stressed and doing most of the work, and decided to take a different elective the following year (stressed about my cooking elective? Even 14-year-old Kate was an over-achiever…). But towards the end of the school year when we were selecting classes, Mrs. Greenlees cuttingly told me that she thought it would be better if I didn’t take “Advanced Cooking.” I replied with a generous amount of sass, “Don’t worry, I’m NOT.” (Yes, I’ve always been told I’m mature for my age – it must have been my grown-up demeanor and not my attitude that intimidated her).

That's me on the left at Disney World senior year.
So much sass.

This happened nine years ago – and I still remember it clearly. Growing up, I was used to being told I was great at most things (thanks mom and dad for your words of encouragement - I still believe you can do anything you put your mind to…), and this was one of the first times I can remember being told that I was just not good at something. I had a bit of an aversion to cooking for years after this – and anyone who took psych 101 could tell me why. But once I got an off-campus apartment at school, and had someone else to cook for, I started to find out that Mrs. Greenlees was wrong about me.

I began to build up positive experiences with cooking, such as getting loads of compliments from Keith, and learning how to bake things from scratch with my parents. Now, I love trying new recipes, and I’m beginning to gain some confidence in my kitchen. I didn’t let my disagreeable interaction with my stupid (sorry Kelly, I know you liked her) teacher ruin cooking for me, and now it’s one of my favorite little hobbies.

Okay, yes I admit this seems a bit overdramatic and perhaps something I should have put in my private journal and not share with the online world. Everyone has interactions like this that stay with them – but my question to you is; do you let these moments change who you are?

One time while I was waiting to meet someone at Penn Station, one of those not-for-profit employees who want you to give them money to support wind energy development or some other important cause, said something to me that I thought was really interesting. While living in Boston, I naively gave a similar person my email and phone number since I didn’t have my credit card on me. She called and called trying to get me to donate an unrealistic amount of money for a college student, and it left a really bad taste in my mouth. So when I told this poor guy that I had a bad experience once with a similar organization, he said “If you always let one bad experience influence you, you may be shutting yourself to out good experiences.” Well said. I still don’t want to donate $50 a month to your cause.

I had a defining moment last year with running (you knew this was coming). I’ve said before how miserable the Brooklyn Half-Marathon was for me – I was undertrained, had no iPod to distract me, and was severely dehydrated by the end. I had already signed up for the Cape Cod Marathon at that point, and I distinctly remember saying to myself around mile 11, “Kate, there is no way you can run a marathon, this is too awful.” I stopped running for about a month or two after the race, and on the rare occasion I did, I didn’t do anything over four miles.

I'm only smiling on the outside.

I was almost positive that I didn’t want to run a marathon – my list of excuses was much longer than my list of reasons why I should do it. But then I did a seven mile run with my favorite running cousins and Keith – and I was hooked again. We went at a conversational pace, the weather was beautiful, and it felt so great to get my legs out on the road without wanting to stop. After this run, I decided I wanted to run the marathon, and run it I did.

Smiling ear to ear!

And in five weeks, I’m going to run the Brooklyn Half again. Not just because there are hot dogs and beers awaiting me at the finish line, but I want to prove it to myself that I have matured as a runner, and add  it to my list of positive experiences.

California and Me - It's Love

Keith and I got back last night from the most amazing trip to northern California. We spent three full days in San Francisco, half a day driving up the coast of northern California, and a day in Napa Valley.

At Point Reyes Beach!

I’m just going to get this off my chest – I love JetBlue. On-time flights with lots of legroom? Sherlock Holmes Game of Shadows on demand? Free blue-colored potato chips? 

Pick the more photogenic one out of the two. 

It was a whirlwind trip, and we did so much that the full story will be saved for my journal and scrapbook. But here is the recap on my favorite stuff:

Highlights

#1 – Wine Tasting in Napa

This was my favorite moment of the trip. My mom and I went to this awesome winery called Hopper Creek two years ago, and I was so happy that I was able to book the same tour this trip. 

I WANT TO LIVE HERE.

We pulled up in our Mustang (yes, Keith got the upgrade and we drove through Cali like in Bullitt. It was awesome.), and happened to walk in with a bike tour that also came for a tasting. The hysterical winery owner had a heavy hand and let us all sit on his patio while we tried his amazing wine. Keith and I completely skipped the other wine tour we had lined up - we were having so much fun guzzling wine that we ended up staying two hours.

I <3 your heavy hand.
Note the stained teeth. 

#2 – House of Nanking

My dear friend Meggie recommended this place to me, which is a delicious Chinese restaurant in San Francisco’s Chinatown. It is without question the best Chinese food I’ve ever had.

Mmm sesame chicken. I begrudgingly shared.

#3 – Bike Tour

Keith and I did a historic bike tour of New Orleans last year, and wanted to keep up the tradition since we had such a blast last time. Our charismatic tour guide, Christopher, took us past the bay, over the Golden Gate Bridge, and into Sausalito. 

I couldn’t help noticing all of the runners we passed along the bay… 50-60 degree weather all year round?! This may have been the moment I decided I will move here one day. Although the history and views were spectacular, Keith was required to keep his helmet on per the tour guide’s instructions (much to his dismay).

Had to post this gem.

#4 – Alcatraz

When we were planning our trip, Keith said that he felt bad I would have to go to Alcatraz again since I went two years ago. I told him I was pumped to go again, as it is a really cool place. He was quickly convinced.

What is that in my purse you might ask?
Keith bought it for me at the gift shop.
I am 23 years old with a stuffed animal seagull.

As chance would have it, we stumbled into a talk by Robert Luke, former Alcatraz Prisoner #1118. He told some stories about being sent to the "hole" in Alcatraz and what it was like when he got out. And he was a bank robber in the 50s – which is pretty B.A.

#5 – The Tonga Room

Introduced to us by Mr. Bourdain, the Tonga Room is a tiki bar in the basement of a hotel that has a pirate ship in the middle of the bar with a fake rainstorm that happens every hour (intentional run-on as there are so many great things about this place). If that doesn’t convince you, the strong neon-colored cocktails will. Oh, and I spotted Colin Hanks while we were there!

Straddling the line between tipsy and drunk right here.

Lowlight

#1 and Only – The Run

I like to focus on the positive, but there was a lowlight that is very related to what I like writing about most – running. After a day of having jelly donuts, breakfast sandwiches, burritos, coronas, and a hot tub soak, Keith and I thought it would be a good idea to go to the gym. I ran a miserable three miles on the treadmill while the gym's thermostat was set to a cool 80 degrees. A guy with no shame did yoga poses in front of me for the entirety of my run. Now I know why yoga rooms are dimly lit.

I had the post-vacation blues today, but I am pretty sure I will be back soon, and have every intention of moving there someday.

To sweat out the goldfish bag, cookies, potato chips, and ginger ale I had on the plane last night, I went for a run after work.

One of my favorite paths.

I decided not to worry about how far or fast I would run as it was my first day back, but let my body take me as far as it would go. I ended up doing 5.85 miles at an 8:53 pace – my goal of running 8:45 miles for the Brooklyn Half-Marathon seems more and more likely!

And last but NOT least – I am officially signed up for the Philadelphia Marathon!!!

They make it so exciting!!!

I’ll be running this beastly out and back with Jillian and Lauren and I could not be more excited. See you in November.