Siesta time

This week has been a bit of a bummer weather-wise. I had not one, but two runs in the pouring rain, and Tuesday’s bike ride was wet, windy, and hard. But this morning the clouds and rain cleared away, leaving behind only sunny skies and a beautiful temperature. It took a little longer than usual for Zdenek and me to get out of bed and out the door (our accumulated sleep deficit is really starting to take its toll), but I’m glad we rallied. Today’s ride was perfect in every way: fast, fun, and rewarding. Although it’s gradually becoming uncomfortable for me to assume the most aerodynamic position on my bike, I can still manage, and even at five months my body is cooperating enough to allow me to ride long and hard.

It’s now been 18 consecutive runs or rides for me (my last “rest day” was the day we flew back from our Canadian vacation), so I think I’m long overdue for a little sun and siesta. Good thing, since Zdenek and I are off to Spain! The temperatures will be blistering hot, but I’m counting on long afternoon snoozes by the beach and pool to get me through. We like to refer to this vacation as our “last hurrah” -- meaning the last real vacation we’ll have in this life as we know it. And while we've been known to spend portions of supposedly “relaxing” vacations by subjecting ourselves to torturous hikes or itineraries, this time, I think the circumstances will force us to take it easy. (I did pack my running shoes, though -- just in case.)

On my own

This morning Zdenek pulled the classic pm/am alarm mix-up, and though it meant we got an extra hour of much-needed rest, it also meant that cycling was out of the question and I was flying solo for the morning. By the time I finished my cup of coffee and caught up on the morning’s email, however, it was raining hard and steady outside of my window. Unperturbed, I changed into my running clothes and hoped that the downpour might taper off a bit before I reached the Park -- I certainly wasn’t going to allow a little water to ruin my morning fun.

Unfortunately, the rain never really let up, and though it sometimes turned to a drizzle, it just as often came down in hard sheets. I plodded along, squishing water between my socks and shoes and occasionally slowing to wring out my shirt. But beyond those minor inconveniences, it was one of the most peaceful and relaxing runs I can remember in some time. The Park was virtually deserted: I passed less than ten other runners on my six mile loop, and for the first 15 minutes of my run, I don’t think I saw another soul. I ran in silence, sometimes avoiding puddles and sometimes splashing right through them, looking out onto the rare sight of a clear road ahead.

I find it amusing (and somewhat pathetic) that so many tough New Yorkers would let a little rain scare them away from a morning run, but I’m also thankful for their lack of determination. This morning I was grateful to have over 800 acres almost entirely to myself, and happy to enjoy a moment of solitude in a city where such escapes are hard to come by.

Don't trash it

Since moving into our new apartment almost one month ago, Zdenek and I have been on a bit of a home furnishing frenzy. In fact, we’ve made so many big-ticket purchases in the last while that my bank has put a freeze on my credit card not once, but twice, assuming fraudulent activity. But Zdenek and I have been living like students for years -- despite the fact that our student days are but a distant memory -- and so unfortunately everything we’ve purchased thus far has really been a first-time acquisition after five years of dorm-like living: bedroom furniture (which allowed us to throw away the plastic storage boxes we’ve been using in place of drawers, and to place our mattress on a bed, rather than the floor); a kitchen table (that is quite a big bigger and definitely nicer than the poker-table-sized piece of junk off which we’ve been dining); a flat-screen TV (replacing our beloved 1995 Sony Trinitron); and a wall unit (providing a place for our new TV and storage space to boot). Though we still have a few more purchases to make (and let’s not even think about where the +1 is supposed to go), the apartment is beginning to approach something resembling the dwelling of two thirty-somethings.

Because most of our previous furniture was (a) IKEA, (b) plastic or pine, and (c) terribly ugly, we’ve been throwing most of it away rather than attempting to make a few bucks by selling it to real students. The other night, though, after we made the decision to buy a new dining set, I figured I might as well advertise the IKEA kitchen cart that has served as extra counter space for the past five years. I put together a nice photo, wrote a few lines of text, and posted the ad on Craiglist. Within 20 minutes, I had received three inquiries from people wishing to pick it that same evening, and at 10 pm, no later than three hours after posting the ad, my kitchen cart was wheeled away by two young girls who trekked up from Gramercy to collect it.

Even more surprisingly, up until a day ago, I received a total of 20 or more emails about this kitchen cart. I finally decided to delete the ad altogether; it was so far buried in the Craiglist classifieds that I couldn’t even find it, so I'm not sure how everyone else was managing. (Apparently, kitchen carts are a hot commodity in Manhattan apartments, and if I should ever be in need of work, I think I know just the line of business to enter.) This whole ordeal made me laugh because we paid $99 for that thing five years ago, and although it was still in good condition, it wasn’t really anything special. But when I was on the phone with the girl who ended up buying it, she enthusiastically described it to her roommate as “AWESOME.” I guess it’s true what they say: one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

That proverb applies these days not only to furniture, but to my running, too. While my cycling remains solid (it seems less affected by the extra being I’m toting around), my running has definitely been slower-going for the past four months. I’m managing to keep up with my mileage (and, combined with my biking, haven’t had or wanted a rest day in two weeks), but I’m simply not able to make my paces of a few months ago: my comfortable 8-8:15 min/mile run has morphed into an 8:45-9:00 min/mile jog (and is even slower when the weather is particularly scorching). And yet, I am amazed that I am passing plenty of men and women on every loop. Speed is definitely relative.

I may not be as fast as I would like right now (though hopefully I will be at some point again in the future), but at least I’m moving and am still doing so at a respectable pace. I realize that, just as I was smart enough to not trash my kitchen cart, I shouldn’t be so quick to trash my running. It is still, after all, AWESOME.

Relief

Last week, during our vacation in Western Canada, I was able to put in a marathon training effort. I ran a cumulative total of 45 miles over seven days, a sum that ranks up with some of my longest training weeks at the peak of my marathon plans, and despite the fact that there is no race in my future. Remarkably, though, it felt wonderful, liberating, and mostly easy. After trudging through three months of sticky, searing hot weather in the Big Apple, the cool mountain air and sunny, crisp mornings were a welcome relief.

I was shocked to find that, outside of New York City and even at a much higher altitude, my pace per mile dropped a solid minute. Although I had to confirm it several times on mapmyrun.com to truly believe it, it gave me some hope that perhaps I haven’t permanently lost whatever speed I may once have had. Indeed, last night after work Zdenek and I ran almost five miles in 31 degree heat, and my pace was once again tortoise-like. I hadn’t fully recovered when we headed out for a ride this morning, and I spent the first two laps drafting off Zdenek 95% of the time. Yep, it helps to have a strong training partner who can carry the load.

I’ve always gravitated towards spring marathons because, frankly, I don’t see how anyone can train properly through the summer months. (I did run the NYC marathon in November 2008, but I cut my preparation from 17 weeks to five.) Looking ahead, I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to run a race this coming spring, though I’d sure love to try. As several people now know, Zdenek and I will be +1 come 2011, and this will impact my ability to train to a degree that I can’t quite yet comprehend. Fortunately, with eight marathons and several more halfs under my belt, I feel like I can finally enjoy running for running’s sake, rather than needing to prove anything to myself.

Perhaps this newfound contentment will relieve any pressure to meet a particular time goal when I do eventually pick my next race in 2011 (if anything, the number “9” in front of per-mile pace has started to feel strangely normal). Or perhaps I'll switch tactics altogether and combine my passions into one by training for my first triathlon. But as for the +1, he/she already has already completed one marathon -- a feat that took me almost 27 years to tackle. It turns out that, as in cycling, running is definitely easier when someone else carries you along.