She moves like sea breeze.

Moving to Patchogue was a difficult transition running-wise.  Growing up, most of my runs happened in trails.  I lived a mile from Southhaven (where I would run all alone and never be scared, which was really, really dumb of me) and would run from my house to the fenced in park, hop the fence, run across the dam over the river, and through the woods I went.


Also, my mom would bring me to run perimeters at the high school after Cindy Quinn, a Pat-Med coach, ironically, one of Rob's coaches, was raped and murdered within my school district lines.  My mom would sit in the car and watch as I ran along the edge of the high school grounds; then, she would drive to the other side of the parking lot as I ran along the other side of the high school.  What a good mom.


Of course, us Longwood gals also had the blessing of having so many parks right by our high school, so when we had company, we could cruise through the trails of Cathedral or Prosser Pines.  I can still run most of those trails with my eyes closed.  I am a bad guide through those trails because I turn on auto-pilot and just start randomly turning without any warning since they are such second nature to me.


Now, I run the roads, which I have never done on a regular basis.  Even in college I stuck to miles of trails.  But I do have to admit, once I mapped out some routes, sometimes the road does truly rise to meet me.


My favorite and most regular loop is my 7.5 mile-course (ran it Wednesday in 48:33).  Basically, I mapped it craving waterviews.  I start out at my house, run along South Ocean to the water (about 1/2 mile), and loop through Shorefront Park around the bandshell and next to the softball fields. Around this point, just before I reach my first mile mark, I always take a moment (no stopping) to relish the view of the Great South Bay and Fire Island in the distance.  I always feel very lucky to live so close to this spot.


My mile marker is also a pretty special spot. Lombardi's on the Bay, my wedding venue.  Even though the wedding excitement has come and gone, I always try to take a peek to see if there's another bride enjoying her special day.  Likewise, just after the mile marker is where Rob proposed on the dock.

Patchogue View

I do a quick loop on the "L-dock," which is still under construction after Hurricane Irene reeked havoc on our town in late August, ending our summer fun too early.  From there, I charge over to Sandspit, another tiny beach where the Fire Island ferries are stationed.   After I run along the water for a little while, I meander through the town on my way to Corey Beach, my new favorite summer spot to go with girlfriends.  Des and I actually went on the day her baby was born.  She thought her uncomfortable feelings were because she was feeling too hot, but in actually, she was in labor.


Corey Beach marks mile 5, and then I loop back on home to make 7.5.  After a while this loop becomes routine, but I try to keep the precious views in mind and appreciate the beauty I get to see on a regular basis.

My finish line: Home sweet home... I plan to spend a lot of
my summer time enjoying our backyard!

Today, after running this loop, I couldn't help but think that this is my real last weekend of "work." I am done May 9th with all of my schools.  Post, which gives me the brunt of my work, is done May 2.  HALLELUJAH. I am so ready for no work and all summer.


So here are some of my running summer goals (in no order in particular):
1. Win the Summer Series trip again
2. Wake up early and get an a.m. workout in
3. Swim on a regular basis at Patchogue pool
4. Learn to do the flip while swimming
5. Lift more/Do more core
6. Eat an awesome breakfast on pretty plates after the a.m. workout
7. Drink a protein shake after major long runs
8. Hydrate
9. Find a seeded 1/2 marathon for the fall
10. Start researching a marathon....
11. Stretch and roll
12. Keep up on my running log
13. Get up to 75 miles per week
14. Keep my weight in the teens (118 ish) - but throw that idea away if weightlifting makes me a little heavier but fit
15. Get slightly unattractive, scary abs like the ladies in the marathon...just for a little while :)
16. Arrange a Diva workout day
17. Arrange some workouts with Rob's old high school coach
18. Remember to blog about my craziness :)

Ten days :)

                                          Tyrone Wells' Sea Breeze, one of my favorite peaceful summer running songs

If you're a bird, I'm a bird.

My husband decided that the Post XC team should start back up the end-of-year dinner that we used to have when we were on Post XC/TF.  Assistant Coach Tom and Rob decided to set the date and book the venue ("lucky" for us, it was right on campus in the "Top of the Commons." Although it sounds fancy, the "Top of the Commons" is pretty run down).  Since these plans were somewhat last minute, we had slim pickings.  Plus, Rob wanted to book a date that would work for our former coach Andy Young, which also limited us, and he never ended up even coming anyway!


