The long road ahead

I haven't logged onto my blog for many, many weeks; I feel a strange sense of personal guilt about my hiatus, and I didn't want to actually confirm when I last made an entry.  But upon finally taking the plunge today, I see that I haven't visited this site in almost four months.

Since running my half-marathon in March, my miles have gotten slower and much fewer in number.  The weather is often oppressively hot and humid, which doesn't help matters much, but mostly it's just hard for me to find the time and motivation to do much more.   I feel blessed that I have 30-40 minutes each morning for a run -- a claim my poor husband can't share.  I also know that, if only I could tear myself away from Ryder a little more quickly once his nanny walks in our door, I might even have 20 minutes more on the road.  Alas, I cannot.  I simply enjoy every moment I get with Ryder, and especially in the morning, when he's not yet exhausted and either crazy or cranky at the end of a long day.

Watching Le Tour and then the Olympics for the past several weeks, though, has left me yearning to train for a running race and/or get back into good cycling shape.  I feel less like a "runner" these days than simply "someone who runs."  Watching the women's Olympic marathoners collapse after crossing the finish line yesterday actually made me wistful.  It's been a very long time since I've been able to run long and hard enough to "leave it all on the road," and I miss it.

Perhaps my longing to train again is a good sign.  After all, when I asked Zdenek -- a former competitive swimmer -- whether watching the Olympic swimming events made him wish he could be back in the pool, he thought for about two seconds before replying, "Nope."  Yet, I countered, watching Le Tour does make you want to go for a bike ride, right?  He agreed.  It can only mean that he's spent too many years in the pool.  He had a finite number of laps in him, and they're spent.  The bike, on the other hand, is still relatively novel for him (and even more so for me).   When it comes to biking, we still have skills to master, times to improve, and, maybe, races to ride.

The fact that I miss running and cycling so much can only mean that, given the time and freedom once again, I will be back.  There are still a lot of miles left in me.  Perhaps I should be thankful that I'll have something to turn to when Ryder can't wait for me to get out the door.

My better half

Another long stretch has passed since I’ve had the time and interest to make a post.  Life seems to pretty much consist of the same old stuff each day, and my running has left a lot to be desired.  For the past ten weeks, I’ve been training for the NYC Half-Marathon, and most of my training runs have been below my target pace and definitely lacking energy.  To be sure, I’m thankful for the 30-60 minutes I get three or four times during the week, and for the almost two hours afforded for my long runs every Sunday (thanks entirely to my amazing husband).  But I haven’t been very proud of what I’ve been able to achieve during these runs, and most of the time I’ve finished feeling woefully unprepared and like I’m actually getting in worse and worse shape, if that’s possible.  So by the time last Saturday rolled around, I found myself feeling both nervous and hopeless on the eve of the race.  Fast forward to Sunday post-race, however, and I was basking in the glow of what actually turned out to be one of my most memorable and enjoyable weekends in a long time.

On Friday night, Zdenek and I hobnobbed with the likes of Kara Goucher, Meb Keflezighi, and Desiree Davilia at one of New York’s swankiest residential buildings.  Though I probably drank three glasses of wine too many, it was a wonderful night that served to remind me how much I love this sport and admire those who do it so well.  I also managed to corner Mary Wittenberg, head of the New York Road Runners, and promptly tell her that I would like her job (she didn’t offer it, unfortunately).  

The night before the big race, Zdenek gave me a heartfelt and much-needed pep talk.  I didn’t feel super confident when he was done, but at least I knew that my biggest fan was still there no matter what happened on Sunday morning.

And then, on Sunday morning, I ended up running what I would consider to be one of my best races.  Sure, I didn’t crack 1:40 like I was hoping, but I came awfully close.  I knocked 90 seconds off my half-marathon PR (and all four of my previous times have been within 30 seconds of each other, so this was a big step for me).  But the best part was that I took the first six miles easy (just as my pep talker advised), and I flew (as much as I can fly) for the last half.  From mile nine onwards, I passed 99% of the runners ahead of me.  Several things kept me going:

• I  thought a lot about the 14 mile treadmill training run I did back in Mexico in January -- two hours in a stifling hot gym, all alone, facing the window with the blazing sun in my eyes.  It was the most unenjoyable run I had over those ten weeks, and no run down the west side of Manhattan could feel worse than that!

• With four miles to go, I thought, "It's just one middle loop of Central Park."  With three miles, "It's just once around the bridle path from home and back."  With two miles, "Just a little more than one jaunt around the reservoir."  Thank goodness for Central Park and the thousands of runs I've done there over the years!

• I thought about Zdenek and how much support he offers, and Ryder and how cute he is (because he's not yet that supportive), and the fact that becoming a mother hasn't completely taken running out of my life as I had once feared.

