petit gâteau.

newbie cycling chronicles

2012-02-13T16:59:00.000-08:00

Funny how within one week, you can go from this:

(Which was, by the way, the result of trying to take my water bottle out and drinking while riding -- apparently I completely suck at multi-tasking on two wheels. Also, in other bike stupidity, I recently gave myself a flat tire by yanking the pump off my wheel so hard that I pulled the valve completely off of the tube and the tire deflated. What can I say? I'm gifted.)

To this:

Second place in my age group at the Du the 3 Bears Duathlon -- 2.2-mile run, 19-mile bike, 2-mile run -- in El Sobrante on Saturday.

Granted, there were three people in my age group. And yes, there were only 20 women in the entire race. But whatever. I didn't crash and I got a plaque. So I consider that an enormous success and totally deserving of the ridiculous amount of Indian food I ate for lunch afterward. (Why else does one race if not to stuff one's face post-finish?)

Other random duathlon/multi-sport/I'm-supposed-to-be-training-for-Vineman-related thoughts:

Mid-race realization: They call it the 3 Bears for a reason. And unlike the Goldilocks story, this was not about trying out beds and choosing the comfiest pillow. Instead, it involved cycling up hills that never seemed to end. And when I was out there, talking to myself (OK, I'll admit it: singing to myself sometimes) through a tough climb, I kept thinking: "Oh, this must be Papa Bear." And then I would get to the next hill and realize how horribly wrong I was. Dear race director: May I suggest renaming this event the 3 Bitches?

The bright side: The downhills were freaking amazing. Flying? Yes. Oh yes.

The transitions: Not bad. My main goals for this event were to get a nice brick workout in (and yes, going from the bike to the run still feels likes someone stuck a stick up my butt for the first mile) and practice switching from running shoes to biking shoes and clipping in and out without knocking over the entire rack of very expensive bikes. Everything went smoothly. I wasn't extremely fast, but I did everything with purpose and didn't fumble around or drop anything or bleed. This was good.

On running: I need to warm up before the first leg. I wasted too much time using the first run segment as a warm-up. (I also wasted time freaking out over the banana slugs on the trail. But that's just me and my personal "issues." Dear banana slugs: Why?) A nice discovery: I still like running hills. A lot. And I loved that this race had an uphill finish.

And finally: Multi-sport is crazy-intimidating. Quite a few people at this race were pros or wannabe-pros looking to start their season. It was tough not to feel like a big loser while watching guys with bulging biceps warm up pre-race on their ridiculously expensive bikes on trainers in the parking lot. And the transition area was pretty funny, too. This was my friend's age group. His is the bike on the left. And his competition? Well.

Nice bikes, right? And those aero helmets. Alien power.

Yet no matter how fast you are and how many hours a week you spend working out, I still think you should never be allowed to wear a white tri suit.

Because that is just TMI.

sometimes I get hangry

2012-02-03T22:38:00.000-08:00

My bad habit: Hanger. (And I'm not talking about the wire clothes rack, silly. I'm talking about hunger + anger.) I know I need to eat every three hours or I turn into a monster. And yet for some reason, I still forget to put granola bars in my purse. And then I get stuck in traffic on my way to food and then all hell breaks loose and then whoever is in my car with me begins to fear for their lives.

*

I am back in school. I signed up for a fashion class at the junior college: Clothing Construction I. The class meets once a week for three hours. Note to self: If you want to make friends and have conversations that revolve around anything except "God, I'm so hungry," eat before going to class.

*

When I'm hangry, I'll overdo it. Last week, I drove to Soledad (where it's so happening, right?) to oversee a TV interview. On the way back, I stopped at Himawari in San Mateo and ordered the shiro tan tan men deluxe, which is sort of like the love child of tan tan men and tonkotsu, plus a ridiculous amount of pork (chashu, kakuni and ground pork, to be exact).

When I was done, I was sweating profusely. (Dear god: Please let this be due to the chili oil, and not the early onset of menopause.) And I had to force myself not to lie down on a bench and unbutton my pants.

*

May this list of places I'd like to eat at in 2012 stave off the hanger, at least for another three hours.

Maru Ichi: Black ramen (kuro), the result of charred garlic. Bring it. (And bring the elastic-waist pants, too.)

The Casino Bar & Grill: I feel a little guilty for putting this in writing, especially since the Casino is such a secret, locals-only spot. But I blame the tasting room guy at Mayo, who raved on and on about this little dive bar with extraordinary food and an ever-changing menu.

Mission Chinese Food: I know it's trendy. I know there is a book. I know the lines are long. But the chef at work loved it. I'd like to love it too.

Savory Spice Shop: Because you can never have enough urfa biber. (No, not Justin Bieber.)

Santa: This godfather of San Mateo ramen shops was on last year's list, and I have yet to slurp there. (Yes, I realize a lot of haters say Santa just hasn't been the same recently, but I don't care. I still want to know.)

spoonbar: Not for food, for drinks. For fancy, fancy drinks. Because ever since I experienced Bourbon & Branch and Curio, I want more from my cocktail.

Smitten Ice Cream: Hello, seasonal ice cream flavors. I want some Five Spice Banana. And anything that involves brown butter.

Lydia's Organics: A new location has opened here in Chickenland, which means I'll have somewhere to go to cleanse after I've indulged in the shiro tan tan men deluxe.

Souley Vegan: Vegan soul food in Oakland. Yes, please.

Cinnaholic: Since we're on that kick, vegan cinnamon rolls in Berkeley. (Also, I have a Groupon.)

primetime

2012-01-29T23:49:00.000-08:00

This was my view tonight as our big episode finally aired. For the most part, feedback via social media outlets was positive. However, we did get some nasty comments about our Spanish-speaking employees. There are some truly appalling, ignorant people out there who apparently have nothing better to do than post racist comments on Facebook and Twitter. (Side note: Have you ever noticed that the people who post the meanest, most ridiculous rants online are also the people who can't spell worth crap? Dear ignorant bastards: There is a difference between "than" and "then.")

Thankfully, for every horrible person, there are many more who are sane -- and are willing to join the conversation. To these people: Thank you. You make my life much happier. Because even though I can respond with insight about our employees and our hiring process, it's the community -- the non-company people -- who give that message extra power.

lose your mind, still win

2012-01-26T20:57:00.000-08:00

This is pretty much the biggest thing I've ever tackled as a PR girl. The show has been a long time coming, and the process has been exciting and exhausting and crazy. As the airdate gets closer and closer, I've become slightly more and more insane (but in a good way, not a psycho way -- like a lovable nut who just happens to have a phone constantly glued to her head and responds to e-mail at all hours and eats meals in front of a computer). I've been juggling TV requests, radio requests, media preview screenings, journalists who have broken embargoes (seriously), crisis communications plans -- the list goes on and on.

How I survive: Cycling. Remember the group of co-workers who invited me to join them? I joined. And I have to say it feels so good to get away from the office and ride out into the country (which is so green right now from the recent rain -- imagine pastures dotted with gnarled oaks, mossy limbs shading cattle and goats and the occasional emu -- yes, emu) and forget the madness for awhile. Yes, I'm still incredibly out of shape and very nearly got dropped during Tuesday's ride, but I'm still enjoying myself. And my co-workers are great coaches -- I learn something every time we go out. (For example, how to use the word "drop" and sound like a cyclist.)

And for the record: I haven't stopped running. I've just had to ease back into it after my nasty cold and the never-ending cough that followed. The hacking is finally gone, and I've run twice this week. I feel like I'm back at square one when it comes to building base mileage, but I don't want to rush anything -- the goal is to stay injury-free.

I did get a funny surprise today, though. Perhaps you recall the horrific 5K I ran on New Year's Day. Yes, the one where I almost threw up because I ate too much cheese the night before. Apparently, I won my age group.

The universe definitely has a sense of humor.

oh sweet redemption

2012-01-16T21:56:00.000-08:00

Rode 31 miles on Saturday, and the route included Chalk Hill. And guess what? I didn't fall once. Not one single time. Even in traffic. With multiple stoplights and stopsigns.

Yes.

Added bonus: I got a lot of compliments on my socks from other cyclists in pelotons that were riding by. (Effortlessly passing me as I huffed and puffed my way up Chalk Hill. Man, I am so out of shape it's not even funny.)

Awesome, right?

friday night bowl

2012-01-13T21:22:00.000-08:00

Tonight's discovery: There's ramen in Chickenland. That's right -- at Kabuki.

Granted, it's not Hana. And I wish it had more toppings. (Menma?) But the chashu wasn't bad at all. And the egg wasn't overcooked.

I'll be back.

meow

2012-01-12T20:29:00.000-08:00

Perhaps you've wondered why several days have passed since my last post, especially since I was being so good about updating regularly.

Short explanation: I've been sick.

Long (slightly insane yet absolutely factual) explanation: I'm being tortured by cats. Yes. Truly. For example, last weekend, the neighborhood cat vomited all over the front porch.

(I know you are really excited that I actually took a photo of cat puke. I bet you are clapping your hands and jumping up and down.)

Also, Mari has decided she needs to eat in the middle of the night or she will die. (Apparently with cats, everything is very dramatic.) At first, she'd wake up and meow for food at 4:30 a.m. -- which was not so bad since sometimes I get up this early to go to the gym anyway. (There is a class I like called Xtreme Muscle -- which clearly is really extreme since they've left off the "e" in the name. Unfortunately, many other people also like this class, so to ensure I don't have to stand at the front of the room -- which is so embarrassing since my actual muscles are nowhere near extreme -- I have to get there really early.)

But back to the hunger. The 4:30 yowling soon became 3:15 a.m. And then this morning, Mari took "midnight snack" to all new levels and started yelling at –- wait for it –- 2:15 a.m.

WTF.

As a result, I can't remember the last time I got more than five hours of sleep.

And when I'm consistently sleep-deprived and stressed out, due to the Big TV Show at work, and attempting to get back on a training schedule (um, Vineman in six months!), I get sick.

And stop blogging.

sometimes you just need to ...

2012-01-06T23:30:00.000-08:00

... dance it out.

Since my raise-your-leg-like-a-peeing-dog move is not quite ready for public consumption (I need, oh, maybe five gin gimlets before I can really shine), I went pole-dancing instead at Christina's brand-spanking-new studio. (Yes, I know this isn't anywhere nearly as sexy as shaking it in the dirt behind a parked car, but it's the best I could do tonight. And no, you won't see a video. Sorry.)

Why I love my friends: Because when a pole-dancing studio comes up for sale, they are brave enough to say "Why the hell not?" and buy it. Congrats to Christina and cheers to her new business venture.

And may we all have the courage to climb to the top.

countdown

2012-01-05T22:39:00.000-08:00

Remember all of the filming I was working on awhile back? It's all coming together now, and the airdate is around the corner. Exciting stuff, but so much juggling and planning involved.

And I am tired.

bike anxiety

2012-01-04T22:22:00.000-08:00

Confession: I'm kind of afraid of my bike.

It started so well. We were falling in love. She reminded me of when I was a little kid and spent afternoons riding (back then, a beach cruiser with bears wearing sunglasses painted on the frame). I learned the definition of the word "Wheee!" all over again.

But the last two rides have been crappy -- it's like I have completely regressed with the clip-ins. Starting is fine. Riding is great and so much fun. (Hills -- I actually like hills!) But when I stop, it's a disaster. Dear bike: You might be a sadist.

Which brings me to my current anxiety: There's a group of people at work who ride on their lunch break, and they invited me to join them. The truth is, I'm kind of scared to do it. It's one thing to fall in front of your friends and another to eat shit in front of co-workers.

cats in clothes

2012-01-03T21:31:00.000-08:00

This is totally normal.

planning ahead

2012-01-02T22:44:00.000-08:00

I know where I'll be in November. Fingers crossed I don't get injured again, especially since race policies have changed, and runners are now only allowed to defer once. So if I don't make it to the starting line this year, I'm pretty much out of luck.

My plan for staying healthy? Lots of cross-training. And no back-to-back races like last year. (In fact, I already have my events schedule mapped out, with A, B and C priorities noted. But more on that in a future post.) I'm also all about the preventative care -- I'm continuing my weekly Pilates reformer sessions, as well as chiro and massage therapy once a month.

Because this is going to be a big year.

In addition to New York, I'm also registered for this insanity:

That's right. A half Ironman: 1.2 miles of swimming, 56 miles of cycling and a 13.1-mile run.

Let's not forget that I've only ever done one triathlon, and the swim looked like this:

Notice how everyone else is swimming, and I am just standing there. (The upside: At least I was not the person who was clinging to the buoy later in the race. At least there is that.)

But I'm telling myself I have six months to train. I can do it.

Even if I am totally out of shape right now and actually sore from yesterday's 5K. Dear god, it's a long road ahead.

a running start

2012-01-01T23:40:00.000-08:00

I learned several things during the Resolution Run 5K this morning.

Stuffing my face with Brillat Savarin last night was a terrible idea. The cheese hangover is a vicious beast: Crazy cramps and a strong urge to either puke or crap my pants 2.5 miles in. (This was then followed by even more cramping and actual pooping -- thankfully, not in my pants -- for hours post-race.)

I do not ever want to be one of those parents who makes my 9-year-old child run a 5K with me and then hounds him the entire time, yelling out Garmin stats and statements such as "You're running too slow!" or "You need an 8-minute mile!" Meanwhile, the poor kid looks like he's suffering from -- you guessed it -- a cheese hangover.

A 5K is hard because it feels like an all-out sprint for 3.1 miles. Which, when coupled with the cheese hangover and the fact that I am ridiculously out of shape (I was gasping for breath and getting passed by people running with their dogs -- awesome), is its own special kind of torture.

Despite the morning's challenges, my Garmin said I finished in 27:30, with an 8:54 average pace. Splits:

Mile 1 8:43
Mile 2 9:03
Mile 3 8:59
497 feet at an 8:06 pace

At least I know what I have to work on in the coming months. Hello, 2012.

the time of year

2011-12-28T22:58:00.000-08:00

... to run a 12K trail race called Hark the Herald Angels (a fitting name, since the race was on Angel Island, which meant divine views of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz).

... to wear hideous sweatshirts (confession: not just once, but twice) in public.

... to eat way too much food. (Kimchee pancakes from Biergarten, anyone?)

... to find yourself at Toys R Us, face to face with this ridiculousness:

... to continue to unclip with your left foot and lean the opposite direction, no matter how much you tell yourself not to do this. (Dear bike: I'm starting to think this is abuse. Every time I think I'm getting good, you put me down. Literally. As in, I am lying on the ground beneath you.)

... to make new friends.

... and to spend time with your loved ones (and sport silly manicures while you're at it).

cynthia's cim

2011-12-04T21:19:00.000-08:00

Hello, CIM.

This time, you didn't eat me alive. This time, the circumstances were different.

This time, it wasn't about me (and my typically pathetic attempt at running a full marathon). It was about Cynthia and getting her across the line of her first 26.2.

Her husband, Aaron, signed up for the CIM relay so we could pace her in. He ran the first two legs, his brother Chris ran the third and I had the honor of running Cyn into the finish (5.7 miles). (And yes, we all wore shirts with the silhouette of Will Ferrell's naked body, as seen above. Anything to make Cynthia laugh out there!)

From the start, she looked strong. I caught a glimpse of her and Aaron at Mile 11, and they looked great -- on target for a 4:30 finish time. She and I gave each other a giant hug, and then she kept on running and I was off to my relay exchange.

This is what waiting for Chris at the exchange (which was about 20.5 miles in) looked like.

Don't ask me what the person in the white shorts was doing. I really don't know.

I waited and waited, hoping for the announcer to call my number so I knew Chris was coming in. The 4:25 pace group went by, and not too long afterward, there was Cynthia. She looked strong, she was smiling, she waved -- and then she said Chris was "somewhere back there."

