Tempe, AZ

Yahoo! I finished my 7th half marathon in Tempe, AZ!

It was a whirlwind of a weekend, but so much fun. Vick and I woke up at 4am on Saturday for our flight to Phoenix Arizona, and made it there somewhat awake. We got picked up at the airport by the fabulous Laura and Michael Ritzler, who were our amazing hosts for the weekend. They brought us to the race expo which was our first glimpse of how HUGE the P. F. Chang's Rock and Roll Half Marathon would be. Even though I know that there would be 10s of thousands of people running, I didn't really have a concept of what that meant. The race expo was only the first time in the weekend that we'd be herded through an area like livestock. Where's Temple Grandin when you need her?

After the expo, we got to hang with the Ritzler four-legged, fuzzy children. Tallie has grown into quite the silly dog since our days in Redondo Beach. Isis and Boobaloo were super cute and sweet. All three were so BIG compared to our teeny children. Next we carb-loaded at Gasper's with Laura and Mike, and our food coma was perfectly timed for 8pm.

Weather-wise, race day was absolutely perfect. When we left Laura's house it was in the upper 40s. It was in the upper 50s when we stopped running. It was cloudy, which is great for translucent people like myself.

With so many people in corrals at the start line, it took us nearly 25 minutes to begin. The freight train crossing after the first corrals left didn't help anything. Once we did get by the start line, there was still the matter of passing people or being passed. In every race I've run, thus far, after a mile or two, the pack thins as the herd stretches out. For this race, the people were plentiful, and it seemed as though we had to bob and weave around runners for the entire race.

The terrain was interesting. Arizona is way more flat Massachusetts, and since the trees are few and far between, it feels like you can see for miles. And yet, the course still steadily gained elevation for several miles in the middle. The awesome part about that? The last few miles were a gradual decline. Sweet.

Arizona was the first place I've raced with cacti. One cactus of note looked as though it had two arms, mid-clap. Vick nearly stopped us to ensure that I saw it. He's a silly boy. Although, at mile 8, we needed any applause we could get.

We finished the race in 2:13:25. That means that we were 11 seconds/mile away from of my goal of running 10-minute miles. Since I didn't tell Vick that was the goal until the day before the race, I think we did pretty well!

After finishing, racers were treated to bananas, frozen yogurt, jamba juice, bagels, water, and snack bars. This all would have been extraordinarily nice if there weren't thousands of us trying to leave the finish chute. We were fenced in, and the fences funneled inwards as we got closer and closer to the exit. People were sweaty and hot. I felt like I was going to pass out from claustrophobia, and then my husband started mooing. Oy. They should call in Temple Grandin for expert advice before their next race.

Once we had finally exited, we met up with Laura and Mike, who were nice enough to take us for pancakes and waffles, then back for much needed showers and video games. Before our red-eye back to Boston, they brought us to an eat-in movie theater with super-comfy chairs. All-in-all, it was a fantastic race day. Many thanks to the Ritzlers for such a great weekend!

Now, back to sleep!

Heading in a Different Direction

A beer-tracking tragedy occurred about 4 months ago. I had thought that sending Vick a text each time I drank a new beer would ensure that I would never lose my beerdata. I allowed several months to go by before updating my spreadsheet, knowing that all of my beerinformation was safely stored on two devices. My foolproof beer-collecting system failed when both my cell phone and Vick's cell phone died in the same week.

Disgruntled by the loss, I stopped recording my beers all together. I'm fairly certain that I had over 20 beer names that are lost forever. So, I've decided to go in a slightly different direction.

While I still make a commitment to drink good beer (rather than yucky beer), I'm ending my attempt to finish a certain number in a certain time. I'm not going to give up beer forever, though. As I continue to run a half marathon in each state, I will do my best to record and blog about excellent beers.

Like the Pretty Things Jack D'Or that I had at 10 Tables in JP last month. I'm pretty sure that was an excellent beer, or at least it paired well with fantastic food! Or how Opa Opa IPA goes so well with Thanksgiving dinner. Anyway, I'll get back to recording, but this time with less ambition. Ambition is for suckers.

