Bah Humbug

Last Friday, I completed my longest run ever! Jenn and I charged the park and decided to head North as far as I've ever gone without a bike. We completed the upper 5-mile loop in a little over an hour with running intervals averaging ten minutes with short brisk walks in between. Up at Harlem and Great Hills, we bounded up the stairs towards buns of steel.

I wish I felt good about this. In truth, I didn't so much. Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm in a rut.

Since this past weekend was the first time I was in New York in several weeks, I was really dreading looking forward to being able to do the TNT Saturday run. I hosted a little holiday donation party (WHERE WERE YOU SCOTT) that Friday and it was supposed to be a lowkey and early 7:30-9:30pm affair. But since, you know, 20-somethings run on their own schedule, most people didn't show until around 9:30pm. But I was good! I was preparing for the early morning! More wine, Celeste? Oh no, thanks, I'm running in the morning! You're crazy. I know!

The final guest didn't leave until well past my bedtime. I suppose I could've kicked people out but my good friend was in town who I hadn't seen in a while and yadda yadda yadda blah blah blah. After a crazed week with little sleep, I woke up at noon. Whoops.

Maybe it was because I felt guilty for not running. Maybe it's because heavy snowstorms make me sentimental. Maybe it's because I'm allergic to the cold. Regardless, I started feeling rather blue. I've been feeling a little down on myself lately. A little unpretty and a little lonely. This time of year has the habit of making me a little sad and a little fat which subsequently makes me sadder which in turn makes me fatter. I get caught in a yearly cycle of weight-loss/weight-gain. I know how to do it. I know how to stay in control. But I just lose that drive when the thermometer nosedives and I adopt the habits of pre-hibernation mammals. It's not uncommon. This is why there's a spike in gym memberships and weightloss groups after the New Year. I may be exercising more, but I'm eating. And eating. And eating. It didn't help that on the Saturday I missed the morning run, I tried to put on my jeans for the first time in a while and found that they didn't quite fit so well. It felt like wrestling latex onto a Hippo. Nor did it help that I mistakenly grabbed a maternity-sized dress (it was cute!) in TopShop and it didn't fit either (Granted, it was several sizes too small anyways but still. It stings.). You know it's a bad day when a goddamn maternity dress doesn't fit you. I'm in that time when your stomach turns a knot when you see a picture of yourself. That night, to compensate/make myself feel better/drown my sorrows/whatever the hell the rationale is to eat more when you feel badly, I ate. Ravioli. Mac & Cheese. Steak. Cake. Cookies. Cold pizza. I ate everything.

Even the accomplishment of my speed-training on Tuesday (I did it with Jenn as I didn't have time to do it with TNT) didn't make me feel any better. I ran the longest continuous interval I've ever run without a walk (2 miles) and did the whole 30-minute workout with only 2 1-minute walks towards the end. It was killer. I should've felt proud. Instead, I just wondered how the hell I would be able to do that 4 more times to complete a half-marathon. At least one person was proud of me. Jenn has been working overtime to pump me up and we've talked about some training eating plans to get me back on track for the New Year.

The journey home for Christmas didn't lift my spirits. Amtrak decided to have a power outage so I cancelled my train and booked a flight. My flight was delayed so I decided to read and enjoy a beverage. When I went to check to see if the flight was ready to board, I found that the plane had already left. They got a gate change (I heard that announcement) and were able to leave earlier (I did not hear that one). I've never missed a flight in my life. The next flight wasn't until 9pm. Which got delayed until 10:30pm. Fun times. At least there was a bar. Christmas was nice, though, despite or in spite of eating my body weight in macaroni and cheese.

I hope everyone is enjoying the holiday season. Thanks again for reading and for your support.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, TWELVE

Anticipating a frigid bout of wintry mix in the Greater Boston area this morning, I moved my regularly scheduled Saturday long run to Friday (yesterday). Anyone in Massachusetts can see clearly today that, though brisk, it's quite lovely outside (and by quite lovely, I mean a typical New England winter day). Thanks for the accurate forecast, Nicolas.

I've been feeling a little bit of pain lately on the top of my left foot; a diagnosis from Dr. Mom revealed that I've likely been tying my shoes a little too tightly. This ought to come as no surprise to those who know me and my penchant for very skinny jeans. I re-laced the ol' Brooks sneakers, threw on some very stylish new gear courtesy of Hannukah Harry and the fine folks at City Sports, wore my mom's snazzy Garmin watch, and hit the road for one of my most favorite runs yet: a 12-miler from the Boston Common in the center of downtown all the way out to our bucolic (sort of...) suburb outside the city.

Apart from having an opportunity to show off my very chic new Nike outerwear, I was looking forward to this one for a number of reasons.

• First, I've never run 12 miles before. As I mentioned in a previous post, as soon as TnT hit the 10-mile mark, each run going forward would be my longest-yet. This lends an added element of accomplishment to each Saturday bout of hauling ass and further legitimizes my post-run gorging. If you're curious, yesterday's snacks of choice were Raisinets, Chinese food, and beer. Hurray for a very balanced lifestyle.
• Second, I've never done a long run by myself. Running with my six or seven TnT compatriots is a social affair; everyone talks for the bulk of the workout and, as a result, it rarely feels like we've been pounding the pavement for ninety minutes. I was a little nervous about being out alone on the road with only my thoughts (iPods are for wimps, people) and holiday traffic to guide me along. Moreoever, I rely on teammates for pacing. Quick theory interlude: When going out for a long run during a marathon training program, you don't want to be a speed demon; you save the really fast runs for shorter distances or interval workouts. I have a very hard time keeping myself at a consistent, steady pace. Often I'll dart out too quickly and not even realize it. We aim for around an 8:00 minute/mile pace on Saturday workouts.
• Which brings me to my third point: I was very excited to try out a Garmin watch to help with the aforementioned pacing. As I couldn't just run along with the pack, I tried out my mom's very sophisticated Garmin watch. It tells you time, distance, and PACE. A glance down every couple minutes (or if you're obsessive like me, every twenty seconds) will tell you how fast you're actually going and enable you to make a conscious, deliberate decision to slow down or speed up. Or go home and eat.