Yup, Cyn outran her pacer.

And so I kept waiting. To the point where Aaron (who was spectating now) almost had me go on ahead without the timing chip. What seemed like an eternity went by before Chris appeared. I ran over to him, asked him if he was OK, took the timing chip off of his ankle and then shot out of the relay exchange, sprinting as fast as I could to catch Cyn.

I felt a little guilty having fresh legs while the runners in the final miles of their full marathon soldiered on to the finish line. I wove around, passing people, all the time looking for Cynthia and her blue tank top. I have no idea how fast I was going because I forgot my Garmin, but I was definitely hauling. All I could think about was: If I can't find her, I will have failed as a pacer.

Odd things I heard while running: A spectator announcing, "I have a little girl and I'm already working on match-making!" (I hoped she was talking about a dog.) Two separate conversations about Selena Gomez. One runner singing (badly) at the top of her lungs. (At least this meant she could breathe, right?)

I also saw a fireman running in full gear, a sign that said "Will you marry me?" and a whole lot of people in tutus.

I passed the 4:40 pace group (and memories of last year's craptacular race came flooding back -- yikes) and thought, So this is what it feels like to feel good in the final miles of a marathon. And at about Mile 23 or 24 -- coincidentally, right at Del Taco, one of my favorite CIM landmarks -- I spotted Cynthia.

I picked up speed to catch her, and another full marathoner started keeping pace with me -- almost racing me. I told him he looked awesome, we high-fived and ran together. As we were turning onto L Street, he asked me if I would run him into the finish, but I had to tell him no since by then, we had caught up with Cynthia. I cheered him on, and then settled in next to Cyn, who still looked fabulous, even though she said her back was hurting.

We kept a steady pace the rest of the way. I told her she deserved a massage and a very expensive new purse when she was done with the race. And every time I saw a crowd of people, I'd tell them this was Cyn's first marathon and get them to cheer for her. It was so much fun!

As we got closer to the finish line, we spotted this guy, who had my favorite sign of the day:

Cyn's family was about half a mile from the finish line, and they were all cheering like crazy when we ran past. And she was able to kick at the finish -- we ran in strong, side by side. She finished in 4:36:06 -- a really fantastic performance.

I love pacing people to their goals. It's the ultimate honor to have someone trust you with something so important. Congrats, Cyn!

ramen thanksgiving

2011-11-24T23:11:00.000-08:00

This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for ramen chefs.

Because making ramen from scratch is really freaking hard.

We followed the recipes as best as we could.

And at first, everything seemed great. Look at this pork belly. Awesome, right?

The noodles, sadly, were a different story. This was the first time we'd ever made any kind of pasta from scratch, and we had some issues with the noodles sticking together.

I also think we let them sit around too long after cutting them, which made them even stickier, and when we did cook them, they turned into one big doughy clump that sort of resembled a lumpy brain.

I chose not to take a photo of this.

So we went into survival mode and substituted with instant noodles. (Thank god we had a few extra packages in the pantry!)

Despite the noodle disaster, I was still very excited to watch our bowl of ramen come together.

The end result:

It was good (and I think we deserve bonus points for being brave enough to attempt this), but we definitely need more practice, especially when it comes to noodle-making!

noodle me this

2011-11-23T11:54:00.000-08:00

Clearly, I am ramen-obsessed. (Duh.)

I'm the girl who goes to Hana for dinner and asks if there is any ramen left from lunch service. (It's only on the menu at lunch.)

I love it when I get lucky.

I've also been known to order takeout from Shimo in times of desperation.

Unfortunately, takeout ramen doesn't really translate so well, especially when you're attempting to assemble it in a parking lot and eat it in a car. Also unfortunate: Shimo is no longer around. (I have my thoughts on this, but I'll save those for another time.)

And I can't wait to check out Ken Ken Ramen's new permanent spot -- I liked their pop-up, and I've heard they're expanding the menu to include a tonkotsu broth. (The more I eat ramen, the more it seems the thick, creamy tonkotsu is my favorite.)

And I look forward to CIM weekend (I'm not running the full -- I'm doing the relay this year to pace Cynthia through her first 26.2) largely because that means I get to visit Shoki. Yes.

So imagine how absolutely thrilled I am about our Thanksgiving plans. Yes, folks, we've decided to screw the turkey (which I never really liked very much in the first place -- it's always too dry) and are doing something Much More Interesting: Ramen from scratch. This includes the broth, the noodles and all of the toppings (hello, runny egg cooking lesson).

Fingers crossed it all works out!

not running in monterey

2011-11-20T20:39:00.000-08:00

This weekend: The Big Sur Half Marathon.

No, those drinks aren't alcoholic. (Although we did end up with pints in hand shortly after this photo was taken. And we also went through three bottles of wine at dinner. But we were with a large group. And dinner was at Passionfish, where the wine list is at retail instead of restaurant prices, and all of the seafood on the menu is sustainable -- no tuna! Yes, you should go. Immediately.)

Anyway, as I was saying: Half marathon.

Guess what? I didn't run it. I've been sick with a bad cold and cough for the past week (yes, hacking up a whole lot of disgusting-ness), and even though I brought all of my race gear and the weather conditions were absolutely perfect and the course was fairly flat and would've been ideal for a PR attempt, I resisted. That's right: I said no to pneumonia.

This is huge for me. I normally try to tough it out, even if the pain is excruciating (SF Half, anyone?). But my goal is to practice more self-control and be smarter about knowing when I need to sit one out: Rest now, run stronger later. (And trust me, 2012 is going to be absolutely insane event-wise, and I'll need all the strength I can muster. But that's for a future post.)

So this was what it looked like from the sidelines this morning:

And this was the view from the finish line, as I waited for my friends to come across:

Side note: I wanted to strangle the announcer when he asked if there were any runners spectating this morning and then said: "Isn't it tough not to be out there with the rest of them?" Thanks, man. Way to make a girl feel good.

Despite the DNS, the weekend was fun. And of course, there was a stop at Kahoo for a bowl of kotteri miso ramen on the way home.

And when we drove through San Francisco, we were greeted by this:

I took it as an omen of good things to come.

ups, downs, in-betweens

2011-11-13T21:22:00.000-08:00

Where does all the time go?

Once again, work is the culprit.

Random thoughts on film shoots: This time of year, it's tough finding a vineyard that still has a decent amount of leaves that aren't brown or about to turn brown. Also, filming pretty much never runs on time. Ever. But it sure beats sitting at a desk all day.

*

In other news, this is what my side looked like a week ago:

The bruise is fading now. However, the embarrassment over my clumsiness lingers. Grove Street in Healdsburg will forever be remembered as The Place Where I Fell Into a Planter. I need a redemption ride, and soon.

*

Yesterday I went for an eight-mile trail run at Lake Sonoma. Only I didn't actually run eight miles.

Three miles in, my stupid psoas started screaming at me, and I had to stop running and hike back out. I got lost and ended up -- wait for it -- pressed against a hillside in the middle of a mountain bike race, hoping I wouldn't get run over.

*

On a more positive note, I had ramen twice this past week.

First, there was Ramen Dojo, where sesame oil and fried garlic took the spicy tonkotsu broth to a whole new level of slurptacular (yes, I'm making that a word):

Then, there was a shoyu bowl at Hana, a.k.a. the source of the best ramen in Sonoma County:

I feel slightly less bitter about New York now.

*

Also, it's truffle season.

You can't complain when someone shaves a fresh white truffle onto your plate.

in the wee hours

2011-11-06T07:30:00.000-08:00

Thanks to the time change and two hungry, yelling cats, I woke up at 5 this morning. (One of said cats insists on sitting in my lap right now, making it very difficult to type this.)

The upside to not sleeping in: I can watch the New York City Marathon. (Sending good thoughts to Layla and Lee Anne! Enjoy every second, ladies!)

Yes, this is slightly painful. I know deferring was the right choice, but it still hasn't been easy. Both my mom and my friends texted me photos from Ippudo this week.

Mom: "I had this for lunch!"

Ulysses (who's in NYC for work): "Ippudo! I love you!"

Thanks, folks -- way to ~~rub it in~~ let me live vicariously through you.

To try to take my mind off of the DNS and the ramen I am not eating, I went for a 32-mile ride in Healdsburg yesterday.

Pretty, right?

Of course, in classic Michaela fashion, shortly after I took this photo, I had a clipless pedal incident and tipped over. (Seriously, how many times must I lean the wrong way before I finally learn?) And then two miles down the road, I had yet another spill at a stop sign and ended up in a planter in front of a whole bunch of people. The fall was so dramatic and stupid that a man in a large truck actually pulled over to ask if I was OK. Yup, I'm a winner.

At least my cat loves me no matter what.

what could've been

2011-11-03T16:20:00.000-07:00

I am trying not to think about this.

You know what is even more frustrating? My mom is there right now. This very second. Unlike me, she didn't cancel her plane ticket when I deferred my marathon entry. And my dad didn't cancel his, either — he flies out to join her Saturday. I am imagining them hanging out with David Chang and getting orchestra seats to "The Book of Mormon" and catching a throwaway glove when a Kenyan decides he is warm enough.

Damn it.

Dear NYC 2012: I'm coming. This deferral crap won't happen again.

zombie runners

2011-10-31T23:24:00.000-07:00

Some thoughts on running a half marathon as a zombie prom queen:

As evidenced above, only those who are certifiably nuts will wake up at 3:30 a.m. to voluntarily plaster their faces with a thick green paste called "Rotting Flesh" to take their running group's team theme to a whole new level. Everyone else will just wear a crown.

Standing on the side of the road pre-race, simultaneously squirting and smearing your running buddy (a.k.a. the zombie prom king) with fake blood is strangely satisfying.

It is possible to be too bloody to wear your Garmin. This is OK; as a zombie prom queen, you are already wearing a gut-spattered corsage on your wrist anyway. Just remind yourself to quit checking it -- fake roses don't keep track of splits.

Doing shots of Johnny Walker Black out of an Ironman-branded gel holder at the starting line (yes, before the sun even comes up) really warms you up for a race.

Chasing your non-zombie running friends while yelling "Braaaaaaaaiiiiiiins!" makes for a good show. And there's nothing like getting other people to laugh in the middle of a half marathon.

Johnny Walker Black will result in a pit-stop. Be grateful that said race is in wine country during harvest, so port-a-potties for vineyard workers are abundant. Be even more grateful when, by sheer luck, you find one that has just been cleaned and has no line outside.

A tiara is tough to wear while running, but is surprisingly light and easy to carry by hand -- sort of like a relay baton, only with more bling. And maybe also a few drops of blood.

Despite the fact that you did not train for this race, you are wearing a ridiculous outfit, your rotting nose is sweating off, you have a good buzz for the first four miles and you have to make two bathroom stops (one for yourself, one for the king), it is still possible to finish in a respectable 2:06:04.

The only bummer: We didn't win the costume contest. That went to the crazies who ran as Curious George and the Man with the Yellow Hat.

the return to running

2011-10-28T15:34:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling a little beat up today ...

Don't worry –- this wasn't a clipless pedal accident. It's Halloween here in the office, and the PR department went with a medical theme. I'm a patient.

And the special effects makeup doesn't stop there. Tomorrow I'm running the Healdsburg Wine Country Half Marathon in full costume. I don't want to spoil the surprise, but let's just say a lot of liquid latex is involved. Fingers crossed my face stays on for all 13.1 miles.

Speaking of races, remember the other Healdsburg half a few weeks ago? And remember how I wasn't even sure I was going to do it?

Somehow I ended up with this:

This finisher's medal means the Healdsburg Half was my 15th half marathon.

And I had thought it was going to be a DNS. That changed about 10 minutes before the start. I was wearing my running clothes and I picked up my bib, so I figured I'd go for it because I needed a workout anyway. My plan was to run seven miles and then drop out.

Mile 1 9:43
Mile 2 9:09

My hip flexor was slightly achey at first, but as I kept moving, the pain faded. And the more I ran, the more it hit me: It just feels so freaking good to be running again.

Mile 3 9:03
Mile 4 9:17

I was running with my friend and neither of us were taking the race very seriously. We were chatting, complimenting people on their socks (pink argyles!) and basically just having fun.

Mile 5 9:25

And then my friend announced he had to make a pit-stop. ASAP.

Mile 6 13:26

Nice split, huh? Clearly this was port-a-potty time. While I was waiting for my friend, I saw a few other people I knew. Their comments: "Hey, we thought you weren't going to be running today!" My response: "Oh, I'm just going to drop out after one more mile."

Mile 7 9:15

And I was going to stop. I swear. But there was nowhere to go –- no aid station, nothing. So I just kept walking. I figured I would walk until I found a suitable place to wait for someone to pick me up. But my friend stuck with me, and we just kept chatting away that before we knew it, three miles had gone by.

Mile 8 14:47
Mile 9 16:31
Mile 10 15:27

At this point my friend finally took off to run in. And even though I hadn't planned it, I started running too, because I didn't want to get left out on the course, walking and walking forever. I felt a little bad because I started passing a lot of people who looked like they were struggling, while I shockingly felt just fine.

Mile 11 9:27
Mile 12 9:16
Mile 13 9:41 (slowed down to eat pretzels at an aid station)
.25 mi at 8:01 pace

And the finish! Notice how I'm laughing and moving toward the sideline because the race announcer –- also a friend of mine –- cracked me up with a little aside as I crossed the line. (Also notice the horrible time on the clock –- new personal worst!)

Official/chip: 13.1 miles at 2:26:23 (three minutes slower than my worst time – not bad, considering how much I was walking) / Garmin: 13.25 miles at 2:26:25

So yes, with that impromptu half marathon, I am running again. And I'm really excited about tomorrow's race, which I'm pretty much just considering a long fun run. With fake blood. Hint, hint.

the love affair continues

2011-10-23T21:55:00.000-07:00

Remember this?

Spring Hill Road has always been a favorite for CIM training (perhaps more painfully at first, more lovingly later).

And now it's a great spot for riding. I got a small group of friends together yesterday and did a 30-mile loop through Chileno Valley and back along Spring Hill. (And yes, the hills are just as bad -- if not slightly worse -- on a bike. At one point, I really wanted to get off and walk, but I was worried that if I stopped, I'd topple over into the road and get hit by a car. So I just kept pedaling. And grunting. And pedaling.)

This was my first ride with the new pedals. I'd been practicing clipping in and out in a doorway ...

... and falling into the doorjamb due to a bad habit of clipping out with one foot and leaning the opposite direction.

So naturally, I was extremely nervous to tackle 30 "intermediate level" miles.

Surprisingly, it went really well. The most challenging thing was clipping in. I had no problem with the first foot, but when it came to clipping in the other, it took me forever to position the pedal the right way, and I'd end up pedaling with one foot and fumbling around with the other. Thankfully, I eventually got the hang of it.

I didn't fall at any stops, but I did have an awkward moment when I made a U-turn, freaked out for some reason, forgot I was clipped in on the right side and tipped over. I unclipped in time, so I didn't actually hit the ground, but I bruised my left shin up pretty badly with my pedal.

Ah, well! Note to self: Next time, don't freak out!

Anyway, it was a fun ride, and as always, I love any time I get to spend with my bike. Can't wait until our next date.

harvesting, cycling

2011-10-13T16:38:00.000-07:00

Spent the morning in the vineyards sampling Cabernet grapes with one of our winemakers.

Afterward, we went back to the winery and tasted the fermenting juice -- a little Cab, Merlot, Petite Sirah, Petit Verdot, Viognier and ...

... Chardonnay.

I love this time of year.

*

On another note, a hot little bike got an upgrade today.

Clip-in pedals!