Worcester, MA

After reading my last post, my brother was a little anxious. You see, he thought I had forgotten to mention the most important part of the Worcester Half Marathon. In that post, I did mention that I ran the race in Worcester. I wrote about the fact that Vick ran it with me, and that we ran it faster than expected. What Broder didn't realize, was that my last post was really about Vick, and less about the race. No worries, Broder, this post is about the race.

The race:

Vick and I had to leave home really early on the morning of the race. Armed with Pop Tarts and bottled Starbucks Frappaccinos (breakfast of champions), we departed before sunrise on Sunday for Worcester. We were pumped up and ready to run. I tuned the radio to the terrible music that my high school students used to demand in the background as they worked on their labs. I sang along for maximum effect, and I could tell, Vick was ready to get out and start running (away from me... but hey, whatever works).

Our main motivation for finishing the half? Food. For the past 3 months, we've been denying ourselves some of our favorite things to eat. Over and over we fantasized about that moment, as soon as the race was done, that we could treat our bellies to the food of our dreams... sigh. Those sweet dreams of chocolate-chip pancakes, waffles with strawberries, ice cream, milk shakes, pizza....Clearly we have the appetite of seven-year-olds. Don't judge.

By the time we got to our two-mile marker, I knew we were running too fast. Pacing ourselves at over a minute-per-mile faster than we trained put us at risk of losing steam before the end. I almost slowed Vick down on a few occasions, but then I thought, "pancakes soon." And I kept pace.

Around Mile 7 I thought my fears had been confirmed. Suddenly, Vick slowed down. Not to a walk, but close. I looked over my left shoulder, and yelled, "hey?". No response. His headphones were in. He couldn't hear me. Eyes gazing upwards, he wasn't even looking at me. I slowed down, too, and poked him. "HEY?!". His eyes dropped to meet mine. "Yeah?". "You ok? Speed up?", I said. "Oh," he said, "sorry, I was reading that billboard. It's all about Einstein!" I pulled on his arm, and he sped up again. Nerdface.

Wait, why didn't anyone tell me that Worcester was hilly??? At one point, I looked up to a neighborhood on a hill, and said "Vick, I hope we don't go up there." Next thing we knew, we were on our way up an endless incline to that very neighborhood. So not fair.

We ran a few miles at 9:40. I didn't complain (pancakes), but I got really scared when I saw him grab his side. Fortunately, he was just clutching for his MP3 player, which had mysteriously turned itself off. Thank goodness. By that point, I knew we'd make it to the pancakes.

When Mile 12 arrived, Vick and I started chatting about pancakes and waffles. A lot. He wanted waffles with strawberries, whipped cream, and ice cream. I wanted chocolate-chip pancakes with syrup. All we had to do was make it for the next 1.1 miles. Which, for some completely insane reason (waffles) Vick decided to sprint.

Hey Broder! Here comes the MOST IMPORTANT PART!

With 0.1 miles to go, Vick decided we were going to run as fast as we could. At this point, that probably wasn't so fast. But we made it, and crossed the finish line together at 2 hours and 16 minutes (I officially beat him by 1 second according to official time).

As soon as we made it across the line, I looked up and saw... Broder and Jen! They had come to rescue us and magically transport us to the nearest IHOP. YAY! Broder and Jen to the rescue! Broder drove Vick's car, with our terribly stinky bodies, to the closest IHOP, then paid for our beautiful second breakfast. Broder and Jen are the awesome!

After this, we made a brief detour to my parents house, followed by ice cream and pizza. And that's the tale of our Worcester Half Marathon experience. Then end.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

It's been a long time since my last post, so I thought I'd put up a few of my favorite things.

1. Beers
The following have received a Casey Score of 10. If you ever see them, buy them and drink them. Drink them all!

Clown Shoes Clementine - Like it sounds, this one has a very nice clementine taste. It does not, however, taste of Clown Shoes. It's a wheat beer, which makes me happy. I would pair this beer with a nice summer day. Maybe in August.

