tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29827210792027066852024-03-05T03:12:05.393-05:00Making Our MarksOne Family's Impressions On and Of the WorldNancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.comBlogger173125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-66742302863987102602014-01-01T22:50:00.003-05:002014-01-01T22:50:57.801-05:00Holiday Baking--Three RecipesIn the spirit of the New Year I am fulfilling a facebook promise to share the Chocolate Bread recipe, as well as two others I've mentioned recently.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">1. Chocolate Bread</span></b><br />
<i>This is Mary Wright's Coffee Hour Bread recipe which I've adapted. Mary taught me the basics of baking with yeast back in 1986. Recipe makes 2 large loaves or 4 skinny ones. I usually do half the batch as chocolate bread and half with Mary's filling. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf_NAdv8n9xo-h0ihyy5xJsUpdQ7V-Tcyag60Tsgst_teEI7PHiLBDIhEDDC6G5TLw1Cev-9_aYlxFd-R-eNPhkWLg5GApU5aO-HUH7UpUg2V4XPZSvxkVSvEtE9-6PJrZrZPWlUEHClYB/s1600/IMG_0278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf_NAdv8n9xo-h0ihyy5xJsUpdQ7V-Tcyag60Tsgst_teEI7PHiLBDIhEDDC6G5TLw1Cev-9_aYlxFd-R-eNPhkWLg5GApU5aO-HUH7UpUg2V4XPZSvxkVSvEtE9-6PJrZrZPWlUEHClYB/s320/IMG_0278.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">chocolate bread in the foreground</td></tr>
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<b>Ingredients:</b><br />
5-5 1/2 cups flour<br />
1/4 cup sugar<br />
1 teaspoon salt<br />
2 packages yeast [1 pkg = a shy tbsp]<br />
1 cup milk<br />
1/2 cup water<br />
2 sticks margarine<br />
2 eggs<br />
filling (see additional recipes)<br />
<br />
<b>Directions:</b><br />
In a large bowl mix 2 cups flour, sugar, salt and the dry yeast. In a microwavable bowl, combine milk, water, and margarine. Heat in microwave until liquids are very warm (but not so hot as to kill the yeast). Gradually add warm mixture to dry ingredients and beat 2 minutes on medium speed, scraping bowl occasionally. Add eggs and 1/2 cup flour. Beat 2 minutes on high. Stir in enough additional flour to make a stiff dough. Kneading optional. Cover and set aside for 20 minutes. [This is a good time to make your filling(s)]. Turn out dough onto floured board and divide in half. Roll each half into a 10 x 14 inch rectangle (or do smaller quarters). Spread with filling and roll from long side. Place on greased cookie sheet and slit top diagonally every inch. Let stand 10 minutes then bake at 375 degrees for 25-30 minutes.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Mary's Cinnamon-Walnut Filling</span></b><br />
<i>This is the traditional coffee-hour bread filling. This recipe is enough filling for a whole batch (2 large loaves).</i><br />
<br />
2 cups chopped walnuts<br />
2/3 cup sugar<br />
2-3 tsp cinnamon<br />
2 egg whites<br />
1 tsp water<br />
<br />
Chop nuts, add sugar and cinnamon (and raisins, if desired) and mix. Combine egg whites and water and mix in with rest to create a moist but not wet filling.<br />
<br />
<b style="font-size: x-large;">Chocolate Filling (my concoction)</b><br />
<i>A crowd favorite with all ages. </i><i>Christmas for me must include Chocolate Bread and fresh pears.</i><i>This recipe is enough filling for a whole batch (2 large loaves).</i><br />
<br />
1 bag chocolate chips (I prefer dark chocolate)<br />
heavy cream (I don't measure...maybe a 1/2 - 3/4 cup?)<br />
a splash of rum or Kirsch or Grand Marnier or....whatever<br />
<br />
Put in microwaveable bowl and heat carefully, stirring often, so that chocolate melts but does not burn. Remember that chocolate will hold its shape until you take it out and stir it (don't rely on seeing it melt). Ideally you will have a sort of ganache that will spread easily. Experimentation required; an extra bag of chocolate on hand is highly recommended (because if you burn it there is nothing to do except start over). Extra filling is delicious on ice cream.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">2. Christmas Morning Casserole</span></b><br />
<i>I found this recipe on-line at Allrecipes.com, submitted by Maryellen Hays and it has become a holiday tradition. It is really easy to throw together the evening before and just pop in the oven in the morning. </i><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrUAuteYIOwoV1av_wd2HvixkOzIQSxI24jutg_tXlFKuuf8GtxCGgorvCkgNqWq1OyTW30dtfnuLk6yy-e_i10gq8jjqUQz38RmJdpg2WprgsdTXynmyPHfxNSGeHRInJUoM_aYX81Te/s1600/IMG_0275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrUAuteYIOwoV1av_wd2HvixkOzIQSxI24jutg_tXlFKuuf8GtxCGgorvCkgNqWq1OyTW30dtfnuLk6yy-e_i10gq8jjqUQz38RmJdpg2WprgsdTXynmyPHfxNSGeHRInJUoM_aYX81Te/s320/IMG_0275.JPG" width="320" /></a><b>Ingredients:</b><br />
7 slices white bread, cubed<br />
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese<br />
6 eggs<br />
3 cups milk<br />
1 teaspoon ground mustard<br />
1/2 teaspoon salt<br />
1/4 teaspoon pepper<br />
6 bacon strips, cooked and crumbled<br />
<br />
<b>Directions:</b><br />
In a greased 11 x 7 x 2 inch baking dish [I use a stoneware Pampered Chef covered baker) combine bread cubes and cheese. In a large bowl whisk eggs, milk, mustard, salt and pepper; pour over bread and cheese. Top with bacon. Cover and refrigerate over night.<br />
Remove from refrigerator 30 minutes before baking [I rarely do this]. Bake, uncovered, at 350 degrees for 45-55 minutes or until knife inserted near the center comes out clean. Casserole tends to puff up like a souffle while baking but usually collapses shortly thereafter.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">3. Cherry-Orange Bread with Grand Marnier Glaze</span></b><br />
<i>I found this as Cranberry-Orange Bread...on myrecipes.com but I have a "thing" for dried cherries so I changed it. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcnkLYe8gV2egHr4MYITchfclJGRS3ZgBRtAeqIR9YpbHQokxYBJi6p1nLYCBhOW3isc8epFl2Uq_dUQZGKIZNpb92PvYmqSbXSxMcZbQJqZpJk91rpv6sozV57CRAJlKFxfGikiDqXxP/s1600/2013-12-28+22.06.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcnkLYe8gV2egHr4MYITchfclJGRS3ZgBRtAeqIR9YpbHQokxYBJi6p1nLYCBhOW3isc8epFl2Uq_dUQZGKIZNpb92PvYmqSbXSxMcZbQJqZpJk91rpv6sozV57CRAJlKFxfGikiDqXxP/s320/2013-12-28+22.06.28.jpg" width="180" /></a><b>Ingredients:</b><br />
1 1/2 cups unsalted butter, plus more for greasing the pans<br />
1 1/2 cups sugar<br />
4 eggs<br />
1 cup orange juice (fresh squeezed if possible)<br />
1 cup sour cream<br />
2 tablespoons freshly grated orange zest<br />
2 teaspoons vanilla extract<br />
4 cups flour<br />
1 tablespoon baking powder<br />
1/2 teaspoon salt<br />
a 5 oz package of dried cherries<br />
<br />
<b>Glaze:</b><br />
2 cups powdered sugar<br />
6 tablespoons orange juice (fresh squeezed if possible)<br />
2 tablespoons Grand Marnier or other orange liqueur<br />
a little bit of orange zest<br />
<br />
<b>Directions:</b><br />
Preheat oven to 330 degrees [that's the oddest temp I've ever heard and we always turn our oven down, so I do 300]. Butter two 6-cup capacity loaf pans OR six 2-cup capacity mini loaf pans.<br />
With an electric or standing mixer on medium speed, cream butter and sugar together in a large bowl until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, mixing well after each. Add orange juice, sour cream, orange zest, and vanilla; mix until blended.<br />
In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. Add flour mixture and cherries to wet ingredients and mix just until dry ingredients are absorbed. Do not overmix.<br />
Pour batter into prepared loaf pans. Bake until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, approximately 60 minutes for large loaves, 45 for mini loaves.<br />
Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together the glaze ingredients which should be the consistency of corn syrup. If it is too thick, thin it with additional liqueur.<br />
Let loaves cool in pans for 10 minutes, then remove and transfer to a cooling rack set over a baking sheet. With thin skewer or toothpick, poke deep holes in tops of loaves. Drizzle glaze so it coats the top, runs down the sides, and seeps into the holes.<br />
Let cool completely then slice and serve or wrap and freeze. Makes great holiday gifts.Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-39136105456604012632013-10-14T17:33:00.000-04:002013-10-14T18:31:15.851-04:00Race Report: Tufts Health Plan 10k for WomenI ran Tufts two years ago and intended to do it again this year. Unfortunately, plans to meet up with several friends fell through, and I didn't really need to spend money on a bus ticket and lose a long weekend with family, so I didn't end up going even though I had registered. Boston friend, Cecilia, kindly picked up my packet, bib, and tech tee so I will retrieve those eventually and have something to show for my money (which was well spent for a good cause anyway). Today, instead of running the Tufts 10k for Women along the Charles and Boston's Public Garden, I ran the Marks 10k for Woman...and 2 Men along the Stillwater and Brownie's Park. Alan and James and I ran a 6.2 mile route that included portions of the river trail and a loop around/through campus. It was good (and hard) to run more than just a mile for a change (we're doing another mile-a-day challenge) and I wasn't as terribly slow as I thought I'd be. So Yay me! and Yay us! and maybe this will become a new tradition, the Marks Family Columbus Day Run...or something. Anyway, below is my long lost race report from two years ago that never got posted (probably because I was going to plug in some pictures, but oh well, too bad, here you go sans photos). Enjoy!!<br />
<br />
On October 9, 2011--our 18th wedding anniversary--Alan and I ran the Great Island 5k in Newcastle, NH and then drove to Exeter where we left our van, donned our backpacks, and boarded the Amtrak Downeaster bound for Boston. The trip was pleasant and comfortable and we arrived safely at North Station, navigated the subway, and found City Sports in plenty of time to pick up my packet for the Tufts 10k. The "packet" consisted of a bib, a nice long-sleeved tech tee, and a small sling backpack with several coupons and flyers ("here: go buy something.") and a card that said<br />
"CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR FINISH!"<br />
So...the actual running part is optional?!?! Yeah, I don't think so. [But apparently this year, I decided that the location is optional...]<br />
<br />
I forgot to mention in the post about Great Island [which I can't locate just now so perhaps I never posted that one either. Oh good, more backlog to use for future post fodder], that we got tee shirts (cotton, but decent) and custom Swix ski hats (very nice--I will totally wear this for the Turkey Trot). And remember the post-race food? It was totally awesome. Post-race fuel at Tufts? A large bottle of warm energy drink shoved at you by someone whose primary job seemed to be to herd you away from the finish, and tables full of boxes of pretzel stix. Oh, and whatever junk food you cared to buy from vendors in the park. So the Great Island 5k, which had tons of waaaaay better free food, plenty of bottled water before and after the race, a tee shirt and a hat cost $20. The Tufts 10k gave us a really nice shirt and a small bag, a bottle of something gross and virtually nothing to eat and cost $38. But I did get a priceless moment at the end...<br />
<br />
But first we had to get there, which was a whole adventure in itself...We had ridden the train out to the Feys in Fitchburg to spend the night. In the morning, Kathy drove us from there to a train station where we left the car in the garage and got through the turnstiles when Alan suddenly realized he couldn't find his debit card. Uh oh. We stopped while he rummaged in pockets, and bags and my wallet and we finally thought it had either fallen out of his pocket in Kathy's car or on the train the night before. We'd had this mad dash to catch the train so he determined that he just stuck the card in a pocket of his cargo shorts after using it in the ticket machine and before we ran for it. We imagined it falling out and getting picked up by an enterprising person who was probably having a spending spree as we stood there. As we fretted about this, we let one possible train come and go and Kathy started thinking about the things she had with her in the stroller and realized she didn't have an important emergency-supply bag ("just the one with the epi-pen...") so she went back to the car to retrieve it (and to check her car for Alan's card) while we waited with the kids and I used my phone to go online to check our bank account. No unusual activity yet, but the card wasn't in Kathy's car either. We determined that we would check the lost & found at North Station and then call the bank if that didn't pan out, but that there wasn't much else we could do about it right then and we were cutting things close for getting me to Boston Common in time. <br />
<br />
I was getting excited about the 10k--in Boston! with 6000+ other people!--and the sightings of women and girls with bib numbers and/or City Sports bags were becoming more frequent the closer we got. Plus it was 6-year-old Alex's first train ride [that he could remember] which was quite thrilling! It's not like there was much money in the bank account to steal anyway...so we put worry aside and enjoyed the day.<br />
<br />
We arrived in good fashion and found ourselves in the throng of runners and their entourages. Here I was: one runner with a crew consisting of 1 husband + 1 college roommate + her 2 kids (one in a stroller) + 1 other college friend yet to arrive. And for every body there was at least one backpack/purse/diaper bag/emergency toolkit....we took up some space. And space was a rare commodity. It wasn't bad if you were standing still, but navigating from point A to point B was a bit tricky. I hate separating in a crowd like that but finally had to take off for the restrooms--which meant crossing Charles St in which runners were lining up already--and I feared that I would get stuck in the lines for way too long and either miss the start or not find Alan again before the race or both. As it turned out, by walking down the row of port-a-potties I found a middle section that was pretty much line-free and I got in and out of there quickly. Everyone was really very nice and because it was getting close to the start anyone trying to really race was well out of the way, so it was just a big party of generally happy, excited women. I got back to the road and found the gang about where I'd left them. I did some last minute "I need x out of my bag" and "wait, I don't need this; take it!" and so the backpack I was living out of got pulled out of the stroller and put back in a few times [sometimes I miss having a stroller...]. Finally, I decided I was ready and I stood in the road, enjoying the jubilant pre-race crowd: thousands of women all decked out in their finest 80+ degree running garb, some with wacky costumes, some with messages on their shirts, some with lots of skin and hard abs, some with lots of skin and not-so-hard abs...<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlcn-6GgIWsmXzkdYrkRiEz-PTRMJbHQli3XPTbI7B5m5NqweC5d_T2MylwBV-kMKEoDFz0UuoanXdnIj46p_BuDJwYU8TMdXTVYvhMaBoT9uKm50P-KM1o_o-8pr7AEZjDQ0JcQL-853/s1600/Nancy+at+Tufts+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKlcn-6GgIWsmXzkdYrkRiEz-PTRMJbHQli3XPTbI7B5m5NqweC5d_T2MylwBV-kMKEoDFz0UuoanXdnIj46p_BuDJwYU8TMdXTVYvhMaBoT9uKm50P-KM1o_o-8pr7AEZjDQ0JcQL-853/s1600/Nancy+at+Tufts+2011.jpg" height="178" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in a sea of people-looking-the-other-way.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