Now all I have to do is learn how to ride with them.

dns

2011-10-12T16:27:00.000-07:00

I was reading this post about having a DNS -- do not start -- day. It's one thing to have one DNS, but another to have multiple.

And this year has been the Year of the DNS for me.

First, there was the sprained ankle, which resulted in a DNS at Kaiser, a race I had hoped would be a PR attempt.

The plus side to this: I discovered I am a really good spectator.

Then: New York. My heart still hurts thinking about it. I had high hopes for this marathon. Everything was lined up: The hotel was booked, I was on the VIP bus to the starting line, the ramen research was done, I had made plans to meet up with friends. But then my stupid hip had to protest. (Of course, my physical therapist thinks the hip injury may stem from the ankle sprain throwing everything out of alignment and causing my muscles to fire wrong. Curse you, left leg.)

Ultimately, deferring was the right decision. Only 10 percent of all lottery entrants actually get into the race, and since I'm not fast enough to enter with a qualifying time, this one entry is probably the only shot at New York I'll ever have. So rather than stumble through a once-in-a-lifetime experience in pain and risk a DNF (perhaps even worse than a DNS), I backed out. Hopefully next year I'll be 100 percent and can experience New York at its fullest.

But wait. The DNS action doesn't stop there.

I am actually debating yet another DNS this weekend. I'm signed up for the Healdsburg Half Marathon on Sunday, and there's absolutely no way I can run 13.1 miles. The farthest I've run recently has been a little more than 5 miles. My options: (a) Start the race, only run 7-8 miles and then call someone to come get me from wherever I drop out (my first DNF!), (b) Bring my bike to the race, ride the course and cheer for my friends who are running it or (c) Scrap the whole thing altogether and do something completely different, like maybe hot yoga or a long ride (have I mentioned I'm obsessed with my bike?) or even swimming.

Overall, this year hasn't turned out at all as planned.

socal

2011-10-09T22:10:00.000-07:00

Headed south for a quick trip to Lala land this weekend. The visit started with my mom's first-ever attempt at ramen.

She made a chicken-based broth and used Filipino noodles. Not exactly authentic, but still really comforting -- and much, much better than anything I've ever tried to do myself. (Um, package of Top Ramen, anyone?)

Then I went to the beach.

If there's one thing I miss about Southern California, it's the ocean.

I lay on the sand, watched people fly kites (there was a pirate ship-shaped kite!) and read my dorky book.

And then I went to Jinya for -- you guessed it -- more ramen.

I ordered the Hakata-style bowl. I know I've had it before, and maybe I should've tried something different, but the super-thick porky broth was just too good to resist.

My parents also got ramen.

I think this must be what happily ever after looks like!

apparently, I cycle now

2011-10-05T00:16:00.000-07:00

I'll admit it -- when I got to GranFondo last Saturday, I was intimidated. There were 7,500 people in very expensive spandex outfits with very expensive aerodynamic helmets (out of curiosity, am I the only one who wonders why you would pay $200 for a hat that makes you look like an alien?) and absolutely insanely expensive bikes. And all of these people were crammed in together, bike against bike, waiting to cross the starting line.

I felt like a big amateur with my paddle pedals (that's right -- I haven't even graduated to clip-ins yet), my $30 visor helmet and my street shoes. I also felt extremely claustrophobic.

So I went to the very back.

Literally, the very, very back. As in, my friend and I were the absolute last people to cross the starting line, and the announcer was telling us we needed to move faster.

Apparently, I took this to heart. Because after I stopped feeling so self-conscious, I discovered I am actually not a bad cyclist. In fact, I found myself continually panting "On your left" to other riders and passing them on the hills. That's right -- you people in your spandex and your carbon frames and your clippy pedals? Bubbye!

I also found myself talking to my bike a lot. At one point, I actually said "babe." Yes, my sanity may be questionable, but I think this means the relationship is official. I understand her gears now -- and we used them to our advantage Saturday -- so proud of my little green devil!

(Seriously, my bike is so cute. Swoon.)

The course was absolutely gorgeous -- imagine riding down winding country roads in the crisp air while leaves fall from the trees around you like confetti. Perfect autumn experience. (And how can you not call your bike "babe" when you're having what is clearly such a romantic date?)

Anyway, aside from the accident just before the turnaround point at Occidental (two older men down in the road, flat on their backs and being loaded onto stretchers while everyone else walked their bikes around) and the fact that my parts were simultaneously numb and chafed after the ride (it was so bad that it hurt to pee), I had a fantastic time and would definitely do it again -- although next time, with chamois cream.

(Added GranFondo perk: I spotted Patrick Dempsey in the VIP tent at the post-race festival. And perhaps even more awesome than McDreamy: I was standing at the finish line when Mark-Paul Gosselaar -- a.k.a. Zack from "Saved by the Bell" -- came across.)

And here's the biggest surprise of all: I don't know how on earth this happened, but when I checked the GranFondo results today, I discovered I came in second in my age group, with a total time of 2:38:29.2. And I was 17th for gender and 47th overall.

Seriously, WTF. This had to be the slowpoke group, right?

the healing process

2011-09-28T21:37:00.000-07:00

I suppose I am healing. It's been slow progress, but I think it's finally happening. It's no longer excruciating to pull myself out of bed into a standing position in the morning. And I'm no longer limping. And I am starting to run again.

Case in point: A little more than a week ago, I ran the Petaluma Moo Cow 5K with my dad.

Aren't we cute?

The 5K was not my original plan; I was supposed to run the half marathon and get a cowbell medal at the finish line, but there was absolutely no way I could've completed 13.1 extremely hilly miles in the shape I was in. So 3.1 it was.

Despite the fact that I didn't get a cowbell medal, I was pretty glad I wasn't running any farther. I started out much too fast on an uphill course, realized immediately that my cardio is just not what it was two months ago and basically just held on as best as I could until the turn-around. And then I held on again on the downhill and prayed my hip wouldn't punish me later.

Mile 1: 9:17
Mile 2: 9:02
Mile 3: 8:18 (Hooray for downhill speed!)
.11 mile at 7:37 pace

I ended up setting a new 5K PR at 27:24 with an 8:50 average pace. (This isn't actually my best 5K time -- I've run the distance faster, just not in a race.) I also came in seventh in my age group, which is the best I've ever done as far as age group ranking goes. (By the way, if you want to laugh, look up my Ukiah results. I ended up next-to-last in my age group! Wow. I knew I was slow, but man, talk about humbling. I really need more open water practice. But I digress.)

Since Moo Cow, I've run only one other time -- did a 5-miler this past Sunday. It started off ugly (seriously, my cardio is completely off -- I thought I was going to die during that first mile), but then I found my legs again and ended up averaging a 9:41 pace, which I'm happy with considering I've been out of the game so long. And there was no pain -- some awkwardness as my muscles tried to remember how to function, but otherwise OK. And I wasn't too sore afterward.

So things look promising. My physical therapist released me from treatment, and my chiropractor appointments are less frequent. And I'm back to doing full hour-long Pilates workouts again instead of 30-minute rehab sessions.

I'm hoping the healing process continues because I have two races coming up next month -- the Healdsburg Half Marathon on Oct. 16 and the Healdsburg Wine Country Half Marathon on Oct. 29. (Seriously, could the organizers have picked more confusing names?)

Oh, and because I really am certifiably crazy, I'm also doing the GranFondo on Saturday. Don't worry -- I'm not doing the full course, just the baby Piccolo route of 32 miles. Um, and in typical Michaela fashion, I haven't ridden my bike since Ukiah. I have, however, taken two spin classes. And I bought a cute pair of bike shorts. (I can't believe such a thing actually exists -- can spandex diapers really be "cute"?) Does that count?

pizza party

2011-09-22T23:21:00.000-07:00

My latest project at work: A wine education weekend for 13 food bloggers. The event started tonight with a formal food-and-wine pairing seminar, followed by a casual dinner with pizzas from the wood-fired oven.

I got to make my very own pie from scratch. (OK, so our chef made the dough. But I still got to stretch it and shape it, and I'm proud to say that I didn't tear it.) I topped my pizza with red sauce, Parmesan, mozzarella, button mushrooms, maitakes, a little garlic, dried oregano and fresh basil.

Let me take this moment to brag about the fact that I successfully placed my pizza in the oven and didn't lose any cheese or a single topping. I also turned the pizza without incident. (OK, well maybe my left wrist hurts now. But other than that, I rock at pizza-positioning.)

The finished pie cooled for a bit.

(Note the guy in the background. You can always pinpoint a blogger by the fact that he or she finds it next to impossible to stop taking photos. I am just as guilty.)

And then I added the basil, which was the final touch.

I know you wish I delivered!

ragnar

2011-09-17T22:35:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday night, and I'm typing this from bed. For some reason, I'm exhausted.

Maybe it's because last night was a late one -- a five-hour Ragnar Relay volunteer shift that ended after 10:30 p.m. (Funny how this all turned out -- I went from almost captaining a team to volunteering on behalf of Derrick's team, a.k.a. Team I Need More Cowbell. I guess if I can't run, helping someone else is the next best thing, right?)

I worked Exchange 11, which was at Petaluma Junior High.

Somehow I roped Emily into giving up her Friday night to keep me company.

As each runner approached the exchange, I made sure their teammate was waiting in the chute for the hand-off. This was especially exciting when the teams were in costume.

But it was sad when the teams were unprepared -- there were a few runners who made it to the exchange before the rest of their team, so they had to wait around and lost time. (In the photo above, that's what the guy in the background sitting on the rock is doing. Poor guy.)

Meanwhile, Emily tracked the time that each runner came in and passed off the baton (or in this case, the official Ragnar slap bracelet) to a teammate. The timing sheet looked like this:

As you can see, it involved the extremely high-tech tools of pen, paper and watch.

Our exchange was fairly busy until about 7:30 or so, and then things slowed down. And the sun set. And it got cold. I went to the end of the street (wrapped in a Mexican blanket and three layers of clothing, plus a reflective vest) to direct any runners coming in, and for awhile, on the dark corner, it was just me, this sign ...

... and a creepy rustling sound that turned out to be a baby possum.

I tried hard not to think of serial killers, zombies and hitch-hiking ghosts.

I'm a triathlete

2011-09-11T21:15:00.000-07:00

Sad panda has been replaced by ...

Triathlon panda!

Swim: .5 mile

I'll admit it: I was really worried I was going to be the dumbass who'd ruin this sign.

The fears didn't get any better this morning. (Look at all those people! And the wetsuits!)

As per usual, I totally freaked out in the water. All of the splashing and the flailing limbs and not being able to see the bottom of the lake and just feeling incredibly small in what seemed like a gigantic body of water really got to me. For a second, I thought about dropping out. And then I remembered that glorious thing called the backstroke: Yes, folks -- I backstroked half of that swim. And then I started thinking about the fact that I was backstroking a triathlon. And then I couldn't stop laughing. And then I was totally fine and ended up swimming the rest of the distance like a normal person. My swim time was absolutely horrible, and I'm almost certain I was the very last person from my wave out of the water, but whatever. It was comedy and I didn't drown and that's all that matters.

Bike: 21.7 miles

The swim-to-bike transition was pretty easy -- just threw on my shoes and socks (since I have lame paddle pedals, I was wearing running shoes) and strapped on my helmet and off I went. I think I was just so grateful to leave the swim behind me (what I love about the triathlon: there's no dwelling on the previous leg because you have to focus on the task at hand) that I didn't worry too much about the fact that my longest training ride was only 11.6 miles. (Seriously, I was not exaggerating when I said I was ridiculously unprepared for this event.)

My strategy? Enjoy the ride. And I did. I feel like my bike and I are in this new, young relationship -- the getting-to-know-you stage, if you will. So today's ride was another date -- deeper conversation this time, maybe covering more serious topics perhaps, but still a flirty little date as we rode past vineyards and funky mailboxes. (Apparently, the residents of Ukiah really enjoy decorating their mailboxes.) And it was fun. I found myself smiling the whole time. And I did get to pass a few people, too, which was nice. (By the way, I have a feeling my bike and I will have a long-term relationship. This is definitely more than just a crush -- she's hot and smart and athletic. Swoon.)

Run: 3.1 miles

Because my swim was so ridiculously slow, almost everyone was already running by the time I got to T2. As I was riding up, I thought to myself: Why are they all running funny? What the hell is wrong with them?

I soon found out. After an insanely fast transition (hooray for not having to change shoes), I started running. (Keep in mind that I did zero brick workouts prior to this. And I also hadn't run in more than a month due to my stupid tendonitis.) Talk about awkward: My legs felt like lead, my feet felt pigeon-toed, my ass felt like it had something stuck up it and my strides were so short it was like I was shuffling. I told myself just to put one foot in front of the other and reminded myself that this was my sport, this was what I loved -- and most importantly, this was the one thing I had been looking forward to doing all day.

The course started off on trails and wound down a hillside. After about a mile, I started feeling like myself again. I began to pass people. And not a single person passed me. I finished strong and really, really happy.

My overall time was pretty slow -- I think it was 2:36 or something like that. (It's not posted online yet, so I can't double-check.) But I don't really care -- I had a blast. And I think I'm hooked -- I definitely want to do this again.

Only next time, maybe with more swim practice.

pandas do not run or swim

2011-09-07T22:51:00.000-07:00

I think this pretty much describes it.

Today I officially deferred my New York entry and cancelled my trip. I guess Momofuku and Ippudo are going to have to wait until 2012.

I know it's for the best, but I still can't help feeling down.

In other uplifting news, apparently I totally suck at open water swimming. Sunday's swim at Lake Sonoma went something like this:

I waded into the lake. My friend said: "It feels like we're standing in diarrhea." I freaked out. There were boats, hence wakes. I freaked out. There were plants that wrapped around my arms. I freaked out. My friend said: "So. Are you planning to swim?" I said: "I think maybe I'll just tread water right here for awhile."

I tried again tonight at Johnson's Beach -- joined another friend for a swim clinic led by Echelon. Spent the first half of the swim freaking out while the coach yelled: "Are you OK?" over and over again. Finally I calmed down and was able to do some drills and practice starting the triathlon and then making the transition out of the water with the rest of the group.

And then when I got home and took my bathing suit off, my boobs were covered in green algae.

Dear god, Sunday is going to be pure comedy. I have no idea how on earth I'm going to pull off a tri.

commence freakout

2011-08-29T21:56:00.000-07:00

My plan was to go to bed early since I have to be at work at 4:45 a.m. tomorrow. (Yes, this is another project that involves a camera crew. Only this time I spend my day standing in a hot, dusty field, wearing a walkie-talkie and directing foot traffic. But it will be worth it in the end. And wearing a walkie-talkie is kind of cool. Trust me.)

Anyway, so I was about to go to bed. And then I checked my e-mail and saw this:

Crap.

Let me just briefly list the reasons I am freaking out right now:

Race day is less than two weeks away.
I haven't done a single brick workout.
In fact, I haven't run in three weeks. (Don't ask. Talking about not running makes me want to start crying.)
Nor have I biked more than eight miles. (And when I did that, I rear-ended my friend at a stoplight in front of a lot of people and it was embarrassing.) And just for the record: Spin class doesn't count.
I'm easily swimming the half-mile distance (and getting faster each time I do it), but I haven't done it in open water. With people kicking me in the face. And a whole wave of male triathletes threatening to swim over me if I don't get out of the way fast enough.
I've developed a new (and ridiculous) fear: What if someone barfs during the swim and I swim into it? With my mouth open?
Also, the triathlon participant letter included three pages of rules. If my brain hasn't already exploded from worrying about all of the above, trying to decipher exactly what it is I'm supposed to do on race morning (not to mention pack -- dear god, triathlons involve clothing changes!) is definitely going to make my mind spin.

