The Worst Part of Training: Tapering

I hate tapering before a race.  Imagine being tied down to a chair on a railroad track with a freight train coming your way - you feel the need to flee, but you can't - except with tapering, there is no rope tying you to the chair, but you can't leave the chair!  It's basically self-imposed head torture.  My body wants to go do lots of things, lift heavy stuff, run hill repeats, SOMETHING....then I start freaking out that doing nothing is going to ruin my race, only to constantly remind myself that no, this is what you're supposed to do before a race, but then my head keeps screaming "WE NEED TO RUN!"

Instead, I get to sit here, stretch, go "easy" during my Crossfit workouts, only do short runs...I get grumpy, irritable, annoyed, and basically want to smack something/someone by the time I'm allowed to get to the starting line.

I know tapering is what has to be done before a race, but holy hell...it's always the hardest part of training.

Third Time's a Charm: Boston or Bust

So, at first I thought saying "Yes" to running the Boston Marathon next year was going to be easy.  I received the invitation from the B.A.A., parted with yet another $325, and received my confirmation.  Post to Facebook because I thought I was excited about it.

Easy, right?

No.

It's weird what causes emotional "triggers" when it comes to traumatic events like the Boston Marathon Bombings.  I think what's hard is that I've technically "run" Boston two times, but have yet to cross the finish line.

Last year (2012) was one of those "freak weather" years.  It was over 80 degrees at the start and well over 90 at the finish - oh, complete with humidity.  The B.A.A. had offered deferrals for anyone wishing to play it safe, and not run in that heat.  After a VERY long plane ride and afternoon filled with thought and contemplation, I decided to bow out.  I had trained so hard that I didn't want to run THE Boston Marathon under not-so-Boston-Marathon conditions.  I wanted to run it knowing I was putting my best foot forward.  However, I still made the trip to Boston, might as well take part in the time honored unofficial tradition of bandit running part of the course.  I lasted less than 8 miles before I started overheating and "salting out" and by mile 15, I was more than ready to go back to the hotel.

Deferring was the best decision I could have made.

Then there was 2013.  I was excited, the weather was going to be perfect, everyone on Team Red Cross was excited on the bus ride over to the start line.  And you know what, it WAS a perfect day...

Around mile 18 to apply petroleum jelly...

accidentally in front of a co-worker

Yes, for all intents and purposes, there was no doubt I was going to cross the finish line on Boylston.  I was less than a quarter mile from the finish when we were all stopped.  However, there's nothing that will ever replace the feeling of looking up at the clock as you're crossing the finish line.  Nothing compares to the feeling you get as you realized what you just did, the butterflies you get when a volunteer places that medal around your neck, or the gravity of the situation simply for being in Boston.  It's BOSTON.  When I passed the iconic Citgo sign, I started getting teary eyed, I was going to experience all of those things...it was possibly going to be the most powerful moment of my running career.

And I was less than a quarter mile from experiencing that.

So when I registered for 2014, that's all I could think about.  And when I told the wide world of Facebook that it was going to happen in 2014, the positive/kind responses were just overwhelming.  I felt like I received 100 hugs from my tribe.

OK, stepping off the emotional wagon, and stepping into my running shoes....

Barbells, Boobs, Body Image, and Balance

Let me share some numbers with you...all PRs have been achieved this week.  All "Old PRs" are my best results from my past two years at Crossfit Pacific Coast, before starting this "Sport" programming (which I have now been doing for seven weeks).

• Front Squat (Monday)
• Old PR: 110#
• New PR: 135#
• Deadlift (Monday)
• Old PR: 160#
• New PR: 200#
• Back Squat (Wednesday)
• Old PR: 145#
• New PR: 165#
• Clean (Wedesday)
• Old PR: 83#
• New PR: 105#

When I completed the Front Squat and Deadlift on Monday, I cried.  I was so proud of myself when I hit 200lbs on my deadlift because it showed I was "getting there" - I am by far the weakest person in my lifting group, but I keep trying...and hitting 200 put me one step closer to catching up to the women who are easily pulling 245lbs.

Then on Monday evening, I made the awful mistake of going swimsuit shopping...and I came home crying.

You see, I made a decision to put running on the back burner for a few months to focus on lifting.  I knew doing so would help  me become a better runner - both physically and emotionally (especially after what I went through at the Boston Marathon).  However, I have basically gone from 60 to Zero when it comes to cardio.  I'm running less than 10 miles a week, but am lifting a LOT of weight three times a week.  

