DBGB Dinner

Mike and I will not be spending Christmas together. We have actually never spent a Christmas together in the, almost, four years we have been dating. But this year is proving to be the hardest.

Besides the excitement of Christmas morning and the gift giving, we will also miss out on sharing dinner together. I'm not sure if you've realized this by now, but food is a big deal in my life.

So we decided to make reservations at a restaurant we have both been extremely excited to try - DBGB Bar & Restaurant. A restaurant with an extensive beer menu, comfort foods like sausage and hamburgers sounded like a perfect fit for the two of us.

The restaurant has an open kitchen and we were seated right in front of the pastry kitchen, which was an added bonus. I swear I did not tell them I work at Gramercy. We made our beer selections, our food selections, our dessert selections.

As an appetizer, Mike had the matzo ball soup and we shared one of the sausage selections. I can't remember the name of the sausage, only that one of the ingredients was pig's head (this took some convincing on Mike's part), and it was served over cream mashed potatoes. And it was delicious.

For my entree, I ordered a burger on a brioche bun, with pig belly, arugula, cheese and tomato. It was served with perfectly crisp french fries, presented in a little brioche baking pan. My meal was phenomenal - I loved that the burger was not enormous, the actual burger was 6 ounces, so I could really enjoy all the flavors.

Mike ordered two sausages as his main meal. Again, I do not remember all of the ingredients, but one was spicy and the other was a little smokier. He let me taste a bite of each - the spicy was my favorite. Mike did not want to take a photo of his food, an extra step before digging in, which is why his photo is blurry. But you get the idea.

We probably would have been just as happy to skip dessert, but I feel that it is important for me to try desserts at some of the better restaurants in the city. Research. All in the name of research.

We did, however, decide to split a dessert. We settled on a chocolate mocha ice cream sunday, with brownies, chocolate chip cookies and whipped cream. We enjoyed coffee on the side.

After a filling meal, it was time to venture back outdoors, into middle of the snowstorm.

It may not have been a traditional Christmas dinner, but it left me with the same feelings - warmth, comfort, fullness and love.

Happy Thanksgiving

As far back as I can remember, Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. No matter how busy life might be, there is one day in the year which demands you take a deep breath, pour a glass of wine and share delicious food with your family.

Thanks to ridiculous airline prices and living on a student loan paying- about to switch jobs/take a pay cut-living in Manhattan budget, this will be the first year I have not joined my family for Thanksgiving.

I won't be there to make the pumpkin pie, lay around in my pajamas, whisk just-plated items from the kitchen to the table, open the wine and try to stay out of the way as Mum and Dad whip up a feast too big for just four people. I won't consume scary amounts of Daddy's mashed potatoes (a gut-bomb secretly disguised by delicious, if not unhealthy, amounts of butter and cream). And I won't be there to make just enough room to fit in some pie.
On top of all that, all those things that make me love Thanksgiving, I will miss out on selecting the Christmas tree, decorating the house for Christmas and turkey pie.

Needless to say, this year will be a bit strange - a depart for the tradition that I so enjoy. Mike's father generously decided to fly us both down to South Carolina Thanksgiving morning for a long weekend. I'm excited to spend Thanksgiving with Mike because, at this point, I consider him family and holidays don't seem the same without him.

I don't know what to expect, I don't know the Thanksgiving traditions of another family. I feel like an adult, about to embark on new traditions that will become my own.

As much fun as creating new traditions can be, I don't like breaking old traditions. So to keep one of my favorite traditions going, even though I won't be sitting around the table with my family, here is what I am thankful for:

I am thankful for my family. I feel so lucky to have a family that loves each other and supports one another no matter what. The values that my parents taught me have kept me grounded and focused on what is truly important in life. I am thankful they were behind me 100% when I decided to pursue my passion of baking. I wish we didn't have to be so far apart.

I am thankful for Mike and our relationship. He's been an amazing support this year as I have tried to balance work, school, internship and life. He was always ready with an encouraging word or hug when I didn't think I could keep up the schedule anymore. The time we actually have for each other is limited, but we always make the most of it. I'm thankful I can come home to my best friend every night.

I am thankful for the opportunities I have been given and chosen to pursue. Yes, my schedule sucks right now. But, when I stop to think about it, life isn't so bad. I live in a beautiful apartment in Manhattan with a wonderful guy, I am pursing my dream career, I have a wonderful family, I have money to pay my bills and usually a little left over. The things I would like to change about my life will change soon enough and this will bring a new set of challenges.

