How to survive a hurricane like a toddler.

Most of you know I work in politics.  And all of you know that Hurricane Sandy hit the East Coast pretty hard yesterday.  DC was lucky and I'm so thankful that I kept power and kept dry for the last 24 hours.

However, being that the election doesn't stop for 'a little rain,' I worked all weekend - and yesterday, and today and 7 days a week for the last 6 months.  So, what I'm trying to say is I haven't had a lot of time to go to the grocery store.  In fact, what I found out last night is that my cabinets consist of only Cheerios (no milk), Pasta (no sauce) and a lot of expired canned goods.  I also found some really moldy yams in my refrigerator crisper.  I don't even want to talk about that.

So what did I do last night when I got home from work, hungry for dinner and not a restaurant delivering or open for miles?  I survived the Frankenstorm like a toddler - munching on dry Cheerios and pasta with butter.  In fact - when I woke up this morning, it was the first time in months that I thought, "I can't WAIT to get to work....And order some lunch."

And that, my friends, is how to survive a hurricane as a baby adult, which I still kind of consider myself to be, considering I can't even get to the grocery while CNN is predicting the end of the world.

In Conclusion...

Here it is.  Week 61.  And so concludes (less than) 60 hikes in 60 weeks.  I'm ready to recap, and make excuses for, the last 60 weeks of my life.

I just tallied and I have completed:

19 hikes.
2 Guest Hikes (thanks April and Matt)
8 Races (from 5k to 10 miles)
A slew of museums, events and sights to see in the DMV.

Seems kind of anti-climactic, am I right?  I definitely thought I'd done like, 35 hikes...  But I've also survived an earthquake, a hurricane, an apartment fire, bike theft and car theft.  Oh, and election season...I'm surviving election season.  Frankly, 60 hikes in 60 weeks was a bit unrealistic to begin with because winter happened - which took up 3 months, and work happened - which has been occupying my last 4 months of weekends pretty solidly.  Every other year, I lose summer and fall.  It's sad, really.

And another excuse?  I started out hiking and walking, but ultimately a lot of my hiking weekends were replaced with runs and races, and I'm pretty proud of that!

Other things to report...

Though it was a major goal of this blog, I didn't lose any weight and my calves have grown two pant sizes.  I did however go from running a 12 minute mile to a 10 minute mile - so there's the silver lining.  I'm basically all muscle.

I kind of just lied because I only run a 10 minute mile if the distance is 6 miles or less and if I was running two months ago.  That whole thing about work has really cut into my running, as well as my hiking.  Also, I'm not all muscle. I'm all calves - I thought we established that?

So, What is the future of le Blog, you ask?  Fret not, little hikers.  It turns out I kind of like nature (not to be confused with liking bugs or sleeping on the ground) so I think I'll stick to the hiking and the running and adventuring as hobbies.  But, I'm also thinking I'll try to write more about whatever strikes my fancy and see what happens, so you'll see some changes in the weeks to come.  Most likely, you won't hear from me again at all until after November 6.  But Thanksgiving through Christmas is going to be a really exciting few weeks, with trips to San Francisco and Georgia in the works.

Special thanks to my guest hikers of course, and to the people who laughed at my mishap-fraught life along the way.

And that's it.  The sixty's survey...I accomplished less than a third of the goal I set for myself.  Which I'm NOT going to take as a metaphor for my life or anything.

Questioning My Moral Integrity

Last Sunday, I completed my first ten mile race!  I've been wanting to up the ante as far as my race mileage is concerned and Revenge of the Penguins was a low-key way to do that.  I've been horribly inconsistent in my workouts over the last 2 months, but that didn't keep me from getting to the finish line.  If I'm being honest with myself, and you, I'd say I jogged about 7 miles and walked the other 3, finishing in 2:10:47.  But also, if I'm to trust my Nike Plus running app, the course was actually 10.7 miles.  That's a serious discrepancy, and obviously I'll be trusting the one that says I ran 'almost 11' because it makes me look more hard-core.

I 'placed' 97th out of 104 runners.  By the time I crossed the finish, I would have sworn I finished dead last (which I feel would have made this a funnier story).  There wasn't a runner with a bib on for miles in either direction.  My very supportive running buddy, who finished far ahead of me, tried to assure me that there were still plenty of runners behind me.  All I could think was, "Yeah, the people who are doing 20 miles..."

