A tiring day

Today was a perfect day for a marathon, whether one was running it or cheering it on!

After watching the start of the race from the comfort of our couch, Zdenek, Peter, and I zipped across town to 1st Avenue and 69th Street, where we arrived in time to see the elite women and men sprint past at 16 miles. One hot chocolate later, we were lined up at the 25 mile mark in Central Park -- the ideal place to see the eventual winners breaking from the rest of the pack. Then it was time to meet up with Caitlin to yell, clap, and pump our fists for two straight hours. Caitlin and I, screaming and cheering in all our blond glory, encouraged at least a few men to pick up the pace. (Peter opted to cheer for anyone wearing a "Timex" or "PowerBar" shirt, while Zdenek moved as far away as possible to save both his hearing and his dignity.) While I didn't get to run 26.2 today, I did receive several propositions to accompany a few men on their last mile and a half, one tossed Twix bar, and an acknowledging wink from a smiling Frenchman.

By 2 pm we were cold, hoarse, and suffering optical illusions after watching thousands of runners go by. So just as though we'd actually run the marathon, we rewarded ourselves with pizza and beer at the end of it all.

Caitlin and I took a break from screaming to snap this photo

Cheese-y memories

Is there anything more satisfying than digging in to a greasy, cheese-y, thin crust slice of New York pizza on a sunny, warm, autumn afternoon, after running 16.5 miles for no reason whatsoever than the want to be outdoors on a perfect morning? I'm not certain that there is.

To be sure, I exhausted myself over the last 48 hours. We rode a respectable 40+ miles in sunny, but somewhat chilly, weather on Saturday morning; my long run this morning could have gone even longer if only I'd brought another gel to power me through an extra few miles; and, peppered in between, we indulged in two decadent Italian feasts on the Upper West Side and in the West Village.

I didn't need to run 16+ miles today, especially after yesterday's ride, but I'm glad that I did. It's on weekends like this that I really miss the demands of hard workouts dictated by a training plan from which I dare not deviate. I miss the zone that's only entered after 13 or 14 miles of running; I miss the sore, tight legs that remind me of a job well done; I miss the sense of total exhaustion. I miss saying "goodbye" to Zdenek after running together for two loops, knowing that I'm on my own for the next one but that, when I meet him back at home, the coffee will be brewed and the pancake batter ready to hit the hot pan the moment I turn on the shower. I miss eating a breakfast (with generous use of Nutella) three times the size of that enjoyed on any other weekday, only to be complaining two hours later that I'm hungry. I miss heading out for a mid-afternoon slice of pizza.

On Friday, I received notice in the mail that my 2009 Boston Marathon entry has been automatically rolled over to 2010. I'm not sure if I'll return to Beantown in 2010, but it is tempting. I salivate just thinking of all the guilt-free pizza I could enjoy this winter.