are alive....with the sound of music (in mmmyyyyy head). Yesterday, I had to do hill repeats. For those familiar with Central Park, I ran from E. 72nd to 90th (roughly a mile) on an effort level 3.5 (on a scale of 1 to 5). This terrain is called "Cat's Hill" and it has both steep incline and steady incline on the way up. We had to use the same effort level and shave off 20 seconds on the way down. We did this routine twice.
First mile up: 8:30 minutes
First mile down: 8:22 minutes
Second mile up: 8:52 minutes
Second mile down: 8:30 minutes
After this routine, we had to run with all our might from E. 72nd to the top of the hill (around E.79th) and then recover on the way down. We did this twice w/o timing.
Two lessons I learned:
1) I am horrible at math. The main reason I didn't shave off twenty seconds on the way down the hill is because I thought 8:30-20 seconds= 8:20. I don't know why. I call it my "runner's brain," sometimes similar to a "chemo brain" as my cancer survivor teammates say.
2) I have the strangest songs pop into my head. At yesterday's training, I had the following song in my head.
The beast being the marathon, I presume. It was a helpful song.
And I crashed when I got home.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
My Honored Teammate: Kavita
As the countdown begins, I am rolling out "My Honored Teammates" format, where I will interview all of honored teammates, even the ones that I just met a few weeks ago.
I've known Kavita practically all of my life. But you know with childhood friends, you never really know them until later. Maybe it has to do wtih the fact that you take them for granted. Or maybe you think they still see you as the bratty eight year-old. Whatever it is, childhood friendships are different. They are more deep and real than I think one could possibly imagine. I never thought that a friendship like the one I have with Kavita would take me down this route, but what an amazing route it has been.
In an awkward fashion for me, but a normal fashion for you, I interviewed Kavita. I want you to get to know one of my childhood friends and one of my biggest inspirations.
Chai: Tell me what you are studying.
Kavita: I am getting my Masters in Music at The Boston Conservatory for VocalPerformance.
C: What is the coolest venue you have ever sung? What made it so cool?
K: The coolest venue I've sung in is probably the Boston Symphony Hall - The hall is considered to be one of three greatest concert halls in the world. (and is one of the oldest in the u.s.). I sang with a women's choir a commercial piece for an animator whose shorthad won an award and was going to be premiered at Disney (I don't recall the actual logistics, but it was something like that.) The hall made me feel that I was a part of something very grand and historical. It was beautiful.
C: Have you always wanted to be a singer?
K: I wouldn't say that I've always "dreamed" of singing, but I always knew that music would be a significant part of my life no matter what instrument, what genre or in what way.
C: What is on your radar after your done attending school?
K: I am prepared to go wherever life takes me. That was one of the morals of my cancer story - you can never plan too far ahead. After I graduate, I plan to audition for local choirs, chorus positions in operas, paint more, write more and hopefully sell a couple cds. Who knows what's going to happen?
C: How has cancer affected your ability to sing or has it?
K: The doctors found 2 lumps; one in my neck and one in my lungs. Therefore I had radiation directly to my lungs, throat, and larynx. They said they didn't know what the consequences were going to be. I was prepared for the worst. When I went back to finish my undergrad degree, my lung capacity was compromised, but I didn't care. I'mstill recuperating and my voice is definitely different than it was, but I don't think it's worse..it's just...different.
BUT, on to my next hurdle. When I recently went to my checkup, they said because I got radiation to my thyroid, it's starting to fail. So they put me on meds. I didn't worry too much, but when I went to see the endocrinologist, he told me to go get an ultrasound of my thyroid "just in case." Turns out, I have nodes on my thyroid - a bunch of little ones on the left and a big one on the right. The big one could be cancerous. If I have nodes on my thyroid, it's highly possible that I have nodes on my vocal chords.
So the next step is to go get a biopsy. Here we go again...
If I do have nodes on my vocal chords, that means I need to take months possibly years off of singing. Cross your fingers.
C: Our fingers are crossed! Did you ever fear that your illness would affect your singing?