And it worked.  I eeked out 7:10-7:15 minutes/mile for the last four miles, and my last mile (which included an uphill!) was my fastest of the race: 7:08!!   Most amazing of all, I felt strong and fast at the finish, and almost as if I could have cranked out another mile at that pace (fortunately, I didn’t have to find out whether that was true or not).  And as I crossed over the finish line, who was there to say, “Congratulations,” and give me a hug?  Mary Wittenberg!  Amazingly, she recognized me from Friday night among a sea of 15,000 other runners.  I felt like Kara.  Kind of.

I’ve always thought that half-marathons are 75% of the training effort and only 50% of the reward of a full marathon, and so not really worth it.  But last weekend’s experience changed that for me.  I learned that it is possible to run a hard, fast half; that a full marathon probably won’t afford you the chance to finish feeling strong and energetic, which is  a special feeling at the end of a race; and that a great race is 100% of the reward, no matter the distance.  A few days on, I’m left wondering whether I went out too slowly and perhaps didn’t leave it all on the road – after all, if I had energy to run another mile, perhaps I didn’t run hard enough.  Maybe I could have broken 1:40?  Or maybe going out any faster would have backfired in the second half of the race, as it almost always does?  It’s hard to say.  I think  I need to run another one soon to try to figure it out.

A rude awakening

While home in Canada over the Christmas break, I purchased a lottery ticket as I do, for some reason, every time I am visiting Canada. I never purchase lottery tickets here in the U.S., and I never purchased them regularly when I lived in Canada. But once or twice a year, I shell out $2 to play my chances at winning millions (tax-free). I never win. I did, however, win a different kind of lottery over the holidays: the New York Road Runners lottery for the NYC half-marathon, March 18.

Hooray?

It's now just over nine weeks until race day, and though I am running 30-40 miles per week, most of those miles are slow, and about half of them are lumped into the weekend. Proper training for a half-marathon demands speedier, longer runs mid-week, and I currently don't have much time for more than four miles before work.  Frankly, I'm not sure I have the energy, either.

In a determined effort to launch my half-marathon training this week with a speedwork session, however, I set my alarm for 5 am on Tuesday (so that, hopefully, I'd be home in time to look after Ryder while Zdenek got ready for work). But my Tuesday morning workout ended up sucking for a number of reasons:

1. I was totally exhausted. 
2. I had no time to make/drink coffee, and no time to take an, ahem, "natural break" before leaving the apartment. 
3. The Park was pitch black and kind of deserted. 
4. I couldn't run on the reservoir where the distances are marked because it was so dark, so I ran on the road with all of the other hardcore nuts who are out there at 5:20 am.  This meant that I had no idea how far/fast I was running. For all I know, I worked too hard or not hard enough (the latter is more likely). 
5. About 20 minutes in, I had to take a natural break -- and speedwork is possibly the worst thing to be doing when you have to take natural break -- but the Park's public restrooms weren't yet open and I'll be damned if I was going to go back home after I had gotten up so early. 
6. I finally headed to the reservoir to finish some of my shorter intervals. Though I could barely see the distance markers, it was far worse that I could barely see the ground, and that path is not completely even.  I was literally fumbling in the dark, and am lucky I didn't twist an ankle. 
7. I finally returned home, and then Zdenek had to look after Ryder while I took a shower, anyway, so really we didn't save much in terms of time.

I know that I will run 13.1 miles on March 18, but after Tuesday's experience, I'm not holding out hopes for any PRs.  I probably have a better chance of winning millions.

An (almost) announcement

I have a lot of difficulty finding time to make a post these days, and I've considered a few times just shutting down this blog altogether.  I actually poked around for 90 seconds on Blogger.com trying to figure out how to do this, but because it wasn't immediately obvious, I opted to make another post instead.  Might as well keep the blog active in the time it would take me to figure out how to close it down.

It's not that I don't have any free time these days -- indeed, there are usually a few minutes each night between the time that dinner has been eaten and cleaned up (8:30 pm) and when I need to think about getting ready for bed (9:00 pm).  But I have a hard time summoning any creative juices in that window.  (I'm not, of course, suggesting that this blog is at all creative, but composing an entry takes slightly more brainpower than, say, eating a bowl of ice cream while watching a previously recorded episode of "Modern Family.")

Moreover, my life really isn't that interesting these days.  Work is work.  I'm running simply to get in the miles.  I don't go anywhere other than to the swings, the Manhattan Children's Museum, or Whole Foods.  I've had a "date night" with Zdenek but once in the last 11.5 months.  I'm not reading any books, unless you count Your Child's Brain or Toddler 411 (the former actually is pretty interesting, at least to a science nerd such as myself, but the latter reads more like a horror story of what is to come in 2012 and beyond).   I really haven't accomplished anything of significance, and my days are pretty much limited to just trying to get through them.  Besides, Ryder's transition to a straw cup this weekend doesn't really seem to be that important to anyone other than Zdenek, Ryder's nanny, and me.

