The departure

I miss your pretty red polish. In your place, I'm left with only a very sad, pathetic, preemie.

You served me well.

But then you really screwed things up for me in the marathon.

Goodbye, fourth toenail.

Sanity found

This past week has been a crazy one, to say the least. It's been full of late nights, early mornings, and long and stressful days in between. Although hard work can sometimes be energizing and exciting, as the week wore on and I missed several opportunities to run and cycle, I realized that I really do need a solid 30 to 40 minutes of blood-pumping, sweat-inducing, borderline-painful activity at least every other day to feel like myself. It was therefore with much delight that I woke up this morning, looking forward to my first run since Monday. I didn't care that I could have used another hour of sleep. I wasn't bothered by the fact that it was pouring rain outside. I ignored my almost-completely-removed-from-my-foot-toenail (I give it five more days of attachment to this body).

By the time I actually got out the door, the rain had tapered to a drizzly mist. I ran seven miles at a not-so-bad pace. It felt comfortably hard, and entirely therapeutic. But the best thing about my run this morning was that the hundreds of other Manhattanites, with whom I normally share the road, stayed away. Apparently the rain scared them off, which was entirely their loss and my gain. I saw only a handful of dedicated runners out this morning, and barely noticed them, anyway. By the time I rounded the North woods around mile five, it was like running through my own, private rainforest. It was utterly peaceful.

Over the last few months, I've run with my iPod less and less. This wasn't a conscious decision; I simply started leaving it at home more frequently. Although I'm not one of these holier-than-thou runners who thinks that running with music is simply an abomination of the sport, and although I'm still not quite at the point where I could forgo music on a 2+ hour long run, I have come to appreciate running to the tune of my own steps and the beat of my own breath.

I realize, on weeks like this, that running always seems to bring me back. This morning was the perfect start to the weekend. Thank you, Manhattanites, for being so afraid of a little rain.

Around the world in 72 hours

I was supposed to be far, far away this weekend, celebrating with my girlfriends in the BC Mountains. Instead, I’ve been right at home, enjoying the long weekend with my husband in Manhattan. It hasn’t been all that bad. Friday was a long day at work, and tomorrow promises more of the same, but the rest of the weekend has been pretty void of any heavy lifting. So instead, Zdenek and I made our own vacation here on this island (and a few miles outside of it). Some of the places we visited:

Italy: On Friday night, after getting off from work rather late, we hit the Mediterranean at our favorite restaurant and wine bar on the UWS. After one pitcher of Sangria, one bottle of wine, some prosciutto, cheese, and grilled shrimp, I was happy enough to pretend I was in Italy and almost too drunk to notice the difference.

Out-of-state and back again: On Saturday, we decided to take a little bike vacation. We cycled 75 km out to Piermont and back, through the Palisades and along the Hudson. It was tough going after a hard week of cycling and running, especially considering the marathon was only two weeks ago and that this week was absolutely exhausting work-wise. The one mile, 7% grade climb at the end of the Palisades may have been nothing compared to Saturday’s Giro stage, but I could hardly tell the difference. In Piermont I was rewarded with a fruit smoothie and a bit of rest. 23 miles later back in our apartment, I was rewarded with wobbly legs, a sore butt, and a huge sense of accomplishment.

I enjoyed my smoothie on this Piermont street

Spain: Saturday night took us down to Greenwich Village, where we were fortunate to stumble upon one of the most delicious and inviting tapas bars in the city, Las Ramblas. It was crowded but lively, the food was scrumptious, and the drinks were well deserved. We finished off the evening with homemade cake at Amy’s Bread. Best pink frosting ever.

Detox spa: Sunday consisted of lots of walking and hydration. We had fish and vegetables for dinner. Italy and Spain in 48 hours can tire a person out.

The beach (sort of): After a very hard but very fast run this morning in the Park (if I’m not going to run frequently this summer, I need to make every opportunity worth my while), and after a leisurely and delicious breakfast (once again courtesy of Amy), we spent this afternoon eating salami and cheese, Greek salad, and berries along the Riverside Park Hudson waterfront. It was almost as good as a beach vacation.

Only 5 minutes from our front door!

