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Silly Cat Pictures

10/22/2014

Come over to our house these days and it's likely you'll find yourself knee-deep in white, fluffy fur. Our little melons are eating their weight in kitty kibble and growing like weeds.

I fear one day the house will be overrun by massive, giant cats. We'll be powerless to stop them because of their behemoth size. I mean, right now, they are everywhere. Every time I turn around, there's a cat.

There's a cat in the sink.

There's a cat on a shelf.

There's a cat on my kid.

Sometimes there's a cat on a cat.

Just laying on the couch is an invitation to have your head sat on. Sure, I'd love to share my pillow...

Even when you want a little privacy, there's a good chance a cat will be there.

Cats have nine lives, so they have no problems eating the computer wires.

Even as I was typing this blog entry, the cats were present.

Always watching.

Waiting.

Plotting.

(help!)

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The Inevitable Letdown

10/17/2014

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The marathon is over.

::sigh::

Just like with childbirth, I think three days post-event is the hardest. The endorphins have dissipated, your Facebook is strangely quiet, and all that's left are some vague aches and pains.

I've hit the Inevitable Letdown.

In the last three days, I relived the race to anyone within earshot. I talked about the crazy mariachi guy spraying runners with a hose in Pilsen. That couple dressed as bananas on Broadway. The guys twirling rifles in Boys Town, and all the spectators who offered hard candy, popsicles, and even set up tables with goodies for us. I scoured the race's website and crunched the numbers -

Official time: 4:14:33
Overall place: 16,550/40,567 (40%)
Place Gender: 5311/18,389 (28%)
Place Age Division: 890/2953 (30%)

- and wondered if I could have gone faster if my legs were a bit more rested, if that pack I was in was a tad faster. I thought about crossing the finish line, finding my mom, how good that beer tasted on Sunday night. Man, it was fun.

::sigh::

Yesterday, I paid bills. Changed the kitty litter. Swept the kitchen floor. At one point, I pressed my face against the window, admiring the lovely fall weather and wished desperately I could lace up my shoes because it was just so perfect out there. I caught myself looking at runners in my neighborhood with envy as I drove around doing errands. I had to suffer through early morning dark runs; these lucky cats are out at 10am! And it's a luxurious 72 degrees.

Jerks.

It is also not insignificant that the Inevitable Letdown coincides with the arrival of Marathon Fotos in your inbox.

I opened mine with great anticipation only to find a horrible, hideous group of the most unflattering photos of myself ever taken.

Oh holy crap, why did I think that tank top was flattering? I felt much...thinner. Is my face really that puffy? What is wrong with my right eye? Good god, am I ugly. Why does it look like I'm walking? ...that's an odd expression. I didn't even know my face could do that. Where is the finish line photo? They missed my finish!

Argh. Curse you, Marathon Foto. At least I don't have to shell out $8,000 on silly photos, since they made that decision easy for me.

I coped by eating four pieces of cold pizza for breakfast. That was a mistake. I should have stopped at three.

Life feels very quiet now. What am I going to do tomorrow morning? No long run. No pasta party tonight, that's for sure. Crap, I could potentially have a glass of wine, guilt-free. That's just...weird.

Suddenly, I don't know what to do with my hands.

So...LA in MARCH?!

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Back Home

10/14/2014

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You know the hardest part about running a marathon?

The anticipation.

I realized this as I sat huddled in a ball on a step in the lobby of the Chicago Hilton on Sunday morning. I was trying to make myself as small as possible due to the utter chaos erupting around me. I had stumbled into the lobby, desperate to get out of the nerve-wracking silence of my room, only to find the exact opposite happening. It was still too cold to line up in our corrals, so runners were nervously chattering, stretching, eating bananas, and just about climbing the walls in those early pre-race hours. Not knowing anyone and not really interested in meeting a new friend, I found six inches of space on a step in the lobby and listened to the cacophony around me. Once again, similar to the start of the ultra, I found myself pondering, "How the hell did I end up here?" Seventeen hundred miles from home surrounded by ten thousand strangers. The tiny pancake I managed to choke down forty-five minutes earlier churned uncomfortably in my stomach. I realized in that moment I had NO IDEA what to do next. Stay? Go? Drink water? Find a bathroom? Why don't marathons comes with instruction manuals?