I do, however, have one small item to report.  I have just entered my first application for a race since 2010: the New York City Half Marathon, March 18, 2012.  I've run this race before, but the first few years I took part it was held in August, so I think I might actually enjoy a March race day.  Indeed, I only remember feeling like part of a herd of sweaty cattle moving through a too-cramped Central Park before pounding the pavement in the blistering sun down the West Side Highway, and that's not an experience I'm anxious to repeat. 

To be sure, this is an insanely popular race, and there's no guarantee that my application will even be successful.  But if it is (and I think I'll find out soon whether or not that's the case), I will have a decision to make in short order: Do I run it just for fun, and not worry about my time?  After all, I'm comfortably running 40 miles per week and finding time/energy (with lots of support from my husband) for 15-16 miles each Saturday.  Or do I actually train for this, and try, despite my usually exhausted state, to run anything approaching a PR?  Am I really willing to get up at 5 am to run intervals and hill repeats in the dark of the morning?  Would that make me happy / proud / satisfied / pleasant to be around?  Or is one more hour of rest the saner choice?  (Note that I didn't say "sleep," because I've found that the crazy mental changes of motherhood have basically rendered me incapable of sleeping past 4:30 or 5:00 am.)

At least for now, this is one decision that I can defer -- until I know whether the New York Road Runners has actually accepted my application and charged my credit card a non-refundable fee of $128.

Watch this space.  (While it's still around.)

A simple truth

Post-Ryder, I've managed to stay pretty consistent about logging at least 25 miles per week, though I usually try to hit 30 if at all possible.  Last week, I actually made it to over 40 and, feeling pretty optimistic about my chances for organizing an even tighter schedule (that would likely entail 5 am runs, but what else can I do?), I thought seriously about attempting marathon training.

And then this week happened.  I'm not sure what kind of stomach illness sidelined our household (though I suspect it's rotavirus), but I've logged four miles so far and will probably plateau there.  While I'm no longer so sick that I'm begging Zdenek to shoot me (no lie), and while the word "hot dog" overheard on television is no longer likely to send me into a hurling episode, I still have no appetite, little energy, and a cranky baby.

With our nanny also out sick, I'm trying to focus on the positives: it's a beautiful autumn so far; Central Park has never been more breathtaking; and at least my kid smiles when I'm pushing him on the swings.  But I would be lying if I didn't admit to being green with envy watching the cyclists spin by, enjoying the perfect weather.  And this past Sunday I practically teared up watching the start of the NYC marathon on tv.  

I'm not sure what the silver lining is in all of this; frankly, I don't think there is one (I've tried to convince myself that it's been healthy to take a "break" from training, etc., but that psychology has worn thin).  The truth is that I do miss much of what I used to be able to do (as I am sure Zdenek does, too). Though I'm sure that, someday, I'll be able to find time and energy again for those pursuits, in the meantime, I just can't have it all.  Sometimes that's all there is to it.

Is that Desitin you're wearing?

It’s been a long time since I’ve had the time or energy to make a simple blog post. Between loads of travel, long hours at work, longer hours with Ryder, and fewer hours running, we are simply out of time most days (and nights). Last Saturday, though, Zdenek and I celebrated six years of wedded bliss. And when I say “bliss,” I truly mean it. The biggest downs we’ve experienced together involved descending a hill in Central Park during a bike ride or morning run.

On Saturday, Ryder gave us both the best anniversary present ever: a run. We haven’t strapped the little dude into his Chariot for some time, because the last few outings were so completely unenjoyable. He’d usually last 30 minutes -- max -- before screaming that it was time to get out, at which point I’d pick up the pace to get home as quickly as possible and Zdenek would start screaming that I was running too fast. But on Saturday morning, Zdenek and I tried our luck again, and I’m glad we did. The little dude is now a slightly bigger dude who seems quite happy to sit in his Chariot for a full sixty minutes, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Central Park on a weekend morning. In fact, he was so good that we took him for another spin on Sunday, and it went just as smoothly. This weekend, we ran over 11 miles together as a family!

On Saturday evening, Zdenek and I went out for what constituted our first dinner out together -- alone -- since Ryder’s birth. After one too many cocktails, I cozied up to my husband in our booth, leaned over, and kissed his hand. And you know the best part? It didn’t even smell like Desitin.

Best anniversary present ever

Many cocktails later

Lame

It’s been an eventful few days around here. To start, I threw out my back last week. Aside from being extraordinarily uncomfortable and extremely inconvenient, this injury (likely caused by improper bending at the waist to pick up my chunky monkey of a son) brought into sharp relief the fact that I am, sadly, getting old. Back injuries?! Really? Aren’t those reserved for weight lifters and geriatrics?