All in all, things could have been worse. And I learned that if I can’t make it to the vacation, I can always make the vacation come to me.

It's comfortable in the middle

We spend a lot of our time celebrating success. We admire those who work hard to reach the top of their respective games, we strive to do the same, and we tend to spend a lot of time lamenting the fact that we haven't achieved enough. Or at least I do. In spite of my attempts on this blog to put things in perspective and focus on finding silver linings, I am definitely a "glass is half empty" kind of girl. Living in the Big Apple, it's hard to not constantly compare myself to others who are better educated, more successful, further ahead in their careers, more ambitious, etc. The list goes on.

I have one friend who has worked for the same company since graduation. He is smart, capable, and very good at his job. But he's always resistant to taking on more responsibility at work and, indeed, has made every attempt to actively avoid any managerial responsibilities. I've always thought this was amusing, and somewhat strange, too. Who wouldn't want recognition at work and to take on everything the job has to offer?

I am neither a mover nor a shaker. I don't run a company, I don't negotiate multi-billion dollar transactions, and I'm definitely not -- to borrow a title coined by Michael Lewis in "Liar's Poker" -- a BSD. Nevertheless, over the last few years, my status on the totem pole has risen ever-so-slightly, and the realm of my responsibility has grown just a tad. This is good because it is, after all, my goal. Right?

But with responsibility comes, well, responsibility. As it happens, my small area of responsibility is up against a pretty tight deadline, which happens to fall over this weekend. It is thus with disappointment, but perhaps simple resignation, that I find myself forced to cancel my weekend trip to Canada that I have had planned since October. I probably won't be tied to my desk in New York all weekend, and I hope to take advantage of the good weather to cycle a lot, enjoy my dinners al fresco, and generally relax, but still, I'd rather be elsewhere.

And so, I give a shout-out to all the middle-of-the-packers who aim to finish, not win; to those who do a good job at their jobs, but don't worry that they might not be doing enough; and to anyone who doesn't necessarily wish for more because they're "just fine, thank you very much!"

Three cheers for mediocrity!

Backs and backsides

Although I complained to Zdenek yesterday that my butt hurt after our first cycle of the season (and to which, to my annoyance, he replied that he felt fine), I didn't really think twice about heading out again this morning. I have an out-of-town trip planned for Friday, so I need to squeeze in as many cycling days as possible between now and Thursday. All seemed to be going okay this morning until we actually got on our bikes, at which point our tushes felt like tender, bruised patches of flesh being punched over and over again by hard, unforgiving saddles. (Turns out that Zdenek's butt actually was sore!) I was certain that I would have to do the whole ride standing up, but, fortunately, it numbed completely by the time we reached the Park.

Three workouts in 24 hours has taken a bit of a toll on my body, and with Zdenek pushing the pace today, it was a pretty rough 40 minutes for me. Towards the end of our second loop, I complained to him that we seem only to ever have one pace, and that we don't know the pleasure of riding leisurely. He reminded me of one weekend ride last summer when we were about 20 miles away from home, heading through the Palisades in New Jersey, when my nagging knee injury (caused by my then ill-fitted bike) finally forced me stop pedaling. My valiant husband, eager to help me but even more desperate to get home, cycled beside me, hand on my back, pushing me uphill for several miles until I could pedal again. I'm not sure that's how I would define a "leisurely" ride, but it is comforting to know that my husband always has my back.

I'm meant to be flying to Canada this weekend to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my good friend, Heather. I am blessed with a very tight group of girlfriends -- the five of us have been together since high school, but several of us have friendships extending back even further than that. We're throwing a stagette for the bride-to-be at Jessica's cabin in BC this coming weekend. The girls and I haven't spent quality time together since goodness-knows-when; the last time we were all in the same place for a night was in 1999, a few weeks before I moved to England. This would be a 10 year reunion of sorts, and I'd be loathe to miss it. (As you can see from the photo, whenever we get together, there's always some unexpected fun.) The girls have done a lot of planning and work for this weekend; all I have to do is fly in. I count myself blessed to have such organized, generous, and supportive friends.