K: Yes, during treatment I kept wondering what my musical future would hold because everything was so up in the air. Now however, I feel that even if I couldn't sing classical music professionally, I have many other options. Before being diagnosed, I could not write music. I just couldn't. I would try to sit down and write a song and nothing would come out. And now I can.
And I am painting so much more now. And I write a lot. I feel like I could be happy doing many things. Music just needs to be IN my life, I certainly don't need to make money off of it. In fact, it's probably better if Idon't.
C: Do you write your own lyrics?
K: Yes I write my own lyrics. Writing songs is so much fun.
C: As a youngster, what did you want to be when you were "grown up"?
K: It's interesting because I was never that type of person that always wanted to do something and only that something. My mom used to hop around from job to job and I always used to think that that was so fun. My goal has always been, to do Everything at least once. Haha.
C: When you were going through chemo, what motivated you to stay strong through it all? Or do you even think you stayed strong?
K: During chemo and radiation, there is no choice. You just kind of have to brace yourself and get through it. And I feel like I wasn't that strong. I would let my mind get the better of me (the goddamn steroids make you think and think and think like a coke addict on vicodin.) But in the end, it all came down to my family and my friends, and how much of my life I HADN'T lived yet. I wasn't ready to go. And I felt I had so much to offer.
That is something you realize - how much you have to give. The year after treatment was the most productive I've ever been. Maybe because on some level I genuinely felt like I might not have that much time left.
C: For a person who enjoys her share of music venues, where would you suggest I go the next time I come to Boston?
K: I've been to the Boston Lyrics Opera twice since i've been here and they are phenomenal. For like, rock/live music venues, I recommend a bar called T.T. The Bears. It's great fun. For Jazz, I recommend a place called Wallys in Southy. They were one of the first jazz bars ever.C: Some of my teammates are cancer survivors. Do you think I can convince you one day to train and run in a marathon with me? :)
K: Like I said earlier, my lung capacity sucks. So I would LOVE to train. But I don't know how successful I'd be. But hey, why not. Let's do it.
C: Free style.
K: I think you are an amazing person, and I can't wait to see where YOU'RE going to go, in your career and in your passions. All of us with the same motivations need to come together and do something great.
Links:
http://www.kavitart.com/
http://www.myspace.com/kavitamusic
http://www.myspace.com/kavitart
http://www.uplifted-aph.org/
I've known Kavita practically all of my life. But you know with childhood friends, you never really know them until later. Maybe it has to do wtih the fact that you take them for granted. Or maybe you think they still see you as the bratty eight year-old. Whatever it is, childhood friendships are different. They are more deep and real than I think one could possibly imagine. I never thought that a friendship like the one I have with Kavita would take me down this route, but what an amazing route it has been.
In an awkward fashion for me, but a normal fashion for you, I interviewed Kavita. I want you to get to know one of my childhood friends and one of my biggest inspirations.
Chai: Tell me what you are studying.
Kavita: I am getting my Masters in Music at The Boston Conservatory for VocalPerformance.
C: What is the coolest venue you have ever sung? What made it so cool?
K: The coolest venue I've sung in is probably the Boston Symphony Hall - The hall is considered to be one of three greatest concert halls in the world. (and is one of the oldest in the u.s.). I sang with a women's choir a commercial piece for an animator whose shorthad won an award and was going to be premiered at Disney (I don't recall the actual logistics, but it was something like that.) The hall made me feel that I was a part of something very grand and historical. It was beautiful.
C: Have you always wanted to be a singer?
K: I wouldn't say that I've always "dreamed" of singing, but I always knew that music would be a significant part of my life no matter what instrument, what genre or in what way.
C: What is on your radar after your done attending school?K: I am prepared to go wherever life takes me. That was one of the morals of my cancer story - you can never plan too far ahead. After I graduate, I plan to audition for local choirs, chorus positions in operas, paint more, write more and hopefully sell a couple cds. Who knows what's going to happen?
C: How has cancer affected your ability to sing or has it?