I was glad not to be messing with my mp3--I love to take in the sights and sounds and needed all my senses to navigate around people once I was actually running. I had my phone with me and kept pulling it out to take pictures; eventually I just quit bothering to put it back in my pocket until the last stretch. Alan took some waiting-in-the-sea-of-runners shots and I tried half-heartedly to stretch a little. There was a lot of music and announcements constantly streaming over these giant loudspeakers the whole time and it was kind of hard to know exactly when the race began. The speakers were on staging before the turn onto Beacon St so I had the (false) impression that that was where the starting line was. The announcer would say things like "RAISE YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR IF YOU'RE A FIRST-TIME TUFTS RUNNER!!!" and a bunch of us would even though we were way far away from the start. And then she'd say "SMILE FOR THE CAMERAS, LADIES! THIS IS YOUR MOMENT!!" and as we got to those speakers I was smiling and looking around and thinking "Wow, I have really no idea what I'm doing." Finally, we turned the corner and I could SEE staging, and the arch over the starting line ahead of us, and more speakers, and off to the left there was a platform and bleachers and a bunch of officials and media personnel and cameras and I was like, Oh, I actually get to start the race, now! This worked well, because I had been doing a light walk-jog to get to this point and now the crowd very smoothly stretched out and there was enough space and momentum to actually start running. <br />
<br />
I enjoyed the run immensely. Almost the whole time there was something interesting and exciting to look at and there were people to navigate around constantly except for maybe one stretch. As we headed over the bridge toward Cambridge, the leaders were already coming BACK over the bridge so we--the enthusiastic back-of-the-packers--cheered and whooped and took pictures of those incredibly fast women, one of whom was very close to winning Tufts the day after winning the BAA Half while we were just getting warmed up. Water stops were crazy busy crowded but frequent and I was in no hurry and it was really hot so I didn't mind 'pulling over' to hydrate.<br />
<br />
Really,it was too hot for this time of year, but it made the views spectacular. There was a stretch in Cambridge that felt like lonely desert so I was happy to get back on the bridge. Commonwealth Ave was fun and friendly and feeling like the home stretch, I spotted Alan at the turn that starts the last loop around the park but lost him immediately after. I assumed he crossed the park in time to see my finish. I know I am slow but the finish is one of those times when I allow myself to feel more athletic than I am. "Start Strong. Finish Stronger." is the race motto and I was feeling it, loving it. Coming down Charles Street, which was much less crowded by this time, I saw Joan Benoit Samuelson--my hero!--standing smack in the middle of the finish line, smiling and slappin' high fives and celebrating women of all shapes and sizes and abilities. I steered myself right next to her, enjoyed that moment when I hit the mat, and got my high five thinking THAT will be a finish line photo I'll actually pay for! I hoped Alan had a clear shot, too. And then I was herded along with the other cattle into a long, uphill finish line chute, handed my warm energy drink and pointed toward tables once full of food, now pitifully bereft of anything more than boxes of pretzel sticks. What I really wanted was ice water and a shower.<br />
<br />
I was anxious to find Alan, Kathy & kids, and a good friend from Mt. Holyoke who's living in Boston and arranged to meet up with my "crew" during the race, but I was also desperate for the restroom. I texted Alan that I was bolting for the potties and he replied back "Wait, what? Are you done?" and thus discovered that he not only didn't get a picture of my finish, he didn't see it at all! I met up with them and gave poor Cecilia--elegant as ever--a disgustingly sweaty hug looking and feeling a little different than I did the last time we saw each other, 18 years and 1 day earlier, at our wedding. Then I bolted to a handicapped accessible (read: large sized) port-a-potty to pee, contemplate barfing, and take a baby wipes sponge bath and change into something less sticky. I still felt really gross, though, in pretty much every sense. I couldn't handle whatever the jug-o-warm-energy-drink was, and I was afraid to sit down again (the potty was OK, but I didn't think I'd get back up off the ground). The Common was almost like a fair with several vendors scattered around. I said "I need a snow cone. Preferably red. Or blue. Or whatever." and someone kindly got me one. I started to feel better after that. Then, even though traipsing around Boston all gross and sweaty and shaky and tired was kind of the last thing I wanted to do, I was bound and determined to get to Mike's Pastry Shop for a cannoli. So we headed off along the Freedom Trail and stopped at Fanueil Hall for lunch, 'cause we realized we needed something real before dessert. I had recently read Joan Benoit Samuelson's first book "Running Tide" in which she talks about being totally useless (my word, not hers) before a race: her husband was often the one making sure she had the right shoes, socks, fuel, etc. With me, it's after. I'm a mess. But I want very specific things and I'm cranky if I don't get them. I need to do a better job of planning things ahead. What we should have done in Boston is found a place for a good, comfortable sit-down meal where we could relax and visit. Or packed a picnic lunch with really good food....but we were in the midst of traveling and doing things on the fly and on the cheap. So I had a mediocre lunch and we parted company with Kathy & the kids who needed to wend their way home from Fanueil Market.<br />
<br />
Visiting with Cecilia along the way, we eventually did get TO Mike's Pastry Shop, but the line was out the door and up the block and we literally did not have enough time to get in and make our train back to New Hampshire. As I gazed at the line and realized the futility of the situation, I wasn't overly upset because we were right next to a really good place for gelato which was also crowded but not as bad as Mike's and gelato was really much better for me than a heavy giant cannoli would have been anyway.<br />
<br />
Cecilia walked us back to North Station, we said our goodbyes and promised to keep in touch better. We checked with lost & found--no debit card--and then we reversed our journey: the Downeaster back to our car in Exeter, and then the drive home. It was nice that Alan didn't have to drive the whole way and we enjoyed the journey. It was a great weekend overall--although a bit on the sticky side--and I definitely want to go back and do Tufts again, hopefully next time with some girl friends. But definitely with the ability to shower afterwards! <br />
<br />
Oh, and the finish line punch line? The professional photographer got a great shot of me high-fiving....the edge of the picture. Joanie isn't in the shot at all!!!! Aaaaaaaahg!! Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-57478104604386871622013-10-14T08:01:00.000-04:002013-10-14T08:01:04.484-04:00Green Mountain Marathon report, Part 3<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And now for Part 3 of </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The Really Long-Winded [pun intended] Race Report:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>(inexplicably being posted exactly one year after the fact. Sorry!</b></i><i><b>)</b></i><br />
<div>
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Miles 19-26.2</b><br />
I caught up with Alan somewhere around 18 or 19 miles in. I was a little concerned that if he was slow enough for me to catch up, he must be in bad shape, but I was craving the company and tired of chasing him. Once he knew I wasn't planning to blow past him (as if I could!), he was happy to have company, too. By now, the wind was constant and cold and always against us.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKgwnBT4J9isLVhTubUXj3LIkap20TazNgWO5KGbyvNut8TjOArrIbhsCjyXdI4x4DUd7aSbV0yO3iDpqGm8VEPuVrjV2rmFffMKkx0QoXtuYFIpsFXuqqtX9Ajt_zgGiSbRY_-dqV5f5I/s1600/DSCF1020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKgwnBT4J9isLVhTubUXj3LIkap20TazNgWO5KGbyvNut8TjOArrIbhsCjyXdI4x4DUd7aSbV0yO3iDpqGm8VEPuVrjV2rmFffMKkx0QoXtuYFIpsFXuqqtX9Ajt_zgGiSbRY_-dqV5f5I/s320/DSCF1020.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333015441895px;">Hard to see, but this is a "kite-surfer', alternately riding the waves and hanging on the wind. <br />
We were like, "What the ?@#&*%?!?!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5aIaYQrWl4E1CJ24wNfSRxkSF_74KbFDh62Ty_Gh5VLHT4cx3xNw9BDwyCYrFnoZzefCiSf45QXm4uigwfe_8HEc1JigNUu9okLIskLS7rl-LjeL_W10A4VBFgprRVbHMINtWACL8rbA/s1600/DSCF1012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5aIaYQrWl4E1CJ24wNfSRxkSF_74KbFDh62Ty_Gh5VLHT4cx3xNw9BDwyCYrFnoZzefCiSf45QXm4uigwfe_8HEc1JigNUu9okLIskLS7rl-LjeL_W10A4VBFgprRVbHMINtWACL8rbA/s320/DSCF1012.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333015441895px;">Do you SEE Madeline's hair whipping in the wind?! </td></tr>
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From then on, it was a joint effort of power-walking into the wind, swearing at its bitterness, and encouraging each other to jog little bits here and there to boost our over-all pace in order to beat that 6 hour goal. And thanks to Alan's garmin we had a really good idea of exactly how close a finish it would be. We were well-matched; neither one dragging the other down, each of us pushing in turn. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUrqeayOhuflk1Nok7FnFtUsOguClAifEcA2edaSozhr-hMb0Nfo7tjqLjtiaK-ZLEGGbI-sGcBPU5FJjE_cII1a5sjLhyNFQ1lGis8V7EFjFf5CBgT1KMmqjtWf6bcUzsr3-pXnFv2_Q/s1600/DSCF1010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUrqeayOhuflk1Nok7FnFtUsOguClAifEcA2edaSozhr-hMb0Nfo7tjqLjtiaK-ZLEGGbI-sGcBPU5FJjE_cII1a5sjLhyNFQ1lGis8V7EFjFf5CBgT1KMmqjtWf6bcUzsr3-pXnFv2_Q/s320/DSCF1010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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At the end we were both exhausted and in pain and could barely run at all but attempting to "sprint" to beat the clock. We actually saw it flip to 6:00:01 before we crossed which was disheartening but neither of us could have pushed it any more than we did. As it turned out, the clock was a little off and our official times--both net and gun--were just under 6 hours.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyKzRVizEPGkTHKLbRbkg2XZQzAheoURrad-8HDx9hDrqiRk_2RORnB8nlrenB_V1XkiaD35eAHH1pgTnM977KJvh_xvFrJIhxmrmOnLa50MPX0ySqdpOwCMhdNwOLMxfNkwvRtB9qgAw/s1600/DSCF1035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyKzRVizEPGkTHKLbRbkg2XZQzAheoURrad-8HDx9hDrqiRk_2RORnB8nlrenB_V1XkiaD35eAHH1pgTnM977KJvh_xvFrJIhxmrmOnLa50MPX0ySqdpOwCMhdNwOLMxfNkwvRtB9qgAw/s320/DSCF1035.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<b>Post-race</b><br />
Later, I really wished we'd gone inside to greet and thank all those awesome volunteers, but after we crossed the finish line, and got our medals, and a nice person with clippers removed our chips from our sneakers, and we hugged our family and posed for pictures, I looked straight ahead and there was our car in the parking lot and I just started limping toward it. I sat down (easy) and hauled my legs up into the van (not easy) and said "ok, let's go". Rich drove the two of us and Sam (who conked out in the car) back to the house, while Helen and our kids went to Al's (a fast-food joint, what is it with that name?) to pick up burgers and fries and milkshakes for all. At the house, I was able to function long enough to go downstairs, get clean clothes, climb back upstairs, shower and dress, and then sit down to eat. The shake and fries went down easy but about a third of the way into my cheeseburger (with bacon*) I just kind of shut down. I announced that I was done and went downstairs to crash.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Random thoughts on how it feels now:</span><br />
You know those signs people sometimes hold up that say "By tomorrow, you'll think this was fun"? I kinda get that. I might just amend it to "By next weekend...".<br />
Even the very next day, I felt pretty good, all things considered. When I wasn't climbing stairs. Or walking. Or holding up anything more than my own head. And even that seemed abnormally heavy.<br />
We both came out of the race with no blisters, but my big toes were really swollen, and still feel bruise-y.<br />
Mostly, though, I feel really proud and happy. I'm glad that I toughed it out, and feel very fortunate that everything worked out as well as it did.<br />
A week later, people were still asking me, "how do you feel?" Some people meant "Are you in pain?" and others were asking "How does it feel to be a marathoner?" For the last 10k or so, my legs hurt. My feet hurt. Even my back hurt. And my muscles were sore the next couple of days. But I never experienced dehydration. Mostly, I experienced extreme tiredness that lasted a good 6 days.<br />
<br />
I'm also really grateful to all who helped us out:<br />
~Helen, Rich & Sam for hosting us all weekend, chauffeuring, feeding, housing us and for doing the whole race support crew thing all day with two of our kids and yucky weather;<br />
~Alan, for believing in me all along and pushing me to do more than I think I can;<br />
~Nana Mary who stayed home with James and Mum & Dad who brought us dinner and custom-decorated balloons the night we came home and for all the other times they've provided race support and childcare.<br />
<br />
<br />
*Our friend Anne-Marie (reputedly a former vegetarian who came back for bacon) had a pre-marathon anxiety dream on our behalf in which she attempted to make us breakfast but only cooked 5 slices of bacon for 10 people, got annoyed with herself, and went back to bed! In her honor, I made every effort to alleviate any real or perceived bacon deficit throughout the weekend.<br />
<br />Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-43097772928393020402012-10-22T22:27:00.003-04:002012-10-22T22:27:43.382-04:00Green Mountain Marathon, Part 2<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />And now for Part 2 of </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The Really Long-Winded [pun intended] Race Report:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>(probably of interest only to other runners, but too bad, Mom, you have to read it anyway)</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEU7X2GdtqeYbriZ3S-fbxna1k5cUZ1glhRqiuPDBJGQRZvbuGhYUHfpW01QZ_67GaMBXlOu_PEYao6Y4LpTLIdtmahdhMiH4dE2w7S-t011Z4biNJsWgaiE8lxAYTF6tkbO2H5LRaYM7/s1600/DSCF0993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUEU7X2GdtqeYbriZ3S-fbxna1k5cUZ1glhRqiuPDBJGQRZvbuGhYUHfpW01QZ_67GaMBXlOu_PEYao6Y4LpTLIdtmahdhMiH4dE2w7S-t011Z4biNJsWgaiE8lxAYTF6tkbO2H5LRaYM7/s320/DSCF0993.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First meet-up with our support crew, around mile 6: we're still together and surrounded by other runners (half marathoners are passing us in the other direction).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Miles 8-13</b><br />
