Crunchy ‘Nanas

What do the Duke of Wellington and Harry Potter have in common? Probably not much. But stick with me on this one.

I’ve stuck a fork in my Mizunos. They are done. They served me well, but the time’s come to say good bye and move on. I’ve been emotionally transitioning myself since May when, after calculating mileage, I knew we’d have to part ways soon. I’ve kept my eyes open for the replacement pair. (I was pretty annoyed when I tried on the newest edition of the Wave Rider and found out that Mizuno has made them wider. Ugh! Here we go again!) Over the past months and trips to various shoe stores, the clear winner has stood out to be the Asics Gel-Nimbus, but you don’t drop £100 without thinking it over.

But it was time. We made our way to the Sweatshop so I could try on shoes. Again. In case you’re just tuning in, I’ve got the world’s most difficult feet to shop for. They are a bit high maintenance and most shoes are not very accommodating. They are long and narrow, yet I like to have room in my toe box because of my lovely hammer toes (thanks mom!). But, not too much room because then my feet slide around and I get blisters. It’s a very tricky balance to achieve. After trying three or four other candidates, the Gel-Nimbus pair still seemed like the shoes for me. I finally committed. (And an hour later found the £15 coupon for Sweatshop in the latest Runner’s World. Sometimes you just can’t win.)

So far, my new Harry Potter shoes seem to be all right. (Yes, I know Asics meant it to be a cloud reference, but I don’t care.) I took them for a quick spin around the block today, and they were pretty comfy. They didn’t launch me 50 feet into the air and zoom me around the village after a golden snitch, but maybe I didn’t say the magic words right. They did, however, make me feel bouncy, which I am sure has more to do with my mental state and less to do with the shoes on my feet, but I am okay with that.

And just wait! My new tenny-runners weren’t the only shoes to walk their way home this weekend.

While in Paris last week, we ventured into Aigle. I spotted the hottest wellies I’ve ever seen. There was a pair covered with daisies. And some red stripey ones. And ones with stones all over them. But, they were mucho money. (Duh, Aigle.) I passed on a purchase. It was hard though. Usually the ones I see over here are of the drab black-green variety and in the gray, gloomy winter, I need color.

But then, with a stroke of luck, Crunchy husband alerted me to the (much, much cheaper) stock at B&Q. I bet the ol’ duke didn’t have any boots as slick as this:

So there’s your connection: shoes. Or, more specifically, my new shoes. I like them. They make me want to run and play in the mud.

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Now playing: Paolo Nutini - New Shoes
via FoxyTunes

The nip has returned. It is subtle, but detectable. The sun is out, but there is a hint of autumn in the air and in the trees. It is being decent, I have to give it that. It’s not taunting me for blinking during summer’s brief appearance. (I’m still waiting hopefully for summer, in terms of a season and not a week. I think it’s going to be a long wait, like 10 months. Or more.) In fact, they are saying it’s going to be 24 C today. But, I think fall is pretty much ready to barge down the door and stay for dinner. We’re having pasta.

But, I am not sad. Why? Why you ask? What could possibly keep the smile on my face as cooler weather creeps into my life? Cheap airfare and tickets in hand. I’m going home!! Okay, not today, not tomorrow, not even next month. But the month after that. AND the month after that.

I will be staying in California for much longer than the last visit. I learned my lesson in May. Five days? Not enough time. (If you’re reading this, thinking, “um, you were home in May?” please be assured that I am still wracked with guilt about not being able to see everyone I missed on the last brief touchdown and am looking forward to seeing you this fall!)

And in one more sign that I have definitely caught the bug, the first thing I did (after calling my parents to let them know, and eating dinner, and emailing some friends, and sleeping, and eating breakfast the next morning, but the first thing I did after all that!) was check active for runs in California in November. Now, what better way to celebrate World Run Day than to go down to Monterey for the Big Sur half marathon? I’ve never done it, and I thought for sure it would be full by now, but it’s not (the website says the half is 71% full). And I hear it calling to me, singing across the United States, breast-stroking across the Atlantic and surfing up the Channel, persuading, “come run me!”

I think I should abide its wishes. Anyone else?

I think officially somewhere it says that the August Bank Holiday is the end to summer in England. Well, thank goodness the sun came out for it! Yippee!

Friday afternoon we eco-ran down in Cliff’s End/Pegwell again. We adventured a bit with our return route and came to a dead-end at the disused hover port, but I guess it just meant more training! Yippee!

