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 tribute

A few days ago, after running 15.5 miles (my longest run since my 2010 marathon), I began writing a post that was intended as a tribute to my husband.  Without Zdenek, I would never be able to run (or cycle) as frequently and far as I do, and I just wanted to give him a public shout-out to let him know that his support does not go unnoticed.  I never finished the post, unfortunately, but today I found a different way of expressing my gratitude.  The picture below represents a word cloud of my blog, life to-date.  This may be a space ostensibly devoted to chronicling my running and cycling adventures, but I think it's pretty obvious where my true passion lies.

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.

One less thing to worry about

I am always happy to read stuff like this. Makes my lack of strength training seem not only harmless, but potentially even helpful. Thank goodness for new science.

Life in the fast lane

Last weekend, Zdenek and I packed Ryder, a travel crib, and two suitcases worth of bibs, diapers, onesies, rompers, and bottles, and we headed off with good friends to the Poconos in Pennsylvania. Departing NYC in our rental car at 4 pm on a Friday in the summer was a brave (stupid?) move, especially considering that it was in the middle of a record-breaking heat wave. Never mind: we strapped Ryder into his car seat, scattered a few teething toys around him, and hoped for the best.

Despite the heat, the boy handled things pretty well for the first 90 minutes or so. He played with his toys, stared out the window, and eventually dozed off for half an hour. But upon waking, he realized that (a) he was still restrained, (b) it was pretty close to his dinnertime, and (c) it was almost bed time. And that's when the screaming started. Mom and Dad, unaccustomed to traveling with Ryder in a car, didn't know what to do. We were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic across five lanes, and, according to the map feature on my iPhone, were pretty much going to stay that way for the next 40 minutes. So I headed into the backseat to distract my boy with silly sounds and peek-a-boo, which worked -- for a while. But when Ryder finally decided that he had really had enough (or rather, when we decided that we couldn't handle the screaming anymore), we had to make a quick turn-off to feed him and take a break. He was delighted. Then we strapped him in again, and he screamed the rest of the way to our destination.

I realize that most parents travel everywhere by car with their little ones, and screaming is probably par for the course. But for Zdenek, Ryder, and me, this was a pretty novel experience. I think I've figured out why: Ryder is rarely restrained for more than 15 minutes at a time, and when he is, he's got an impressive number of cars, people, dogs, trees, etc. to entertain him. We go everywhere by foot. He's out our door and at the store within 10 minutes. He's at the Park within 15, and then promptly put on the swing. He never, ever has to wait or sit patiently. For anything. I am sure that New Yorkers' impatience and short fuses are nurtured from birth.

I can only hope that Ryder's detest for sitting idle will some day translate into a super-energetic, over-achieving athleticism. Until then, my little Manhattanite will continue to live life in the fast lane from the comfort of his stroller.