As the date (April 21) approached, I asked Rob what his plans were for the party and was appalled when he explained there was no theme.  A party? with no theme? Not if I could do anything about it.  I gathered up a list of ideas, confirmed some possibilities on Pinterest, researched sale items at Michael's and A.C. Moore, and made a shopping plan of attack.  I could hit at least four Home Goods/Marshall's on my way home from work to pick up supplies on my very limited budget.  


I decided that since "birds" happen to be everywhere for party themes, I could easily incorporate a bird/feather gimmick. (Anyone who knows me knows about my feathers.)  Bird cage centerpieces, bird seed favors, feathers everywhere!  I even found "love bird" stationary to make programs and researched plenty of perfect bird-like quotes to match the decor.


At home, I spent hours making birdseed ornaments (some of which ended up pretty moldy because I wrapped them too soon), printing programs and table numbers, framing awards, writing place cards, and finding old pictures for a slideshow.  Why? I'm actually not too sure.  For my husband? for the team? for the senior? for the parents? for myself? 


The dinner ended up being nice despite a few ridiculous problems.  1. No table clothes on gross tables. 2. No drinks, as in WATER or SODA, which was supposed to come with a buffet order (had to fight a worker to get them) 3. Only 1/2 of the food we ordered showed up.  4. Some of the kids disregarded the speech for another person to obnoxiously/selfishly comment on a picture of them on the slideshow.


On the plus side, my good friend, Toria, and her fiance and a few other alumni came, and the parents seemed pretty grateful.  Also, my husband is an amazing speaker and makes me really proud to be married to such an intelligent man.  He spent a long time giving each athlete a chance to shine as he told the audience about the runner's accomplishments.  And after all was over, Speicher (our men's captain and one of my high school-turned-college athletes) gave a really wonderful and mature speech, thanking Rob and me for who he has turned into.  


I am still misanthropically torn on whether I will ever coach again, despite how pleasant the dinner was.  I tend to let the negative outweigh the positive, because, well, unfortunately, it has weighed me down over the past seven years of coaching.  Nothing ever really goes smoothly. The team as a whole never seems to care as much as I would like them to, as many members of the team have disregarded recruit signings for social affairs, publicly posted how much they hate days that involve running, and made lives of the dedicated athletes fairly miserable. Even as a runner, not a coach, I am usually a loner because of these same typical forms of drama involving other people.


On the other hand, there are several athletes that do show up when there are recruits, post how much they love to run, and remain dedicated despite the bullying.  


And then there is my husband, the real reason I stay. I think sticking with the program means sticking to our own foundations.  Building it gives us a new common goal, although I sure would like to build our own family these days instead, something coaching and our home improvements get in the way of.  Rob glows when he talks about a good workout or a great race.  Leaving would mean leaving his creation, which I am not sure I could do just yet, especially since coaching fills Rob's void from not running.  And we have even worked out a compromise for this year.  I get to work solely behind the scenes, aka paperwork and travel plans, and jump in a workout without coaching concerns whenever I would like.  I'll actually probably spend more time "coaching" in this new role, and although I am sure I will be frustrated, my frustrations will be focused probably on our budget numbers rather than the runners. 


So even though the whole birds of a feather flock together theme worked for the dinner and for the team, I think it more appropriately fits my marriage.  And perhaps, down the road when he is ready, we will fly the coop together.

    (The Notebook's Noah and Allie... One of my favorite parts... And although I can totally be the weirdo making bird noises at the beach, we are not nearly as romantic as these two, but who is anyway?)