Seriously: What was I thinking when I signed up for this?

explanations

2011-08-22T21:39:00.000-07:00

And the whole time I thought the reason was an unstoppable river of poo flowing beneath the city.

what happened?

2011-08-19T16:31:00.000-07:00

First, there was travel: The annual national sales meeting, which meant long days of presentations and workshops, followed by long nights of this:

However, I did get to introduce my co-workers to a real bowl of ramen.

Apparently, the kotteri miso from Kahoo is exactly what you need to cure a hangover.

Then there was Chicago, where I met this guy.

He's very serious.

I also ate a really good Scotch egg from Jam, drank Slovenian wine for the first time, fell headfirst into a heaping plate of buttery black truffle pasta and discovered the Southside (Oxley gin, mint, lemon and egg white -- yum).

Then: The triathlon. That’s right. You heard me. For some completely insane reason, I signed up for the Ukiah tri, which means I have about three weeks left to train. (Thank god, I finally just recently bought a bike. Isn’t she pretty?)

I feel like I spend every spare second swimming, obsessing over biking (note that I am not actually biking, since the bike is so recent that I don't even own a helmet yet, so I haven't actually ridden) or doing Pilates.

In other words, basically doing everything except running. In fact, I can't run right now.

Which brings me to the next issue: Injury. The rec fem thing has morphed into tendonitis, which has resulted in frustration, anger and tearful, mid-Pilates emotional breakdowns.

And I might have to defer New York because at this point, it looks like I'm only going to have 10 weeks left to prepare. And that's assuming I don't re-injure myself.

Putting on my brave face now.

the pre-race report

2011-08-02T21:34:00.000-07:00

I know I am dragging out this race report, but I am still pretty surprised I finished SF. Some less-than-stellar decisions were made before I reached the start line.

Case in point: Bowling. On Friday -- the very first day my hip and rec fem actually felt better and I wasn't pain every time I stood up -- I thought it would be a good idea to hurl a 9-pound ball at a bunch of pins. (Don't laugh. I'm small. Nine is all I can handle.)

As you can see by my absolutely hideous form, this was a poor, poor choice. I aggravated my hip all over again. The worst part? My high score of the night was 52. So not worth the pain.

And then there was the night before the race. Neveia and I were sharing a hotel room, and we ended up having one of those heart-to-heart, god-I-have-the-best-friends-in-the-whole-world conversations. And before we knew it, it was after midnight. And our start time was 6:02 a.m. Oops. I think I got maybe three hours of sleep max before the race.

Thank god I had the sense to make some good choices too. First, there was the KT tape. I taped my hip flexor myself, and then a physical therapist at the expo taped my knee.

And then of course, I had to channel some cat power.

Because nothing says "tough" like a fat housecat tattoo.

and so we meet again, sf

2011-08-01T22:13:00.000-07:00

So I ran SF after all. It was tough. I almost ended it with a DNF -- in fact, I was thisclose to dropping out at Mile 7.

Instead, I finished strong and knocked almost seven minutes off of my time from last year.

I'm too tired (and sore -- so unbelievably sore) to write a full report tonight (and go into detail about the near-DNF), but let's just say when it comes to a headstrong, stubborn girl vs. physical pain, the girl wins.

Especially when she's wrapped in a shitload of KT tape.

terrible timing

2011-07-28T16:48:00.000-07:00

Spent the afternoon researching food bloggers for work and then realized: Crap, I haven't blogged in ages.

Instead, I have been seeing my fix-me specialists, trying to figure out how to get rid of the psoas/rectus femoris issue that has been plaguing me for the past week. The chiropractor said my hips are crooked. The massage therapist said I need to strengthen my hamstrings and my glutes. The Pilates teacher said I should seriously re-think my plans for San Francisco.

I haven't run since Sunday, and that day was a mere six-miler. (Granted, it was a fast one -- quite possibly my fastest six miles ever. The photo above was taken when I was waiting post-run for everyone else to finish. True, they were all running farther. But still. It was nice to be first for once.) The pain isn't too bad when I've been moving around -- in fact, it lessens with activity. But going from sitting to standing (or -- even worse -- attempting to get out of bed and stand) is pretty damn excruciating.

I feel old. And kind of sad. Just as I was finally getting faster, finally starting to regularly see a pace in the high- to mid-8s, this happens.

And let's not forget that race day is three days away. SF, will you forever be the race I associate with injury?

misunderstanding

2011-07-19T21:48:00.000-07:00

I read this as 5 x 400, followed by one 600. And I thought: Man, track is going to be super-easy today!

Oh, how I was mistaken.

Today's workout was five sets of both a 400 and a 600. And by the second set, I kind of wanted to die.

Why?

Because my stupid left hip started acting up. (Sorry -- couldn't resist the pun with the silly Shakira video.) It's been sore on and off for the past few weeks, and after the extremely hilly 12-miler I did on Saturday (I chose the hilliest route I could think of to prepare for San Francisco), it was bothering me more than normal. My hip is so tight that it's pulling on my rectus femoris, and basically my upper quad and lower abdominal area pretty much hate me right now.

Anyway, I still gutted out the workout. Clearly, this was not the smartest decision, but it did result in my fastest 400 ever (1:40), and I was fairly consistent with my 600s (2:45, pretty consecutively). Also, I am now officially no longer the last person in the track group. Hooray for me, right?

That said, I am seeing my chiropractor Thursday, my Pilates teacher Friday and my massage therapist Monday. The hip needs a little professional help.

take to the sky

2011-07-18T22:07:00.000-07:00

I've been in a helicopter exactly three times in my life. (Thankfully, none of those times involved being airlifted out of Annadel.)

The first time was back in my journalism days, when I covered Camp Roberts. The National Guard was doing a training exercise, and I took a military helicopter out to the "battleground." Pretty cool to fly with the door open and see the golden rolling hills unfold beneath me. (What was not cool: Later, I had to pee by penlight in a port-a-potty. And then I dropped my reporter's notebook on the floor of said port-a-potty and had to make the awful decision: Do I abandon it and lose all info, or do I touch germs? I went with germs. Shudder.)

The second time was in Tasmania. Happily, no port-a-potties were involved. Instead, there were views of white sand and ocean. And a tricky landing between some powerlines. That pilot had mad skills. (On a side note, every time I think of Tasmania, I think of pie. And then I become hungry.)

And the third time? This past Friday. I took a wine writer out for an aerial tour of the vineyards. Sonoma County is so pretty.

We also flew over Annadel.

From the air, the trails looked like ribbons.

volunteering

2011-07-17T20:23:00.000-07:00

Clearly, volunteering at Vineman today was rough.

Not only did Layla beat me silly with this Gatorade stirrer, but I was forced to watch elite athletes in spandex do amazing things, all while I drank Irish coffee. (The last part was my idea -- I figured if I was going to volunteer for hours, I might as well maximize my time.)

I was at the aid station at the bike/run transition. I said the word "water" more times than I ever imagined possible. And there were a few moments when I thought my arm was going to get ripped off by a very forceful water-grabber. But it was fun. And I liked being able to help out.

doughnut power

2011-07-11T21:49:00.000-07:00

As you can see, I finally made it to Dynamo Donuts. (Crossing another one off of the list!)

The fried dough haven served as the starting point for Jessa's birthday scavenger hunt last Saturday.

I was immediately overwhelmed as soon as I walked in the door. The doughnut menu was just so awesome -- caramel de sel, banana de leche, candied orange blossom! I couldn't choose just one doughnut, so I got two: Passionfruit milk chocolate and lemon pistachio. (Confession: I actually dropped the passionfruit doughnut on the ground on my way out to the patio. But instead of crying, I picked it up and ate it anyway. Mmmm. Dirt.)

The verdict? Sweet. Very sweet. So sweet I kind of had an insane sugar rush afterward. But perhaps the sugar rush helped because my team created this ridiculous video ...

... and went on to win the scavenger hunt.

running thoughts

2011-07-05T22:19:00.000-07:00

I love how you meet random people at races and end up running with them. I met this dude during the last mile or so of Kenwood, and we pushed each other to the finish. There's nothing like gasping words of encouragement to a total stranger and then sharing a high-five when you cross the line.

Similarly awesome: Seeing people you met at previous races. Case in point: Maniacal Laughter Guy (whose real name is Chi, in case you're wondering). He was at Kenwood too -- and wearing his maniacal headphones, which meant he was probably also listening to his maniacal podcast. Yes!

*

Most of the time when I'm running, I'm thinking about food. (Duh. Why else do I run in the first place?) I think about what kind of eggs I'd like for breakfast (usually poached, unless I'm cooking, and then I'll go with custard-style scrambled with Asiago and truffle salt). I also think about salty things, like fries and Kettle Chips and hash browns. And then there's ramen. Which has eggs and is salty. Dear ramen: Why are you so perfect?

If I'm not thinking about food, I do body scans. Head to toe. How is my alignment? Are my shoulders relaxed? Am I using my arms? Is my right foot turned out? Am I aiming forward and not bouncing up and down?

*

Lately, I've been worried that I've become dependent on running with other people. Other than the 3 x 1600 I did last Friday (this was pre-cake-baking and also contributed to why I stayed up so late because I had to wait until the weather cooled down before I could run), I've run either with my group, with a friend or with Todd.

I seem to push myself more when I'm with others. (Confession: It's possible I would've wimped out on my sub-2 attempt if Matt hadn't been there.) Also, it's harder to flake on a workout when someone else is involved.

*

I don't listen to music while running because I want to hear cars and evil assailants if they approach. That said, I do hype myself up with music on the way to a race. Yesterday, it was all about Joan Jett. And of course, "Super Bass." What can I say? I'm obsessed.

sleepless

2011-07-04T17:15:00.000-07:00

I've gotten a total of maybe 14 hours of sleep over the past three nights combined. (I'll explain.) But somehow I still managed to cut almost four minutes off of my Kenwood Footrace time this morning -- finished in 58:16, compared to last year's 1:02:07. Not too shabby, especially considering the heat (it was one of those drink-one-cup-pour-one-cup-over-my-head situations at the aid stations) and the hills (my downfall last year -- I started too fast and died on the second hill -- by the end, it was all I could do to keep from walking).

But enough about running. You're probably wondering why the hell I'm a sleepless zombie.

Reason 1: The cake.

beet cake from tiger in a jar on Vimeo.

When I saw this video, I thought this beet cake would be nothing short of perfect for Todd's birthday party (both of us love beets so much that we actually have "Eat your beets" engraved in our wedding rings -- it's a Tom Robbins reference), which we hosted Saturday. Unfortunately, my baking experience wasn't as lovely as the one in the film. The weather on Friday was pretty much an inferno, so I had to wait until the evening to avoid adding sweat to the cake's ingredient list.

As a result, I was baking until 2 a.m. And then woke up at 6 a.m. the following morning to continue the party preparations. (The menu included two salads, marinated portobello mushrooms, veggie burgers made from scratch and watermelon cocktails. I love cooking vegetarian meals, but prepping all those vegetables takes a long-ass time.)

Reason 2: The party.

Note to self: When you make the decision to introduce vodka to what is normally a described as a "raw food smoothie high in vitamins," you have chosen a very special road.

Perhaps one that can only lead to even more drastic decisions.

Reason 3: The hotness.

OK, so maybe that's not really how I define "hot." I'm talking weather here. I spent yesterday in the city with Christina (we toured the SF Armory, hence the photo of bondage gear); you know temperatures have hit new heights when you can spend the entire day in San Francisco without a sweater.

ramen monster

2011-06-30T22:42:00.000-07:00

First there was Monday.

This is the miso ramen from Hotei, a Japanese noodle house in the Inner Sunset. It was enormous -- more like a bathtub than a bowl. I made a valiant attempt, but I didn't even get halfway through. (And just for the record, bigger isn't always better: This bowl was fine, but not my favorite. The egg wasn't slow-cooked, the chashu was a little tough and the broth was just OK. But I think my recent journey to San Jose may have clouded my judgment a little!)

And since once is never enough, we celebrated Todd's birthday tonight with an amazing dinner at Hana in Rohnert Park. That's right -- we finally found really delicious ramen here in Sonoma County!

Hana usually only serves ramen at lunch, but we asked our server if there was any left, and she made it happen for us: A steaming bowl of shoyu broth with that magical slow-cooked egg that I love so much (I don't know why this isn't standard at other places) and the fattiest chashu I've had yet -- like a straight-up meat sponge of fattiness. (It was actually so fatty that I couldn't eat it. Texture thing.) Delish! We will definitely be back for more.

And the rest of the Hana menu is fantastic too: We tried the maitake mushroom tempura, grilled asparagus with creamy black sesame sauce and the "egg paradise" -- a poached egg with two kinds of fish roe and sea urchin. (Seriously, normally I am not a sea urchin fan -- again, a texture thing -- but this was incredible. Weird at first, yes, but worth the pay-off.)

double digits

2011-06-26T20:55:00.000-07:00

This morning's 10-miler is the farthest I've run since Windsor.

And just in case we need to remember Windsor, this is what a sub-2 half marathon finish looks like:

After that race, I gave myself a little break and cut my weekly mileage by about 50 percent. Work also got really hectic, and then we went out of town two weekends in a row. As a result, my runs were three- and four-milers, squeezed in whenever and wherever I could. (The good part: Todd has started running again, so we've been doing most of these shorter runs together, and it's been a lot of fun.)

But I'm back now -- ran with the Turtles and did much better than I expected. When I woke up this morning, I wasn't sure if I'd run 10 -- especially since my longest run in a month was the six-miler I did Thursday -- but when I got out there, I felt great.

I ended up running those 10 miles at a 9:32 average pace. This is pretty much an entire minute faster than what I was aiming for. According to my training plan for SF (which I created using Runner's World's SmartCoach tool, because I'm too lazy to write one up myself and also because I wanted to experiment with having a target pace for each run), I was supposed to run at 10:30. But like I said, I felt good today, so I just went with it. Not sure what it means for training, though.

my shame

2011-06-24T21:30:00.000-07:00

We went to the fair tonight.

I saw this sign.

I succumbed.

And now I feel really, really disgusting. Fried gluten is not a smart idea.

Note to self: Just because they're vegetables, that doesn't mean they're healthy.

really?

2011-06-22T21:29:00.000-07:00

Our big work event is three days away. A national gardening magazine has even flown out to wine country to cover it. (In fact, I just got back from meeting them for dinner.)

But the flowers aren't blooming. They don't even look like they're close. And how on earth can you have a lavender festival without the lavender?

*

Tonight: A series of e-mails back and forth between different members of my track group, looking for carpools to the Double Dipsea and wishing each other good luck at the Western States 100 (yes, as in 100 miles of running) this weekend.

Way to make me feel like a winner, folks. I'll be lucky if I get a 9-miler in any time soon.

weekend of ramen, part 2

2011-06-21T21:33:00.000-07:00

To continue this tale of gluttony ...

On Sunday on our way back from Watsonville, we pulled out our ramen list ...

... and decided to stop at Kahoo, whose shoyu soup has been called "quite possibly the best ramen ... outside of Japan" by this blogger.

I was all set to order the shoyu until I started perusing the menu ...

... and the kotteri miso -- a thicker, heartier, garlicky broth -- caught my eye. So despite the sweltering heatwave (seriously, I really hate the weather we're having right now), I went big.

Nothing about this bowl was shy. If it were a wine, it would definitely be Napa Valley Cab. I felt completely indulgent slurping this down, especially when I got to the chashu -- man, talk about fatty, melty goodness! (Yes, I am a bad vegetarian, but only when it comes to ramen. All exceptions are made for ramen. I live by interesting rules, I know.)

Anyway, I'm now recovering from my ramen bender. I hit the gym last night with Cara -- we're trying to meet once a week to lift. (By the way, I am so sore today that it hurts to laugh.) And I ran this morning and went to Pilates tonight (don't you love double days? I do). And I've finally put my training plan together for the SF Half (less than six weeks left to prepare -- yikes).