K: The doctors found 2 lumps; one in my neck and one in my lungs. Therefore I had radiation directly to my lungs, throat, and larynx. They said they didn't know what the consequences were going to be. I was prepared for the worst. When I went back to finish my undergrad degree, my lung capacity was compromised, but I didn't care. I'mstill recuperating and my voice is definitely different than it was, but I don't think it's worse..it's just...different.
BUT, on to my next hurdle. When I recently went to my checkup, they said because I got radiation to my thyroid, it's starting to fail. So they put me on meds. I didn't worry too much, but when I went to see the endocrinologist, he told me to go get an ultrasound of my thyroid "just in case." Turns out, I have nodes on my thyroid - a bunch of little ones on the left and a big one on the right. The big one could be cancerous. If I have nodes on my thyroid, it's highly possible that I have nodes on my vocal chords.
So the next step is to go get a biopsy. Here we go again...
If I do have nodes on my vocal chords, that means I need to take months possibly years off of singing. Cross your fingers.
C: Our fingers are crossed! Did you ever fear that your illness would affect your singing?
K: Yes, during treatment I kept wondering what my musical future would hold because everything was so up in the air. Now however, I feel that even if I couldn't sing classical music professionally, I have many other options. Before being diagnosed, I could not write music. I just couldn't. I would try to sit down and write a song and nothing would come out. And now I can.
And I am painting so much more now. And I write a lot. I feel like I could be happy doing many things. Music just needs to be IN my life, I certainly don't need to make money off of it. In fact, it's probably better if Idon't.
C: Do you write your own lyrics?
K: Yes I write my own lyrics. Writing songs is so much fun.
C: As a youngster, what did you want to be when you were "grown up"?
K: It's interesting because I was never that type of person that always wanted to do something and only that something. My mom used to hop around from job to job and I always used to think that that was so fun. My goal has always been, to do Everything at least once. Haha.
C: When you were going through chemo, what motivated you to stay strong through it all? Or do you even think you stayed strong?
K: During chemo and radiation, there is no choice. You just kind of have to brace yourself and get through it. And I feel like I wasn't that strong. I would let my mind get the better of me (the goddamn steroids make you think and think and think like a coke addict on vicodin.) But in the end, it all came down to my family and my friends, and how much of my life I HADN'T lived yet. I wasn't ready to go. And I felt I had so much to offer.
That is something you realize - how much you have to give. The year after treatment was the most productive I've ever been. Maybe because on some level I genuinely felt like I might not have that much time left.
C: For a person who enjoys her share of music venues, where would you suggest I go the next time I come to Boston?
K: I've been to the Boston Lyrics Opera twice since i've been here and they are phenomenal. For like, rock/live music venues, I recommend a bar called T.T. The Bears. It's great fun. For Jazz, I recommend a place called Wallys in Southy. They were one of the first jazz bars ever.C: Some of my teammates are cancer survivors. Do you think I can convince you one day to train and run in a marathon with me? :)
K: Like I said earlier, my lung capacity sucks. So I would LOVE to train. But I don't know how successful I'd be. But hey, why not. Let's do it.
C: Free style.
K: I think you are an amazing person, and I can't wait to see where YOU'RE going to go, in your career and in your passions. All of us with the same motivations need to come together and do something great.
Links:
http://www.kavitart.com/
http://www.myspace.com/kavitamusic
http://www.myspace.com/kavitart
http://www.uplifted-aph.org/
Monday, August 27, 2007
from the mailbag
to: tntchai@gmail.com
from: M@hotmail.com
subject: re: Thank you!
date: 8/27/07
Hi Chai!
Thanks for giving me the opportunity to donate, and please continue nagging my brother to do the same :) (He has the best intentions, but the sheer force of his laziness overwhelms them...) I had been meaning to donate for some time, but the event that finally prompted me to conquer my laziness was a visit from one of my most memorable patients.
As you know, my specialty is blood disease - so I cover benign hematology (ie. blood clots, bleeding) and malignant hematology (leukemia, lymphoma, bone marrow transplant). My career is weighted towards the former, because though the latter is very challenging and interesting, it's overwhelmingly sad. The first leukemia patient I saw when I moved to Toronto was a 23 year old man. N. presented like all leukemia patients - suddenly and terrifyingly. He was well one morning, and then the next morning his entire bone marrow was taken over by leukemia cells. He was septic, bleeding, and too weak to walk unsupported when I saw him.
