A happy ending

Another year is almost over. I'm not one to get sentimental about the transition, but 2009 will definitely mark the year that I found a new training partner and enjoyed some of my best running yet. From this perspective, the last week of 2009 has been near perfect:

• When we returned to New York early Sunday afternoon after flying nine hours across the Atlantic on very little sleep the night before, it was less than two hours before we found ourselves running once again in Central Park. Apparently exercise is meant to be the best cure for jet lag -- I remain somewhat unconvinced that this actually works -- but in any case, it was a great feeling to be running in the late afternoon sunshine.
  
• Monday evening after work, the idea of running was completely unappetizing. But, while I don’t want my running to ever feel like a chore, I also know that I have never once regretted a run. Ignoring my pounding sinus headache, I tied up my laces and headed out into the cold wind. When it was over, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had run a sub-7:45 pace, and once again I did not regret my decision.
  
• Tuesday morning found us again facing frigid temperatures and icy winds, but still we ran just over six miles in decent time. (Zdenek tried to allow me to “draft” off of him when the wind was the strongest, but alas, this strategy is best reserved for cycling.)
  
• Wednesday morning, though I continue to battle a cold and am still apparently on European time (falling asleep around 9 pm and awaking around 5 am), we ran a 7:40 fartlek in downright cold weather. During the “hard” portions of the fartlek, Zdenek ran a much faster pace than me and was able to put considerable distance between us within 30 seconds. He allowed me to catch up again during the two minutes of “easy” running interspersed between, but it’s obvious that he could have run even faster had he not been forced to wait for me.
• This morning, I'm fighting every urge to not head out for a playful three miles in the falling snow. Big, fluffy, white flakes are coming down quickly outside of my window, and this represents some of my favorite running conditions. But we're scheduled to run four miles in Central Park at midnight with eight or more friends, so I'll save my energy for the late-night jaunt and the dinner for eight that I have to cook beforehand. (I even forced myself to stay up until 10:45 pm last night in attempt to reset my clock!) 2010 is only hours away, and I'm excited to ring it in by doing my favorite activity with a few of my favorite people.
  

Happy New Year's!

Oh, the liver!

We've just returned from a whirlwind European Christmas adventure. Going into this vacation, I was a bit dubious of our travel schedule and tight itinerary, but it turns out that any worries I may have had were unfounded. Yes, the double-decker plane never arrived in New York because a two inch snowfall in Europe kept it grounded, and yes, this meant that we got bumped to a later flight booked with what seemed like half of the children of France. But we received a few Euros to compensate for our troubles, and these were minor upsets in what was otherwise a near perfect vacation.

In Paris, we reconnected with my favourite Brits, Lee and Mel, who adopted me as part of their extended family during my time spent across the pond several years ago. This time, we arrived (a bit late) to greet them in the two bedroom Parisian apartment Mel had arranged for our stay. Though the walls were paper thin, the toilet freezing cold, and the television controls incomprehensible, the beds were comfortable, the shower was hot, and the kitchen was well equipped. Besides, we made-do by going to bed most nights too tipsy to notice any problems (and by bopping to MP3s from Lee's cell phone speaker). We managed to visit the major sights and sounds in a snow dusted, magical Paris, but mostly just focused on enjoying the company. Most importantly, we dined on so much foie gras that it surely replaced any liver cells lost to excessive imbibing of French wines. It was three days of pure indulgence.

For now, some pictures of Paris (Czech Republic update and photos to come)...

Zdenek and I finally arrived in Paris and
headed out for celebratory drinks with long lost friends, Lee and Mel

Our apartment was steps away from what might have been
the most beautiful street in Paris, filled with the most amazing gourmet delights

Zdenek's first official French crepe

Musee d'Orsay at dusk

Who are those Parisians?

At the Louvre

Paris never fails to inspire romance

It was important to visit l'Arc de Triomphe,
site of the final stage of Le Tour

Lunch at Musee d'Orsay

Look! Zdenek found the painting that matches his ticket!

Me, too!

A very Parisian afternoon

Merry Christmas to all!

In a few hours we're heading to JFK to catch our double-decker flight to Paris. No doubt Zdenek and I will be stuck in the two middle seats, but I'm hoping to be able to catch a few zzzz's anyway: I'm wearing my never-sexy, but always comfy, Lulu Lemon pants; my inflatable travel pillow is packed; and I'm going to make a quick stop at the drug store to pick up some sleeping "aids." We ran 11 miles this morning in bitterly cold weather, which will hopefully make me all the more tired come 7:30 pm tonight.

