Frosty Morning jaunt

My Dad thought he was being funny yesterday and said truly dedicated runners get up early and run BEFORE work. I was trying to finagle a way to run AFTER work by leaving earlier and not taking a lunch hour. Well, that didn't work. So he tried to get a rise out of me with the dedicated dig.

(Random Google picture, by the way. Trying to make this post a little more interesting)


Fine.
I went home late last night from work. Cleaned my room and organized stuff. Got my leggings and winter running gear all ready to go and was asleep by 10 p.m. the latest.

Cut scene to this morning.

My iPhone went off at a mere 6:30 a.m. I saw the sun peeking up over the ridge of hills across the lake. So I grumbled and threw my covers off and trudged to the bathroom. Spent more time than was necessary putting my contacts in with the brief hope that MAYBE the sun would work at hyper speed and warm up the pavement so I wouldn't look like a human icicle after 5 minutes outside. Brushed my teeth. NOTE: TERRIBLE AWFUL STUPID thing to do.

I looked outside again. I'll admit tying my shoes on almost made me cry. Now I LOVE the cold. But I love the cold because I'm usually running between 2 and 4 p.m. and I sweat like I'm 400 pounds. I sweat A LOT and normally HATE HATE HATE sunlight because of this reason. So the cold is my friend, normally. But at 6:45 a.m., when I've just gotten out of bed and it's 28 degrees outside, and the sun is BARELY covering a third of the pavement, I am not even close to partially thrilled.

But I tried to make the best of it. I opened the door and plodded down the driveway. The sunrise was pretty so for a moment I felt a surge of, "Wow, I'm pretty awesome and feel pretty awesome for being motivated and getting up early." It made me feel like those rock climbers or runners that you see in the Granola bar commercials. They drive a Subaru and go hiking with their dogs no matter what the weather. They eat all vegan, healthy food and wear burlap sacks for clothes. All their gear and accessories are made from recycled materials. Yeah. Felt like one of them for about...5 seconds. Then my lungs started to freeze over. And my ear cartilage started to crunch if I pressed it in against my head. My eyes were watering so bad that I nearly plowed over one of our neighbors in her hot pink velour bathrobe. GOOD MORNING WATERBURY! What a splendid day it is starting out to be.

About 2 miles in, I realized my toothpaste mistake. The world can deal with my morning breathe for a few miles next time. This was like my mouth was frozen in the open position. Yeah. Awful. I was pretty much gagging on my own spit while I ran.

By the time I shuffled through the front door, completely unimpressed with the fact I finished a super early morning run for once, I just wanted a shower and someone to complain to. Mom was still asleep and when I woke her up, she pretty much told me to deal with it, I have to work, so running early is my only choice right now. Then she went back to bed. Thanks, Mom. Those were some real helpful words.

But yeah...I'm gonna try and find a new headband that actually covers my ears and doesn't flap in the breeze. I'll admit that my ears and chest were 95% of the problem. Mostly my ears. I have a hat for next time, but I don't like to use it because of my ponytail. Just too much hair and not enough hat. So, maybe tonight I'll find a good headband when I go to the Mall for a few returns.

The plus of this whole adventure - I really enjoy the fact that all I have to do later are my core exercises and my run is done. Also, I realize I only have to do these runs 2-3 days during the week, then weekends I can run when it's a little sunnier, and if it rains or snows, treadmill and bike. So really it's not that bad. I just felt the need to write about it and now I feel better.

and how awesome is this?!?!

http://www.heraldsun.com.au/sport/superracing/cool-runnings-as-hooves-hit-the-ice/story-fn67tkww-1226270133346

They attach sulkies or saddles or skiis and hold on while the horses race around the ice. I'm assuming the horses have studded shoes too.

Running post

I haven't written about running in a while.
Mostly because I've had injuries, heart problems, strep throat. You know, STUFF, just getting in the way of actually enjoying the sport.

I got to leave work a little early yesterday (Dad doesn't like me running outside in our neighborhood when it's dark). I've been easing back into it slowly. I was on the treadmill in  Rochester doing 8 miles for a couple days in a row until I got sick.

That went up in flames.

So, this past Thursday, Jack got a gym membership. I went with him and biked, went on the treadmill, and even lifted weights. Something different for once.  I ventured into unknown territory. THE UPSTAIRS. Que scary music. It wasn't that bad.

So then Saturday, Sunday, Monday, I ventured back outside to run my hilly neighborhood. And I was thinking, I got to the point where I became so sick of it, that I wasn't enjoying it anymore. And then I tried to remember if I EVER enjoyed it. I think I did. At least, I enjoyed what it gave me and made me feel.