Shipyard Pumpkin - A pumpkin pie in a glass! Cinnamon-sugared rim only makes it better. In fact, I would probably take this over a slice of real pumpkin pie. Pair with Thanksgiving. 

Victory Golden Monkey - This beer is best when it's on tap. In a bottle, it gets a little sludgy and weird. On tap it's got an apricot-banana weird, but awesome, flavor. It's strong. Pair this with a rough day at work. 

Allagash White - Tasty, crisp and nice. Pair with a regular old day. Any day. Today, even. 

Troeg’s Mad Elf Belgian Strong Dark Ale - Weird name. Great, strong beer. I've only had this on tap, and with great food, served by the fabulous Ms. Shira. Pair this beer with Christmas. It's all about the angry elves. Or crazy elves. Huh, I wonder. 

Unibroue La Fin Du Monde - I drank four of these in 5 hours. I do not recommend this, unless you have a higher tolerance than I do. They are strong. Like a Golden Monkey crossed with an Allagash White. Pair with New Years Eve, and sleep in on New Years Day. 

Brouwerij Van Steenberge Piraat - This may be my favoritest of them all. Such a beautiful golden color and super yummy taste. Pair this beer with right NOW! 

Sorry for the loopiness in my descriptions. Please let me explain. This morning I ran a half marathon with a terrible head cold. My sinuses are all messed up. My throat is dry, my nose is rubbed raw,and my left ear has "Soothing Ocean Waves" on repeat. 

So... My Favorite Things...

2. Half Marathons

My favorite half marathons are the ones I've finished. I brought my total to 6 today! I've now completed a half in the following states (ranked in order of "favorite"):

a. Massachusetts - beautiful weather plus awesome company

b. Connecticut - very pretty, not hilly, nice weather

c. Maine - very pretty, not too hilly

d. Florida - fast, no hills, stress fracture

e. California - rainy and cold, slow

f. New Hampshire - hot, humid, hilly, bronchitis 


As you have just read, today's half marathon is my favorite so far... and here's why. 


3. Best Ever Favorite Favoritest

(Sap Alert) 

Vick 

My husband, Vick, ran this half marathon with me. Before training for this half marathon, he had run up to 8 miles, but not continuously (lots of walking breaks). He's in his 3rd and final year of residency, which means he's working a crazy schedule with little sleep and mounting responsibilities. He's been doing boat loads of paperwork to get his license and begin his fellowship. He's been studying like crazy for his board exams. Yet, he made the time to train with me for the past 12 weeks. He only took one week off because he was working nights in the ICU. 


During our training, we maintained a 11:30-mile pace in all of our long runs. Today, I let him set the pace. Not only did he run the 13.1 miles continuously, he blew his training speed out of the water! We finished in 2 hours and 16 minutes, which gave us an average of a 10:20 mile. 


We shared a lot of moments over the race today. Together we cursed hills and laughed at my nasty running nose. We high-fived like dorks at every mile marker, and we even sprinted for the final .1 miles. This, by far, was the most fun race I've ever run. With him at my side, time flies. I'm glad I married him, and now he's stuck with me. Muahahaha. 


Congrats Vick! You've done good!!!

LuLu & George... "I surrender!"

My leg is hurting today, and I haven't had nearly enough beer in the past month (2! That's all! Just 2!). So I'm grumpy.

It's been called to my attention that I haven't posted for a while, so I feel compelled to do so. However, since I'm angry at my leg and don't have much to talk about in the way of beer, I'll spend this post on an entirely new subject.

This post was inspired by George, who is currently cuddling with me on the couch. And who just let out a big, loud, stinky fart.

And LuLu, my chihuahua/terrier/ROUS mix, who is underneath the dining room table, shaking and nervously licking a hole in the carpet. Probably because I just had a conversation with Vick about doing our taxes... or because the Bachelor finale is on tonight.