We didn't see our crew at the second meet-up (around mile 10) but I was so jazzed by the scenic course and the runners passing me on their way back and the awesome volunteers that I barely even noticed. There was even a little band of 3 people by a B&B playing pots & pans and a gong. It was fun and there were still people coming toward me and we were smiling and waving at each other and sharing words of encouragement. It wasn't until we passed several other spots where the gang could have been but wasn't, and I started to catch up to Alan, that I got concerned because I suspected he was relying on them more for supplies than I was. I realize now that this is also when the bulk of the other marathoners were done passing us on their return trip. After a couple texts and a breathy phone call to Madeline, I determined that the gang had gotten confused: they thought they had missed us at 10 miles and therefore headed to the turn-around point. I instructed them to STAY THERE and then caught up with Alan to assure him his supplies were less than a mile away. I had passed mile 12 at 17 minutes ahead of pace and still felt pretty good. We had another check-in from Al, the friendly "sweep" who had been following at a respectful distance so he and Alan got introduced. We met up with Helen et al, grabbed what we needed, made a U-turn and crossed the mats at the halfway mark. Helen would only confirm that I was 5 minutes ahead of pace, which momentarily confused me but I realized soon after leaving her that she was looking at Alan's pacing strategy, not mine.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGC6dWXULHWNLUpPKyB3u9eCfy5_lWgkoejGxvLXrq8kVvetEMjWpdeg9LEJALWot_xh29nVaYMENYZebc-lnO0dY-KGNCUOOKnn5Ag3lfC7MbWTlLNe9Vc4ZpDCGsSPHipvQlbplfSPEJ/s1600/DSCF0994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGC6dWXULHWNLUpPKyB3u9eCfy5_lWgkoejGxvLXrq8kVvetEMjWpdeg9LEJALWot_xh29nVaYMENYZebc-lnO0dY-KGNCUOOKnn5Ag3lfC7MbWTlLNe9Vc4ZpDCGsSPHipvQlbplfSPEJ/s320/DSCF0994.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan and Al on opposite sides of the U-turn (13.1 mark in the background)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JoIot5VxIlDRMw_9Jm6tdN6NUmkyxHLoCUCSOJbx69FDOAafMwB4I7MFhjenjKv0NXk3EKWUAmjBpxp1tvmibYOVd8_M694nmu7ttZb5v9XKjZ3vqvTq7gIZXPrVvu6PCQfNjLEud_gj/s1600/DSCF0988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JoIot5VxIlDRMw_9Jm6tdN6NUmkyxHLoCUCSOJbx69FDOAafMwB4I7MFhjenjKv0NXk3EKWUAmjBpxp1tvmibYOVd8_M694nmu7ttZb5v9XKjZ3vqvTq7gIZXPrVvu6PCQfNjLEud_gj/s320/DSCF0988.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam (how cute is she?!), Jeremy, Madeline, and Rich showing their support<br />
(Helen should be in this but she's the one who took the pictures)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Miles 13-15</b><br />
I confirmed my pace at the next mile marker and felt immediately better, but I was already starting to slow down and the necessary stop at a port-a-potty lopped a chunk off my lead. It was right next to a water stop and the volunteers all cheered for me AND for Al before amiably packing things up. Al rode next to me for a bit when I started running again. I think this was the last time I started running after a stop without consciously telling myself to run, not walk. I passed the B&B band again but it was sort of ethereal this time because it was just them and me and the wind and a nice downhill stretch that I was not able to fully take advantage of. I knew I was slowing down, but I concentrated on keeping my walking to a minimum, and remembering to fuel on schedule.<br />
<br />
<b>Miles 15-19</b><br />
With the rest of the runners out of the way, the gang had an easier time meeting up with us. They would park somewhere, wait for us, scream, cheer, snap photos, and give us supplies, then pull ahead a couple miles to another convenient spot along the way.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6RO1omPSSjXJ-ptu4NsAy-KXGgdwiom2zNKBdguU-J93MgIOYBmmsNZrvrUf8jVQSCouS_VvpTRMtFjgSWaKg0jkhUqMy13pPEtwweclEHNzez-KCUFedTk2zTIRLocfAZqCZ_E-TxXk/s1600/DSCF0999.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW6RO1omPSSjXJ-ptu4NsAy-KXGgdwiom2zNKBdguU-J93MgIOYBmmsNZrvrUf8jVQSCouS_VvpTRMtFjgSWaKg0jkhUqMy13pPEtwweclEHNzez-KCUFedTk2zTIRLocfAZqCZ_E-TxXk/s320/DSCF0999.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How can you not be motivated by this?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The kids all had posters which got progressively more colorful every time we saw them. My childhood nickname was NESsie (as in the famous Scottish monster, similar to "Champ" who is rumored to occupy Lake Champlain) so, naturally, there were sea monsters. Alan, AKA"Big Red" was portrayed as a very cool cartoon character. And Sam's sign read "GO ZIPPY BANANAFANNY!" referencing a certain Captain Underpants book in which Professor Poopypants plots to change everyone's name. According to the chart, we become the Bananafanny family and ironically, my name becomes "Zippy". I can't remember what Alan's is supposed to be, but I've dubbed him "Squeaky" because for the first mile or so I thought some very enthusiastic squirrel was cheering for us but it turned out to be his knee sleeves rubbing together.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>TO BE CONTINUED</b><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-90667722830712761972012-10-20T21:46:00.002-04:002012-10-22T21:21:02.245-04:00Green Mountain Marathon, Part 1<span style="font-size: large;"><b>We did it, folks: Alan's second and my first ever marathon!</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The facts:</span><br />
We finished!<br />
No, really: we both finished! (even though my name was missing from the preliminary results at first!)<br />
We finished together (not quite what Alan had in mind, but it was nice to have company the last 8 miles or so).<br />
We finished in under 6 hours...<i><b>barely</b></i>.<br />
The race organizers and volunteers were awesome, as were all our family members who pitched in to make the whole weekend happen for us.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And now for Part 1 of </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The Really Long-Winded [pun intended] Race Report:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>(probably of interest only to other runners, but too bad, Mom, you have to read it anyway)</b></i></div>
<br />
<b>Pre-race</b><br />
Friday, we yanked Madeline and Jeremy out of school at noon (James stayed home with Nana Mary because he had a X-Country meet on Saturday) and drove to Vermont. The trip was uneventful except for the flurries we encountered in Bethlehem, NH. Actual white on the White Mountains kinda freaked out these runners a little. Saturday, we had a lovely breakfast (including bacon*) and then we all went into Burlington to pick up our race packets and shop a little before splitting up. Rich stayed home to hang out with the kids while Helen and Alan and I went to the island to drive the course. The weather was gorgeous and the colors were still largely brilliant and the whole area was incredibly picturesque. There were farms and vineyards and cabins and estates. We saw cows and horses, geese and ducks, sheep and pigs, and hunters with elaborate blinds and decoys. On one stretch of the course there's a veritable city of brightly painted birdhouses. On another stretch there's an entire field of "farm fresh fuel"--sunflowers gone by now, but how brilliant they must have been in full bloom! After getting a thorough understanding of the roads on and around the course, we headed back down to S. Burlington for our pre-race breakfast-for-dinner at Denny's (with more bacon, of course). <br />
<br />
<b>Race day</b><br />
Sunday morning we got up early and got on the road only a little behind schedule. Getting there was easy since we knew where we were going. The main parking lot was full so we were directed a little ways up the road, to a farm stand/petting zoo. It was cold and windy in an exhilarating, crowd-bonding kind of way. Everyone was hopping around like they had to pee. Of course, people do that anyway in the porta-potty line, which is where we were once we arrived until about 10 minutes before the start. Sadly, while waiting in line, we noticed two very small, very pink, very dead animals on the ground that made me sad and were kinda freaking out a couple girls behind us. I picked them up with a a large leaf (and wearing gloves) and deposited them next to a fence. A man who worked there (who called Willy, the donkey, for his breakfast, eliciting a loud bray, and got a kiss from him) told me they were newborn bunnies and said something about how they let the rabbits out to roam.... I didn't catch whether the dead bunnies were an unwanted side-effect or population control. Alan cared only that he now has proof that I'm perfectly capable of removing dead rodents from our house. Helen and co arrived just as we got to the front of the line and dutifully started photo-documenting. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vggS7kixERhRVyAr2RffWm-ZfLjMsRq-aR_A4O4_TZwBi9ckMoiBCogKafI7MXEJ8myny7EpDukYBsBkAkr-UlOcXlogBgtfnE2de4jmfFbcSmfK4V6Zfqmk6wwAgQ3wteaE4DjwNX3o/s1600/DSCF0979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vggS7kixERhRVyAr2RffWm-ZfLjMsRq-aR_A4O4_TZwBi9ckMoiBCogKafI7MXEJ8myny7EpDukYBsBkAkr-UlOcXlogBgtfnE2de4jmfFbcSmfK4V6Zfqmk6wwAgQ3wteaE4DjwNX3o/s320/DSCF0979.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">post-potty, but pre-race: ready to go!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Miles 0-3</b><br />
At the start, Alan and I positioned ourselves about 3/4 of the way back in the crowd, tried to shake off the nerves, shared a kiss, and we were off! Helen thought we'd be all the way at the back so she kinda missed us with the camera. We chatted a bit through the first mile, mostly commenting on some interesting wardrobe choices [I really wish I had a picture of the two gals in matching running tights that were so unfortunately unattractive (the pants, not the gals). Not only were they thin enough that one lady's polka-dot underwear showed through, but the seams--white stitching on black pants--made a design that is best described as the pictorial version of "place panty-shield here". We also noted that, clearly, a lot of people didn't get their chance at the porta-potties at the start, because every now and then someone would suddenly turn 90 degrees right or left to make a beeline for a random potty. Or tree. Or--in at least two cases--to "water the corn stalks". Actual fact turned new euphemism. [No Mom, this isn't the type of thing I'm usually referring to when I say that "runners enjoy a special, close-knit community", although it does seem to apply...].<br />
<br />
<b>Miles 3-8</b><br />
During the first third of the race I felt really good. The air was brisk but the wind was mostly behind us and I was dressed appropriately; I kept a good pace. I had a laminated pacing sheet with me, tied to my belt pouch so I wouldn't lose it, that I dutifully referenced at every mile. I'd consult my watch as I passed the marker, then compare the number to the one on my chart. I had mapped it all out for a 13:30 pace the whole way which would get me to the finish in a little under 6 hours. My strategy--which I shared with the nice fellow on the bicycle assigned to bring up the rear--was to be as much ahead of pace as possible through 15 miles or so, "banking' whatever time I could before dipping into it when my pace started to crash later. The early miles were more like 11s so my plan was working well. I even pulled ahead of Alan briefly on a nice downhill stretch that was just too good to pass up (and I knew he'd catch up on my next walking/snack break). My chart also had the locations where "the gang" (my sister, brother-in-law, niece, and Jeremy & Madeline) was going to be meeting us and notes about when I should be fueling (every 40 minutes). My mood was great and I enjoyed the scenery (in spite of weather that markedly dampened the landscape), and the people. I had 6 hours of music on my mp3, but the race technically didn't allow headphones and I wasn't really missing it, so I kept it in my belt pouch, figuring I would pull it out later, when things got lonely and I needed motivation.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>TO BE CONTINUED...</b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuHlw5DmxZqITHdmaAGd-ZXPkAnZ7zX_WVqbyCRCul0mOpRs0DzHalQrAxGN6xFOSma2YU5Md2TlPC7xMlL6YHz-pRDSsPGaW6Srkc3NMlIE9LrzbLrQDkbavb6l1w3TlQFRWTh_7hdn3/s1600/DSCF1018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuHlw5DmxZqITHdmaAGd-ZXPkAnZ7zX_WVqbyCRCul0mOpRs0DzHalQrAxGN6xFOSma2YU5Md2TlPC7xMlL6YHz-pRDSsPGaW6Srkc3NMlIE9LrzbLrQDkbavb6l1w3TlQFRWTh_7hdn3/s320/DSCF1018.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The prettiest housing development ever.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
*Our friend Anne-Marie (reputedly a former vegetarian who came back for bacon) had a pre-marathon anxiety dream on our behalf in which she attempted to make us breakfast but only cooked 5 slices of bacon for 10 people, got annoyed with herself, and went back to bed! In her honor, I made every effort to alleviate any real or perceived bacon deficit throughout the weekend.</div>
<br />
<br />Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-41053385724727602502012-09-09T22:58:00.000-04:002012-09-09T23:01:46.043-04:00Let's Pretend This Has Been Happening All Along<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I haven't blogged in ages, but instead of trying to catch up or make lame excuses, I'm just going to reference <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lets-Pretend-This-Never-Happened/dp/0399159010/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347240548&sr=8-1&keywords=let%27s+pretend+this+never+happened" target="_blank">this book made of Awesome</a> by Jenny Lawson (aka <a href="http://thebloggess.com/" target="_blank">The Bloggess</a>) and move on. You need to read her (as long as you're not at work and won't be offended by prevalent use of the f-word. And aren't drinking something you don't want to come out your nose. Seriously. Don't blame me if that Margarita stings on the way out. Did you check out her blog yet? I doubt it because if you did you probably didn't bother to come back here. Or if you did, it's a month later and you suddenly remembered who you have to thank for exposing you to Jenny's wacky, thinky, dark humor. Either way, I hope you ordered her book. And another margarita.).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8s_O87O2KzizHsZhsIF28cGDYlj3_u-O8YLH0jLxhJ8-0WXZo5wOXJLHf2lHzJ2TPHrnehtAOxQXtr7YXRS-9DWP3dRVCNsRnbZGn0rg62yxTHpuL9CtP-trbY7C8_o6BLEmW-xTHBIEu/s1600/Fortified+with+Iron.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8s_O87O2KzizHsZhsIF28cGDYlj3_u-O8YLH0jLxhJ8-0WXZo5wOXJLHf2lHzJ2TPHrnehtAOxQXtr7YXRS-9DWP3dRVCNsRnbZGn0rg62yxTHpuL9CtP-trbY7C8_o6BLEmW-xTHBIEu/s320/Fortified+with+Iron.png" width="320" /></a></div>