And then, like a beacon from God, I saw my salvation.

They came in the form of the Ethiopian running team.

A group of the tiniest people I've ever seen, clad in bright yellow track suits with green lettering paraded confidently through the masses to the doors. If they think it's time to line up, well, I'm guessing they know what they are doing. So I sprinted off my perch and joined the official Ethiopian running team for exactly six minutes. We walked across the street together, all 5'6" of blond me, towering next to their 5'0" frames. They looked like little birds. I smiled, they smiled back. Friends!

And that's essentially how my Chicago Marathon started.

It was one of those days when everything just kind of fell into place. I had read a book on the plane ("Finding Your Zone" by Dr. Michael Lardon) that strongly advocated to turn off your brain and trust your instincts. "Those who think do not know. Those who know do not think," the chapter starts, baffling me to no end. This is counterintuitive to everything I've been taught, believing our brains can wrestle through any situation. C'mon! We are the apex predator out there. Our supercomputer brains made it possible. But Dr. Lardon's advice was eerily similar to what Reinier has been telling me for years, which is in running, overthinking the situation results in disaster. I was determined to put this odd advice into practice - now or never - and finally trust my body over my brain. For someone with an incredibly limited sports background but a highly educated brain, this was the least comfortable thing ever.

::deep breath::

My new friends broke off to head to the Elite corrals while I joined my midpackers in Corral F. Lining up with FIVE THOUSAND people, knowing this is only one of nine corrals, is indescribable. Inching forward as we waited for our wave to be called, runners started ripping off layers. Thousands of sweatshirts flew over my head to the other side of the fence. People shook out body parts nervously. I noted some tears (mine included). Now or never.

Now or never.

In our pre-race phone call, Reiner shocked me with some pacing strategy. "Keep it between 9:30 and 10 minute miles for the first half," he said. "Then pick it up for the next six or so, dropping down between 9:30 and nine minutes. And then just go all out for the last. I want to see a negative split [running the second half of the race faster than the first.] This will give you a finish of around 4:10, 4:20, which is a very respectable finish." This, again, was totally opposite than what I was planning to do. I wanted to start with 9:00/miles, and then try as hard as I could after mile 20, knowing it was going to be horrifically painful. I like the idea of banking time early in the race to make up for the slowness that happens in the later miles. Be proactive, my brain yelled! Bank time! Ignore him! it shouted. Do I listen? Do I do my own thing? This argument waged in my brain for 48 hours pre-race, leaving me to jot down several different race scenario splits until I got frustrated and overwhelmed and crumpled up the paper in disgust.

I will tell you, it is VERY hard running slower than you want. Well, after the first mile. In that first one, I could not get over how tired my legs felt. What? Dead. Lead. Heavy. Despite my tapering, I had been walking -- too much -- in the last few days. Into Chicago, through the expo, around the hotel. And the crowds - holy cow! I was elbow-to-elbow with other runners for that first mile. We had to squeeze together to get through Lower Wacker and people were tripping over each other, stepping on heels, etc. It was an incredible amount of energy to expend in the first mile, all of which yielded no good results. Men had already stopped to pee against the concrete pillars down there, making me shake my head. It's mile 1, dudes. Maybe having external genitalia is just too tempting? As in, the need to pee on everything?

Weird.

My watch read 10:02 after that first mile. And then my brain promptly burst into flames.

Mile 2: 8:48. Talk about overcompensation.

And then, I put my body to use and turned off my brain. I settled into the most comfortable pace I could manage, averaging between 9:20 and 9:33 for the next ten miles. I leaned back, pushed my shoulders down, and tried to relax. Let it go, channeling my inner Kerry.

It worked.

By the time I got the West Loop around mile 13, I felt like I could run forever. Had a friend been there, we could have easily been chatting this whole time. This pace wasn't my idea, but it seemed to be working. And even though my brain was screaming at me to "Run FASTER!" I simply ignored it. Body first. At mile 14, I will pick it up.

