Crunchy ‘Nanas

We’ve fallen behind on our gardening? What makes you say that?

Okay, I didn’t run today. But, I thought you’d like to know how productive I was at ripping stuff out of the ground. And getting muddy. The sad part is, you can’t really see a difference. But, it’s a start.

Lately, Crunchy husband and I have been listing local places that could use a little guerrilla gardening action. This morning, I looked out the window and realized we’d better start closer to home!

Today, I direct you to some good shots of penguins by Nathan Myrhvold on the Edge website. (The photography is more stimulating than the text that accompanies it so if you don’t have time to read it all, it’s probably okay.)

Today’s run

Distance: 4.0 miles
Time:38:27
Pace: 9:36 min/mile

One of my current goals in life is to take my cross training to a new level. This weekend’s activities ticked several boxes under this goal including wear Italian shoes that rarely touch the ground but get mighty muddy, dance like a crazy woman, and masticate until I’ve got jaw muscles as big as He-man’s biceps. (I wouldn’t want any of my muscles feeling left out.) It was a productive weekend, toward this goal anyway. The hours I stretched out on the floor of Boogie friend’s house watching Dancing on Ice, Waking the Dead, Robin Hood, and dare I admit, EastEnders, may require a higher level of creative thinking to justly be called ‘productive’.

Saturday morning we went out for a quick ride over to West Cliff to enjoy the sun and sea. It was refreshing after last week’s cold, icy weather. It was pretty non-eventful. So non-eventful that there’s really not anything else that can be said about it. Except it was fun and there were lots of cauliflower plants. And some cute dogs. And that’s where the Italian shoes came in.

After showering away the bits of mud from the ride, we headed to London to meet up with Boogie friend and Boogie friend’s husband for dinner and…a boogie. We were winners, and had dinner in Pinner. Mastication—check! Let’s just say, we like curry. We like it so much we ordered six different main dishes, as well as vegetable side dishes, rice and raitha. And we ate it all, thank you very much! We needed our strength for the dance floor. (Question: if I eat sag paneer every day, will I develop Popeye, the sailor man muscles?)

The pub with the dance floor appears to have a regular dancer, according to Boogie friend. He has been dubbed Bryan Ferry. He’s got the hair flicking down. He knows how to take his place on the floor. This guy’s certainly not afraid to be himself. Crunchy husband claims he’s a Northerner, evidenced by his chattiness and good-natured friendliness at the bar. (I tried to explain to Crunchy husband that Mr. Ferry may have been picking up on him, as he was wearing my Gap sweater tied around his shoulders.) I applaud you, Mr. New Romantic. You are a breath of fresh air in a dim, smoky pub filled with women who look down their noses at the few happy dancers who don’t really care if what they are doing with their legs, arms and hips is ‘cool’. It’s fun! Who cares!

We didn’t have dessert on Saturday night, so Boogie friend and I saw fit to indulge in chocolate fountain action on Sunday evening. Another tick for the jaw muscle workout. Oh I am so good! This fit nicely into my training plan as we dipped bananas, strawberries, oranges and pineapples in the fountain, with only the occasional pancake or marshmallow! So really, it was healthy. And it made us smile, working those zygomatic muscles.

Three cheers for the chocolate fountain! Hip, hip, hooray!

It took everything I had to move my butt off the lukewarm kitchen radiator this morning. The argument went: the sooner you move and change clothes, the sooner you will get the run done, and the sooner you will be warm. But, I’ve had this problem my whole life. When I am cold, I can’t move. The rational thinker in me knows that movement generates heat. So I should move around a lot when I am cold. It also should help that what I’d be moving to will usually warm me up. In my gallery of childhood memories, I can still hear my mother telling me, as I stood shivering with a towel around me, if I’d just get out of the bathtub and dry off, I’d be a lot warmer. I knew she was right. But, I still couldn’t do it. Sometimes I still have this problem.