So I finally met my new primary care physician (to whom I was assigned when my previous one left the practice like, I dunno...a year ago??) and had a long-overdue physical. [Wow, you are so clicking on the Bloggess' link again aren't you? Totally don't blame you.] my new doctor is nice, seemed attentive, and was delighted to have an easy patient (Smoker? No. Diabetes? No. Hallucinations involving giant rabbits? No. And so on...). She's not a runner so she didn't have much to say for or against the marathon I'm supposed to be training for [more on that later]. I did mention that I was pretty sure my iron was low again so she sent me to the lab and said she might call in a couple days if anything showed up. <br />
I think I was first on the call list the next morning.<br />
I imagine the answering machine message was something to the effect of<br />
<i><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Your iron is extremely low. Like, REALLY low. Like, maybe you're not answering the phone because you fainted. So...start popping iron pills like candy,OK? Now please. Or as soon as you're done fainting. Whichever's easier. Maybe snack on an iron bar or two between meals? Tell us how that goes." </span></b></i><br />
I'm sure it was just like that.<br />
<br />
So I'm back on iron pills 3 times a day (with meals, 'cause I've learned the hard way that taking them on an empty stomach with an OJ chaser--as recommended by the medical professionals/lab nerds who never have to follow their own advice--is really not worthwhile since it induces massive stomach pains) and hoping this will magically make me live up to my <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Captain-Underpants-Terrifying-Return-Tinkletrousers/dp/0545175348/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1347242713&sr=1-1&keywords=captain+underpants+and+the+terrifying+return+of+tippy+tinkletrousers" target="_blank">Captain Underpants</a> nickname: <br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Using the first letter of your first name:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>N = "Zippy" </b></span><br />
<br />
[Do I have to tell them that our last name is "Bananafanny"? No? Oh good. Thanks.]<br />
<br />
Because I need some zip in order to finish 26.2 miles in under 6 hours. See, since I've been blogging about this all summer (see title of this post), you know that Alan and I are planning to run the <a href="http://gmaa.net/schedule.php?raceid=GMM2012" target="_blank">Green Mountain Marathon</a> in October. Yeah, I still can't believe I might actually do this. Then again, since some of my training runs have been about as substantial as my summer blog posts, I might not.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRvYUjHoDhEojeOw3dVbJBcgvihl3wV4stqpwqQVkKpXVsFngFTKAYZzAWRBqOHHus_mdlykkO1bJP9GLpwvzgUkw2LC_PJBDAKq1d4nE4LEu4CgNXasJy588bBoH_EOqa57yTOO3TXc0/s1600/GMAA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRvYUjHoDhEojeOw3dVbJBcgvihl3wV4stqpwqQVkKpXVsFngFTKAYZzAWRBqOHHus_mdlykkO1bJP9GLpwvzgUkw2LC_PJBDAKq1d4nE4LEu4CgNXasJy588bBoH_EOqa57yTOO3TXc0/s1600/GMAA.jpg" /></a></div>
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Here's the thing: I'm behind on my training runs--the longest I've managed is 15 miles--and I've done pathetically little cross-training. Alan's behind too but I'm confident he'll do fine. So we've been waffling a bit and hadn't actually registered until last night when Alan looked online and determined that registration is capped at 700 and they were at 686. Yikes! Time to commit! There's a Full marathon, and a Half, and they allow you to switch from one to the other up until about a week out (for a fee). This has been my safety net all along; I knew I could drop down to the half. But then we did the math and I ended up registering for the half with the option to bump <b><i>up </i></b>if I feel I can handle it. I don't mind spending more to do the real deal, but it would just add insult to injury to pay extra to wimp out. I haven't given up yet, but I really need to stay on target for the next five weeks.<br />
That didn't come out right. I meant to say<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>ONLY FIVE WEEKS!</b></span></div>
<br />
Holy bananafannies! So here's the plan:<br />
<br />
MDI Half Marathon next Saturday [remember when THAT was a huge big deal? The thing is, it won't be as easy as it should be at this late stage...]<br />
18 and 20 mile runs the following two weekends (simple, right?)<br />
Eat my Wheaties.<br />
<br />
I also need to keep my job and keep on top of all the kids' extra-curriculars and keep taking my iron pills and keep running my lines for the play I'm in later this month....<br />
<br />
Oh yeah: and keep blogging. Which shouldn't be hard 'cause I've been doing that all along, of course.<br />
<br />
<br />Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-51624408749252420232012-02-25T00:26:00.000-05:002012-02-25T00:26:29.148-05:00Good Intentions Do Not Keep a Blog Going But I'm Trying To Make Up For That A Little By Finally Posting This Recipe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Just in case you didn't notice, I've been super lame about blogging. As in, I haven't. Since October. Wow, that is really pathetic. Oddly enough, <i>wanting </i>to blog, <i>meaning </i>to blog, and <i>composing blog posts in my head</i> are all things that are helpful to a blogger, but do not in fact necessarily result in any actually blogging. Who knew?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I've taken another inadvertent hiatus with no dramatic reasons behind it. The Marks family is doing fine and keeping busy as usual. It's just been the same old underlying problem of not actually scheduling time to blog. Plus, we don't have any good pictures of anything since October 2nd. Wasn't that the day Alan ran his first ever full marathon? you ask. Why yes it was! It also rained. A lot. And the camera got wet. A lot. And it died. Just once, but very thoroughly. So we've been limited to whatever our phones can capture and that makes me unexcited about documenting events because the pix are just lame (mostly because there's a tangible delay between when you hit the little shutter icon and when the fake shutter sound--and the actual taking of the picture--occurs) and not having good pictures has made me unexcited about blogging.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But never mind that for now.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For Lent, I have promised myself that I will complete some sort of correspondence every day (and also that I will not eat fast food for lunch but that's another post altogether, mostly about the fact that I am <b>not </b>giving up Coke this year. Go ahead: call me a wuss, but I think I'm doing my family a favor). So far, I have written one long-overdue thank you note and composed an article for a newsletter. Today I am blogging. [And by "today" I mean Friday even though it's technically Saturday because it is now after midnight(!).]</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, here is my recipe for Homemade Granola Bars that I promised I would pass along to several people, but particularly Anne-Marie at <a href="http://greenishmonkeys.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Green(ish) Monkeys</a>. These hearty snacks debuted officially at last year's MDI 10k and fun run and a picnic afterward which our two families enjoyed together. This is my favorite healthy-ish food and four-fifths of our family* loves them, particularly when hiking or before and after road races. I could eat them all day. Nut-free versions have been endorsed (by virtue of practically being inhaled) by the Orono Middle School Field Hockey team and the Cheerleading squad. Here's James showing his approval at MDI. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiAOKwFF7MZUtXUo_lIwhdwMpNLa_QPUlTs79WBsh_lwPTIBQlmepQ43CVdKWmiSiUjaSS_XFh7BerAcFtlr7lEMEPze1wB7ypKlyGjQSDno6TEN7jdTIWOJUzi7HysTqvm9J8Y6zlDMQj/s1600/DSC02569.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiAOKwFF7MZUtXUo_lIwhdwMpNLa_QPUlTs79WBsh_lwPTIBQlmepQ43CVdKWmiSiUjaSS_XFh7BerAcFtlr7lEMEPze1wB7ypKlyGjQSDno6TEN7jdTIWOJUzi7HysTqvm9J8Y6zlDMQj/s320/DSC02569.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">*Alan doesn't "do" oatmeal. Or nuts. Or dried cherries. And definitely not wheat germ. Oy!</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><b>Nancy's Homemade Granola Bars</b></span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">Recipe adapted from several I found online and my personal penchant for combining almonds, dark chocolate and dried cherries. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">2 cups oats</div><span style="text-align: left;">1 cup crushed Cheerios (this started because I had a bunch that were stale and I thought it was a good way to use them up, but I liked it so I keep putting them in) </span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">3/4 cup chopped almonds (I usually use unsalted)</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">1/2 teaspoon kosher salt</div><span style="text-align: left;">3/4 cup honey crunch wheat germ</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">2/3 cup brown sugar</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">1/2 cup honey</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">4 tablespoons butter</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">2 teaspoons vanilla</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">a handful of dried cherries, chopped </span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">chocolate chips/chopped chocolate, to taste</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">1. Mix the first four dry ingredients together, spread on a baking pan and toast lightly in the oven. Add the wheat germ after toasting because it tends to burn. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Note: Don't let the dry ingredients burn. And if you do, don't use it anyway because you'll still taste the burny parts even if you add orange-flavored chocolate you got for Christmas and that's just a big ol' waste of good chocolate. In fact, I'm not entirely sure this whole toasting step is necessary.... </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">2. Meanwhile, combine the sugar, honey, butter and vanilla in a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Remove from heat.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">3. Mix everything together in a large bowl, adding the chocolate last. Pour mixture into a greased 9 x 13 pan. Cover with a piece of parchment paper and press flat into pan (I use a small cutting board to make it very smooth). Allow to cool before cutting into bars or square.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Of course you can play with the ingredients all you want. I usually use a combination of dark and milk chocolate. The orange-flavored stuff would have been great if it weren't for the whole burned wheat germ thing. I have plans to try white chocolate, pecans, coconut, peanut butter, orange zest, etc. Skip the nuts when sending to school functions (ours has a nut-free policy, but it's good to err on the side of caution anyway). </div><span style="text-align: left;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">Enjoy!</span><br />
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</span><br />
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</div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-41354674961410594282011-11-05T20:10:00.001-04:002011-11-05T20:15:04.727-04:00Race Report: Great Island 5kFor our anniversary weekend, Alan and I took a little road trip. Well, first we delivered the kids to Nana Mary's house up in Milo [Thanks-have fun-see ya!], then we turned around and drove south. It was a perfect fall day and we enjoyed the drive. We found our hotel in Kittery pretty easily and scooted right on over to Portsmouth, NH, where we managed to navigate to Runner's Alley to window shop a bit before remembering-the-hard-way how to get onto the little island that is home to Newcastle,NH. Once we found the right causeway, though, it all came back to us and we wandered around the lovely park a bit and took some pictures before hitting packet pickup.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3bbiLHnLdObmPdtJGMWan8178fW3raHAQeRdsJopZVqJCy2BIHIcuKBdrHlYdk7t-FJdTXXcwfEdjIVeerVhrwEbAyQjKkquBY_GOj715RWiRFiqXkn2FCAC5vVSzCYWEZdyObbTtf3O/s1600/IMAG0630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3bbiLHnLdObmPdtJGMWan8178fW3raHAQeRdsJopZVqJCy2BIHIcuKBdrHlYdk7t-FJdTXXcwfEdjIVeerVhrwEbAyQjKkquBY_GOj715RWiRFiqXkn2FCAC5vVSzCYWEZdyObbTtf3O/s320/IMAG0630.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfpEQP8eldJDASS1bmaRJcR9CQhhGP4Q0CEbxduWy39HxJ3tDKpRh-Q3GnzuMVVeQVmxtR9TixzEUrV2pqauPgrTs8o8dqzl2vMz907qR9bia3yRSf88RssplZ-TwISlCqw9zefXES6_W/s1600/IMAG0647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfpEQP8eldJDASS1bmaRJcR9CQhhGP4Q0CEbxduWy39HxJ3tDKpRh-Q3GnzuMVVeQVmxtR9TixzEUrV2pqauPgrTs8o8dqzl2vMz907qR9bia3yRSf88RssplZ-TwISlCqw9zefXES6_W/s320/IMAG0647.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6uV8BkydF-hLoUSDu9Q5Xenf2WPpMy4jzF3_V02MJ5xfDkYbSg7KMbLZxVb1ll6cT_2-4rfBSmhHm9Qr7Tw9NwhS6-KCusMhRbluT2GH7L3BRKldVGESvWyhW4RRVWOxOrW-uTIP7d7B/s1600/IMAG0660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6uV8BkydF-hLoUSDu9Q5Xenf2WPpMy4jzF3_V02MJ5xfDkYbSg7KMbLZxVb1ll6cT_2-4rfBSmhHm9Qr7Tw9NwhS6-KCusMhRbluT2GH7L3BRKldVGESvWyhW4RRVWOxOrW-uTIP7d7B/s320/IMAG0660.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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After that, we checked in to our hotel and wandered around Kittery a little while trying to figure out where to eat. We didn't do more than set foot inside the Kittery Trading Post long enough to observe that a wooden statue inside looks a lot like one of Alan's former grad school professors at UMaine, the late, great Welch Everman. If you knew him, I think you'll agree, although the outfit is a bit off (he was a writer, not a mountain man):<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57-AUvTAcCgMUpzMoB4_aROU3uNnFTO6ESIMzhyKtgBfpCPgD9yIwny3SxZpC2hOVu96hGuw2egXzGGCJ2dXjEElznv01pOAvlOEBJaGJwSRM13ZxOediCaJ66WSxS8TL3BwqzYDkCaMg/s1600/IMAG0644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57-AUvTAcCgMUpzMoB4_aROU3uNnFTO6ESIMzhyKtgBfpCPgD9yIwny3SxZpC2hOVu96hGuw2egXzGGCJ2dXjEElznv01pOAvlOEBJaGJwSRM13ZxOediCaJ66WSxS8TL3BwqzYDkCaMg/s320/IMAG0644.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><br />
Ultimately, we hit a drugstore for a few snacks and a leg sleeve for Alan (because his ankle was bothering him) and then got take-out 'cause we were almost to the point of shaky, we were so hungry. We ate in our hotel room, did the night-before-a-race ritual of laying out our running clothes, and turned in.<br />
