26.2

On Sunday, I ran through 29 of Chicago’s finest neighborhoods as part of my first marathon.

The boy and I entered the marathon lottery back in February, when we were much more naïve and when October seemed eons away. We had watched our good friend Rajveer cross the finish line at the Istanbul marathon and we were feeling the second-hand high from his great achievement. A few weeks later, we got the e-mails telling us congratulations, we had been selected. That’s when shit got real.

Fast forward to June and it was time to begin the official 16-week training program. I went with a coaching plan from my Nike running app. The schedule consisted of 4-5 runs a week and incorporated speed workouts, cross-training and of course, the long runs on the weekend. For the most part I stuck to the program pretty closely – the only time I fell off the bandwagon was during the two-week taper period when I was moving to Denver and everything in my life was literally a mess. Let's just say I tapered pretty hard.

There were certainly some memorable runs, most of them the long ones. I remember completing my 14-miler along the Chicago lakefront on a chilly afternoon and feeling exhilarated afterwards that I’d run that far, the farthest I’d ever gone to that point. I remember attempting to do my 18-miler in Whitehall, Michigan as the morning temperatures slowly crept up into the low-90’s. I ended up walking a third of that run in absolute misery. I remember getting up at four in the morning to run my 20 miles before going in to work and then boarding a flight to Iceland that evening. I remember running two 11-mile loops in Reykjavik, battling wind and rain, and when I completed them, telling myself that if I could run twenty two miles in Reykjavik, then I sure as hell could run twenty six in Chicago.

Before I knew it, October 11^th had arrived. I was a bundle of nerves the night before but I woke up feeling well rested and ready for the task at hand (or on foot, rather). I met up with my friend Patrick in our corral and focused on thinking positive thoughts, like what a beautiful day it was and how lucky I was to be healthy enough to be running a marathon. Then the horn sounded, and we were off!

The first half of the marathon flew by. Patrick and I ran most of it together with the 4:10 pace group as we went up through the North side neighborhoods where we passed by friendly faces who spurred us on. The energy of the crowds was absolutely infectious and made us want to run fast – at one point we had managed to get ahead of the pacers and I remember turning and asking him, “this probably isn’t a good sign, right?” 

Speaking of signs, we saw some really fun ones along the course:

“You’re running better than Donald Trump!”

“Where are you guys all going?”

“All this work…just for one banana?”

“This seemed like a better idea 4 months ago”

“Just don’t poop yourself.”

The real race started around mile 13, at which point the novelty and exhilaration of it all had worn off and all there was left to do was to hunker down and put some serious pavement behind me. I don’t recall too much between miles 13 to 20. I knew that this was when my body would naturally begin to protest and that I needed to keep going and to save the real pity party for the last few miles. I do remember letting myself feel a fleeting moment of joy at mile 18 – (“Hey, 18’s pretty close to the finish!”) – before realizing I was only about 2/3 of the way through, a depressing thought. After that I forced myself not to dwell about being even close to done until I’d at least reached mile 22, the furthest I’d run in my training program.

Well, mile 22 turned out to be the worst. The absolute worst. The boy and I both agreed on this in retrospect. There were almost no crowds in this stretch (we’d been spoiled earlier by the festivities in Chinatown, one of the best spots for spectator cheering), it was starting to get really hot, and 22 miles is far enough to be very painful, but not far enough where the excitement of finishing begins to take over. While I never did hit the dreaded “wall”, if I had, it would’ve been at 22.

I got through the remaining miles at around an 11:00 mile pace – not my fastest, but I was just happy that I didn’t stop and walk. In the last .2 miles, at the last turn, a lot of runners around me started going really fast out of excitement, some of them bursting into all-out sprints. I was excited too when I saw the finish line and I remember trying to pick it up – but I just couldn’t. My body was like, hell no lady; you are not going any faster than this. I crossed the finish line four hours and nineteen minutes after I’d started. Words cannot describe how good it felt.

Finishing a marathon and doing the mile-ish walk to the reunite area was definitely one of the strangest experiences of my life. My legs were like planks, stiff and strange. I could not bend at the knee properly and I felt like my feet were glued to the ground. I’d reluctantly pick one foot up, stiffly swing it forward, put my weight on it, and repeat on the other side. It looked totally ridiculous but then again, everyone else around me was doing the same pain shuffle. All of us had ran 26.2 miles and apparently forgotten how to walk. And don’t even get me started on stairs.