Unfortunately, this week at work is shaping up to be no less hectic than the last. I'm desperately hoping that I will, in fact, still be able to make the trip come Friday, and that I'm not forced to cancel last-minute because of the deadlines with which I'm dealing. I am lucky, however, to work with a talented and motivated group of individuals, several of whom are now scrambling to enable me with some sort of remote international broadband access for this weekend so that I may have my cake and eat it, too.

I'm not sure how this week will shape up when all is said and done, but it seems that every time I stop to consider it, there are people all around me -- family, friends, coworkers -- who have my back. My butt, however, must fend for itself.

As I like it

There is something quite liberating about not having to follow a schedule.

I’m not, of course, suggesting for even one minute that I don’t like schedules, that I don’t find them to be comforting, and that I’d rather fly by the seat of my pants. Case in point: for those who might think I’m exaggerating my tendency to overanalyze and revert to spreadsheets whenever possible, my sister just had a laugh at me this morning after I emailed her a suggested itinerary for our proposed trip to Atlantic Canada this summer (more on this later). I supplemented my Google Maps route with a spreadsheet that mapped each day, location, driving mileage, estimated commute time, and highlights.

It’s been one week since the marathon, and though I’m advised to take two full weeks off of running, I find that next to impossible. First, I sit at a desk all day and can use the exercise, and second, I really enjoy running! And when I’m not running specified times or distances, it can feel like a different activity altogether. I did, however, try to take it easy last week, putting in only 3.5 miles one day and seven over the weekend.

This morning, however, was the first official cycle of the season. (We have been out once before, on the Most Horrible Day ever during which I missed Bono in the Park, but that was an afternoon, and therefore somewhat leisurely, ride.) Zdenek and I were out at 6 am this morning and, strangely, had the Park almost entirely to ourselves. There must have been a cycling event yesterday that made all the cyclists stay home and rest today. Fine by me! It was lovely to get in 18 miles, mostly just the two of us, with an opportunity to practice holding my handlebars with only my left hand (yes, I’m a newbie in many respects) without worrying about colliding with another biker.

This evening, I managed to get off work at a decent hour and decided to enjoy the still-cool spring weather by getting in a five mile run. I ran fast without even trying to, and it actually felt good! I would never, ever be able to do an impromptu second workout on a scheduled training day, because the implications for throwing off my whole program would be huge. But today was all mine, and I took full advantage.

I’m very excited about the upcoming months that I plan to fill with as much running and cycling as possible. A few weeks ago I was debating whether to train for my first triathlon this summer. I wisely decided to forgo a schedule this time around, though, and to ride and run as I please!

Hot SAWS!

My oldest and dearest friend, Laura, is visiting NYC for the first time this week.

Laura touched down on Tuesday night and is here through Sunday. The timing of her visit isn't perfect because it's a rather stressful and busy time for me at work, but, since these things can't be planned in advance, we're trying to make the best of it. Laura, in typical fashion for her, is being incredibly understanding and a great sport about things. She's not trying to squeeze in every little piece of Manhattan in five short days, but rather seems happy to see what she can while she's here, confident that she'll be back someday to see more. Thinking about my previous post on my tendency to stress over possible missed opportunities, it occurs to me that Laura's laid back approach may be a bit healthier!

Laura and I, over a bottle and a half of wine, to-die-for gnocchi, and some decadent chocolate cake, had a very good time getting caught up with everything that's going on in our lives. We have known each other since we were eight years old and have seen each other through countless bad boyfriends and even worse haircuts. But these days, we don’t get to spend enough quality time together. Our conversation last night inevitably included discussion of how our respective jobs are going, whether we are happy and fulfilled, and where we see ourselves in the future. But we also talked about the fact that Laura has found a new knack for, of all things, woodworking. She's built an entire workshop in her basement, and lately has been fashioning decorative Christmas trees out of all sorts of materials and interesting cuts of wood. She may not be making a living off of this (yet), but she's discovered an unusual hobby and a talent that she's only starting to cultivate.

Laura, in honour of your laid-back coolness, your optimism and good attitude, and your willingness to follow your heart wherever it may lead you -- including to a membership in the Southern Alberta Woodworkers Society (otherwise known as SAWS) -- this post is dedicated to you!

The proof

We made it to the start in time for a warm-up

My running man

What does it take, Zdenek? Now he knows!

"My toe hurts!!"