And amazingly, my body responded. Miles 14-18 stayed between 9:04 and 9:33. I still felt good! A slight cramp in my left foot popped up, but I told myself to check it out again in three miles. It mysteriously went away in those 28 minutes. I grabbed water and Gatorade at every station, stayed consistent with my gel intake, and tried not to think too far ahead. By chopping up the race into such manageable goals, I realized it was flying by. Too fast. I was actually having...fun.

The dreaded Mile 20 loomed in front of me but physically I still felt good. This was weird. Mile 18-20 in the Vegas full marathon was torture - and that whole race felt like it lasted forever. I mean, I could write entire novels based on single miles of that race. But today, this race was slipping by. Nothing noteworthy had happened, nothing except that first mile and the guys peeing on the wall. I was just running. And it was fun.

By mile 21, I felt good enough to pick up my speed. That silly ultra, as much as I've complained and cursed it in recent weeks, suddenly made sense. My mental toughness, as painful as it was to develop, kicked in. Five meager miles to go. I'm not wearing a head lamp. It's not uphill. Dude, I can do this in my sleep. Where are the glowing wigs? And that police car I could never reach? Instead, I had thousands of spectators frantically bashing cowbells, screaming and yelling all in broad daylight. I felt like a rock star. One woman's sign read, "I don't know you, but you inspire me." Tears popped into my eyes. I wanted to stop and tell her about "Born to Run" (she can do this too!) but of course, I just kept running.

I'm proud to say mile 21 was 9:39. Just as strong as the first half.

At mile 22, we ran into a situation I did not anticipate.

Remember, I was in the second wave, corral F. Approximately 20,000 runners had already passed through this very spot. That's a lot of Gatorade to hit the pavement, and just as many empty cups to clean up. But inexplicably, the race coordinators thought it was smart to offer food at this station in the form of bananas, still in their peels.

Put that one together.

Runners + banana peels + asphalt = ....no bueno.

That nice zone I had been in for 3+ hours ended abruptly. One slip on a peel reminded myself I did not have my usual coordination and if I wasn't careful, I could really end my race quickly. I tip-toed through those peels, feet sticking to the ground from the Gatorade. Maybe next year they can offer pre-peeled fruit?

At mile 23, we hit wind.

It wasn't significant - just a few miles per hour more than the rest of the race. But running into it at this place in the race hit hard. I tried to tuck in behind several other runners, but the roads opened and people spread out. I put my head down and just kept going.

Mile 22, the banana mile, was a dicey 10:06. Windy Mile 23 was 10:16.

Turning onto Michigan Avenue to mile 24 meant we lost the wind and could practically see the finish. I knew my mom would be at mile 25 wearing a bright pink vest and just knowing that gave me a tremendous boost. Reinier had told me to allow runners to pass in the early miles, stating that I would pass them in the later ones. I didn't really believe him when he said that, drawing up memories of those horrible, horrible leg cramps I experienced in miles 22-25 in the Vegas race, but once again, the dude knows his stuff. I was flying by other runners, almost with annoyance. Get out of my way! Get to the right side of the road! I've still got energy and my body hasn't shut down yet! I am a god among men! Eeeeeee!

Never saw my mom. She, however, did see me, and ran with me for a quarter of a mile screaming, "KIMBERLY!" while waving her sign. (she made me a sign!) Never registered any of this this. I just kept going.

Just after mile 25, I realized the roar of the crowd was louder than my music. In some kind of cosmic happenstance, the last song I heard before I took out my earbuds was "Back Home" by Andy Grammer, a song I was desperate to add to my playlist prior to leaving for the weekend. I texted several friends trying to find the name of it after hearing it on the radio.

As I cruised up Michigan Avenue, gazing at the skyline I had grown up with, I realized my place in this race was not random. I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

No matter we go, we always find our way back home.

Listen, it doesn't take a clinical psychologist to figure out why I started running. Looking at the crowds of people, men with bushy mustaches wearing Cubs gear and sipping coffee from mugs under this beautiful blue October sky, I knew in that moment my dad was really, really proud of me.

800 meters to go.

400.

200.

And done.

4:14:33.

I think I actually yelled, "I just ran the Chicago Marathon!" as I crossed the finish line. I hobbled to the mylar blanket area. I accepted my medal, said no to a banana (f'ing bananas) and passed on beer as well. Water? Sure. I found my mom in Grant Park and realized all of my toes were still in good shape. A Windy City miracle, indeed.