That being said, as soon as I made my way around the Common, I knew things were going to be just fine. I went out a bit too fast (my first mile was at a 7:46 pace; it should have been an 8:30) but found that the combination of taking in new scenery and the rush of being alone propelled me well. I was reading an old issue of Runner's World yesterday and laughed when I read about people singing to themselves on long runs alone. Well, thank you, Jonathan Larson. For whatever reason, repeating whole verses from everyone's favorite rock musical Rent pushed me over the Mass Pike. La vie boheme, indeed.

I was too caught up in keeping track of my pace and actually making my way home safely (despite the fact that I ran almost exclusively on one very long street) to engage in weighty intellectual discussions with myself. I found that for the bulk of the run, my head was empty, my thoughts more concerned with the practicalities ahead. Only when I got home did I realize that a good 10 miles or so were part of the Boston Marathon course.

That one's another goal for another time. Yesterday's 7:50 minute/mile average pace is accomplishment enough for right now. And that means more Raisinets when my brother and I go see Avatar later today.

Florida and Big Dinners and Sunshine and Books and Stuff

Holiday greetings to all from sunny Palm Beach, Florida where the yentas play and we sip pinot noir like every day.

Vacation here has been lovely (if not a little bit ridiculous). Coming here can be like entering an alternate universe - there's more money, more gossip, and more nylon tracksuits than anywhere you could possibly find in New York City (save for maybe the 92nd Street Y). In between stuffing my face at the delicious restaurants Nana and Papa have secured reservations at (can we please talk about the Ocean Dragon at the Asian fusion palace downtown last night?), I've been keeping abreast of what's expected of the TnT-ers during this holiday week (and do look at the hyperlink when you've finished reading this entry...tee hee). I hit the road yesterday and banged out a nice 6 miler keeping up a steady 7:10 pace, which to my fellow elderly speed demons on the street must've looked like something out of The Fast and the Furious. Wearing shorts and a t-shirt, I needed about a mile or so to ease into the run; I think my body was somewhat shocked by the severe climate change and needed to adjust. Running along the intercoastal was fantastic and the experience was diminished only by the uneven sidewalk. Alas.

As tonight's group run is all about speed training, I wanted to have accurately timed intervals. Without the Garmin-wearing TnT teammates telling me when to pick up the pace and when to recover, I felt more comfortable on the treadmill, taking advantage of the exact timing/speed (and the cushiony surface). Since starting with Team in Training, I haven't once been on the machine and forgot what it feels like (a little piece of heaven compared to hilly Central Park). Armed with some headphones and a quality episode of Law and Order (SVU, obvi), I am happy to report that the hour-plus workout felt like nothing. By the time I'd finished eight rounds of 3 minutes hauling ass (even faster)/3 minutes recovering, Christopher Meloni had solved the case and looked mighty handsome doing it.

Having showered and eaten, I'm now enjoying the Floridian afternoon slump wherein you count down the hours to your evening dinner plans. Keeping up the running mindset, I've just downloaded Liz Robbins's A Race Like No Other to my Kindle and am very pleased with this new addition to the marathon book club (the first book being Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running). A journalist by trade, Robbins tracks seven or eight runners over the course of completing the 2007 New York City marathon. I'm only a few chapters in and am totally engrossed. Those she profiles include a 22 year old cancer survivor, elite runners like Paula Radcliffe, and a fiftysomething "glamorous grandma" on her 35th marathon. Robbins alternately highlights these individual racers and provides a fascinating, panoramic history of the race itself and the historic markers along the course. What I'm really taking away from the book is the idea that though Robbins has picked just several individuals, each runner has his own story likely worth documenting.

I guess this blog is how I'm choosing to narrate my own.

Run, Fat Boy, Run!

I'm going to be frank and get it out there: this was not my finest week of marathon training. In fact, I was dubious about my being able to pull off today's long run satisfactorily. Let's consider what was working against my favor.

1.) I drank a lot. Like, a lot, a lot.

2.) As a result of said drinking, I sampled much of the Lower East Side's finest streetside cuisine upon returning home each night. This included several falafel pockets and a few slices of pizza. Eating in the wee small hours does wonders for your physique.

3.) I gorged my way through both floors of my office, snacking on gifts and devouring platters at our three holiday parties this week. We know how to kick it in the buildup to Christmas and New Year's. With McDonald's, macaroni and cheese, and ice cream cake, obvi.

4.) I wasn't exactly diligent when it came to following this week's calendar. I showed up to practice on Tuesday and eked out a lame run on Wednesday....yeah. I spent most of the week at bars and movies.

So. My alarm rang this morning for today's 10-11 miler at 7:00 a.m. as per usual. Still tired from an uneasy night's rest, I hit the snooze button, slept for another HOUR, and woke up at 8:05 needing to be way on the Upper West Side by 8:30. I threw on clothes, swiped a Gatorade from my roommate (I'll buy you another one!), ran to the corner store and bought a Powerbar, and booked it uptown via a $20 cab ride. 