If I shut my eyes, I can hear Daddy pouring the first glass of wine as everyone waits anxiously to dig into the feast. I am home in spirit, always.

Race to Deliver

On Sunday morning, at a chilly 9 AM, I was smiling as I crossed the finish line of my ninth race of the year. What's so special about my ninth race, you might ask? It means that I qualified for the 2010 NYC Marathon!!!

The road to qualifying was littered with three pairs for running shoes, tough long runs, boring lunch-hour treadmill runs, more than a few upset stomachs, a few picture-esqe Fall runs through Central Park and alarms waking me up for races when I would have rather been sleeping. It wove it's way through my job, school, externship and life.

The taste of victory was sweet (or maybe those were the chocolate chip pancakes?). At least until I remembered that, in this case, victory means a $150 entry fee, four months of training and a 26.2 mile race. Oh.

I approached my last race with no expectations of a finish time I wanted to achieve. Life has been a little hectic with working 14-16 hour days, leaving little time for training. Usually on the weekends, I have just enough energy to walk out to the kitchen, make a big pot of coffee climb back into bed for a few hours. Even when I have the best intentions to do a long run, these usually melt away with my first sip of coffee.

It was a four mile race, which doesn't beg for a regimented training schedule. But the distance was long enough that I was a bit nervous on race day. My "training" had included logging only about 10 miles a week (although I was doing more cross-training), not enough sleep, consuming large amounts of caffeine and not running outside in...awhile. Oh, and I ate Shake Shake the day before and had a heavy beer (Gonzo! On Cask!) before I went to sleep.

I couldn't find my watch before I left for the race and realized that it probably didn't matter too much. I didn't care about my splits. My goal was to finish. I made Mike promise that if I tripped (not unlikely) and broke my leg before I crossed the finish line, he would pull me across so I would still qualify. I think he was happy I didn't trip.

I felt calm and like I was running a good pace - not a PR pace, but definitely a comfortable pace. The hills immediately made it known that I had not visited them enough in the past weeks. The miles seemed to slip by and before I knew it, my iPod was playing "Empire State of Mind" and I could see the finish line.

So imagine my surprise when, later that morning, I opened up my computer to check my finish time and found I had, in fact, set a PR. Four miles in 29 minutes 50 seconds; average split time of 7 minutes 27 seconds.

My worst training routine yielded the fastest average split time by 16 seconds. After a year of training, racing and the surprises all that brings, I guess I shouldn't have been shocked.

It almost makes me want to take the same approach to next year's marathon training. Almost.

Mark it down: November 7, 2010. ING NYC Marathon. I'm in!

Slacking, Somewhat

I know I have been slacking on updating my blog, but I like to think this is with good reason.

If life was not already hectic enough, between work, my externship and still trying to have some semblance of a normal, 20-something year old life in Manhattan - I've launched my own website.

Why did I do this, you might ask? Well, as soon as I finished the classroom portion of the ICE pastry program, I was asked to design and produce several custom cakes by co-workers. I loved designing and making cakes during the program - and I was more than happy to fulfill these requests.

But I decided I wanted a place where I could start showcasing my work and direct to-be customers towards in the future.

Thus was born "Dolcetto Confections". "Dolcetto" is my favorite Italian word, which is actually a type of grape, meaning "little sweet one".

It is still very much under construction, but I wanted to introduce you:

http://www.dolcettoconfections.com

Final Countdown

The last week of pastry school is here. My calendar is crammed with things not to forget to do in between all the due dates and exams this week offers.

I am excited. Unlike graduating from high school or college, my excitement for what the future holds is not at all bittersweet.

I have been looking forward to beginning my externship at Gramercy Tavern since August. It has the promise of something new and exciting. A tangible piece of evidence that perhaps my somewhat crazy dream to turn a passion for baking into an actual career was not in vain.

I am stressed and my body is trying really hard to fight off being sick. But as I packed up my bag (a daily adventure of packing gym clothes, sneakers, school uniform, makeup bag, lunch, dinner, snacks, coffee and wallet) and looked desperately at the clock telling me I was running late, Mike held up two fingers.

I stopped and smiled. Just two more days of class.

Grete's Great Gallop Half-Marathon

Photo by Michael Mannella

Unlike April, when I ran my very first half-marathon, I was not nervous about this past weekend's race. I felt calmer and more relaxed for lots of reasons: I was in better shape now, I had a better idea of what to expect during those thirteen miles and I had learned that not hitting a goal time was not the end of the world.