Chicago Marathon 2014

I got a chance to see friends from all parts of my life during the rest of the weekend, from high school to college and beyond. What I didn't expect was to make some new ones. On Sunday night, after having dinner with my dear friend Liz, I realized I couldn't go back to the quietness of my room. So I headed to the only place I could think of: the Irish bar at the Hilton. There, no less than three people started conversations with "So, you've read 'Born to Run' right?" causing me to snort with laughter.

I grinned like a fool, sipped a Green Line, and realized this was the happiest group of beat-up, mangled individuals I'd ever been a part of.

I was home.

Oh, and Scott Jurek says hi.

I never claimed to have a poker face.

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Chicago by the Numbers

10/9/2014

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# of days until the Chicago Marathon: 2

# of "World Marathon Majors" in the, well, world: 6

(the others are NY, Boston, Berlin, London and Toyko)

# of expected runners at the Chicago Marathon: 45,000

# of expected spectators: 1 MILLION

(wrap your head around that...I can't...)

# of feet in total elevation gain: 20

(now imagine Kim clicking her heels together in great joy)

# of world records set on the Chicago course: 4

# in hours of the fastest time set by a male in Chicago: 2:03

(by Dennis Kimetto in 2013. He just smashed the world record again in Berlin by running a 2:02 marathon. Dude's got legz.)

# of minutes per mile running at this pace: 4:43

# in hours of the fastest time set by a female in Chicago: 2:17

(set by gold medalist Paula Radcliffe in 2002)

# of minutes per mile running at this pace: 5:14

# in hours of the average finish time in 2013: 4:32

# of minutes per mile running at this pace: a very reasonable 10:03

# in hours it will take me to finish: TBD!

                                    **************

# of times I've looked at the weather forecast since last Friday: 27

# of times it has changed: 27

# of texts Tanya sent me wearing her cold weather gear, ready to ship it to Nevada in the event we were dealing with snow: 13

# amount of gratitude I felt towards her: immeasurable

# of times rain has been in the forecast: 4

# of times I've cursed my traction-less shoes: 4

# of laps I took around Willows Park on Sunday morning when the sprinklers were on, in an attempt to practice in the water: 5

# of weird looks received: 3

(whatever, folks)

# of times I slipped: 0

(success!)

                                      ***************

# of days until I leave: 0

# of times I've worried Brian is going to get another kidney stone and/or accidentally burn down the house: 4

Amount I'm going to miss my guys: too vast to describe

How I'm going to resolve that sadness? Two words: ROOM SERVICE

# in minutes spent daydreaming about having a hotel room ALL TO MYSELF on Michigan Avenue: 22

# of minutes spent on the phone, being laughed at by a hotel employee when I very naively asked him if a.) their room service is 24 hours (it is not...?) and b.) if they carry non-dairy milk: 2

                                       ***************

# of days I've had a fever over 100 degrees: 2

# of times I've Google'd "Symptoms of Ebola": 1

# of times I've told myself the unexplained increase in temperature is just my body's way of 'revving the engine' for Sunday morning: 3

# of Tablespoons of Manuka honey consumed since Monday night: 5

# of packets of Thera-flu consumed: 2

# of times I've told myself, "Suck it up, buttercup, because you are running. Rain, snow, sick, healthy, or with Ebola. You are getting over that finish line": too many to count.

                                            ***************

And with that, I'm off! I'm sure whatever goes down this weekend will be blog-worthy, as usual. Just a note to all the first-time marathoners toeing the line this weekend - Amy, Tracy, Tami, Kerri - best of luck! You've put in all the work, now this is the fun part. Enjoy the experience!!

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A Hearty Soup for this Chilly Weather

10/2/2014

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The weather here in Vegas is changing...high of 84 today. Brr.

Which can mean only one thing:

Time to make some soup, y'all.

My run on Sunday (last 20-miler of the year!) started freakishly late - it was almost 6:30 by the time I finally got to Red Rock. That's like, lunchtime. But the cooler weather means the sun is no longer my enemy and I even left the headlamp in the car. Of course, I also forgot the sunscreen (what is this strange warm light hitting my shoulders?) which resulted in a gnarly bit of burning, but you can't win 'em all. By the time I got home, I was a toasty little critter but happily not overheated.