The only person with him was his older sister, S., who was 27. Seeing these two in my clinic was particularly heart-wrenching because they were the same age as my brother and I. I know you're a proud big sister too, so you can only imagine all of the projection that was going on during this clinical encounter. S. and N. were remarkably kind and loving people. S. held her brother's hand during the entire visit, and even stood by him while I did the bone marrow. At the end of the visit, I had to tell them that N. had less than a 30% chance of surviving the first month. As the porters wheeled N. upstairs, S. and I sat in the clinic room and cried. She kept thanking me for what I was doing for them, and I kept thinking that I really wasn't able to do very much.
N. had a really horrible course in hospital - multiple infections, every side effect from chemo that you could imagine. I ended up losing touch with him and his sister, because I moved to another hospital. But I thought about them often. In fact, I used the painful memory of our first encounter as my #1 reason NOT to continue in malignant hematology.
Last week I was helping out in a bone marrow transplant clinic, and the nurse asked if I could do a routine screening on a new donor. That new donor was S. To my suprise and delight, N. had survived induction chemotherapy. He was in a tenuous remission, and his sister (a perfect match) was going to give him the chance of a lasting cure by donating her marrow. S. and I hadn't seen each other in months, and the first thing she said was "Dr. M, I was hoping it would be you! I wouldn't let anyone else do a bone marrow on me!" Which was a weird compliment... But I took it nonetheless :) I was so happy that things had come full circle. In January S. told me that she would do anything to save her brother's life. I had to reorient her, and help her prepare for the worst. Without taking away her hope, I had to help her realize that we could do our best, but could not control N's fate. Last week I got to do a much better job. I got to tell S. that this time, she was in control. She could give her brother the most amazing gift - the gift of life. There were lots of tears this time as well, but they were much happier :)
That was a very long winded email, but... bottom line: Thank you for running for leukemia and lymphoma. They are horrible diseases, but in the midst of all the sadness there is so much hope! I would love if you could wear one ribbon to celebrate the lives of all the families I have had the privilege of caring for - those who had happy endings, and those who have left us with happy memories.
XOXO M.
---
this email brought me to tears. thank you, m, for having the courage to send me a personal story. i am running for you, as a doctor working with cancer patients, and for the patients you work with. what i find hope in are the number of people who are finding hope through this form of love and giving back.
from: M@hotmail.com
subject: re: Thank you!
date: 8/27/07
Hi Chai!
Thanks for giving me the opportunity to donate, and please continue nagging my brother to do the same :) (He has the best intentions, but the sheer force of his laziness overwhelms them...) I had been meaning to donate for some time, but the event that finally prompted me to conquer my laziness was a visit from one of my most memorable patients.
As you know, my specialty is blood disease - so I cover benign hematology (ie. blood clots, bleeding) and malignant hematology (leukemia, lymphoma, bone marrow transplant). My career is weighted towards the former, because though the latter is very challenging and interesting, it's overwhelmingly sad. The first leukemia patient I saw when I moved to Toronto was a 23 year old man. N. presented like all leukemia patients - suddenly and terrifyingly. He was well one morning, and then the next morning his entire bone marrow was taken over by leukemia cells. He was septic, bleeding, and too weak to walk unsupported when I saw him.
The only person with him was his older sister, S., who was 27. Seeing these two in my clinic was particularly heart-wrenching because they were the same age as my brother and I. I know you're a proud big sister too, so you can only imagine all of the projection that was going on during this clinical encounter. S. and N. were remarkably kind and loving people. S. held her brother's hand during the entire visit, and even stood by him while I did the bone marrow. At the end of the visit, I had to tell them that N. had less than a 30% chance of surviving the first month. As the porters wheeled N. upstairs, S. and I sat in the clinic room and cried. She kept thanking me for what I was doing for them, and I kept thinking that I really wasn't able to do very much.
