No, Reader(s), I have not entirely abandoned this blog (yet).  Just, you know, mostly.

Here's what I've been doing for the past month:

1) Running.  A lot, and yet not a lot.  As of today I'm in the taper portion of my training, which means since my last post I've done two very long runs of twenty and twenty-two miles, respectively.  I've also done a number of short runs.  And I've spent a lot of time resting, because it turns out a twenty-mile run takes quite a lot out of me; I definitely haven't been adhering to my schedule of speedwork and mid-distance runs.  They say it's better to be undertrained than overtrained; let's hope that's true.  Also, I've acquired some running accessories, including compression socks (very sexy) and an object called "The Stick" which is basically a skinny plastic version of the famed foam roller.  Both are helpful in recovery, although I'm not sure they actually improve my performance during runs.  My thoughts about running are split three ways right now: (a) "why didn't I train better  / harder / more diligently?  I could have done so much better"; (b) planning for the marathon itself; (c) post-marathon plans, which are to focus on the half-marathon for the foreseeable future.  I like having a goal, and being in training is so much more fun than aimlessly going to the gym a few times a week, but the marathon is just. so. huge., particularly for someone of my limited running abilities.  I think I'll enjoy myself more, see more improvement, and have less negative impact on the rest of my life if I focus on a distance that isn't quite so ginormous.

2) Eating.  A lot.  Obviously, because of the running.  But also I have eaten in some interesting places, including:

a) Tartinery, in Nolita.  This place is fairly awesome, from the atmosphere to the menu.  I ate a Cobb Salad (I'm not a big tartine person, for some reason) and it was one of the better ones I've had, ever; of course not much cheffery is involved, but the ingredients were all high-quality and fresh.

b) Jones Wood Foundry, on the Upper East Side.  I've had two meals here; the food is very high-quality and well-prepared, but you have to actually like British food, which most people don't.  The dining room is attractive and quiet, and you can eat a full meal at the very pleasant bar - the bartender this afternoon was a dead ringer for Seth Rogen.

c) Fatty Crab.  This place is supposed to be great, and maybe the one in Soho *is* great, but I went to the one on the Upper West Side, and I was not impressed.  The atmosphere is midway between pub and beach shack - my dining companion called it "one step up from Chili's".  The food is good (again, if you like that sort of food - it's Malaysian, which to my palate hits midway between Indian and Korean, neither of which I much like) but the portions are tiny and the prices are a bit steep.  It was an interesting meal, but I left the restaurant ready to hit 16 Handles (*never* a disappointment) for dessert.

d) Shake Shack, the original (Madison Square Park).  I think I had something at the UWS location once, but never a full meal.  This was a surprisingly pleasant experience - there are picnic tables in the park, and although the line to order is long, the food is ready pretty quickly and there are plenty of seats.  Very much a fan of the "concrete", and also any restaurant that has a dessert in its title.

3) Apple-picking!  I went to an orchard upstate and picked a bunch of apples of several varieties, most of which I hadn't ever heard of.  Then I came home and mostly didn't eat the apples, because they have much nicer apples at my office.  But I also got to go for a nice hike.  And, on a separate-but-still-out-of-the-city occasion, I went to Orchard Beach, which is in Pelham Bay Park, which is in the Bronx but certainly feels like it could be on a different planet than Manhattan.

4) Shows - I think I must have been to a couple, but the only one I can remember just now is Sons of the Prophet, which I saw during its preview week and which was very, very good - definitely one of the best shows of the season.  It's at Roundabout, home of a wide variety of consistently excellent shows and specializing in this sort of black humor.

5) Going to bed early, when I can manage it, for the sake of my running.  Which is what I am going to do right now.

Happy Monday, Reader(s)!

 

I am trying a new thing, which is being optimistic.  For example, on Friday, instead of going around saying "I have to run eighteen miles tomorrow morning," I said, "I get to run eighteen miles tomorrow morning."  Because, really, it is a privilege.  Lots of people aren't able to run at all, and lots of others don't have a whole Saturday morning to devote to something unnecessary and ultimately self-indulgent like this because they have to work, or take care of children, or they can't afford endless trips to Jackrabbit (um, yes, perhaps running expenditures is one part of the budget I could pare back on?).  So, really, I am lucky to have the physical ability, time, and resources to do this.

 

I have also decided to discard any expectations for myself for this marathon.  I am not a practiced marathoner; I have run this distance only once before, and that was four years ago, in a different city, under different circumstances.  My only goals for myself for this race are to enjoy this once in a lifetime experience as much as I can, and - if possible - to run strong throughout.  Having a time goal - even a really slow, ridiculous-nongoal-for-most-runners time goal - was just stressing me out with the worry that I wouldn't be able to achieve it; I simply am not in the kind of shape I would need to be in to train for any particular pace, and that isn't something that can be changed in the next two months.

