Clear and reboot

Sometimes, you need to hit the reset button.

Sometimes, you don't realize just how much you need to hit the reset button.

This was one of those times.

I spent this past weekend with friends in an unhurried town in upstate New York. The type of town where you go to the supermarket and bump into friends and maybe make a handshake deal on that work you need done on your roof. Where the columnist of the local paper reports on her bridge games as news.

Two friends have a house there, which they have dubbed the Mouse House due to it being a series of smallish rooms. They bought it a couple of years ago as an escape from NYC, and have spent a lot of time lovingly renovating (some of it through those handshake deals as mentioned above). With the help of friends, professionals, and probably lots of pizza/beer (or maybe lovely home cooked meal/wine) paychecks, the have restored a previously unusable barn into a loft and music studio space. Thanks to a lot of paint and an eye for detail, the inside of the house is transformed into a warm and welcoming space.

There is no TV. There is no cell phone service. There is a brief sloping descent for sledding. It is a small slice of heaven.

The weekend consisted of the aforementioned sledding, eating really great food, sitting by the wood burning stove, making really strong coffee, eating some more, playing with one of the cutest babies on the planet, puzzle building, boggle playing, and general lethargy.

I made it out running early one morning - even when on vacation I can't help but wake up at 7am, and managed to go for miles with only one moving car sighting. Mostly it was rolling hills, a few dogs hanging out in their respective yards, and snow. It was a slow run, as I was more focused on looking all around and letting my mind go blank temporarily.

Our friends daughter, Baby E, is getting to be a real little kid. She is on the verge of turning 1, and on the verge of walking. She still likes to hold onto a finger or two of an adult to help with balance, but every once in a while she'll strike out on her own. She and I spent a lot of time examining sticks from the kindling pile. She was generous with her time amongst all the adults, playing with anyone that would pick up an instrument from her Be Bop Band playset, or make a funny face, or help her buzz about the house.

On the way home P and I routed through Scranton, PA to go to Wegmans. While 40 miles out of the way (which, in the overall travel mileage, was small, really), it was totally worth it. We *heart* Wegmans. The whole experience of it, really. Those who don't generally associate the word "experience" with the word "supermarket" have never been to Wegmans.

In particular, we made our way to the mighty Weg for their brand of crunchy peanut butter. I'll save that story for another day. In short, we are now happily restocked!

Man, transitioning back into the work world was a bitch. You have all of these memories in your head, but to your coworkers you are no different. Except maybe a little cranky for having to be there. :)

Our next extended trip is in a few weeks. I. Can. Not. Wait.

So much, so early

I think there is a story a minute for everyone, if you take the time to notice. This morning was packed with little stories.

I went to a local diner before work to meet up with a friend. As it is Thursday, I picked up the free local paper (which comes out every Thursday) to see what was going on in town. Every time I read through it, I have hope for Manchester.

As I sat and read, and sat and read, and sat and read, it became clear that my friend wasn't going to show up. Normally this might make me a little sad. But I had my paper, I was in a great local spot, the people watching was fantastic, and I was happy to just be there. So much so that I pondered making this a Thursday ritual. I ordered some peanut butter pancakes and had a lovely solo meal.

About 10 seconds after getting back to my car and pulling away from the curb, a woman flagged me down. Upon rolling down my window, she asked if I could give her a ride, saying she'd twisted her knee and was having trouble walking. The fleeting thought of "what if she's an axe murderer or thief" passed through my head (I am so well trained), but it's really cold out, and she wasn't carrying anything like an axe. She didn't even have a winter coat on. So I told her sure, I'd give her a ride (I guess I'm only so well trained).

She got in the car, favoring her left knee and gave me directions on where she needed to go. It was just up the street, and I pretty much knew off the bat that she simply didn't want to walk in the cold. Can't blame her. She smelled of stale smoke, and hopped from one topic to another, trying to both make small talk and justify the need for a ride. I small talked back. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, minus the stale smoke smell, which clings to everything.

Getting out the car, she favored her right knee, and commened that she'd lost 20 pounds. I guess that is one way to say goodbye... And off I went, back on my way to work. The whole exchange took maybe seven minutes. I have a feeling I am not the first to act as her taxi.

And now I am at work. Trying to get enthused, with a modicum of success. A colleague actually thanked me today for one of the projects I've been working on (which, to my wife's chagrin, has been the subject of many dinnertime conversations). Thank you is used all too sparingly around here. It's more about trying to avoid blame, which seems like a fairly toxic way to interact.