No dice. I arrived too late and the group was gone. Rather than go my own way, properly warm-up, and ease into a comfortable race pace, I hauled ass in an effort to try and catch up with my pacing group. Pounding the pavement for three and a half miles, I finally caught the gang near the West Village and was thankful to have company and conversation on this frigid, windy morning. The breeze off the Hudson was intermittently killer but we knocked out a solid 11.6 miles at a 7:50-ish pace (factoring in my ridiculous starting few). I sprinted the final dash with one of the girls in my pacing group and as we whooped it up coming into the group corral, a thought came to me:

My next run will be beachside in sunny Florida.

Adios, NYC; vacation awaits. See you on the flipside, racers and fans.

Broccoli, Broccoli!

Oh. Hey there. I um...hi. Do...do I know you?

So, yeah, I fell off the face of the earth for a little bit. Well, not really fell off of it, just went some different places on it. But I'm back!

I traveled to Miami and Los Angeles, both very sunny and warm places except when I'm in town apparently. The past couple of weeks, I've been dealing with a gross cold and a lot of work. I fully intended to keep up with my running schedule but, well, you know. I thought about going for a 3-mile run in Miami despite having a cold. I napped instead. Hey, at least I even brought my sneakers. The days between trips were so congested (GET IT) that I only managed a small workout with Jenn and blew off TNT altogether. In LA, I once again brought my sneakers and, you know what? I actually did my Saturday 3-4 mile run. 3.2 miles counts for that, right? I kept to a slow pace to get my body readjusted again. Up until I stepped on the treadmill, I had been feeling cranky and a bit anxious. Once I completed my mileage (or rather, once The Soup ended and the so-unbearable-E! True Hollywood Story: The Kardashians-that-I-had-to-leave-the-gym started), I felt infinitely better, lighter even. This subsequently made me mad. Running is now a necessity to my well-being. Goddammit.

So back in New York, back on track. I was a mess yesterday, hitting the ground running (HA) with a full plate of work that has kept me sleepless and stressed up until right now. Working out was a good way to take a break and clear my head. After doing a little arms and abs with my girl Jenn, I trudged over to Bethesda Fountain for my first TNT training in two weeks. Last time proved disastrous in the social arena but strong in the arm swinging, I guess. Tonight was cross-training night and we alternated 10 minute runs with 10 minute strengthening intervals (lunges, step-ups, abs, etc). Hooo boy I feel the burn today. The highlight of the workout was our man Broccoli. Broccoli was a rather colorful homeless character named for, among other nonsensical bon mots, his occasional yelling of "Broccoli, broccoli!". He got in on the action every now and then, blasted some Rihanna, and helpfully counted out our reps in various languages. Suddenly we had a crazytown TNT cheerleader. Well, we did until five squad cars pulled into the area and took him away. I was sad to see him go.

Lessons Learned: I am an antisocial runner. Really, I don't feel like chatting with you when I slogging up a hill. Unless you're Jenn, in which case you're usually telling me fun stories to distract and keep me moving.

After practice, I hustled Scott so we could get to the subway in hopes of having an opportunity to chat with Guy in a Dodgers Hat (again not wearing the hat but a red sweatshirt). I skipped down the stairs but didn't see him. So we walked down the platform, me a little sad, Scott in ultratight pants. And there he was! But some chick was talking to him. Damn her. We wait. The train comes. He gets on, she doesn't. So we all shuffle into the same car. Do it, Celeste. Just do it.

And guess what? I said hi! I shook his hand! I got his name! As per usual, I blacked out most of the interaction. I vaguely recall making him laugh at one point about Broccoli (thanks Mr. Broccoli, wherever precinct you are, for providing me with a brief moment of humor). That's good, I think. He has piercing blue eyes and is totally a little awkward which I kind of love. So yeah. I did it. Finally. Now I'll probably spend the rest of the season ignoring his existence.

The training was a good little break in my hectic week but oh man is it Friday yet? I just want to chill out like this guy:

Onwards.

Celeste Is Hopeless and Other Short Stories

Let's Time Travel for a Moment

Since I disappeared for a bit, I figured I'd recap an important practice two weeks ago to highlight how immensely lame I am.

Two weeks ago, we focused on our arm swing. This is super important for me to get down pat. I definitely cramp up in my shoulders and have been carrying a lot of tightness and pain there over the past several months. We did intervals up and down a flat stretch on the east side, running at a full pace with exaggerated arm swings for the distance of six lamp posts followed by a normal run for 3. I ran with Scott's coworker and our new TNT buddy Lindsay! We were given no hint to when the intervals would end. So back and forth we went. Back and forth. And...back. Aaaand forth. Back forth. I have no idea how long we were running but I'm going to venture to guess that we completed 18,000 miles.

Anyway, during the warm up I was running behind none other than Guy in a Dodgers Hat! Except he wasn't wearing the hat but a red sweatshirt. But for simplicity, we'll keep him as the Guy in a Dodgers Hat. Because I'm incredibly lame, I didn't say hi. Instead, I decided to increase the volume of my voice on interesting Celeste Facts while talking to Lindsay. "WHEN I LIVED IN CHINA..." or "I'M STUDYING FOR THE FOREIGN SERVICE EXAM" or "THAT TIME ON MOUNT EVEREST." You know, like a normal person would.

So afterwards, I'm waiting for my group to get their stuff together so we can walk to the unofficial TNT post-training bar spot. Who is standing outside? Guy in a Dodgers Hat. Do I say anything? No. Suddenly my iPhone gets really interesting instead. I internally beat the crap out of myself. And we're walking to the bar. Who is literally feet behind us? Guy in a Dodgers Hat. Seize the moment, Celeste. At one point he was like a foot over my shoulder. So I'm like, maybe he's coming to the bar. Perfect. I'll say hi then. And for all ten blocks of me not saying hello, it seemed like he was indeed coming to the bar. And just as we were nearing the spot, he hopped on the crosstown bus.