I'm sad that I won't be spending Christmas and New Year's with my family at the cabin, and I'm sorry that I won't be able to see my friends this year and to meet the newest addition to our gang. But Paris in the holiday season is bound to be beautiful and romantic, and I'm going to be able to spend a few days with two of my best friends whom I only get to see every few years (if I'm lucky). Christmas in the Czech Republic with family that we almost never see will be a special and memorable treat. And between the French wine and Czech brews, I'm confident that I'll have a very merry time indeed.

To my friends near and far, I wish that we could be celebrating the season together -- please enjoy a cocktail for me! To my mom and dad, my sister and her clan, my brother and his -- I will be thinking of you and missing you very much. Please think of me when you're eating perogies and enjoy a walk among the snowy mountains on my behalf. To everyone that I won't get to hug and kiss in person this holiday, I wish you much love and happiness, and the very merriest of Christmases.

Breathless

The past few weeks have been eventful ones and the next couple promise more of the same: holiday parties seem to be happening every other day; Christmas shopping has infringed on most of my weekend time; we’re taking a red-eye flight to Paris on Friday that is sure to be stressful and tiring (even though it will constitute my first ever trip on a double-decker airplane). Most importantly of all, I’ve been absolutely awestruck by the fact that one of my dear friends, Jessica, became the proud (and most capable!) mother to a beautiful baby girl five days ago. Lately, I’ve been left breathless with all that I have to do and think about.

It was therefore a bit of sweet relief to run alone this morning (something that I rarely do these days) and, with no offense to my husband, it was a nice change of pace in every sense of the word. Zdenek has gone, in about six months, from being slightly less fit than me over distances longer than four or five miles, to matching my every stride on runs up to 10 miles long, to being a faster, stronger runner than me over distances from 100 meters up to 15 miles (we’ve yet to run further than that together). I shouldn’t complain -- it was me, after all, who gently encouraged his running habit over the past five years -- but I am often left to feel like a weak girl who can’t keep up. Our runs together frequently leave me tired, frustrated, or both. To make matters worse, lately my legs have begun to feel lead-like and sluggish. Though I’m sure I’m just in need of more rest, a day off seems to make little difference and I find my breathing labored and my muscles stiff almost every single run.

But this morning, as Zdenek nursed his hangover and requested an extra hour of sleep, I ignored the achy feeling in my legs and quietly slipped out of bed to brew a cup of coffee. Thirty minutes later, I was in Central Park on a clear, cold December morning. For almost 60 minutes I ran in solitude, never looking at my watch, slowing down when I needed to, pushing the pace when the mood struck me (which wasn't that often). (And as it turns out, I didn't run that much more slowly than I do with Zdenek by my side.) To be sure, it was still a difficult run -- I barely moved up Harlem Hill and had a hard time finding my stride against the strong winds -- and today's seven miles left me breathless. They were, however, the perfect antidote to a busy few weeks.

(Congratulations, again, Jessica and Adam!)

Wet and wild

Judging by the number of cocktails I've consumed and hours of sleep I've lost over the past 72 hours, the holiday season is clearly in full swing. Unfortunately, this tired old body is simply not cut-out for hard partying anymore. (Then again, I'm not sure that it ever was: I am famous amongst my friends for always being the first girl to bail when the clock strikes midnight, and have even been known to ask my mom to pick me up and drive me home (she doesn't mind -- really!)). With every passing year, it seems that each additional drink consumed demands an additional hour of recovery the next day. Saturday morning I felt pretty crummy. Sunday morning I awoke in a daze. By yesterday evening, I could barely carry on a conversation past 7 pm. Today is Monday, and I think I am in need of a weekend to recover from the weekend.

Saturday was a miserable day in New York City for a multitude of reasons: unrelenting rains, strong winds, and freezing temperatures from sunrise to sunset. Why, then, Zdenek and I decided in our exhausted state to run over 15 miles in such conditions is still a bit of a mystery. After a long Friday night out on the town, we got a very late start on Saturday and, at first, considered skipping the run altogether. As I washed down my Advil with a cup of coffee, the temperature outside dropped and the rain began to fall. Nevertheless, we filled up our water bottles, tucked Power Gels into our pockets, and set off, thinking we'd go slowly and quit when it didn't make sense anymore (if it ever did make sense in the first place, that is).