I'm not getting "fat" per se, but I am building a LOT of muscle without maintaining my previous cardio levels - so while I used to have a semi - "runner's body" I now have an "I used to run, but now I lift, and my body hasn't figured out how to deal with this" body.  And that's exactly what was looking back at me in the mirror Monday evening - a body that had no idea what it wanted to look like.  Did it want to look muscular?  Did it want to look lean?  Did it want to have beautiful curves?  Well, there were no muscles, leanness or curves to be found on Monday in that dressing room, and it sucked.  

A few hours before, big numbers brought me joy, but in that moment, I had nothing "physical" to show for it.  Someone walking by me on the beach wasn't going to think I could deadlift his ass off the ground if I wanted to, those PRs had no translation to anything outside of the gym.  They suddenly became numbers on paper.

I'm writing about this not because I'm looking for sympathy or encouraging words (I really am not seeking those), but because I found myself at a crossroads where I couldn't have it all - and for us Type A Personality Women, those realizations feel like a slap to the face.  Because my body is going through a transformation, I don't have a body I love putting a dress on, alongside a body that I love for doing awesome things.   I've noticed that my bras are feeling a little more snug than they used to, my pants are a lot tighter, and some of my dresses no longer zip all the way up.  Yes, I've put on a LOT of muscle, and a little fat in the past two months.

Now onto balance.  That's what I'm going to look for.  The balance of pushing my body to do great things while being comfortable in my own skin.  It's a journey - it always is - but it's a journey that's always worthwhile.  SO even though my boobs are bigger than I'd like them to be, and my body is confused about what shape it thinks it is, I'm giving myself credit for having a significant PR on every lift I've done this week.

"Beer" Blogging - Episode 1

Blogging about beer is something I've wanted to undertake for quite a while.  There's such a sincere craft behind beer; it delivers delicious refreshment, pairs well with food, and each one is SO DIFFERENT from the next - what's not to love about beer?

So you may wonder why this is titles "Beer" Blogging.  Well, over the past year or so, I've developed a bit of a gluten sensitivity.  Yes, my beloved beer causes unsightly breakouts and bloating when drunk in moderate amounts, so instead of admitting total defeat, I decided to spin this into an opportunity.

Basically, this feels like the Quest for the Holy Grail...

Why?  Well, gluten-free (GF) beer has a bad rep in my books.  I've always viewed it as the proverbial red-headed-step-child (no offense to all the Gingers of the world) in the beer aisle.  No one really acknowledges its existence, few people give it attention, and even fewer buy it.  Most people think it's "weird"like that awkward uncle at Thanksgiving - somehow born of the same roots, yet so much not like the rest of the bunch.

So with that vision, I visited my local beer store.  There was ONE GF beer in the refrigerated section.  Because I was so set on just starting this, a six pack of New Grist came home with me...

The New Grist description is in italics, mine is not

New Grist is a one-of-a-kind beer brewed without wheat or barley: the first of its kind that can be enjoyed by those with Celiac Disease. 

Sweet - good on ya!

It is the first beer to be certified gluten-free by the US Government. 

Not sure I want the government meddling with my beer or giving it a seal of approval, but sure, I'm sure lots of people out there are cool with that.

New Grist is brewed from sorghum, rice, hops, water and yeast. These ingredients are carefully combined to form a crisp, refreshing "session ale" brewed for those on a gluten-free diet, or anyone with an appreciation for a great tasting, handmade beer.

This is where we're going to start parting ways.  While I appreciate the ability to have a cold alcoholic beverage in my hand when it's effing roasting outside, I'm not sure I have the same appreciation as you do for this "beer."  With that said, I would absolutely agree that this is an easy to drink, session-esque beverage.  Don't worry, it's miles above Zima or Smirnoff Ice in terms of a light alcoholic beverage in a beer shaped bottle.  I could easily see myself having this at the beach.

It pours a brilliant gold color, with a bubbly head and light, fruity aroma. 

I don't think I've ever poured Budweiser into a glass before, but I think Bud would look more like beer than this.  This looks a lot like a cider when poured into a glass.  Also, I couldn't find any "head" when poured.  But hey, you totally NAILED the fruity aroma!

The flavor is crisp and refreshing, fruity and smooth at the same time. Hints of green apple slice through the maltiness of the sorghum, making this an extremely quaffable beer.

I do not remember what "quaffable" means right now, but yes, this is very fruity.  I get the green apple, I even picked up on some chamomile tea-like flavors as well.  

OVERALL:

I have a hard time calling this BEER.  However, if I was to create a new category of alcoholic beverages for after work consumption, this would certainly make the list.  It's very light and sweet, but not as sweet as some ciders can get (YAY!).  So, maybe it's some weird love child of beer and cider...perhaps we can call it Bider?  As the beer warmed up a little, the "crispness" really started to fade away.  I do appreciate that it's not as carbonated as some beers get - reduced burp factor is a serious win in my book.  If I was you, I'd drink this as cold as I could, and, when it starts to warm up, add a little Sprite and make a Shandy out of it.