 

Saturday's run was eighteen miles.  When I set out in the morning, my legs already hurt - from the seven miles I ran Wednesday?  from the gentle yoga I did Thursday?  in anticipation?  who knows? - but I'm getting used to long runs that start out difficult.  As the run proceeded, I worked to keep my focus on the present rather than the future (or, if possible, off the run entirely).  Every time I started to think about the big hill at the top of the park, or how the previous hill would feel on the next lap, or how many miles I had remaining, I consciously brought my attention back to the ground I was currently running on.  This really helped with the toughest element of a long run, which (at least for me) is the intimidation and fear that sets in as soon as one starts to feel tired but realizes that there are five or ten or fifteen miles still to run.

 

And it actually wasn't bad.  The weather was a bit warm, but as last week, I wasn't too bothered.  I stopped to refill my water bottles every few miles and didn't get too dehydrated.  I didn't push myself to run fast.  About halfway through the run I actually started to feel good (for about two miles, anyway).  I didn't walk at all.  The only really bad part was that every time I stopped to refill my water bottles, my muscles tightened up and made it difficult to resume running.  I didn't start feeling bad until about mile sixteen, and at no point did I feel as bad as at the end of last week's run.  Best of all, although of course I was fatigued, sleepy, and hungry when I got home, at no point did I feel as physically miserable as I have frequently been feeling after long runs.  So this was a big win.

 

... And that's pretty much all I have to say.  I have not been doing much in the way of exploring the city the last couple of weeks because I have not had much in the way of energy.  Instead, I've been running, sleeping, and eating, and that's pretty much it.  For the first time in years I'm getting eight hours of sleep most nights, although it doesn't seem to be nearly enough, and I'm eating an unimaginably large amount of food, of which there is no such thing as enough.  This is to be expected on both counts, of course.

 

I have had a few interesting meals (this would be inevitable, what with the continuous eating).  Most notably, I went to Bryant Park Grill for brunch on Sunday.  The two highlights of this meal were (a) it is outdoors, and the weather was nice, although threatening rain, and (the much bigger highlight) (b) best bread basket ever.  I am not a big bread basket person, because usually it is just dumpy italian bread, but this was all kinds of stuff - cornbread and little scones and mini muffins and lemon pound cake.  It was exceptionally awesome.  Also, I had a nice omelet with very fancy mushrooms and a very small amount of cheese that was supposed to be cheddar but seemed more like provolone.  And now thinking about this meal has made me hungry again.   

 

in which my long runs cross over into insane (>15 miles) territory

Well, there are certainly worse things to come back to, after a fun but highly exertive two-week vacation, than a two-day week followed by a three-day weekend.

War Horse, which I was complaining Thursday about having to go see, was incredible.  I didn't think I'd like it because I'm not particularly interested in horses or military history, but it was a sufficiently good play to transcend its subject matter.  The stars of the play were really the horses, which were - this is going to sound weird, but it's the best way to describe them - puppets.  Or maybe you'd say actors/dancers (generally pairs) in horse costumes?  Anyway, their movements were amazingly realistic, to the point that I flinched when one of them was hit with a whip, because the horse - the inanimate paper puppet - was being hurt.  Also, the production was quite good - the acting, music, and lighting made a so-so story (simultaneously dry and melodramatic) really affecting.  I found myself quite caught up in the plot, despite myself.

Friday I took a rest day.  I had planned to practice yoga or lift weights in the evening, but I felt sick all day and by the time I got home could not imagine lifting myself off my couch.  I had mentally postponed my long run from its usual Saturday-morning slot because of how bad I felt, and consequently didn't do any of my usual preparations (i.e. eating lots of carbs and salt and drinking extra water); in fact, I felt so poorly that I didn't eat much dinner at all.  I told myself that I'd sleep late Saturday, rest all day, and hopefully feel better by Sunday.

Instead, I woke up at 5:50 a.m., legs raring to run.  I tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use; my body had decided it was time for a long run and all the sensible arguments of my mind were useless.  I figured, well, if I wasn't going to sleep, I might as well give it a shot.  I did get a later start than usual because I had to do things like assemble my belt (which I usually do the night before) and eat a bit extra (I'd woken up quite hungry, and you don't want to start a long run being hungry), but I was in Central Park starting my 16-miler around 7:30.

