He Said: I wish there was no finish line

We tried hard to do this marathon thing. We had fun runs. Planned our training but because of life in the big city we never got to our goal. But it had the greatest moments in my life. Running in central park, the two of us in stride together, nothing but our breathing telling each other that we were working together on something special. Running in Florida in the heat, looking at each other with admiration for each others hard work. Celebrating a run by drinking red wine and watching the sun set, telling each other how much we were in love, with each other. How I wish that moment stayed forever. Going to Paris and watching the poor Parisians try and run amongst the shoppers and cafe hoppers. Saying how you cannot train for a marathon in Paris. But life got in the way of our goal of running the marathon. But I do not regret trying.

Gelly. I love you. I'll never forget our attempt. Maybe one day...

She said: Yeah baby, yeah

Today: 10.5 miles in the cold. Yeah baby, yeah.

She said: Pulled in all directions

Lately, I've felt exhausted - not so much physically, but emotionally and mentally. Work has been good, but every morning there's a new pile of things to do on my desk, from expenses to file to restaurant reviews to edit. As I try to whittle away at these chores, new tasks arise and I constantly feel the pressure of having something to do. The second job doesn't help: I'm now working with a student whom I see three times a week. And then there's yoga, a newfound joy that requires a certain amount of time if I want to get better (which, come on, you know I do). And finally, the marathon, looming larger every day. A 10-miler to put in this weekend, soon followed by 12, 14, 16, 18, 20... It overwhelms. I told my friend that I felt like saltwater taffy and he correctly told me I needed to work on my metaphors: Taffy is pulled in two directions, not eight. Still, you know what I'm saying: pulled in all directions, stretched just a little bit too thin.

Luckily, today is my last day tutoring for about a month. I'm taking a hiatus, letting myself breathe a little. My next class will start sometime in February, giving me four long weeks of no obligations other than job number one. I can't even tell you how excited I am.

And, perhaps more importantly, in less than a week, Andrew and I leave for Paris. A spontaneous decision, I was, frankly, shocked that Andrew agreed to it. But he's never been to Paris, and as for me, it's been way too long. These feet need to put on those travelling shoes more often than most. We will, of course, visit the Louvre and the Pompidou, eat at bistros and drink cafes cremes while people-watching. And we will most definitely not run. Which I'm hoping will re-invigorate me for the long marathon road ahead.

For now, though, it's 10 miles or bust. Still contemplating whether to brave the chilly weather or to say hello to my new best friend, the treadmill. I'll let you know how it goes...

She said: Running to eat

Last night, I took Andrew to a press (read: free) dinner at a steakhouse called Flames. The ambiance left a little to be desired (think: a medley of Madonna, George Michael, Bryan Adams and Melissa Etheridge, coral walls and empty tables), but the meal more than made up for it and the music jogged memories and inspired funny stories (my next door neighbor vacuuming to Meatloaf or my mom's love for Bryan Adams and Mel Gibson). The appetizers were standard - nothing offensive about the chopped tomato and avocado salad or lobster bisque - but the real test of a steakhouse is, well, it's steak. I can't honestly remember when I've enjoyed a steak so much: the Porterhouse was seared to perfection, crispy and tender, just rare enough. We also topped off a bottle of wine (despite our protests - we wanted wine by the glass - the cheery Albanian waiter brought over a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, St. Francis Reserve, insisting that if we didn't drink it, he would finish it off for us), picked at broccoli rabe and mashed potatoes and still somehow had room for some sort of vanilla and chocolate mousse concoction. To be fair, we took a sizeable amount of steak home, but still: good thing I put in that seven-miler yesterday morning.

Ah yes: You knew somehow this was related to running. It may seem that I'm much more interesting in eating than I am in running. To be fair, I do love a good run, but on most days, when given the option - run or eat - well, Cuban rice and beans, homemade baked ziti, chocolate chip cookies or Porterhouse steak usually win out. Still, eating, for me at least, is much more enjoyable when I know I deserve it. And yesterday, I earned my meat and potatoes.

At 7am, the alarm clock went off, the soothing voice of NPR nudging me out of slumber. Almost automatically, I got up, made coffee and stumbled back to bed until the smell of French Roast and the guilty feeling that I was supposed to be training for a marathon forced me to face reality. The gym was deserted -- translation: no people watching to distract me from the miles ahead of me. I started out at 10 minute miles, quickly working my way up to 9 minute miles with very little trouble. After 20 minutes and a little over 2 miles, I picked up the pace to "race pace" or 8:30 minute miles (that's the nice thing about the marathon: race pace is nice and slow). Three times one mile at 8:30, with 3-4 minutes at 9-9:30 in between for recovery. By the time I had cooled down, I had put in seven miles - and barely even noticed it.

She said: Time to get serious

On Friday, as hoped, I took a yoga class at Bikram Yoga NYC on West 72nd Street. While I was loving the warmer climate outside of yoga, the humidity made the sweaty room all the hotter. Still, I survived and followed class with a trip to Barneys for a spiffy new coat from Theory (As my dad says, I'm a real Conde Nast girl now - well, maybe). Then, dinner at Telepan - where to start? Let's just say, one of my favorite dining experiences ever - up there with Michel Rostang and Guy Savoy in Paris, Gotham, Artisanal and Wallse in New York... out of this world, but down-to-earth at the same time.