Speed Training in THE FREEZING COLD

Well....tonight was a little tricky. 

I woke up planning to run early...then went back to bed.

I thought I might hit Central Park at lunch....and got Cafe Metro's finest Cape Cod Turkey Sandwich instead. Mmm, tasted like home! And by home, I mean suburban Boston nowhere near Cape Cod.

Which left me to my devices alone at night after work. The 27 degree winter air turned "Manhattan's verdant oasis" into a mostly empty, freezing course of little fun. Tonight's exercise was another bout of speed intervals, though the ANTE WAS UPPED. 3 minutes (not 2 like last time) of hauling ass, followed by a 3 minute recovery. 3 times. Then, 2 minutes of hauling ass even faster, followed by a 3 minute recovery. 3 times. Preceded and followed by 10-minute warm-up/cool-down. 

Thinking of rock-hard legs/abdominal muscles in a couple of months (and my stupidity in failing to wear gloves) the entire time, I pushed through the workout with minimal huffing and puffing but looking something like Arnold Schwarzenegger's character in the Batman movies (look it up, people!). Though glad to have met this evening's requirement, I think it's fair to say that the post-run marathon of Glee, Jersey Shore, and Modern Family was a liittttttlllleeee more enjoyable.

GAME ON

Since my last post and that spectacular (hardly) 7-miler, we've had two great workouts with Team in Training, one independent interval workout, and another "easy run" that I wuss-ed out on after getting a stomachache from Cafe Metro's finest Turkey Chili. As I've mentioned on the blog previously, that I'm running and working out with the advanced group is still a pretty big source of humor--and, not gonna lie, pride--for me. I realize I sound like a bit of a dork here, but I love that my body is able to not only withstand what the coaches throw at us, but actually do pretty well with it. Mentally, I can't begin to explain the kind of satisfaction I'm deriving from becoming more of an athlete each practice.

I mean, let's not kid ourselves. Remember when I looked like this? That was my high school graduation more than five years ago. Despite the ridiculous Hello Kitty grin plastered on my face, I was unhappy with my body and completely out-of-shape. I keep this photo on my Blackberry to show friends that there's some sort of legitimacy to my body dysmorphia-lite. Moreover, the pic is inspiration enough to get up at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning, schlep to Central Park, and bang out 8 miles in 40 degrees with light rain falling. 

Which is exactly what I did today. Today was the second of our "distance" runs - we kept it at a comfortable just-sub-8:00 pace and did the middle 4-mile loop twice. Ran with a really fun group of 7 other people or so; entertaining conversation made the whole thing pass by quickly and I was really pleased to finish feeling still-energized and able to keep hauling ass. The trick, I'm learning, is that slowing down at the beginning makes the later push substantially easier. Next week we're up to double-digits, people! A highlight was running opposite and high-fiving my amazing co-worker and friend Lindsay Schuster, who recently signed up for the Vancouver Half. Look out for more on her progress here, too. 

Where was Celeste, you ask? Oh you know, NBD, just enjoying the sun and art in South Beach for Basel. 

Bastard.

Back to business: the past two workouts have been pretty great. On Tuesday night, we learned about speed intervals. After a brief warm-up, you haul ass for two minutes, recover for three, and repeat the process for a total of six go-arounds. A very different kind of running for me and really enjoyable, particularly with TnT coach Steve kicking our asses in the process. Repeating it alone in Central Park a couple of days later felt awesome. I'm starting to get the hang of some of these nuances and it's exciting for someone who used to be a hot mess couch potato.

If it isn't readily apparent, I'm stoked at this point. Onward, ho(es)!

Some Numbers!

Thanks to your generous donations, Scott and I have raised a combined $1628. That's amazing! Our whole mentor group (12 people) has raised a total $2363 for the LLS! Now I may not be a math wiz or anything but looks to me like Karl and Ru are the heavyweight fundraisers in the bunch. We feel so loved!

We still have a long ways to go to reach our goal so donate now! We'll love you forever!

If Scott or I reach $1000 today, we win WINTER WEATHER GEAR. I know you don't want us getting cold (we may also have been promised a free alcoholic beverage or two from our mentor Stephanie). So far your donations have earned us each a pair of socks, a visor, and a nifty drawstring bag.

Thanks again for everyone's support. You are helping a tremendous cause and really bolstering our drive to keep going.

A Fresh Start in the Rain

I could literally murder someone for a piece of pie right now.

You think I'm kidding. I don't eat a lot of sugar on a normal basis and now all my body wants is another hit. My leg is shaking under my desk as I write. My eye has developed a twitch. This is serious. I must hold off and get this stuff out of my system. I'm going cold turkey. Pun intended. GET IT?!

Anyways. Yesterday, I got back to the city relatively safe, sober, and sugarfree. I was meeting Jenn at 3pm for my first run since adding another chin to my collection and was certainly not looking forward to it. I didn't manage to get in another 2-3 mile run like I was supposed to over the weekend and was intent on making it up. The weather was foggy, gusty and rainy as if New York had a cold but I was adamant about taking on the park. And showing off my new Under Armour raingear, obvs.