Without planning it, I did a reverse (mini) triathlon on Saturday. 3k run to calibrate my footpod (finally! When I ordered my heart monitor with footpod, I didn’t realize it would be so hard to find an average American high school with a running track to calibrate the footpod. Silly me. This is England. They don’t have tracks here. Or, if they do they are very well hidden. I needed a room of requirement!) Then a 22k ride to Ramsgate to test my new Italian.

And then I went all out for my open water swim. It was, well, more like an open water float with a paddle and kick or two while relaxing on the inner-tube. (I brought the goggles along for dramatic effect.) I’ve never inner-tubed in the ocean. It was just like Lake Tahoe, only you didn’t have to wait for motor boats to zoom by to get waves. And I don’t believe as cold. It was great. Yippee!

And then Monday we ran from Minnis Bay to Reculver. The sun was shining, but there was a bit of a breeze. Crunchy husband hit a new milestone. He’s never run 7 miles (all at once) before. He did very well. I think it was the cheer from the Ipswich Town fan riding by on his bicycle that kept him going. Or the back wind in the fifth mile. Or the ice cream stand at the finish. Three cheers for Crunchy husband. Yippee!

I am in love with an Italian. It isn’t the first time this has happened. First, there was a pair called Sidi. I took them home and never looked back. Then there was the affair with the borrowed bike called Bianchi. Everything was right about it, it felt perfect and I almost let it into my life completely, except for the issue of its one short-coming. I like to think I am not shallow. But, I was advised (by a Brit), go triple or go home. (Yes, I am a weakling.) So after my second of two tris in the summer of 2003, we parted. I am still a bit heart-broken.

But, today! Today I found a new amore. I took my new sella italia saddle on its inaugural ride. And let me tell you, that puppy knows how to support me and cushion my bony butt in all the right places. I felt a bit guilty leaving my Terry behind on the mountain bike, but I am convinced it was the right thing to do.

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza-pie…

Until last night, I hadn’t run in the dark for nearly ten years. On that occasion, my college roommate and I decided to run from West Davis to get ice cream. It was one of those runs instigated by a need not to study and was way harder on the way back, from all the ice cream and knowing that o-chem would be waiting for me when I got back.

Yesterday, I stumbled upon a blog post over at Habang Tumatakbo inviting people to come out for a virtual run. I’ve tried the virtual thing in the past, but I think both of us must admit, we didn’t try very hard. (Maybe we should try harder, Moosey?)  

I had already done my exercising for the day, but the spirit captured me and spurred me to voice my enthusiasm. Plus, they were lacking a European component, so I figured I’d help out. The run was set for 1:30 pm PST, 9:30 pm here, so my participation was contingent on Crunchy husband’s company.  

He wasn’t too impressed at the idea of a run at 9:30 pm. “Come on! We’ll get to use our tour de France reflective arm bands. And I can put on my headlamp and it’ll be fun!” I’m not sure if it was the prospect of glowing in the dark or the thought of having to take me to the hospital when I told him my fall back plan was jumproping in the backyard in the dark if I couldn’t get him to go with me, but he acquiesed.

It was so calm. Yesterday’s rain had eased, and the wind had blown itself away. The air smelled fresh and serene. It was warmer than I expected it to be. We only ran a couple miles around the village, but it was worth it. It’s neat to think that you are “doing something together” with people stretched across the world. That you’re running up and down hills in sleeping England while at the same time others are running on the beaches in the sunshine in California or in the early morning hours in the Phillipines.  

And I only had to push Crunchy husband twice when we passed the pubs, the second of which was showing the England v. Germany game. What a sport!

Sometimes I think England feels like it needs to live up to its reputation as dreary, rainy, and gray. I keep telling it not to feel so much pressure. If it wants the sun to shine, it’s okay. But it is pretty insistent to maintain its drizzly world image.

I was psyched to go running this morning. I was organized and on top of things. It was cloudy, yes, but it would be all right. I threw some stuff into the back of the car and then went back into the house for a quick bathroom stop. Apparently the time was ripe for the clouds to take a pit stop too. When I got back outside it was pouring. But, I thought, hey, it’ll pass. Let’s go out to Minnis Bay anyway. I’ve got a schedule to keep.

