Monday Monday

Thankfully I spent the first half of today basking in the afterglow of my PR, (btw - I wonder how long I can milk that? ) as it was the first day of benchmark testing. This is how school districts asses progess of kiddos on the TEKS months prior to the TAKS test so the teacher can determine areas of weakness.

Yeah.

Picture this: you teach language arts to four different classes which will be tested simultaneously. First they will write a composition, related to what's usually a corny writing prompt that they act like they do not understand. Because is sucks. After they pour their guts out onto the front and back of a lined sheet of paper, revised and edited to the best of their energy level, they begin the objective portion. This means revising and editing some essays by fictitious students ("Please help Jeannette revise her essay on Mount St Helen's...") via multiple choice questions. Ok, it's actually not that bad, they just aren't up for it quite yet. It's October, people.

And Clearly you cannot put all 85 7th graders in the same room ALL DAY for a writing test, so you divvy them up.

First, you have to mentally asses which of your classes is the neediest, the squirreliest, and generally the biggest in the ass, and that's the class who you need to test.

Next, you have to choose the teachers on your grade level to test your "other" three classes, preferable teachers who are not pansies. You match up the personalities...then choose a couple of babies who you need to keep with you anyway.

Because completing this exam takes more than a couple of class periods, we shut down rotation. This means th students stay in the same room from 9 am until 3:30 pm, even if they finish the test a 1:30, and having to be completely quiet except during lunch.

Oh, and I'm trapped in there with them! Woo hoo!

And people wonder why I drink.

Return to the Bog hash - last Sunday

Last Sunday Stop n' Blow and John Boy hared a "re-creation" hash, reminiscent of the of the "birth" of Stop n' Blow. Best I can tell Grind and Baby Huey were planning a kickass shiggy run in the wilds of Humble and she begged to go along so that they could teach her to hare.

I'd say they did a fine job.

The territory west of 59 at Kingwood Boulevard is also where I ran my first hash nearly 12 years ago. Heartache was the hare, and I inadvertently cut off 80% of the trail, winding up at the on in within 20 minutes.

Not so today! Trail lasted about 1:15 for me. Grind ran with his camera to get some hasher action shots.

Look at that sandy gully-impressive


The Hares, plus Smooth Stroker

ID10T and I bursting through the shiggy.Our speed would explain the large gashes on my legs




















Heartache and FMR traversing a scrubby field.







This is Momma's Boy playing jumping on my back for a ride. Grind yells out before snapping the photo, "Hey, don't you doggie-style my wife in the water!"Much ridicule dished out later.








The second of two San Jacinto river crossings.





This was the first of the two crossings. Looks like something from the jungles of Malaysia, doesn't it?








A rather impressive cypress swamp. Watch out for the knees! Ouch.








More deep, dark water






Aw, the very first creek crossing! So long ago...

Zoltan in the bog.

Ok, you can let our your breath now*revised with no math*

Ok, the race is over, and I just know you're on the edge of your seats waiting for the report.

Here's the dillio:
After the USA 10 miler, Jon sent me a sorta-cryptic email congratulating me on my finish (that part wasn't cryptic) and saying, "And you made the marathon qualifying standard time!"

Really? I looked at those last year before and basically thought, "HA! Sure I can run that!" (again, difficult to convey sarcastic tone via a keyboard. Did you catch it?) The part I'm leaving out is that you actually have to WIN and qualify in order to be an invited runner, so of course being completely, thoroughly outclassed (in my running, duh) by Heidy Lozano, it was a moot point.

But still... I was pretty proud of meeting the standard, so I made that my super-secret goal for the half-marathon. The time: 1:33:20. The plan: go out fast for the first mile, drop down, and wait. Third loop, hammer time. Great pants, no?

Well, the first mile worked out according to the plan. Right at 6:51, so now I can slow down, right? See, my concern for this race was increased by one-third with the interminable construction on Bagby-- no flat-ish first loop this year, replaced by the an extra run down the dips on Allen Parkway. Sigh. I knew he hills would tire me out, and I was reminiscing for the flat expanses of Webster, Texas.