Now we have to talk about something serious.  In upping said ante, I may or may not have contributed to terrorism.  When I registered for this very small, local race, the registration was through a parent website called Marathon Charity Cooperation.  On top of that, the race was called Revenge of the Penguins 10-Miler and 20-Miler.  What does that even mean?  There were no further details and I didn't think much about it at the time.  Well.  There I am Sunday, just jogging my little jog, and at Mile 1 there was a sign that said "Iqraa! Run for a brighter Palestine!"  And that's when I realized - Was my $30.00 registration fee possibly funneled to Hamas?  Am I presently pal-ing around with terrorists?  Is pal-ing a word? Oh my GOD!

At that point I couldn't change anything, so I continued running.  Running for a brighter Palestine.  And I hope my Jewish friends will forgive me.  But they weren't exactly offering refunds.

I AM THE MUFFIN TOPPER!

It's been brought to my attention that my good friend and graphics artist sent this email to his entire company just 2 months ago.

Guess what?  

I AM THE MUFFIN TOPPER!

Sorry I'm not sorry.

Atlas

H Street NE (or The Atlas District) is kind of the next up and coming area in DC.  Rejuvenating (and what some call, gentrifying) the area has been in full swing for the last few years.  It's now got great pubs, restaurants, the Biergarten, tons of art and hipsters - and the only thing IMO from really stunting it's full potential is the fact that it's impossible to get to (and home from).  If I had a dollar for every time someone said, "Oh, they're building a trolley that goes out there..." I'd be a much wealthier woman, and safer having not waited 30 minutes at 2 AM looking for a cab.  This has been in the works since 2009. Said Streetcar is apparently opening up in 2013. But I'll believe that when I see it.  

Luckily, I have my trusty bicycle to get wherever my heart desires. So Saturday, I was pedaling to the H Street Festival - complete with food trucks, music, art exhibits and other local staples.  Some girlfriends of mine who live in the neighborhood met up with me as well.  They said this was the first year that the festival was so huge.  By 2:30 pm, it was wall to wall people and practically impossible to walk around.  They even lamented that it reeked of Eastern Market - that the festival had traditionally been just H Street fare and not just a new location for the Market one weekend.  I think that if I frequented Eastern Market as often as I'd like, I'd have had the same complaint.  It's nice to go somewhere that feels unique and not attend an event that has literally transplanted one section of DC into another.  H Street has enough unique-ities to offer that with everything extra, the festival wound up being overwhelming, similar to being in a crowded bar - except redeeming itself that it was outdoors on one of the most beautiful days DC has seen in months.

Here's a little recap:
I ate at two food trucks, the Lobster Truck and Dangerously Delicious Pies.  The Lobster Truck is a favorite of mine, great lobster on a yummy roll.  The only complaint is it's like, a 4 inch roll.  It's the measliest 15 dollar sandwich you've ever seen in your life.  But sometimes, I like to treat myself to things absurdly priced if only to remind myself that I'm part of the privileged elite who live in a metropolitan area (like, my rent comes to mind...).  I justified my pie craving by the fact that I ate a doll-sized sandwich and meandered over to the DC staple, Dangerously Delicious Pies.  I've been dying to try this place because people are always gabbing about it.  And, well...my chocolate peanut butter pie, I dare say was just dangerously dry.  7 dollars for a slice of dry chocolate pie was another chance for me to say, "Whatever, who else can say they ate pie out of a fancy truck? I am seriously lucky. And awesome."

I feel like I'm complaining now, when actually I had a great time, and would definitely recommend these neighborhood festivals to any resident or tourist.  But go early, because the crowds get crazy and bring a wad of cash to just throw at somewhat mediocre food.  I got there around 1:30 and it was much more pleasant than when my friends showed up around 3.  Pictures below!

H Street NE now has it's own historical 'Heritage Trail' DC walk.  

I think there's about 13 different historical trails through DC neighborhoods. My apartment building is actually along the U Street route.

Art.  

I didn't write anything here, lest my ideal city be tainted by 

'California' and 'More Vegans.' 

