June 5th, we ran our first road race – the Boston AIDS Walk and 5k. To say it was awesome would be an understatement, so allow me to be a bit more loquacious.
We woke up at 7, and got out of the house by seven thirty. Check in/registration began by the hatch shell at seven thirty, and we hadn’t paid yet. So, quick T ride to Charles/MGH on the redline, and a brisk walk to the Esplanade. We registered quickly (there were so few people there that early that we just walked up and paid), got our numbers (!!! Our first numbers!!!), and sat around, waiting for a friend/co-worker to join us. We applied lots of sunscreen, I used the bathroom repeatedly (nervous peeing), and before we knew it, we were doing giant group warm-up stretches on the grass in front of the hatch shell.
The race started promptly at 9:50. As we were walking to line up – and there were about 750 runners – the announcer said “So, 6-minute pace up front, so on and so on, you know the drill,” and I laughed because we did not know the drill at all! So we stayed at the back, and waited for the starting bell. When it came, everyone surged forward, and since we were so far back we ended up walking for the first half-minute. Finally we were on Storrow drive, and running on the street. It was amazing to see hundreds of runners all around us, all moving towards the same destination, and humbling to see everyone pass us. I knew S would be able to move faster, but my pace is just so slow right now. There were a few short hills, mostly amazing views, and before we knew it we saw the two mile marker. From about 2.5 miles to the end there were signs on the side of the track marking off years, and what had happened in history relating to AIDS in that year. So somber but celebratory – we were running towards a cure.
I kept picking fights with S throughout the race, urging him to go forward, but he wouldn’t leave me. We had trained together, so we would race together. This would be the last time we would be able to run together – I feel too guilty holding him back. I just kept kicking myself, feeling horrible that this was a GOOD time for me, but a gentle pace for him. We finished in 35’15”, which is decent for a first run. As soon as we stopped at the finish line, and walked for a minute, we both felt like we could start up again. It makes me wonder – is it better to run farther at a slower pace, or faster for a shorter amount of time? I’ll figure it out in time.. The best feeling – knowing we were running for a purpose. Second best – coming home, showering, and staging a birthday picnic with my husband and friends. That was pretty special.
A co-worker of mine asked today if I had kept running, and was pleased to learn that I had. Yesterday S and I woke early in the morning to run 3.25 (in 35 minutes!!!!) before heading to work.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Birthday extravaganza!
In honor of National Running Day (which was June 2nd), I ran my first attempt of week three of 5K 101. That’s 30 minutes of straight running, preceded and followed by five minutes of walking. I was surprised by how easy it was. Around the sixth minute I had the thought, “it’s going to be impossible to do this for a whole half hour,” but by the time I got to Harvard, I was thrilled. I made it a point to run as slowly as possible in the beginning, which was difficult, since the soundtrack for week eight is really quite invigorating. By the time Todd told me I had finished 19 minutes, I decided to push it a bit for the last ten, checking my pace every so often on my Nike+ app, which told me I was holding a 6mph pace quite steadily. I felt so good that when Todd told me I had completed my 30 minutes and could cool down, I just kept going. I ended up running for about 33 minutes, and with my warm-up walk, I covered over three miles.
I’m so pumped for the 5k S and I are running on Sunday. It’s going to be my first road race, my first 5k, my first of so many things, and I'm thrilled. I never believed I could be this person.
Tuesday was my twenty-eighth birthday, and I went to yoga to celebrate. It was an “intermediate” class at O2 Yoga, so I was a bit worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up. I’ve been to many yoga classes, but who doesn’t question themselves? So, it’s 80 degrees in Somerville, I’ve raced home from work to make this class, and I took S’s new mat with me, since mine is old and has little cushioning. As soon as we get into our first downward facing dog, I know I’m going to be struggling. My hands were so slick with sweat that I was inching forward on my mat, needing to jerk myself back every few breathes. It would have been comical if it weren’t so frustrating. About halfway through the class the instructor noted how hot it was in the room – huzzah! It’s not just me! – and apologized. She tried to turn the fan on, she tried to prop open the door, but no, I was too far away from all efforts to have it make any difference. So I sweat my way through a 75-minute class, and cooled off on my walk home, where I was met with a beautiful bouquet of ranunculus, Queen Anne’s lace, and white lilacs from S.
We capped the day with an amazing dinner at T.W. Food, a tiny restaurant in Cambridge where we had gone for dinner for his birthday two years ago.
The best memory of the dinner was dessert: for me – a strawberry gratin. Rhubarb compote on the bottom, macerated strawberries, and custard on top that had been broiled a bit. All covered with a lemon sauce – kind of a sweet/sour assault on the taste buds. For S – Scotch and Cigars – two beignets, a canelle of tobacco ice cream, doused in a scotch sauce, and a demitasse cup of ganache. Decadent. The dinner itself was a delight, with delicious bread served with fresh butter and a garnish of large-flake salt, two great appetizers and entrees, an amuse bouche, and financiers with the check.
Divine. Added to my annual birthday song from my husband, and it was an amazing day.
I’m so pumped for the 5k S and I are running on Sunday. It’s going to be my first road race, my first 5k, my first of so many things, and I'm thrilled. I never believed I could be this person.
Tuesday was my twenty-eighth birthday, and I went to yoga to celebrate. It was an “intermediate” class at O2 Yoga, so I was a bit worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up. I’ve been to many yoga classes, but who doesn’t question themselves? So, it’s 80 degrees in Somerville, I’ve raced home from work to make this class, and I took S’s new mat with me, since mine is old and has little cushioning. As soon as we get into our first downward facing dog, I know I’m going to be struggling. My hands were so slick with sweat that I was inching forward on my mat, needing to jerk myself back every few breathes. It would have been comical if it weren’t so frustrating. About halfway through the class the instructor noted how hot it was in the room – huzzah! It’s not just me! – and apologized. She tried to turn the fan on, she tried to prop open the door, but no, I was too far away from all efforts to have it make any difference. So I sweat my way through a 75-minute class, and cooled off on my walk home, where I was met with a beautiful bouquet of ranunculus, Queen Anne’s lace, and white lilacs from S.
We capped the day with an amazing dinner at T.W. Food, a tiny restaurant in Cambridge where we had gone for dinner for his birthday two years ago.
The best memory of the dinner was dessert: for me – a strawberry gratin. Rhubarb compote on the bottom, macerated strawberries, and custard on top that had been broiled a bit. All covered with a lemon sauce – kind of a sweet/sour assault on the taste buds. For S – Scotch and Cigars – two beignets, a canelle of tobacco ice cream, doused in a scotch sauce, and a demitasse cup of ganache. Decadent. The dinner itself was a delight, with delicious bread served with fresh butter and a garnish of large-flake salt, two great appetizers and entrees, an amuse bouche, and financiers with the check.
Divine. Added to my annual birthday song from my husband, and it was an amazing day.
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