From the moment we started jogging, I felt like I was starting over again. I felt heavy, out of shape and my chins shins were instantly bothering me. We forged ahead, though, cutting a loop up the hilly eastside, crossing over above the Jackie O. reservoir and coming back down the westside. I was all over the place but managed four running intervals ranging from 7.5 min to a full 12 with 2-4 minute brisk walks in between. Each interval got stronger even as my whining and huffing got louder. I probably put out a solid 4 miles in total. It's a start but I've got a lot of work to do.

Now if I could stop fantastizing about pie...

Hometown Hero, Part II

On this post-Thanksgiving trip back to New York, I am thankful for Celeste and her ability to find the funniest shit on the Internet. If you haven’t yet viewed the link she posted (here, again, for your convenience), I politely insist that you do so now.

Being back at the parents’ place for a few days was relaxing and full of exceptionally fattening cuisine. Over the course of the past twenty-four hours, I single-handedly consumed most of the innards of a grocery store-bought apple pie. Thank you Roche Brothers for sharing your delicious, heart attack-inducing baked goods with the world.

Dinner with the family was the usual raucous affair at my grandparents’ country club culminating with a meeting of my grandmother’s family (ours) and her ex-husband’s second wife’s (got that clear?) that may very well have resembled the first meeting of the Pilgrims and the Native Americans. How apropos! Fear not, gentle reader: a few vodka-sodas later, all were in great spirits. Before passing out in the car ride home (go me!), I very vividly recall my mom insisting that each individual family unit comprising the extended group pose for “hilarious family photos.” The results are not pretty and will not be posted here (though I may send a few to the wait staff as a token of appreciation for their putting up with us).

As I couldn’t join TNT for the group run in Central Park today, I ran my assigned seven miles all by my lonesome self in the old ‘hood. Armed with ye olde crafty G-Map Pedometer, I mapped out what I thought looked like a fun alternative to the standard jaunt in and out of town center. What I failed to realize was that this “new route” was almost entirely uphill (with a couple of real muthas in there for even more “fun”). Did I mention the severe wind warnings issued this morning in the Greater Boston area?

Stuffed Scott + mostly uphill course + 30 m.p.h. winds smacking my wimpy frame around = not the most enjoyable run of all time.

To my credit, I pounded it out in a legit time and was able, upon completion, to walk to the car to further feed my face at lunch. I am currently relaxing my knees on the Amtrak en route to New York, as Imperial Master Coach Christine has us running another fifty minutes tomorrow. I suppose that’s more reason to get schwasted in the city tonight, yes? Yes. Yes I will yes.

Life Lessons

Don't wear control top stockings on Thanksgiving.

Moonwalking to the Finish Line

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

Kudos to Scott and his restraint because I sure as hell did not have any last night.

Homegirl started early. My car on the 6pm train to Boston turned into a bit of a bar scene. Booze was flowing at every seat either in celebration of the holiday or in anticipation of facing relatives...or both. For some reason, I have an unbelievable ability to make random aging businessmen guys fall in love with me on trains and planes. Last night was no exception. When it came time for one of my fellow passengers to disembark at Rte. 128, he grabbed my hand, stared me in the eyes and boozily cooed, "You are my train girlfriend." Thank you, Sir.

I was home sweet home by 9:45pm and Benny B and Scooter came over shortly after. We were missing our other friend Sami and the gusto to go out hard like we usually do but we forged on like the champions that we are. Scott was smart and went home in preparation for a run this morning. Ben and I picked up the vodka.

Oh, honeychild.

After Ben left, I raided the fridge in an attempt to curtail the impending poison. Let's just say that the situation was so severe that — for the first time in the history of the world — I did not finish a piece of pie. This morning...oh boy. I was going to post another "rough" picture but it was way too rough. When I stumbled downstairs in search of nausea-reducing carbohydrates, my mom asked me why there were tons of scrapes all over the front patio. Memories of a late night outdoor Michael Jackson dance off with Ben and his sister Lily came flooding back. My shoes apparently murdered the bluestone. This is what attempts at a moonwalk and spin look like:

But the point of this story is that I RAN TODAY. This is probably the most exercise I've enjoyed on a Thanksgiving outside of my usual pie-to-mouth bicep curl routine. I did it, Scott! My half marathon schedule suggested 2-3 miles today. And well, it was a struggle but I completed three loops of the Brookline reservoir (approx. 2.73 miles total). A beautiful way to spend the raw day:

That iPhone photo looks like a freaking painting! I was more concerned with not dying getting the mileage in over consistent running so I ended up doing a walking loop with my mom, a loop and a half running and the rest at a slow run/walk/run pace. Feeling pretty good and sassy, I also decided to chug up my hell hill of a driveway and work that ass. My new shoes and I are in a bit of a fight but I think we can work it out.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a healthy and happy Thanksgiving. Thanks for your support. I am thankful for everything life puts on my plate. Even if it's dry stuffing.

Dance it out, Michael.

Hometown Hero?

Back home for Thanksgiving...the highlight of which is obviously watching Glee with Courtney (see above).

Got together with Ben (from "The Mailbag" fame) and Celeste (you know her well enough by now) last night for our annual Scott-Ben-Celeste reunion at Celeste's house, where I showed remarkable restraint in not drinking (the Hughey bar is unrivaled in the metro-west area). Woke up, put on my Team in Training shirt for the first time, and hit the road for a comfortable 6-miler around the old neighborhood. It's always really weird to run on the streets near my house; remember that for the entirety of the 18 years I lived here, I was never in nearly good enough shape to make my way around them. Something of a personal victory. 

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! Celestial, get ya ass on the road today!

MAKE IT WORK!

