I did it! In 24:01 -- if only I'd looked down at my watch I could have broken 24 minutes!
April 25, 2010
April 24, 2010
roadkill
So, I've been having this problem recently with my running, and that problem is that I am a competitive lunatic. The scenario plays out this way: I get dressed for a run, usually at work, and to make it easier on myself I say, "Today I'm just going go relax; I'm not going to worry about pace. I'm just going to hang back and mull some things over in my brain and take it easy." It's easier for me to get out of the office and onto the trail if I promise that it won't be hard.
Then I go out and I try to make my first mile easy, which is harder than it sounds, since I usually think I'm going an average or even slightly slower pace only to look down at my Garmin and discover I'm running, like, a 7:40 mile.
Inevitably what happens next is I come upon some poor soul, or maybe even a group of poor souls, who are casually biding their time, running at their pace, maybe talking, maybe lost in a running reverie. And they're going maybe 10-15 seconds/mile slower than I am. I think to myself, "I should stay behind them, I should pace off of them and just RELAX ALREADY and quit being a fasthole." But inevitably I can't control myself; I inch closer and closer behind them until I'm drafting. Then I turn into a ninja. I try to make myself very quiet so they won't know I'm drafting, and I try for several hopeless moments to STAY SLOW, JERKSAUCE.
Then of course I'm spotted, and I feel sheepish for drafting in a FREAKING RECREATIONAL RUN and I sheepishly pass.
The next scenario that occurs on the run -- and I swear, these things happen in this order every time -- is I come across someone ahead of me who runs at exactly my pace, or maybe just a second or two per mile faster. I see them up ahead, I gauge their speed, and the rational, non-jerk part of my head says, "Don't do it!" But the universe conspires against me and that person stops to tie her shoe, or stops so his dog can pee, or maybe I have in advance (honestly) decided to make this one section of the trail my 'sprint' section.
So, I pass. Of course when I pass I make sure I have perfect form and look totally awesome.
Then I spend the entire rest of my run, which can be anywhere from half a mile to two excruciating miles, fretting that I'm going to get passed back. An old belief of mine, back from my sprinting days, is that you never ever ever look back to see where your competition is. In sprinting, you don't look back primarily because doing so throws off your speed; in every other form of running I think it just makes you look intimidated.
Also, it tips off the person you've just passed that you're an over-competitive nutjob.
The reality is, I love to race. I'm a very competitive person by nature and I love to go fast. But I haven't truly raced in years, since I'm now a middle-of-the-pack distance runner (rather than a sprinter). I'm no competition in the events I enter now because I'm inevitably going up against people who can run a 6-minute mile or better. Of course, I can race within my cluster of like-paced runners; I can race people the last 100 yards or so to the finish (I have a good kick); I can race against my own pace. But at the end of the day I still mostly end up finishing 25th or 85th or even further down the roster, depending on the size of the race.
I bring this up because yesterday, during my weekly Friday run with friends, we were chatting about pace (we were running about a 10:15 mile) and they were teasing me about how much I had to slow down to stay with the pack. "What's your 5k pace?" a friend asked, and when I answered (I train at about an 8:15 mile), another friend said, "You know, there's a 5K on Sunday that I bet you could win."
...
So, YOU GUYS. guess what I'm doing tomorrow morning??!
Then I go out and I try to make my first mile easy, which is harder than it sounds, since I usually think I'm going an average or even slightly slower pace only to look down at my Garmin and discover I'm running, like, a 7:40 mile.
Inevitably what happens next is I come upon some poor soul, or maybe even a group of poor souls, who are casually biding their time, running at their pace, maybe talking, maybe lost in a running reverie. And they're going maybe 10-15 seconds/mile slower than I am. I think to myself, "I should stay behind them, I should pace off of them and just RELAX ALREADY and quit being a fasthole." But inevitably I can't control myself; I inch closer and closer behind them until I'm drafting. Then I turn into a ninja. I try to make myself very quiet so they won't know I'm drafting, and I try for several hopeless moments to STAY SLOW, JERKSAUCE.
Then of course I'm spotted, and I feel sheepish for drafting in a FREAKING RECREATIONAL RUN and I sheepishly pass.
The next scenario that occurs on the run -- and I swear, these things happen in this order every time -- is I come across someone ahead of me who runs at exactly my pace, or maybe just a second or two per mile faster. I see them up ahead, I gauge their speed, and the rational, non-jerk part of my head says, "Don't do it!" But the universe conspires against me and that person stops to tie her shoe, or stops so his dog can pee, or maybe I have in advance (honestly) decided to make this one section of the trail my 'sprint' section.
So, I pass. Of course when I pass I make sure I have perfect form and look totally awesome.
Then I spend the entire rest of my run, which can be anywhere from half a mile to two excruciating miles, fretting that I'm going to get passed back. An old belief of mine, back from my sprinting days, is that you never ever ever look back to see where your competition is. In sprinting, you don't look back primarily because doing so throws off your speed; in every other form of running I think it just makes you look intimidated.