I felt bad.  My legs were tight and sore, apparently still from the slow five miles I did on Thursday.  It was cool when I first went outside, but the sun was already fairly high and in the park it was plenty warm.  The first three miles were a struggle, but then - as usually happens - it got a little better.  My legs loosened up a bit, and I stopped worrying so much about how bad I felt and what it might mean for later in the run.  I didn't feel significantly worse at mile ten than I had at mile one, and although the last two miles of the run were tough - I ran very, very slowly and had to walk briefly - I finished much stronger than my last Central Park run, the 14-miler I did a month ago, during which the last four - despite being on the bottom loop of the park rather than the up-and-down west descent - were an even more pronounced struggle.

I feel okay about this run.  Not great - the marathon is ten miles longer, and there's no way I could have run another ten, or possibly even two, miles.  But the marathon isn't for another two months.  And the marathon will have better weather (the heat didn't bother me a lot compared to some previous runs, but I'm sure it slowed me down and dehydrated me) and better facilities (I ran out of water for a couple miles, maybe 11-13, when the water fountain at a planned stop wasn't working; I'm guessing being thirsty this late in the run didn't help, especially because I'd just taken my gu and had very little to wash it down with; also, I could have done with a portapotty in the last third of the run), and I'll be more prepared the day before.

After the run, I laid about for most of the afternoon.  As seems to be typical, I spent a couple hours feeling more or less horrible before perking up in the late afternoon.  I went to dinner at Kefi, the very popular UWS Greek restaurant, which was good as always (although I seem to always get pasta there) and then took a very long walk (recovery, right?) before stopping off at 16 Handles for dessert (fuel, obviously).

Today I have done, basically, nothing.  I spent some time planning What I Could Do Today - go to a museum?  take in an independent film? - before realizing that I did not want to do anything.  I just had a vacation in which I did lots of stuff, so during this long weekend I just want to do ... nothing.  So I've been lying around on my couch, catching up on blogs and watching old Star Trek episodes and reading the New York Times.  I am educating myself about the culture, right?

yes, this is going to be a marathon-training blog for a while

So this morning's run was not awesome, which was not really a big surprise.  It would be nice if taking 2.5 weeks away from running resulted in feeling fresh and fast, but it rarely does - especially when instead I spend that time gallivanting around a foreign country on foot, bus, and bike and not eating balanced meals or sleeping enough.

 

I ran five miles on the treadmill.  It took me forever, partly because I was running very very slowly and partly because I had to take breaks.  (Treadmill runs have been uniformly unpleasant ever since my gym switched out the treadmills; the ones they have now, I swear, absorb half the energy from your leggs every time you step on them.)  Then I stretched.  I did not do any strength training, on the grounds that it was getting late and I would do it tomorrow (sadly, I cannot do that or anything else productive tonight, as I very stupidly made plans to go see War Horse, which was highly recommended but which I don't actually want to see... fortunately tomorrow is Friday, so maybe I can get some stuff done then or over the three-day weekend, if I can get out of my ill-conceived semi-commitment to go to the beach with my family).

 

So.  At least I did the five miles, right?  It would have been nice to do it fast, but at least I did it.  Now that it's getting cooler, at least in the morning, maybe I should consider doing some of these workouts outdoors, especially if I'm not actually going to lift any weights - but then what's the point of my gym membership?

 

The way I felt today - tired, leaden, but not actually sore anywhere - was typical of how I've felt through much of the training season.  I think the issue here may be inadequate sleep/rest and perhaps improper nutrition.  I'm lucky enough not to have serious stomach issues, so I don't need to avoid dairy or meat or anything (lots of runners do), but I should definitely focus on good-quality fuel and getting enough sleep, if such a thing is possible.  Again, the three-day weekend should help with this.

and now for something completely different: marathon training

I'm feeling so not enthused on this subject, but the marathon is in 9.5 weeks so I'd better act enthused.  Tomorrow will be my first run in over two weeks.  It's not going to be a big one - just 3-5 miles (depending on how I feel) at a gentle pace, on the treadmill, followed by plenty of stretching and some toning.  Hopefully I'll be blogging again tomorrow morning to say how great it went.

final bus post

This particular bus post may actually be posted from the bus, rather than just written on the bus and saved in a word file for posting at the hostel.  I say "may" because the connection is more than a little wonky, which of course is typical, and since it's a free connection on a cheap (10 euro) bus, I'm not going to complain.

Today is my last day of vacation.  Or my second-to-last day, if you count tomorrow, when I'll get getting up early, flying for several hours (it looks like today's flight arrived more or less on time, so I assume flights will be getting through to JFK just fine tomorrow), getting home (assuming there's some sort of transportation available), and dealing with the mess I must surely have left my apartment in, as well as the contents of my suitcase, which at this point weighs around one hundred fifty pound and contains mostly dirty laundry.  Or my third-to-last day, if you count Wednesday, which I will be getting my life in order and seeing the dentist about possibly acquiring some teeth.  I'm rather pleased about having this extra day off to reduce the post-vacation stressiness.