Shudder.

Art of every bar and restaurant sign from H

Toki Underground Book Exchange.

This bar/restaurant converted itself into a bookstore for the daylight hours.

Lobster Truck!

Banana Car. I don't know why this exists.

We're in the same order here as the Banana car. That was unintentional.

Green Light, Green Lane

Hi guys. It's been a while. But rest assured, if my plans of world domination and a couple of days off in the next two weeks are realized, I have some exciting events to attend in DC and share with you.

Like:

 The H Street Festival, DC Fashion Week, a video game art exhibit, and my fave event of the year: The National Book Festival!

In the meantime, check THIS out!  One small step for bikes...

Sometimes, I'm riding my bike and I'm all, "WHOA..where'd my bike lane go?!" or, "WHOA..This is NOT a turn lane, DUDE!"

Constify bike lanes, DC! CONSISTIFY!

Check out GreenLaneProject.org for more deets!

Walk It Off

This is what I do. I fall. So on my run this morning, I fell. 

 And after 4 hours on a plane, I'm gimpy. Sad face.

Pope-Leighey House

On the second day of Girls Weekend 2012, Mom, Mrs. Fish and I ventured out to Alexandria, VA to see the Pope-Leighey House - a Frank Lloyd Wright designed, Usonian home.  I don't want to act like a Usonian expert or anything because most of my FLW knowledge stems from the fictional Howard Rourke and what the nice tour guide told us last Saturday.  I will only recommend that you drive the half hour out to Virginia to see it for yourself.  I will also recommend that you read The Fountainhead, but that's mostly unrelated.

I thought the house was incredible - though I'm not super down with the ug furniture, or the fact that you can never change it.  But the windows, the built-in bookshelves and the screws that are all horizontal were really beautiful touches.  Pope-Leighey is one of the smaller Usonian homes - built for the 'average American' with a budget that started around $5,000.  This got me thinking: About ten years later (hm, give or take), Levitt homes would be sold for just under $8,000 and they would open up suburban living and make homeownership an integral part of the American Dream.  Wright totally had 10 years on William Levitt and was more of a pioneer than I had previously realized.  Also - none of that Levitt stuff was on the tour.  I'm just that smart.  You're welcome.

So now, I'd be really interested in seeing a Wright home at a grander scale - aka - who wants to drive four hours with me to see Fallingwater?  Car must have radio and ac/heat, so Matt is disqualified from this adventure.  I'm now accepting applications.

Below are some pictures of the exterior of Pope-Leighey.  For some reason, the historic society doesn't allow pictures of the interior.  Google it.

The Billy Goat Trail

I have a tendency to say I've done things when I haven't.  Not like I'm a liar, but I generally don't ask for clarification on things so I'm just like, "Yeah, I know, me too."  But then I'll find out months later "Oooooh, those are Cherry Blossoms...Why didn't you tell me that?"  And the Billy Goat Trail is no different.  Many people in the last year have asked me if I've done the Billy Goat Trail out at Great Falls.  Well, I have been to Great Falls and hiked it.  Twice.  So I was just all, "Yaaaa, I looooove the Billy Goat Trail."  It turns out though, that until last Friday, I didn't even know what state the Billy Goat Trail was in, let alone hiked it.  Who knew.

So with Le Mom and Mrs. Fish visiting last Friday, I decided they should take me on a hike since this blog hasn't seen one in a while (and that's kind of the point).  I have only been to the Virginia side of Great Falls, so I thought I'd bring Mom and Dara to the Maryland side of the park, and guess what?  That's where the Billy Goat Trail is.  And guess what?  The Billy Goat Trail is way hard.  It's just rocks. With some blue paint on some rocks.  Beckoning you to get closer to the edge and fall off.  When we passed a sign that said "Danger: People Die Here" and had only the Falls to our right, I pulled the plug and turned us back.  I wouldn't wish the Billy Goat Trail on my worst enemies.  And it was certainly a little too intense for me.

Gross.

Me. Le Mom. Mrs. Fish.

C&O Canal Towpath

As soon as it said "jumps across open areas" Mrs. Fish and I were like, No.

Here lies Billy.  

He fell into the water trying to jump across open areas.

