Observations from 46 2/3

image: http://3.bp.blogspot.com

During my run the other night, it occurred to me that I was 2/3 of the way through my 46th year.  The realization prompted a few thoughts…

I find myself with increasing frequency wondering if an article of clothing is “too young” or “too short.” This is not a bid for compliments, just the reality of my desire to grow older with grace.  Does one just know when to put away those short shorts or that skirt that could reasonably be defined as “mini?”

My runs feel challenging, almost every single time.  If I remind myself to run from the strength of my core, I forget how much my hips and glutes hurt. And another thing – why must people drive so fast in residential areas?  This is Albany.  Where are they rushing to be?

My children can be wildly inappropriate. Case in point: #2 was concerned about his older brother traveling to NYC unaccompanied.  He suggested a t-shirt with a handwritten message, something offensively defensive, like, “Ask me about my raging case of syphilis.” That is funny as hell, to me.

I love a thunderstorm!  Being in bed, feeling the wind blow and watching the sky light up, is an awesome sedative.  I just wish Cassidy, my 12 y/o black lab, had a bit more tolerance for the thunder – maybe doggy ears make the claps too intense?

I am getting so excited for summer and the promise of adventures and travel!  The only thing reining in my enthusiasm is my awareness that two summer holidays make the 10-week break go crazy fast.  Before the mockingly sympathetic comments come in, yes, I do know how fortunate I am to have such an extended summer vacation.  What I can’t understand is how people live a full life with only a couple of weeks of vacation a year.

No matter how high the number goes, I still feel the same as I did when I was half my present  age – open for adventure, enthusiastic about the future and blessed by the presence of people I love and who love me in return.  It’s just a number.

Hand in Hand Run/Walk

Last Sunday I absolved myself for Saturday night’s indulgences by participating in the Hand in Hand Run/Walk down in the Hudson Valley.  Let me be honest with you, I’ll pretty much take any opportunity to visit with friends in the New Paltz area to enjoy some “adults only” time, but the added bonus of a morning race across the Hudson River makes me feel like a winner every time.  This day was no exception.

The race is a fundraiser for programs to support developmentally delayed and disabled children, a cause close to my heart.  Although April has been a recovery sort of month for me in terms of running, I decided to go for the 5 mile run instead of the 5 K option, abiding by my motto of preferring to regret doing something rather than not doing something.  It was a good choice despite the blustery, cold wind that accompanied the portions of the run that involved crossing the river.  Twice.

The course was challenging, but scenic, and the sun was beautiful on the Hudson.  I don’t know about you, but when I’m in close proximity to the majestic Hudson I can’t help but be stunned by how beautiful it truly is.  Imagine being an early explorer and sailing along those waters, in the shadow of the Catskills? Impressive!

This race was an affirmation in every way for me.  After running the Delmar Dash the previous week in a disappointing time, I felt much stronger on Sunday, despite the more challenging terrain of this course.  Seems that partying with the girls, along with a heaping bowl or two of pasta, just might be the best race prep.  I finished 5th in my age group (a small percentage of the participants) with a time of 47:20. Not too shabby.

I’m eyeing a couple of races for May and am particularly excited for SPAC’s Rock and Run on Sunday, May 19th.  They’ve introduced a 10K option for this year and I’m sure the course will be beautiful.   Sounds like more pasta (and another bottle of wine) will be in order.  Who’s in?

An exercise in acceptance

Sadly enough, I did not run when I was in Europe.  Nope (or should I say “nein?), not even once.  I did get some quality exercise walking good distances nearly every day, but my greatest exercise may have come from pacing myself when it came to beer and wine consumption.  I wrote about getting exercise while on the road here.

St. Patrick’s Day ~ 2013

image: http://www.heraldry.ws

On the weeks when I work two double shifts, I struggle to get my miles in.  In addition to being somewhat obsessive about exercise, I am also mistress of the rationalization so, I console myself on these alternating weeks with the fact that I get some physical activity running up and down the stairs at the Wine Bar.  Guilt assuaged.

I had planned to take a run yesterday, but between a super late Friday night, an array of errands and a soccer game (we won), I just knew I didn’t have it in me.  Sunday was essentially looking wide-open and I decided I’d experience that long run which had become almost mythical in my mind – my house to Delaware to Whitehall to New Scotland to Slingerlands and the bypass, to Kenwood and back to Delaware and then home.  I finally had the time and today seemed the ideal day to give it a go.

After a relaxing morning, I put myself in the mindset that my run was a St. Patrick’s Day treat akin to soda bread and a pot of tea from Bewley’s.  I particularly appreciated that any residual March 18 discomfort would be the result of muscle exertion rather than beer over indulgence.  My weather app kept promising clouds, but luckily they never materialized.  I think the somewhat aggressive wind may have kept those moving right along in the blue sky.

John McMenamin

What kept me moving over the 9.5+ miles?  Good music, thoughts of my late Uncle John McMenamin, a man who loved a good brisk walk along the Irish Sea, and my sense that the sun was in complete approval of my efforts.  I allowed myself to move at a pace that I could keep moving at and I am absolutely content with my outing.  If Uncle John and I were able to sit down together with a couple of bowls of his wife Bridie’s creamy vegetable soup, I’d say today was just about an ideal St. Patrick’s Day.  I hope yours was equally enjoyable.

