Fun Little Saturday

I was a fantastic girlfriend on Saturday morning and woke up early to follow the boyfriend to Nissan so he didn't have to sadly sit in the waiting room all day while his car got serviced. After I creepily sneaked up behind him to give him a kiss, we went to Walmart and bought everything. I am now the proud owner of leopard print flipflops and a new 8 inch skillet. And I found a replacement for the Fitbit Flex band I really liked to wear last summer. Target sells it in a pack of 3 with 2 other not so great bands, so I never bothered to buy a new set, but Walmart has it as a single item. Hopefully I don't develop an allergy to this brand too.

We made our way to Brookhaven for brunch at J. Christopher's, and then walked over to a farmers market for fresh strawberries and kombucha because we are turning into the people I hate. The strawberries were fantastic. I ate them all on Sunday when I was hungover.

The best part of the trip was a visit to Big Peach Running Co. I've been telling the boyfriend he should get himself some new running shoes for a while. Old running shoes make running feel like crap, and I know I'm always more excited to run when I like my sneakers. He got gait-tested and picked out two sweet pair of kicks - some Nikes with a palm tree print and a pair of Asics. I treated us both to a new pair of Balega Hidden Comfort socks because those things are like running on clouds.

Throwback Thursday: Rite of Passage for NYC Runners

I found this draft from April 2012. I went running in Central Park with the Professor. We were running the east side of the loop up from Columbus Circle when someone's obnoxious and poorly behaved child ran out in the road and a horse carriage moved to get out of the way and then a cyclist cut into the running lane and another cyclist cut in around him. That cyclist proceeded to ride his bike right up my leg and over my body. He ended up crying, the Professor threatened him, the cyclist's friend tried to say something about peace, love, and happiness, and I was laughing on the ground saying that they all needed to shut the fuck up.

On Saturday I, as many NYC runners before me, was hit by a cyclist while running the Central Park loop. Straight up run over. Before you start crying, I'm fine.

I came home Saturday morning (I slept over the new boyfriend's place and went to bed at a very reasonable 11PM - I am so lame now) and ate a bagel while watching tv. The Professor asked to move our run up by a few hours, which was fine until I realized I hid my Garmin while I was drunkenly cleaning and I still don't know where it is. How I managed to lose something in my studio apartment is beyond me. Then I couldn't find my other Balega sock and was forced to wear regular socks for a long run. Eff.

I told myself that these were not bad omens and to suck it up. I ran to our meeting point and was super excited to see Mrs. Professor ready to run outside.

That boyfriend and I broke up soon after this when he started ignoring me. Then I woke up next to a coworker after the big gala and insisted that the sort of ex-boyfriend come and collect the things he left at my apartment. I found my Garmin in my gym bag. I still use it today.

First Day of Pure Barre

My sister and my mom are huge fans of Pure Barre. They're always going to Pure Barre and talking about Pure Barre. They even have special socks for Pure Barre. It sounds kind of like a cult, and since I like cult fitness movements, I decided I needed to try it. I also got a little sick of my sister telling me how Pure Barre is only for experienced workouters, because if CrossFit can be adapted for people missing limbs, I'm pretty sure Pure Barre can be adapted for people who are intimately acquainted with their couches. So I signed up for the new client special and had my very first class today.

Let me be the first person to stand up and say that Pure Barre is extremely difficult. So many isometric holds and micromovements! My legs felt like noodles! And all those front squats yesterday certainly didn't help matters. It's been over an hour and my legs still feel like jelly.

I'm excited to share my Pure Barre journey with you guys over the next several weeks. I'm not quitting CrossFit, and consider Pure Barre an extension of my CrossFit. Coach Glassman says to "regularly learn and play new sports."

I had a great time in class today with the instructor Meredith. The only thing that I would change is the dresscode - pants and covered midriffs are required!

15.2

I've improved a lot at CrossFit over the past year but the Open has a way of really highlighting one's weaknesses. I have been really proud of myself because I can now do anywhere from one to five unbroken pull-ups depending on the day. I was pleased enough with my performance that I didn't see a need to push myself to get chest to bar pull-ups until I had a sinking suspicion that I'd see them last Thursday in the Open workout.

I was right because 15.2 was the same as 14.2. Womp womp.

Workout 15.2

  2 rounds of: 

  10 overhead squats (95 / 65 lb.)

  10 chest-to-bar pull-ups

  2 rounds of:

  12 overhead squats (95 / 65 lb.)

  12 chest-to-bar pull-ups

  2 rounds of:

  14 overhead squats (95 / 65 lb.)

  14 chest-to-bar pull-ups

For as long as possible:

From 0:00-3:00

From 3:00-6:00

From 6:00-9:00

Etc., following same pattern

I spent about a half hour trying to get a C2B last Thursday afternoon and I think it was too much time because my arms failed me during the workout on Friday. I said I'd go for the scaled workout or try 15.2 again over the weekend, but then I told myself to stop beating myself up over it.

Unfortunately, I had also convinced myself that I had improved from last year because I was able to do the 10 overhead squats at 65# unbroken but a little rereading of my 14.2 post from last year tells me I have already done this. At least now I know what my 2015 goal is - chest to fucking bar pull-ups, preferably strung together like an effing butterfly.