Back to the soup.

That night, I knew I needed a good recovery food that was high in good carbs, had some healthy greens and protein in it, as well as something higher in sodium to replace the electrolytes lost during my run. Because of my sensitive stomach issues post-run, the less chewing, the better. Soup seemed like the best option. Plus, I was staring down the barrel of my last and final week of hard training before Chicago: an 8 miler plus boot camp on Monday, 7 miles of speed work on Tuesday, Hill Day on Wednesday, and finally, an easy 8 on Thursday. If there's one thing I've learned through all of this, it's the better and cleaner your diet, the faster you'll recover.

So I broke out the soup cauldron and started sharpening my knives.

Brian had gotten me a copy of "No Meat Athlete" by Matt Frazier for my birthday, not knowing I follow him on Facebook and adore his website of the same name. The book starts with a great description of what plant-based eating is all about then follows with tons of recipes that are totally doable, even for the most basic chef. I like the fact that Matt is an athlete with similar goals, not to mention quotes and cites multiple sources that I've either read or researched. (Hi Scott Jurek!) Plus, he's not trying to recreate meat dishes, which is a pet peeve of mine. I don't want to eat a bunch of fake meat alternatives or inhale a bunch of soy sausage. He lets the veggies and legumes shine, which I appreciate. "No Meat Athlete" is a great book even for non-plant based eaters and/or non runners. It's just good, healthy food (with a convenient training guide in the back, in the event the spirit moves you to lace up your sneakers). It's one that will be in my kitchen for a long time to come. Happy to report, I've already christened it with some errant tomato sauce. Amen!

Sunday night seemed like the right time to try his "Hearty Chick Pea Pasta Soup" and man, it was phenomenal. In fact, no only did I have a big bowl, but my carnivorous husband did as well. And he loved it. I'm not kidding, this soup is a like a red blood cell's dream; so much yummy iron-rich ingredients, all in a Vitamin-C absorption-heavy tomato-veggie broth. Best of all, it's just a chop-and-throw kind of recipe (my favorite) made in one big pot. If you like pasta e fagioli, you'll love this. And it's perfect for this chilly fall weather.

Hearty Chickpea Pasta Soup
by Matt Frazier, the No Meat Athlete

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 celery ribs, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp fresh rosemary, finely chopped
1 cup any tomato sauce*
6 cups vegetable stock**
1 can chick peas, drained and rinsed
1 bunch kale, torn into bite-size pieces, coarse stems removed (Dino
kale or lacinato works best)
4 ounces whole wheat linguine, broken into 1-2 inch pieces
1 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp fresh ground black pepper

Heat the oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion, celery, garlic, and 1 teaspoon of the rosemary and cook until the veggies are soft and translucent, about 5 minutes.

Add the tomato sauce, vegetable stock, and chick peas, and bring to a boil. Add the kale and after about 5 minutes, add the pasta and stir occasionally (this is assuming your pasta will take 7-8 minutes to cook). If you are using pasta that takes 12-15 minutes, add the pasta when you add the kale). When the pasta is al dente, remove the soup form the heat and season with salt and pepper.

Garnish with the remaining teaspoon of fresh rosemary. Enjoy!

Yields: about 6 servings

* - you can make your own tomato sauce (also featured in Matt's book). Simply blend a 28 oz jar of tomatoes in a food processor for a minute (leave some chunks if you'd like), and simmer over low heat with 1/4 cup olive oil and 1/4 tsp sea salt for about 20 minutes. This made two cups, so I used the remaining sauce when we made homemade pizza on Monday night.

** - you can also make your own vegetable stock! I boiled 6 cups of water, then added 2 tablespoons of organic "Better than Bouillon" base until dissolved. This made a very salty broth (what I was looking for), so if you are looking to decrease sodium, only use one tablespoon.

Thanks Matt!

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Silly Cat Pictures

The Inevitable Letdown

Back Home

Chicago by the Numbers

A Hearty Soup for this Chilly Weather

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