I had originally intended to go back to Dublin this morning, but there was nothing I was particularly wanting to do there, and I did want to do a Galway walking tour.  So I left my bag in the hostel and, after a scone (last scone of the trip, I guess), went to the tour office.  I ended up being the only person to show up, which made for quite a nice tour.  The guide was very knowledgeable (has degrees in political history and architecture, and is now working on his PhD in archeoastronomy... a nice change from the drunken idiots who had seemed to constitute the entire male population of the country) and it was an interesting tour; I'd seen all the landmarks already but of course hadn't known as much about them.

After the tour, I spend about an hour and a half in a very good bookstore, and walked out with four books for ten euros (at least one of these was a necessity, as I was about to finish my current novel had only one book left and didn't know if I'd like it, and the bus ride today and flight tomorrow to get through), which was only due to a major exercise of willpower and the finite amount of space in my backpack.  Then I had a bowl of soup and a cappuccino (I am becoming very European, although not to the pint of being able to spell that word without help) and finished my book (Scarlet Feather, by Maeve Binchy, quietly excellent like all her books are), and then I walked around and thought about buying a wool scarf, but all the ones that were authentic I just didn't like, plus they're not cheap (20 euros for the really awful ones, 30 for the decent ones). I don't need a $45 scarf that I'm not enthusiastic about, although perhaps I'll still see something.  Then I had a headache coming on and the streets were getting crowded, so I went into a shop with a line coming out the door and had a coffee and brownie, but the brownie wasn't terribly good and the headache came on anyway.  Possibly I'm dehydrated from days of limited water, or else my body would like something to eat that is not soup or dessert... I'll try to rectify both of those tonight.  I was fortunate enough to get on a cheap bus to Dublin that's supposed to arrive at 7:30 (although that might be the airport arrival and the city stop is first... if I'd known about this service I'd have spent the night here and gotten up at the crack of dawn to get the 5 a.m. bus, since I'll still have to deal with annoying transit to the airport tomorrow fairly early) and then by the time I get cash (I'm all out since the bus was cash but will probably need a key deposit, and you can't use cash for small purchases here anyway... if I get 20 euros and buy dinner and breakfast I can spend the rest on junk at the airport, which is always fun) and get to the hostel it will be eight, but hopefully I can stop somewhere on the way for a sandwich or, what I would really love, a nice warm takeout dish of pasta, although that's probably getting a bit carried away.

So... that's pretty much it, right?  Not a bad vacation, all in all.  I don't feel excited about re-transitioning to work (and marathon training) but maybe I will in a day or two.  And, I have tons of Irish books to read when I get home.

change of plans: Cliffs of Moher

Today I was going to go on a walking tour and then... I don't know what.  Shop more, walk more, try to find something open on a weekend.  It would probably have been slightly boring and slightly depressing.  Instead, I went on a day trip to the Cliffs of Moher.

First, I walked out on the hostel's breakfast.  I've been doing that a lot this trip at hostels.  I suppose when I was twenty-one and well beyond broke, I was willing to eat the European version of Wonder Bread, with off-brand jelly and instant coffee (actually, I didn't drink coffee back then).  Now, I don't care that it's free, I'm not eating it.  I'd rather spend money for decent food.  So I went out at around eight-thirty this morning, found out where and how to catch the tour bus, and then spent some time waiting for things to open so I could get coffee and food.

On boarding the bus, I found myself seated next to a college student from Switzerland, who was reasonably quiet and pleasant and a good seat partner - plus, I got the window seat.  The day was a lot of driving, but we also saw a lot of different things.  In addition to the Cliffs of Moher themselves (which are best described by the pictures) we drove through the Burren and saw a number of castles and ruins.  The day dragged a bit at the beginning and the end, but I'm definitely glad I went, since this was exactly the sort of stuff one comes to Ireland to see.  (Although it seems like a lot of my trips are starting to blend together at this point... Ireland and Iceland look a tiny bit alike)

Now my trip is mostly over.  Tomorrow I'll spend a bit more time here in Galway, if I can, before returning to Dublin, and Tuesday morning I go home.  It's been a good trip, especially the cycling part.  I'd forgotten how isolating and dislocating solo travel can be - something I forget every time I'm planning a trip, and remember as soon as I am on it.  But I suppose all travel has its difficulties; family vacations seem to be not really fun for anyone, and couples trips can entail a lot of fighting.  One should probably try not to quote cancelled television shows, but I'm reminded of a line in Joan of Arcadia in which God tells Joan that she needs recreation, but that the word should be taken literally, as a re-making of herself, and not to mean necessarily fun.