After cabbing it to my doctor on Thursday to confirm that I did not, thankfully, slip a disk, I heeded the doctor’s advice to remain as active as possible, and shuffled home. Bent at an approximately 70 degree angle, it took me about 90 minutes to traverse 12 short New York City blocks, and I found myself impatient, tired, and incredulous at the fact that not a single person had stopped to ask me whether I was okay or needed help (though I was later reminded by Ryder’s nanny that, in NYC, such inquiries to total strangers are typically ill-advised). With about two blocks to go, I slipped inside a nail salon for an impromptu pedicure -- the only highlight in an otherwise painful and frustrating day.

I seem to be on the mend now, and was able to eek out a very slow three miles yesterday morning, and an equally slow four miles this morning. The humidity in New York seems to be abating, and this is the perfect running (shuffle?) weather. Unfortunately, on the same day that I injured my back, my poor Zdenek confirmed that he has suffered his second broken bone in both 2011 and his life. It seems that his quick dirt-biking jaunt with my seven year-old niece on our recent trip home did some serious damage when he was thrown to the pavement, and Zdenek must now contend with a fractured elbow for the next six weeks. On Thursday morning we sat together, relatively lame and unable to throw Ryder around in the style to which he’s now accustomed (in fact, I could barely pick the kid up until yesterday), and feeling like useless old horses waiting to be put out of their misery. And much to Zdenek’s chagrin, he can’t even fit his torn-up toes into his cycling shoes without experiencing severe pain. But at least he can run.

And so just as Zdenek and I are once again ready to feel the ground move beneath our feet, the ground actually did move beneath my feet today. Around 2 pm, high up in my 31st floor office, I experienced a “boom” and then a few, relatively big shakes of my office building. I was forced to evacuate via the stairs, every muscle in my lower back resonating on each step of the 31 flights that I had to descend.

It was later confirmed that an earthquake struck the East Coast today, and, to be honest, it was a pretty cool sensation. It was, however, something I’m in no hurry to experience again. Zdenek and I are getting old and lame. We need to be careful with every bend we make and every step we take. I don’t need any ground tremors complicating matters further.

Much to remember

Back in early January, when I wrote a group-wide email message to my colleagues announcing Ryder’s birth, one of my coworkers responded with a line that has stuck with me and that I remember almost every day: You will find that, once you have kids, time passes much more quickly.

During those early weeks of sleepless nights and pure exhaustion, time couldn’t pass quickly enough, and I wanted to roll my eyes at every well-meaning stranger who would tell me to “enjoy it because they grow up so fast.” Truth be told, Ryder really could have skipped those first 10-12 weeks altogether and I don’t think I would have minded much. But now that he’s a bit older and becoming exponentially more fun on an almost daily basis, I am starting to notice that time does indeed seem to be passing much too quickly. Over the last week, this realization was compounded by several anniversaries of various events in my life and those of whom I love most:

* Sixty-some-odd years ago this past week, my mother came into the world. Although Zdenek likes to tell me that I am the world’s greatest mom, I know that that title rightfully belongs to the extraordinary woman who raised me, and I miss her immensely across the miles.

* Thirty years ago this past week, Zdenek’s mother and father defected from their home in then-communist Czechoslovakia. It goes without saying that that bold move altered the course of history (or at least my own and that of Ryder, who would otherwise still be dark matter floating in the universe).

* Eight years ago this past week, Zdenek and I were introduced by a mutual friend at a bar on Toronto's Queen Street. Believe me when I say that I went home that night thinking that he might be “the one.”

* One year ago this past week, Zdenek and I flew to Canada to visit both of our parents and announce that there would soon be a new member in our family.

* Also one year ago this past week, I was still enjoying long bike rides and 10+ mile runs in Central Park on a weekly basis. (This past weekend, with Zdenek’s parents in town, I actually managed to cycle on both Saturday and Sunday -- the first time I’ve been on my little red Giant since March!) I remember racing around the Park feeling fantastic and finding it difficult to believe that there was actually another little person inside of me. Who would have thought that it would be easier to run 10 miles with him in than out?

Sometimes my friends without children ask whether I miss my “old life” or whether I think about having more kids. Of course I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that it would be nice to stay up until midnight knowing that I could sleep in until 10 am if I so desired, that I’d love to be able to leave the house after 7 pm to enjoy a stroll with Zdenek on a beautiful summer evening, or that I don’t stare wistfully at my bike and wonder when I’ll ever have the opportunity to go for a three hour ride again.

But I have to remember how quickly time has already passed, and that it certainly is not slowing down. It won’t be too much longer before I’ll look back and reminisce about the summer of 2011, when Ryder was just a little package of delicious baby and Zdenek and I were able to take him for stroller rides in Central Park and push him on the swings at Riverside Park. The next time I’m at mile 25 in a marathon and wondering, once again, what possessed me to subject myself to that kind of torture, I’m sure I’ll wish that time would pass more quickly. For now, I’ll try to remember to savor every moment.