Boston Pilgrimage

My Fellow Travelers

We have all probably learned (well, people my age, that is, probably not younger people since they don't even teach grammar OR SCRIPT in schools anymore) about New England's Pilgrims, Puritans, and even Paul Revere. Luckily, I am one of about 20,000 people who know the other side of Boston: Marathon Monday. Last year, after our first visit to the Boston Marathon, Rob and I vowed to return each year, no matter how hectic life became.  Unfortunately, the way Rob's spring break fell this year, Marathon Monday was his first day back to school after a week off; taking off is "frowned upon," and although I am sad he broke his vow, at least it wasn't the more important July 16 vow.  Instead, I gathered up Caitlin and Angela, two Post XC gals, who were just as excited as I was to watch 15,000 runners brave 26.2 miles in 88 degree weather (oh yeah, and take a day off from work/school).


As a track geek and regular nerd, I can't help but throw in one of the most interesting things I learned in school when studying American literature.  As we were headed up to Boston, we passed signs for Salem. Did you know that Salem was named by the Mayflower kin who sailed here to escape religious persecution?  They were in search of their religious motherland, Jerusalem, and cleverly named their settling ground "Salem," yup, minus the "jeru."

Marathon Monday Street Signs

And Caitlin, Angela, and I were in our motherland.  Boston is so incredible because the whole town turns into a running community.  All the stores adopt running themes.  The restaurants and shops give discounts to people who show their bib numbers.  The street signs change meaning, and acceptable attire in fancy restaurants becomes a whole lot more spandex-y. 


Before we set out on our trip, I sent the girls a tentative itinerary (I am the master of to-do lists).  Our (my) goals: meet Alberto Salazar at the Boston Library, find Tom (fellow CWPXC runner) at the Expo, introduce the girls to Pete Hawkins (the elite wheelchair racer I mentioned a while back), run along the Charles River, and grab a nice dinner in probably sweaty clothes.  We did all but one. Sorry, Alberto!


The weekend seemed to fall together perfectly.  We took the ferry over to New London, got into Boston smoothly, and were welcomed by the sight of the Charles River, which was exciting since I wasn't sure how to find the river.  Instead, it seemed to find me.  After driving around for parking near the "Boston Library" (the GPS was actually not taking us to the right spot, which we later discovered was at the easy-to-find finish line of the marathon), we gave up and found an all-day parking garage and planned to walk everywhere.

Tom at the Expo

Two miles of walking later, we met up with Pete and Tom at the Expo! Perfect.  Tom was glowing with excitement; Pete was radiating experience.  One of my favorite moments was when Tom's family disappeared for a minute, after we were having a Gu/Energy Gel discussion, and returned with a handful of Energy Gel treasures.  They were going to do anything to make Tom's race the best it could be.  Another favorite moment was when one of the "slow" wheelchair women kept trying to get Pete's attention, and he wanted to avoid her completely.  He turned to Angela and begged her to pretend they were in deep conversation.  Angela failed miserably and laughed, while Pete humorously hid from the women.


Later we went to lunch with Pete. We had about a 45-minute wait, so we sat outside by the water and chatted about racing and pre-race rituals.  Once our table was ready, we headed inside to a pretty happenin' sports bar.  Pete slid in first and reached under the table to push out the chairs.  We were all impressed with his gentlemanly actions (he ended up refusing to allow us to pay too).  During dinner, Pete answered a lot of our wheelchair racing questions.  He explained that because he has a T6 injury, he only has feeling from chest up, no core, while other racers in the competition do (not an excuse, he will say).  Although I already understood this difference, I learned more.  The lack of core affects the race more than just muscular brute strength. Pete doesn't eat breakfast the morning before a race (a 26.2 MILE race) because he doesn't have the stomach muscles to guard his stomach as he presses on it in his chair.  Likewise, his lung capacity is affected too, since he puts his weight on his lungs and doesn't have the reaction to engage those muscles to not smush them either.  Crazy.


Since Pete knew we walked to the water and were about two miles away from our car, he offered us a ride back to the heart of Boston.  We accepted and got to watch him get into the van.  He uses a strap to belt himself into his chair, and then he reaches into the opening of the van's side doors and pulls himself (and his chair) up into the van.  I like to compare it to what the Olympic gymnasts look like on the rings.  I couldn't help but gasp, "That's impressive."  After lunch and our van ride, the girls were in awe.  As we waved goodbye to our friend, we headed out for more things to do, but commented that we felt bad for leaving our elite friend alone.