I remember that breakthrough race. Sophomore year of High School. Setting the scene here: Wolcott High's track. End of the meet. 3200m final. I was always just tossed into this event because I ran cross-country and couldn't sprint to save my life, even if an entire zombie apocalypse was trailing me. I'd probably just give up and die. That was the extent of my running talent. I was still heavily invested in competing with Bandit. So, it's a warm late afternoon day and I put my ugly pink Asics spikes on. I actually felt a little excited. And mind you, my warm-up in high school was stretching. I didn't run 3 miles to get my legs ready for a 2 mile race. That came later in my obsessive collegiate career. I got on the line, gun went off, and I RAN. Ran for REAL this time. I crossed the line and Walker looked at me. No congratulations. Just a: "Where the hell has that been all season?!" My time dropped nearly three minutes from 15:00 to 12:42. I missed qualifying for states by like 10 seconds or something. And that was it. I trained like a maniac all summer. Well, 3 miles a day at the lake was a maniac back then.

X-C went alright. Then track rolled around. 5:20 mile by the spring. 12:00 3200 by the spring as well. Next X-C season, undefeated until I caught mono. And so begins the long line of injuries and sickness. Winter track - 11:17 3200m. Outdoor - 5:16 1600m. Then, a stress fracture.

Once I hit college though, I was determined to prove to no one in particular that I could run. So that summer, once my ankle healed up, 8-9 miles a day from mid-July until I made it to Marist. It was like I was possessed. That turned into 10-12 mile runs PER DAY, along with 12 miles on the bike 3-4 days a week, plus weights, and an hour long core workout. This went on until I strained my Achilles after Sophomore X-Country season. And then started the decline. My mileage slipped up until the summer between Junior and Senior year. I got an inhaler and got my mileage back up and actually had a decent Senior year, but it was pockmarked with injuries. Per usual. Track season was alright. I got close to my 10k PR of 36:12. Within 12 seconds of it I believe. I ran through the summer and started to really looked forward to my half marathon debut. But that spark was definitely missing. It still felt like WORK. After Sophomore year at Marist, anything for track or xc felt like work.

But I also remembered, High School and that summer right before college, other parts of my life kind of fell apart and running was what made me feel GOOD. Paul and I weren't together and everything was extremely rough between us. Instead of spending time out on the lake tubing or jetskiing, I was pounding miles out every afternoon. I felt a little lost going into College. And even my first year of college, all I liked about it was running. I didn't want to do anything else because it made me comfortable.

And now here I am. I went out for my run yesterday and while everything burned and hurt from being sick and banged up, I still did it. I stopped after 4 miles to keep from overdoing it. But I would really love for 9 miles to be a walk in the park. I did a long core workout. And tonight, I'll probably hang out with the bike again.

But here is my question to all POST-COLLEGIATE runner. How do YOU keep that spark? I still love the sport. On days when I don't run, I feel guilty and morose. I sulk around. But getting out on the roads is tough. especially with work being until 4:30 and it's dark when I get out. I don't HATE the treadmill, but I want the strength back from doing all my runs outside. Where's that motivation? I missed an upcoming race deadline because of my strep.

I am in a slump I guess.

Although yesterday, I started to enjoy it again. Maybe it's because I haven't been able to do it. Maybe it's because it's not in a job-like atmosphere anymore.

Whatever the reason, I hope it keeps up.

Sorry if this was rambly. I was thinking about it yesterday. Didn't know what to write today. So here it is.

And I this made me giggle. hahaha

Happy Trails everyone.

Saying Goodbye

So I was in Rochester this past week.

I was productive too. Finished a huge chunk of my insurance licensing course.

I ended up with Strep somehow. So from Tuesday night to Friday night was a little rough. Thank God for antibiotics. I think. Still debating that.

I had a really great trip. We went out one night for Halloween, handed candy out to excited kids dressed as Angry Birds or zombies on Halloween night, saw Perks of Being a Wallflower (finally!) and cooked and caught up on Revenge episodes with Paul. Side note: The beginning of Perks of Being a Wallflower has the tunnel that Paul and I would drive through when he picked me up from the airport in Pittsburgh. It's through a mountain pretty much and comes out onto a beautiful bridge that shows you a good expanse of the city. I remembered it immediately. So cool. The movie was fantastic, for anyone who hasn't seen it yet.