Still, Friday, the day before the race, proved to be quite stressful. I am no-longer particularly superstisious when it comes to pre-race routines - this past year has taught me that sometimes, no matter how precisely you perform your superstitions, you will not have a good race. But I do not like to be stressed or flustered the day before a big race.

It had just been one of those days where nothing had gone right and, now matter how hard I tried not to think of it as a why-does-the-world-hate-me kind of day, it seemed like every time I turned around, something else was going wrong.

I finally calmed down after good dinner (prepared by Mike, I might add) and a quick phone conversation with my parents. I started getting ready for bed, making sure all of my gear for the morning was set-out.

That is when I noticed that the incorrect D-Tag (timing device which attaches to your shoe) had been attached to my race bib. Talk about the icing on the cake.

Since I did not want my time to be recorded as whoever this other runner was, I had to adjust my alarm to make time to go get the situation resolved before the race began at 9 AM.

I was startled out of bed at 6:45 AM by my alarm. I ate, got dressed, readjusted everything and then headed out to the race. It was not raining, as was predicted, but the 93% humidity hung in the air like a heavy curtain.

It was actually quite simple for the race volunteers to switch my race bib and D-Tag, so I my correct time would be recorded.

I lined-up in my corral and zoned-out for the last 15 minutes before the race. I assessed my body - I still felt a little defeated from the day before, I was a little warm from the humidity and my stomach was for some unkown reason upset (Daddy - I blame you. You know what comment I am talking about.) But overall I felt good. I was ready.

The air horns sounded and we were off! I reigned myself in on the first mile. I characteristically go out entirely too fast during the first two miles and then pay for it later. In races under five miles, it did not matter so much - I could recover with a minimal amount of pain. But the half-marathon in April and all of my training runs had taught me that I needed to be mindful of this on longer distances.

I felt like I was standing still among all the runners zipping past me. It was a fight to not join them. I ran the first mile in 8 minutes and 30 seconds. This was a bit slower than my goal pace of 8 minutes 16 seconds per mile, so I knew I could pick up my pace, just a bit, and stay on track.

And stay on track I did for the next nine miles, passing many of those jackrabbit runners. But by the tenth mile, my stomach had had enough and began to revolt. About this time I started searching for porta-pottys along the route and made the not-so -welcome discovery that there were none.

I could only focus on the pain, which to this point I had been able to successfully block-out. But when this happens, I get stressed and frustrated and want to give up. I had to calm myself and keep my mind from racing, "Why are you doing this?!" "How are you ever going to race a full marathon?!".

By the eleventh mile, I had to stop running and walk for about two minutes. I was disappointed that I had to walk because I was so close to the end and had felt that I would finish this race strong.

For the last two miles, I ran as hard as I could. Mind you, this wasn't incredibly fast at this point, about 8 minutes and 17 seconds per mile, but my legs refused to go any faster. I followed the winding loop at the bottom of the park that eventually led back over to the West side.

That loop seemed to last forever, but I was finally on the West side. Another ten blocks north and I would be at the finish line. I searched intently for the blue finish line in the distance.

As soon as I saw it, that is all I could focus on. I didn't think about my sore legs or what song was playing or even search in the crowd for Mike's familar face. My mind repeated, "Get there, get there, get there."

I cannot adequetly describe the feeling of crossing a finish line after a race like this. The first feeling is relief - you made it, you can stop running. After that, it's pure survival - you need Gatorade and water, now. The little voice in your head that has been nagging you with questions like "Why are you doing this?!" for the last 13.1 miles has disappeared. It is silenced by the slew of emotions that have taken it's place - because I can.

Mike was there waiting with a big smile and was nice enough to grab me two cups of Gatorade while I tried to get my bearings. He poured water into my Gatorade as we slowly made our way back across the park, because I he knew I couldn't grasp the water bottle.

Back home, I went through the same routine after my long runs: quick snack to refuel, hot shower, stretch, 10 minute ice bath. I made chocolate chip pancakes, which I enjoyed in bed with my legs propped up.

My official finish time was 1 hour 49 minutes 3 seconds, which was only about one minute longer than my goal. I had knocked more than ten minutes off my finish time in April, which I was especially proud of given my schedule, which does not lend much extra time for training.