Jake wanted a running partner that would keep him from giving it too much speed, and I enjoy company, so I thought it would work out. Do you know how fast Jake is? I think his marathon PR dropped below 3 hours twice last year, so that should have been my first clue. I figured he could spot a 7-minute mile from across the street, so we'd be golden.

Here's the reality:
1- 6:51
2-6:54 (yikes)
3-7:03 (ok, getting closer)
4 -7:01
5- 7:03
6-6:52
7-7:04
9 & 10 -13:38 -at 1:09:17 for 10 miles-pretty happy at this point
11-6:57
12 -6:37
13.1-7:27-Finish time of 1:30:17

So I never hit the 7:05 pace that I had worked myself into a frenzy over. Every single mile was faster. Every. Single. Mile. Previous best- 1:34:06.

Roger commented, "So did you break 1:30?", and then looking at my watch, "Oh, no, you missed it."

Um no, Roger, I was aiming for 133, so I'm pretty happy, "gosh darnit".

What I did leave out earlier is that I was completely freaking out. As in "omigodomigodomigoswhadamidoingiam sogoingtocrashholycrap," which was running thru my head most of the first two loops.

There were a few ladies that I thought I should catch on that third lap, also. I passed one at mile 11, and the other two at the last turnaround. But they sped up! CRAP! This means I have to actually RACE! In a race! When I only wanted to PR! Jeez!

But it was fine. I did not die, and I nearly caught up to snarky Schroeder at the end. You know, kind of like when I play pool, I don't really even have to even beat some people. It's enough for me that they think I might beat them.

How am I?

I'll let you know in about 3 hours, after the Koala/Luke's Half-marathon is over.

35 down, 28 to go.

Last night's run was so much easier than I imagined it would be. Memories from two weeks ago and wiping the burning sweat from my eyes were still too fresh, so I emailed Coach for confirmation of my pace.

I didn't hear back in time.

So based on our previous conversations, I converted the hieroglyphics repeats I could fathom and execute: 3M warmup, 3x (3 1200s, 1 slow tempo, 1 medium tempo, 1 fast tempo.) 2 mile cooldown. The lack of rest between sets may exude a glare that hurts your little eyes, but don't wory. I survived :-)

Although the couch was calling, I summoned the gumption to toss on a sweater (yikes!) and amble back out the door to hear the Suspects, and I rewarded myself with a frosty Stone IPA (BYOB, of course) and spirited ska dancing.

TGIF.

Thursday at Discovery Green

The Suspects

Some of you may remember them from the best garage party, evah, at The Lair (circa 2000) free at 6:30 pm, October 16.
Be there!

Thank you baby Jesus

I-10 is now OPEN!
The sight of 6 open lanes sent chills thru my body- my commute is now cut by 5-10 minutes!

Happy Columbus Day

Go forth and oppress an indigenous people.*

*Lord, help me. I've quoted Boy George. Again.

I do love me some cloudy weather!

Today's run: USA 10-miler.
Results: 1:10:05 (PR by 55 seconds) and 1st female, 40-44.

Junebug rode down to the race with me and asked about my goals. Not really sure what I could do or where I was in my training, I told her I'd shoot for a conservative first few miles at 7:30 and just pace by feel after that.

I found my "Tour" nemesis, Ms. Jodi, at the start line and we talked about running together. The pace after the gun seemed a little fast and our split at the first mile elicited a nasty expletive from my lips. "I can't keep doing that!" she warns.

"I can't either, let's slow down. We backed off and I hit the next two in7:10. Still much faster than I planned, but the cloud cover made the pace comfortable. Knowing how the sun warms up the course near 8 am, I figured I should hold this for a while and begin a conscious slow-down as the burning orb in the sky arose.

And then the game changed.

As I neared his pace, Coach Rich quips, "I thought I was going to beat you this year." I answered that he still might, but held on, right behind my fellow trail-wench Helen. Fraser had just surged ahead and was running and chatting next to her. Third mile, 7 minutes. Almost 30% done; how will this end, I wondered.

Say what you will, but I adore this course. It's a box! And flat! What's not to love? You run next the Armand Bayou Nature Center for quite a ways, and grow more relaxed surrounded by its swampy foiliage: tall grasses and cypress trees, the occasional roadkill not withstanding.