A love letter to Belleayre Mountain

This is my happy face.

Maybe it is because this was the first place I ever truly skied.  Perhaps it is a result of the stunning panoramic views in every direction.  It may be because of the friendliness of every staff member I’ve ever encountered.  Or, it might be because of the all-things-considered reasonableness of the price of a lift ticket and rentals.  This past Sunday, the spectacular weather was definitely a factor.

Whatever it is, I absolutely love Belleayre Mountain.  If you know me, you are aware that my general expectation is not “perfection.” I actually find it to be a bit overrated as a measurement.  Yet, Sunday, I heard myself saying “perfect” an uncountable number of times.  It truly was a day of skiing that I will have a hard time ever matching, much less surpassing, regardless of how many seasons I revisit those slopes.

Why was it so special?  Well, the drive south was beautiful, as winter and spring continued to switch places for a few days.  Getting my equipment and lift ticket was a breeze, and I was on the chairlift within 20 minutes of parking my car.  The snow was soft, the sun was blazing and the sky was blue.  I was traveling light (sans boys), hanging with Aloysius and his next generation, and feeling absolutely giddy on sunshine and life.  To all of you who weren’t there – I’m sincerely sorry you missed the opportunity to feel the joy of gliding down a mountain with the warmth of the sun on your back.  Or the simple happiness of a tasty beer sipped al fresco midway down the slopes.  Bliss.

Upon my return to Albany, the only way I could possibly punctuate a day that glorious was with a terrific dinner at the Capital City Gastropub and my first TasteeFreez visit of the year.  It may not get any better than this, but, no worries, I’ll continue to keep trying.  Kisses – Silvia

That would be a sundae – with nuts.

What makes a perfect snow day?

Yesterday was the first snow day my district has had this academic year – and it was well worth the wait.  I understand that we don’t all have the luxury of a delayed start or the cancellation of our work day due to the weather and think you should know I am very appreciative of this career perk.  I was so very thankful for yesterday’s surprise (2″-4″ was the forecast, I’d say 6″ or 7″ was the reality) snow day that I just might send my superintendent a thank you note.  You know how I like to do that.  Or, as my snow day, cross-country skiing partner in crime suggested, perhaps I should send that note of gratitude to the superintendent of my children’s district for not giving them the day off.  I certainly have enough appreciation to spread it out, trust me.

As I spent my found day doing fun things, I realized that I had experienced a perfect snow day.  Here are the factors which led me to that ultimate conclusion:

• The day off was completely unexpected.  I would have been more than contented with a mere delay.
• Speaking of delays, the fact that the boys were delayed and I was off was an incredible gift.  We had an easy morning and then there was quiet.
• Coffee with my favorite fellow was another unexpected treat.
• Skiing with one of my best hardcore exercise girls at Capital Hills on a day with incredible light and eventual warm temperatures.  Spring skiing rocks!
• A terrific lunch at the golf course’s Club House.  Seriously, the food was really good!
• Getting my Saturday chores done a day early.  It almost feels like I was given 2 days!
• Afternoon coffee with my favorite fellow
• Making pizza with my boys
• A hot bath
• A reasonable bed time
  

  The secret to homemade pizza? A HOT oven.

I hope you were able to enjoy the recent (bonus) snowfall but, if you didn’t, I think I had enough fun for both of us.  You’re welcome!

Gloves are hand tissues and other confessions from a winter runner

I’m not the only one who uses my gloves to catch the drips from my nose during a cold run, am I?  Don’t leave me hanging out here, runner friends!  It’s not like I blow my nose with my favorite striped gloves, I save that for the hem of shirt, but in the winter when I run, so does my nose. C’est la vie.

Winter 2011/12 was most definitely the winter that wasn’t.  I managed to continue running outdoors during those crazy mild months, but I wasn’t certain the story would remain the same during a more typical upstate New York winter.  This year, the case has been proven – I am a four season runner and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Running in the cold means slowing down, because of both the tightness of my muscles and the potential dangers of the terrain.  There are also layers involved.  Sometimes I feel as if I spend as much time suiting up, and eventually stripping down, as I do actually running.  Four layers of UnderArmour certainly keeps a girl warm, but it also occasionally makes me feel as rotund as a Russian doll.  This perception makes me want to run more miles – and consume vodka and caviar.

Often my speed picks up towards the end of my run as the promise of a hot shower nears.  That’s right, I said HOT!  The bliss of finally peeling off my post-run damp second (and third and fourth) skin to step into a steamy hot shower makes all of my efforts a winning investment.  The transition from legs burning, to calories burned, to near scalding shower water is one of my favorite sensations.

As the question of March entering as either a lamb or a lion is thrust at us all with today’s turn of the calendar, I can confidently say it doesn’t matter to me at all.  Either way, I’ll be layering and lacing up and hitting the streets.