It didn’t pass. I sat at my run start for a few minutes waiting, willing the torrents to subside. I don’t mind running in the rain, but this was RAIN. Struggling with the thoughts in my head (the devil sneering, “ha, ha you’re gonna have to run 7 miles on the treadmill today,” the realist knowing I would make it only a half a mile before utter boredom struck and I chucked it in for the snack bar), I finally gave in and resigned myself to the gym. I turned the key in the ignition and the solution hit me. I didn’t have my towel. I can’t use equipment at the gym without my towel. That would just be rude and inconsiderate. So I decided to have lunch and then give the Minnis Bay to Reculver Towers another try.

So in take two, something weird happened. I felt like I was living the movie “Groundhog Day”. I got into the car and it was the same song that was on the radio when I drove out the first time: the Kooks, “She Moves in Her Own Way”. And then the next song came on. Halfway through “You and Your Hand,” the signal died. And when it came back on, it was the Kooks. And then it was Pink. And then I got stuck behind a silver sedan double parking at the exact same spot it happened to me on the first trip to the sea.

However, the movie ended when I got to Minnis. It had stopped raining, the kite surfers were out, and you could even see the towers (my turn around destination) in the distance. And it was an awesome run. Take that treadmill! [Karate chops the air for added effect.] I planned to eco-run on the way back, but there was NO TRASH! (Or, no trash within reasonable collecting reach. I don’t do steep, crazy ditches and the beach is well, too big to tackle with just one bag.) It was really nice to see the path clean!

[Note: yes, I realize I did yoga this morning. I meant to post this last night!]

In running literature, you will find no shortage of chafing horror stories. You’ve got your nipple chafing and rubbing between the thighs and other extremely sensitive and inconvenient places. You’ve got your first chafe experiences and long-term struggles against friction and its after-effects.

I am not sure where my story falls. I am hoping it doesn’t fall into the “um, I’ve never heard of that. How on earth did you manage that one?” genre. But on this, I am not optimistic.

Yesterday, after our soggy 6 mile run, which we completed nearly quicker than our 5 mile run in France last weekend!, I hopped into the shower. As one who is smelly and waterlogged from running during the “summer” in England is eager to do, I jumped right in. And do you want to know the first thought in my head as I ducked myself under the stream of steamy water? Well, it was this: Oh my god, what IS that? Someone must have slipped me something and tried to convince me to break my no unnatural holes policy.

I looked down and not only was my tummy hole-free, just as it’s been my whole life, but there was no redness, no scratch, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I continued on with the scrubbing and singing.

Today, it clicked. I bent over for further investigation. The inside, inside!, of my belly button had chafed on our run. Now, I don’t have a complete innie, but I don’t have a total outie either. I am more of an innie-outie kind of girl. But, apparently outie enough.

Lesson learned: when the forecast calls for rain, I’m rubbing myself head to toe with Bodyglide. Just in case. You never know where the chafe’s gonna strike.

“I have never done a 10k or 12k race.”

“Whatever, liar! Sure you have. Haven’t you?”

“Nope.”

“Bay to Breakers?” No. “Bridge to Bridge?” No. “Wharf to Wharf?” No. “Anything to anything?”

“Nope. I’ve done the Run for the Seals, the Tree-athlon, and the run in Dublin.”

So, as you can see, we have firmly established that the upcoming Paris-Versailles 10-miler is the longest race Crunchy husband has ever trained for. So three cheers for Crunchy husband! He is very determined. He did very well on the ups and downs of last Sunday’s 5 mile run through various sleeping villages in Normandy. (The guys standing at our finish were a bit puzzled at why we kept running tiny laps around the panorama de la Seine, but we reached our destination 200 yards shy of our 5 mile goal, and when we say 5 miles, we mean 5 miles.)

It was a good run. Freddy the French cat’s owner threw in some hills to give us a good workout. I think we are on our way to being okay for the race at the end of September. Plus, we got to say “Bonjour!” to the few people out walking their dogs. Which I totally got a kick out of, for some reason. Have I mentioned I am inclined toward simple pleasures? However, I think I need to learn some calming phrases for the crazy loner dogs that stand motionless in the middle of the road staring at you until right as you start to pass them, and then they bark and salivate like they’ve been kept starving and you’re the first “food” they’ve seen in two years.

I hate dogs off leashes. Or, I hate unpredictable dogs that look as if they’d love to rip the flesh from your calves and gnaw at your tibia while you struggle on the ground, racking your brains for the French for “help! help! I’m a good person and I’m being eaten alive by Lassie” off leashes. (I also am not a big fan of dogs off leashes on cycle paths. But that’s another story.)