I did what I set out to do - not only running the 13.1 miles, but more importantly, not allowing the training to take over my life. As it turns out, trying to acheive and maintan a balance between all the aspects of your life is not only a key to success and happiness, but also to setting PRs.

Official Finish Time: 1 hour 49 minutes 3 seconds

Averge Split Time: 8 minutes 19 seconds

Unofficial Split Times:

Mile 1: 8 minutes 34 seconds

Mile 2: 8 minutes 5 seconds

Mile 3: 7 minutes 52 seconds

Mile 4: 7 minutes 58 seconds

Mile 5: 8 minutes 5 seconds

Mile 6: 7 minutes 54 seconds

Mile 7: 8 minutes 8 seconds

Mile 8: 8 minutes 8 seconds

Mile 9: 8 minutes 00 seconds

Mile 10: 8 minutes 25 seconds

Mile 11: 10 minutes 20 seconds

Mile 12: 8 minutes 17 seconds

Mile 13.1: 8 minutes 17 seconds

Running in the Rain

My long run this past weekend was a twelve miler. The half-marathon was less than a week away.

As I expected from watching the weather report the night before, I awoke at 8:00 Sunday to a very rainy morning. It was a tough morning to be a runner - such mornings do an excellent job of enticing a person to linger in bed a bit longer, drifting in and out of sleep.

"Normal people do not go out into the pouring rain and run twelve miles," I thought to myself as I munched on a trail mix bar, fueling up for the looming run and watching the steady rain fall outside the kitchen window.

I thought for a second that I could go do my long run on a treadmill at the gym. But I knew running on the treadmill wouldn't prepare me for the course or the terrain for next weekend's half-marathon. I would be soaked by the time I got to the gym anyway. And, honestly, running twelve miles on a treadmill sounded more miserable than just doing it outside.

So, off I went, much to the disapproval of my doorman who shook his head when he saw me. I was drenched by the time I crossed the street. But that's the thing with running in the rain: as much as the first steps outisde are dreaded, when you're soaked, you're soaked. It's not going to get any better, but it can't get any worse.

When I arrived on the Central Park running loop, I was greeted by hundreds of other crazy people: runners doing the eighteen-mile tune-up for the upcoming NYC marathon. I was running in the opposite direction of the race and my part of the road was quiet and sullen in comparison.

We were all soaking wet, doing a long-run in preparation for an upcoming race. I saw faces of happiness, discouragement, pain and determination. I wondered what these runners saw on my face as we silently passed each other.

Parts of the run made me think of playing in the rain as a child. The carefree kind of playfulness that allowed us to run around without worries of ruining clothes, make-up or hair.

Other parts of the run actually made me consider religion, kind of a hefty thought while trying to finish a strong twelve miles. Religion is something that I, self-admittedly, am still a bit confused about.

But this morning, as I ran quietly along the road with the rain pouring down, searching deep within myself for strength and finding inspiration from other runners when I thought I couldn't make it up another hill - I could not imagine anything else feeling so spiritual.

I gave thanks for the things that are so easy to overlook: for my health which allowed me to run, for Mike giving me a running rain jacket he knew I would never buy for myself, for the food which was waiting to refuel my body, for the apartment which would offer a warm shower and shelter from the rain.

One hour and forty-five minutes later, I found myself again standing in my kitchen, watching the rain fall outside the window. Like every Sunday before, I felt cleansed, renewed, at peace with myself and the world.

Fifth Avenue Mile

This past Saturday, I ran the shortest race ever: a one mile race down Fifth Avenue.

Since the race counted towards the requirement for the 2010 NYC Marathon and would not interfere with my current training schedule, it was pretty much a no-brainer to run. I run mile repeats as part of my speedwork, so my goal for the race was to just get out there and run as fast as I could.

The race was run on Fifth Avenue, from 80th Street down to 60th Street. Runner were grouped by gender and age, so my group of 15 to 29 year old females went off at 9:30 AM.

I went out a little fast from the gate and I could feel my legs pull back a bit after the first 400 meters (1/4 mile). But sprinting down the roadway, with the cool, fall air in my face was exhilarating.

I finished in 6 minutes 20 seconds, the fastest I have ever run a mile. I am now just two races shy of completing the requirements to qualify for next year's marathon.

Wrong Turn

The weather in Manhattan this past weekend was the type that makes me giddy with excitement for my favorite season: Fall. The temperature hovered in the low 70s, just a few degrees warmer than a perfect Fall day.

