I told the guy I just wanted a trim, because “I need to be able to pull it back into a ponytail.” Translation: I am way too lazy to put any effort whatsoever into my hair, especially during the summer. He asked if I wanted a blow-dry, and I was all, “Um, sure. Whatever.” Dang NYC salons, charging extra for a blow-dry. But I didn’t have anywhere to be, so why not?
“You always wear it straight?” he asked me.
“Yeah, pretty much,” I kindly responded.
“Oh, please, you let me blow dry it big for you?! Let me do something fun for you! It’s Friday night, you go out, you go dancing, you have big hair!”
I mean, how could I say no to that kind of enthusiasm?
And so he blow dried.
This is about as big as my hair gets. And with two self-portraits in this post, we are now through. I apologize. Sort of.
And then, my big hair and I had a wild and crazy Friday night!
This is how I "read" at night.
I went to bed late with a 5 AM alarm set. I wanted to get my Saturday run done early so I could either head out of town or be in town and make it to a 9:30 breakfast on time.
I ate some cereal.
I went to the bathroom a bunch of times.
I charged up the ol’ Garmin.
And I headed for Central Park.
I knew I didn’t want to run more than 10 miles. I’m trying to up my mileage slowly leading up to marathon training, but I don’t want to jump it too much too soon because, you know, that’s how stuff breaks, and I’d really like to avoid that.
So I figured 10-ish miles, slower than marathon goal pace (8:45-ish), running whatever route my legs were feeling.
The first mile felt a little creaky, and I didn’t really have high hopes for the run. I didn’t have low ones, either. I really don’t think I thought too much about this one single run before it actually happened. It was humid and there was some excitement in the park as basically all of NYC’s lady runners warmed up for the Mini 10K race that was starting at 8:00.
I ran on the roads. I ran on the Bridle Path. I ran up on the Reservoir. I ran with music for the first time in a month, and I just ran. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t look at my watch. I ran and I smiled and I felt good.
And then I had run 10 miles.
It was over. And it was good.
I am very happy with these.
I wanted to keep going, but knew not to. There will be plenty of longer runs in my very near future.
I’m pretty psyched about my splits. I know that if my marathon goal pace is 8:45, then I should be doing my long runs at a slower pace, around 9:15s. But I’m not marathon training yet. I’m just running and, despite the fact that I can manage to write 1,000 words about a single, uneventful run, I am actually trying not to over-think my runs, at least in the midst of them.
It was nice to finally have a run that felt easy. Since taking a little time off and getting back into things, I’ve found running to be particularly challenging. For weeks I was out of breath at the top of every teeny tiny hill (or, you know, speed bump) and my “normal” paces required far more effort than they used to. I love that this run came so naturally to me. Things just fell into place.
Bonus: Other than three (ugh) bathroom stops, I didn’t stop at all during this run. Lately I’ve been going pretty easy on myself and allowing little “breaks” at the tops of hills when I feel particularly tired. (Yes, I know this does not bode well for “training.” Leave me alone.) But not this time! I just kept on running.
So while this run wasn’t my longest or my fastest, it was the best, most encouraging one I’ve had in a while.
I rode my little runner’s high straight through the weekend.
Brian was out of town this weekend, so I enjoyed some quality Ali time. Ali time means a lot of walking around the city, a little sale shopping and pantsless afternoon couch naps.
On Saturday night I went to a wine and cheese fiesta at Sofia’s apartment.
Wine and cheese, but also vegetables and meat.
Do you know what’s stressful? Going to a party with a bunch of sophisticated food people and having to bring something. I made salsa (pico de gallo, I was told later), which was a great idea since I cook nothing and Sofia won a salsa-making competition last year.
If it's colorful, it must taste good, right? The recipe is "some tomato, some onion, some mango, some garlic, some cilantro, some lime juice, some salt and also some pepper. Chop. Mix. Eat." I know that it's complicated, but you can probably do it. Ali On The Food Blog.
It tasted good enough. People ate it. Sofia was cool about it.
This is Gian. He's like, "Ali, I'm going to eat your pico de salsa because it will fuel my 4:50 miles. Also, Ali, Meb called, and he wants to hang out. We are besties, and you can run with us anytime. Just kidding. HAHA. Your salsa sucks."
Sunday kicked off with a few leisurely “shakeout miles,” which was again encouraging. After running 10 miles and drinking the same number of wines the day before, I was happy I still felt alive. My legs weren’t dead. I was happy.
So happy, in fact, that I went grocery shopping and cooked myself a fancy little breakfast.
Little known fact: Until yesterday, I had never made scrambled eggs.
Turns out, my scrambling skills could use some work. The eggs were all broken up and choppy. I told Brian about this, and he says I was probably a little aggressive when it came to “moving the eggs around in the pan.” I welcome constructive criticism in this area.
But my breakfast was awesome: a sprouted wheat English muffin with some scrambled egg, tomato and spinach. And salt and pepper. Always salt and pepper.
Oh that is a masterpiece. That is beautiful. So elegant. Someone get me a Michelin Star.
In other words, over the weekend I became a food blogger. I know how excited you are about my masterful recipes, and you are welcome for sharing them.
I then spent three hours walking around the city. I love it here. I’m so happy I’m feeling better and I’m able to run and life is good.
To me, NYC, you are lovely.
My weekend wrapped up with Brian returning to our humble apartment — were you worried he might not come back? I was, a little bit. I was sort of cranky last week, so you never know. Sometimes people run away.
But he came back and we had what he will call a “having a few people over for dinner” and what I will call “A Sparkly Tony Awards Jazz Hands Party.” Agree to disagree.
Brian made giant tuna steaks for dinner. They were awesome. Maybe I'll let him write a guest post on my new food blog.
I went to bed last night with a wicked full stomach and many happy thoughts.
And a Stick.
And compression socks.
My feet are so slender, I know! Do these socks give me cankles? Crap.
It was a crowded bed, I guess.
To everyone who said “running will come back eventually,” thank you for your encouragement. I didn’t believe you for a little while, but you were right! Good job! I hope the “easy” runs continue and I keep feeling good.
I didn’t run this morning — I went for my first solo bike ride, which was great because I got to go really slow and didn’t have to try and keep up with Brian on his “recovery day!” — and I’m already excited to get back out running, probably tomorrow.
SHARE YOUR GOOD TIMES: It’s been a while since we caught up. Share your weekend highlights! A great race with a PR? A fun getaway? A party with “foodies” where you brought something mediocre that everyone swore was “really good” just to be nice? Tell me all about it. Let’s be best friends.