THE HILLS ARE ALIVE: A Haiku Collection

Tonight in the park

We did hill work up "Cat Hill."

It was really cold.

I put on cute gear

And cab'd it with Lindsay there.

We were kind of late.

The group had just left

So I haul'd ass to catch up.

So much for warm-up!

I plan'd to not race

But when we started uphill

I met a new friend.

He was really fast.

And I am competitive.

So I pick'd it up.

Coach Steve said "Faster!"

So I went really quickly,

Trying to pass him.

At the end, I did!

(Just barely, so I can't brag.)

A good workout, team!

The best part was when

Lindsay and I got dinner

At Neil's Coffee Shop.

Veggie burger, soup,

And a tall glass of water

Tasted really good.

The subway was cold.

Now I am home on the couch.

"Idol" starts tonight!

THAT. WAS. AWESOME.

It's 10:15 a.m. I'm back home and I friggin' demolished that race. Having been off my feet since Sunday's nightmare-cum-triumph, my body clearly wanted to get out there and hit the road. I met up with TnT this morning at 7:30 following an epic cab ride uptown chauffeured by a Bengali former soccer player who sent me off to the starting line with encouragement. Thanks, man.

Having been off a race course since last spring's Revlon Entertainment Industry Fund Walk/Run 5K (and I'm totally not kidding), I was admittedly a little antsy about race day protocol and getting everything in order. A few thousand people were out there in the freezing cold (literally) and the chaos at the baggage check area was more fun than nerve-wracking. Unable to spot co-worker Lindsay or this blog's very own Celeste, I made my way to the TnT hang-out spot where I ran into Janneke, one of the girls who usually keeps pace for me. Relieved to have someone there for speed consistency, I listened to Coach Christine's pep talk and got some pre-race advice from Coach Steve who changed everything today. In the cab I planned a scheme where I'd start out around a 7:30 pace for the first mile, ease towards a 7:00 pace around the third mile, get through Central Park's notorious "Cat Hill," and finally go balls-deep for the final mile. He told me to throw all of that out the window.

When I told Steve the game plan, he furrowed his brow and said something to the effect of, "Come on, you can do better than that." He suggested going out at a 7:10 and building to a sub-7:00 after the first mile. I doubted my ability to pull this one off, but his belief in my pacing encouraged me to give the race a harder try than I had planned. Janneke, Carey (the other girl I usually run with), and I began together at the starting line following a less-than-spectacular rendition of the national anthem. In the second corral behind the 6-minute milers, we hit the road at a comfortable pace. What I didn't know was how congested the course would be the beginning. I lost both of them about a quarter-mile in and went off on my own. At the first mile marker, I saw that I had met Steve's goal for me of a 7:10 first mile and started amping up the energy.

By the second and third mile markers, I was feeling good and saw on the race clocks that I was actually racing sub-7:00 miles. That realization gave me an absurd burst of adrenaline and I knew that given the short race course, I could really use it to kick the final mile's ass. Dressed a little too warmly, I started pulling down on my Under Armor a little bit before Cat Hill, slowed down a bit, and then shot up at the end where I was really excited to see all of our coaches screaming and cheering. I threw all of my shit into the final half mile and, breathing heavily, sailed through the finish line and saw the clock: 33:40. Give or take a 10-15 second delay at the starting line, that's an average 6:42 mile.

UPDATE: Final time was 33:23 / average pace: 6:40.

FUCK. YES. Tell that to the fatty in high school.

I was ecstatic and went to retrieve my bag with a huge, goofy grin plastered on my face, feeling nearly invincible. When I spotted my pack, I overheard a bunch of runners talking about the race. Said one speed demon to another, "Yeah, it was alright. You know, a solid 28 minutes. Felt okay." Said the other to the first, "It's all good, man."

Um...I suppose there's always room for improvement?

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.

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)!