As the course turns right onto Red Bluff and later on NASA Road One, I caught a motivating breeze as we ran over the water. The irony being that I don't really even LIKE water, and I DESPISE Clear Lake. (the area, not the actual lake).

Saw Jazzy Joe with his BARCers handing out water right by the fourth marker, which I managed to miss. I noticed this summer that he's looking really, really fit, and then I read about his biking miles and extremely conservative diet. Amazing discipline-go Joe!

And then I notice it..the tag...on my shoe...it's come undone! Crap! What now? Bend over t refasten? Take it off and carry it? I decide to do nothing and hope for the best. I pass the hald in just under 36 and think, "Ok, a 72 isn't out of the question." I haven't ever run under 73, or possibly 74 on this course.

Mile six and I'm right with Helen, and I think it's my slowest mile yet, but the watch says 42:39. I can't add, I'm too out of it.. just run. Then I ran mile 7 in 6:54, passing Shon and Rich. Damn, 3 miles left? I start composing my blog. Jeez, Helm, focus. I sure with this was two miles to go and not three....

Reluctantly, I pass Helen, and I see Duval riding toward us on his bike. "Victor's just ahead-you can catch him!" I look hopefully at my friend and nod as if to say, "Yes, WE can catch him." She's not feeling it, and I pull on ahead.

So as not to bore anyone left reading, I just say I finished in around he same pace and DID catch Victor. On the back stretch I hear "One hour-ten minutes" from the bullhorn, thinking, "Ok, I can still go under 1:12!". What I didn't realize (was my watch BROKEN? or am I just insane at mile 9?) is that he was calling out that we could MAKE it in under 1:10-the clock said 1:09:50-something as I made that fateful left into the home stretch.

No one is more surprised than I am, although the VDOT calculator on RunBayou puts my pace within what I knew was my range. Who'd a thunk it?



Something that I find is unusual at the USA 10-miler is the rampant duplication of awards. Most race nowadays state that they don't, and I honestly don't know the entire history of this practice, but I wonder as to the logic of the On The Run folks to do it this way.

So sorry...

I've spent the last week grading papers, running quite a bit, and making myself sick watching Sarah Palin videos.

To save your stomachs, this one is from "Real Time with Bill Maher". Granted, if he weren't an atheist, he'd probably be angling to be on the right hand of the anti-Christ, but he is funny and there are some real facts here.

Ok, enough of that-more about ME!

Last week was a monster-mileage week in my last month of training for San Antonio. It looked like this:

29 OFF

Hills OR -1 hour with 2 x 10 mins fast with 5 mins jog b/t (8-9 miles)

45 mins easy (6 miles)

Tempo or Step Down 3 x (1 at slow, 1 at medium, 1 at fast) see chart OR 5 x (9 mins fast with 1 min jog 1 @ fast, 1 at med, 1 at fast, 1 at med, 1 at fast (11-12 miles)

50 mins to 1 hour (7-8 miles)

2:45-3:00 or 22 miles, whichever comes first (last 6-8 miles can be at or under goal marathon pace)

7 30 mins easy (4 miles) Goal Mileage-55-60

I went into Thursday night pretty intimidated and with my swarthy Scottish training Sherpa by my side, so he could drag me thru the 3x3 miles. My paces weren't that challenging, but dang, 9 miles of anything is quite a bit.

Warmup, fine. First set, fine. Second set....well let's say things started to get fuzzy. I made it through by cutting the last repeat (the "fast" one) to a 1200. Right before this leg of the workout, tho, I stopped for a drink, wiped the toxic sweat from my brow and told my running partner, "I don't feel so good."

Being the pal he is, he answers, "wow, I've never seen you like this-it's kind of funny!" and he starts to chu-ck-le. Ahem. Because I can realize the humor in how completely outclassed I was by this workout, we are still friends. Saturday went much more smoothly-we started out with KW and added a modified RO loop to make it 23. He says "Hey-this time you still have colour in your face!" (notice the British spelling) . Well.

Fast forward to this week, a step down in my mileage which will end with the USA 10-miler tomorrow. I email coach to ask about pace on 1200s...which I compare to miles...and he tells me that if I cna't make my repeats in 6:00, then I should stick to 1200s for now.

4-5 x 1200 w/ 3 mins

See Chart for times

(8-9 miles)

Well, that certainly explains a lot, now doesn't it??

For crying out loud already...

Would someone please tell this woman what the word maverick means, and have her explain why she thinks she is one?


I didn't jump on this bandwagon right away, I promise. She was an unknown, so I waited until I knew something. Unfortunately for her, my fist exposure was in the form of SNL satire- a spoof on her interview with Katie Couric. Completely amused yet dumbfounded at items the interview referenced, I searched YouTube for the original.

Holy high horse, Batman!

I think I was most offended when Couric asked her about abtaining a passport, but I don't remember if it was in that clip or in part one, but ICK. Apparently Palin didn't apply for one until last year, which is a little odd. She responded in a bitter, condescending tone, (paraphrased) "I have alwasys worked, and usually have had two jobs. I couldn't just out while I was in college and take off for Europe with my backpack ." Like that's the only time ANYONE would possible for time to explore another country-during college. As a fellow not-a-freaking-rich-kid, I was appalled that she spewed such contempt for anyone who has had the opportunity to travel. And this is who people want as second in charge. Of their COUNTRY!

I don't understand her appeal. "But she's like me, so AVERAGE!" Listen, I don't want average, I want Ivy-league, insanely-educated, scholarly, worldly, and connected to many, important and otherwise as my leader. Hell, I even want that for my school principal, and I wouldn't vote for her as vice-president of my running club. 3:59 marathon my ass. If she can attach a sail to her rear to cathc all of that hot air she might qualify for Boston.

I guess independent thinking all relative, really, because what American, living in 2008:

• thinks that the vice-residency is part of the legislative branch of government
• wants to ban books from being in a public library
• thinks it's okay to state employees if they don't agree (or divorce your sister)
• wants to set back reproductive rights 50 years?
• sees a nationally-televised debate as a time to "talk to the American People" without "answering those tough questions"-nice waste of our time, lady.
• believes that a candidate who wants to cut low-income preschool programs is in favor of education

You're right, most don't, at least not the people that I run with (literally and figuratively).

Concerned: consciencious homeoner versus slacker de jour

I LOVE my house. I really, really like my neighborhood. Most of my neighbors are pretty nice, and some are exceptionally generous.

But let's just say Ike did not exactly bring out he best in everyone.

Take neighbor Tom, for instance...please. Take him now. The Woodlands, Midtown, three lots away, we don't care, just TAKE HIM.

Upon our arrival in the fair Woodland Heights, the ramshackle condition of our neighbor's homes was clear as mud. I think my brother-in-law commented, "You guys live next to the two biggest birdhouses in the neighborhood." Not just a metaphor, people. Gaps exist between the rafters and rooves of both houses-gaps large enough to allow for free-flow of avian and small-mammal traffic. I might even have a shot of the rotten siding on one house just to the north of our driveway..will post later. The other begins projects and lets them hang...his fence was near collapse, so Grind told him of his plan to rebuild it. Did he offer to help? sure! I think he did reimburse Grind after he worked on it for 3 days, but he's pretty frustrated.

He tries to led by example: re-roofing our house, grooming the yard and tending to it was it were a prom queen's hair-do, scraping, repainting...you can imagine, especially if you know him.

So have the boys on the block followed suit?

Kidding. You know they haven't. You've read about the collision between a fishy-smelling, sandpapery, tarpaper roof and my the once-immaculate paint on my SUV. You may recall our mentioning the 90-decibel hum of Luke's generator under our open windows. The consideration! It's overwhelming!

Ahem.

My point is, between these clowns and the shenanigans of the bar across the street, the 'hood isn't as happy as we'd imagined. The debris pile in front of trashed house #1 is beyond disgusting, but since the cleanup is taking so long, ours has grown brown and annoying, too.

Grind (and on a much, much smaller scale, me) spends too much time making improvements our house for the surrounding domiciles to rot around us.

It's time for the the city to buck up and do the right thing.