Then, since I'm pretty sure my luck is hereditary, our car broke down.  Kind of.  Pulling out of the parking spot, Claudia's finely tuned ears heard something dragging under our car.  She pulled back in and slid underneath to find the air dam hanging off of the undercarriage.  These are all car words I'm unfamiliar with - so apologies if I'm using them incorrectly.  Claudia, being a super-badass-mom, slid under the car with some borrowed pliers (on loan from the man in the car next to us, who did NOT offer to aid three stranded ladies), ripped off the rest of the air dam and got us to the nearest Ford dealership...because Said Man told us the car would explode (or overheat, whatever) without the particular part we just ripped off.  Thanks guy.  Your commentary was priceless and actually, completely incorrect.  Once Mom saved the day, I returned the pliers.  And smiling, I told Said Man, "Thank you, sir.  Be sure you check out the Billy Goat Trail."

A new trail

Last weekend, I went on a 4 mile run around Glover Park and Georgetown.  About a mile and a half of it was through a trail in the Glover Archbold Park.  Eh...there's not much to say other than I wore the wrong running shoes.  Minimalist shoes didn't really work for the unpaved, rocky trail.  Trail running is actually pretty cool - the terrain is soft and as long as I looked out for tree roots and rocks, it was nice to be under the shade of the trees.

So, this blog needed a new hike - and here it is - a hike/run; 1.5 miles through the park pictured below.

You should see the tree

Last night, I walked into a low hanging tree branch.

I can't make this up.

Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?

GUYS.  This:

HAS ME SO EXCITED!!

I fancy myself a Wizard of Oz enthusiast.  And if you saw the dusty boxes of collector's items I had as a child, you'd probably agree, and then you'd wonder how I turned out so normal.  And if you're thinking that I'm not actually normal, one of the reasons that would be is the abnormal amount of Oz paraphernalia my parents indulged me with as a youngster.  Porcelain dolls, collector's plates, Christmas tree ornaments, fridge magnets - at my pre-school, I even met the Coroner Munchkin.  I'm kind of a horse of a different color.  

This guy.  I'm serious.

When a new rendition of Oz comes out, I do my research and am generally on board.  I love Wicked, the musical, but I was mostly annoyed with Gregory Maguire's excuse for a novel, because seriously, I don't want to hear the Wicked Witch's story.  She's bad, Dorothy is good, let's not overthink this - Capisce?  Also, that man built an entire career out of 'alternative fairy tales' and, I think that's weird.  Just saying.  Otherwise, I'm completely obsessed with the Wizard of Oz.  I realize the musical is based on the novel - but the musical is just better.

So without further ado - let me tell you why this movie, a prequel focused on The Great and Powerful himself, has me overjoyed and somewhat skeptical.  I'm in a hot-air balloon of emotion.

This movie will be awesome because:
1.  James Franco.  He is amazing despite agreeing to co-host the Oscars with the mushy Anne Hathaway (Strike 1) and then showing up high to do so (Allegedly.  Is that a strike? You be the judge).

2.  The movie begins in black and white and becomes color when the Wiz is over the rainbow.  It's the perfect homage to the original film.

3.  It will not star Johnny Depp.  Can we breathe a collective sigh of relief on that one?  


This movie will be an abomination because:
1.  It obviously will have a love story that steals the innocence and fantasy of the original film/story.  Many a film has been ruined by adding relationship drama to a children's tale that wasn't intended to have it.  The remakes of Willy Wonka and The Grinch come to mind.  The trailer here makes it look as if The Wizard and one of the witches have a fling and I'm just like, puh-lease.  Let's not go there, ok?

2.  Inevitably, some horrible graphics/CGI/3D designer will come in and turn Oz into "look at all the cool stuff I can generate with my computer."  Rein it in boys, we just need a yellow brick road and a glowing city of Emeralds - you can leave the weird fantasy bugs and fairies for the next live action remake of a Disney cartoon.  Oz is magical, but it's not Pandora.  Thanks.

So I'm thinking I'll go into this with the enthusiasm of Eeyore and I'm hoping I'll come out having found my tail.  I may even bring porcelain Dorothy in her glass case to sit next to me in the theatre.  And her little dog too.

A girl can dream...