N. had a really horrible course in hospital - multiple infections, every side effect from chemo that you could imagine. I ended up losing touch with him and his sister, because I moved to another hospital. But I thought about them often. In fact, I used the painful memory of our first encounter as my #1 reason NOT to continue in malignant hematology.
Last week I was helping out in a bone marrow transplant clinic, and the nurse asked if I could do a routine screening on a new donor. That new donor was S. To my suprise and delight, N. had survived induction chemotherapy. He was in a tenuous remission, and his sister (a perfect match) was going to give him the chance of a lasting cure by donating her marrow. S. and I hadn't seen each other in months, and the first thing she said was "Dr. M, I was hoping it would be you! I wouldn't let anyone else do a bone marrow on me!" Which was a weird compliment... But I took it nonetheless :) I was so happy that things had come full circle. In January S. told me that she would do anything to save her brother's life. I had to reorient her, and help her prepare for the worst. Without taking away her hope, I had to help her realize that we could do our best, but could not control N's fate. Last week I got to do a much better job. I got to tell S. that this time, she was in control. She could give her brother the most amazing gift - the gift of life. There were lots of tears this time as well, but they were much happier :)
That was a very long winded email, but... bottom line: Thank you for running for leukemia and lymphoma. They are horrible diseases, but in the midst of all the sadness there is so much hope! I would love if you could wear one ribbon to celebrate the lives of all the families I have had the privilege of caring for - those who had happy endings, and those who have left us with happy memories.
XOXO M.
---
this email brought me to tears. thank you, m, for having the courage to send me a personal story. i am running for you, as a doctor working with cancer patients, and for the patients you work with. what i find hope in are the number of people who are finding hope through this form of love and giving back.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Inspiration: Daddy
I was never really a daddy's girl, but more of daddy's little tomboy. As I grew up, I tried to emulate my dad as much as possible. And then, of course, I became a teenager and rebelled against everyone, including him.
While I ran eighteen miles* yesterday, I kept thinking of my dad. He is a true inspiration to me, particularly while marathon training. He became a marathoner later in life, as a health conscious revolution took place inside of my household. I remember eating more green salads, watching my dad drink carrot juice, and seeing him lose weight. I even remember attending my dad's first marathon. It was in Monterey. And I remember him being really tired afterwards.
My dad has done a total of five marathons. FIVE.
Even though he has stopped running marathons due to weaker knees, my dad still runs every week, at least ten miles. He is a trooper and does it without much complaining.
So as I ran through the streets of Manhattan, I thought of Daddy and all that he has accomplished. I hope to cross the finish line and give him a big hug!
*Yes, I did eighteen miles on my birthday. Yes, it was amazingly hard. Yes, I am STILL tired and recovering. My route was a bit crazy, but the weather made the running that much more worse.
While I ran eighteen miles* yesterday, I kept thinking of my dad. He is a true inspiration to me, particularly while marathon training. He became a marathoner later in life, as a health conscious revolution took place inside of my household. I remember eating more green salads, watching my dad drink carrot juice, and seeing him lose weight. I even remember attending my dad's first marathon. It was in Monterey. And I remember him being really tired afterwards.
My dad has done a total of five marathons. FIVE.
Even though he has stopped running marathons due to weaker knees, my dad still runs every week, at least ten miles. He is a trooper and does it without much complaining.
So as I ran through the streets of Manhattan, I thought of Daddy and all that he has accomplished. I hope to cross the finish line and give him a big hug!