I "walked" away with some soreness and minor chafing but nothing else that a hot meal, a cold beer and a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. It’s been 2 days since I crossed the finish line and my feet and legs are feeling almost completely back to normal. 

Running a marathon was the most physically challenging thing I’ve ever done in my life. I feel happy with my time and proud that I saw it through without walking or injury. Like all new big life experiences, it’s something that I have learned from and that I will treasure forever – another piece of the puzzle that makes me, me. I am grateful for all the support - the good lucks, the pats on the back, the people who showed up on race day and cheered us on. And a shout out especially for the boy's mama, who drove in from Michigan that weekend and was the best spectator ever, in my unbiased opinion. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’m not sure if I will run another marathon anytime soon. Probably not until the motivation comes to me or there’s a good reason/cause involved. I do feel happy to be able to call myself a marathoner, though, and I fully intend to keep on running.

Glasgow: first impressions

In no particular order:

Goodbye, Rose's money. Everything -  cabs, meals, services, clothing/misc goods - seems to be about 30-40% on average more expensive here than in the States. Factor that in with the travel plans I am making and 2014 is already looking to be a bleak financial year for my savings account. But the unexpected kicker atop all of this? My corporate apartment is located about half a block from the Glaswegian equivalent of the Magnificent Mile. In the span of five minutes I can walk to Topshop, LUSH, the Body Shop, and a plethora of other stores that like to party hard with my credit card. I keep glancing at prices and thinking "Oh, that's quite reasonable" before realizing it's all in pounds, not USD. Also, my UK laptop is trying to convince me to spellcheck realizing with "realising".

I am surrounded by stunning architecture. It is a wide-angle-lens-owner's wet dream. 

Wet with rain, that is. So far it has rained about 50% of the time I've been outside. The threat of precipitation seems to loom above the other 50% of the time. There were a few glorious hours of sunshine and blue sky this morning which left me jonesing for more. Overall I'm pleased with the weather here and prefer it much over to the Chiberian tundra whence I came. 

Everything is smaller. Most noticeably, the portions, and second-most-noticeably, the people. (Though I suppose it would make little sense if that didn't hold true.) The cars, the homes, the street lanes all seem a fraction of what I'm used to in the States - especially since I lived in Texas for the better part of two years, where all of the above are bigger even by US standards. 

Also, Glasgow in general feels much, much smaller than Chicago - in the span of a day and a half I think I already have formed a somewhat good idea of the city and can orient myself fairly quickly using local landmarks. The boy and I also went on a run today to explore a bit; you can see that we covered quite a bit of the city ground with 5 miles.

People are extremely kind and I keep suspecting they want money from me when they really don't. Examples include the immigrations officer at the airport, waiters & waitresses at restaurants, and random Glaswegians I ask for directions from on the street. They are all incredibly helpful and polite. Even the people who do want money from me - cab drivers, beggars - are extremely cordial. I'm feelin' the love, Glasgow!

Glaswegians aren't workout fanatics...at least not in public. On my run today I saw a grand total of 3 other runners. In Chicago that number would easily have been 30. I also don't see people wearing sneakers, yoga pants, North Face, and other athletic/lounge wear which are pretty much ubiquitous in the Midwest. People here seem to dress for appearances rather than comfort, which I can certainly get behind. The boy, on the other hand...

That's it for now. I have a few more photos to share but unfortunately the internet in my unit isn't the best for uploading. I'm hoping to get my hands on a 3G dongle to fix that issue. More soon!

cooking class!

last week, the boy and i got a really neat chance to take a cooking lesson with friends at the chopping block up in lincoln square, chicago. taking a cooking class is one of those things i've always had on my bucket list but have never summoned up the energy to pursue, so when i got the chance to attend one, i leapt up and rubbed my tummy and was all like oh hells to the yes!

the gist: spend an evening making a themed meal. ours was "couples cooking: night in barcelona." we made garlic bread, grilled veggies, seafood paella, and chocolate flan with the help of professional chefs and instructors. all of it was delicious and none of it was difficult (thanks to many things being pre-cut, pre-measured and/or pre-prepared).

slightly-embarrassing confession: i like to pretend like i'm a cook show host. i imagine there are audience members out there with ears perked as i generously divulge the secrets of how to most effectively chop an onion. of course all of my kitchen ware at home is worn and dull and wonky and from target and usually my cat manages to sit on whatever i've made numerous times before it is ready so it's not a very realistic cooking show. this kitchen, however, had top-notch stuff and put me one step closer towards my imagined career as ruosi ray, cooking show host.