I slept for a blissful eleven hours and woke-up feeling energized Saturday morning. I headed out for a quick, 5 mile tempo run in my new running shoes. The weather was cool and the sunny spots were just right.

Later that afternoon I volunteered for the NYRR, handing out race numbers to those running the Queens Half-Marathon the following day. Volunteering was part of the requirement to qualify for the 2010 NYC Marathon and, while I would have preferred to be outdoors, I was situated next to a big window with lots of sunlight and breeze pouring in. The three hours passed quickly as another volunteer and I exchanged running stories during the slow moments.

Sunday morning arrived and it was time for my weekly long run. I slept for ten hours the night before, but I did not feel nearly as energetic as the morning before. I was groggy, but couldn't go back to sleep. I finally convinced myself to move, figuring that if I got it over with now, I could be propped up in bed for the Patriots game.

The morning was again beautiful as I made my way towards Central Park. When I arrived at the runner's loop, I started running in the opposite direction than my usual. During the previous week, the course map had been published for my upcoming half-marathon. The course is identical to what I ran in April.

In April I was completely unfamiliar with running the loop in the opposite direction and it is a surprisingly different course. So this time I wanted to have a better feel for the timing of the hills, flat portions and unshaded stretches of road.

The problem, I found, with running an unfamiliar direction is that all the turns you know like the back of your hand going the other way suddenly aren't so obvious. So when the loop split, for a second time, near the bottom of the park, I didn't know whether to go left or right. Every one was veering right, but I didn't think enough time had passed and assumed that was the 72nd Street Transverse. Since I wanted to go down to the very bottom of the loop, I figured I would go left.

Not correct. I wound up on the road with parked cars, one that I assume the carriages use as a turn-around point. There were a lonesome other two runners on the road, just enough to make me feel safe. I made my way out of the park, cut across the carriage path and began darting tourist groups (may I ask why tourists must walk as a wall) to make my way back into the park.

Back on safe, recognizable ground, I continued with my run.

Another adjustment this week was my hydration system. After my clip-on water bottle left a permanent scar on my back in April, I had been a little reluctant to try another one. I definitely did not want to strap on one of those ridiculous waist belts I see so many miserable marathoners-in-training wearing in Central Park. So I decided to try a handheld version, which strapped on tightly around my right hand and also, very conveniently, had a little pouch where I could store my electrolyte chews.

Proper hydration during long runs has been somewhat of a mystery to me. The hydration stations during the half-marathon in April were my first experience with such tables - and they were a mess of runners trying to grab-and-go. There was finally an article published on the correct timing and amounts of water needed on a long run: every fifteen minutes, two to four ounces.

Oh. Perhaps waiting an hour to indulge at a water fountain in Central Park was not proper hydration.

So, for this run, every fifteen minutes, I had a few gulps of water. And after an hour, I refueled with my electrolyte chews - I already knew this rule of thumb, but couldn't figure out why my stomach would cramp up, even when I took them with water.

What a difference! I was not doubled-over in pain after the first hour. I did not have to take a detour after consuming my chews because I thought they were going to reappear. I could just focus on running and learning the terrain.

It was the first long run that was actually enjoyable. I ran for the full hour, forty-one minutes and thirteen seconds with minimal pain.

After stretching, a shower, more stretching, an ice bath and breakfast, I sat down to calculate my pace. The run I had originally planned was just shy of 11.5 miles, which made my splits about 8 minutes 48 seconds per mile. But then I remembered my wrong turn and, although I didn't think it would make a difference, mapped out how much it had added on to my run.

It was almost a full mile - I had actually run 12.32 miles, making my splits about eight minutes 13 seconds per mile.

This surprised me - I didn't think I had been running that fast. The whole time I told myself to not to worry about the pace and save energy for the entire run. This was around the pace I was hoping to achieve in the half-marathon, just two weeks away (eek!).

A wrong turn ended up proving a few things to me. I have my endurance back; I will be able to handle the distance and I will probably do better than last time. I just need to remember not to go out too fast. I need to find the place again where everything is working in sync, my mind and body are working together and I am able to maintain a comfortable pace.

In a way, this is a nice realization: knowing that I can set my pace slower than what my legs will want to take in the beginning. On the other hand, it's a bit unsettling to think how race day nerves and adrenaline have a way of overtaking my logical thinking.

Half-Marathon Training

It has been a long time since I have written about running. This has not been intentional - in fact, every time I hit the treadmill or run though Central Park, I think about how I desperately need to write an entry.