Hooray!

Predict, test, assess, repeat

Until a few years ago, I was a research scientist. My career wasn't very long, and it certainly wasn't very distinguished. I don't remember many of the details of what I "researched," but I know it involved a lot of stinky (and potentially deadly) chemicals and a lot of failed experiments. But such is science. The scientific method teaches that there are four steps through which scientists endeavor to construct an accurate representation of the world. Every experiment provides an opportunity to test a hypothesis and then reject or modify it. Eventually, through this iterative process, one comes to better understand the world and perhaps even develop a theory to represent it.

Yesterday I completed my seventh marathon, which, combined with the four half marathons and one 30K race I've run, comprise a nice set of data to analyze and develop a theory about my running: I run my best times when I don't go out too quickly (no surprise there). The data recorded in my running logs throughout my training period is a pretty accurate predictor of what I can accomplish come race day (whether I choose to believe it or not), and I could probably tell you within five seconds how fast I can run a half or full marathon. I prefer hills in the early part of my race. Lunges may not make me much faster or give me better endurance, but they certainly increase the amount of pounding my legs can bear and, in turn, decrease my recovery time. Anatomically, I appear to be pretty well-suited to running, if you omit my toes, which seem to take a beating in every race. Sometimes, running can be a lot more fun when I'm not worried about my time.

So there it is. Five years, twelve races, one unifying theory.

For the record, I did not run a PB. I did run my fastest ever half marathon, but unfortunately that doesn't count! I went out too aggressively and paid for it dearly when confronted by strong winds, big hills, and a blistered toe in the latter half of the race. Just when I was nearing total exhaustion around 20 miles (after fighting the hills and wind for the previous six miles), and just when I was digging deep to try to finish strong, I felt something dislodge under the top of my shoe. My toenail, perhaps? I limped/struggled/winced the last 5 km, desperately trying to not alter my gait too much, and though my toe didn't turn out to be as bloody as I was anticipating (I had Zdenek remove my shoe at the end because [a] I couldn't bend that far, and [b] I couldn't bear to look), that toenail is now on its way out for good. Fortunately, that's the worst of my injuries today. I was a little stiff getting out of bed this morning but am otherwise 100%, which would be a good thing, except now it makes me wonder if I worked hard enough. Perhaps I could've left more on the road…

To finish on a positive note, though (which I don't feel I did yesterday), here are the best things about Sunday's race:

1. Zdenek ran a great half marathon and thoroughly enjoyed himself. This makes me extremely happy, because if he had not enjoyed it (or worse, got injured), I doubt he'd be eager to run again. But he was all smiles after the race, and is even considering running the full marathon in NYC this fall.

2. I made it to the start on time, with plenty of time to spare. I managed to get in a 1 km (or thereabouts) warm-up, and I wasn't trying to squeeze into my corral or catch up with my wave or take a last minute pee as I have at almost every other race I've run. When the gun has gone off in other races, I have been in various places, several of which did not include the start line:

• Cincinnati - squatting behind a bush
• Boston - one mile away
• Toronto Waterfront - standing in line at the port-a-potty
• NYC - frantically weaving through 20,000 people, trying desperately to find my corral which had already closed several minutes ago

3. I didn't suffer any painful cuts or chafing. The half-stick of BodyGlide I applied beforehand must have helped.

4. In spite of my legs being in screaming, horrific, unbearable-and-never-before-experienced pain after the race, after 10 minutes of wobbly, stiff "walking" to the shuttle bus, the pain miraculously dissipated almost entirely. Even better, the shuttle bus was only about 500 m away.

5. I don't have to worry about running another race for some time. But I already miss running enough to know that I'll probably be back out there tomorrow. After all, theories can always stand to be tested and revised.

(will post pictures soon)

Is this a sign?