New obsessions

We’re now a few days into July, which marks the beginning of both summer and le Tour. Alas, my days of being able to stay up until late, intensely focused on that day’s Stage, are behind me: while I’ve always been a pretty early-to-bed kind of girl, my attention span these days is markedly shorter than it ever was. It seems that if I am not actually doing something with Ryder (i.e. holding, hugging, kissing, changing, feeding, cleaning, etc.), then I am always thinking about him or how to care for him. After a few minutes of cycling action on tv (and yes, we’re in high def this year), I find myself inexplicably drawn to the plethora of baby-related books and manuals on my coffee table. Recently we started Ryder on solids (avocados, bananas, oatmeal, and watermelon are all huge hits so far -- clearly he’s my boy!), and so while I’ve just finished learning everything I need to know about baby sleep patterns and developmental milestones, I’m suddenly having to learn all about making and freezing homemade baby food and just how much iron my little guy actually needs in a day.

Ryder clearly rules our roost. I’m sure (or at least I hope!) that it’s a first-time parent thing, but too often I catch Zdenek and me having a conversation at the dinner table that might go something like this:

Parent 1: Do you think his second nap was long enough today?
Parent 2: Maybe, but then he also had that short catnap in the morning, don’t forget.
Parent 1: Right. Maybe we shouldn’t have taken him out in the stroller at
that time...
Parent 2: Perhaps. But how many hours of sleep did he get
yesterday?
Parent 1: Let me check the log.

And so on.

In fact, this past weekend, I managed to detach for a minute and listen to Zdenek and me, and it was obvious that we are both (a) obsessed, and (b) completely boring.

It’s therefore nice to know that we have at least a few other things in our lives that are completely unrelated to Ryder. For one, I’m still running 4-6 times each week (Ryder could be related to this if he so desired, but he’s made his dislike for the running stroller pretty apparent), and though the miles are short, they are always sweet. Zdenek has recently been getting back into the habit of crawling out of bed at 5:30 am to take his bike for a spin in Central Park; I’m happy he’s doing this, because running is a bit tough for him in the sticky summertime. And when we were watching le Tour a couple of nights ago, we did manage to have a conversation that had nothing at all to do with Ryder -- namely, we discussed whether Garmin-Cervelo had anyone worthy in the GC and debated whether Team Radioshack is full of dopers (I say “yes”). (Let’s forget, for the moment, that Ryder is actually named after a member of Team Garmin…)

I’m really, really looking forward to the day that Ryder is a bit older and he can run and cycle with us. To be sure, there are many times that I want to stop time altogether and savor every morsel of his adorable six-month self, and when it makes me want to cry to think how quickly he’s already growing up. But once he’s able to share the fun of running and cycling with us, maybe Zdenek and I will be able to spend a little less time talking about Ryder and more time engaged with him in the activities we love.

There will come a day when the only Ryder-related log will be the one tracking his daily miles. I’m sure of it.

Done for another day

The lack of updates on this blog in my post-baby world is indicative of the fact that I don't seem to have much time for anything these days between Ryder, Zdenek, work, and home. My runs are getting shorter and shorter as I find myself busier and increasingly stretched (and I don't mean the ability to touch my toes). A "long" run these days is typically six miles, though on occasion I've been thrilled to fit in about eight. Mid-week runs average about four miles. I went from 40-mile-weeks during pregnancy (and even the odd 40-mile-week when I had my mom available for round-the-clock babysitting), to 20-30 mile-weeks today (though it's on the low end).

On Saturday, my long run consisted of pushing Ryder in the Chariot alongside Zdenek, and having to cut things short at 5.5 miles because Ryder, frankly, had had enough. No worries -- it was hot and sticky out, and I figured I'd get a longer run in on Sunday morning. But after one too many glasses of wine on Saturday night, I found myself exhausted, mildly hungover, and very sleep-deprived on Sunday morning. Running was the last thing I wanted to do that day, so I opted instead for a delicious breakfast, a more delicious lunch, and a heavy, carb-filled pasta dinner.

And all of this got me thinking, Maybe my running days are slowly winding down. I'm in a perpetual state of fatigue and always feeling crunched for time. Spending a few more hours relaxing with my family or just lazing around with the Sunday Times is far more enjoyable, no? Do I have the energy, excitement, and time for anything more than the occasional three miles these days? As I crawled into bed last night, I had almost resigned myself to the label of "former runner," at least until life slows down a bit (and goodness knows it will probably be years before that happens).

But perhaps it was the fully carbo-loaded feeling in my belly that encouraged me, or perhaps it was just the anxiousness of facing another busy week ahead on this Monday morning. Whatever the source of my motivation, today I forced myself to hand Ryder over to his nanny, tie up my laces, and try for a few miles. A few turned into three, then four -- and when I realized I was about to run 5.5, I decided to just complete the whole Central Park loop. I returned home to find the boy still napping, and so quickly ran an ice-cold shower before he had time to wake up. And as I was heading to rinse off, my nanny said, "Don't you feel good now, knowing you're all done for the day?"