In fact, the truth is that running has become my only escape during the day. My runs are now usually the only "me time" I can squeeze into my schedule, so I guess I've become a bit protective over sharing adventures on my runs.

A few weeks into the summer, I found myself in a bit of a fitness rut. I had finished my half marathon in April and since I did not have another distance race in the foreseeable future, I lowered my weekly mileage to avoid injury.

But when I lowered my mileage, I consequently lowered my endurance, making longer distances more of a struggle on the weekends. I grew bored with running for a few weeks and tried to supplement my usual running time on either the elliptical or rowing machines at the gym. I've had a relationship with running long enough to know and expect this will happen every once and awhile.

However, I have also been in this relationship long enough to know that nothing has ever been able to replace the void that running fulls for me, so if I give it a few weeks, I usually come back open arms.

Sure enough, I started to miss running terribly. I realized part of the reason I had lost interest is that I had no races on my calender! There are surprisingly few races held in the summertime, so I had just been running with no real goal.

I got it together and planned out my races for the rest of the year, so that I could still qualify for the 2010 NYC Marathon. I had been using my busy schedule as an excuse to put this goal on a back-burner and it was time to pay more attention to it.

So I signed up for the four remaining races I needed to complete, one of which is a half-marathon in October. That's right, if my schedule wasn't busy enough, I decided to throw in training for a 13.1 mile race as well.

I didn't do this to be selfish; I did it because I wanted to improve on my half marathon in April and I needed a real reason to get my butt back out on the Central Park runner's loop.

I did make one, fairly significant adjustment, to my approach to training. Training for the half-marathon in April became my entire life, not on purpose, it just happened that way. Pastry school had not yet started, so I was still feeling restless and bored at work.

Everything was planned around training; I would never have more than one drink in an evening, I became fairly restrictive with sweets and every meal was consumed with the next run in mind.

I did it all because I thought it would help me become a better runner. And, to a certain extent, it did.

But mother nature threw a curve ball on race day with the heat and humidity. Weather was the one factor I could not control and it contributed, in part, to me not hitting my goal time.

Before the race, I imagined that if I crossed the finish line without hitting my goal time, I would be extremely upset - tears were likely, but I was hoping to spare Mike from the situation.

And I didn't hit my goal time. After I crossed the finish line and met up with a concerned-looking Mike, all I could do is shrug my shoulders and laugh (although that hurt). I finished my race. I was alive. I wanted a beer - no, two actually.

This time around, I couldn't making training my life. My life is work and school. So running was going to have to learn to share.

I have to say, training so far has been far more enjoyable than a few months ago. I try to run three times a week during my lunch hour, but sometimes I only run two times. I find myself telling my legs to back off the pace during my long runs on the weekend, so I can be sure I finish the distance and try to take in the world around me. An entire 90 minutes all to myself is completely rare now, so I want to savor every free moment.

It's tough to be restrictive with sweets when you are in pastry school, so that rule went out the window. And, now, if I want to have two glasses of wine, I let the wine pour freely and do not feel one ounce of guilt.

One of the biggest lessons not hitting my goal time taught me is that I had to achieve a work-school-running-life balance. If I make one of these factors more important than the other, I was risking success and happiness in the others.

Photo Gallery Link

It seems my photo gallery link is a bit hidden from several people who are interested in accessing it.  I have posted the link on the right-hand side of the page, under the "Links" heading as "Photo Gallery".  When you click on photo gallery, it will take you to a page where I upload all my work from class, which you can view individually or as a slideshow.

 

I usually upload new photos to the gallery with each weekly post, which, when I am on schedule, should be every weekend.

 

You can also bookmark the address: http://picasaweb.google.com/amveinote.

 

Enjoy!

Sunrise Run

Monday morning, the morning Mum was heading back to Virginia, came far too quickly.  We spent three care-free days exploring the city: shopping, eating, gossiping and enjoying each other's company.  It's always funny to me how quickly days like that go by, but yet other days (for instance, today as I sit at my desk wondering how only two minutes could have passed since I last wondered how far away 5:00 PM was) can seem like an eternity.

 

Since my Mum and I live rather far apart and both keep busy schedules, there is always a lot of catching-up to do when we finally are together.  So I was shocked and incredibly proud when she announced that she had started running - and wanted to complete a 5K in the fall!  Having already worked up to running 2.5 miles without stopping (and this on the hills in Christiansburg, mind you), I think she will be ready well before she thinks.

