Well, that's not normal

Last weekend one of my favorite people, Joy, was visiting. And it happened to have been an incredibly cold weekend. A clear skies, blisteringly bright, deathly cold kind of fun.

Joy and I both have Reynaud's, and the weather gave us a chance to commiserate about the problem of having crappy circulation that leaves our fingers turning white at the faintest exposure to cold. But Joy has it worse than I do, and I blithely related that I haven't had many symptoms for awhile. I generally wear mittens or gloves, but sometimes I don't and mostly it's ok. (This is a significant improvement over a few years ago when just getting a pint of ice cream from the grocery store freezer would turn my hand white for half an hour.)

Oh, my cavalier dismissive defiance of the circulatory system! Today was not nearly so cold as last weekend, but I still wore thick gloves during my long run. And when I pulled the gloves off afterward, here's what I found: a reminder not to talk smack about Reynaud's just 'going away.'

You are what you eat (please say it isn't so)

Heidi let me know about a marathon nutrition lecture tonight at the UVM College of Medicine, and I enthusiastically signed up. Nutrition is one of my biggest stumbling blocks in marathon training (aside from long stretches of not running...)

The lecture was helpful - a good review of things I'd heard but not actuated, and an equal dose of practical nutrition science. She said 2,300 calories a day, 60% carbs. I'm probably getting 1,600 calories a day, 60% coffee.

But I have made an effort in the last week to eat better, and I think it made a difference in my long run yesterday -- I ran longer and stronger than I have in months, and I felt great. Today I ate raw almonds, chopped vegetables, whole wheat crackers with hummus, baked trout, orzo and a green salad.

And 4 cups of coffee.

I dreamed a dream

Ok, so here's the kooky dream I had:

It's marathon race day, presumably VCM but it looked more like start line at New Bedford, MA. Amid the masses of people gathering before the race, I kept crossing path with people whom I closely associate with running - Beth, Hiedi, Erika, Jess, and lots of others. Then my mom and my sister were there, and then I realized my sister was running the race also. (She's not a runner.)

A group of us were standing around a 'Pedestrian Crossing' pylon in the street near the start line stretching, milling about, stuffing Gu in our pockets. Then I went into the nearby sports store (which I think was supposed to be Ski Rack, but inside it looked more like a used office supply store). I waited in line to use the bathroom, and stood there with some off office chairs reading the newspaper. And then realized I had been there a long time and the race was starting. I bolted outside and Beth and Erika were like, 'we gotta go - your shoes are over there." And I thought, 'Jeez, why did I wait till now to put on my shoes?!"

While I'm scrambling into my Asics, I overhear my sister asking a concierge (random concierge desk is now on the street corner by the pylon) for a map an directions for the race course. I'm like, 'I've run this race before, we don't have time to get a map - we gotta go!" And Tina is looking at the course map and asking the woman, 'Oh, so If we wanted to shorten this, we could just cut over from here and get to the finish area sooner?' And I'm simultaneously thinking, "there a MILLION options to short cut the VCM course, I'll point 'em out to you. Let's get going!" and also, "you can't just cut short a marathon! That's the point of the marathon - to go the whole distance!"

At which point I realize, my dream brain is confusing marathon training with the hiking we did on vacation last month, when we could chose where to go and for how long, and what route. So get my sister to follow out toward the start, which is no longer on the street, but now involves going through a modernist building with lots of staircases, and Tina decides she doesn't feel like doing the race, maybe she's hang out in the gym or the spa instead.

I start running, but it's seems like it's hours since the race started, because I can't seem to convince the people on the race course that I'm actually a runner -- they all look at me like, 'you know the race passed here ages ago?'

Now, none of this seems like a good running dream. Disorganized at the start, forgot my shoes, temptations to cheat, starting hours late. But it wasn't a stressful dream, mostly just nervous- exciting. Am I gonna make it? Yes, keep going! And that's maybe the bigger point here. Because what part f my training hasn't been undermined by bad planning, forgetfulness, willingness to be talked out of what I should be doing. Making through/around/over those obstacles is what counts.

Love the gym, hate the gym

When the weather guys talk about Arctic conditions for days on end, I adore my gym membership. I think of how warm and lovely I will feel running in a tank top-running dress on the treadmill, not a care in the world about layers, Balaclavas or ice-resistant contraptions strapped onto my shoes.

One evening this week I headed to the gym tired but determined not to the fight compulsion to go straight home. I got myself to the gym, and kept a focused mind when I saw the hand-lettered sign on the door that read 'No hot water.' No matter, I'll drive drive home after running and not bother with showering at the gym. (I overheard another gym goer trying to maintain her determination in talking to the desk clerk, 'Well, i guess I can take a cold shower ad then jump in the sauna to warm up.' "No, the sauna's broken. So is the hot tub.")

Walking past the cardio room, I saw that all the treadmills were taken. Ok. I'll start out on an elliptical until one is freed up. No worries, no reason abandon the workout.

I got in the locker room feeling proud to have brushed off obstacles and was feeling the power of being resolved and determined. This is what long-term goals require! Steadfastness, unwillingness to yield in the face of inconvenience and roadblocks!

And then I realized I had forgotten my shoes.

At this point I knew I would not be running this evening. I live a 1/2 hour out of town, so going home to get my shoes was not an option. And despite the aforementioned resolve, running in the dark Arctic night was not even on my list of possibilities.

So instead, I mentally rescheduled my run for the next day and I went shopping for a treadmill. They are not cheap, but it might be worth it.

Nice neighbors

Like many parts of the Vermont, bicyclists and runners are no strangers in the Champlain Islands and I'm always appreciative of the well-trained drivers who carefully give a wide berth to those of us on the edge of the road. The waves of massive snow storms and berms of plowed snow make being courteous a bit harder for drivers, but they still make the effort to give us space.

Today when I headed out, everything was white. The sky was white, the fields and yards were white, the road was mostly white except where patches of slush had broken free from endless freezing days. Black and green mailboxes poked out of their snow caves, and the muffled sound of snow blowers and roof rakes could be heard.

In the pedestrian-unfriendly monochromatic whiteness, I pulled on a bright red fleece and hit the road. By making it easy for drivers to see me, the drivers make it easy for me run in the travel lane, which is nice because that is really the only space available. There aren't too many cars on East Shore Road on a Sunday morning, but every one of them waved and eased into the oncoming lane, and it made me smile a little every time. There are really nice, helpful people out here.

Until the silver Subaru. I was pretty close to my turn-around point, feeling cheerful and a little winded when a car came barreling right at me! Ok, actually, she was just going the speed limit and was traveling squarely within her lane, but her lack of effort to move over left me covered in a gray, road-salt laden Slurpee. I reflexively turned and threw my hands in the air with the international 'WTF?!' gesture, but the car didn't slow. I ran the next several minutes thinking, 'People are lame! Drivers suck! They aren't nice at all!' A few cars came by, and all gave me plenty of space, and I eased back into a good runner-driver relations mood.

About 1 mile from home, the silver Subaru passed me again. This time, she pulled way out into the oncoming lane, and came to full stop to wait for me with the passenger window down. "I think I splashed you back there -- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" Her tween-age daughter looked a little embarrassed/intrigued in the front seat. (The look on her face was cross between 'my mom is so lame' and 'maybe there'll be fight!' ) I was tickled that she stopped to apologize, and so relieved to know that she hadn't intentionally slushed me with schadenfreude that I happily accepted her apology and even suggested I deserved it. (I mean, I did chose to go out the door in these conditions.)

But mostly, I was just happy to end the run knowing that every driver I passed was a good neighbor.