I just read this:

Basically, I'm desperately hoping that I'll pop over to this website one day and find a picture of Addy somewhere safe where I can go retrieve her.  

Though I know after the first 24 hours, chances of surviving an abduction are slim to none.*

In other news, some of you may know that The Adventurer was kindly replaced by a noble benefactor of this blog.  I ride my new bike to work now almost daily, but last weekend I went on my very first serious bike ride with Matt.  We drove out to Vienna, VA on Saturday and biked the W & OD Trail into Shirlington, then stayed on the Shirlington trail to the Mt. Vernon trail, at which point Matt takes a left towards Old Town and I take a right back into the city.  

Sunday, we went to pick up Matt's car in Vienna so we did the reverse, meeting at the Airport where the Mt. Vernon Trail forks to head towards the W & OD and out to Vienna.  It was about 22 miles each way.  I'm guesstimating.

Newsflash: I'm obsessed with biking.  I bought a Camelbak and padded shorts and I'm obsessed with biking.  Next weekend is the Capitol Crescent Trail.  Stay tuned.

*I realize it's probably a terrible metaphor to liken a bike theft to a human kidnapping, but I'm not generally known for my tact.

Blueberry Wasted

Daryl, April, and I returned to Homestead Farm on Saturday to fulfill our dream of picking the biggest blackberries you've ever seen.

After a week of chowing down on 

the most amazing blueberries I've ever tasted...

I was blueberry wasted.

Picking blackberries is, in many ways, more fun and more efficient.  They're exponentially larger than blueberries, so my tupperware was full in a fraction of the time.  But this also means that they're much heavier and therefore some blackberry sticker-shock ensued at the register.

Something else happened at the register...  I was going to buy two pints of fresh blueberries to continue my blueberry bender - but in typical fashion, I spilled half of them before paying.  I'm not going into the details - but it had to do with physics and my usual lack of spacial awareness.  Let's just say, the minute I saw it happening, I knew why and I was mortified.  This led me to guiltily pay full price for the now half pints of berries, and of course buy a third pint.  It's a local business, people.  And I felt like I cut into their profits by carelessly spilling their product all over the floor.  Seriously, I can't take myself anywhere.

 I now have more blueberries than I know what to do with. 

Someone please check me into blueberry rehab.

You're looking very violet, Violet.

This post was really just an excuse for me to post these blue-people pictures.

Thanks.

The Blueberries of Wrath

Last Sunday, Daryl, April and I went to Homestead Farm for berry picking!  I have never picked anything in my entire life - but I fancy myself a regular Katniss Everdeen.  Homestead Farm is full-service to say the least.  They grow everything you can imagine.  And you can come any day of the week and pick whatever has bloomed. They have everything from Christmas trees to apples, blueberries to cucumbers to sweet potatoes.

We embarked on our adventure with the intention of strawberry picking.  When we arrived, there were blueberries to be had.  It was so fun!  We passed some not-quite-ripe blackberries on the way back to the general store and decided we had to come back when they ripen!  Which - hopefully, will be Saturday, when we plan on returning.

The Farmer's Market

Blueberry Bushes

Berries, when you turn black, we'll be back.

Things My Optometrist Told Me

FYI:  I also contemplated naming this post "Bodily Function Friday" but I thought that would give people the wrong idea.

Anyway - on to things my optometrist told me yesterday:

"Your eyes are a toxic wasteland and you should put those contacts in a museum."

"I haven't seen protein build-up on lenses that bad since before disposable contacts were invented."

Sweet nothings whispered by a doctor I hate seeing more than ... Well, I will give you 3 guesses.

Even though I see Dr. Arnold Miller only about once a year, I like to think he remembers me fondly as the girl who refuses to take out her contacts.  It's true - and it's gross - but I can make 6 months worth of contact lenses work for 18, and not wear my glasses once in the medium.  Since I started seeing Dr. Miller 4 years ago I've actually asked him to custom design a regimen for me so that I never have to remove my contacts ever again.  He has begrudgingly compromised and obliged, prescribing lenses that allow more oxygen flow through my eyes and which require less maintenance.  Gross...but cool.  I in turn promised him I would take said lenses out once a week - which I obviously don't do.