Kermit’s right, man. It’s not easy being green. This winter, I’ve been trying so hard not to turn the heater on until the evening when Crunchy husband comes home. (As you can see from the first sentence, this didn’t quite happen today. But it’s off again now.) However, sometimes a sweater or even a jacket doesn’t do the trick. So I try to think of other ways to stay warm (that don’t include snuggling under the warm duvet!). Take a hot shower. Hmmmm…If I’m cold outside the shower but warm inside the shower, chances are it’s going to be a long shower, and waste a lot of water and energy warming the water. So that’s no good. I could stand around the stove warming my hands. But that wastes gas. Go to a shopping center where they’ve got the heat pumped up anyway, so I might as well benefit from it. But, that wastes energy getting there if there’s no other reason for the trip.

So it’s getting easier and easier to motivate myself to get out and run when it’s cold. Or, maybe it’s better to say that I am wasting less time sitting on my bed trying to convince my brain to tell my arms just to take off my semi-warm pajamas and put on my cold running clothes because the sooner I do that the sooner I will be warm again.

Now I am back, and I am nice and toasty. The run felt like it sucked. I was supposed to pick up the pace a bit today, and it kind of hurt in my lungs to push myself out of my comfort zone. I was feeling frustrated about it, even considering the route is hilly. Turns out I wasn’t doing the math quite right in my head as I went along, so I feel a little better. And, it did have the positive effect of generating great amounts of body heat. So I am happy now.

Go for a run! Be warm! Save the environment!

Today’s run

Distance: 3.2 miles
Time: 29:54
Pace: 9:20 min/mile

There is an uplifting silence that falls with snow, a surprising peace. This morning I awoke with bleary eyes to gray skies. I looked out the window expecting it to be dull, dreary, dismal. It’s winter and I live in England, after all. Instead I was greeted by flurries drifting lightly from the heavens. Soft white flakes floating nearly weightlessly toward the earth. It is amazing how this makes you feel as if you should be able to jump up and float as well. To dance and turn slow, graceful pirouettes on air before melting softly into the green grass.

And then I heard the sea gulls squawk. I’m not sure that I have ever been anywhere that snowflakes and sea gulls have co-existed, even for a brief moment. It was an unusual juxtaposition. It sent the whole ballerina reverie spilling flat on its face. Now, the dancer has picked herself up and is running hurriedly away from very persistent dive bombing sea gulls. Apparently, they want to steal her peanut butter and jelly sandwich!

Wow, my blog got 70 views yesterday. Which I am sure in the blogging world is few, but to me it is a lot! (I have a feeling some of these hits were mischief makers sent by Moose to use lots of exclamation points and cause general good-natured mayhem, but maybe not. Or maybe they got too bored when they got here to follow through.)

But to those who came without the sole intention of waving calorie-wasting accusations, thank you! Thank you for your support and thanks to those so far who’ve sponsored me! I’m working hard for your support, I promise! (For those of you who don’t know me, but think supporting me would be a pretty hip thing to do, thank you too.)

I married a man unfamiliar with Digital Underground’s ‘Humpty Dance’. After writing of dance moves you won’t see me attempt out on the open trail, my husband confessed he didn’t know the song that might stir one to breakdance. As far as he knew, it didn’t really cross ‘the pond’. And, of course, being of slightly different ages, he was too mature, too cool even, to have taken any notice anyway. (As opposed to she who enjoys doing ‘Funky Cold Medina’ at karoake night. Trust me, it’s better than hearing me try to actually sing!)

But my husband is lucky to have me. This cultural deficiency has been rectified. Thanks to YouTube, I was able to blast my adolescent middle school past straight into our living room. It’s not PC. It’s a little bit rude n’ crude, as these things go. But, if you don’t take it seriously, it cracks you up. The glasses! The nose! I don’t understand!

After a brief lesson, he’s now hip with the kids. (Or, at least the kids of 1989. You know, the ones who thought Hammer pants were cool.) Tonight, I plan to teach him everything he needs to know about cutting a mean running man and roger rabbit . Then he’ll really be ready to tear up the floor this weekend. Look out Pinner, here we come!

Today’s run

Distance: 4.0 miles

Time: 39:55

Pace: 9:58 min/mile

Okay, it’s cold now. I know last week I said it was relatively warm. It’s not anymore. It’s cold. Not as cold as it could be, but getting pret-ty cold.