Last night was the first of what I’m sure will be many instances where fitting the TNT schedule into “real life” becomes something of an obstacle. As I was busy filling my liver with toxins during the first training run, I was determined to hit the road with my teammates at the second group session. Plans were nearly thwarted when tickets for a hot show I’ve been really looking forward to seeing became available. The 5-mile training run started at 6:40 in the Park; curtain was at 8:00 in midtown. No way to do both consecutively. When I called Celeste at work and told her I’d likely have to run on my own during lunch to complete the mileage, she turned on the Tim Gunn and ordered me to “make it fucking work.” 

I hopped the train uptown and met up with Celeste, Stephanie, and a crowd of…a lot of women. Gotta admit, before finding Celeste I was a little nervous knowing practically nobody. When the coaches began to explain the four, five, and six mile loops in Central Park (with which, having lived on the UES for a year, I’m really familiar) my own comfort with the various courses alleviated any anxiety. The coaches split us into three groups – beginner, intermediate, and advanced – and, to my surprise, I met the criteria for advanced (the ability to run six miles comfortably). It hit me that this was the first time in my life I’d ever been identified as “advanced” in any kind of athletic context. Ever. The sole exception was being granted the “Most Improved Player” award at Pine Manor Tennis Camp in fifth grade, but I suspect that was more of a pat on the back for building up just enough endurance that summer to stop flooding the court with sweat during matches.

We started with an easy jog and maxed at what felt like a 7:50 pace. Slowing down was honestly a little tough, but both my mom and the coaches have been stressing the importance of it. I suspect they know a bit more than I do, so I’m trying to take their advice. Repeating the Celeste-inspired mantra –make it fucking work – I veered off at the southern edge of the Park, sprinted back to the office, changed (still sweaty) into nicer clothes, and bolted to the theatre with a bag of pretzels for sustenance. I’d like to give a shout-out to my apocrine glands for giving me the gift of limited body odor, as my co-worker appeared not to notice any rank scent. Or at least was nice enough not to mention one. 

Great run, fabulous show; this whole thing may work out after all.

Guy in a Dodgers Hat

So there's this guy in a Brooklyn Dodgers hat who I think is pretty cute...

I first noticed him sitting with the Vancouver marathon group at Kick-off. Then I spotted him across the massive sea of runners on Saturday. He even runs in the beginner group, who I'll be running in from here on out for reasons explained below. But oh! I was looking so rough! As it was still before my normal wake-up time when the run was done, I wasn't feeling too social. So I said my goodbyes and headed out of the Park to catch the subway back downtown. While waiting an eternity and a half for a train, I popped in my headphones and dreamed that Guy in a Dodger's Hat would appear on the platform and we'd strike up a conversation and fall in love and it'd be great. He never came. But the train did and I moped on and settled into a seat. In a dramatic moment out of "Sliding Doors", Guy in a Dodgers Hat pushed through the doors as they came to a close. Oh my God, I thought to myself, this is it. This is fate. Say something. But...I have my headphones on...and he's near the door and I'm sitting down and...just say something...but I'll look like a stalker for recognizing him...say something...Oh no!...Now he put his headphones on...chance lost...maybe not...just have to say something.

I just sat there. I did nothing.

Okay, okay, I bargained, if he gets off at my stop I'll say something. Each stop went by and he didn't get off. This is it. This is fate. Aaand one stop before mine he hops off. Of course.

I am an idiot.

First Group Run

While Scott was boozing and cheering on Yale on Saturday, I was cursing the closed off B train and non-existent C train, dashing to a cab, and getting stuck in traffic in a desperate race to make it to Central Park for the first TNT group run.

Above all, I was wondering why the hell I was awake at 9:30am on a weekend morning. Despite getting to bed early, I was feeling (and looking) rough:

A not all too uncommon occurrence: I was late. Luckily, when I reached Bethesda Terrace, I was greeted by a MASSIVE group. Spot Stephanie, our mentor.

The coaches were just finishing their pep talk so I stealthily slid into the group (or as stealthy as a wild child 6 footer can manage). We were going to run the roughly 1.7 mile lower loop of the park. For beginners and half marathoners, the coach suggest one loop. For advanced and intermediate runners, he suggested two. I eat that loop for breakfast. No problem, I thought, I'm gonna hit the ground running (pun intended) and take off with the advanced group. For longer distances, I've been training with the Galloway technique: running with short walking intervals. I've worked up to 10 minute intervals in the past and can do the flat Reservoir loop without a walking interval in a good 16 minutes. So alright, I thought, I can make this first loop and do a leisurely second loop.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

These people are runners. Despite it being a "conversational pace", I was quickly wheezing at anyone who wanted to chit-chat. And hello, Hills! I got a good 15 minutes of running in before I started to find myself drifting further and further back in the pack. I opted to do a walking interval and my mentor Stephanie caught up with me and walked it with me. I explained that I had thrown myself in too hard and she assured me that it's okay and I've got nothing to prove. This is a fact that I have a hard time with. I don't want to look like the dopey gym class failure. I finished strong with a run. So here was my predicament: The advanced group was far ahead of me. The beginner group was far behind me. Hang out and look like I shortcutted? What to do? I decided to knock in another half loop on my own.

So I was alone. Meanwhile, an Ultra-Marathon was being held in the park (a marathon and a half...nutsos). Since we were running on part of the course, we got a little cheering from some of the race volunteers. I particularly enjoyed the group of Italian tourists chanting "Run! Run! Run!" as I chugged up a hill.