Ramen = Why I run.

weekend of ramen, part 1

2011-06-20T21:10:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's Monday, but I'm still dreaming of the weekend.

That would be Todd's shoyu ramen from Ramen Halu in San Jose.

We drove south to Watsonville for the weekend, and since the Bay Area's best ramen is in the South Bay, we thought we'd stop for a bowl on the way down and another on the way up.

Halu tops quite a few ramen lists, so we chose it for our first stop.

It was hot out, so I went the tsuke-men route. Dipping noodles in broth seemed more appealing than slurping a big bowl of hot soup.

Confession: Before this, I had never had tsuke-men before. And I soon discovered it requires skill. In fact, I was downright confused when my order arrived, since Halu's tsuke-men comes with two broths: a rich, intense, red-hued broth and a clear, almost flavorless broth served in what looks like a tea mug. I had no idea what to do with the latter. (I realize now that I was supposed to cut the richer broth with the clear broth after I finished my noodles and toppings so I could then drink the rest of the broth. Next time, I'll have to try this!)

My next mistake: I ordered corn as an additional topping. With a regular bowl, this would've been no problem. With tsuke-men, it was next to impossible to eat. The corn kept falling off my chopsticks or drowning in the broth.

I ended up dumping all of these kernels into the dipping broth and then using Todd's spoon (the tsuke-men didn't come with one), to scoop the corn back out. (And yes, the broth on its own was extremely rich -- no wonder you're supposed to use the clear broth to cut it!)

Despite my fumbling, unsophisticated tsuke-men eating technique, I loved Ramen Halu. It reminded me a lot of Shoki -- subtle flavors, unpretentious food and just downright delicious. I definitely want to go back and try the tsuke-men again and a regular bowl as well!

sometimes we need a hug

2011-06-14T22:36:00.001-07:00

I know we've all seen it. But the cuteness drives me to watch it over and over and over again.

exhale, then inhale your food

2011-06-13T21:54:00.000-07:00

To recover from the work insanity, we headed south to San Diego. What can be more calming than an afternoon at the beach?

It's all about finding a good work-life balance, right?

Or perhaps -- and more importantly -- it's about finding Japanese food heaven. Our discovery: Mitsuwa Marketplace. I had to try really hard to keep from squealing with delight.

When we walked into the store, we were greeted by an okonomiyaki stand. I just love these Japanese pancakes! (Side note: I am mad for Kewpie mayonnaise.)

The store itself is massive. There is an entire section devoted to nothing but pickled food. (I really wanted to buy the pickled umeboshi plums, but alas, I wasn't traveling with a cooler and couldn't keep them refrigerated.) And I just about died for the Japanese makeup, too -- I came home with some sparkly nailpolish!

But the best part -- the absolute best part -- was the ramen. Yes, folks, Mitsuwa has a ramen stand called Santouka.

I ordered a bowl of their miso ramen with some rice and an egg on the side.

So, so incredibly good.

the jib

2011-06-08T22:30:00.000-07:00

Today: Eleven hours spent with the jib crew, shooting B-roll with a camera attached to an 18-foot pole.

Honestly, I find it miraculous that nothing was broken and no one was accidentally hit over the head.

We shot tasting rooms and bottles and cellars.

And gardens.

And we took a very tasty lunch break. (Because if you're going to work in wine, you might as well enjoy the perks, right?)

Oh, spring vegetable risotto! Favas, how I love you!

But the best part was the barrel room. Imagine 300,000 square feet of cellar filled with 65,000 barrels. And all of the lights are on a motion sensor system. And it is after-hours, so the only people there are two camera operators and little old me.

Guess who got to sprint up and down row after row of barrels to keep the lights from turning off?

Man, it was fun -- probably one of my most memorable runs!

working for the weekend

2011-06-07T21:50:00.000-07:00

Contrary to what you may think, I have not run away to live with the semi-feral cats that inhabit the Lagunitas parking lot.

Rather, my silence is due to the TV crew that is currently absorbing all of my attention, prompting me to work eight days in a row (and yesterday was an 11-hour day that began at 6:30 a.m.), wake up at 4:40 a.m. due to early morning dear-god-have-I-forgotten-something panic attacks and lose my appetite to the point where the only thing I want to ingest is green juice.

And this madness will continue for another 48 hours.

A few things I have learned throughout this process:

There is no time to wash dishes or throw anything in the trash. Collecting empty beverage containers on your desk is much easier.

What a jib is.

It is completely possible to have your cell phone, desk phone and text messaging all go off at the same time, while you are already on a phone call.

It is also completely possible to be expected to simultaneously write a draft, look for a logo, pick up bottles of wine, order a banner, call three people, plan an event and hunt down wardrobe items.

Camera crews look like they just rolled out of bed for a reason. With each day of filming, my fashion has become progressively worse. By Thursday I will likely be wearing pajama pants, a sweatshirt, clogs and a fanny pack.

obsessions

2011-06-02T20:33:00.000-07:00

Hills. It's hard to tell in this picture, but I am actually second (teal shirt). That's right: Second. This has never happened before -- I'm usually toward the back of the pack, maybe mid-pack if it's a good day. But apparently last Sunday's hill repeats were just my style. Let's hope I can keep it up. My next two races will be climbers: I'm planning to run Kenwood and San Francisco again.

Pilates. I can't say enough about my Pilates teacher. I feel like I show up in her studio each week with all of my weird tweaks and aches from running, and she fixes me. Also, it is an amazing thing to start the day with a 6 a.m. reformer workout.

This song. It makes me feel like I'm in high school again, only in a good way. As in the let's-ditch-class-and-go-to-the-beach-because-we're-skinny-bitches-who-live-in-SoCal-and-wear-flip-flops way. (I know, right? I can't believe I just typed that, either. Maybe I'm having a mid-life crisis. Can you have a mid-life crisis in your 30s?)

Instagram. Because it's just so much fun to take photos that look like this.

And this.

And this.

wishful thinking

2011-05-31T20:42:00.000-07:00

If I eat summer food, will it make summer get here faster?

Tonight: A salad of fava beans, corn and sundried tomatoes, topped with the amazing Cyprus black lava salt we got from the Spice Station in Santa Monica, during our last trip to L.A.

at the noodle bar

2011-05-27T19:25:00.000-07:00

At last: Friday.

And the end of a ramen dry spell. (Can you believe it's been more than a month since my last bowl?)

A few co-workers and I went to Shimo today for lunch. This relatively new restaurant got its start as a high-end steakhouse that only served ramen at the bar, but the steak didn't do so well while the ramen grew in popularity. Now Shimo is all noodles, all the time -- with just a touch of steak.

The Shimo menu is pretty simple: Choose your noodles (ramen or soba), choose your broth (shoyu, miso, shiso ginger dashi or vegetarian) and then add any extra toppings you may want.

There are also a few appetizer options. We ordered the okonomiyaki, a Japanese mountain yam pancake topped with bonito flakes. (Note the sake in the background. What can I say? It's been a stressful week.)

It was pretty amazingly awesome.

Then the noodles came. My co-workers all went with the shiso ginger dashi, but I wanted to get back to basics. I chose shoyu ramen with a slow-cooked egg and pickled ramps.

Fat noodles!

The verdict? OK. Not earth-shattering. I like Katana-ya and even Suzu better. But I'm pretty happy that at least I can get ramen in Sonoma County now. Added plus: The service at Shimo was fantastic. And bowls start at just $8.

what next?

2011-05-23T23:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday: Glowy and happy and huggy at the finish line with my co-workers. (By the way, it's pretty cool that so many people I work with love running. Wine and runners? Now that's a perfect pairing!)

Today: Sort of confused about what I'm supposed to do next. I feel lost without a goal. Good thing I have this to look forward to.

Dear New York: May you finally be the one marathon where I don't feel like dying at Mile 20.

Also: Momofuku, here I come.

at last, sub-2

2011-05-22T19:56:00.000-07:00

This is Matt.

Today we had an adventure. And that adventure involved him pacing me to a sub-2 half marathon.

It began when I showed up and immediately started listing all the reasons I was probably going to crash and burn: My left hamstring feels weird. The weather is too sunny. I am wearing old shoes. I went to the port-a-potty and looked in the bowl and it was horrific and all I could think of was I am peeing on someone's poo and then the thought of that plus the smell made me start gagging and then I almost puked. Oh, and by the way, I think I may have to pee again.

I am surprised he ran with me at all.

But he did, and I ran faster and harder than I ever have before.

Matt, Arvan and I started off running together. We passed hot air balloons lifting off. They sounded like whales surfacing. And we talked a lot about "The Vampire Diaries" because Matt is also obsessed.

Mile 1: 8:55
Mile 2: 8:42
Mile 3: 8:47

At some point, Arvan said he felt heavy. And this turned into a discussion about poo. Of course. Because if you're around me, everything eventually becomes a conversation about poo.

Mile 4: 8:57
Mile 5: 8:57

Then we started the gradual climb to Eastside Road. I was heating up. (I don't care if it sounds like I'm whining -- it really was too sunny out there.) I began taking two cups from the aid stations – one to drink, and one to dump on my head.

Mile 6: 9:40

We ran into -- of all people –- Maniacal Laughter Guy! And he remembered us from the Santa Rosa Half! And he had his headphones in and was listening to podcasts again! But unfortunately, no laughter this time. Although his compression calf sleeves and bright orange shoes still sort of made him look devilish. He told us he was chasing sub-2 also. The four of us ran together for awhile.

Mile 7: 8:50
Mile 8: 8:55

Arvan dropped back. I immediately missed him. I had been hoping we'd sub-2 together. Also, I realized I was hurting, too -- my butt and hamstrings began to ache. And I found myself wishing for downhills -- anything so I could build momentum and take the work out of my legs.

Mile 9: 9:22
Mile 10: 9:42

Matt announced we had to run at least 9:30-pace miles to hit our target. I was fading fast -- my legs hurt, and my mind was slipping into thoughts of woe: That grass looks comfortable. That curb looks nice. Gee, I wish I could just walk or maybe lie down or perhaps just call someone to come get me. Matt began making some kind of animal noise, just to distract me.

Mile 11: 9:30

Matt kept asking me if I had any kick left. I said no. He said: "I know how to make you run faster." I said: "How?" He said: "I just ripped a big one." Somehow, I found some kick.

Mile 12: 9:26

If your pacer threatens to chase you, you discover you can do anything for one more mile. Even if you feel like you are breaking and could potentially projectile vomit.

Mile 13: 9:16
.12 miles at 7:14 pace

Official: 13.1 miles at 1:59:54 / Garmin: 13.11 miles at 1:59:55

I just barely squeaked in under the 2-hour mark (and almost took out four walkers who were finishing the 5K while I was at it). I wanted to cry and laugh and collapse all at the same time. There were sweaty hugs for all.

And now I am trying really, really hard not to think about how much I'd like a 1:55 next time.

because you've been waiting

2011-05-19T21:33:00.000-07:00

I guess I should tell you about the Santa Barbara Wine Country Half, which took place way back on May 7.

First of all, the race wasn't actually in Santa Barbara proper. It started off in Santa Ynez, went through Los Olivos (right past one of the tasting rooms I represent, in fact) and then ended in Solvang.

Ah, Solvang. California's "Danish town," where tourists take pictures of windmills and eat a lot of aebleskivers, which are like pancake balls.

But I digress. As I was saying before I was interrupted by spherical food covered in powdered sugar, the Santa Barbara race started in Santa Ynez. The weather was perfect -- 50s, overcast. And I had zero expectations because I had spent the week before riding camels and shaking red sand out of my shoes. I felt underprepared, and my goal was simply to enjoy a weekend trip with my running friends and not humiliate myself in public.

I started off slowly, running with Neveia and Sammy. There were a few small rollers as we left Santa Ynez. Sammy eventually dropped back, and I let Neveia go –- she seemed to be picking up speed, and I was worried about starting too fast.

Mile 1 10:09

As the course headed out of town, past Arabian horse ranches and meadows, something totally unexpected happened: It was like my legs just turned on and found their rhythm and I just stopped thinking about them. And before I knew it, I had upped the pace. The rolling hills felt great -- I tried to use gravity and momentum from each downhill to pull me up the uphills.

Mile 2 9:37
Mile 3 9:19

When I saw my Mile 3 split, I started worrying I was going too fast and was going to crash later on, so I slowed slightly.

Mile 4 9:39

Around this point I think I passed Neveia, but I’m not entirely sure where it happened. She said she saw me, but I didn’t see her. Anyway, I kept going. I felt good and suddenly it hit me: I might be able to PR.

I also realized this race was exceptionally quiet -- not a lot of spectators, and barely any talking among the runners. I actually kind of liked it -- it was nice not to have to listen to other people's conversations. I also really enjoyed the view -- this course was the absolute prettiest I've ever run: Green hills with terraced vineyards, yellow mustard flowers, an antique car here and there. It was like postcard after postcard.

Mile 5 9:12
Mile 6 9:19

I left Los Olivos and hit Corkscrew Hill. This is one of those hills where you look up and see runners zig-zagging to the top and wonder: Really? I’m really going to run up there?

And then somehow, you just do it. And you don’t stop. I passed Arvan on the way up. He had just run Avenue of the Giants the weekend before, so he was feeling tired. I tried to him to keep going, but he waved me on.

Mile 7 9:57

On the way down, I passed Lee Anne, who said she was having problems with her calves. I also saw some buffalo and longhorn cattle.

Mile 8 8:46
Mile 9 8:19

And so I started to pick people off. I knew I had a shot at sub-2, and I wanted it. First, there was the girl in the red sports bra and white shorts (I nicknamed her Marathon Barbie). Then there was the woman in a blue shirt and blue shorts (a.k.a. She Looks Kind of Like Someone I Know, But She's Not). And then the guy in the black T-shirt (who was yelling when everyone else was quiet). I targeted them all and ran them down.

Mile 10 8:25
Mile 11 8:31

Everything was going well until I hit a long gradual climb in the Chalk Hill neighborhood outside Solvang. I suddenly felt tired, and I had to will myself to get up the hill and keep going. I think if you had been running next to me, you would have heard me talking to myself. And possibly almost grunting.

Mile 12 9:21

Another short uphill through a neighborhood before a downhill to the finish in the heart of Solvang. I knew I was close, so I was giving it my all at this point.

Mile 13 8:27

And then there was the fake finish line. The race was using the Jaguar timing system, which meant chips were tagged by running through arches instead of over mats. There was an arch maybe 100 or 200 yards away from the actual finish line, and I thought it was the finish. I sprinted toward it and then slowed down and actually turned off my watch, only to realize the real finish line was still in front of me!

.21 miles 7:52 pace

Official: 13.1 miles at 2:00:28 / Garmin: 13.21 miles at 2:00:41

While I was happy and very surprised by how well I ran, I felt a little heartbroken at the same time. I was so close to a sub-2 finish. So close.

Anyway, we spent the rest of the weekend playing tourist and eating.

strategizing

2011-05-18T20:44:00.000-07:00

I drove the Windsor Green course on my lunch break today. I know I've run this race before, and rural Windsor is one of my favorite road-running routes, but I still felt compelled to do some recon and mark every hill firmly in my mind. (Also, work has been so stressful lately that I just needed to get out and focus on something else besides budgeting for the next fiscal year.)

This is the elevation I'll be dealing with:

Not too bad. One gradual climb at Mile 5. Some smallish rollers throughout. And a flat finish. (Which will be nice because the two hills at the end of the Santa Barbara Wine Country race are what I think killed my sub-2 finish there.)