Talk to me about my teeth and I'm a total basket case - I have a too-frequent-to-be-healthy dream of them falling out.  I brush, I floss, I rinse and my dentist is so impressed with these pearly gems that he only has me come to one appointment a year instead of two.

Apparently, as far as my vision is concerned, I lack the same conviction.  Which brings me to yesterday.  Dr. Miller prescribed new lenses for me in November which, for the first time in a decade corrected my slight astigmatism. It was life-changing - but that's another story for another time.  But in January, I started to notice that the lenses really bothered me - burning, cloudy vision, dryness, etc.  I attributed this to my poor habits and actually started removing my lenses like, once a week - sometimes going entire three day stretches removing them every night, and even changing my lenses every 4 to 6 weeks.  Crazy, I know.

When I told Dr. Miller this, he looked at me shocked and said, "You've been having this problem since January and you're just now coming here?"  Well Arnold, since you asked...I'm a girl on a budget, work doesn't provide optical insurance coverage, and i figured it was my own fault for sleeping in my contacts every day for the last 17 years.  You know, the usual.

Arnold then dropped some knowledge on me, which we can read into the deeper meanings of over a bottle or four of wine later if you so should desire, but he said: "Kathryn, your contacts haven't changed - you have."

Chew on that for a minute.  I did.

But but but, I attested, for the first time EVER I have a quasi-regimen for cleaning these bad boys, and providing oxygen to my eyeballs and all that STUFF like hygiene you've been guilting me about for the last 4 years!

After further inspection and some rather hurtful comments about the poor condition of my lenses, which were, quite literally, choking the life from my eyes, Arnold also deduced that after almost 2 decades of refusing to take out, clean, and routinely dispose of my lenses, my eyes are rejecting contact solution. So by trying to take my lenses out, soak them and then stick them back in my eyes, I was further irritating the situation.  I believe the word "secretion" was thrown around but like, ew, gross.

Told you so, Arnold!  I'm a rogue lens-wearer and I'm blazing my own dirty trail, tossing aside modern-day conveniences like contact solution.  I'll just say it: Contact solution is for wimps!

Ultimately, Dr. M did what some optometrist should have done 10 years ago (and I'm not talking about giving me toric lenses - because that is a beef I have with any optometrist I've ever been to who claimed to correct my vision but was only giving the cheapest solution, I digress...) Ahem - Arnold did what an optometrist should have done 10 years ago, and that is give me daily disposable lenses.  Its the solution requiring no solution. Get it?

I'm going to have to adjust to the added time in the morning - I've always thought it daunting and time consuming to put in contacts every day - which is why I never did.  But you win, Arnold.  There's an Earth Day style effort to clean up the wasteland of my eyeballs and I'm bringing my reusable bag, or whatever.   

But seriously, if anyone knows of a contact museum - I have some lenses for sale.

The Little Women That Could

Last Saturday, my Aunt Jeanne and I kicked arse in the Zooma Women's 10K!!  As you all know, my Aunt basically lapped me in the last race we did together and I was pretty disappointed in my performance overall.  But this time we were on my turf, sans New Orleans heat.  She was the perfect partner and pacer and we both performed exceptionally well.

But, ahem, I beat her.  Big smile. And a wink.

So it goes like this - Jeanne had on Tiffany blue running shorts, and every time she passed me on the course I tried to stay about ten feet behind her.  She finished the Classic doing a little over a ten-minute mile, so if I kept up with her, I figured I couldn't be doing half bad.  I knew better than to ostentatiously pass or say anything to her, lest I get a yank to the back of my shirt.  She can be a leetle competitive!

At some point, we'll say around mile 3, I pulled ahead, careful to keep my peripheries open for the sky blue shorts that were pacing me!  Um, but then, I had to go to the bathroom.  Womp Womp.  As the door to the port-o-pot slammed, I figured that Jeanne had pulled ahead.  I looked for the shorts everywhere - but couldn't find the right woman in blue.  After all, there were 3,200 women in this race. Pastels were abundant.