making some flavorful flan. that pot costs $380. it was so heavy i could barely lift it. 

hungry, armed and dangerous!

my favorite thing to make and to eat was definitely the veggie salad, which surprised me because usually i ignore nutritious things and make a beeline for the carbs. one of the coolest things we did was roast peppers over an open flame and let them get real black and smokey. then we steamed them in ziplock bags and combined them with grilled eggplant and onions (pictured above). throw in some parsley, olive oil, sherry wine vinaigrette, and plenty of s+p and you get a delicious, delectable, and healthy dish. it was amazing - all the vegetables tasted so different than how i was used to them because i'd never cooked them this way before.

here is the finished meal. ta-da!

perhaps the best part was that we didn't have to do any cooking unpleasantries such as grocery shopping, annoying peeling, or best of all, cleaning up afterwards - we were definitely spoiled little piggies. the whole meal took about three hours to make, the majority of which was for baking the flan and paella. we were kept busy with making salad and bread when that was happening. the evening was well-paced and it was especially satisfying to eat our creation at the end. while this particular meal is not something i would normally make on a weeknight, it is very do-able for an evening on the weekend.

i was surprised by how inspired i've felt to branch out in my cooking and try new recipes since taking this class. i would definitely do this again and would recommend it to anyone who feels like they're going through a culinary slump. (and then invite me over so i can eat ALL the things!)

1337 feet

girly-girl warning in effect!

These are not my feet. These are stock photo people feet.

today during our lunch hour, a friend/co-worker and i skipped the usual routine and went in to get pedicures done instead! we'd originally intended to get our little piggies nice and prepped for mexico this past weekend, but had to book a later date due to scheduling conflicts. (so yea, we went to mexico with nasty hobbitses feet.) well, that later date rolled around to today, and at noon we found ourselves excitedly hopping in the car and driving off towards the spa, debating which toenail polish color we wanted.

this was my first time getting any of my body '-cured' in any way and i was a skeptical, nervous, and excited all at once. we got to sit in massage chairs with our feet in running for the better part of an hour as the nail technicians trimmed, lotioned, and massaged us everywhere from the knee down. i wasn't expecting to enjoy the experience as much as i did - it was thoroughly relaxing and my trepidations about someone touching my feet (uh, ew) quickly faded into comfort and delight (ahhhhhh, i could get used to this). i chose a bright coral-y red color for the toenail colors and have been happily staring at and wiggling my piggies all day, excited for spring and summer and new bright fresh beginnings.

i think it's important to take time and pamper yourself a bit, especially to break up the monotony of a week or to get rid of the dull winter blues (not to mention duller winter skin!). while i definitely don't think i will make a habit out of getting pedicures, i could see myself going back for special occasions. who knew that something as simple as happy feet could make for such a happy girl?

power grid

"damnit, i'm in first/last place again!"

this evening i played a new board game called power grid with four of my coworkers. well, "played" might be a strong word. i think we spent probably 90% of our time figuring out the game/evaluating decisions/goofing off/stuffing ourselves with thai food and the remaining 10% actually making moves on the board. and we only wound up passing through phase 1 of the game. and took two and a half hours to get there...to an outside observer, we probably looked like we were playing in slooooowwww mootttttioooonnnnnn.

yet despite the mollasses-like pace,  i still highly enjoyed learning to play power grid. let me tell ya - that game is intense. it's reminiscent of a cracked-out hybrid of settlers (get resources!), monopoly (fight over a map for desirable locations!), dominion (buy the most souped-up cards!), and risk (fuck everyone else over!). as such, there is a whole lot of math, planning, and mental optimization that has to go into each turn. the analytical, economically-minded half of my brain got a real treat. i also loved that the more you were winning the game, the more of a handicap you had/vice versa - it really made the game more of a toss-up and it made being in last place actually a viable strategy for victory, something i haven't seen in other games.

there are a couple of drawbacks: it takes a couple of hours to onboard (no pun intended) a first-time player, and a full game even with experienced players can take something like 3 to 4 hours to complete. allegedly.

power grid is a game not for the weak of heart, nor for the short of patience. i loved learning it, although now i want to play for real! i'm not sure when the next time i'll have three hours to spend playing a board game will be. i guess there's always retirement.