My strategy for Sunday (assuming, of course, the world doesn't end): Run with people who will challenge me. I'm meeting my friend Matt, who runs about an 8:40 pace, and our plan is to try to stick together the entire time. I've never run with him before, so I have no idea what this will be like, but he says he's a talker and will keep me entertained for all 13.1 miles.

Based on my splits from Santa Barbara (and yes, I realize I still haven't written my race report or posted photos of aebleskivers), I think I'll be able to keep up with him. I just need to make sure I'm warmed up properly first and that everything is in working order -- good diet, rested legs, etc.

And so the countdown continues.

apocalypse now

2011-05-16T21:50:00.000-07:00

By now, you've probably heard the world is going to end Saturday. (Here in Chickenland, I am reminded nearly every day.)

And while I don't believe the apocalypse is upon us, I can't stop thinking about it. If I am four days away from being crushed in a "global earthquake" (and yes, that is a direct quote), this means I will never get to eat ramen in Tokyo or run a sub-2 half marathon (in fact, I will apparently die a sad sinner's death just hours before my next PR attempt). I will never own a house or a Chanel purse. I will never finish watching "Lawrence of Arabia" (every time we try, Todd falls asleep) or taste the wine we've been aging (all those Cabs going to waste!).

And this makes me more determined to live, as much as I possibly can.

Also, I would really like to see the May 21st-ers in a showdown with the 2012-ers. Bets, anyone?

return of the tutu

2011-05-15T20:03:00.000-07:00

I think I kind of love Bay to Breakers. The tortilla frisbees at the startline. The salmon. Hauling up Hayes Street Hill. The totally inappropriate-yet-impossible-to-look-away nudity.

And the company. Had a great time with the Turtles. There were mimosas on the bus on the way down and beer on the way back. And everyone wore tutus.

(That's me in the black tutu -- I did the devil thing this year with fishnets and horns.)

An added plus: Somehow I finished in 1:14:58 -- almost three minutes faster than last year. And I was in a slower corral. And I wasn't actually trying.

Yes.

in pajamas

2011-05-14T19:41:00.000-07:00

I'm blogging from bed -- even though it's still light out -- because tomorrow is Bay to Breakers. The start time has been moved to 7 a.m. this year, so the bus I'm taking from Santa Rosa is leaving at the painful hour of 4:45 a.m., which means I'll probably have to wake up around 3 a.m. to get ready. Ouch.

As far as costumes go, mine will probably be similar to last year. (Sorry for the repeat, but I have a feeling I won't want to get creative that early in the morning. Also, the tutu was surprisingly comfortable.)

And as for strategy, I just want to have a good time. I want to get the mileage in, but I don't want to race. It's going to be too packed out there to run hard, and with Windsor coming up next weekend, I'm just trying to rest up and maintain so I can be ready to try again for a sub-2.

*

In other news, recently I received this e-mail.

Hilarious that the race that kicked my ass is just so thoughtful.

sweet finish

2011-05-09T22:35:00.000-07:00

Back from the Central Coast! Saturday's race exceeded all expectations in every possible way, from my performance (missed a PR by a mere 10 seconds and came very close to a sub-2 finish), to the course (hands down the most beautiful race I've ever run, with lots of rollers to keep things interesting), to the medal (which as you can see, is ridiculously cute). And as always, the company was fantastic -- I love my Turtles!

However, I am exhausted right now (had an early morning at one of our Central Coast wineries today and then made the six-hour drive back to Chickenland), so the race report (and accompanying photos of pre- and post-race food) will have to wait.

from sand to santa barbara

2011-05-06T06:30:00.001-07:00

This is what I've been doing with my running shoes lately. (Yes, they're under there, buried in the sand of Wadi Rum.)

In other words, I haven't run much since Annadel.

Which is why I am completely freaked out over tomorrow's Santa Barbara Wine Country Half Marathon.

First of all, I only ran once in Jordan. (Women don't really seem to run outside there, so my workout was on a hotel treadmill, which was in kilometers, which made me so confused that I think I only ended up running about 2.5 miles.) I feel incredibly out of shape.

Second, my body is completely off from the almost 24 hours of traveling to get back to the U.S. My knees still hurt from sitting for so long.

And finally: The weather. It's heating up here in Chickenland -- 70 degrees at 6 p.m. -- yuck! And I can't imagine it will be any cooler in down south. And running in the heat is no fun.

Tomorrow will definitely be interesting. At least Neveia and a few other Turtles are running too (we're all staying in a condo together), so the trip itself will be fun. The race, however, may be another story.

shukran

2011-05-04T21:49:00.000-07:00

It's how you say "thank you" in Arabic.

And it's what I said often last week when we were in Jordan. (Which, by the way, is why I haven't written in awhile.)

Shukran for the impromptu after-hours tour ...

... the marriage of lemon and mint ...

... and the generosity of an Arabic breakfast.

Shukran for spectacular sunsets ...

... and the call to prayer.

Shukran for the furry ones ...

... the hungry ones ...

... and the ancient ones who carved these walls.

Grateful.

crisis communications

2011-04-21T21:23:00.000-07:00

If you work in PR, you know Those Days. When the phone calls and the e-mails keep coming and you fill up sheet after sheet of yellow lined paper taking notes on what everyone needs. When there are questions, so many questions, and you really want to help, but you honestly don't know the all of the answers. When you are afraid to show too much emotion and just as afraid not to show enough. When all you think about is: Please, don't let me say the wrong thing.

And then you go home and put on your pajamas and watch videos of cats gnawing on corn. Because sometimes, this is the only thing that makes perfect sense.

dinner tonight

2011-04-20T21:12:00.000-07:00

Veggie tacos from the Taqueria Santa Cruz.

trail season ends

2011-04-17T21:00:00.000-07:00

So I accomplished my Annadel goals. I am not in a hospital bed right now, and I traded my XL race shirt for the correct size. Winning!

Also a plus: I finished in 2:45:42, according to my Garmin. (According to the clock, it was 2:46 and change -- and there was no chip timing.) I was aiming for sub-3, so I'm pretty happy with this. Yes, it's not a super-fast performance, but considering how technical these trails were and how the first half of the race was very nearly a continuous climb with a few breaks here and there, I'm thrilled.

The bad part: I'm pretty thrashed. Since the first eight miles involved climbing, the rest of the race was a descent -- a rocky, gravelly one at that. My runner's knee started acting up big-time -- with a full-blown flare-up just before the finish. But I made it. (A huge thank you to Lisa for running with me throughout the entire race -- we took turns leading and pacing each other. Gratitude also for all Turtles who volunteered -- so awesome to see friendly faces on the course!)

And so marks the end of trail season.

The training group celebrated tonight with a party. We filled our plates.

And our glasses too.

I marinated some portobello mushrooms in olive oil, sesame oil, shoyu, umeboshi plum vinegar, garlic, green onions and Urfa Biber to put on the grill.

They were such a hit, that I had to fight for this little slice!

Anyway, I will probably let the trail shoes be for awhile. It's time for a much-needed break.

happy trails

2011-04-16T20:03:00.000-07:00

Or so I hope.

My primary goal for Annadel tomorrow is simple yet extremely important: Do not get airlifted out of the park. That's right. I honestly don't care how long it takes me to run the damn course as long as no one has to call in the emergency helicopter.

And my secondary goal: Exchange race shirts. Because somehow, even though I registered for this race months ago and asked for a size S shirt, I ended up with XL. Seriously, how did that happen? I can understand maybe going to a medium if the smalls ran out, but XL? Fail!

And since we are talking about clothing, today while I was assembling my race outfit, I came across some of the tops I used to wear when I first started running.

I bought this shirt because it was on sale. I don't really understand the design -- is the extra fabric supposed to make you more aerodynamic? Or maybe there is a sailboat effect if the wind hits you at the right angle?

And then there's this shirt, which I loved because of the pocket. (These were the pre-SPIbelt days.) Unfortunately, now I prefer to run in racerbacks. (Also, this shirt is a little too short. Hopefully that's because it shrank, and not because I've gotten fatter.)

Anyway, for what it's worth, I will admit that even though I did lay out my clothes for tomorrow, pack my drop-bag and am already in my pajamas, I spent this afternoon wine-tasting. I hope this won't become a bad habit. (For the record: I spat. And drank a lot of water in between.)

I was pretty good about the diet, though: Vegetarian chili and potato salad from the Jimtown Store.

(By the way, this place was recently on that Guy Fieri show, so it was a complete madhouse. Lots of tour buses. And in case you're curious, apparently the current trend in wine country casual is extremely short dresses with knee-high boots -- like it's summer on top and winter on the bottom. Weird.)

mochi

2011-04-15T20:06:00.000-07:00

I continue to cook from the Alicia Silverstone book. Tonight's recipe: Savory pan-fried mochi topped with grated daikon and wrapped in toasted nori.

Aside from the nasty burn I received while frying the mochi and the fact that I cut the nori pieces a little too small, this dish turned out really well. I loved the elegant presentation (I'm such a sucker for looks), and the flavors were an interesting combo -- the chewy-on-the-inside, crispy-on-the-outside mochi had a tiny touch of sweetness, the seaweed added saltiness and the daikon brought an earthy slightly bitter note.

I ate two pieces and had to force myself not to eat more.

I'm pretty much a sucker

2011-04-13T21:13:00.000-07:00

I really didn't want to sign up for Annadel, but three of my friends registered and then talked me into it.

And now two of those three friends have backed out and won't be running.

Great.

*

I ate this yesterday, even though cheesecake upsets my stomach.

But a friend wanted to order it for dessert and didn't want to eat it alone. So guess what? I took one for the team.

*

Bloody Mary in a to-go cup.

Not my idea. But in this particular instance, glad I got talked into it!

soy milk ramen

2011-04-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

I came home tonight to the most wonderful scent: Todd was eating his leftovers from Shoki.

If only I had leftovers too. But I inhaled my entire bowl, broth and all, when we ate there Saturday after Derrick's race. (If you're going to run 50 miles, there had better be a fantastic reward at the end. And Shoki is nothing but fantastic.)

We started with the fresh tofu appetizer. (Is it weird that any time anything comes topped with bonito flakes, I automatically think of my cats?)

Then I had the soy milk ramen with a soft-boiled egg.

I know it sounds like a bizarre combination, but let me just tell you: The soy milk broth is absolutely freaking amazing. It's really subtle and has a different kind of texture -- a sort of light creaminess that transforms the bowl into Comfort Food Nirvana. Added bonus: The servers give you a side of sesame oil and suggest you eat half of the bowl, then add the oil. I did this, and it was an all-new experience -- like I had two bowls of fantastic ramen instead of just one.

Dear Shoki: Please move to Chickenland. Please.

american river 50

2011-04-10T09:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences that a runner never forgets: I paced Derrick through the last nine miles of the American River 50, his first 50-miler.

It was my job to get him up that 1,000-foot climb, and since this was the first time he'd ever run this distance, we had no idea what kind of shape he'd be in at that point. (I packed toilet paper in my SPIbelt just in case.)

I also pinned a picture of ramen to the back of my shirt. Because nothing is more motivating than a hot post-race bowl.

I met Derrick at the Rattlesnake Bar aid station (about the 41-mile point). He got there around 1:50 p.m.

He looked good (no limping or hobbling), he was coherent and there was no explosive poo (unlike another runner -- someone definitely had issues in the aid station bathroom) or projectile vomit (thank god). I snapped this photo of him with his fiancee, Brooke ...

... then we filled up his water bottle, took his layers, thanked Brian (his first pacer), said hi to Layla, who snapped this photo ...

... and then he and I were off.

He said he was tired and that his stomach was bothering him, so I tried my best to take his mind off of things. I talked on and on, asking him about his recent trip to Japan, telling him about the trip Todd and I will be taking to Jordan very soon, describing my Ken Ken Ramen experience, sharing the story about the time Neveia and I saw turtles mating on a trail run. I felt like I was talking so much that the other runners probably thought I was either really crazy or completely annoying.

We held a pretty steady pace -- averaging about 12- to 14-minute miles -- and followed two other runners and another pacer. We walked up the hills so everyone could save their legs for Last Gasp and would start running again when we got to the top. The trail was gorgeous: We had the American River rumbling on our right, meadows dotted with blue wildflowers and velvety blue-black butterflies (never seen anything so pretty), small creeks to splash through (there were a few mud puddles too), and amazing views of the valley as we climbed.

And the people were unbelievable. All of the runners were incredibly supportive of each other. (And steely-tough -- talk about strength and determination and muscle!) And the volunteers went above and beyond. These aid stations were pimped out! It was like they had full buffets! Crackers, pretzels, gummy bears, boiled potatoes, PB&J sandwiches, fruit, gels, water, sports drink, even chicken soup! (Derrick said one of the stations also had ice cream!)

The best station was at Last Gap: Derrick and I were alternating between power-walking and running up that hill, when suddenly a bearded, half-naked man in very small white shorts (OK, I'll admit it: he was hot) came sprinting toward us and asked if he could refill our bottles. Then he took Derrick's water bottle and sprinted away. When we got to the aid station, we discovered it was manned entirely by shirtless men in short-shorts who were sprinting back and forth to the runners with water. And they were blasting metal -- the kind that sounds like people are barking. It was the most surreal thing ever.

And then we continued up the hill, now on roads. Derrick was really tired at this point, and he was drinking a lot of water -- I had to share some of mine with him because he started to run out. I also gave him some of my Honey Stinger chews (they taste just like candy), and they seemed to work really well for him. So I kept feeding him and telling him to imagine that a giant ramen noodle was wrapped around us and it was pulling us up the hill toward an enormous melt-in-your-mouth chashu.

There were signs chalked on the road encouraging us to run. When we got to the 2-miles-left mark, we decided to run the rest of the way in. The climb was pretty brutal -- nearly everyone around us was walking. And Derrick kept asking me what time it was and telling me I had to make sure he finished by 4 p.m. (Talk about pressure!) We kept going, and it got to the point where I started to ask him where the hell the finish line was and how much farther we had and if it was ever going to flatten out.

We finally turned off of the road and onto a gravel path that seemed to flatten out, only to morph into a short but very steep hill that almost did me in. (What a wimpy pacer I am!) Derrick actually had to encourage me! After that, it was flat to the finish, and I was able to pick it up and run Derrick in while cheering for him. It was an absolutely amazing experience.

He finished so strong and came in just under 10 hours -- such a great time for his first 50-miler!

And there were so many people at the finish line cheering for him. Go Team Derrick! (And thank you to Todd for being our photographer!)

It was a fantastic day, and I am so proud of my friend -- what an enormous accomplishment. (And he's now qualified to enter the Western States 100 lottery -- again, talk about an amazing performance for a first-time 50-miler!) I told Derrick multiple times yesterday and I'll say it here again: It was an absolute honor to run with him.

I ken ken have ramen

2011-04-07T22:49:00.000-07:00

I had to pour at a wine event in San Francisco tonight.

So Todd came with me, and we enjoyed the tasting together. I worked the table, and he did the scouting.

Whenever he found something interesting to taste, he brought a sip back for me. This way, I got to try some sake and some sparkling while still doing my job.

When my shift was over, we headed to The Corner for the Ken Ken Ramen pop-up. (Seriously: I love ramen. I love pop-ups. I love San Francisco. I was pretty much in heaven.)

We started with the seaweed salad, which was absolutely delicious. Fried lotus root? Awesome!

Then our ramen arrived. We both ordered bowls of the shoyu ramen.

The portion size was a little bit smaller in comparison to other bowls I've had, but the ramen was good -- quite possibly my favorite San Francisco ramen so far. The broth was much lighter in texture, but it still had a very strong flavor. I absolutely loved the bamboo shoot (Ken Ken makes its own -- no pre-made strips), and the egg was awesome. I mean, just look at it. Awesome. (Then again, I am one of those people who prefers a runnier egg.)

