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.

Getting to Know Queens... and the Start of Something New

After waking up from a slight hangover caused by Miller High Life, I hit the road yesterday to get some mileage in preparation of half-marathon training (more on that in a minute).

I run virtually the same routes all the time, and I’ve begun to get a little bored with them. Not to mention, I have a lot of early-morning races in Central Park this spring, and instead of waiting incessantly for the subway (yes, I’m talking to you G train), I want to have the option of running to the start line. Believe it or not, it’s actually faster to run to Central Park than to rely on the MTA.

So I left the comforts of my beloved Brooklyn and ran over the Pulaski Bridge to Queens. I navigated to the Queensboro Bridge, where there were so many amazing things to take photos of.

I was listening to This American Life, and the podcast “Neighborhood Watch” was one of my favorites so far. It was both hilarious and incredibly sweet, and was the best companion to my great run.

I did a slow 7 miles, which was my longest run since the marathon. I felt so lucky and free to be out on the road doing what I love. I welcomed every incline and muscle ache.

It was the perfect way to kick-off half-marathon training that starts today! Here’s what I’ll be doing for the next 12 weeks.

It’s been almost exactly a year since I became a “runner.” The 2011 Brooklyn Half-Marathon was the first race I trained for, and I was horribly unprepared for it. I did most of my runs on a treadmill and there was no training program to speak of. So by the time I got to mile 9 in the race, my legs were burning, my feet felt like cement, and I had no iPod to distract me from the sun that was beating down on my neck. The race was so bad that it actually almost convinced me not to train for the Cape Cod Marathon.

I may be smiling, but I'm in a lot of pain.

I’ve learned a lot since then. I’m no longer an elitist about running without an iPod – I don’t care what you tell me, Beyonce gets your legs movin’ and that’s a fact. You can never drink enough Gatorade and Vita Coco, and oatmeal is a bad choice for pre-race nutrition (you don’t want me to go into detail about why that is). Lastly, don’t think about it too much – just get out there and enjoy it!

So to prove to myself that I’ve matured a lot in the past year as a runner, I’m training for the 2012 Brooklyn Half, and I plan to beast it.

See you at Coney Island! I'll be the one with the hot dog and beer in hand at 9am.