I started to lose hope.  As I passed the Mile 4 marker, I couldn't help but get discouraged.  I thought we were much farther into the course - like at LEAST the 4.5 mile point...  And we were approaching a bridge with a very steep incline.  I knew there was a turnaround at this bridge because there were people on the opposite lane, and I was praying all the way that the turnaround was at the center of the bridge, before the decline.  But no.  The turnaround was at the end of the bridge.  So we went uphill again.  Twice.  This had already been the hilliest route I have ever run.  But then I saw her!  On the other side of the first hill, heading back towards me was my Aunt Jeanne who waved towards me saying, 'Get up here!'  I still had a ways to go before the turnaround - but after that, she remained about 500 feet ahead.  I could see her and she was pacing me!  Not intentionally, but she was none-the-less.

At the end I closed in, blah blah, I don't need to explain how I may have the same competitive genes that my Aunt does.  But I will say that I may or may not have hidden behind a larger girl when I was passing for the final time, just so Jeanne wouldn't see me and try to race me to the finish!  I had very little energy left (or feeling in my feet) - and only enough to finish about 20 seconds ahead.  Which, hell, I consider finishing together!

Honestly, it was the best race I have ever run and it's the best I've ever felt running that distance.  The course was incredibly hilly, and being able to keep my Aunt in my sight made me like 'The Little Runner That Could." I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...  And I did!  I set a PR for myself at Zooma: 62:09; a 10:01/mile pace.

Unfortunately, that course turned me into "The Little Runner That Can't...Walk."  When I wake up in the morning, my muscles are so tight, I can't stand erect for the first few minutes.  And after sitting for a prolonged period at work, I limp to the water cooler.  But it was worth it!  A 10 minute mile is something I never thought I'd be able to accomplish and I only look forward to shaving seconds off of that time in the future.  Well, that... and racing my Aunt to the finish line every time!

The Start

Finishers!

Muscle Milk laid out these yoga mats for post-race stretching.

Well, lookie here.

I read on the DCist this morning that DC Parks were recently ranked 5th BEST in the nation.  I knew there was a reason I was traipsing around this place on foot.  

Read it here.  And Check out the ParkScore Project here.

Running in Chicago

Last weekend while visiting Chicago I went for a lovely run through Loyola Park and Loyola University's lakeside campus. Below are images of the park and Lake Michigan. Also, I'm pretty obsessed with my new app, Polamatic. It's the new Instagram. Also, I just blogged this from my phone with te Blogger app. iPhones are the bomb dot com.

Well, You Know I Like My Chicken Fried

Something terrible happened last night, and I'm not entirely sure that I should be putting this story in print...but no one was harmed, so here goes.

Last night, I fell asleep with chicken in the oven.

It all started when I came home from work.  It was after 9pm, so I had some cheerios for dinner, but was forced to cook the chicken I had thawing in the fridge, lest it go to waste.  The chicken went into the oven around 9:25 - where I promptly forgot about it.  I know I fell asleep sometime between 10 and 10:20, since I only remember a little bit of the Big Bang Theory episode I was watching.  And when I happened to wake up at 3am, my apartment smelled like a 4th of July Barbecue!  I instantly thought, "Weird, I wonder if my neighbor is cooking..."  Then I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep - a few minutes later, realizing, "My oven is on, and that is WHY my apartment smells like an amazing chicken dinner!!"

This episode, combined with the time that I almost fell asleep with the stove on (only to be disturbed by the hissing of the gas), makes me pretty sure there's a part of my brain that has not fully developed.  I'm worried about me, really worried.  And the chicken still went to waste.

A Funny for the Weekend

Ok, I keep reading and re-reading this hilarious little bit from Buzzfeed:

 33 Animals Who Are Extremely Disappointed in You

I'm also going to take this boring Friday to point out my favorites.

*Sidenote - as I narrow down my faves, I'm realizing I love them all.

Cute, right?

Mosey on over to Buzzfeed - All 33 are really worth LOL-ing at.

The Return of Matt

Since hike 2 Matthew has been noticeably absent from the joint endeavor to chronicle our hikes.  Whatever...

But he sent me these amazing pictures from a hike he did in Egypt (where he's been stationed for work for the last three months) and I thought I'd grant him permission to take part in I Like Hike again.

The below are images from the Wadi Degla Desert.

If you click on the pictures, they will enlarge.

I'm kind of jealous.

More importantly - he gets back May 2nd.  And I can't wait.