Hmph. It was only a few hours into my morning, and I was "done for the day." No matter what the rest of the day may bring at work or at home, I can put a big check-box in my calendar. She was right. I did feel good. Maybe I'll try to keep up this running thing a while longer.

More fun than a run

Summer is back with a vengeance in New York City, and, as if almost overnight, my head has become foggier and my runs have become slower. Cycling would definitely be le sport du jour these days, but, despite careful observation, I never really did learn how to fix a flat. I'm therefore a bit hesitant to head out in the Park on my own, lest I end up on East 90th with nothing but cycling clips on my feet to get me home in time to feed a crying baby (unfortunately, my day is still divided into 2.5-3 hour increments).

And so my little red Giant sits upon her wall mount, longing to be ridden again some time soon. Perhaps when Ryder hits the six month mark we'll hook him up in the Chariot (are babies supposed to wear helmets in those things?) to see whether he lives up to his namesake's affinity for fast moving bikes. Until then, I'm afraid that I'll have to play it safe and stick to 40-60 minute runs, close to home and with proper shoes on my feet.

But this Memorial Day weekend, the weather has been awfully hot and sticky, and our boy wants to seize the day -- every day -- beginning around 6 am. I'm struggling with fatigue, a pounding headache, and, truthfully, a desire to just drink a lot of beer. A run through soupy, 30-degree weather with only a few hours of sleep under my belt is not nearly as appetizing as the mild buzz earned after sitting peacefully in the shade with a brewsky in hand. And so that's basically what I've done this weekend: wheats, ales, lagers, and, today, some very strong Belgian brews. I know that more runs and less beer probably would have served me better over the long haul, but last summer, I sat salivating while Zdenek drank 10% Belgian ales or casually enjoyed a second bottle of Pilsner. Besides, I think they say that hops is good for your breast milk. Ryder certainly doesn't seem to mind.

Warm fuzzies

Apparently, what goes around, comes around, and that extends to more than just my loops in Central Park.

Last week, I ran past two girls on the west side of the Park. Approaching them from behind, I immediately noticed both the Lulu Lemon logos on their gear (I'm always complaining to Zdenek that we should have bought more of that stock!) and their very, very sculpted legs. While the runner on the right was slightly superior in terms of rippling muscles and obvious athleticism, they both looked pretty darn good to me. As I caught up to them, I asked, "Are you girls runners or cyclists?" "Runners," they replied. I told them that they both had pretty fine legs, with calf definition that would make a cyclist jealous. They were pleasantly surprised by the early morning compliment, and giggled a bit as I passed them and headed on my way.

On Monday morning, after a very lazy Sunday spent battling an oncoming cold and forgoing any run at all, I decided to fit in a quick five miles. The extra day of rest certainly didn't hurt me, but I still felt sub-optimal on little sleep and with lumps in the back of my throat. Nevertheless, I tried to maintain both pace and form as I rounded the bottom of the Park and climbed Cat Hill, because every run I have time for these days has to count for something. Just as I had finished cresting the top, a cyclist rode past me and steered herself a bit closer to my running path. And as she cruised by, the very fit, 50-something year old lady on the bike yelled to me, "Beautiful Runner!"

Beautiful Runner?! Was she talking about me? I looked around, and realized that, in fact, I was the only runner within earshot. I was so surprised that I didn't even have a chance to yell back my thanks for this very unexpected compliment.

I've come a long way since my first days of long-distance running, when I used to bounce so high and pound the pavement so hard that my knees ached, or when I slouched forward, shoulders sloping toward the ground, and looked like I might collapse at any moment. Today, I am a bit stronger, smoother, and upright. I try to pay close attention to my form whenever I can, and Zdenek has lately told me, "You look perfect right now!"

But to be told that I am a "beautiful runner" by a complete stranger is the sweetest compliment I've received in a long time. Despite the bags under my eyes, the disheveled morning hair-do, and the sweat dripping down my forehead, someone thought I looked beautiful. While running. It doesn't get any better than that.

The family that runs together...

Yesterday after dinner, Zdenek and I settled in to watch (and fast forward) through the previously broadcast Boston Marathon. Boston is always one of the year's highlights, and yesterday's race proved to be an especially exciting one. (I was, however, a bit perturbed to see that the conditions were conducive to a blistering fast, record-setting pace, and thus couldn't have been more different from the day I ran Beantown. Maybe someday I'll have a return showing to try my luck again; given the new qualifying standards and procedures, though, I doubt it.)