For the Love of Boston

This might be a very rambling post - I'm still processing what happened.

Mile 25.  My body hurts, but I'm going to make it.  I've been dreaming of these next few moments all day.  I've worked so hard and even though I started the day with a very tight back, I'm going to cross the finish line of the Boston Marathon - a dream come true.  I suddenly see Dave frantically waving on the sideline, screaming at me to stop and come over.  My first thought is, "doesn't he know I'm about to finish? I can't stop now" - but the look on his face tells me something is very, very wrong.

"honey, there was an explosion at the finish"

"an explosion?"

"yes, an explosion, people are hurt.  There's an alternate race ending....."

Then things go blurry and I start running again.  I really don't understand what he just said, so I'm trying to process it.  On the sidelines, people are still cheering, but there are people on the course.  This is the Boston Marathon, why are there people walking the wrong way on the course??  Then I see the looks on their faces.  They're crying.  They look scared, worried, confused...everything you're not supposed to look like after completing the Boston Marathon...and suddenly I ran into a wall of stopped runners.

Then it hit me.  There was an explosion at the finish line.  People were hurt.  They stopped the race.

We can't go to the hotel where the team was supposed to meet - it's at Copley Square where the bombs went off.  I don't know if the rest of my team mates are safe.  I suddenly hear Dave screaming my name again, I've never been so grateful as I was in that moment....

The next moments are a blur - I think I text messaged or tweeted my co-workers to let them know I was safe (I don't remember).  I somehow have Dave's jacket on, and I'm sitting on the street corner sobbing uncontrollably.  I think I realized just how vulnerable I was - I had no phone, no ID, no cash or credit cards...absolutely NOTHING but the clothes on my back and my bib number.  How many times a week do I allow myself to be this vulnerable?  At least three.

But here's the amazing thing that happened - people from the neighborhood came out with buckets of water, bags of oranges, paper bags, and charged cell phones and were walking through the throng of runners to make sure people had water, snacks, a bag to stay warm, and a phone to send a text message to a loved one to let them know they're safe.  I somehow get an orange inserted into my mouth.

It takes us about two hours to walk back to the hotel.  The sound of sirens is constant, helicopters are overhead, ambulances are screaming down the road; I keep trying to tell myself that they're just evacuating the medic tent at the finish line as a precaution.  Then it dawned on me that people may call this a terrorist attack.  Oh my god, we were bystanders during a national terrorist attack.

I've been very up and down since Monday - I get hopeful and hopeless within a few minutes, but here's one thing that has felt constant.  Marathons are events that don't have any political agenda to them.  It's a celebration of will, determination, and strength of the human spirit.  As an athlete, it's an opportunity to bare your soul on the pavement, to show yourself what you're really made of.  To remind one's self that regardless of the hardships we may face in the real world, that we create another world that is just for us, and in that we strive to great heights.

The Boston Marathon is an opportunity for people to volunteer, cheer, run, yell, drink, kiss random girls in Wellesley (I kissed 2), celebrate, BBQ, hand out oranges, and pretty much let your American Spirit rule the day....every runner on the course is important; and being the woman who started in Corral 9 of Wave 3 I can totally vouch for that - I felt like a total badass and rockstar because of the people along the race route.

Because of these things, we cannot let this bastard win.

Regardless of whether or not you're a runner, I'd encourage you to grab an old race shirt, and get outside this weekend for a run, a walk, or whatever it is you want to do.  Don't let "them" win.  We are greater than that.

I know this will be a healing process, I know I'll start to feel better, I know I'll start to sleep again.  I'm going to race in a week and a half and I'll hit the start line wearing my Boston Marathon shirt because...

The Great Bacon Debate

Earlier last year, there was a flurry of stories indicating that there will be a bacon shortage in our near future.  This naturally caused a lot of people to start panicking...some started hoarding bacon, others were lamenting the upcoming shortage, yet no one was actively saying, "I should quit eating bacon so when the shortage does happen, I won't be emotionally traumatized by being forced to quit eating bacon cold turkey."  Because really, who wants to consciously stop eating bacon when you've been enjoying it for years?

My uncle seems to have taken a "Lean In" approach to this.  He has been on the quest for America's best tasting bacon.  My husband and I had the honor of sampling what may have been "The Final Four."  Here is what happened.