Also, it tips off the person you've just passed that you're an over-competitive nutjob.
The reality is, I love to race. I'm a very competitive person by nature and I love to go fast. But I haven't truly raced in years, since I'm now a middle-of-the-pack distance runner (rather than a sprinter). I'm no competition in the events I enter now because I'm inevitably going up against people who can run a 6-minute mile or better. Of course, I can race within my cluster of like-paced runners; I can race people the last 100 yards or so to the finish (I have a good kick); I can race against my own pace. But at the end of the day I still mostly end up finishing 25th or 85th or even further down the roster, depending on the size of the race.
I bring this up because yesterday, during my weekly Friday run with friends, we were chatting about pace (we were running about a 10:15 mile) and they were teasing me about how much I had to slow down to stay with the pack. "What's your 5k pace?" a friend asked, and when I answered (I train at about an 8:15 mile), another friend said, "You know, there's a 5K on Sunday that I bet you could win."
...
So, YOU GUYS. guess what I'm doing tomorrow morning??!
April 18, 2010
going bald
I'm officially two weeks away from conquering the terrifying number 24. on may 2, I'm headed to oaks park to have my head shaved by st. baldrick's, a charity whose participants go bald to raise money for children's cancer research.
I'm simultaneously excited and terrified. I've wanted to shave my head for more than ten years but I've never had the courage or the excuse. a few years ago my former college roommate shaved her head with st. baldricks and I was so. jealous.
cutting my hair short, which I did in october 2008, has been an interesting, though unintentional, exploration into my own feelings of femininity; as much as I wish it weren't so, by default I feel less feminine with short hair and therefore have to "act" my femininity harder than I ever did with long hair. with short hair I have been more likely to wear makeup, more likely to don dangly earrings; I think I might even dress differently now. it turns out that long hair equals feminine by default, which is something I never considered until it was gone. I don't mean to imply that I'm sorry that hair is gone -- I'm not. I do, however, occasionally lament the feeling that I'm slightly farther under the radar with short hair.
I can only imagine that being bald is going to throw me even further away from most ordinary notions of girlishness. I'm already mentally preparing myself for the potential looming desire to wear makeup EVERY day (these days it's only when I feel like it) since, after all, what little hair I now have left to hide behind will be gone. I'm also beginning to believe that it's likely I will stop wearing my glasses for awhile, although I've long felt as though they're one of my fundamental defining characteristics. I haven't found too many photos of bald women with glasses that appeal to me; without hair, they just seem too present.
in other words, let's turn everything on its ear, mkay?
but don't let all this pontification fool you. I'm really psyched to buzz off my hair. just imagine: weeks and weeks of not having to worry about my hair at all. short hair makes short work of hair styling, but baldness will get rid of the concern altogether. roll out of bed and go.
I'm also really looking forward to the st. baldrick's event, where several of the honored children will be in attendance and may even help cut our hair off. (I hope so!). a good friend of mine is also participating, and several of my friends will be in attendance to watch. I had hoped to raise $500 by event day, thinking the sum to be a little high for only two weeks' worth of fundraising, but my friends and coworkers have TOTALLY OUTDONE THEMSELVES and have already bumped me past that line. I LOVE YOU GUYS. Now I'm shooting for $750, which is the "VIP" sum that gets me my choice of shave times :)
If you are interested in helping support st. baldricks -- or you'd just seriously pay money to see me shave my head -- you can donate to my campaign at my participant page.
April 17, 2010
assorted
so! I've been back since monday morning but I guess I should tell you that the rest of the MOLA conference was also awesome: a few more sessions on various librarian-related things (dramatic rights licensing, rental houses behind the scenes), a banquet (where I did in fact eat an Omaha steak), and the SCOTCH TASTING!
despite all that scotch, and the wine at dinner, and the extra hour I stayed up talking video games with a fellow librarian, and the three hours of sleep I got before having to get up and board a plane, I managed to be a normal, functioning human being for the flight home and even went to work straight from the airport, like a good little bee.
the sun has finally made a hesitant return this week, and one night this week I came home, threw my stuff down, changed into shorts and a sweater, and strolled through the neighborhood to the grocery store. a friend commented recently that all the bright colorful foliage of the season makes her want to yell "BAM!" every time she sees it, and I understand that impulse.
everything is growing with such enthusiasm.
especially the moss.
we can finally see the sky! cue collective sense of jubilation:
despite all that scotch, and the wine at dinner, and the extra hour I stayed up talking video games with a fellow librarian, and the three hours of sleep I got before having to get up and board a plane, I managed to be a normal, functioning human being for the flight home and even went to work straight from the airport, like a good little bee.
the sun has finally made a hesitant return this week, and one night this week I came home, threw my stuff down, changed into shorts and a sweater, and strolled through the neighborhood to the grocery store. a friend commented recently that all the bright colorful foliage of the season makes her want to yell "BAM!" every time she sees it, and I understand that impulse.
everything is growing with such enthusiasm.
especially the moss.
we can finally see the sky! cue collective sense of jubilation:
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