Watching Ryan Hall give his post-race interview, I was, as always, awestruck by his positive attitude and accomplishments in the sport. And then I began daydreaming about how happy it would make me if Ryder becomes a serious runner (let alone a world-class one). When compared with other sports (e.g. swimming, hockey, baseball, cycling), running is convenient, cheap, and will likely keep you in good shape for the rest of your life. Indeed, I can point to a lot of fat ex-swimmers and ex-hockey players, but very few fat ex-competitive runners. This is due, I think, to the simple fact that running can be maintained without teams, coaches, and fancy facilities: once a runner, always a runner. And while I never want to be that parent, and Ryder will certainly have to find his own passions in life, I hope that I can nudge him in the running direction just a little. He might, after all, stand a chance at being semi-competitive: great endurance runners tend to be short (check), and have strong hearts (hopefully, check).

Happily, we're on our way to setting him on that course. Zdenek was cleared for running last week, and we enjoyed two "family runs" in Central Park over the weekend. It's great to have my husband back at my side, and also nice to have someone share the load when pushing Ryder in the Chariot. I look forward to the day when Ryder can cycle his little bike beside me on my morning run, and then, someday, run beside me (until he leaves me in the dust altogether). And even if he's never world-class, I hope that he, like his mom and dad, is able to find joy and good health in the simple ritual of putting one foot in front of the other.

A head start

I was delighted to read this in the NY Times this morning, again confirming that running and pregnancy go hand-in-hand, and hopefully Ryder will reap the benefits for many years to come.

Timing

The update: Zdenek is still dealing with broken metatarsal bones and has been unable to run, but today he heads to the doctor to (hopefully) get the go-ahead to resume normal physical activity. In the meantime, he's managed to fit in a couple of bike rides, but that's clearly insufficient to keep him both happy and as fit as he'd like. Our cumulative sleep deprivation is starting to wear on both of us, and, though Ryder is obviously the love of our lives, I can admit that it was kind of nice last night when he went to bed at 7 pm, and we enjoyed an "adults only" evening (consisting of leftovers for dinner and the BBC news) before heading to bed. (Of course, even though Ryder slept well, neither of us managed to do the same, as I think we've actually forgotten how to sleep more than a couple of hours at a stretch. I can't believe it, but it's true.)

In other "I can't believe it" news, a funny thing happened a couple of weekends ago when I headed out for an eight mile run in the Park. Zdenek took Ryder out in the stroller to enjoy the sunny weather, and we agreed to meet back at home for lunch in about an hour. I managed to beat them home by about 5 minutes, and when Zdenek came home, he told me that he thought had seen me running in the Park, but wasn't convinced it was me. Why? Because I was too fast. That's right. You read that correctly: Too fast. Apparently, he saw a girl who looked like me, was dressed like me, and ran mostly like me, except that she was much faster than he was accustomed to seeing.

Turns out, it was me, and indeed, I am faster these days. I haven't run over 8.5 miles in four or five months, but I am managing to post my fastest paces ever, even with only bits and pieces of sleep to fuel me. I think it's due to having (a) limited time to fit in the miles, and so every mile must be run quickly, and (b) 10 fewer pounds on my frame. I really feel that, if I began serious training, I might be able to crack 3:20 in a marathon right now. The sad irony is that just as I'm posting good times, I have no time to put them to good use.

Perhaps once our schedules even out a bit more, I'll try for a 10K race sometime soon. I've never raced that distance before and so I wouldn't even know what to expect, but it can't hurt to try something new. And besides, 2011 will need to be the year of running quickly, because parenting is the only endurance event on my calendar this year.

Sunny Saturday

This morning, I was forced to choose between taking Ryder out in the jogging stroller or foregoing a run altogether. Zdenek is working (on a Saturday!) so I am alone all day with no one to watch the boy if I want to go out.

Although Ryder seems to like the jogging stroller just fine (he can't really move an inch when he's in his bunting), I've been trying to get him used to taking naps in his crib rather than being rocked to sleep by the motion of a stroller. Over the past week or so, though, napping seems to have suddenly "clicked" in his little brain -- I simply put him down when he's sleepy and he drifts off to dreamland unassisted (the occasional nuk replacement is required, but that's okay). So now that I feel more confident that he can nap in his crib, I figured I might as well take him for a spin in the Park this morning under the beautiful weekend sunshine. And since I haven't been running in over a week, I was definitely itching to get out there.

I am delighted to report that I ran the full, hilly loop of Central Park in an 8:33 minute/mile pace, pushing an extra ~40 pounds! Two guys who passed me early on shouted, "Awesome job! Do you have room for two more in there?" And later, as I passed a different pair of male runners while climbing Harlem Hill, I heard one say to the other, "Now I don't feel so tough -- being passed by a woman pushing a stroller uphill." I remember saying the same thing to myself when I'd get passed by moms with jogging strollers (sometimes with TWO kids inside).

I am the first to admit that I miss my solo, carefree days of running, and it makes me a little sad and nervous to think that it might be a long time before I have the chance to properly train for another marathon. But these days, I'll take what I can get. And though I'm still not the speediest mom out there, it's nice to know that I can still get in a decent run with my new little buddy.