First things first - I wanted to approach this as closely to a science experiment as humanly possible (not having a science degree makes this slightly harder to accomplish).  All bacon was cooked in a 400 degree convection oven.  I replaced the aluminum foil on the baking sheet between each batch so as to not cross-contaminate.  Additionally, each batch was placed on fresh paper towels to absorb any excess bacon grease.  No paper towels were stacked.  We each ate one piece of bacon, then left the third piece of bacon so we could do a final showdown.  The single words to describe each bacon were gathered during the final showdown and are listed as "Overall Sentiment."

Bacon #1
Pre cook:

• Very sweet smoke smell
• On the thin side (I like thicker bacon)

Post cook:

• Cooked well for thin bacon
• Meat was hard and stringy
• Meat was also kinda dry
• VERY salty
• Tasted "cheap"

I wouldn't serve this to people I disliked.  This did remind me of a super greasy diner, where your 75-year-old smoking waitress could snap at any second and throw a full plate of bacon at you, scream obscenities, then storm our of the diner.  And you wouldn't even want to eat the free bacon.

Overall sentiment (Kristiana/Dave): Lame/Diner

Bacon #2:

Pre cook:

• Amazing smoky smell!
• Very reasonable thickness

Post cook:

• That is some F-Yea bacon
• Meat was very tender, was not stringy or tough
• Smokiness was awesome.
• If I think of home cured bacon from the 1800s, this is exactly what comes to mind
• Melted when it needed to

This bacon spoke to us.  It was one of those bacons that you could easily see yourself having a long-term committed relationship with.  Without hesitation.  The smokiness of it reminded me of the 1800s - it was literally like you whacked the pig and threw it up in the big smoker yourself.  Damn fine meat.

Overall sentiment: Manly/Bold

Bacon #3

Pre cook:

• Great thickness
• No smoky or sweet smell - weird

Post cook:

• Crispy parts were the most amazing parts!
• Slightly sweeter finish than #2
• No real smokiness to it

This bacon was OK.  I wouldn't write home about it, but if you served it to me, I certainly wouldn't throw a fit and flip a table over in disgust.

Overall sentiment: Standard/Standard

Bacon #4

Pre cook:

• This looked like bacon steak
• Not much smokiness smell, but had a sweeter smell

Post cook:

• the outside "skin" of the bacon made your mouth want more
• The fatty portions retained more salt than the meaty portions
• Meat was tender, but not as tender as #2.

This bacon was seriously a special occasion bacon.  It was so overwhelmingly delicious, between the crunchy outside texture of the piece coupled with the nice meatiness.  We almost didn't feel worthy.

Overall sentiment: Phenomenal/Amazing

Rankings unanimously go like this: 2, 4, 3, 1

The reason we picked 2 over 4 is that 4 was truly a "special occasion" bacon and we were looking for something we could enjoy every day.  Don't get me wrong, if a package of #4 showed up on my doorstep, I'd eat it immediately, but this may be an example where you can have too much of a good thing!

We Were Made to be Awesome: A Birthday Pep-Talk

First, if you've been hiding under a rock, please view the first 3:30 of this video....seriously, just do it...

Now, let me tell you about how this little piece of awesome plays into life and birthdays.  A few years ago I wasn't terribly happy about everything.  Life was OK, but it wasn't awesome EVERY SINGLE DAY (actually, most days were nowhere close to awesome).  Then one day, I made a split second decision:

I wanted every day to be awesome.

And it happened.  I have no idea what it specifically was, or how it happened, or how I did it, but I came to the realization the other week that I am an incredibly happy, loving, passionate person and am truly grateful for every single piece of positiveness that happens in my life.  Literally, EVERY time I go for a run at 6am and watch the sunrise, I take a moment to be grateful that I get to experience something so beautiful.    EVERY time I'm able to successfully help someone at work, I'm grateful.  I'm taking split seconds, or sometimes moments, to reflect on that one thing that made me happy.

A colleague that follows me on Twitter told me, "I love following you, you're always so upbeat, life seems wonderful, and everything is amazing."  I had to pause for a moment, because I never "try" to put on a specific persona on social media - I am who I am - and the fact that someone loved my account because I was living this seemingly charmed life made me realize that yes, I do have a terrific life.  An awesome life.  Not because I'm completely carefree or have endless means to do whatever I want, but because I MAKE the day awesome.

Some call it "living in the moment" others may call it "living in lalaland" or even "carpe-ing the diem" but either way, taking the time to remind yourself of all the small things that make your life awesome make the hard times easier to handle.  And the decision to make things awesome is completely up to you.

So, like Kid President said here, "We were made to be awesome" - and we are...in our own special way.  We all have awesome things that surround us, that make us who we are, and help us through the harder times.

Go. Be. Awesome. It's what you were made to do.