The pork was OK. It wasn't bad, and the texture was nice -- not altogether melty, but close -- but the flavor was almost too much. I felt like I was tasting more of what the pork had been cooked in than the actual pork itself, if that makes any sense at all.

We finished the meal with some gyoza. (This was supposed to have arrived at the table earlier, but I guess the kitchen was experiencing a gyoza rush, so it got delayed a little.)

The gyoza was good, but I think Jinya's gyoza may have ruined me for life -- the bar is set really high now!

Overall, a fantastic night. And I definitely want to go back to Ken Ken again. There are vegan, miso and shio ramens that I have yet to try!

the downside of organic

2011-04-06T22:14:00.000-07:00

There was a slug in my salad tonight.

I keep thinking about it. And then I actually physically get the chills.

It was writhing on my plate.

But at least it wasn't a banana slug.

scattered thoughts

2011-04-05T20:54:00.000-07:00

You know those moments when you are trailing so far behind in your track workout that it almost looks like you are leading the pack?

That was me this morning. My body is still recovering from both yoga and the Loop de Loop. I can't wait to go to bed.

*

I recently finished reading this book. (Thank you, Chickenland Library!)

The information wasn't new to me -- I've seen the statistics on industrial farming and its impact on health before -- but it's always good to be reminded. Other than the fact that I couldn't stop hearing Cher from Clueless in my head while I was reading ("Meat is, like, so nasty!") and that things at times got a little too hippie-save-the-world for me, I liked the book.

What Alicia calls her "Superhero" recipes -- vegan macrobiotic dishes -- drew my attention, largely because they incorporate a lot of Japanese ingredients that I had either never heard of or had no idea how to use: Umeboshi vinegar, kuzu, daikon, burdock root, mochi (and I'm not talking about the ice cream), kukicha tea, kabocha squash and all kinds of sea vegetables (nori, arame, hijiki, etc.).

I made the Gingered Green Beans with Hijiki last night -- my first time ever cooking with seaweed!

The verdict? Love. The flavors really blend well together, and the recipe itself is fairly easy and straightforward (though you have to allow yourself some time to soak the hijiki). In fact, this dish was so good that I am kind of obsessed with hijiki now and can't wait to see what else I can do with it.

*

I am torn between the first-ever Ragnar Napa Valley and the first-ever Moo-Cow Half Marathon. Both are the same weekend.

I had planned to rally the troops and organize a team for Ragnar -- it's pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But I've been holding off on registering because (1) I felt nervous about the race fee ($1,300 for a 12-person team -- I'd be footing the bill and people would pay me back as they signed on -- and I haven't paid my taxes yet, so I'm kind of short on cash at the moment), (2) the logistics of the race are daunting as hell (the Ragnar "bible" of race info is literally 22 pages long) and (3) I can't decide on a team name (this seems silly, but seriously, if it were up to me, the team would be called Poo Strong or something similar -- and then nobody would want to be on my team).

And then I found out about Moo-Cow. It's close to home (I can walk to the starting line!). The medal is a cowbell. There's a 5K option (which means my dad can come up here and we can run together again). And the course is hilly and challenging and goes through some really beautiful countryside.

Decisions, decisions.

hippie pizza

2011-04-04T21:39:00.000-07:00

... looks like this. And instead of being decadently debaucherous, like the kind I had at Rosso on Saturday, it's vegan, gluten-free and loaded with good-for-you veggies like kale and mushrooms. (The recipe calls for maitakes, but I substituted creminis, and they worked just fine.)

I made this polenta pizza not too long ago and really enjoyed it. It honestly didn't taste anything like "normal" pizza, but I liked how hearty it was -- filling, yet without the heavy feeling of a regular pie. The only bummer: The cook time. After you cook the polenta, then let it cool in the refrigerator, then take it out, then bake it for 40 minutes, then top it, and then bake it again, you've spent hours in the kitchen.

But if you have the time (and love kale anywhere near as much as I do), I highly recommend this recipe! You can find it here.

loop de loopy

2011-04-03T18:41:00.000-07:00

I kind of feel like I've been steam-rolled.

The Loop de Loop was brutal. Tag pick-up was chaotic. There weren't enough parking spaces or port-a-potties. (In fact, there was only one port-a-potty, and you could smell it from a mile away.) And a lot of people -- both race organizers and runners -- seemed confused. But Dana and I, a.k.a. Team Hangover (she was out having cocktails last night too), made it to the start.

Dana ran the first leg (our age handicapped start was 8:12 a.m.), so I had some time to relax.

Yes, folks, I am Asian. Socks and flip-flops? Winning!

Dana finished her leg just before 9:30. We high-fived, and then I was off. And my loop -- which was the opposite direction of the course Dana had just run -- began with a long, steady climb.

Of all the completely and terribly wrong things I did during yesterday's blatant lack of pre-race preparation, it became instantly clear on that very first hill that I should not have gone to power yoga. My hamstrings -- which had been dully achey while I was standing around waiting to start -- began to scream bloody murder. I felt like I had no leg strength whatsoever. Even the smallest incline hurt, and the hills just kept on coming.

Thankfully my friend Cara was right behind me. She had just returned from a trip to Vegas and wasn't feeling 100 percent either. (In fact, she actually fell at one point -- it was pretty scary. I was running ahead and heard her kick a rock, and then she was down.) We ended up sticking together throughout the race, encouraging each other and, yes, taking the occasional walk break.

It was the longest seven miles I've ever run, and I couldn't have done it without her.

I ended up finishing my leg in 1:27:48 -- a 12:47-minute pace (according to my Garmin -- official times haven't been posted yet). Not stellar, but you get what you deserve, and I definitely earned that crappy time.

At least my shoes looked bad-ass even though nothing else about me was.

And at least now I've run my first trail race and have a better idea of what the Annadel Half will be like when I tackle that beast in two weeks. (In fact, I think today's race covered some of the same trails.) And I know that race prep -- and above and beyond, pre-race rest -- is a must. No more blasting my legs before they even get to the starting line!

Anyway, as always, even the most pathetic of runs is followed by a recovery meal. We went to East West, and I had huevos rancheros.

to hell with it

2011-04-02T21:11:00.000-07:00

Took this photo on my walk to the yoga studio this morning. That's right -- today marked my first downward dog since December or January. It felt good to be back in class, but I'm already sore. And I can only imagine how my muscles are going to feel tomorrow.

Which will be extra-awesome since I'm racing in the morning -- doing the second leg of the Loop de Loop.

Apparently, I've decided to throw all pre-race prep out the window. In addition to starting a new exercise regime the day before a race, I also:

Spent the entire afternoon wine-tasting: First, Sonoma Coast and Russian River Pinots at KB pick-up day. Then a stop at Graton Ridge Cellars. (Did you know they make a dessert wine out of apples? It tastes just like an apple-tini.) Then dinner at Rosso, where I had a glass of Sancerre, followed by a glass of Barbera.
Ate a ridiculous amount of gluten: Quiche and bread at Water Street Bistro. Flatbread and pizza at Rosso.
Consumed even more dairy: Butter pecan ice cream at Screamin' Mimi's (out of guilt, I did order this on a gluten-free cone, which actually tasted just like a normal cone). Burrata at Rosso. (Seriously, if I don't crap my pants tomorrow morning, it will be a miracle.)
Completely failed to pick up my race packet ahead of time. Let's hope there isn't a giant mob at the starting line tomorrow.

At this point, I'm debating staying up all night so I can throw zero sleep into the mix too.

post-race reward

2011-04-01T20:26:00.000-07:00

My apologies for not mentioning this earlier: I had ramen in L.A. last weekend.

After the adventure that was the the Great Race, we went to Studio City to check out Ramen Jinya.

They're known for their tonkotsu ramen, which has a thick broth made from boiling pork bones and fat over high heat for hours (this is then combined with miso or dashi, depending on the dish), and also typically uses thin noodles. Jinya offers four types of tonkotsu ramen, and each is named and modeled after the tonkotsu from four regions of Japan: Hakata, Yokohama, Kyoto and Sapporo.

In addition, Jinya has fried chicken ramen, tomato ramen, mushroom ramen (on the special menu that day) and a completely vegetarian ramen made with veggie broth. And they serve sushi, too.

We started our meal with some gyoza.

This was hands-down the best gyoza I've ever had in my life. It was remarkably light -- not at all what you'd expect from fried food. The outside was crisp, and the inside was fluffy. I could've eaten four more plates -- so delicious!

And then the main event arrived. All four of us ordered the Hakata ramen -- the menu said they only make 20 bowls each day, so we absolutely couldn't resist.

I also added corn and egg to my bowl. (Look at that egg! Isn't it gorgeous?)

The verdict? Fantastic. The broth was creamy and comforting without feeling fatty, and the chashu was like meat butter -- it just melted away. (If you're going to eat meat and gluten, it might as well be awesome, right?)

We were tempted to come back later that night to try more of the menu (another plus about Jinya: they're open until midnight), but then Shaya turned us on to Darya and gave us a primer in Persian food. (New to me: Raw onion as a condiment, brought out alongside a basket of flatbread. And did you know sumac can be used as a seasoning? All this time I thought it just made you itchy!)

I ordered the bademjan. (Also new to me: Saying the word "bademjan" out loud. Shaya said I sounded cute. I bet this meant I sounded like a toddler.)

Delicious!

wine, cheese, running

2011-03-31T22:22:00.000-07:00

I love hill repeats. And you know what makes them even better?

A post-run wine-and-cheese party with the training group.

One of the guys in our group is part of local cheese-making family, so he brought several different kinds of goat cheese for us to try. My favorite was the Crottin.

Guess who brought the wine?

10th half marathon, done

2011-03-27T18:56:00.000-07:00

I love that my race shirt and medal both say Chesebro Half Marathon, when that race just didn't exist yesterday. I will forever look at this stuff and think: "Chesebro 2011, the race that never was!" (And if you're wondering why Mari is wearing my race goodies, it's because today is her birthday -- my little cat is 5 years old!)

So instead of splashing through mud, I hit the asphalt yesterday in the Pacific Half Marathon. Because this was a last-minute change, I didn't have difficult goals -- I knew there was no way I was going to PR. Mainly, I just wanted to finish in one piece (no injuries or near-death experiences) and possibly hit the 2:15 mark. (This course is fairly hilly, and most runners finish about five minutes slower than their average half marathon times.)

The race was a point-to-point course that began at Paramount Ranch, with an Old West movie set for the starting line.

I thought this photo was funny, since I definitely wasn't a mud bug yesterday!

The good part about the start: Real bathrooms. With running water. And flushing toilets! The bad part: Adding 1,300 trail runners to a road race (and the trail runners outnumbered the road runners -- there were significantly more green Chesebro bibs out there than blue Pacific ones) caused some logistical issues. The race was supposed to start at 7:30, but it didn't start until almost 8 a.m.! And it was ridiculously cold, so I was pretty much stiff and numb when the gun finally went off.

The start was a bit of a bottleneck as we took off up the gravel road out of Western Town. When we finally got onto asphalt, we were immediately greeted with rolling hills. I was so cold that the first two miles were brutal. I felt awful, totally disconnected from my legs, and I thought about dropping out and calling my parents to come get me. Not surprisingly, my first mile split was 11:03. Hardly a strong start.

I didn't feel good until I got to the Mile 3 marker and began the biggest climb of the entire race. This was the hill I had heard everyone whispering about at the starting line -- it was supposed to be nothing short of mean.

Oddly, I loved every single second of that climb. I loved the rhythm of it: Leaning into the incline, shortening my stride, increasing my turnover, staying on my toes, pumping my arms. I loved breathing. I cruised up that hill, passing quite a few people. I thought to myself: "If I do nothing else in this race, if I drop out on the other side, if I decide to walk the rest of the course, at least I can say I ran this hill."

The climb was only about half a mile. And at the top of the hill was what looked like an antique tugboat in the middle of a field, with no water anywhere near it. Random.

The descent was fine -- no problems with my knee, thank goodness. I cruised through the next few miles, just enjoying my surroundings. My parents moved to Agoura Hills after I left home, so I don't know the area at all -- running that race was a really wonderful way to get a tour. The hills were so green. There were horses. Ranches. A winery. A special lake for very rich people.

And there were a lot of stopped cars. Cops were at every intersection, holding vehicles back. At one point I overheard a driver yell: "They should've spaced them out better! There are thousands of them!" Apparently, the Great Race of Agoura is also the Great Traffic Jam of Agoura.

And of course, I found my nemesis. I swear, there is always one in every race. I started to notice this guy after the Mile 6 marker, when I heard an unmistakable rattling sound getting closer and closer. Yes, this man was running with a bottle of pills in his pocket, and it was annoying as hell. I tried to get away from him because the sound was making me insane, but he stayed right behind me. Luckily, there was another good climb at 7.5 miles to take my mind off him. (Seriously, I really like hills.)

At the Mile 8 marker, I walked through an aid station, so I could drink my water without spilling it on myself and eat some Honey Stingers. The pill guy passed me and called out: "You're doing great! I know you can do it!" I really wanted to yell back: "No shit, Sherlock. I've done this before. And I'm not bonking -- this is called fueling and hydrating!" And that was when this guy officially became my target.

I caught up with him at the next aid station because he had stopped right smack in the middle of the course to hug people he knew. Have I mentioned how annoying this guy was? Another runner yelled at him to pull over to the side. I passed him and his groupies and started yet another small climb.

At the Mile 10 marker, I began to feel tired. And my left hip hurt. Annoying Pill Guy caught up to me and then told me he had been using me to pace himself. And when I didn't respond, he said: "Your name must be Ann Aerobic because you can't talk! Get it? Anaerobic?" And then he pulled ahead, laughing the whole time. I vowed revenge.

When I hit the Mile 11 marker, I decided it was finally time to bring it home. I had run fairly conservatively throughout the race, and now I just had to pass people and finish it. I picked up the pace and pushed. And just before I got to the Mile 12 marker, I saw Annoying Pill Guy, passed his rattling ass and kept going. I never saw him -- or heard his stupid bottle -- again.

The course went through a sticky, muddy section, and I spotted Todd. He took this photo. (That's me behind the patriotic-looking guy in the red shorts, white shirt and blue hat.)

I waved at Todd and yelled: "I really just want ramen! I am so hungry!" And then I was off to the finish.

The finish chute was weird -- you had to run down a street and then jump a curb and run across some slippery, muddy grass to the line, which was in Chumash Park. My final time was 2:14:28 -- 26 seconds faster than my Nike time. It would've been nice to have been faster, but considering the circumstances, I was happy. Other than the first two miles, I felt pretty strong and present throughout the race -- no feelings of woe.

The best part: My dad did the 5K and finished in 41:20, which is a PR for him. Of course, we took a photo together with our medals. So proud of my dad! And so excited we were able to share the Great Race experience!

My mom got her race rewards too. She is all about the free stuff -- I think she goes to races largely for the samples at the expo and the finish line. (At one race, I actually caught her eating the hot food that was supposed to be for the runners.) Look at how much loot she picked up yesterday!

Overall, the Pacific Half was a good race. I had fun. I saw lots of weird footwear -- everything from a guy running in gladiator sandals to a woman in Skecher Shape Ups (they looked like boats). I overheard one runner tell another runner: "That's great! You've reached the point in the race where you're talking to yourself!"

And I learned I really love hills. Who would've thought?

unexpected change of plans

2011-03-24T20:35:00.000-07:00

Several thoughts come to mind.

One: Southern Californians are wimps. (And I can say this because I grew up in L.A., and yes, for a very long time, dirt scared me too.) It's a trail run! It will be wet! It will be muddy! And it won't be a big deal! If I ran through and survived this ridiculousness, how much worse can the Cheeseboro Canyon trails be?