But the real reason I'm writing, which is really difficult to do today, is because Jasper is gone. My 11-year-old, crazy, stinky, always smiling Lab had cancer throughout his entire body. They found it last Monday. Jasper had been throwing up all over the garage last Sunday at Jack's birthday and they took him to the vet only to find problems. He had a piece of steak bone stuck in his intestine and also had cancer everywhere. Even if the bone was removed, the vet said he had two weeks tops because his appetite was pretty much gone. We had noticed he wouldn't eat his dog food unless someone stood over him. And I noticed how he was puking a lot. And he even pee'd on my mom's oriental rug when I let him in the house. We are talking about the dog with steel kidneys here. He had the capability of holding his urine stream all day if we had to go away for something. He was a champ.

So Mom called me Monday afternoon and I almost dropped the phone from my hand. I had just finished running and felt as though my heart had stopped beating entirely. She said that Hurricane Sandy knocked power out at the vet's and they ended up not taking him until Halloween morning. She said he watched Dad with big sad eyes, almost pleading with him to fix him like he so often did. Paul commented that it was probably best I wasn't home to see it all. The poor dog kept drooling and barfing everywhere. He was weak. Monday night we figured out Skype on Jack's iPad so I got to see him one last time. He was just quiet.

Halloween day passed and I tried not to think too much about what coming home to the empty garage with the empty food and water bowls would be like. No Jasper to run up and sniff my jeans for those exciting Rochester and gas station highway stop smells.

We used to laugh about how he would pop his head out from under the garage door as it opened and he would raise his head as the door went up so it looked like his head was raising the door. Silly. Or if all the garage doors were open except one and he was outside, he would wait for the one you were opening at that moment and then enter the garage that way. He was just silly. It's instances like those that made us laugh after a long day at work or school.

And I can't even begin with his personality quirks. He was a wild puppy. Tearing clothes and the yard up in one fell swoop. We left him home in a rush one day to get to school. He was only outside maybe a half hour but we came back to find my mother's precious dogwood tree had lost a rather large limb and it was scattered around the lawn in splinters. Jasper was rather proud of that one and even helped us clean the sticks up. He was proud until Dad got home and started yelling. Then he was nowhere to be found.

We had a similar instance where my mom was watering a plant and Jasper decided he wanted water. So he stuck his nose in and mom batted him away. Rachael Vaughan and I had just gotten home from the barn and watched as the little tyrant spun around and bit the beautifully formed flower head off her plant. Just snapped it off, spit it out, and nonchalantly walked away.

Jasper is a type of stone. Ironic considering Jasper's favorite food wasn't dog food, or even people food. It was rocks. We caught him laying at the end of the driveway chewing. Dad would jack his mouth open and two or three rocks would tumble out as he fought for his head. Not only did he eat them, he passed them. And his love for them only grew. He loved to swim, but was terrified of jumping off the dock unless one of us ran and jumped with him. It took him until he was 9 years old before he would try it. But he had NO FEAR whatsoever of sticking his head underwater and coming up with rocks bigger than his own head. And he would deposit them either on the lawn or the big Jetski dock rock. He had a collection that we would routinely throw back in. Much like restocking a fishing pond. And by the time he turned 11, his teeth were filed down to nubs. Jasper was a show on his own. Moltys and their company would come over, most notably Mr. Ferrarri who was Jasper's biggest fan, and they would watch this nutty dog hunt around for a prize of the sandy variety.

There's other little stories that just show how he grew into our lives and became family. There was the day that Paul took him on the jetski. He wasn't a fan. There was also the day that Paul and Jasper took the surf bike for a ride until Jasper got bored and simply walked off the back leaving Paul to flip over.

And everyone had a voice to narrate his thoughts. It was always your basic, dopey, happy voice that laughed every other sentence. But we all loved giving words to his doggie persona.

I took Jasper for his last car ride with me about a week ago. He passed out in the back seat until I opened the window and he stuck his head out. Ears flapping, nose sniffing, we drove along and he wagged his tail. The Buick and my Legacy were his cars. He didn't want you to ask him to come, he demanded and expected the door to just be opened for him automatically.

But I think the best part of Jasper, and the hardest part of saying goodbye...is the fact he was always there, in the garage or in the kitchen hallway if I needed a neck to hug, or some fur to cry into (no matter how stinky it may have been that day). If I had a bad, I could sit on the steps with him and he'd push his nose around until I pet him for hours. Or we'd go outside and he'd get a superb grooming. The dog shed like no other. He was like another brother for me though. Although he was like an older brother for the simple fact he picked me up when I was down.

You were the best of the best, buddy. I hope doggie heaven has lots of Otises for you to go swimming in and find rocks. You'll never be forgotten

An overload of Jasper pictures: