Hey Cleveland, I’m Here

Hi! I’m in Ohio!

photogirls’ dinner immediately upon arrival = must

Just a regularly scheduled trip home, “conveniently” sandwiched around Cleveland Marathon weekend. I’m running…

the 10k.

Sure, the “OMG MUST BOSTON QUALIFY NOOOOOW” hype had me considering a cram-sesh to run the full, but the odds of me finishing it 1) injury-free 2) fast enough and 3) without wanting to murder myself weren’t very favorable. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the seven marathons I’ve run it’s to respect the distance. Sure, some people can roll out of bed and drop a 3:30 NBD, but (obviously) I’m not one of them. When it’s time to really put down that BQ attempt I want to make sure I toe the line having done the prep right – all the work, sweat, tears, and “seriously I hate love hate love running” a goal race deserves.

Plus I’m pretty excited to check another race off the CLE list. Looks like next year I have to come back for the 5k (or borrow someone’s child for the kids’ run.)

So if you’re in CLE this weekend half or full’ing it and want a cheerleader let me know. I’ll have my cowbell ready for you. Unless I die trying to sprint 6.2 miles. Then you can all fight over my Nuun stash.

cleWhy didn’t anybody tell me “OMG 10Ks are THE WORST!!!” when I signed up??

Oh and on that note next weekend I’ll be heading back out to Ojai… to run the half. Yes yes YES I wanted redemption on that course, but alas, see above.

Happy weekend!

Sarah OUaL

Operation Nuuntini

Our friend Bob (the one that married us, remember?) was in town last week from Ohio. He’s like a grown up little kid – full of endless energy, the ability to chat up anyone, and an infectious happy-go-lucky disposition on life. You could throw him in the bottom of a well and he’d find a way to entertain and enjoy himself. Not that we did that, but I did drag him to the track with me once so I guess that’s kind of the same.

Anyway, after a healthy breakfast and long hike through Laguna Canyon we came back to the house and Bob declared it the “perfect day for a margarita!” followed by, “can we go out to the beach? do you have a frisbee we can throw? wanna play catch? watch me do a handstand!”

bob

boys being boys, fueled by nuun and tequila

It was the PERFECT opportunity to bust out the Nuunarita recipe, which got two big thumbs (& a frisbee and baseball mitt) from Mr Activity.

And with that the inspiration to test out the liquorability of the new Nuun flavors was born…

nuuntini1

cherry limeade, lemonade, watermelon

The next day I employed Kristina as my sous chef – for second opinion tasting, note-taking, and because she had a bunch of awesome mixers and snacks. No mixology experiment is safe without the aid of salty carbs.

You can quote me on that.

action

hard at work emptying bottles

We came up with a couple SOLID winners, perfect for summertime. There were a few more after these but we stopped taking pictures or measuring anything and truth be told a glass of lukewarm bathwater would’ve been fine with a heavy-enough pour of vodka in it at that point.

So here you are. A few new nuuntail/ nuuntini/ “low-guilt except maybe what you do after them” cocktail recipes.

watermelon daiquiri

Watermelon Nuun Daiquiri

Mix a strong batch of watermelon nuun and freeze in an icecube tray. (Shoulda stuck popsicle sticks in a few – maybe next time.) Crush by hitting the shit out of them inside a ziplock with the back of a wooden spoon. I’m sure the neighbors were seconds from calling the cops, especially when paired with the maniacal giggling coming from K and I. Dice up some fresh watermelon, about an even amount as the nuun cubes, and combine in blender with a heavy shot of rum.

Add an umbrella and a Kenny Chesney song for optimal effects.

lemon sunrise

Lemonade Nuun Sunrise

One lemonade tab in ~6oz water (that’s less than half a pint glass), splash of an orange-y juice (we used mango tango naked), and a two-count pour of tequila. Stir, add ice. Slowly pour a little grenadine down the side so it sinks to the bottom and looks really fancy. If you drink carefully it’ll stay there and you can dump it out because aint nobody got time for weird syrupy stuff when there’s tequila to be had instead.

Cherry Limeade Chaser

(no photo because it’s a tab in plain old water and I’m confident you don’t need visual help to make that happen)

When the daytime boozing kicks in and naptime sounds better than rallying to meet your friends out, take a cherry limeade shot. The caffeine (as much as a cup of coffee, I think) will give you a boost for round two and c’mon you know you’re supposed to be putting back a non-alcoholic bev between drinks anyway. We’re not 19 21 anymore…

(or maybe you are, in which case, enjoy it while you can bitches.)

cheers

Sarah OUaL

I was not compensated for this post and no one even offered to come over and make breakfast for my slightly-hungover self the next day. But the good news is I was the most hydrated hungover ever!

The Pacer Game – Practically Quantum Physics

I used to HATE running with people. Any people. I ran alone 100% of the time. I hated feeling like I was slowing someone down, or going too fast for them, or how embarrassingly out of shape I felt heaving words out between breaths in an attempt to on-the-run conversate.

margot

Margot! Remember the first time we ran together? I’m surprised you came back.

But slowly, mostly out of desperation to make friends when we moved to CA, I came out of it. Somehow it became easier to talk mid-stride, and falling into a universally-approved pace became second nature. I started really enjoying running with people.

Anyway, there’s been a lot of talk lately about in-race company and pacers. Susan just ran her friend’s first marathon with her, and there was Super Pacer Mason who pushed no less than 7 different people through parts of the Eugene course.

I didn’t mean to get wrapped up in the hype, but this weekend I got a taste of the pacer game at the OC Marathon. Accidentally. And MAN, who knew it was so complicated??!

SkinnyRunner and Kristina were being marathon bosses and running the marathon “for fun” after both crushing Eugene last week, and I decided to fix my long run into the course since their “easy pace” = “a pace I can almost-sort-of-barely hang on to”

After an hour I got bored of them needed a break. I stopped to wait for Monica who was just a few minutes back when Nicole ran by and said my name. We’d met at Eugene, where she’d been gunning for a BQ but ended up having to pull out early (her story HERE).

from Nicole’s recap – fitnessfatale

We were around mile 18 and although she looked good that’s always a scary place in the race.

“Want some company?”

“LET ME DRAFT OFF YOU”

Aint nobody got time for extra words at mile 18. I’ll let her tell the runner’s side (HERE), but I’ve got some thoughts from the impromptu “pacer” point of view.

Thoughts From a Pacer’s First Date

1) It is a very helpless feeling not knowing how to help. I wanted to ask a million questions – ‘is this pace ok? do you want me to run in front or beside? do you want me to tell you a story? do you need anything?’ – but that is a) annoying and b) bad for energy management.

Had I ever run with Nicole – hell maybe talked to her more than twice – it would’ve been a little easier to sense what she wanted or needed, but god damn those miles were the most stressful ever! Pacing is tough shit.

2) I’ve come up with four different approaches towards the pacer/run buddy. It’s hard to tell how your runner will respond if you haven’t tried them out, like a fart joke on a first date. Ideally you’ll have some experience together to get an idea, but remember no one can fully predict how their brain will react in the pain cave. So if your angry little mile 20 friend isn’t responding to your pom pom cheers, maybe try one of the others :

  • Distraction

This is the “just talk to me, tell me a story, read the phone book, recite the pledge of allegiance just for fuck’s sake take my mind off this pain” approach. Likely nothing is actually being processed so feel free to ramble nonsense or deep dark secrets – just make noise.

SR pam I

Pam and I with SR at her 50K last year – the machine doesn’t NEED help but said the company made it more fun

  • Sherpa

The take-away-all-of-the-thinking approach. Let them run like that hot football player no one knew how they got into college – all body, no brains.

me mason

Mason providing course intel and of course hydration support while my brain vacationed

  • Affirmation

Your runner is a self-conscious headcase and needs reassured they CAN hold this pace, they CAN finish, they ARE NOT going to die? Or they’re announcing their permanent separation from running due to irreconcilable differences and needs reminded why they’re putting themselves through this ridiculous self-inflicted torture? Remind them of the training that got them here – that they are prepared, capable, and damned if they throw away all those early Saturday wake up calls to quit with 10k to go. Maybe add a little pat on the butt for good measure.

K me

K delirious at mile 25.9 

  • Tough Love

It’s “suck it up, buttercup” time. No really. Move your ass, don’t you dare let this person pass you, there’s no crying in running. They might hate you at the time, but they’ll thank you later.