I was getting kind of down on myself when I heard, "Hey, are you Team in Training?" A nice girl trotted up beside me and she looked like she was struggling (a comrade in arms!). She is a mentor but her knee was giving her some trouble. Together, we ran-walked-ran the rest of the half loop as she explained to me the tragic circumstances that brought her to Team in Training. A coworker went in to get a check up for a bad cough. An X-Ray revealed he didn't have a cough but Leukemia. A few days later, she randomly received a TNT flier and took it as a sign. Sadly, after she completed her first marathon, her grandmother got diagnosed with Leukemia, as well, and now she's back. I was glad she caught up with me.

Since I was between the two groups, I was officially the last person to finish the training loops. Flashbacks to the middle school half-mile run... I wanted to explain to everyone that "No! Really! I did like 2.5 miles! I'm not a beginner, I swear! Circumstances just made me finish last!". I really have to get over that self-conscious gym class failure thing. Anyway, the season has begun!

My calf was bothering me a little bit on Sunday but I figured it was just tight. Yesterday's run with Jenn revealed it is an injury. Because I procrastinated in getting new sneakers, I've been having some pain from the lack of foot and arch support. There was some searing pain and I really had to slow down. It seems I've strained the top of my Achilles tendon. Hopefully it won't be a problem but damn it hurts. At least I finally got the incentive to buy new sneakers (and cold weather gear!):


Second TNT group training run today! And hopefully Mr. Chaloff will make an appearance.

Why I'm in it...

I just got back to New York from an amazing weekend at the old school, and thanks to three days of nonstop merriment and mirth (let's stick with the euphemisms for now), tonight's 40-minute training run was a little more difficult than it probably ought to have been. Not that we ate and drank our way through New Haven or anything.

Celeste's entry about Jenn made me want to post a little about my own source of inspiration for this whole crazy enterprise: my mom. One of the things I love about Mom is the drive with which she turns ideas into reality. When she hit forty, she decided to rekindle some teenage dreams of athletic stardom and announced she was going to train for a marathon. A first go at the Disney race turned into a second and a third go. Our novice runner became a mentor, a team captain, and finally a coach. And a triathlete. And a certified triathlon coach. And then she took her abundant gifts and started sharing them with a most remarkable group of young people she pulled together from the student body of the high school at which she teaches. They became the first high school marathon team in New England and they're going strong for the second year in a row at Providence. A collective of nine newbies is now thirty-strong. I cannot wait to join them in May.

I'm running this race for myself (the old and the new Scotts), for Celeste, for those we've lost to cancer and those who are fighting with all they've got, and most of all, I'm running for Mom. She brought out the burgeoning athlete in the lazy schlub. For that - among many other things - I'll be forever grateful.

The Chaloff gang at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.

Jamie Chals kicked some ass.

Celeste's Mission and Inspiration

I am running the New Jersey half marathon!

Depending on how I feel with the training, I may consider the full marathon. For now, though, this is what I plan to do. I am running because Scott made me I got in shape this past year and want to take it to the next level. I am also running to lose weight, make friends, and help a fantastic cause.

Though we will be training together, Scott and I will not be running the race in the same place. But we have good reasons. Just as Scott needs to run with his mom in Providence, I need to run with Jennifer Giamo in New Jersey.

Who is Jenn? Besides being super awesome, Jenn is my trainer and she changed my life. Here's how:

I reached an all-time high in my weight in the summer of 2008. I was miserable. My weight is a lifelong issue that I will probably discuss further over the course of training. In short, if it was a diet, I tried it. South Beach to Jenny Craig to diet pills (yes, I know). I have lost tremendous amounts of weight and I have gained tremendous amounts of weight. And I've always focused on the food element only. The one thing that I was never able to incorporate was fitness. This is where Jenn comes in.

In July 2008, I decided that I needed help and I was put in touch with Jenn. I remember our first day when she put me on the treadmill for ten minutes just to get a sense of my fitness level. I huffed. I wheezed. I walked. I thought I was going to die. Over the coming weeks, we slowly worked up to running the entire ten minutes. Then it was running a whole mile. Then a mile in ten minutes. Then under ten minutes. Then we took it to the park. Then we upped the mileage. On good days, we have run up to 4-5 miles (with walking intervals) and I can now run a full loop around the Central Park reservoir without stopping. I definitely whine and negotiate my way through some all of the runs but Jenn keeps me going. She gets just as if not more excited than I do when I reach a running milestone. I never thought I could be a runner. I hate running, I still do. But it makes me feel great. So I am running the half marathon with her because she got me this far and inspired me to go further (she just did the NYC marathon!).

I also have her to thank for my sick Michelle Obama arms.

Work it out, Michelle.

Stay tuned for a report on tomorrow's first training run!

From the Mailbag!

Our friend Ben writes:

I just found your guys' blog - AMAZING! As a former gym class dud who grew up to pretend to be an athlete (read: buoyancy), I wholeheartedly support you guys and will avidly await further updates on your training!!

See you guys next week in Brookline?

Ben

Thanks for your encouragement and donations!

Official Kick-off: Part 2 (Celeste Edition)

What the hell am I doing? Seriously. This was the thought that raged through my head throughout the entire 90 minute kick-off. How did I possibly think this was a good idea? What has Scott talked me into?

The energy in the room was palpable, though, and it was hard not to be swept up in the excitement and anticipation. I'm slowly warming to the idea but the denial is still with me. Being in that room made it that much more real. I'm officially signed up. I am doing this.

A long distance race is a personal battle. But we won't be doing it alone. The coaches and mentors (Stephanie, you do not know what you've gotten yourself into) and teammates will help us finish. Above all, though, the mission of TNT is incentive enough to make it to the finish. Towards the end of the kick-off, they brought up a 5-time TNT marathon runner. Her reason for running? Her six-year-old niece who battled against Leukemia and won. And then the niece spoke. Cue the tears. This beautiful, bubbly girl lost two years of her childhood to the disease and she can't wait to run a marathon herself. Okay, you got me TNT, I'm definitely gonna do this.