So that is my morning thus far. This evening I'm heading to the gym to run, as it is too windy outside to hit the streets. I got new sneakers recently, which are sort of a bright pink/orange (hey, they were on sale, and they were exactly the style I wanted). So I'll neon my way through a few miles. I have a 10 mile race coming up in about 1.5 months, and my entire goal is to beat a 10 minute mile. In the short term, I'm trying for a few sub-10 minute mile runs in the next month. They won't be 10 miles long, but it'll be good practice. I'm defninitely a bit of a turtle. A happy turtle, but a turtle nonetheless.

Metaphors run wild

I have been meaning to post for days... Lots of little things going on that are worth pausing and writing about. No excuse aside from laziness. I am heading on a sub-24 hour trip to Florida tomorrow, and hopefully I'll find some peace and quiet on the plane to gather my thoughts.

In the interim, I thought I would post a small essay I put together a while ago. It is related to running, which is one of the reasons I started this blog. I think it explains some of why I like the activity. If nothing else, it underscores the fact that it is one of the few places that I can follow a single thought for an extended period of time. Definitely something to be said for that!

On the running note, I ran 10 miles yesterday. In the snow, on one of my favorite trails. It was totally great, even if my left hip is predictably sore today. Oh, and I forgot to apply Glide to the chafe-prone parts, which was a mistake. Ouch.

Thus, without further introduction, some things I have learned from (or while) running:

1. It’s never too late to start: I hated running as a kid, even though I was a multi-sport athlete. It always seemed boring and lonely. I didn’t start to consider it as an option until I was well into my 20s, and then I wondered if I was too old to start. I finally let all of that go and went out the door.

2. I can do anything: When I first started running, I only ran after dark, as I was embarrassed at my lack of speed and endurance. I also started in the early winter, as I knew less people would be around. I had to work hard to run for 30 minutes without stopping. I knew that if I just kept at it, I would eventually get there. I came to believe that if I could achieve this small goal, I could achieve anything. I think about that every time I pass the 30 minute mark, which at this point is routine.

3. No one else is going to run for you: Even if they did, it would be of no benefit to you. There are many things in life that we can task out, but there will always be things we must do on our own. These are generally the things that impact us most personally.

4. If you keep your eyes open, you’ll see something new. Something always happens that makes it worthwhile. I can’t predict when it will happen, but inevitably it does. Usually it is something small – seeing two ducks pair in the spring, watching a new flower bloom, smelling the trees. Even when I run indoors there is something unique. With practice, you start to stay alert to see what the world will offer up that day.

5. Use what you’ve got. I am not a fast runner. I do not aspire to run a marathon. I’ve tried these things and hurt myself. Only after pushing myself to the point of injury did I allow the possibility that setting limits and sticking to them is just as good as running the Boston marathon with a sub-8 mile time.

6. Even a task I don’t enjoy can turn into something good: I always dislike the first five minutes of a run. This hasn’t changed in all the years I have taken to running as a regular activity. I often think I should just give up, that this isn’t a good day to run, that I am to tired, etc. etc. Then I remind myself that I always hate the first five minutes, and I just try to stay patient until – before you know it – I am past the initial doubts.

7. If you can’t stay still, then move. Regardless of how distracted or stressed I feel prior to tying my laces and hitting the road, I always feel calmer and happy afterwards. Knowing this has saved me from myself on a number of occasions.

8. Sometimes, it is all in your head: Inevitably, some of your energy is depleted on any given run. Many times I tell myself I should stop for a minute, even though I know that this will only make it harder to start again. However, if I take the time to listen to my body, I can tell whether it is my muscles that are tired, or just my mind that wants to give in. I often find that my mind doesn’t give my body the credit it deserves, and I can continue without much effort. Being mindful about what is really going on makes the difference.

9. Effort takes effort: I may have improved my skills over the years, but running still makes me tired. As obvious as it is, it didn’t dawn on me immediately that running should make you expend energy every time you do it. The very act of running takes energy. Understanding that fatigue happens, and that you can still keep going regardless was an important factor in helping me to enjoy even the days that didn’t seem all that fun.

10. Persistence pays off: The simple act of one foot in front of another, when repeated, gets you far.


If you have any others you think I should add, please share!

Much better now

I didn't hit my 6 mile goal, but whatever. I feel much better. It was one of those days that I knew in my soul that I wanted to be anywhere else but the office, but didn't leave. Man, was I in a rotten mood.

Once I hit the pavement I started feeling like me again.

I ran a nice little 4.5 mile loop that I can easily increase to 6 or 8 if I'm feeling a desire to run about a bit more. I like loops. There were a bunch of people out on the route, which surprised me. I am generally the only person I see out running whenever I am in the streets of Manchester. I guess I haven't been running around the right neighborhoods.