*Yes, I did eighteen miles on my birthday. Yes, it was amazingly hard. Yes, I am STILL tired and recovering. My route was a bit crazy, but the weather made the running that much more worse.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
running on emotions
yesterday was quite an emotional day for me. i'll start from the beginning.
i woke up at 5:30AM to my cell phone alarm. i laid in bed for a few mins and jumped up to start my breakfast. i cut my bagel in half, popped into the toaster, and started doing the dishes. the bagels were toasted so i spread some trader joe's tapenada on it. this time, i wore a running shirt with a pocket. since there was no bag watch, i had to bring my metro card, money, and keys with me.
i stepped out of my apartment at 7:15, ready to take on this run. it was chilly. the wind almost toppled my hat off my head. i made a quick stop at the deli for some gatorade (mango flavored) and started walking towards 6th Avenue. i caught the 2 train to 72nd street. i sat on the subway without any reading material, so i watched other passengers. it felt a bit odd, voyeuristic really, to be looking at people who were riding the same subway car as you at 7:35 in the morning.
i made it to riverside park on time. everyone had goosebumps. not only was it cold (a mere 55F), but there was a lot of wind. we listened to our coach who gave us directions for our run. we started running. my teammate, lori, and i kept pace with one another.
we ran from 72nd and west to chambers. from chambers we ran to the brooklyn bridge. from brooklyn bridge we took a left, then a right on to flatbush. from flatbush, we ran up to prospect park. while in prospect park, we did one big loop, a hill run, and then a small loop. in total, we ran about 15 miles [check the route here].
running across brooklyn bridge was probably the most emotional event i have ever done. i said to lori, "i can't believe i'm in new york, running across the brooklyn bridge, raising money to fight cancer." if you would have told me, last year, that this is what i would be doing, i would not have believed you. i'm a bit in shock. fine, i'm really in shock. the BROOKLYN BRIDGE!
egads.
it was the toughest run as of yet. the hills, the mental game, the anguish of just wanting the run to be over. but i did it! next week, i'm supposed to be running 16.
i woke up at 5:30AM to my cell phone alarm. i laid in bed for a few mins and jumped up to start my breakfast. i cut my bagel in half, popped into the toaster, and started doing the dishes. the bagels were toasted so i spread some trader joe's tapenada on it. this time, i wore a running shirt with a pocket. since there was no bag watch, i had to bring my metro card, money, and keys with me.
i stepped out of my apartment at 7:15, ready to take on this run. it was chilly. the wind almost toppled my hat off my head. i made a quick stop at the deli for some gatorade (mango flavored) and started walking towards 6th Avenue. i caught the 2 train to 72nd street. i sat on the subway without any reading material, so i watched other passengers. it felt a bit odd, voyeuristic really, to be looking at people who were riding the same subway car as you at 7:35 in the morning.
i made it to riverside park on time. everyone had goosebumps. not only was it cold (a mere 55F), but there was a lot of wind. we listened to our coach who gave us directions for our run. we started running. my teammate, lori, and i kept pace with one another.
we ran from 72nd and west to chambers. from chambers we ran to the brooklyn bridge. from brooklyn bridge we took a left, then a right on to flatbush. from flatbush, we ran up to prospect park. while in prospect park, we did one big loop, a hill run, and then a small loop. in total, we ran about 15 miles [check the route here].
running across brooklyn bridge was probably the most emotional event i have ever done. i said to lori, "i can't believe i'm in new york, running across the brooklyn bridge, raising money to fight cancer." if you would have told me, last year, that this is what i would be doing, i would not have believed you. i'm a bit in shock. fine, i'm really in shock. the BROOKLYN BRIDGE!
egads.
it was the toughest run as of yet. the hills, the mental game, the anguish of just wanting the run to be over. but i did it! next week, i'm supposed to be running 16.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
fundraising fun
i'm seriously overwhelmed by the love and support i am getting from strangers, friends, family, co-workers, law school classmates, high school classmates, oldtimers, new timers, adults, teens....seriously amazing.
on wednesday, august 15, 2007, i crossed the $5000 mark in my fundraising. yippee!
now, i've raised the bar to take the fundraising to a new level. i want to raise $7500 in ONE month.
help me do this!
do it for all the people, or people's people you know affected by cancer. moms who have passed away due to breast cancer. dads who have had to deal with the blow of hearing the words "prostate cancer." sisters who weren't able to attend their senior prom because they passed away to leukemia. brothers who envied other children because they could play ball outside in the summer sun, while they lay there battling lymphoma. friends who called out for help in times of chemo, while you were enjoying a "regular college life."
do it for them, for those, and others you don't even know.
