words of wisdom.

It’s magic to see spirit largely because it’s so rare. Mostly you see the masks and the holograms that the culture presents as real. You see how you’re doing in the world’s eyes, or your family’s, or — worst of all — yours, or in the eyes of people who are doing better than you — much better than you — or worse. But you are not your bank account, or your ambitiousness. You’re not the cold clay lump with a big belly you leave behind when you die. You’re not your collection of walking personality disorders. You are spirit, you are love, and, while it is increasingly hard to believe during this presidency, you are free. You’re here to love, and be loved, freely. If you find out next week that you are terminally ill — and we’re all terminally ill on this bus — all that will matter is memories of beauty, that people loved you, and you loved them, and that you tried to help the poor and innocent.


-Anne Lamott, in her 2003 commencement address at the University of California at Berkeley. 


(bolding mine.)


-one shitty run/race does not make you a shitty runner or racer.
-you are still a runner, through and through, even if your love of the sport wanes and you enter a fallow period, a time of reduced mileage.
-it's okay to fuck up. it's okay to make mistakes. it's okay. you're okay.

I remember once reading that there are only two types of prayers: please and thank you. 

Sometimes it feels like those are the only two possible thoughts or mantras, at two different ends of the spectrum, that propel me toward a finish line.

a dry spell

...from blogging. But I'm back, I think.

I ran my second marathon last September. It was really hard and I did not come near to achieving my goal (4:30 or lower) and I felt like a massive terrific awful failure. Since then I've had some okay runs - the Emerald Nuts midnight run in Central Park, although a crowded clusterfuck, was a wonderful way to ring in the new year; scattered runs in North Carolina and Seattle and Pennsylvania and all the other weird places I travel to; weeknight runs around my neighborhood, like tonight, when five miles feels perfect and buds perch expectantly on branches and the ice cream truck jingle resounds down alleys. 

But I have a bitter taste in my mouth about that failed marathon. I've always been the sort of person who beats themselves up over infractions small and large - missing a work deadline, waiting too long to return a friend's phone call or email, drinking too much - and I can't shake loose the feeling that I am so much better than the half-assed efforts I've been putting forth in my running.

I want to be proud of who I am as a runner.

July 2011

I’ve learned that I associate running with my best self. When I go through a dry spell, not training, it indicates that the rest of my life is a little messy or worn down. Running strips away something like what Virginia Woolf called “the cotton wool of everyday life” so that there is nothing between my intimate insides and the air and light and landscape unfurling under my sneaker treads. It’s release through motion. - "Choosing Motion"

--

July 2011

Miles scheduled and completed: 140 scheduled/121 ran.

Rest days: I don't actively schedule rest days and even on "rest" days tend to take a long walk. Living in NYC you end up walking all over the place anyway so it's hard to truly rest. But I did take 10 days off of running.

Best run: Probably my 16-miler in Wisconsin, around my hometown, the last weekend I was there (my mom sold the house I grew up in). Ran past my high school boyfriend's house, past my childhood best friend's house, my old church, my high school, the public swimming pool. Down country roads and up hills past dairy farms to catch a glimpse of Milwaukee in the distance. It was bittersweet and wonderful.

Best race: Only one race - the Queens half marathon. I matched my Brooklyn half PR of 2:06, which I feel meh about despite the shitty conditions. The horrendous heat, shade-less course and humidity meant that lots of runners were struggling but given my current mileage I was hoping to pull a better time out of the hat. However I've got the Bronx half at the end of August and perhaps Grete's in October to redeem myself.

--

Things I'm looking forward to in August:

-tackling the Queensboro bridge on morning runs

-going to the beach again, hopefully

-running in Pennsylvania, at my partner's parents' house, and in North Carolina, visiting my mom

-running the NYRR long training run #2

-a week off of work

-reading during my week off of work

-enjoying summer eats: gaspacho, summer wheat beers, blueberries and watermelon

-soaking in as much heat as possible before fall descends

ciao a tutti

Hi, friends.

I've had a variety of blogs over the years - from livejournal to blogger to tumblr - and it's nice to have a little outlet again. In keeping with my blog tradition, this one has a title in Italian.

"Io corre." I run. I'm a runner, and I love running, and I love talking and writing and thinking about running, and that's what I hope to do here, with some other stuff woven in.

This is not a healthy living blog. I will not ever document my food. I will not tell you that if you write "I am beautiful" on a post-it, your life will get better. I will not show you photographs of my dog. I will not share oatmeal "recipes" with you. Instead, I'll write about running. How it feels when you run 5 blocks at 6 am before you're even awake. The joy of coasting down a familiar hill. The anxiety and fear at the starting line of your first marathon. The giddy thrill of pinning on a race bib. The frustration and anger at missing a goal, whether by 10 seconds or 10 minutes. The fellowship of fellow runners. The shh-shh-shh sound of thousands of runners, two miles into a race, their feet pounding and breath singing.

I'm not a terrifically fast runner. I'm middle of the pack and am relatively okay with that. I've done one marathon, a handful of half-marathons, and a pile of other races of varying distances. I am by no means an expert on anything but how delicious gummy bears taste when consumed during a hot schweaty run.

This blog is inspired in large part by Tracy and Angry Runner and Morgan and many others who write about their running on the internet in smart, funny, witty, snarky ways.

So, hi!