It is a cold, clear, and beautiful night out there. I was actually overdressed. I don't have any options for cold weather jackets aside from my soft shell, and that is a toasty little creature. By the end of the run my pockets were stuffed with my gloves and hat. I would have shoved my jacket into my jacket pocket if I could have.

Oh - Lance Armstrong (via Nike+) congratulated me for hitting the 250 mile mark. That was nice of him. He's popped in before to announce my best mile time, which is also kind.

A few minutes after arriving home, I was pleasantly surprised to find out I had screwed up P's work schedule (even though she reminded me of it last night) and she was actually coming home. Things are always better when she's around. For example: I had planned on eating potato chips for dinner, but with her home I was insipred to cook. I didn't cook for her, mind you, but I was a little embarrased to eat cheddar and sour cream chips when she was right there... It was good all around.

We watched the L Word. Again, what a dumb show. There was one kinda sweet moment when Bette gives a soliloquy about her boss (played by an overly plastic surgeoned Cybill Shepard), but that was about it for any sort of genuine dialogue.

I noticed that the lesbian night at The Planet was on Thursdays. That has been my experience in real life - at least in Boston. Is that a universal thing?

Finally, snow!

A beautiful day to get out and play in it. This morning I went running on the rail trail I frequent. I am learning that as the winter sets in, my normal parking spots shift as well. In the warmer months I park in a lot that is somewhat hidden and generally used as a boat launch. Apparently the launch is shut down come December, as I discovered when I went to turn in and was presented with a bright orange metal rod blocking the way. So I moved into the public parking spot about .5 miles away. My attempt to park there today was thwarted with another orange rod. So, with my seat heat turned to four (out of five), and the snow continuing to fall, I continued on down the road to find a new spot. After traveling down the slippery road for a mile or two and finding nothing, I came back to where I started and noticed a lot across the street... Parked there and prepped for a snowy trail run.

Many think that one of the most attractive aspects of running is the low entry price. All you need is a decent pair of shoes and you are off to the races. While true to a certain extent, this adage only takes you so far when the mercury drops. Cotton becomes the enemy, and the magic of high tech fabrics show they are worth the extra bucks it takes to purchase. Good socks are also a lifesaver, keeping your feet warm even when he snow slips in and turns to water...

That said, I'd like to take a moment to say thank you to my gear. Thank you socks. Thank you pants. Thank you vest (it's inaugural use!). Thank you shirt, which I have worn on basically every outdoor run in the past month. Thank you shoes. Thank you hat. Thank you gloves which, while only worn temporarily, were much appreciated before I was warm enough to stow them away. And, of course, thanks to the Nike+ gadget, which has been my training partner for months.

Does that make me a gear loving geek? Probably, but whatev. I love the stuff, and it kept me not too hot, not too cold. A Goldilocks moment, if you will.

After all that, I posted my best long run to date. Stats as follows:

Distance: 7.03 miles

Time: 1:09:46

Average Pace: 9:55 per mile

For me, that's fast. If I run the upcoming 1/2 marathon at a 10:15 pace I'll be very, very happy. Perhaps it was the colder weather that helped, or the sheer beauty of the surroundings, which held my focus the entire time.

Running any length of time is highly therapeutic for me. It's something I do for myself, and generally alone. The solitary nature of the activity allows me to be totally serious or totally goofy. I can listen to music that I wouldn't readily admit to having on my iPod (Shania Twain comes to mind), think about what is/is not going on in my life, or have a moment where I think the song is actually speaking to me. Yes, speaking to me... Today's lyric that caught my ear was from "Everybody Wants The Same Thing," off of the new Scissor Sisters album:

What is it that you want?
What is it that you give?
Where do you plan on finding it?
How do you want to live?

Love is what I want
Love is what I give
Right here's where I'm finding it
That's how I'm gonna live

This happened to be playing while I was running uphill in the woods, and I applied it at that moment to push me to run harder up the trail. I ignored the love part, and inserted a more general notion of carpe diem. When I got to the top of the hill, I admit I was pretty proud of myself.

Toward the tail end of the run, I saw a pair of mallards sleeping on the newly frozen lake. They didn't even budge when I ran my, perhaps because they couldn't hear my footfalls in the snow. Or maybe they were particularly tired. It was a sweet little moment, and it only underscored my feeling that every excursion has at least one moment that makes it worthwhile. That thought has yet to be disproven.

Once I got home, I showered and changed back into my pajamas. I loved being outside, and I equally love the idea of spending the rest of the day inside with the cats (P is yet again working a 30 hour shift at the hospital), doing nothing in particular. It's lovely.

Happy New Year!