The first group run is this Saturday at 10am in Central Park. They repeatedly reminded us that it will be at 8:30am for the rest of the season and not to get used to the late time. Thanks, guys. If you've ever seen me before the hour of 10am, you know it's not a pretty sight. In fact, it looks a lot like this:

Hey sexaaaay.

Official Kickoff - Part 1 (S.C. Edition)

Last night was the official kick-off to Team in Training's Spring 2010 Season. And it was totally insane. And awesome.

Celeste will provide you with additional coverage but the below video pretty accurately sums up our initial feelings. It's a ten-second clip and you'd better watch till the very end.

I think you'll agree that it's all about the facial expression at the end. That, and the blue nail polish.

Celeste and I showed up to a big event space in Murray Hill where what appeared to be a couple hundred future marathoners and triathletes gathered together for a night of inspiration, celebration, and maybe a little bit of anxiety. The Team in Training staff did an incredible job of introducing administrators, coaches, captains, and getting everyone pumped up for training. The support system they provide for all athletes is really something. Each runner is assigned a mentor, a go-to coach, and a race coordinator.

Celeste and I wasted no time in getting to know our mentor, Stephanie. She may or may not have been weirded out by us being the only people taking pictures and videotaping the event. Either way, she agreed to pose for this ultra-closeup. She's training on our team as well and loyal bloggers will get to know her well, I'm sure. Over the course of the next six months, I know we'll become better runners and I can only hope we'll become better photographers.

Most importantly, Celeste and I now have our fundraising pages set up. As runners with Team in Training, we are raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, an outstanding national organization dedicated to eradicating blood cancers. As we train more, so too will we learn more about the work of the LLS and about developments in cancer research. Celeste and I need your help to raise money for this most worthy cause. My web page can be viewed here and Celeste's can be viewed here. I hope you'll consider contributing to the LLS; as I say on my page, we thank you for believing in us and for believing in a cure.

To wrap it up, here are two parting shots:

Stephanie took this picture. At this point, she wasn't that weirded out.

Celeste posing with her baller new running shirt.

At our post kick-off dinner at the diner across the street. Obvi.

Till next time,

Scott

Hot Mess - Volume 1

Each day of P.E. in middle school started off with a half-mile run around our campus. In inclement weather, we'd complete equivalent laps around the gym - let's say ten. As the teachers couldn't monitor everyone's lap status, going the full distance was on an honor code basis. One rainy day, my overweight, sasstastic eleven year-old self decided four go-arounds were more than sufficient. I strode to the benches a good five or six minutes earlier than usual. Having watched me fail to execute even a single lay-up at JV basketball tryouts the week before, Coach Roach (not kidding - that was actually his name) surely noticed something was awry when I sat down before some of the primo pre-pubescent athletes among us. Long story short: I got caught and was forced to finish the remaining six laps in front of the entire class. 

Not so fast, Roach, I thought to myself, for he had left the divider that separated the two basketball courts down. As soon as I was out of  everyone's sight, I cut across the walkway between the two courts, slashing the distance in half - if not more.  

And then came the laughter echoing through the torture chamber. 

I had failed to notice that the space divider hung a good half a foot above the floor. The entire class saw every move of my sneaker-clad cankles along the bogus shortcut.  Well played, Chaloff.  Five more laps. In full view of the class. A freshly-laundered Abercrombie athletic shirt soiled FOR NAUGHT, DAMMIT.

Blame it on the ah-ah-ah-alcohol.

I, on the other, did not do any running yesterday. Because I came home like this:

From the rooftop, shout it out: BABY, I'M READY TO GO...

So maybe it wasn't the best idea to partake in several rounds of hookah last night after an open bar...

Nevertheless, I wanted to kick off the official first week of training today with one of my favorite courses, the southern tip of Manhattan. The route takes me from Houston and FDR on the East Side down past the Staten Island Ferry, Battery Park, and up the West Side Highway back to Houston Street. It's a great seven-mile loop best enjoyed at night (and ideally with a good breeze coming off the East and Hudson Rivers), as the Williamsburg, Manhattan, and Brooklyn Bridges are all lit up. Dumbo, Liberty Island, and Jersey City provide a really beautiful backdrop. As the song goes, "these lights will inspire you." 

Interjection: about two weeks ago I got an email from Mom at 7 a.m. with the subject line "I LOVE THIS SONG." In it, in all lowercase letters, were the lyrics to the chorus of "Empire State of Mind." I concur, Mom; these streets will make you feel brand new. I love New York and I love my Mom. Who was apparently awake at 7 a.m. listening to Jay-Z.

Pre-run, I was feeling pretty good, armed with new gear (see right): a runners' watch Mom got me, a shoe wallet,

and plenty of cold-weather garb from the big sale at EMS last weekend.  As it wasn't nearly cold enough for anything more than a tee-shirt and shorts, those very exciting purchases will remain in the EMS bag on my floor, hopefully not needed until February. Though I felt a little bit of the heel pain that's been bugging me the past couple of weeks around my left arch, I felt good tonight averaging a pretty comfortable 7:35-7:40 mile. As I couldn't figure out how to work what appears to be a very simple Timex, this isn't 100% accurate. Let's hope I can learn how to use this little mutha and not have it start flipping out and flashing neon indigo around the South Street Seaport next time.

I'm really looking forward to the big Team in Training kick-off this week and to the first run with Celeste and my teammates. For now, we shower and eat. See below.

Till next time...