LuLu and George are quite the pair. They are polar opposites in pretty much every imaginable way. LuLu is high-strung, while George is inevitably asleep under a pillow. George doesn't care much for running or other cardiovascular exercise, while LuLu will pull me along for a 5-mile run day after day. George has fur... just sayin'. No offense, LuLu.

One thing they agree on is the tastiness of a rancid bag of garbage. Right after we got married, we took almost all of our gift money, and headed to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to buy one of those super-expensive, reinforced, fancy kitchen trashcans. I mean, seriously, with the money we paid for it, it should be able to walk itself outside on trash pick-up days.

My parents, reasonable and dog-free people, do not have an armored trashcan. Last Saturday, when my dogs were visiting their grandparents, we forgot to move the trash to higher ground when we left the house, and their trash was obliterated. We came home to a sea of garbage stretching halfway down one hallway, across the kitchen, and all over the living room.

There were eggshells ground into the carpets. Bits of paper towels. Wrappers. Grape stems. And a mysterious white substance.

That mysterious white substance is, two days later, still all over George's face. It's like he dipped his big, dumb face and floppy ears into white paint. (Note: it may, in fact have been white paint, as my mother is currently repainting the house... but she has no recollection of throwing any paint in the trash).

LuLu, not covered in white substance, looked innocent! Except that she had rolled over on her back, tail-between legs, shaking so hard that you could almost hear the floor vibrate.

Proof of her guilt would come a day later. On our 3.5 mile run. Paper towels don't digest well. But, for about 3 miles, it was like she had a little white "I-surrender" flag following her around. G-ross. 

“Bulimia Shots” or “Beer is my Friend”

Last night, I went out for happy hour with my work ladies. It was a very important week for a few in the group, as two of them are moving on to bigger and better things.

I had not planned to stay late, but at 7pm I decided that it would be nice to toast one of them with a round of shots. As I do not drink shots, or know what they are called, I asked Shira to order them for me. I said, “Psst, Shira, can you order the girliest shot you can think of?”

Shira did exactly what I asked her to do. The shots were sweet and pink. I’m also pretty sure they were made of bulimia. Now that’s “girlie”.

Within five minutes of downing the bulimia shot I had unbearable heart burn. Five minutes after that, the pukefest began. I made Vick drive me home as quickly as possible and had him pull over a few times along the way. Beautiful. I know I was worried that beer would keep me from fitting into my pants, but this wasn’t the solution I had anticipated.

Mind you, I only had 2 beers between 5:15 and 7pm. This was not my body purging my system because of over-intoxication. This was a bodily rebellion against froofy drinks.

It occurs to me that this has happened to me once before. I had a single Mai Tai at a different restaurant, and my stomach turned inside-out. Perhaps I am allergic or hypersensitive to a preservative in some sour mixes. That is Dr. Vick’s hypothesis, at least.  

Which leads me the solution: I will stick to beer. Beer is safe. Beer is my friend.  

Poor Vick!

I know it's too early to start thinking about my next half marathon. I'm still in a boot!

But... My next orthopedics appointment is Feb 15th, and I'm hoping she'll tell me I'm good to go as long as I take it slow.

Taking it slow means that I take a full 12 weeks to train, plus a few weeks to regain muscle in my atrophied leg. That puts me in... June. Early June. June 5th. What do you know! There's a race on June 5th in Worcester, MA! That's awfully close, AND I haven't done a Massachusetts race yet.

It's working out perfectly.

And it gets even better! Vick's schedule over the next few months is going to be much lighter than it's been for the past 3 years. Somehow over text messages today, I convinced him that he should run with me! AMAZING.

Now that it's in my blog, it's official. There's no turning back now! Three Cheers for Vick!!!

Update. 

A response to Shira's comment:

Dear Shira,

I have been teaching sex ed for quite a while now. I'm pretty sure that a text message that says, "Am scared, but yes?" is definitely consent.

Love,
Casey