 

She needed new running shoes so I took her to get properly fitted at New York Running Company.  I was excited for her as she tried on each pair, remembering the same new-runner enthusiasm I had shown last fall.

 

But I was beginning to feel a little guilty about my recent slacking on my running.  Between my work and school schedule and either being too exhausted or too busy on the weekends, I haven't been able to enjoy much running.  Even during my lunch hour, I dread my treadmill runs.  For me, running on a treadmill is a means-to-an-end; I do not find the same feeling of freedom and relaxation emulated on the treadmill.

 

I was up early this morning to see Mum off to the airport.  After I couldn't see the taxi anymore, I headed back up to my apartment.  5:23 AM.  I knew I wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep.  I could do some housework, but that seemed a rather depressing way to start off an already sullen Monday.  So I went for a run.

 

I ran the 3.75-mile course I had taken Mum for a walk on Saturday morning.  In the park, if I looked over my shoulder, I could see the pink sun starting to rise uptown, reflecting its light and color on the reservoir next to me and waking the skyscrapers downtown.

 

I thought about how different this year's good-bye had been from last summer's.  I was in tears before I made it back up to my apartment last summer.  I crawled back into bed and cried because I was so miserable.  I hated my job, hated the city, hated being so far away from my family.  My relationship with Mike was having lots of ups and downs and most weekends I found myself alone, lost and lonely.  I had no idea what I was doing in Manhattan or why I thought I could make a life for myself here.  Mike thought I was going to move back to Virginia; I had stopped trying to convince him that I wasn't.

 

This year was a little different.  It was still difficult to say good-bye, it always is.  I've been sad today because I know time together is so rare now; I want to go home and spend time with my family.  But I do like the little life I've carved out for myself over the last year.

 

I still hate my job, but I'm taking classes to pursue a career in a field I am truly passionate about.  I don't love the city all the time, but I do like it most of the time.  Mike has been a tremendous support as I've taken on a hectic schedule and, now, the only thing I wish is that we had more time together.

 

The one thing that hasn't changed is that I hate being so far away from my family.  But I find it a little easier to deal with that now that I feel like I've found my little niche, no matter how small, in the city.

 

By 6:10 AM, I was back in my apartment.  It was the kind of run that reconnected me, both to the city and myself.  That's the kind of running I miss.

Happy Fourth of July Weekend

I will be in Upstate New York this weekend celebrating the Fourth of July with part of Mike's family.  So I will continue to run a bit behind on my weekly post - but I hope to be caught up by early next week.  

I love this weekend - the summer is just beginning, family and friends gather together and our freedom is celebrated with good food and good company.

I want to take this opportunity to wish you all a very Happy Fourth of July weekend.  A special thank you to those in my family who have protected our freedom over the years and their wives who have tirelessly supported them.

New York Mini 10K

I was torn on whether or not to register for the NY Mini 10K.  It was a race I wanted to run purely for the significance it has in the history of women's running.  But it fell the morning after the surprise party I was planning for Mike's birthday.

 

In the end I decided to do it because I was having trouble mustering up motivation to hit the treadmill during my lunch hour.  The weekend runs I once craved started becoming somewhat dreaded as I tried to catch-up on sleep from the previous week.  But having a race on the calendar always seems to put things in perspective for me.

 

I woke up Sunday morning, still exhausted from the stress and excitement of pulling off the surprise party the night before.  I winced at the sunlight when I stepped outside.  I knew I couldn't ask for a better day for running: high 60's, partly sunny, not too humid.  But I really just wanted to crawl back into my cool, cozy bed with the blinds drawn tight.

 

The race started on 61st and Central Park West and I yawned the entire way over.  I sleepily entered my corral and made a half-hearted attempt to stretch.  I love running in women-only races, the atmosphere is much friendlier and there aren't as many people to trip over.  But the nervous-energy and chatter of all the females around me was a bit much to handle when I was so tired.

 

Mary Wittenberg, the president and CEO of NYRR, stepped-up to the microphone to give her usual pre-run motivational speech.  I usually do not listen too closely, but something she said really caught my attention.  In talking about how much women's running has changed in the 38 runnings of the race, she congratulated all of the 4,300 women standing on Central Park West that morning, "Ladies, today we are here to celebrate you, to celebrate that you manage to fit running into your busy lives."