Got up this morning at 5:45. Got to Laguardia (otherwise known as America's worst airport) at 7 am. Been sitting here for 4.5 hours because our incoming flight was diverted to Newark (second worst airport). Fingers crossed that we get to Toronto today to put the last 17 weeks to the test. (Sent from Zdenek' blackberry)

Advice worth taking

I'm flying out for the marathon tomorrow morning. Race day is Sunday, and so far the weather forecast looks mixed. The temperature sounds about right for running (10 degrees Celsius with partly cloudy skies), but they're calling for strong winds. Having run in similar conditions in the Virginia Beach Shamrock Marathon in 2008, I can attest that this is not really ideal for energy conversation. On top of it all, my throat is still a bit swollen and sore, and I'm having a rather stressful day at work today. So it was somewhat amusing when my coworker, Jim, upon my telling him that I was having a crazy day and really needed to find a way to relax, gave me this advice: "You should go for a run!"

'nuf said.

In homage to honey

For the last few days, I've had a lump in my throat. Not a lump caused by fear or dread of the marathon (four more sleeps!) -- although it wouldn't be surprising if that were the cause -- but rather a lump caused by, what I suspect to be, some sort of viral or bacterial infection. My right lymph node is swollen and it's freaking me out. I simply cannot get sick at this point in the game, because I need to be in 100% good health when I cross the starting line on Sunday morning.

To stave off a full-blown infection, I've turned to raw honey. (There definitely seems to be an emerging theme this week of sweet, sticky substances.) I became a honey convert a few years ago, mostly because my husband's grandfather is a beekeeper in the Czech Republic and his entire family is hooked on the healing promises of honey. (Even better than honey is propilus (see below), but unfortunately I don't have any on hand.) Although I have some honey almost every day, this morning I consumed an unusually large amount -- melted in my tea, drizzled over my yogurt, and straight up. On my way into work, I stopped off at Fairway (the best or worst place on the Upper West Side, depending on your point of view) and purchased one pound of buckwheat honey. (It's always best to buy the darkest honey you can find, and buckwheat honey, in particular, is especially potent.) I intend to eat several tablespoons of it throughout the day.

I'm hoping that these extra doses of deliciousness will help to keep me healthy over the next few days. At the very least, it can be seen as a pure form of carbo loading.

In homage to honey, I've excerpted below just a few pieces of information concerning its truly amazing properties (taken from the website of The World's Healthiest Foods at http://whfoods.org/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=96#healthbenefits). Enjoy!

How Honey is Made
The fascinating process of making honey begins when the bees feast on flowers, collecting the flower nectar in their mouths. This nectar then mixes with special enzymes in the bees' saliva, an alchemical process that turns it into honey. The bees carry the honey back to the hive where they deposit it into the cells of the hive's walls. The fluttering of their wings provides the necessary ventilation to reduce the moisture's content making it ready for consumption.

Raw Honey - An Anti-Bacterial, Anti-Viral, Anti-Fungal Substance

The health benefits of honey - like all foods - depend on the quality of the honey. But in this case, the situation is even more extreme, because the pollen that collects on the bees' legs as they move from plant to plant is only as healthful and as diverse as those plants. In addition, the processing of honey often removes many of the phytonutrients found in raw honey as it exists in the hive. Raw honey, for example, contains small amounts of the same resins found in propolis. Propolis, sometimes called "bee glue," is actually a complex mixture of resins and other substances that honeybees use to seal the hive and make it safe from bacteria and other micro-organisms...Other phytonutrients found both in honey and propolis have been shown to possess cancer-preventing and anti-tumor properties...[but] when raw honey is extensively processed and heated, the benefits of these phytonutrients are largely eliminated.

Buckwheat Honey Instead of Cough Medicine

In a study [from the Penn State College of Medicine] involving 105 children aged 2-18 years with upper respiratory tract infections of 7 days or less and night-time coughing, a single night-time dose of buckwheat honey was an effective alternative treatment for symptomatic relief of nocturnal cough and sleep difficulty, compared to a single dose of dextromethorphan (DM).