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The weather for the race--and our anniversary--could not have been any nicer. We arrived in plenty of time to use the restrooms, finish our breakfast, drink some water, stretch, etc. We embedded ourselves about halfway back in the pack--well in front of the strollers, but not really approaching the "real" competitors, waited for the horn and off we went. This course is really pretty, the volunteers are abundant and amazing, the race organizer is a total pro and seems like a genuinely nice guy. Alan started out at a pretty good clip and I stuck with him for almost the whole way. We were wearing these signs on our backs, see, and people kept commenting on them:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYWeF8ULQQyRflCD_EAQB9b_q1NEDpKh0UcSnvJMpd53CVC0w11623WJgnAcBopm1ANEyhn23P8JYc-oeVlMjUkeagxnKHPTbPSQr8JwyTmzh85P_ZrzKUGNLZvHRIOlzjJVZ8CWsqWhs/s1600/IMAG0759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYWeF8ULQQyRflCD_EAQB9b_q1NEDpKh0UcSnvJMpd53CVC0w11623WJgnAcBopm1ANEyhn23P8JYc-oeVlMjUkeagxnKHPTbPSQr8JwyTmzh85P_ZrzKUGNLZvHRIOlzjJVZ8CWsqWhs/s320/IMAG0759.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><br />
"Hey! Happy Anniversary!" "Congratulations!" "Awwww... that's sweet!" "Good for you!"<br />
I loved it! I wasn't sure how much of it Alan could hear (he had his headphones in) so I felt obligated to respond on both our behalves, which meant uttering a lot of breathless "thank you!"s, but it was great.<br />
<br />
When I finally gave in and walked a little I felt bad about splitting up. I imagined that people behind us were running a little faster just to catch up enough to read the signs. Of course, it was pretty amazing that they all passed us easily and disappeared into the distance....(!) Anyway, I took a couple short walking breaks but managed to use the few little downhill stretches to make up some time and eventually caught back up. I was pushing it the whole time--breathing hard--but my legs felt good. Alan, however, was dealing with a lingering shin thing [technical term] leftover from his marathon the previous weekend, and said later that he should not have run Great Island at all.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggbJLh7io-xxftULCLFYYzE8xjFdDJ8XjA4oYV2pTu6I3SJWP2rTsRLL_f2LuEpW3bwI1eDwsNp0hAUD-2hCpNXJmxAoNaou-l30BXh6Up5xx22i0BOs5ehk6V60kwyEyQLQ46j45w5MfD/s1600/IMAG0664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggbJLh7io-xxftULCLFYYzE8xjFdDJ8XjA4oYV2pTu6I3SJWP2rTsRLL_f2LuEpW3bwI1eDwsNp0hAUD-2hCpNXJmxAoNaou-l30BXh6Up5xx22i0BOs5ehk6V60kwyEyQLQ46j45w5MfD/s320/IMAG0664.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Once again, we finished together and once again our names were <b>not </b>called by the announcer. I think we have a family destiny to be the unmentioned finishers at every race. We weren't announced at Big Lake--even though we crossed hand-in-hand. Alan's name was not called at the Maine Marathon--even though he crossed the line alone. My survivor mom didn't even get announced at the Komen for the Cure! This was <b>not </b>the announcer's fault, however--I'm embarrassed to admit that a child of mine who shall not be named tripped over the microphone cord and unplugged it just as Mom was finishing. It didn't happen at the Tufts 10k, either (and there was a picture snafu, but that's the next blogpost). We're cursed, I tell you, cursed!<br />
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We also had hopes of actually winning one of the gazillion door prizes or maybe even getting some sort of mention on account of our anniversary (and our clever signs), but unfortunately we could not stay long enough to find out. We did, however, enjoy the awesome post-race spread. For a little race in a small town, they have a LOT of food. And good food, at that. There was plenty of water and bagels, cream cheese, donuts, homemade blueberry-banana bread, pretzels, bananas, pita chips & hummus....I can't even remember it all. We visited, and ate, and I took a sort of baby-wipes-sponge-bath in the restroom, and then we were off to catch a train for the second half of our Anniversary Adventure.Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-80302652992081897072011-10-16T09:56:00.000-04:002011-10-16T09:56:39.675-04:00Why Not Have Pie for Breakfast?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Nana Mary brought us two big bags of apples a while back, and yesterday, I finally got around to making an apple pie with help from Jeremy and Madeline (James is in Boston with the Boy Scouts). I peeled the apples, Jeremy operated the corer-slicer gadget, and Madeline mixed the spices. We used a Betty Crocker pie crust mix with Asiago cheese added in. We also added raspberries and blackberries to our filling. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We cut heart shapes in the top crust and slathered it with cream with cinnamon and nutmeg. It was beautiful! But I forgot to take a picture before I wrapped it in 3 layers of plastic wrap. Oops. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It is now in the freezer and ready to go to Vermont to be baked for Thanksgiving.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We were pretty enthusiastic and had lots of apple filling leftover.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So, this morning I thought, Why NOT have pie for breakfast?!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I used a smaller crock to bake our mini deep-dish pie. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdCwkTyQ36WMB9LB-egDRo77vCdEK41sSTwkHiVbWsER_d2zyP9pl8vUSxFO8fu7l4Dp3e_5Lfl03A_Ym2d4egmXdDeZlf-Vj5WJ5Lx3y1_jzX-1nk4M7bdRSQoC8s_BcxP2eKoDgX6Oz/s1600/IMAG0730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdCwkTyQ36WMB9LB-egDRo77vCdEK41sSTwkHiVbWsER_d2zyP9pl8vUSxFO8fu7l4Dp3e_5Lfl03A_Ym2d4egmXdDeZlf-Vj5WJ5Lx3y1_jzX-1nk4M7bdRSQoC8s_BcxP2eKoDgX6Oz/s320/IMAG0730.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I experimented with the crust: Bisquick, butter, water and Asiago.</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We repeated yesterday's decorating scheme. It came out even more beautiful than the first one...</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">...and tastes delicious with tangy frozen yogurt!</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yummmm........!</div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-918891759932422452011-10-16T09:11:00.000-04:002011-10-16T09:11:12.338-04:00And Now For Something Completely Different<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCEQXLIKscujNgQoBdHWuCCzDMoseQBTGF-WAuW_xRSXpRKOUn8S3LeIjPMKBlmlC6MjQuxtUcDnDxF6osrwGFISyzBjrq0RjTEBdmL9KkBnovhx6LeusWSxxy0lsYznN3PsKGHKv-EV2/s1600/IMAG0615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrCEQXLIKscujNgQoBdHWuCCzDMoseQBTGF-WAuW_xRSXpRKOUn8S3LeIjPMKBlmlC6MjQuxtUcDnDxF6osrwGFISyzBjrq0RjTEBdmL9KkBnovhx6LeusWSxxy0lsYznN3PsKGHKv-EV2/s640/IMAG0615.jpg" width="358" /></a></div><br />
I have a whole series of these but this is the best one. I was driving [yes, driving] down Stillwater Avenue from Bangor to Orono. At times I could see the entire arch of the rainbow, doubled at both ends. To the right the sun was brilliantly illuminating the early fall foliage. To the left the sky was a deep grey. By the time I snapped the next picture there was hail hitting the windshield. I thought it was freakin' amazing and kept taking pictures with my phone out the windshield, out my window, through the passenger window... When I arrived at soccer practice to pick up Jeremy there were some other opinions on the matter. Practice had been abruptly abandoned so the team could seek shelter inside the school and several seven-year-olds were convinced they were near frostbite. Drama!Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-58106091125605702642011-10-15T09:28:00.001-04:002011-10-15T09:28:40.944-04:00Alan's Marathon Blog Post, Part 4<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realize that I haven’t really said much about the actual running up till now, but there really isn’t that much to say. I don’t think it could have gone better for me for my first marathon. I held my starting pace for about the first 6 miles or so, and I didn’t slow too badly throughout. I ended with a 13:09 pace for the whole race, and I’ll certainly take that. At the 20 mile mark I was 36 minutes faster than when I had done my 20 mile training run a few weeks earlier. And like I said, I never had to walk, except for a few hills that I had planned on walking anyway and I didn’t walk at all until sometime after mile 12. There was no “wall,” at least for me in this race (I imagine I’ll find out all about that someday, though). It started to hurt some after 15 miles, mostly in my hips, and the last six were even tougher. I wasn’t running all that fast over the last few miles, but I was running, and I never felt like I couldn’t go any further. I finished in 5:44:13 (net time—it took me almost 2 minutes to get to the starting line after the gun went off). I said going in that I would be happy with anything under 6 hours, and this was well below that. 808th out of 945. I’ll take it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The race started out as a giant mass of people (around 3,000 or so) but for me it got lonelier and lonelier as the day went on. Going out from the starting line and around Back Cove in Portland, I could look ahead and see runners stretched out almost all the way around the cove. It was pretty neat to watch. And just little while later crossing the Martin Point Bridge, again it was crowded with runners. Not too much further on I started seeing runners on the return leg of the half marathon, so it got even busier. But around mile 6.5 I passed the half marathon turn around and things got pretty quiet. Eventually I started seeing the returning marathoners and it picked up again for awhile, but when I turned into the loop at the far end of the course at mile 12, that was it. It was just the few runners who were at around my pace. Some would pass me. I would pass some. Sometimes we would move back and forth like that a few times. But I think most of us were alone in our own little personal races from then on as we crossed the halfway point and started the long haul back to the finish. As I entered Back Cove again on the way back some 3 hours later, it struck me just how deserted it was. There were a couple of girls cheering runners on at the last turn onto the cove, and one last water station that was just a table covered with cups of water and a woman beginning to pack things up. I could see a couple of runners maybe a quarter mile or so ahead, and that was it. No other runners. No crowds. It was kind of peaceful, actually. Still, I was glad to see Nancy coming up the other way to meet me. I took off my headphones and listened as she chatted and I talked a little, but mostly I didn’t have the energy so I just enjoyed the company over the last mile.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Crossing that finish line felt great. Getting that medal put around my neck was one of the more satisfying moments I’ve ever had. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the back of my mind over the years I had always thought that it would be great to be able to run a marathon someday, but since I never stuck with running for long periods of time it was never a concrete goal, just a “wow, that would be cool” kind of thought. Back when I was in college I had this one night on the track in the field house where I was up to 8 miles and feeling pretty good. I figured I’d go for 10, which would have been the longest I had ever run. And then they closed the building for the night and kicked me out. I never got back to that distance and 10 miles was the goal I had for a long, long time. It was over 20 years before I hit that goal last year, and now here I am having finished my first marathon. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Is it a little sick that I was looking up stuff about the Sugarloaf Marathon (May of 2012) the next day? I made need to seek help.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Some post race notes:</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">I mentioned that the weather bothered me the most before the race started. That’s not entirely true. I think it was worse after I finished. Running kept me nice and warm for the most part but I started shivering almost the moment I stopped. The space blanket was nice, but the wind kept whipping it out behind me like a cape, which seriously undermined its effectiveness (even if it looked cool—in my head at least). <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;"> As painful as running a marathon can be, it’s absolutely nothing compared to the day after. By the next night it was all I could do to stand up out of a chair, and going down stairs was a whole new experience in pain. As I write this, 3 days after the race, I’m starting to feel something like normal. A little stiff, but I actually did a couple of miles on the track today and it didn’t feel too bad.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">While I did notice the crowd a lot more than I usually do, I still didn’t really pay a heck of a lot of attention to the signs people had. There was one that I heard about after the fact that I really liked, though. It said, “Because 26.<u>3</u> miles would just be crazy.” That sums it all up for me.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There were a few signs that I did notice, though. It was great to come through the door back at home that evening to cheering kids and signs that said, “Yay!” and, “Woo Hoo!” and “You did it!” and, “Now go take a nap.” The kids didn’t come along for this one. Spending 6 hours in the cold and rain would have been too much, both for them and for Nancy. Her head might have exploded. But they were there in spirit. </span></span><br />
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</span></span></div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-66750787699988533102011-10-15T09:15:00.000-04:002011-10-15T09:15:34.111-04:00Alan's Marathon Blog Post, Part 3<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In general, I had a pretty clear race plan all laid out. I knew what I wanted for a pace, how often I wanted to eat, how I was going to stay hydrated, etc. That all went out the window pretty quick, mostly because of the weather. My plan for my pace stayed the same, but that was about it. I planned on a 12 minute per mile pace to start, and I would try to maintain that for as long as I could. There were a few small hills (that I swear looked bigger driving them than when I was running them—I suppose that’s better than the other way around) that I planned to walk whether I felt I needed to or not, just to conserve energy for later on. I wasn’t going to break any records at that pace, but it isn’t as if I was ever going to do that anyway. The race website said that course support would end at 2 p.m., 6 hours and 15 minutes after the starting gun, and as my pace got slower and slower as I increased my mileage during training, I started to wonder whether I could make that. For those who expected to be slower than that, they recommended the 6 a.m. start, and I never wanted to do that. For one thing, I’d need to be up at like 4 in the morning and that’s just not going to happen, but more than that I wanted to be in the big crowd of over 3,000 at the start. That was a big part of the experience. Plus, while I don’t have any problem watching the faster runners run away from me at the start (I’m used to that), having them all come flying by me (even though I had started almost two hours ahead of them) would just be too damned depressing to take. The pace I had set for myself would get me to the finish in plenty of time, but only if I could sustain it. I knew that I would slow throughout the day, and that was fine, but if I crashed late in the race and ended up walking a lot, then I might be in later than 2 p.m. In the end, though, I was fine. I did slow over the course of 26 miles, and I took a few short walk breaks on purpose on a handful of the hills, but I never “had” to walk like I would sometimes have to at the end of longer training runs. In the last few miles of the race I went by several people who would run 15 or 20 seconds and then have to stop and walk for awhile. I’ve been there, and it sucks, but that never happened to me during the race. I wasn’t exactly sprinting by people, but I was running the whole way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But, largely because of the weather, everything else changed. I figured I’d be eating every 3 miles to keep my energy up. It’s a little more often than the “every 45 minutes” that most of the running books recommend, but at my size I figured I burned calories a little faster, so eating more often couldn’t hurt. The problem was that it was so wet and so cold I didn’t want to bother. I didn’t want to take the gloves off to dig in my pouch for food and my fingers were too cold to work the way they were supposed to anyways. I finally forced myself to eat after about 5 miles, and then about every 4 after that, nowheres near as often as I had intended. Late in the race I had to make myself eat because my stomach was grumbling. I was a little worried I might run out of gas, but luckily I didn’t. (Note: For a long time, my running fuel of choice was Fig Newtons, but I got pretty sick of those so now it’s Pop Tarts. Not the healthiest of choices, but oh well. Gu makes me gag every time I try to choke one down. Besides, I like Pop Tarts, even if Nancy claims they aren’t really “food.”)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The other plan that went completely out the window was what and how much I was drinking. For runs more than 5 miles, I always run with a Camelbak. I even recently got a nice new Octane LR that has the lumbar reservoir, just for this race (I did get to try it out at the MDI Half, though). The water reservoir sits down on your hips instead of riding up between your shoulders and it’s so much more comfortable on really long runs. The plan was to run without it for the first 6 miles and when I saw Nancy at the first good spectator area I would get it from her. But as I got closer to the 6 mile mark I just wasn’t needing it. The rain and the cold was making it so I just wasn’t sweating, so as I went by Nancy and grabbed a Gatorade, I told her I would get it when I saw her again in 4 miles. 4 miles later, I told her not to bother. I never ended up needing it, so that was a good 5 pounds that I didn’t need to lug around all day. So I guess the lesson that comes out of all this for me is that it’s great to have a solid plan for the race, but when the race starts and circumstances change, be willing to keep what works and drop what doesn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As for Nancy, she was great and I wouldn’t have had the day I did if it wasn’t for her support all through the race. We had it all marked out where she would meet me (and what I wanted from her at each spot). She saw me off at the start (I caught a glimpse of her running along just after the starting line snapping pictures), met me 6 miles in, and again at 10. Then she stayed where she was until I came back around a little after mile 16 and the hopped back to the first location where she met me a little after mile 20. Then it was back to the start where she parked, put on her running shoes and came up the course to meet me at mile 25 and run the last mile in with me. She had food, Gatorade, the Camelbak I didn’t end up needing, and much needed support all along the way. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">have Gatorade, will travel</td></tr>
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</div><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> She also acted as “race reporter,” sending text messages to the kids (and our parents) back home at each checkpoint to let them know how I was doing. And while she didn’t have to run all day, in some ways standing around in the rain was even worse because she could never get warm. She’d go back to the van after I went running by, spend just enough time in it to start to dry off, then it was back out into the rain again. She was a trooper.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">self-portrait between sightings (watercolor)</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">Her being at each of those stops did more than just give me stuff, though. It helped me to chunk the run into smaller pieces so it wouldn’t seem overwhelming. I didn’t have to run 26 miles. I only had to run 6. And then 4. And so on. More than that, though, it was nice to have some moral support throughout the day. When I run I tend to get in a little bubble with my headphones on and I ignore most of what is going on around me. Nancy is completely different when she runs. She likes to chat with people along the way, both runners and spectators. She gets a big boost out of the crowd support. I’m generally not like that, but I’ve discovered that running a marathon is different for me when it comes to that. I even managed to smile and wave at a lot of the spectators. What really helped, though, wasn’t just having a bunch of strangers shout encouragement to me while I was running, but having someone who actually knew me, telling me I was doing well and spurring me on. It made a big difference.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-33333585945340439922011-10-14T07:35:00.000-04:002011-10-14T07:35:54.710-04:00Alan's Marathon Blog Post, Part 2<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">When I got up a little after 5 a.m. on race day, the ankle was better. Still looked a little puffy, and if I poked in the right places (which didn’t seem like it would be an issue when I was running) it was still tender, but I didn’t notice anything when I walked around. Occasionally I forgot completely about it. And that was that. I won’t say all the worry was for nothing because if I hadn’t gotten to the chiropractor and spent a lot of time with an ice pack on it, I might have been in trouble, but thankfully it ended up being a complete non issue during the race. Never felt it even a little over the whole time.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So all I had to worry about now was that trivial 26.2 miles. I won’t say I wasn’t nervous at all. The lack of saliva I could manage as I choked down a little pre-race breakfast proves that wasn’t the case, but I think I was more anxious than nervous. After all the build-up, I just wanted to be on my way and see if I could make it. We left the hotel in the dark at 6:45 a.m. One hour till the start.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">kind of a "where's Waldo" shot in the hotel parking lot</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">putting on my bib under cover of the lift gate</td></tr>
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The big story of the day was the weather. Wet. Cold and wet. Windy, cold and wet. And did I mention wet? I had been obsessing about the weather forecast ever since the extended forecast on the Weather Channel’s website reached race day (so 9 days beforehand). It couldn’t make up its mind. One day it looked like it was going to be perfect. Partly cloudy, 60 degrees and dry. The next day it would say rain. The day after that it was going to be dry again on race day. They couldn’t make up their minds. But as the day of the race got closer and closer, it settled more consistently on rainy, and that was what the race was like, consistently rainy. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was worst waiting for the start. There was no way to warm up and stretch and do all the other things you needed to do to get ready. Even the port-a-potties were complicated by it. They were set up in two rows, one on either side of a small parking lot. The problem was that there was a slope to the parking lot. The ones on the high side of the lot were fine, but those on the low side were sitting in a good 3 inches of water. At least I hope it was just water. I lined up for the port-a-potties on the upslope just in case.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then we were off. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">crossing the starting mat</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No more worrying about whether I was going to be healthy, or whether my foot was going to be okay for the race, or about what the weather was going to do. Finally I could just run and see if I could do it. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As bad as the weather was, though, it never really bothered me during the race. It was only during the first mile or so that I felt its effects in a bad way. Like I said, milling around in the rain at the start didn’t let us warm up or stretch, so I was stiff and cold for the first mile or so until the blood got flowing. After that, as crazy as it sounds, I kind of liked the weather. I’m not sure I would have done as well as I ended up doing if it hadn’t been for it. I could have done without the headwind that came up from time to time, and the rain was a little heavy a few times, but what it did was keep me nice and cool. At 6’3” and 225 lbs., I’m not built for running in the heat and I have a hard time staying hydrated. I’ve gone for long runs where I’ve weighed myself before and after and I’ll be 5 lbs. lighter at the end, even though I was drinking regularly from my Camelbak the whole time and took in 5 lbs. of water during the run. So, in a way, this weather was ideal for me. I never overheated, and I never got dehydrated. I started the race wearing a rain jacket (a nice L.L. Bean shell—much more stylish than the garbage bag ponchos that it seemed like at least a third of the runners were wearing) and gloves. I was warmed up enough by 8 miles or so to take off the gloves (they were soaked through so they didn’t do me much good by then anyway) and left both them and the jacket with Nancy at mile 10. After that I was fine in just a sleeveless running shirt. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The rain didn’t even bother me mentally, and it could have. If I had gotten down about the weather, or thought too much about how hard it might make the race (or whether it would keep me from finishing at all), I think I would have been sunk. So much of long distance running is mental. If I had let the weather get me down, it could have ruined me. A couple of things helped it go the other way. One was early in the race, just a few miles in. I was running next to several other people (later in the race, I would be much, much more alone) and they started joking about the rain. It seems like such a little thing, but I think if I had been next to a group of people bitching about the rain, the day might have gone a lot differently. The other thing was my playlist on my mp3 player. I forget exactly where and when it was, but it couldn’t have been more than a third of the way into the race. The skies really opened up. On a day that was wet almost from beginning to end, this was the wettest part. And just at that moment, with the rain pouring down and the headwind picking up, Sheryl Crow’s “Soak up the Sun” starts coming through my headphones. All I could do was tip my head back, hold my arms out, and laugh. From then on, the weather was nothing. It would end up changing the way I did some things, but it wasn’t going to bother me.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-85962876601425682472011-10-14T07:13:00.000-04:002011-10-14T07:13:36.630-04:00Alan's Marathon Blog Post, Part 1[It took running a marathon to get Alan to write on the blog, and then he wrote so much I decided to "chunk it" for easier consumption. Other than that, all I've done is throw in a picture or two.]<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Surprisingly, I wasn’t really all that nervous the morning of the race. I had actually been more worried in the days leading up to it. Not so much about the race itself, though. I felt I was about as ready as I could be for it. I’d gotten my 20 miler in three weeks before. It wasn’t as fast as I had hoped it would be by about half an hour, but it was actually my second attempt in just 6 days to make that distance. The first time I came up short at 16 miles because my knee was hurting and I didn’t want to push it, so to hit my 20 miler only six days later at any pace was fine as far as I was concerned. And then I bounced back from that quickly enough to do the MDI Half the following weekend and have a new PR for that distance. So after tapering over the following two weeks, I was nice and rested and in a pretty good place as far as my training was concerned. On top of all that, I broke 600 miles for the year in my last short run before the marathon. There was no telling what might happen on race day, but there really wasn’t a hell of a lot more I could have done to get ready for it, and I didn’t feel stressed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I also managed to fight off the cold that blew through our house the week after the MDI Half. Two of the kids and Nancy all spent time home sick, and I could feel the telltale stuffy nose and scratchy throat that almost always leads to a major cold for me. I was sure I was doomed. It’s been my pattern over the last year or so. I stay healthy all through the training cycle and then get sick right before the race. I had a miserable cold for the two weeks leading up to the MDI Half in 2010 (my first ever half marathon). It broke just a couple of days before the race, but I was still wrung out on race day and was a good 15 minutes slower than my goal pace. Almost exactly the same thing happened in May this year at the Big Lake Half, and I ended with almost exactly the same time as last year’s MDI. This year’s MDI was the exception to that. For a change I was perfectly healthy and it showed in the PR. Now, though, I felt like I was going to pay for that bit of good luck and be miserable for the big race I’d been training for for the past five months. If a bad cold could lay me up the way it did before those two half marathons, how bad would it be to run twice that distance (and to be going 6.2 miles longer than I had ever run in my life). In the end, though, I got lucky. I spent a week pumping myself full of vitamin C, sucking on those god-awful tasting zinc lozenges, and staying as far away as I could from the rest of the family. I felt a little guilty every time I told my kids to get away from me because I didn’t want them to breathe on me, but eventually the scratchy throat and stuffed up nose went away. A week ‘till the race and I was feeling fine.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It couldn’t last, though, as Murphy would say. Something had to go wrong, and it did. I went to bed the Wednesday before the race feeling fine, and woke up Thursday morning with my left foot stiff and hurting. Yes, that’s right. I’ve been running steadily for almost two years, 1100 miles total, 3 half marathons and a handful of 5 to 10k races and during all that I managed to avoid injury. Now, 3 days before running my first marathon, I somehow managed to hurt myself . . . IN MY SLEEP. I know that when you get older you become more prone to injury, but isn’t that pushing it a bit? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I did my final short run of 3 miles that morning despite the soreness in my foot and was reassured because it didn’t bother me while I was running. It was side to side motion that hurt and since the whole point of a race it to move forward, I figured there was hope, at least. But I also knew that there is a big difference between running 3 miles and running 26.2 miles, so I spent much of the day icing the foot, trying to stretch whatever I could stretch, calling the chiropractor for an emergency appointment, grumbling about it when I couldn’t get one, and generally convincing myself that I was completely screwed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Friday I finally managed to get in on a cancellation at the chiropractor, and he spent a long time working on the foot trying to get things to straighten out. There turned out to be three different bones that had slipped out of place (the cuboid, the calcaneous and one other whose name I forget) and they didn’t want to go back where they belonged. At one point he was lifting my ankle a foot or so above the table and slamming it down hard to try to get the bones to shift. Eventually they did, but I was still not all that optimistic about the marathon now just two days away. Lots of ice and elevation lay in my immediate future.</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Come Saturday, Nancy and I drove to Portland to pick up my race packet and to spend the night before the race in a hotel, and while my foot was a little better, it was far from perfect. All around the ankle bone was visibly swollen (I made sure that Nancy got a good look at it so that she could verify that I wasn’t making up some excuse in case I couldn’t finish the race). I tried not to let it ruin the experience, though. We wandered around the race expo. Nancy bought a couple of things from the vendors, and I got a rub down from the volunteer massage therapists set up there. We had a nice lunch at the aptly named Full Belly Deli, and I carbo-loaded later that night on pancakes and hash browns at Denny’s. But my mind kept coming back to the way my ankle felt which might have been a little better, but was far from perfect. One last ice down and then it was time to get some sleep. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pickle-laden sandwich at Full Belly Deli</td></tr>
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</span></span></div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-26054467668645150582011-10-07T16:24:00.000-04:002011-10-07T16:24:33.609-04:00He Did It!Let it be known throughout the blogosphere:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Alan ran his first Full Marathon!</span><br />
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He did the Maine Marathon on Sunday, October 2nd, a rainy, wet, sopping, drenching, soggy, did I mention wet? day.<br />
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I'm so darned proud of my hubby. He worked really hard to get here and had so many ups and downs along the way. It's been an adventure. I'm so lucky to have him inspiring me and supporting me in my running efforts and it's great to see him accomplish something so huge.<br />
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<b><i>Beware: Alan wrote a novel about it and we will be subjecting you to it over the next few posts!</i></b>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-58190304520858531812011-10-06T23:17:00.000-04:002011-10-06T23:17:01.151-04:00Weekend Report (Part 3 of 3): Komen for the CureAnd now for a post about the slowest and yet most inspiring run of my life.<br />
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I was planning to put together a little video because there are just so many pictures from this very cool event and they all describe it so much better than I can with words...but I haven't had much time on the PC at home and I just don't have the oomph for it now (plus Emilie's way better at that sort of thing...). <br />
But I've GOT to get some pictures up here and I NEED to tell you a little about them.<br />
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I took a bunch of pictures with my phone while we were hanging around in the mob scene that was the Komen starting area at the Bangor Waterfront. Here I am with Mom. She's all decked out in her "Survivor" gear. <br />
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Mum agreed to walk the Komen for her friend, Beth (my friend Emilie's mom), who was diagnosed with cancer, beat it and took up running all in 2011 (yes, they are an entire family of over-achievers!). Mom feels funny about her survivor status because she had it pretty easy as breast cancer bouts go and it was a long time ago now. The way I see it, she's the poster girl for the way things <u>ought</u> to be: if anyone has to get this vile thing, it should be caught super early and eradicated swiftly and thoroughly. And there's certainly no shame in getting lucky.<br />
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So anyway...I convinced Mum to walk the 5k after Emilie convinced me to run it, even though it just happened to land on the day after the MDI Half Marathon. While that wasn't very convenient timing for me, I told myself "Hey: when has cancer ever been convenient for anyone, right? Suck it up, Nancy." and emailed Emilie that I'd do it. As soon as I was on board, I figured Madeline would want to do, but I was surprised how excited James was about it.<br />
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Here, Jeremy is getting a pink ribbon temporary tattoo and you can see my left sleeve, memorializing Linda Scott, Great Aunt Louise and Nana Madeline Dane (my right sleeve honored survivors Mom, Betty, Beth and Laurie). <br />
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Madeline is sporting a pink bear on her hat and a Team Beth sign:<br />
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</div>I love this classic shot of Emilie getting one of <strong>her</strong> classic shots (plus the whole sea of pink):<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here I am with James, who was sporting a very manly "real men wear pink" wristband:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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Emilie, our friend, Doug, and I all stayed with Beth as sort of her entourage (and taking it easy since we'd just run MDI). Mum walked with another woman who was there to support Beth and she was a wonderful motivator, pushing Mum's pace the whole way. Jeremy spectated with Alan. Here's Madeline's finish: <br />
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And Beth's, hand-in-hand with Emilie (Doug's behind them):<br />
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Alan totally missed me crossing the finish line (dude!), but did manage to spot two of his cousins: <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFZkf3GRdRxvKr4_bePOK4bAx74PiQsnfIHdtGGHL2QJkT1v23v6GZmrUWCbo0eIEQsGdAQBD5p6tVBpA_rcOJ76BSNe92Wi7hvMwbHVZIH0xXaVoe2tNZe81DL8JpP7pxv-liQDEAeAj/s1600/DSC02884.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFZkf3GRdRxvKr4_bePOK4bAx74PiQsnfIHdtGGHL2QJkT1v23v6GZmrUWCbo0eIEQsGdAQBD5p6tVBpA_rcOJ76BSNe92Wi7hvMwbHVZIH0xXaVoe2tNZe81DL8JpP7pxv-liQDEAeAj/s320/DSC02884.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The reason why he missed me is because Emilie gave me her camera at the end and I ran ahead to take nausea-inducing footage of Beth's big finish. You can view it (as part of one of her awesome photo-video-movies) <a href="http://www.onemominmaine.com/2011/09/celebrating-my-mom-race-for-cure-video.html">here</a>. That will give you the real feel of the event.</div><div style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know I'm not doing this blogpost justice, so I'll just wrap up by saying it was an awesome event and I'm so glad I did it. The run itself was fun and relaxing--it actually felt good to loosen up a little after the Half--although by the afternoon I was pretty stiff and sore and I swear, I get super stoopid when I'm running-tired. I could not string two intelligible thoughts together the next day! Emotionally, it felt really good to celebrate the survivors I know and I managed to avoid getting sappy about it, which is good because otherwise I would have gotten all verklempt and been a big mess. And nobody wants to see that! </div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-9209502844510157692011-09-22T16:41:00.000-04:002011-09-22T16:41:31.565-04:00Weekend Report (Part 2 of 3): MDI Half Marathon 2011<b>Saturday, September 17th</b><br />
<div></div>When we dragged ourselves out of bed in the wee small hours it was definitely nippy, but it proved to be a gorgeous day with blue cloudless skies, and crisp clear air...a most exquisite early fall Saturday in Maine. <br />
<div></div>Much of the day turned out as planned (or better). We arrived at the starting line appropriately equipped and on time for the horn (barely, in my case, but it meant I could skip the pit stop later). The Nanas managed navigation and timing such that they met us each at several points on the course (including the crucial first stop where they handed us our camelbaks), didn't lose or damage either of the kids, and got everyone back to the Y in time to see us finish. Mum even got some pictures. Here I am swooping in for a hug from Jeremy at the top of Eagle Lake. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGdRRZOK2L9xUhYg3OLs5vfyZxE-CAovE8eApqhreaOoAd_PpwuA3Cxt7W17T6I8YogEPFC8hmW3lYAw_IcJlZUz9MhhjBxGWjx5l05C6-_P1fApTGRpTbfOEPpUxNWZ1B2-vCa2GC799/s1600/DSC06833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGdRRZOK2L9xUhYg3OLs5vfyZxE-CAovE8eApqhreaOoAd_PpwuA3Cxt7W17T6I8YogEPFC8hmW3lYAw_IcJlZUz9MhhjBxGWjx5l05C6-_P1fApTGRpTbfOEPpUxNWZ1B2-vCa2GC799/s320/DSC06833.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I only paused long enough to get my headphones tangled up and to correct Mum when she mistakenly estimated that Alan would be back at the top of the lake in approximately 8 minutes. We were four minutes apart at that point so her calculation would have him doing 6 miles in about 12 minutes. Um...no. [It turns out, he had been trying to help her determine how far behind him I would eventually be, but no matter.] Here's Alan having completed said circuit (a reasonable amount of time later).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcqjY4Au1su-JEJNy2awIOnOJ2HA1hGB_4X75yEhhF-T1BZHWC-ua8exTu7fA0XUZZwuSw3nO7LOdKmlQnexP6g8kIxL0Rua9mLMiKzLhlOqhnlxoP-lFUdVM988zjh6TpHKt98o0AB__/s1600/DSC06837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcqjY4Au1su-JEJNy2awIOnOJ2HA1hGB_4X75yEhhF-T1BZHWC-ua8exTu7fA0XUZZwuSw3nO7LOdKmlQnexP6g8kIxL0Rua9mLMiKzLhlOqhnlxoP-lFUdVM988zjh6TpHKt98o0AB__/s320/DSC06837.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan just after mile 10</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Alan--considering this just another training run, and part of his taper at that--had planned to take it fairly slow ("but not shingles slow" because that would just be embarrassing). His final time was 2:33:02, a new PR for him (compared to 2:46:59 last year, and 2:47:57 at Big Lake). He wasn't actually complaining about the finisher's "prize" when this picture was taken, but it does look that way, and the caption expresses our general feelings on the matter.</div><div></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzfYxVXtsUU3H2VpJCfYaHW7muHQkL2DM-lGjfx0n5asVcnrtHewa6MaGvE6TfA0S9Lhst5WzaJXbQHk7Z1tmp8sAF9C5w0RybO_F-lirAEiARxH4D9ruqj4Cwl-JhqxK1fsCxwrOGfhgf/s1600/DSC06841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzfYxVXtsUU3H2VpJCfYaHW7muHQkL2DM-lGjfx0n5asVcnrtHewa6MaGvE6TfA0S9Lhst5WzaJXbQHk7Z1tmp8sAF9C5w0RybO_F-lirAEiARxH4D9ruqj4Cwl-JhqxK1fsCxwrOGfhgf/s320/DSC06841.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A freakin' TRAVEL MUG??!! Where's my #@&#% medal?!?!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I knew I'd be faster than last year, but didn't think I'd be in a position to beat my time from May, so I was shooting for 2:50:00 and was going to be happy as long as I was under 3 hours. This is me feeling pretty darn good about my own PR of 2:43:17 (compared to Big Lake's 2:47:56 and last year's sad, slow, shingly 3:13:13).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0M1YKsPd8GDL1tqdkA9VrKLravjoWYtH7iUNKBMPiQkWmZLKhLy9pLfSl1QmDF-CEkrZ1miFamIUlc9jAU9t4zCZa4ub8bO1JyrbUbxHdk34LqYiKZSD_GxaUOYwUgY4ccuRlPYTIUcPf/s1600/IMAG0520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0M1YKsPd8GDL1tqdkA9VrKLravjoWYtH7iUNKBMPiQkWmZLKhLy9pLfSl1QmDF-CEkrZ1miFamIUlc9jAU9t4zCZa4ub8bO1JyrbUbxHdk34LqYiKZSD_GxaUOYwUgY4ccuRlPYTIUcPf/s320/IMAG0520.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nancy triumphant! (and ready for a shower!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Here we are with our support crew and Emilie-the-Great, who looks like a rock star and ran like one, too. Note that SHE has a medal....<br />
<div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggrB6FKNTtX3tx8xsRorUxlqZDaZ-FNTIxUB0uODI1QWgaJQUtx0dA3VacFELjvE-aP_NhwWVBi0pDBOxDMD6vcHPxz9DmAVQCTCCs8wzCkP1tlk2aSRLmUQUZvFXzu-z2j2ee4yGKnZTb/s1600/DSC06845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggrB6FKNTtX3tx8xsRorUxlqZDaZ-FNTIxUB0uODI1QWgaJQUtx0dA3VacFELjvE-aP_NhwWVBi0pDBOxDMD6vcHPxz9DmAVQCTCCs8wzCkP1tlk2aSRLmUQUZvFXzu-z2j2ee4yGKnZTb/s320/DSC06845.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>Medals vs Mugs</strong><br />
<br />
After polling registrants a couple months back as to whether we'd like an engraved travel mug in place of a medal, the race organizers decided to offer a <strong><em>choice</em></strong> of a mug or a medal. That sounds reasonable, but unfortunately they grossly miscalculated how many people would want the hardware and so RAN OUT OF MEDALS by the time the back-of-the-packers arrived (you know, the people who are less likely to have an excess of race bling and more likely to care about it). While I wish I had a medal, I <strong><em>really wish</em></strong> the organizers had been gutsier about the whole thing. They should have picked one item, made it a quality item, and presented it with style. The finisher's prize is a mug? OK, then make it a darned nice mug, put a ribbon on the handle and hang it around my neck. I'm serious! And make sure it says that I completed the race, instead of looking like something anyone could buy at a fundraiser and using it to advertise the store that sponsored them. While I applaud efforts to be unique and interesting, this did not cut it. I hope very much not ever again to bust my butt for 13.1 miles to be handed [I am not exaggerating here] A WHITE CARDBOARD BOX that says "MADE IN CHINA". Unless I'm in China, in which case that last part would be fine. But there better be something cool inside.<br />
<br />
Other races have truly unique prizes:<br />