Two: On second thought, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Dear ankle: Are you secretly grateful?

Three: Crap. I've been focusing on nothing but trails. I haven't run more than seven miles on asphalt since January. Also, this means I have to re-plan my entire race outfit.

things I like about work

2011-03-23T21:17:00.000-07:00

The winery cat. This is Jack. He was dumped at one of our tasting rooms. We took him in, and now he is fat and happy and has the run of the property. When he isn't eating, posing for photos or exploring the gardens, he curls up in a little bed inside the tasting room -- right next to the fireplace, of course.

The food. I've sung the praises of our in-house culinary team before. Their food kicks ass, and their hospitality is amazing. They will go out of their way to accommodate dietary restrictions -- not just for me, but for anyone who comes through the door. This is the food-and-wine pairing we typically offer, only adjusted so it's gluten-free and vegetarian. And guess what? It's delicious.

The education. Today I took media to see some beehives on one of our properties. I loved learning about the apiary (yes, I even picked up a new word!) and watching our beekeeper at work. Some fun trivia: At her peak, a queen bee can lay 2,000 eggs a day. (Thinking about this kind of makes my insides hurt.) If she starts to lose productivity, the other bees make a new queen. (And I thought humans were cutthroat!)

The outfits. Like this fabulous hat I got to wear today.

Am I styling or what?

reliving it

2011-03-22T21:05:00.000-07:00

As much as I love the written word, sometimes photos tell the story a bit better. Case in point: Sunday's absolutely insane trail run.

This is the first WTF moment, when we realized we were going to have to cross that stream (which to my city girl eyes, looks a whole lot like raging rapids).

Here I am running uphill on a trail that has been transformed into a small creek. (I am trying to look brave, but really I am uncomfortable and worried I'm going to trip on a rock and demolish my ankle again.)

This is pretty much what the landscape looked like that day. Beautiful but wet.

Here's our coach about to fly through a small lake. (Yes, this is still the trail.)

Another awesome thing about the rain: It brings out the newts. My running buddy Mariko made friends with this guy. (Notice Lisa's face in the background -- hilarious!)

And the wet weather isn't over. It's raining again as I type this. Thankfully, the forecast for Chesebro looks good: So far, no rain Saturday.

of wild cats and water

2011-03-20T19:47:00.000-07:00

I'm all for mountain lions in controlled, educational environments like the presentation put on today in Napa by the Wild Cat Education and Conservation Fund, but I really hope I never see one of these beautiful beasts on any of my trail runs. (And yes, mountain lions do make appearances in Annadel every so often.)

Thankfully, today was not one of those days.

Instead, I saw water. Lots and lots of water -- gushing, dripping, trickling, pooling, you name it. We had a howling, rain-slapping-sideways, objects-being-tossed-around-in-the-wind kind of storm last night, and it took its toll on the trails.

Instead of paths, there were rushing streams. Instead of running, there was creek-walking upstream, sloshing through puddles the size of small brown lakes and yes, even fording what seemed like a miniature (yet very forceful) river, with icy cold water that came up to my thighs. And there were the fallen twigs, branches and tree trunks. At one point, the downed trees were impassable, so we had to turn around and run all the way back the way we came (which meant fording the river a second time). My eight-mile taper run became a 10-mile run/hike/wade/survive.

And it wasn't really fun. To be honest, I was actually pretty close to miserable out there. I was frustrated that I couldn't just flat-out run, because every few feet there would be a deep puddle that I couldn't see the bottom of or a tree trunk across the trail or a descent that had turned into a partial waterfall. (And with my ankle the way it is and a race in six days, I am absolutely terrified of re-injury.) And I was plagued by that awful this-trail-is-never-going-to-end, I'm-going-to-be-stuck-on-a-hillside-in-the-rain-forever feeling.

I found myself really questioning my sanity.

groan

2011-03-17T21:14:00.001-07:00

I ate this for lunch. And some sushi. Thus simultaneously breaking both the vegetarian and gluten-free codes.

And now I'm suffering. I don't know if lunch is to blame or if it's the fact that one of my co-workers came to work yesterday with the stomach flu and sat next to me in a meeting. (Seriously, WTF: Why the hell would you come to work with the stomach flu? Nothing can possibly be that important!)

The cramping started early this evening, just as I was meeting the group for some hill repeats. Somehow, I powered through (even though it was brutal and my stomach cramped up at the bottom of every hill and I wanted to curl up in fetal position on the sidewalk). Miraculously, I didn't barf or crap my pants.

Let's hope this awful feeling passes soon.

the mac

2011-03-14T21:25:00.000-07:00

As you know, I'm kind of obsessed with Mark Bittman. Tonight I made his macaroni and cheese recipe from the February issue of Runner's World. (The fact that Bittman is a runner just makes me love him more.)

The secret ingredient in this recipe: Cauliflower. That's right -- the sauce is actually pureed cauliflower with just a little bit of cheese, so it's creamy without feeling heavy. And I used quinoa pasta for the noodles, making this dish gluten-free.

While my mac didn't come out as pretty as the one in the magazine, it was good. Really good. It tasted a lot fattier than it actually was.

I can't wait to eat my leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

chesebro, here I come

2011-03-13T21:56:00.000-07:00

Eleven-plus miles at China Camp this morning with Neveia. This may be my new favorite trail spot -- loved the views of San Pablo Bay, the egrets picking through the marsh, the hillsides dotted with wild irises and golden poppies. I want to go back and do it again.

After our run, we had brunch at Theresa & Johnny's. (They have a paint-by-number Last Supper picture next to the sink in the bathroom. Awesome.) I got the So-Cal Benedict -- cheddar corn biscuits (I know, clearly not gluten-free) topped with avocado, grilled tomato, poached eggs and hollandaise -- and a side of tater tots.

I don't know what felt better -- finally getting into double-digit mileage or wolfing down this plate.

hooray for csa day

2011-03-12T17:11:00.000-08:00

We recently joined the community supported agriculture (CSA) program at Tierra Vegetables. For those of you who aren't familiar with a CSA, it's like having a subscription to a farm. Every other Friday, I head over to Tierra and pick up a bag of pre-selected produce. The selection changes every time, which is part of the fun -- we don't know what we're going to get until the morning of pick-up day, when the farm owners send out an e-mail listing all of the items, ways to cook them and a recipe or two.

Yesterday was pick-up day, so I headed over to Tierra, which is just up the road from my office and has a cute litte farm stand out front.

Unlike some CSA's, which package everything for you in a crate, Tierra makes you do a little work. You go into an area at the back of the farm stand, read the chalkboards that list how much of each item you are supposed to get this week and then measure everything out using scales.

I love it. Really, really love it. I swear, it makes me feel like it's Food Christmas or something.

This week's bag included leeks, potatoes, winter squash, escarole, sun-dried tomatoes, caramelized onions, celeraic (also known as celery root) and cardoon.

You are probably wondering what the hell cardoon is. It's a member of the artichoke family, and the plants actually look very similar to artichoke plants. However, with cardoon, you eat the stem. We haven't tried it yet -- planning to cook it for dinner tonight -- but we hear it's supposed to taste like a cross of artichokes and celery.

While I'm at Tierra, I also like to see what else they have available that wasn't included in my subscription -- I like to supplement things, if you will. Last time, I bought some purple heirloom popcorn. I'm also very tempted by the bean selection, which is extensive.

I always end up buying eggs. I feel pretty strongly about where my eggs come from and can't stand the thought of antibiotic-infused chickens crammed into crates stacked floor-to-ceiling indoors in artificial lighting. So I splurge on the organic eggs from chickens I know are treated well and have access -- real access, not fake marketing-speak access -- to the outside world. Also, the organic eggs from happy chickens taste so much better.

And then I put the eggs on everything. Like this pizza (which was made with Udi's gluten-free crust and topped with CSA leeks) that I just devoured.

Seriously, Food Christmas!

I've got mail

2011-03-10T21:42:00.000-08:00

My mailman left me a note today.

Clearly, he's noticed my license plate frame (which says "Runner Girl / I run like a girl"), the issues of Runner's World that arrive every month and the postcards advertising upcoming races. (Now that I think about it, it's kind of scary how much postal workers must know about people from their mail.)

*

Hill repeats tonight. Don't tell anyone, but I think I love climbing.

*

Which is kind of a good thing, since apparently the Chesebro Half is insanely hilly. I studied the elevation map today (I know, I know -- I probably should've done this when I was registering instead of two weeks before race day), and there's a slight but steady climb from Mile 3 to 6 and then a very steep grade from Mile 6 to 8.

Even scarier: I read reviews of the race on Racevine, and the comments included "This was a VERY CHALLANGING HALF" and "The course is tougher than I thought it would be, but very scenic -- just be sure to include hills in your training."

I know I've been running a lot of hills recently, but I'm still scared!

back on the track

2011-03-08T21:36:00.000-08:00

Despite my fears, I didn't die during speedwork this morning.

In fact, I actually kind of did well -- for me, at least. I finished my first 1500 in 8:04, an 8:48 mile pace, and I only got passed by one person. I slowed down a little for the 1800 -- finished in 9:55, about an 8:51 mile pace, and three people passed me. But I picked it up for the final 1500 -- finished in 7:47 (when have I ever seen this number?), an 8:28 mile pace, and I actually passed someone! (Granted, this person was also recovering from major surgery, but it was still a small victory for me. When you're a turtle, you'll take what you can get.)

The best part: I left the track feeling confident. Hopeful even. I haven't felt this way in ages -- quite possibly since last summer, prior to all of my injuries. Maybe I can start thinking again about training for a sub-2 half marathon. (Not Chesebro, of course -- not enough time for that, plus it's a trail run. But maybe a road race in May or June.)

Also, I think I may really like my new shoes.

After finding out that my left foot supinates while my right foot slightly overpronates, I've been looking to transition to more neutral shoes. I recently got a pair of Brooks Ravennas, which are a step down from stability but not quite neutral yet, and so far, I'm pretty stoked on them. On the track, they felt much lighter and less "slappy" than my LunarGlides. (I think the wider toebox on my LunarGlides makes them a little clumsy for speedwork.)

Also great: The post-track workout breakfast. Because I get up so early on speed days, I have more time to cook breakfast. This morning I made scrambled eggs with green onions, cheese and a little truffle salt.

This turtle deserved it!

group think

2011-03-07T19:52:00.000-08:00

Can you figure out which one is me? (Answer: Dark purple top. Blue hat. Waving dorkily.) This photo is from yesterday's run -- before I got completely lost in the woods.

Anyway, since I seem to be easing my way back into the group thing, I am now trying to decide if it's time to haul my butt out of bed tomorrow morning and head to the track. I haven't run with the track group since Jan. 11, when we did fartleks, and my best mile was a mediocre 9:21 -- and that was with healthy ankles.

I can only imagine how humiliating tomorrow morning will be. The workout is 1 x 1500 at 10K pace, 1 x 1800 at 10K pace, and 1 x 1500 at 5K pace. So pretty much I am going to die a miserable, embarrassing death, and I predict I will get lapped numerous times by at least two people.

And yet I know that if I don't get out there and do the workout -- even if it's a pathetic attempt -- I'm not going to get any faster. And the longer I put off going to the track, the harder it's going to be to get back into the speedwork routine.

Well, I guess there's nothing like an extra-large slice of humble pie to start the day.

like hansel and gretel. kind of.

2011-03-06T15:05:00.000-08:00

So my return to the trails with the training group was not exactly spectacular.

First of all, weather conditions were hardly encouraging -- it alternated between light showers and straight-up rain. Then we got lost driving to the trailhead at the Pan Toll ranger station in Muir Woods. And the road was so winding that by the time we got there, I was ready to barf. I felt so sick and so off that I was dead last during our 14-minute warm-up run along a fire road. I have never been dead last with this group before. (With my track group, yes, I am regularly horrible. But with this group, I am usually a solid mid-packer.)

And then we headed out onto the trail. There was a slippery, root-ridden downhill, and I was extra-paranoid about falling because of my ankle, so I walked this and ended up -- once again -- dead last. (It actually got to the point where I was so frustrated that I started to re-think my plan to run the Chesebro Half in three weeks.) Thankfully, Neveia and Lisa weren't too far ahead, so I just kept following them and eventually caught up.

We were supposed to be running this route.

I don't know what the hell happened, but somehow we missed the turn to the TCC Trail and ended up on the Deer Park Fire Road instead. And then suddenly we were no longer on the trails but on the highway -- as in, with cars.

We were totally and completely lost. And we had no clue how to get back to where we should have been.

Luckily, we saw two other runners -- Tonie and Drue -- from our group up ahead, and they were in the same predicament, so the five of us joined forces. We asked a mountain biker for help, and he pointed us in the right direction, which meant running through Muir Woods National Monument. That's right -- running on a wooden boardwalk and dodging tourists with umbrellas and cameras. Eventually we made our way to the Bootjack Trail and decided to take it back to where we started.

At first it was great. Lush green ferns. Small waterfalls tumbling into a creek. A ravine full of mist. Fallen logs. Moss. (If I could've had anything right then, it would've been my camera -- it was gorgeous.) And we were running uphill, which was such a wonderful change from all the slippery downhill. I started to feel like myself at last, picked up the pace and ended up leading the group. It was easy to pretend I was some kind of woodland creature, hopping over stones and roots and trotting along. Or that I was part of an expedition, and I needed to lead us out of the wilderness and into safety.

But that got old when I realized the uphill was never going to end. Up, up, up. And there were so many stairs! Dear god, it was like the this trail was one giant staircase! Eventually I couldn't run anymore, and all I could do was hike up steps. It was like we were stuck in a twisted fairytale, where the characters wander on and on down a path (or climb up and up a staircase), and no matter how far they go, they can never escape the woods.

Just when I was getting really frustrated and somewhat angry, we ran into others from our group. The good: We followed them, the run from hell ended and we found our way out. The bad: Instead of the planned 10 miles, our adventure yielded only 7.5. The ugly: Yes, I got a good butt workout on those stairs, but I'm anxious -- I have a race in three weeks, and my mileage just isn't where it should be!

At least there was food. We went to the Dipsea Cafe afterward, and a soy chai latte covered in nutmeg put me in a better mood.

And this made me feel even better.

I have to say, though I may be a mediocre runner with a shitty ankle and an unnatural fear of falling thanks to said ankle, when it comes to eating, I can claim elite status.

(de)stress

2011-03-03T21:33:00.000-08:00

Back on the West Coast. And things are crazy. Today was my first day back in the office, and I had to attend four meetings, finalize a communications plan for the next fiscal year and prepare for a media visit. And while I was on vacation, they moved my office to another building, so I was doing all of this while surrounded by a sea of boxes, which I didn't have time to unpack.

I can't even begin to explain how good it felt to leave work and run hill repeats with the training group. (And so freaking fantastic just to be with the training group again! It's been six weeks since the sprain, and I've missed my running friends so much!) We went up and down those hills. Over and over. Legs pumping. Arms pumping. Focusing only on the rhythm of it: Breath and footsteps. Sweet, sweet exhaustion.

And then I came home to Todd, who had made the most gorgeous salad I have ever seen: Red lettuce, celery stalk, blood oranges, candied ginger and toasted seasoned sunflower seeds.

Bye-bye, stress!

new jersey eats

2011-02-28T19:02:00.000-08:00

So far, I have eaten tofu ...

... pizza ...

... and pasta.

(Apparently, I'm on vacation from gluten-free eating. I couldn't resist -- every time I come out here, we eat at Carmine's, and eating at Carmine's without ordering pizza and pasta would be a travesty.)

guess where I am?

2011-02-27T19:53:00.000-08:00

I'll give you a hint.

(Saw this poster when I was walking/limping to the car after the SF Half last July. Thought it was hilarious and have been saving the photo for just the right moment.)