Thus, in true wuss fashion, I layered up for my run. Top layer: my new luminous green Rare Species fleece. Very nice! Money well spent, I can tell already. (And a bargain!) Soft, warm and visible. My neck is cozy and warm in the shirt’s insulating collar. Ahhh. Nice!

Today’s plan called for a short run, so I headed out to do my loop through the village. As soon as I got to the bottom of the hill and started along Foxborough Road, the sky started shooting down tiny pellets of snow. Rock on! They didn’t stick. They didn’t even last. They have salted the white cliffs of Dover and are forging on toward the northern part of France at this point, considering how fast the clouds are moving today. But, all the same I got excited at the thought of snow. My head immediately filled with the image of white powder dusting the fields behind my house. It’s too close to Christmas and all the cards depicting sleigh rides through the woods not to romanticize about snow.

But, I don’t like to be cold. I don’t like to be cold and wet. (Unless I am swimming in the ocean and it’s 90 degrees on the beach.) I would have some major adjusting to do if I lived anywhere it snowed. It is possible I only get excited at the hint of snow because I am never in it. There is an extremely good chance I just like the idea of snow. So, it is probably best the ‘snowfall’ I witnessed today ended at the few stones that dropped in the time span of about thirty seconds.

No, an ant would not have had enough snow to build a snowman with what precipitated today. But, it made me smile. Let’s face it, if it had really snowed, I would have been freezing!

Today’s run

Distance: 3.2 miles

Time: 30:58

Pace: 9:40 min/mile

I like to get out there and breathe fresh air. I like to feel my lungs expand and muscles work. I like to work up a sweat. I am alive and my heart is ticking. This is good.

But, I am not sure I would classify myself as a ‘runner’. To give myself a bit of credit, the term is ambiguous. What makes one a ‘runner’? I mean, I am sure I am more of a runner than say, Jade Goody, Britain’s current über-chav, who reportedly fell over screaming ‘I’m dying!’ before getting anywhere near the finish line of last year’s London marathon because she didn’t ‘really understand miles’ and stayed up the night before stuffing herself silly with curry. (Dear God. Please let this witless woman remain captive in her ‘safe house’ until the media have forgotten all about her so we can be free of her drivel.)

But, I also don’t think I am as much of a runner as Paula Radcliffe. In fact, I am fairly sure I am not! Yet, I do know how to tie my shoes to keep my narrow heels from slipping. And how to effectively apply Bodyglide to prevent the evil chafe. So I guess I am somewhere in the middle.

I am an avid supporter of cross-training. Variety, as they say, is the spice of life. Cross-training keeps you from getting bored, and keeps your spirits up for the long training road ahead.

This weekend, cross-training allowed me to make a new friend.

To travel an ancient highway.

And to break out the cookie monster cycling jersey!

Oh yes, I am a fan of cross-training!

Yesterday’s ride

Time: 1:33:00, give or take about 15 minutes for important photographic and toilet stops

My husband was quite chipper, trying to compose a Crunchy ‘Nanas theme song. He tried Crunchy ‘Nanas in pajamas are coming down the stairs. I shook my head and reminded him that wasn’t very original. His next try was a chorus of Smelly ‘nanas, smelly ‘nanas—please stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

Me, I can’t get old school Digital Underground out of my head. My name is Crunchy…I like my oatmeal lumpy. Which is an important reason why the ipod comes with me on my runs. (Safely, of course. Only one ear phone in so I can listen to my surroundings with the other ear.) I can’t have this one line looping itself incessantly in my mind while I beat down the trail! It would drive me nuts. Or worse, it could stir me to breakdance. Which, in itself, wouldn’t be a problem. If I could breakdance. But, I can’t. Which is really a shame. The only caterpillars on the path will be those that turn into butterflies and moths.

[Note: After reviewing my 1980s dance moves, I’ve learned that what I always think of as the Caterpillar is properly known as the Centipede. But, centipedes don’t turn into butterflies. I am a biologist. I know these things. And I like the image and alliteration of breakdancing butterflies. So, I am exercising my creative license and leaving it as is!]