Other Health Benefits of Honey

• Different varietals of honey possess a large amount of friendly bacteria (6 species of lactobacilli and 4 species of bifidobacteria), which may explain many of the "mysterious therapeutic properties of honey."
• Honey may promote better blood sugar control. Proper fueling of the liver is central to optimal glucose metabolism during sleep and exercise. Honey is the ideal liver fuel because it contains a nearly 1:1 ratio of fructose to glucose.
• In a year-long animal study comparing the effects of sucrose, honey and a low glycemic index (GI) sugar-free diet, rats on the honey-based diet showed: reduced weight gain and percentage of body fat, decreased anxiety, better spatial recognition memory, improved HDL cholesterol (15-20% higher than rats fed sugar or sucrose diets), improved blood sugar levels (HA1c), and reduced oxidative damage.
• The wound healing properties of honey may, however, be its most promising medicinal quality. Honey has been used topically as an antiseptic therapeutic agent for the treatment of ulcers, burns and wounds for centuries. One study in India compared the wound healing effects of honey to a conventional treatment (silver sulfadiazene) in 104 first-degree burn patients. After one week of treatment, 91 percent of honey treated burns were infection free compared with only 7 percent receiving the conventional treatment. Finally, a greater percentage of patients' burns were healed more readily in the honey treated group. Another study examined the wound healing benefits of honey applied topically to patients following Caesarean section and hysterectomy. Compared to the group receiving the standard solution of iodine and alcohol, the honey treated group was infection free in fewer days, healed more cleanly and had a reduced hospital stay.

Darker honeys, specifically honey from buckwheat flowers, sage and tupelo, contain a greater amount of antioxidants than other honeys, and raw, unprocessed honey contains the widest variety of health-supportive substances.

Will run for syrup

I have a coworker whose running accomplishments and race-day logistics are definitely worthy of a quick mention. I was reminded of this today because the coworker in question just told me about the marathon he ran yesterday, and, as is typical for him, he posted an enviable, sub-elite time under chaotic and amusing conditions.

My coworker is tall, lanky, and most definitely a natural runner. I am short, not lanky, and try very hard when running. I first realized that he and I ran in different universes one evening in the Park last summer. On this particular run, I was out for a five mile fartlek, and I happened to be in the quick portion of my run (my fartleks alternate one minute of hard running with two minutes of easy running) when I saw him running towards me. When we reached one another, he promptly switched directions and began running alongside me, asking me all sorts of questions like where I was running and for how long. I realized then that he had been tricked into thinking my average pace was a lot faster than it really was, and that he would be sorely disappointed when the 60 seconds were up and I brought it down to a (much) lower gear. Through short breaths, I said, "I…can't…run…this…fast…for…very…long... I...just...need...to...fart--" and with that, he turned around, waved goodbye, and continued on his way! The next day at work, when I bumped into him in at the coffee machine, he told me, somewhat incredulously, that he was just out for eighteen miles (at 7:30 pm on a Wednesday night!) and that, when he got home, he ate a whole third of a watermelon!! A whole third of a watermelon?? Really? Yes, there's a reason that he's lanky.

A couple of months later, while he was away in Boston on a work-related trip, another one of my colleagues, who was also on the same trip, sent me the following email:

We ended up talking about how he went running yesterday morning before the storm came into town. I asked him where he went, and he said that he took the T to Wonderland and then ran along the beach out there. I told him that that sounded very nice, and he said yes, it was. Especially because, he added, as he was running he noticed a small 5k race about to start and decided to join in. Which he did, and which he then won. The prize was a giant bottle of maple syrup, which he said he then had to run with all the way back to the hotel. [It was a seven mile run back to the hotel.]

Today, he approached me at work to ask about my upcoming race. He then casually mentioned that he just ran a marathon yesterday. It was the Long Island marathon, and he was very disappointed in his time. Not wanting to pry, I asked if the weather was poor or if he was not sufficiently trained, and he then revealed the following: While the weather was drizzly but okay, he found it most difficult that the course was run along the desolate Parkway, and runners were spaced about 400 m apart. He was anticipating Power Gel stations at miles 8 and 18, but there were none, and so he spent most of the intervening miles asking the odd person he came across on the Parkway, "Do you have a gel?" At mile 23, where there actually were Power Gels on offer, he ate three of them (gross). At the finish, there was no shelter and it was, by this time, pouring rain. He had no friends or family to greet him, so he had to get on his bike to cycle three miles to the train station. And his time? A disappointing 2:57. (Never mind that he's pacing a friend at another marathon in three weeks' time for a 3 hour finish. But as he said, this should be "no problem.") Well, at least he didn't have to carry back any maple syrup this time.

