A 5K a Day

Remember how I ran a 5K on Monday?

Yeah, well, I did it again last night. In 34 minutes and 47 seconds. Over three minutes faster than the night before. No big thing. No big deal. Whatever, I do what I want.

When Christine, the head coach, yelled out my time as I crossed the finish, I blurted "Holy Shit". Then I almost simultaneously vomited and peed my pants because I stopped running immediately instead of slowing down gradually. Dumb. My body was like HEY NOW. I was so surprised by that time. The only other time check I heard had me at an absolutely solid 11-minute mile but I felt that I was slowing down over the course of the race. As opposed to Monday's run, there are tons of gradual hills in the lower loop and we were going around it almost twice. I think it's safe to say that "hills" is up there with "winter" and "Gosselins" on the list of things I don't like.

I have to admit, I ran smart and it worked. I discussed with Jenn that I should actually take it easy on the few flat/downhill stretches on the lower loop and really push myself on the hills. This was a lifesaver and made me look pretty awesome when people would pass me on the downhill and I'd bound past them on the hill as they started to struggle.

I decided to start with the 11-12 minute mile group (after fighting an intense urge to go with the sub-9ers because Guy in a Dodgers Hat was taking off with them...swoon). People took off. I noticed that people are finding it difficult to pace themselves. It's so hard to fight the temptation to keep up with the person in front of you instead of listening to your body. So I really shut everything off around me and paid attention to my own comfort. I didn't speak to anyone and I don't think I looked further than ten feet in front of me the entire time. I was getting in the proverbial Zone.

What to think about when you're running alone?

Usually for me it's, "I'm going to die." But I diversified. I may have solved the meaning of life around mile 2.5.

After about half a mile, I was already negotiating with myself. Well, maybe I'll take a walking interval when I come back around to Bethesda fountain. Maybe I'll grab some water from my bag. Maybe I'll just do one loop. I got up the hill to Bethesda and considered. My throat was dry. But I went straight past. As I passed the "finish line" to begin my second loop, I started using that as my motivation. Every stride was putting me further from the start of the loop and closer to the end. I hit the glorious "blank mind" once or twice on that second loop and boy does time go faster when that happens. I talked urged myself through the hills and imagined an invisible gear shift inside of me.

In conclusion, I murdered that 5K because goddamn it was cold and I really just wanted to go home.

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.

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.