At least my outfit was sick.

                                                      shorts: Via Privé for Team Dangerous

                                                      shirt: Look Human

                                                      socks: Walmart (No joke!)

Valentine's Day 5K

Last year I signed up for the Valentine's Day 5K in Prospect Park, but I had had a crappy weekend, flipping out about some boy (this seems to be a trend, no?) and my running buddy Palindrome ditched me because his foot hurt. Really? Your foot hurts? You're a runner. Most runners have feet that hurt. I sent an email to the race organizer, Mike, and being the great guy that he is, Mike said I could run this year instead.

I went to my parents' house for the weekend (doesn't that sound so much more grown-up than saying my house?) and decided it was best to drive to the race. I worked in Brooklyn for two years, and there is no excuse for how I managed to miss all the exits I did yesterday, adding thirty minutes to my trip. My GPS just hates Brooklyn. We don't have problems anywhere else, but the minute we get over the Jackie Robinson, she's adding distance, removing streets, and claiming all other sorts of nonsense. I managed to get my bib from PS 154 before the race began and I found parking right next to the park's entrance.

I decided to finally take my red Brooks Adrenaline GTS 11s out of the box. The Adrenaline GTS 11s went on sale last month and I snapped these pretty babies up. I was saving them for my birthday, but then realistically assessed the situation and decided I couldn't wait that long. I want to wear them for the Caumsett 50K, but I couldn't resist wearing red shoes for a Valentine's Day run.

I love brand new white shoe laces.

I obviously made my mother take a picture of me.

I wore black matty m leggings, my red C9 by Champion for Target pullover, white Old Navy athletic socks (3.1 miles didn't warrant ruining my outfit with day-glo Balega socks), my patriotic Knockaround sunglasses, and an awesome faux-fur headband. I had planned on wearing my bright yellow Brooks gloves but I decided I didn't need them and left them in the car. Poor decision.

Female finishers received red carnations at the finish line.

We all lined up for the race somewhere between the entrance closest to 10th Avenue and Center Drive. I do not understand Prospect Park and I spent four and a half hours running around it. It confuses me, the landmarks look all the same, and I wouldn't be able to find you if without a compass and a map. I thought I had placed myself up towards the front, but the race volunteers asked everyone to get in the rec lane and suddenly I found many more people up ahead of me. I surged forward at the start and found that I was running something like 4:37 miles. Obviously not sustainable, but it got me out of that crowd. I reined it back in and finished my first mile in 6:37*. (These times are subject to change. My Garmin is on my kitchen table and I am at work, so I am writing this from memory.)

Leaving the park after the race.

I was feeling pretty great heading into the second mile. The second mile is the never-ending hill that the Professor and I battled over and over and over and over again during the Brooklyn Marathon. It's not that steep, you don't even really notice it at first, but it just keeps coming at you. I kept telling my legs to speed up, but my mind had my body trapped in marathon mode. I was able to run at 6:58 pace a few times, but I also kept stalling out at 8 somethings. I think I completed mile 2 in 8:02 (need Garmin verification.)

I am a big fan of the t-shirts.

The last mile remind me of mile 20 of the marathon. It was either run it and shut up or cry and go home. I started chanting beast in an even more beastly voice than usual. My real-life friends can attest to how years of smoking, chanting, and chugging has given me a deep and sometimes sexy voice. It's usually strongly disliked by children and high-strung women, but it has given me a fall-back career in the adult phone industry.

I came in at 22:40 according to the Garmin. The course was exactly 3.1 miles. I like consistency between my wrist and the race officials, so I am looking forward to when the official results are released.

I had to work after the race, so I didn't return to the school for celebratory cups of hot cocoa. Instead I drove into Manhattan to drop off my clean clothing (thanks Mom!) and pick up my FWF (favorite work friend) before heading back to Brooklyn. We were site leaders for administering a survey on Universal Pre-K in Bed Stuy. When I am not running drunk, I care deeply about ed reform. I am multi-faceted. FWF shared her new ginger treats with me after we each inhaled a #13 while we waited at McDonald's for our volunteers to check back in. They're really tasty and would probably have killed me appetite if I wasn't already stuffed from chicken mcnuggets and fries.

The Quantity of Quality Socks

     I spend a good portion of each day wearing athletic socks and I am very particular about the socks I wear.  I HATE socks that cover my ankles.  I think this encourages a cankle look and should be avoided at all costs.
     After much trial and error, I found my absolute favorite socks.  Someone in my family bought the Old Navy athletic socks and a pair found their way into my closet.  I wore them to kickboxing and fell in love.  The socks come in many colors, including plain white.  I happen to be partial to the blue and turquoise socks because I think they look pretty.  I also like the grey ones as well.
    The best thing about these socks is that they don't move around.  The problem with many low-cut socks is that they slip below your sneaker and then give you blisters.  It is also a really irritating feeling when a sock keeps slipping lower and lower into your shoe.  Old Navy socks are just the right thickness to keep your foot feeling cushioned but not bulky.  And the price is a steal!  The sticker says 2 for $10, which means 2 packs of 3 pairs of socks.  Six pairs of socks for 10 bucks?  Some of the other brands charge $12 for one pair of socks and they just don't measure up.  The quantity of quality socks just can't be beat.