Rockets and running

Today marked the last “long” run before the marathon next week. Given that I'm into taper, this meant only nine easy miles were required. Of course, as anyone who has ever trained for a marathon knows all too well, for some reason, cutting back on the mileage tends not to feel as good as it should. Even the short, relatively easy runs that make up this week and the next seem too difficult and too long. My legs feel heavy, my breathing labored. Nagging aches and pains have started to crop up in all sorts of funny places. Experienced athletes will give you lots of pseudo-scientific, physiological reasons for this. They’ll claim that your body is so accustomed to working out hard that it crashes with even a 10-20% reduction in overall intensity. I find this hard to believe. While I know that exercise increases energy levels (apparently, though I beg to differ following a 20 mile run or an intense bout of intervals) and that the less you do, the less you feel like doing, tapering represents only a very modest reduction in training and, if anything, should provide some much needed rest.

I tend to subscribe to the theory that more psychological factors are at work. After 16+ weeks of dedicated training in which I checked off most of my miles but not necessarily all of my target paces or heart rates, the last week before the big day leaves me wondering if I’m really that well prepared to run this thing, and especially to run it at my target pace. This self-doubt is compounded by the realization that, with only one week left to go, there’s nothing more to be done between now and race day. If I haven’t squeezed it into the last 16 weeks of marathon training -- whatever “it” might be – I won’t be doing it at all. There are no more opportunities to improve my speed, strength, or endurance. In seven days, I need to show my hand. But my tendency to distress over missed opportunities and lament what I'll never have the chance to do extends beyond my running. It also extends to space exploration.

Last summer I tried to be an Astronaut. The Canadian Space Agency (yes, we have one) decided that it was time to hire a couple of Canucks to train as astronauts, and they announced that they would be choosing two lucky winners to join Canada’s “next generation of space explorers.” When I say that I have always wanted to be an astronaut, this is mostly true. Certainly I wanted to be one when I was seven years old, and, though I never actually did anything that would increase my chances of becoming one, it remains the coolest job I can think of. Seriously, I challenge you to think of a response to the usually boring "so-what-do-you-do-for-a-living" dinner party conversation that could elicit as many oooohs and aaaaahs as, "I FLY ROCKET SHIPS INTO SPACE!!!"

It was therefore with much enthusiasm that I submitted my Round 1 application last summer, proudly noting that I met the basic height, blood pressure, and educational requirements. When I was subsequently “selected” for Round 2 (never mind whether the selection was automated or not), I immediately began to compose and deliver my essay, “Why I should become Canada’s next astronaut.” My friends were proud. My coworkers were amused. My husband was fearful. I was doubtful, but secretly hopeful.

As you probably guessed, I didn’t make it past Round 2. Those that did have skills that I most definitely do not, such as in flying fighter planes or designing rocket ships. And while I wasn’t really expecting to make it to Round 3 or beyond, it was still a bit of a bummer when I received my automated response. The email ended by saying, “We would like to thank you for your interest in the astronaut recruitment campaign and the Canadian Space Program, and wish you good luck in your future endeavours.”

One thing that is painfully obvious to me is that my “future endeavours” will not include going into space, unless I someday buy a tourist-class ticket. I will never be an astronaut. That ship has sailed, the train has left the station, the rocket has left the launch pad (and I’m not in it). This makes me a little sad, because I have a nagging worry about lost opportunities in my life, and the lack of time to make new ones. I’m only 31 years old, but already I feel like I’ve missed a lot of chances along the way that I’ll never get back. Not only will I never join the esteemed Canadian Space Agency and therefore never have access to the secret files revealing that the moon landing was, indeed, an elaborate hoax, neither will I ever be a doctor or a lawyer, which are also professions that I aspired to at some point in my youth. I’ll never cure cancer or sit on the Supreme Court. Heck, I’ll probably never even live in Paris and perfect my French.

Similarly, I realize that I may never be a 3:10 marathoner (assuming I have the innate ability) because I didn’t start running early enough, and soon I’ll have to start readjusting my PR goals upwards by five minutes with every five years of age, anyway. And while there may have been more I could have done during this round of training to prepare for next week's race, the training is in the bag. There are always things I could have done, but sometimes, I need to remind myself that it may be better to keep my head out of the clouds, feet firmly planted on the ground.