On Saturday, I logged in an 8-miler in Central Park. The weather was just about perfect (okay, maybe a little warmer would have been nice) and I felt strong the entire time (except for about 2 miles in when I suddenly, and urgently, needed to go to the bathroom). The rest of the day was a blur of holiday revelry, topped off with the traditional Campbell reading of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas. My dad likes to quiz us on obscure details: What day of the week was the first reading of 'Twas? Wednesday, of course. What is Clement Moore's middle initial? C. of course! What year was 'Twas first published? That's a tricky one - written in 1822, but published in 1879, I believe, but I could be forgetting already.

Sunday, I rested and indulged in Christmas breakfast of eggs, bacon and croissants, then present opening followed by Christmas cookies and, a few hours later, wine and cheese. Too tired and full of cheese to make or eat dinner, we opted for apple pie and ice cream and an early bed time. Monday, morning, though, I was up and at 'em - on the treadmill for 6 miles or so before heading back into the city.

Today is Tuesday, my first day back at work, which can make anyone more than a little cranky. But I eased in with a cup of coffee and some fruit, resolved to quit the pre-holiday habit of muffin-eating in the morning. On to job number two now and then, hopefully, yoga at 7:45. Praying Paola or Raphael will go easy on me.

Going forward, it's time to get serious. Over the weekend, I looked at some running books and training schedules with my mom and I definitely need to be putting in some longer runs. So far, the longest has been 9, but by the end of January, I need to be thinking more along the lines of 12 or even 14. Time to sit down and make a battle plan - April is approaching.

She said: Back in the saddle

On Friday, I headed down to yoga for my second workout of the week: Ugh. But with yoga, unlike capoeira, I always feel better afterward. Spirits lifted, I pulled on my jeans, which seem to be fitting a little looser these days, slipped on my heels, and strolled over to Ama for some well-deserved Italian food. I don't think I've eaten with so much gusto in a long time. Then on Saturday and Sunday, I put in two 6 milers on the treadmill. I've found that people watching helps the time go by, so I try to snag a machine in a prime location overlooking the lower floor of the gym. Still, it wasn't easy.

This week, Monday and Tuesday were rest days. I had a new roommate move in, jobs one and two, AND the transit strike to deal with. Wednesday, though, I was back at the gym, 7 miles - count 'em - one, two, three, four, five, six, seven - I did, and they went by painstakingly slowly. Then I treked around town, picking up keys from my sister, doing some holiday shopping and cursing the strike. Not that I don't have sympathy - it was just damn inconvenient. On Thursday, I walked to and from work and then an additional couple miles to and from yoga. Paola was on me like white on bread: "Pull those quads up, push your chest up, good, now chin up, palms tight, only 30 more seconds (which, if you've never taken Bikram yoga is an eternity)." Today, Friday. Hopefully, I'll be heading over to the gym or to yoga before a celebratory dinner at Telepan - as in, celebration for making it through the holiday shopping season. Although, technically, I do still have one more present to buy and several gifts to wrap - minor details. Hoping to put in a long run tomorrow or the following day - Christmas calories be damned: I plan to burn them all off and then some. Wish me luck - and happy holidays.

He said: Tit for Tat (Long run for baked ziti)

This was a great running week for me. I did my longest run ever and felt great doing it. I have been running for a few months and I feel like I am starting to make some progress. I have been running alone lately and the solitude has really made me face the question of whether I want to do this or not. And so far I would respond with a big YES. I am really enjoying myself.

I ran a total of 21.5 miles for the week with some weight training and a heated yoga class. I did a 9.5 mile run on Saturday afternoon in Central Park. A combination of the large loop and two bridal path loops. It was the first semi warm day over the last couple of weeks in New York and it motivated me to push hard and do my longest run so far. I kept a steady fast pace and I was so proud that I finished. I celebrated with a big plate of baked ziti. Possibly the best way to celebrate a big run.

She said: I've been running on the treadmill...

All the live long day. Or at least that's what it felt like last week: Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, each time a longer run. In all just 17 miles, but then I hit the "sweaty room" (feeling hot, hot, hot) on Saturday for an hour and a half of Bikram yoga.

The winter slump seems to be hitting hard and I'm finding it harder and harder to muster the energy to leave my apartment. This week was especially brutal, with long nights on Tuesday and Wednesday (teaching until 9:30 or so). Feeling a bit under the weather, emotionally and physically, I decided to give the aching muscles and weary mind a break. Yoga on Wednesday, but as for the other days, complete R&R.

Here's hoping next week is more productive. Until then, there's always the weekend - Friday, Saturday, Sunday - to log in the miles. Oh what was I thinking training for a marathon in the winter?

He said: Three cheers for Andrew

Monday - Rest, much needed rest.
Tuesday - 5 mile treadmill run, light weight lifting.
Wednesday - Rest.
Thursday - It is cold, 24 degrees, at 7pm. I sit in my apartment and think it over. Do I really want to do this? After I make my uncertain decision I try to psyche myself up by celebrating with a cheer after every layer of clothing I place on my body. Two pairs of tights (two cheers), long sleeved running top (cheer), a windbreaker (cheer), socks (cheer), sneakers (cheer) and a light weight running cap (cheer). I do not have ear coverings or gloves. I am off onto the Central Park 6 mile loop. Both my hands and feet start to warm up after about 1.5 miles. I finish, after what seems like a very long run, too tired and cold too cheer.
Friday - Rest.
Saturday - 7 miles on treadmill. Light weight lifting.
Sunday - 3 miles on treadmill.
21 miles total.