Whatever doesn't kill you...

My splits say it all. I started strong in the first 5k, running an 8:56-minute mile. I felt great; the past few days I stayed away from coffee, alcohol and sugar, and ate tons of vegetables, protein, and drank lots of water.

But I was running so fast that I didn't adhere to my original plan: sip of water and bite of food (I brought apple bites and almonds) every 1/2 mile. That strategy worked well for my 1st 1/2 marathon in Alameda back in May but I was so focused on speed I didn't give myself the chance to warm up and by the time I ran out of fuel (around mile 5 or 6) I couldn't recover.

By that time, my brother, who had started behind me, had caught up. We took a quick bathroom break (another error: should've gone again right before starting). He quickly moved ahead and I kept slowing down.
I did finally come to my senses and re-hydrated both at the water stations and with my own water bottle, as well as started eating my snacks.

The irony was that what I was most worried about, my knees, specifically my right, didn't hurt at all. My calves on the other hand truned into rock-solid blocks of tightened muscles.
But what was truly amazing was my mental state: I was so strong! I knew exactly what was going on and I pulled myself through it. I even smiled. I waved at the 14 bands along the way: A high school marching band, a rock band covering Pink's "So What", an old-school do-woop group, and 2 cheerleading teams. We wound our way through downtown San Jose, Japantown, a beautiful neighborhood. Kids and adults cheering and waving and giving high-fives.

The race seemed to go by quickly; I focused on enjoying the experience and frankily, learning from my mistakes rather than punishing myself for them. That's not to say I wasn't disappointed. I fished 4 minutes slower than my personal record. Ugh. I hate writing that. When you don't meet a goal, you either give up, or you keep going. I guess this means I need to run another 1/2 marathon...

P.S. A big congrats to my big brother who completed his first 1/2 marathon! Go Jim!

Le grand tour

Thanks for your positive feedback about my Picture Post: Around the hood! I received few requests to see inside my studio, so please join me on a quick tour (after all, it's a studio).

Bedroom/Living Room:I was surprised by how much fit in this room; my (full) bed, futon/couch, coffee table, armoire, dresser and desk.The side of the room has a bench-type built in. I originally thought I'd set it up with some cushions for seating, but my bookshelves, mirror, and TV fit nicely on it, and it serves as a night stand next to my bed as well.
The armoire came with the studio; it's really beautiful and just barely fits my hanging clothes. I find studios are a great way to down size and figure out what you really need!
What I like best about this place is the kitchen. Full gas stove, large refrigerator and a nice deep sink. The cabinets provide all the storage I could need and then some.
The bathroom is in great condition, too; it includes a pretty pedestal sink, strong pressure shower and even a full bathtub!Here's a closeup of the wallpaper. It's a nice maroon color with gold emblem sort of designs.
They're nice until you put it over all wall surfaces. It took some...er...getting used to. Now, when I'm bored, I cross my eyes and try to spot the 3-D image.I have a few storage purchases to make, but I'm pretty much settled in and loving it!

Picture Post: Around the hood

To celebrate my 6 months of living in the City (and about 1 month in this studio) I thought I'd share some sights.

And if I could, I'd complete the sensory experience by inserting the sounds of Muni running along electric wires, the smell of pot, the taste of a late night burrito, and the touch of mystery substance on a BART seat. Hmmm...that sounds kind of negative. Let's change that to the sounds of a live band coming out the door of the Knockout, the smell of Martha and Bros coffee, and...well, the burrito is definitely good, and the touch of Delores Park grass with bare feet. Wait, I'd advise against that...

I live in a studio. With one window, what it lacks in natural light, it makes up for in privacy (my front door in lower right).
The location is along the "Bernal Bricks." Some neighbors insist on posting signs to save these bricks, but for the life of me, I cannot find their history. Side note: I Googled it, then gave up.
Bernal Hill has some of the best views of the City skyline and it's a short walk from home.What's on the top of Bernal Hill? This ugly tower.
I'm pretty sure Barbie lives here:

And some really sickeningly supportive parents live here. They probably have "My kid is an honor student" bumper stickers plastered all over their cars.

Parking can get tricky. There are some tight fits. Side note: In actuality, these are not tight fits, but this was the best I could find. I contemplated staging a tight fit with my own car, but decided not to chance it.

And there are people who don't know how to park on hills. Only YOU can prevent roll-aways.
San Franciscans refuse to admit they do not have real front yards. So they surround dirt patches with a "fence," plant a single bush, and water it with joy.
San Franciscans, and especially Bernal Heights-ians, love their dogs. Check out this doggie ramp. The weird part (if that weren't weird enough): There's a doll arm stuck in the windshield wiper.
On that note, I love it here! There's always something unexpected around the corner; sometimes pleasant, sometimes funny, sometimes creepy. And I'm ok with that.

The bull run is B.S.

Maybe I'm feeling mean today. Or maybe I'm finally having a moment of clarity. After coming across this Associated Press video of this year's running of the bulls in Spain, I began rooting for the bulls. I actually had the conscious thought that I wanted those people to get hurt to learn a lesson. Somehow, though, I don't think it would be a lesson, I think they would just use it as bragging rights.

The bulls didn't look big and aggressive and powerful, they looked scared and defensive and confused. The humans (they are not real men, in my definition) were pulling at their tails, poking them with sticks and, when the bull was lucky, being gored with a horn.

One man died this year. I'm not cold-hearted enough to say that I'm not sorry for his friends and family, but imagine the shame he has standing at the pearly gates, explaining to God that he died purposely harassing an animal with sharp horns. I feel ashamed just being the same species as this guy.

I'm not a vegetarian and I don't necessarily go out of my way to purchase products from companies that practice better treatment toward animals. But somehow torturing animals for entertainment seems worse than for food. Am I being hypocritical? Sometimes PETA crosses the line, but I can get on board with this protest.

Here are some other posts/articles - on both sides of the fence - in case you're interested.
US News - Bonnie Erbe (be sure to read the counter argument from commenters - interesting points are made here)
Wikipedia
Los Angeles Times
MindReign
another video:

SF Update

After hearing about my local parking patrol officer leaving me a “Welcome to the neighborhood!” note on my car, my neighbor suggested I write an update to my City by the Bay post.

Unfortunately, the timing couldn’t be worse, as I’m moving!

Well, maybe the timing is actually perfect and I now have the opportunity to reflect on some of the stories and memories that are quintessentially “SF.”

Wednesday Dinner at Annie’s

Almost immediately, I was welcomed into the family that formed every Wednesday night in Annie and Noah’s apartment in the Mission. We cook spaghetti, tacos, breakfast for dinner and even paella, along with consuming countless bottles of beer and wine. But the highlight, no matter how delicious the food, is the conversation and the company – a hodgepodge of high school buddies, past and present coworkers, boyfriends, girlfriends, best friends, and yours truly, a friend of a friend of a friend.

Parking

Sometimes I score a close spot, other times require a 4 block hike up the hill, but I never got tickets, until entering my third month of residency. Then, within a month, I got 3 tickets. The funniest, or perhaps most ironic part is that about a month ago, the parking patrol left me a blank ticket form with no violations on it. It simply read, in plain, all caps lettering, “WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD!” That’s nice, I thought. Now I know better – they were just thanking me in advance for helping them meet their quota.

Bernal Hill

I try to end my runs with a jaunt to the top of Bernal Hill, which really feels more like a mountain after a sweaty 4.5 mile run. On a clear day, you can see Twin Peaks to the West, the Golden Gate Bridge to the North, downtown and the Bay Bridge, the East Bay, and even candlestick Park to the South. Being up there always puts things into perspective for me. The other evening, Sean and I walked up the hill to find the sky ablaze with an amazing red sunset. He took amazing photos, I stood in awe.

Eat, drink, and be merry

San Francisco is saturated with good food and good bars. So much so, that despite sticking to my intense workout routine, I’ve managed to find a few of my lost pounds again. But I think the countless pints at the Dovre, burritos at El Gran Taco Loco

(featuring a mural of a gun-wielding jalapeno chasing a taco), sandwiches at Socha, BBQ, Cambodian cuisine at Angkor Borei, spicy prawns and linguine at Emmy’s Spaghetti Shack. And I can’t leave out my ultimate

favorite: Coffee from Martha and Brothers; that Martha is a true master.

Roomie

After living on my own for 2 years, I feared I either wouldn't be a good roommate or I wouldn't be flexible enough to live with someone. But in the few short months I found out that yet again, I've lucked out with a comfortable, fun and friendly living situation and it's a little bit sad for me to see it go. She welcomed me into the Dovre family, gave me flowers after my half marathon, and provided that perfect balance between friendliness and leaving me the hell alone when I just needed me time. Oh, and she makes the best meatloaf. Ever (sorry mom). Unfortunately, we don't take good pictures together, but I did find one with Dovre owner Julie in the middle.

My first SF adventure ends, another begins.

The truth in tea

The tag for the tea I’m drinking right now has “Enjoy the Experience” written on it. It reminded me of what I kept repeating to myself while running the two hours and 12 minutes it took me to complete my first half-marathon last Saturday.

Don’t get me wrong, telling yourself to enjoy it and actually enjoying it are two very separate things. But it did encourage me to stop focusing on the end, when of course I’d be happy and proud, smiling and giddy, and start focusing on the present, when I’m taking it one stride at a time.






The photos taken of me that day are all within the last mile of the run. Looking back, I wish someone had taken a picture of me at mile 1, when I was still feeling winded, not quite warmed up. Or mile 4, when I began struggling with my fanny pack zipper, cursing at it and startling a nearby runner. And maybe a shot or two at mile 8, when I thought, holy %&$, I still have 5 more miles (I can only imaging the look on my face). Then maybe mile 10, when I felt a burst of energy, and mile 11 when my knees started aching. Those shots would have shown the truth, or rather, the whole truth, about my run.

I guess that’s what happens in life, too – we take photos and have memories of reaching our goals: Graduations, Weddings, baby showers, promotions. But rarely do we remember, let alone celebrate along the way, all the ups and downs we go through to get there. What if, as my teabag tag so wisely proclaims, we enjoy the experience? It doesn’t diminish the end, it simply allows you to truly believe that it’s the journey, not the destination.



Of course, in my case, the destination included my loved ones, chocolate, and champagne…not too shabby.


















And here's the sign my proud mom made; she saw me finish this time ;)
















Thanks for the photos, Sean (not to mention being there)!

What I learned on my practice run

1. Go to the bathroom before the run

The jarring from running doesn’t feel good on the bladder. Kristine and I arrived in plenty of time to join the group for a stretch and orientation, but I couldn’t be bothered to wait in line for the toilet, so thought I could wait it out and find a bathroom further down the course. We passed three or four bathrooms and was just too excited to stop. Then, when it started to hurt, no bathrooms were in sight. I ended up holding it the whole time. Probably not healthy, but I think in the end, it was more nervousness than an actual physical need.

2. Wear a pedometer

Apparently, while I practiced my run, the people putting on the event were practicing getting the mileage and the mile markers accurate. It was supposed to be 10 miles. I was mentally prepared for 10 miles. I sped up around mile 8 thinking I still had energy to finish for a 10 miles run. Instead, the run was about 11.5 miles. I almost died. OK, I was fine, but my mind started playing tricks on me, like telling me I couldn’t do it. But I had some good advice before the race – the end will always be there, focus on the process. The process was that I ran for 1 hour 53 minutes almost non-stop (had to wait for 2 traffic signals along the route) which means I ran better than a 10-minute mile.

3. Wear a belt with a zip-up pocket to hold your food.

A delicious and refueling peanut butter and honey sandwich does no good if it falls out of the pocket of your jacket tied around your waist. My training hasn’t yet included eating on a run and I was looking forward to trying out a peanut butter sandwich as my fuel about 45-50 minutes into the run so that I could feel the benefits around mile 8 or 9, when I start to crash. The sandwich fell out at about mile 4 or 5. So those ridiculous looking belts are definitely on my shopping list now. Or maybe I’ll just find a super cheesy looking fanny pack just for the heck of it.

4. Use those good thoughts

There were 2 distinct moments that I doubted myself. The first was when I began on a downward spiral of negative thoughts:

I have to go to the bathroom. Is this really 10 miles? It feels like way more. Why doesn’t this stupid lady stay to the right, doesn’t she see me passing her? Hello! Get out of my way! Those girls need to shut the hell up, just because they’re wearing their San Francisco Marathon t-shirts and can run 10 miles while holding a conversation doesn’t mean they need to rub it in everyone’s faces. Man, the Bay smells like sewage! This is disgusting! Why didn’t they mark the 10 miles better? They said they’d have mile markers for this! I don’t remember passing this before. Am I on the right route?

Then I looked up. The San Francisco skyline was on my left. I felt a chill run through my body – I got goose bumps. I thought, ok. What is going right here? My knees and hips are ok, I still have a lot of energy, I’m the perfect temperature, I’m not thirsty or hungry, I can see the park where we finish from here – it’s really not that far. And my mood improved. My chin went up, and I finished the run with a smile on my face.