Pete dropped us off around Boylston (the last stretch of the marathon) after showing us some of the tactical spots of the course, and we wandered the street and shops, purchasing a cool black jacket for Tom (most people were wearing an ugly orange one) at the marathon shop. Later, we walked to Newberry Street to find the Nike Store.  After a bit of walking and digesting, we headed back to the garage (hard to get in and out of for walkers) and got ready for our run along the Charles.  I packed my credit card and phone, in case we got lost or wanted to go straight to dinner, which we ended up doing.

Caitlin celebrating her 53-min run

We started our run around dusk, so the lights along the river were starting to pop up, about 30 minutes into our run, we had a romantic night run together haha.  We saw the lights of Fenway and ended up running back to Boylston.  I'm pretty proud of Smitty; she completed her longest run (53 minutes) in weeks, still dealing with pains from her new orthodics.


From our run, we walked right into Max Brenner's in our sweaty outfits and feasted on (small) chocolate dinners.  A little while later, we realize that Pete was not alone; he was on a date! at the same place we were.  Of all the places in Boston, we ended up all at the same place again, too funny.


Around 10 p.m., we headed back to the car, walking past graveyards of famous people: Ben Franklin's parents, John Hancock, Paul Revere.  And even though I was there to honor the Mebs, Karas, and Desis of the world, I couldn't help but feel the history nerd come out and think it was the coolest thing in the world that we were passing the resting spots of all of these people who have formed our country. Next trip might have to be a history one.

Elite Wheelchair Racers - Incredible!

By 12, we were at the hotel, showered, and passed out.  The next day, we woke up, got on our bright Big Tom shirts (homemade by Smitty), and headed for our free breakfast, only to realize that the wheelchair race went off earlier than we thought.  We booked it out of breakfast and rushed to mile 4 in Ashland, MA.  We were fully prepared with our Big Toms on a stick and big voices in little bodies.  We arrived at "our spot" exactly as some of the first racers came by; at first we thought we missed Pete and were so disappointed.  They come by so fast, it's hard to spot specific people.  But then, Pete in his blue Under Armor came on by and even took a split second break from pushing to give us a wave.


Later, as we waited for the runners, a few Boston official vehicles drove by.  As I quietly clapped for each of them, I looked up and saw a familiar-looking Kenyan in my sights.  Slowly, it dawned on me that I was looking at Meb, the USA Olympic Marathon Trials winner.  Out of my mouth, I slowly started to cheer, "Meb? Meb! MEB! MEB, MEB! I LOVE YOUUU!!"  I think I was the only person in the area who had any idea who he was, so I looked like a crazy Justin Beiber fan screaming for a hero.  He looked down from the car and laughed and directly waved at me! OH BOY - I don't think I am going to be able to survive Eugene this year!

ABS

Still at mile 4, we watched the elite women runners come by (holy crap, I need to do abs).  And the men, and then Tom.  As the people began to come in hoards, it was hard to search the crowd for our beloved Big Tom, but Smitty spotted him and pulled a Meb cheer.  "Big Tom? Big Tom! BIGTOMBIGTOMBIGTOM!"  Then, we all joined her, screaming for our Beiber-Brouillard.  Because he was in the middle of the road, he made an almost-fatal attempt to cross the crowd to our side.  He settled for a wave and continued, missing the ice cold water that Angela had just gotten him at the gas station.  Later we learned that Tom was with his friend who said that we were screaming so loud that it was a little frightening and informed Tom, "They have your face on their shirts."  The girls and I all admitted that we felt light headed from screaming HA, as we dashed back to the car to head to the finish line.

Angela, Smitty, Me + Big Toms on a Stick

After some traffic, we found a parking spot at a shady parking place.  I threw them my car, paid them, and didn't think twice about what a potential bad idea it was to park there (it ended up being fine, but could have been disastrous).  We hurried along the closed down streets, looking at buses of runners' bags and signs for family waiting areas.  Finally, we shoved ourselves into a hole by the fence to wait for our friends.  Big Tom came a little later than he wanted to, but with 88-90 degree temperature, even the elite men were about 10 minutes off their regular times.  Once Tom ran by, we did our crazy-person cheer. Angela almost jumped over a woman.  And then, we headed toward the family meeting area.