Mobile

"Mobile" seems to be the word of the day around here. We can use it in many different ways:

* Last week was a great week to be MOBILE. I actually hit 40 miles, thanks to some awesome babysitting help from Baba.

* Sadly, Baba is no longer around. Earlier this week, we were MOBILE by flying back to NYC. To say that I was overwhelmed / nervous / petrified about finally being left entirely on my own with the babe would be an understatement.

* On Monday evening -- his birthday, no less -- Zdenek decided to run a Ryder-related errand at the hospital administration office. On the way there, he managed to step wrong and break two bones in his foot, landing himself a trip to the ER (good thing it was only down the hallway). My husband is now completely imMOBILE for the next six weeks. (Once again, though, Zdenek has proven himself to be a champ. Not one utterance of a complaint or whine has crossed his lips, despite the fact that he's been instructed to not walk more than 15 city blocks per day for the next month and a half. I don't know how he does it, but my husband has the most outstanding attitude of anyone I know.)

* Yesterday, leaving my imMOBILE husband at home with Ryder (which made me feel very badly), I ran 8 minute miles in the Park. Perhaps the higher altitude training + a few days off from running gave me an extra boost (because it definitely wasn't due to being well-rested!).

* I just managed to put Ryder down for a nap all by himself (i.e. no holding, rocking, shushing, etc.), and I think the magic touch was the bassinet MOBILE. As soon as I put it over his little head, he was mesmerized. And soon, asleep. Ah, small victories...

New measures of endurance

It's funny what constitutes a "marathon effort" these days. Yesterday, I completed my longest run in three months -- 8.7 miles. It was -17 degrees Celsius with the wind chill, but I kept a good clip and felt well. I could have run further, but, alas, I operate in increments of two hours these days. If someone would have told me a year ago that anything over eight miles would constitute a "long" run, I would have laughed (or cried). But so it goes.

And last night, Ryder slept for the longest stretch ever between feedings. Maybe it had something to do with my run? I need to aim for ten miles this week...

Hello from the Great White North

Ryder and I have been in Calgary since Wednesday and, though we miss Zdenek a (metric) tonne, it's nice to be back in my original hometown: I had a great haircut and highlights on Friday at a high-end salon that still cost me much less than in New York City. And yesterday at the mall, I was suprised to find that my frozen yogurt was free, because the customer ahead of me (whom I never even saw) decided to "pay it forward" and buy the next customer's snack. For a moment I thought there might be a hidden camera -- these things just don't happen in Manhattan!

Blog posts these days obviously are few and far between. In the few moments I have between feedings and diaper changes, I'm usually trying to sneak in a shower or a run, or grab something to eat myself. Running is going well, and I feel fantastic when I'm doing it, but I wish I had time to fit in more than 20 miles each week (and thank goodness for Baba, or I wouldn't even have the opportunity for that!).

Fortunately, I've found a baby jogger / bike trailer / cross-country ski carrier that Ryder can use ASAP, and it has the added bonus of being made by a company headquartered in Calgary! Zdenek and I have already settled on our colour (red -- to match both of our bikes), and he's going to place the order this week. By the time Ryder and I are back in the Big Apple, Central Park will be our oyster (or at least that's what I'm hoping). It's going to be tough pushing around an extra 35+ pounds on my runs, but I'm willing to do it for the sake of getting outdoors with my little guy and fitting in the upper body strength training that I've been neglecting of late.

Running around

The verb "run" has taken on a new meaning in the last few weeks: most of the "running" I'm doing these days is within the confines of my apartment or around the Upper West Side, and involves a lot of back-and-forth between changing pads, bassinets, and nursing pillows. While this post must be kept short and sweet (like my +1), I thought it best to update it now while I at least have a few moments to spare (which are also short and sweet these days).

I went for the last 4.5 mile run of my pregnancy on December 31 and, on January 1, it became clear that it was "show time." One day later, on January 2, Zdenek and I welcomed Ryder into the world. He performed well during the event, and weighed in at a perfect seven pounds. (And I guess it turns out that all that extra mileage didn't mean a girl, after all.)

Mommy recovered very quickly and headed back out for power walks within the first week. Twelve days after giving birth, I headed out for my first post-baby run. All things considered, it felt pretty good (though I was somewhat disappointed to discover that any weight lost around my belly seems to have migrated to my chest), and I was pleasantly surpised to find myself running just over 8 minutes/mile on the first go. Since then, I've run several more times (when Baba is around to watch the little guy) and can comfortably run 6 or 7 miles in 8:30-8:40 minutes/mile. To run further, I'll either have to wait until Ryder can go longer between feedings or until I can run a whole lot faster! For now, I'm satisfied with my quick rebound to running health, and I'm already looking forward to my next seven miler on Saturday.

After Baba leaves, Daddy and Mommy will have to run individually again so that someone can stay home with Ryder. It goes without saying that I will definitely miss both of the training partners who have accompanied me on almost every run and ride over the past nine months.