 

Despite how tired I felt, I killed the first 5K of the race, clocking all my splits under 7 minutes and 30 seconds.  Running felt effortless and easy.  But as soon as I passed the 5K marker, the hilly paths of Central Park started reminding my body that is was exhausted and worn-down.  My pace slowed and I seemed to be fighting my legs to stay on the course and not start running towards the apartment.

 

The second half of the race was definitely a mind-over-body experience.  I kept looking for landmarks, kept thinking of how I could sleep all afternoon if I wanted, kept thinking about what I was going to eat for breakfast.  I crossed the finish line in 48 minutes 39 seconds, just one second shy of my PR for a 10K.  My split times were saved by my speedy first half, averaging out to 7 minutes 50 seconds per mile.

 

It was a tough run, but sometimes those are the most special.  It was a true reflection of fitting running into my very hectic schedule: half the time it's easy and free, half the time it's tough and painful.  But finishing each run and each race gives me a sense of satisfaction and pride that I cannot seem to find anywhere else.

Healthy Kidney 10K

It seems like it's been forever since I have written about running.  This is not because I'm not running anymore, but because the pastry program has pretty much taken over my life and, honestly, I am way more excited to share my weekly pastry updates than my squeezed-in lunchtime treadmill runs.

 

I am still running - three or four times a week in fact.  After recovering from the half-marathon, I shifted my focus my attention to shorter-distance races, as summertime is the season for 5Ks (3.1 miles) and 10Ks (6.2 miles).  

 

I ran the Healthy Kidney 10K last Saturday in Central Park.  This was my first 10K and while I was not worried about finishing, racing a new distance is always a learning experience - how fast should I go out, where shoudl I back-off or push the pace, at what miles will I feel strong or miserable?

 

The morning was cool and overcast, as the afternoon was supposed to bring rain showers.  The start line was on the West side, so I hopped on a cross-town bus to make my commute a bit easier.  I felt a little guilty take the bus to go run a race, but I was relieved to find many other runners sporting race bibs in my company.

 

The race was almost at full capacity (5,000 runners) and, for some reason, my starting position was much further back than usual.  I nervously hopped in place in my corral, waiting for the piercing noise of the start gun.  "Runners...on your mark...get set....BANG!"  As soon as the gun went off, the skies opened up - it was pouring.  For the first mile and a half, I not only dodged too-slow runners, but felt like I was running through a waterfall.  I couldn't see very far and the heavy raindrops kept getting under my contacts.

 

At about the second mile marker, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started.  The rain shower left behind soaked runners with 96% humidity.  I'm pretty sure the "slosh, slosh, slosh" of 5,000 pairs of sneakers could be heard throughout the city.  My right shoulder started whining in pain - I had probably tensed my upper body way more than I should have during the first few miles.  Then my shoelace came untied, which wouldn't have been too much of a problem, except I couldn't get my shoulder to cooperate long enough to tie it.

 

Fifteen seconds later, I was back in the race, completely regretting wearing a black sports bra under my white running shirt.  I distracted myself for the next mile wondering if Mum would be upset with me if she was here.  Her philosophy of "A lady never wears a black bra under a white shirt" had crossed my mind while I was getting ready that morning - but my new, hectic schedule wasn't leaving much time for laundry during the week.  I concluded that she would probably let it pass, just this once.

 

Despite another untied shoe, I finished the race very strong.  Mike was away for the weekend, so I started on my way home as soon as I crossed the finish line.  I thought about catching another bus, but decided against it due to being drenched in rain water and sweat.  Back in the apartment, I enjoyed a nice, hot shower, climbed back into my pajamas and put together a little breakfast for myself.  As soon as the groceries were delivered, I hopped back into the unmade bed to enjoy a couple hours of relaxation - blog writing and Food Network.

 

The results of the race were posted quickly and I was happy to have finished the 6.2 miles in 48 minutes 38 seconds - putting my average split time at 7 minutes 50 seconds.

 

I felt like I had found a good race distance for my new schedule.  As my only opportunity to run during the week is my lunch hour, I usually cannot squeeze in more than three miles at a time.  10Ks would allow me to do shorter training runs during the week and a longer run on the weekends.

 

I do not always look forward to running during my lunch hour; lack of sleep and the mind-numbness of my job usually put me in autopilot mode until 5 PM.  But knowing what the evening's class will hold in terms of tastings sometimes offers me all the motivation I need - like tonight, when we "have" to try nine different flavors of ice cream, accompanied by freshly made cones and four different sauces.  I've never been more inspired to finish my tempo run!