Seeing Tom at the end area would probably make most people rethink doing a marathon.  He threw up a few times and acted almost drunk.  It was a little scary, but there were about ten people who were watching his every move.  Once we got him to lunch and he had some food (including ice cream) in his system, he looked and acted awesome.  We are so proud.  The experience made me realize all of those times I was so down on myself, so many people are still beaming.  I know Tom wasn't too happy with his time, but there was really nothing he could do.  He did awesome, and we all know it!

PROUD!!!!!!!!

So after a weekend in Boston hanging out with awesome runners, I just don't even know how I can handle the excitement of going to Eugene, Oregon for the Olympic Trials in June.  Nine days of all my favorite runners.  Another trip where I will refuse to pack anything but running clothes AND another reason to buy more!  WOOOOOOOOOOO!

Religion: Faith, Prayer, Duty

On Easter morning, I arose from my own dead, passed-out sleep for a long run with a good friend, Caitlin Smith.  Even as I type "friend," I second guess what to actually write.  See, Caitlin (aka Smitty) was  one of my high school athletes, so I knew her and Imperialized her life for several of her high school track years.  Three years later, she continues to survive the (now) Morris reign, more of my husband's than mine. But over these years, she has become more to me than an "athlete." Our friendship has grown just as most do, through trust, reliance, and genuine care.  I think we believe in a lot of the same things, which is why we make a good coach-athlete-friend match. In fact, I think her feather tattoo she recently got emblazoned on her back just proves what mark we have both made on each others' lives.

Caitlin has been dealing with plantar fasciitis.

(Side note: My friend Toria, on my Cherry Blossom visit, kept giving me coffee in a special runner's mug. On the mug it had a list of "You know you are a runner if...." One of the items on the list was that you can correctly spell plantar fasciitis. I think this mug was amusing for two reasons. 1. Because Toria HAD to serve me with a special runner-theme coffee cup and 2. Because I can't spell plantar fasciitis.  Yes, I had to look up the spelling for this blog. Non-runner?) 

So knowing Caitlin hasn't had a lot of chances to get in good workouts or have any company and wanting a friend for some selfish long-run support, I asked her to join me on my 13-turned-14 mile run today.  She gladly agreed and drove all the way out to Patchogue to run/bike 14 miles with me.  I LOVE having a friend and need to figure out a way to have someone bike next to me more often (HINT to my friend Ashley - I know you're reading!).

On our run we got to talking about the difference between and runner and "non-runner."  This discussion often comes up with several of my groups of friends involving people who run.  Fast, racer-like runners often believe too many people shuffle through races with iPods and expensive sneakers, and/or, worse yet, a water belt and believe these accessories and this movement makes them runners.  Awhile back, I was part of those elitists who segregated the "real" from the phonies.  After running with my Diva gals and hearing their passionate talk about their goals, I've learned to realize that one who runs is a runner, by the -er suffix meaning (yes, way too much SAT tutoring these days). Plus, the idea of "runner" has to be relative, just as running is.  Although I might think I am more of a runner than the 15-minute miler, Shalane Flanagan (5-minute miler for 26.2 miles) would put my runner-hood to shame. 

On the other hand, I do reform my elitist idea when discussing being a runner with certain people.  For instance, my mother-in-law, after calling me the "cat lady of South Ocean" before I got into a car to go to dinner, also proceeded to comment how I should probably know a girl who is a "runner" and ran in the Patchogue race that I won and is "training" for the Boston Marathon.  Due to the composition of my audience, I explained that I don't know every person on Long Island who runs and claims he/she is a "runner" and that it didn't matter because I won, and therefore, kicked her ass.  So even if my mother-in-law thinks this girl is a runner, I am a better one.  

My husband also made a pretty good point to stick up for me: if a person picks up a paintbrush and starts to paint a picture, that doesn't make him an artist.  Likewise, if a person puts on a pair of sneakers, perhaps, then, he is not actually a runner.  

On the other hand, what is the opposite of "real" running, fake running?  I think the movement is similar, maybe just the speed and mentality might be our variables.  I'm torn and often hypocritical on this issue.