if you have donated, please help me out and pass on this blog and fundraising website to your friends, family, and co-workers. i truly believe people want to help.
by donating, not only are you saving lives TODAY, you will be saving lives for generations to come after us.
http://www.active.com/donate/tntnyc/runchai
on wednesday, august 15, 2007, i crossed the $5000 mark in my fundraising. yippee!
now, i've raised the bar to take the fundraising to a new level. i want to raise $7500 in ONE month.
help me do this!
do it for all the people, or people's people you know affected by cancer. moms who have passed away due to breast cancer. dads who have had to deal with the blow of hearing the words "prostate cancer." sisters who weren't able to attend their senior prom because they passed away to leukemia. brothers who envied other children because they could play ball outside in the summer sun, while they lay there battling lymphoma. friends who called out for help in times of chemo, while you were enjoying a "regular college life."
do it for them, for those, and others you don't even know.
if you have donated, please help me out and pass on this blog and fundraising website to your friends, family, and co-workers. i truly believe people want to help.
by donating, not only are you saving lives TODAY, you will be saving lives for generations to come after us.
http://www.active.com/donate/tntnyc/runchai
Fourteen miles and then some
on saturday i ran fourteen POINT four miles. yes, writing out the numbers makes the miles seem a bigger deal than they actually are. seriously, if you read 14.4 would it have made as big of an impact as fourteen point four miles? but, i digress.
i wasn't that sore and even was pleasant at a BBQ my husband prepared for us. it was PERFECT running weather. what does that mean? it means there was a slight breeze, barely any humidity, and the sun wasn't blazing hot.
i did do that was a bit silly (read: lesson for runners) on the saturday run. while i was leaving my apartment at 7:15 in the morning, i decided not to take my fuel belt. i have really bad memories of running around in that belt and it causing me alot of stomach pain.
i went to the deli and bought a gatorade that i could hold in my hand while running (i prefer this method). as soon as i got to the subway station, i realized that my running outfit had no pockets. and since we were running long distance, i needed gel.
i got to urban athletics, our bag drop place, and bought cliff shots. i decided on the subway ride over to central park, i would put the gel in my sports bra. after the successful run, i went home and jumped in the shower. and i immediately felt a burn in the chest area as the water hit my skin. i looked down and there was a small red circle. it looked like i started chaffing, a runner's nightmare.
now i know. pockets/safety pins are KEY.
two days ago, i ran with the group in central park (CP). we did cross training exercises that included squats, sprints, scissor runs, hamstring lifts, and crunches galore. i actually heart cross training. there is something about working all the muscle groups that makes going to sleep that much better.
this saturday, i will be running from riverside park to prospect park (10 miles) and then doing two loops in PP. i can't wait to run across the brooklyn bridge.
i wasn't that sore and even was pleasant at a BBQ my husband prepared for us. it was PERFECT running weather. what does that mean? it means there was a slight breeze, barely any humidity, and the sun wasn't blazing hot.
i did do that was a bit silly (read: lesson for runners) on the saturday run. while i was leaving my apartment at 7:15 in the morning, i decided not to take my fuel belt. i have really bad memories of running around in that belt and it causing me alot of stomach pain.
i went to the deli and bought a gatorade that i could hold in my hand while running (i prefer this method). as soon as i got to the subway station, i realized that my running outfit had no pockets. and since we were running long distance, i needed gel.
i got to urban athletics, our bag drop place, and bought cliff shots. i decided on the subway ride over to central park, i would put the gel in my sports bra. after the successful run, i went home and jumped in the shower. and i immediately felt a burn in the chest area as the water hit my skin. i looked down and there was a small red circle. it looked like i started chaffing, a runner's nightmare.
now i know. pockets/safety pins are KEY.
two days ago, i ran with the group in central park (CP). we did cross training exercises that included squats, sprints, scissor runs, hamstring lifts, and crunches galore. i actually heart cross training. there is something about working all the muscle groups that makes going to sleep that much better.
this saturday, i will be running from riverside park to prospect park (10 miles) and then doing two loops in PP. i can't wait to run across the brooklyn bridge.
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