Eventually.

mon sr

SR giving Monica a little cattle prod to a huge PR at the OC Marathon

Keep this in mind next time you agree to jump into a run or race with a new friend. And trust me, you’ll get to see a real rough side of your friend in those late miles.

Brace yourself.

Sarah OUaL

Hell Yeah I’ll be at Boston (…someday)

By now a lot has been said about Monday’s events in Boston – way more than I can even begin to comprehend. But whatever your level of affectedness – whether you were there, wished you had been, or knew someone that was – I think we (collectively, “the runners”) can all agree this hit way too close to home.

I don’t have much to contribute (having not been there myself) and most of my thoughts are byproducts of the sadistic “what if” game or rhetoric we’ll never have answers to, so I’ll keep it short.

The outpouring of support, love, and fiery resilience from the running community has been astounding. I’m so proud to be part of this peculiar connected-in-miles-but-otherwise-completely-unrelated group people. High fives to all of you being awesome and finding the good in this face of evil.

It makes me ill thinking what the runners whose spectators were injured are going through. Running has a reputation of being a selfish sport, and it kills me that loved ones there to selflessly cheer on the culmination of someone else’s journey were the ones most affected. That unfair sense of responsibility for putting them in harms way? Terrifying.

image

mom trying to find a nice way to thank me for failing to qualify last year

And finally, I want to run down that finish on Boylston Street more than ever now. Yes, as Emily pointed out, I DO realize that means I’ll have to run another marathon (and then another once I actually get there). I don’t know when or where it will happen, but BQ will be mine. Someday.

Until then I’ll take bittersweet comfort in those 126 seconds that kept me and my family from being there this year, and send all my wishes to those hurting that were.

forboston

Oh and also, FUCK YOU to whoever did this. You’ll get what you deserve.

… x10000

Sarah OUaL

Why I Didn’t Buy My Husband a Birthday Gift

Brian and I haven’t bought “presents” for each other in like, four years. For anything.

I’m pretty impossible to shop for (50/50 picky and I just buy anything I want for myself), and he’s the simplest person in the world that’s happy with a thrifted tshirt and a good six pack of IPA.

watch

one of the last presents Brian bought for me – and possibly the only one I didn’t exchange. hanging on to it for dear life.

Which is exactly what his brother gets him every year for Christmas. A bag of old tshirts and something to pour in a pint glass. It’s his favorite gift.

I’m used to the horrified/confused looks people give when I answer their gift inquisitions with “Nothing. Really, I didn’t get him anything.” by now, and most of our good friends just know better than to ask.

No, we’re not hippie, non-materialistic, “our love is present enough” do-gooders. We’re also not fun sponge lame-o’s trying to suck the happiness from exciting events by pretending they aren’t worthy of a little extra attention. We celebrate (not the Hallmark holidays, though, cmon), we just don’t do it with wrapping paper and bows.

Previous “gifts” over the years have been : trips to Cancun, Jamboree in the Hills, Vegas, and Big Bear; the Baseball Hall of Fame, Spring Training, All Star Game, and that one magical year the Tribe *ALMOST* went to the World Series (uhhh we like baseball) brewery adventures at Great Lakes, Stone, and Ommegang; and flights home to celebrate with the fams (even if they are gift-givers…)

happyeverything

See? Non-giftwrapped presents are fun. And Brian doesn’t lose sleep trying to come up with an idea I won’t hate, because lord knows I won’t pretend to love something if I can exchange it for something I’ll actually use.

The point of all this is today’s Brian’s birthday, and once again I’m off the gift-giving hook. He’s getting a tribute tattoo for his grandpa that served in WWII at Pearl Harbor, something he’s talked about for YEARS. He finally found an artist and concept he likes and I don’t have to worry about birthdays, anniversaries, or Christmases for like four years because HOLY SHIT getting a custom piece of artwork etched onto your skin canvas is expensive.

This weekend we did the cheap birthday “acknowledgement” with breakfast at our favorite hidden spot and a 4 mile hike through Peters Canyon. It was awesome.

breakfast

photo 4

hike

yes, emily, rattlesnakes. this trail will not be included on any upcoming itineraries, promise.

Happy birthday, babe. No bows required.

Sarah OUaL