One place where I always feel like a runner is at ReddyCare Physical Therapy in Great Neck, New York.  After running a few speed workouts (600s in 1:48, 300s in 48), my hamstring keeps "tweeking"; this tweek is a mix between a cramp feeling and a feeling of my muscle rolling up the back of my leg.  Due to my wise old age, I have finally learned to stop when I get that feeling to prevent matters from getting worse.  What I have been doing for a while is giving myself a few rest and/or easy days and waiting out the pain.  I never have actually seen anyone to fix the reoccurance.

Until last Thursday, after waddling through an 8:10-mile pace for an 8-mile run and limping through a slow 5-miles later in the day on the Alter-G at 60% of my body weight (I swam too, but that's besides the point), I knew something was wrong.  Yoshei, a new physical therapist and graduate of Columbia and avid golfer, took me in for an eval.  During this session, he used what's called the Graston technique on my hamstring.  Bascially, he flings out a scary torture-looking set of blades and bars and goes to town, digging them into my leg and bruising them worse than Chris Brown bruised Rihanna's face.  He explained that he doesn't use the technique on most people, only ones he knows are athletes who withstand pain; I'm sure he wouldn't try it on the "runner" my mother-in-law had mentioned. 

I don't want to use my hamstring as an excuse for my so-so performance at the Cherry Blossom.  In review, I ran 66:18 for the 10-miles, a disappointing overall time and disappointing place (73rd, I wanted 25th), but I have a lot to positively look back on.  First off, we went out in 5:49 and starting out with the elite runners was a really incredible experience.  I sat in a pack and felt awesome, too awesome apparently, because the 5:49 felt like a jog.  In fact, I purposely said to myself, hold back, Christa, keep it calm, and when I saw the first split, I was pretty impressed that my body can go that fast and feel like I was jogging.  This part is definitely a positive.  This part also caused the negative, though.  Because of this too-fast mile, the lactic acid took over my poor little legs and I was feeling pretty junky after I hit mile 4.  My 5K split was 18:57, pretty awesome for a 10-mile split.  By mile 5, I was considering stopping because I knew the legs were not moving at all and I couldn't make them.  By mile 7, I started to feel 6:50 pace and knew there was nothing I could do.  I have done long Sunday runs faster, but I just wasn't ready to cope with the race going out too fast this time.  

7:20 a.m.: Elite Start at the Cherry Blossom

Either way, I still had an amazing weekend.  It was nice to spend time with my husband, who becomes my biggest fan when he travels with me.  Plus, I got to feel genuine excitement for my newly-engaged friend who has a beautiful home in the D.C. area, her dream job, a cute dog, and a happy little life.  I think seeing all the dreams she used to talk about in college and after college come true was the best part of the weekend, even if all my D.C. dreams didn't blossom.  

April 1: Cherry Blossom 10-Miler, Washington, D.C.

So after a week of reflection, a bunch of Graston bruises, an awesome 14-mile Sunday run, and an awful Easter dinner, I am ready for more of my eat-work-run-sleep routine.

Random Interlude

Here are some links to information about non-runners (oh, my hypocrisy):

First, an idiot girl in high school was told to remove her earrings and, instead, put tape on her ears.  She was disqualified on "unsportsmanship-like conduct" for not listening to the warnings.  I agree, she should have listened to the VERY CLEAR rules and requests of people who are above her.  I don't agree with the rule, as we run with safety pins on our numbers, which are deemed safe in high school world, but earrings are still considered dangerous, I still believe she should have had respect for the rules.  Therefore, she, and the writers of this article who are on her side for "doing the right thing" by covering the weapon (aren't concealed weapons even worse than ones out in the open?), are idiots. How is this a news story, I'm just not sure! Idiot Jewelry Girl

Second, although this guy is still a pretty cool runner in my eyes, at first I was angry he was making a mockery of the sport.  The guy actually runs really fast WHILE JUGGLING, terming the new word, joggling.  He plans to run the entire Boston Marathon while juggling/joggling.  Now at first, I was angry for the guy to be one of those "non-runners" trying to make a scene, but actually, he had to qualify for Boston somehow, which means he probably is a pretty quick runner without those balls. Joggler