This run was a struggle, to say the least. I don't think we had finished our first loop before the rain started coming down in sheets and most of our fellow devotees cleared the Park. Soon it was just Zdenek and me versus the hypothermia-inducing elements. My clothes were sopping and cold, my leg muscles tight and stiff. At times we barely moved against the wind. I could only think of the hot shower and steaming cup of coffee that awaited me at home. But as we neared the 12 mile mark in almost total isolation, I casually suggested to Zdenek that we continue on and aim for 15-16 miles total. He didn't flinch.

Maybe we were trying to show that we were tough. Maybe we were hoping that any leftover alcohol molecules circulating in our blood would be sweat out and washed away. Maybe we had no good reason at all. Whatever our motivation, I was somewhat unsurprised to learn that it is shared by my friend and fellow runner, Caitlin. Like me, Caitlin adores early bedtimes and long workouts, and the two of us often leave parties early to split a cab back to our respective Upper West Side abodes. This morning, when I (with some pride) relayed to Caitlin my epic 15.5 mile journey through a winter rainstorm, she responded (with equal pride), "I ran that day, too!" Go figure.

My Saturday morning run (which we completed in an 8:30 min/mile pace and which gave me a bad case of red, itchy, freezer-burned skin) was definitely a party of sorts. Caitlin, Zdenek, and I may be losing steam when it comes to pulling all-nighters, but perhaps our definition of a "good time" is just a bit different from that of our peers. It appears that we can still find energy when it matters.

Blown away

Zdenek and I are both suffering from illnesses at the moment, and when the alarm went off this morning in the dark hours before sunrise, my head throbbed as though I had been punched repeatedly throughout my sleep. We stumbled out of bed to brew our usual cup of Tim’s (stores have been replenished following our trip to Canada last week), but questioned whether a run was really the best idea.

We live on a rather gusty block of the Upper West Side due to our proximity to the Hudson River. In the summer the strong breezes off the water offer a welcome respite from the otherwise stale and humid air, but wintertime typically finds us running to the shelter of our doorstep to avoid the icy chill blowing through us. This morning, however, we were greeted by an unseasonably warm wind (18 degrees Celsius!) as we stepped outside, and my shorts and t-shirt seemed strangely appropriate for December 3.

The skies above hung low and dark, but in the East -- towards Central Park -- the first rays of the morning sunrise poked through. The clouds, tinged with silver, moved eastward at a formidable clip; we chased them, the wind at our backs. And then, ten minutes into our run, I looked up to find that half of the sky had cleared. By three miles, the sun had risen and the clouds were entirely blown away. Manhattan was bathed in blue skies and fresh, warm air -- as though the rain clouds had never passed through at all.

Today’s 10k turned out to be respectable but too difficult (and hours later, I still feel like crawling back into bed). But bearing witness to this morning’s skies -- and the extraordinarily quick turn of events overhead -- made it worth the effort. I treasure runs like today’s. If only my sickness would change course as quickly.

Welcome home

We recently took advantage of the US Thanksgiving holiday to fly home (to my original home town, that is) and visit friends and family. We’ll be spending Christmas week this year in Paris and the Czech Republic, but the past four days in Canada felt almost like being home for the holidays. (Ironically, as we cleared US customs at the Canadian airport before flying back to New York City, the immigration officer greeted me in Spanish, laughed about being unable to fake a New York accent, and then handed me back my passport, saying, “Welcome home.”)

The trip to Canada was busy from start to finish and I think we’re only now starting to make a dent in our accumulated sleep deficit, but it was well worth it. We got a Christmas teaser with an afternoon visit to Lake Louise in Banff -- seven feet of snow along an icy, picturesque lake (with a small avalanche before our very eyes) was a fine welcome to the month of December. I spent as much time as possible with my family and friends, and managed to ingest an impressive number of perogies over the weekend. On Saturday morning, Zdenek and I ran a liberating 14 miles through Fish Creek Park in an attempt to shake off the previous night’s libations. It wasn’t Central Park, but then, it didn’t have to be.

Lake Louise looked just like this during our visit