I offer, as evidence that we made it past crazy loner dog in the middle of the road, this photo showing all calves and limbs intact. And smiles! We smile when we run! Hooray!

The August 2007 edition of Runner’s World lists 101 reasons to run, a collection of motivations to keep you going when you’d really rather sit at home and watch tv. Or blog, as the case may be. My favorites are number 1, “start a blog” (for accountability reasons as well as a place to log the thoughts and internal discoveries you wish to share with the rest of the blogosphere); number 58, “run for a reason” (there’s a huge feeling of satisfaction when you know you are pushing yourself to the limits for a worthy cause); and number 69, “If you don’t run road races, where will you get all your T-shirts?” (so true! I still wear my Bridge to Bridge t-shirt from 1999. It’s a bit holey but I’m not out for glamor).

However, interestingly, my personal top motivation was not listed, even though I know it is a powerful motivator for many runners. Simply put, I run because I know it makes me feel good. Not on a superficial, get-rich-quick kind of level. I am not sure I experience the “runner’s high” and I’ve had plenty of runs that made my toes, heels and knees ache and cry foul for days afterwards. I’ve spent many a-day on the paths with only five words rattling around in my brain: “why am I doing this?”. But over the past 6 months I’ve tried to stay more focused on what I am feeling. I’ve learned, in the grand scheme of things, that if I remain active over the long haul I feel happier and more content in all aspects of my life. (And I enjoy my runs more!)

I’ve struggled over the past few years to find contentment in my life. It’s no exaggeration to say I’ve had issues. Some real, some imagined, some fairly public, others extremely private. But, all similar in that they stomp uninvited into my mind, set up camp and cloud my ability to keep a balanced and reasonable perspective. But 2007 has been good, better. Not perfect, but definitely healthy. I think in many ways it’s been about learning to respect myself. Learning to push myself, but also to listen to what my body is telling me. And to cut me some slack sometimes. I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m feeling positive. It’s a refreshing feeling!

I’ve always harbored a secret desire to be one of the screamers on a live album. And now, I believe, my wish has come true. I got my recording from Peter Gabriel at Hyde Park, and I swear to you, I hear me. For real. The one yelling “Steeeaaaaammmm!” a fraction of a second before everyone else? That’s totally me. (I’m fast, really fast! And loud, really loud!) And during the pause in Family Snapshot? Me too. I swear to you. I know my concert scream. And I hear it. You’re skeptical, I can tell. But, it’s not hard to believe. Did I mention we were standing second row? BA-BY! (The proof is on Tony Levin’s website. You can see us best in the eleventh picture down, just behind the girl playing with her camera near the yellow rain jacket on the rail.) So, I think it’s very possible I hear me. And yeah, I’ll admit it, I sound good.

Rock and roll! Ah, another one of life’s goals ticked off the list.

In other exciting news, I officially registered myself and Crunchy husband for the Paris-Versailles 2007. So we are finally in training for something, as opposed to in training for something obscure and undetermined. We’ve been warned about the hill to Versailles, but how can you pass up the opportunity to start a run under the Eiffel Tower? Freddy the French Cat’s owner nearly joined Team Crunchy ‘Nanas in this 10 mile endeavor, but dodged this year’s run right before registrations went in by conveniently remembering he has tickets to go watch his Welshmen group hug and bite each other’s ears off in Nantes. Lucky escape, if you ask me.

There was way less trash on the path than I expected on my run today from Minnis Bay to Reculver. (I kept to the path. There is no way I could collect all the trash washed up on the beach.) Most people just kind of stared at me as I ran by, but one man yelled “hey, what about all this over here?” as he rode past me on his bike. He seemed jovial and friendly, so I will give him the benefit of the doubt and take that as thanks rather than him “taking the piss”. The run felt really good, which is to be expected since it is flat and I’ve been running hills mostly and today is a beautiful day. I ran regular tempo on the way out and eco-run tempo on the way back. I’m getting slightly better at grabbing trash without breaking my running motion, but I still need to slow/stop sometimes.

And then there’s the fact that summer has decided to grace England with its presence. There are many who still do not have clean water supplies to their homes, but at least (for now) the rains seem to have eased. I hope it gives it a chance for things to dry out a bit and allows people to go back to their homes.

And in final news that may be good or may be not so good, I will know by tomorrow I think, I’ve taken a bold step and submitted some coastal photography into a local art exhibition. Please keep your fingers crossed on something making the cut. It could go either way.