<ul><li>The <a href="http://www.runmyrtlebeach.com/Nav_Top_Section/Half_Marathon/Race_Information.htm">Myrtle Beach Mini Marathon </a> medal has a removable ribbon, a giant refrigerator magnet on the back and is shaped like a surfboard with a shark bite taken out of it that doubles as a bottle opener. </li>
<li>There are companies like <a href="http://www.symbolarts.com/custom-products/race-medals/">this one</a> devoted to creating unique medals.</li>
<li>And, it doesn't even have to be a medal. Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival gives out cowbells and I heard of another race that gives out small pieces of granite on a ribbon [hello? pink granite would represent Acadia nicely.]</li>
</ul>Also, Alan was disappointed to be fourth in line for a post-race rubdown when they announced they only had time for two more people. But other than that, everything was really well organized, the course was pristine and magnificent, and everyone was incredibly nice as always. For all my razzing about the mugs, we know this race is special: there's nothing quite like it anywhere else and we're truly fortunate to experience it. <br />
<br />
Afterward, we drove around aimlessly for a bit hoping to find a shady spot with picnic tables, then gave up and headed back into Bar Harbor where our minivan circled like a giant silver vulture looking for a parking space. Finally, we landed on the green (conveniently near the public restrooms) and enjoyed a lovely picnic. We stuffed our faces, watched the boats in the harbor and even had a visit from a very friendly and trusting little bird that was like something out of a partially-animated, G-rated movie.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Jn4MFrZp44IeksoqpIP5-Zt3rG2IRrpxYl1cwLHgWu_9-SsJ6G6QdpHiKb9t4e55gt7wdb5Lm1b0Pk75y9Cow-imAW4z_doopceN1QciN6_T_hbiNGyLkdH2JQksj2nR9wRp2B7Z8z-N/s1600/DSC06854.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Jn4MFrZp44IeksoqpIP5-Zt3rG2IRrpxYl1cwLHgWu_9-SsJ6G6QdpHiKb9t4e55gt7wdb5Lm1b0Pk75y9Cow-imAW4z_doopceN1QciN6_T_hbiNGyLkdH2JQksj2nR9wRp2B7Z8z-N/s320/DSC06854.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Feed the birds...tuppence a bag..."</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDPWV6Q48FHzDBoiVDjqdO4vwEjUEk5mQnVLVseW5K9AQ2LN5XKCk3WvjqTsbP4XqIvGCw_bUAmfUoyjowI0Qcm_3FFJwZ8SJG6pQT9D2Ky5_SnbwdYfo5UpjE2ge6mDN8_0Qnq82XPev/s1600/DSC06867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDPWV6Q48FHzDBoiVDjqdO4vwEjUEk5mQnVLVseW5K9AQ2LN5XKCk3WvjqTsbP4XqIvGCw_bUAmfUoyjowI0Qcm_3FFJwZ8SJG6pQT9D2Ky5_SnbwdYfo5UpjE2ge6mDN8_0Qnq82XPev/s320/DSC06867.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It even agreed to be passed around...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6VVHMLe-trQGy-alb6Yua8J9h_liqDwHMrvY593A1P0IszO22gIBYJNWjyGq4zNWCvz8MkNNYNHBYFCeBLETr6ckWvjr3BHtoHSqifdthOya4SRm8g8-n_4ukYM918tNFOEa3V9Y_WieO/s1600/DSC06858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6VVHMLe-trQGy-alb6Yua8J9h_liqDwHMrvY593A1P0IszO22gIBYJNWjyGq4zNWCvz8MkNNYNHBYFCeBLETr6ckWvjr3BHtoHSqifdthOya4SRm8g8-n_4ukYM918tNFOEa3V9Y_WieO/s320/DSC06858.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and pecked at Alan's ankle...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfDFBDZBR2Sq6aRqKL5vfHTyzM-VQGDu3UMwoO17gTAfI3OoK-6Tjqn888aIBup7oQVU2EtiHLxnY_XZbok2iEf7qXbN50X32Fvpv1g9yPhFlQe-zLEizv97oDCz1SoKOj3qpIRkJmHgoD/s1600/DSC06874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfDFBDZBR2Sq6aRqKL5vfHTyzM-VQGDu3UMwoO17gTAfI3OoK-6Tjqn888aIBup7oQVU2EtiHLxnY_XZbok2iEf7qXbN50X32Fvpv1g9yPhFlQe-zLEizv97oDCz1SoKOj3qpIRkJmHgoD/s320/DSC06874.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and Madeline's sparkly nailpolish.</td></tr>
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So a good day was had by all and at this point all I had to do was figure out how to get up off the grass. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh yeah, and run a 5k the next morning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-50686545729213333182011-09-19T15:58:00.000-04:002011-09-19T15:58:22.891-04:00Weekend Report (part 1 of 3): On Pins and Needles<strong>Friday, September 16th</strong><br />
<br />
After months of tending the countdown calendar on my cubicle wall, I arrived at work dressed in jeans and last year's MDI Half Marathon technical tee and slid the ominous number "1" into its little laminated pocket.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>0</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Weeks</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">or</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>1</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Days</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">until we run the</span> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">MDI Half Marathon</span></div><br />
I worked a few hours, set my vacation responder to "on", then zipped home to to make a double batch of my new favorite snack--homemade granola bars with dark chocolate and dried cherries [recipe coming soon, I promise, Anne-Marie!]. Then I finished packing my clothes [read: finally decided what to wear for the race], the cooler (coldcuts, condiments, water, gatorade and coke), the green bag full of breakfast stuff (pop tarts, oatmeal, raisin bread & bananas), the picnic basket (plates, napkins, breads, snacks), and the red bag (camelbak parts and cowbells). At some point Nana Mary arrived (with more poptarts, cinnamon buns, brownies, cheese and crackers) and we eventually got all three kids home from school and packed and into the car and over to Mom and Dad's. We left James there, to spend the night with Gumpy and help push the train in the Charleston Bicentennial Parade, and picked up Nana Lois. At last six of us were off to Hancock where Alan and I unceremoniously deposited the two kids, two nanas and all our stuff, grabbed a couple of over-sized brownies, and dashed off to the island*. <br />
<br />
Somewhere around Lamoine I had a few moments of internet connection on my phone and updated my facebook status. Alan asked "so how do you feel?". When I hesitated, he said "I'm guessing you're feeling better than you did last year?". Hell, yeah! For the past two weeks I've been a little down on myself for not feeling as prepared as I'd like to be. I had a really great half in May with good reason: I'd worked hard, plus I was healthy and mentally prepared, too. But this summer, I didn't really do a lot of the training I meant to do. I did almost everything on my plan for <em>running</em>, but did virtually nothing else--no weights, no wii, no cross-training whatsoever. On the other hand, boy, does it feel good to be gearing up for this race again and <strong>not have shingles</strong>! So, I've been looking at this year's MDI Half as "the great do-over". Conditions are really pretty much the same as last year in terms of my overall fitness (although I wish I were improved), the one real difference being that I'm not sick: I don't have nerve pain from my ass to my ankle and I have been sleeping through the night like a normal person. Crazy! [Side note: last year a week before this race our friend, Sue, supported me while I was barely able to stand with chills, fatigue and nerve pain, watching my kids run the DI Pie in the Sky fun run and telling me that there would be other chances to run a half marathon. This year, a week ago, I watched my kids run (adorned in pie-winning costumes!) and then ran the 5k with Sue's husband, Bucky and their dog, Cricket. What a happy difference!]<br />
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We arrived at packet pick-up with time to spare before dinner, so when an acupuncturist asked if we wanted free mini-sessions we shrugged and said "sure!". Neither one of us had ever tried acupuncture, but we love our chiropractor and I didn't feel like it a would be a big stretch. Next thing we knew, I was face down on a table with tiny needles in my neck, my lower back and one leg while Alan was draped in a chair with needles in his back and a space blanket draped over him while strangers milled around picking up their packets and talking about "jogglers". <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is that Alan or a giant baked potato??</td></tr>
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Actually, I found the whole thing very relaxing. The needles only prickled when they were being inserted or moved and she managed to calm down a nasty knot in my neck and help relax the issue I've been having with my achilles. Alan took a little video of a needle in my ankle wobbling in rythmn to my pulse. Weird. Right afterwards I was a little chilly and worried that I'd tighten up again, but we donned our fleece jackets and walked to dinner so it wasn't an issue.<br />
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We turned straight to the pasta menu at Poor Boy's Gourmet. We'd never been there but it lived up to its internet reputation nicely--excellent food, very nice people and very reasonably priced. We enjoyed huge bowls of pasta with delicious sauces on their pleasant, mostly-enclosed porch--again, I was afraid I'd be cold, but wasn't--and listened in to some other runners dining at the next table.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvGggSutSEJlFs4U2hVakRDDQ-Jg_fBsstg5_EfVp9IpyA21YTUYZpYJudVFtE47YVpkKiAvM0tdpDIW1ZT6VJNgeFh1VKjNXBBZfj_WD5K-Vipt4asOmCP529qDHRXBRTzH2tgNzR8YN/s1600/IMAG0514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvGggSutSEJlFs4U2hVakRDDQ-Jg_fBsstg5_EfVp9IpyA21YTUYZpYJudVFtE47YVpkKiAvM0tdpDIW1ZT6VJNgeFh1VKjNXBBZfj_WD5K-Vipt4asOmCP529qDHRXBRTzH2tgNzR8YN/s320/IMAG0514.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><br />
I had dessert--white chocolate cheesecake with a chocolate cookie crust and raspberry chambord sauce. Mmmmmmm...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ZTZgLIHDFkCot9gwHm0F8C6ERXe2FqXhRqteOgqW2jvWidxbrCbWYuekROkFzVbmByNQg7cJGQ9yYB0TmnKlnJ2yEsI98hnLBiuUL79zwVxKRVJT1oOov_MTWstZY7l89q5Ln54G4MO2/s1600/IMAG0518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ZTZgLIHDFkCot9gwHm0F8C6ERXe2FqXhRqteOgqW2jvWidxbrCbWYuekROkFzVbmByNQg7cJGQ9yYB0TmnKlnJ2yEsI98hnLBiuUL79zwVxKRVJT1oOov_MTWstZY7l89q5Ln54G4MO2/s320/IMAG0518.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><br />
By then I was nicely stuffed, relaxed and ready to go. We drove back to the cottage, where we reviewed the plans for the morning with Mum and Mary. I took a Tylenol PM and Alan set his alarm for 5:30am. <br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*Mount Desert Island, home of Acadia National Park, Mt. Cadillac, Bar Harbor, Reel Pizza, Little Notch Bakery, Seawall, Blackwoods, Jordan Pond House, Wonderland, the mice from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and so much more.</span>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-47614965090390894092011-08-14T09:42:00.000-04:002011-08-14T09:42:54.858-04:00The Adventure[That's Jeremy's title for what happened Friday afternoon at Choir Camp. And what follows is our joint rendition of that story.]<br />
Friday was the last of five days of singing and fun with 35 kids at our beloved St. Johns.<br />
All had been going well...when suddenly: <span style="font-size: large;"><strong><em>SLAM!</em></strong></span> a door was accidentally closed on Jeremy's fingers!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"OPEN THE DOOR!!!" </span><span style="font-size: small;">Jeremy yelled. </span></div><br />
[more happened at church: the door was opened, the room was cleared of extraneous children, Dr. Creaser made a makeshift splint, freezer pops were applied and a very nice camp mom, Michaelene, sat with Jeremy and kept him company until I arrived....but Jeremy doesn't think that part is interesting.]<br />
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Flash forward to McDonald's where we got a snack and a nice lady gave Jeremy an "ice glove" to replace the now-melted freezer pops [not THAT's interesting...!].<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUzz15Rnu41MUOnuu94XYh5o48pVh3Z9u6VqR8KT8T5ucipKsaT_0CUroLytol2j3fTd6WkBMwoABJnF6fa84o8c-YSUBOmzW4fMlKJLlQSceYPBw0pDuerk39MueUm-WSrfhyG6cZFYJZ/s1600/McDonalds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUzz15Rnu41MUOnuu94XYh5o48pVh3Z9u6VqR8KT8T5ucipKsaT_0CUroLytol2j3fTd6WkBMwoABJnF6fa84o8c-YSUBOmzW4fMlKJLlQSceYPBw0pDuerk39MueUm-WSrfhyG6cZFYJZ/s200/McDonalds.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Then we went to Dr. Martin's office, where Jo-Jo the Monkey sits, and Jeremy was told he needed X-Rays. [Cool!]</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwpDJXjMWIHYwyeEpuI7EUa9yMcbRWGMsPlF0f8MpUIgrEsqt6H-uE9n-othHyzPp0KAez8iouL5BPTYnsXZMi7Pag-B1LEtp_ttVNZey4nkEWM9p0LuGUI9Llwub0BnBex2_huQGxELd/s1600/IMAG0371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLwpDJXjMWIHYwyeEpuI7EUa9yMcbRWGMsPlF0f8MpUIgrEsqt6H-uE9n-othHyzPp0KAez8iouL5BPTYnsXZMi7Pag-B1LEtp_ttVNZey4nkEWM9p0LuGUI9Llwub0BnBex2_huQGxELd/s320/IMAG0371.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5cAGxTqmO2h8fWLfl62EbcIR1o1pchB6gE6o8UpuuMyNaOAeP1mcfzRvdY3SFfK5K4LIDGKvAhdPVrU1FNsXezPpDuiz9gVGCFCOZF_TFdu_3oBz1J93a0s2mmOYEL6q7_JbU1SfU6CYd/s1600/IMAG0373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5cAGxTqmO2h8fWLfl62EbcIR1o1pchB6gE6o8UpuuMyNaOAeP1mcfzRvdY3SFfK5K4LIDGKvAhdPVrU1FNsXezPpDuiz9gVGCFCOZF_TFdu_3oBz1J93a0s2mmOYEL6q7_JbU1SfU6CYd/s320/IMAG0373.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The X-Ray technician was very nice and Jo-Jo got some X-Rays too [but didn't actually make it into the shot].</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXpLivDtj9ezFSzcEvrI82HEbpd9HQlKDHWsB-x3V8KP3X7CP58cmLMB_ANEV56Jp9f2A_zcKGDqi65PdGUUNizqXgXicu5d7eGRiDswaxiD-2V7PeOrygT7ptq7LHKNt90Zq14B16ZfQ/s1600/IMAG0375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXpLivDtj9ezFSzcEvrI82HEbpd9HQlKDHWsB-x3V8KP3X7CP58cmLMB_ANEV56Jp9f2A_zcKGDqi65PdGUUNizqXgXicu5d7eGRiDswaxiD-2V7PeOrygT7ptq7LHKNt90Zq14B16ZfQ/s320/IMAG0375.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcEKBkeC-MSHKa4aYc9iGOEu1lXBlhYtG_-DVR_fJsDKmyjZN7E_bR2aRTAzwtSn1hB0PUkluTukvS_PB0_66XQBfRaGlWilzecopUHWUCWtHCCMwE2iuteu4FT950JHmil68fRU4ocxWy/s1600/IMAG0383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcEKBkeC-MSHKa4aYc9iGOEu1lXBlhYtG_-DVR_fJsDKmyjZN7E_bR2aRTAzwtSn1hB0PUkluTukvS_PB0_66XQBfRaGlWilzecopUHWUCWtHCCMwE2iuteu4FT950JHmil68fRU4ocxWy/s320/IMAG0383.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">[Mom got to watch from the tech room which was really neat.]</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08rJ19HAfozuF-zlL_EI4cdLUSn8Zf9uL1oyMacGLopYfeAJgwxJwBqESnHdd9FXMRNyoAc8FyUDaxpcD5jde3I3qXdImrobbAPO3fMeeb4Y9c0d9xvUWpuuucfsLLNsOWasSIKEWX_Fs/s1600/IMAG0384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08rJ19HAfozuF-zlL_EI4cdLUSn8Zf9uL1oyMacGLopYfeAJgwxJwBqESnHdd9FXMRNyoAc8FyUDaxpcD5jde3I3qXdImrobbAPO3fMeeb4Y9c0d9xvUWpuuucfsLLNsOWasSIKEWX_Fs/s320/IMAG0384.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Here are the actual images on the computer screen:</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyIt5p5VFSzYH13uKu8YzgPJP_gAV2o29KbBD2UYMDM1UWhX5aqdWRtpY8oHjs2fZZCxijVOEaUUCrf4KuhoYhd9Sv70ImKUQSEq8WP3p7n3vMZdGyfEzGtF24glmyBFAYGBoFZgHZorb/s1600/IMAG0387.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyIt5p5VFSzYH13uKu8YzgPJP_gAV2o29KbBD2UYMDM1UWhX5aqdWRtpY8oHjs2fZZCxijVOEaUUCrf4KuhoYhd9Sv70ImKUQSEq8WP3p7n3vMZdGyfEzGtF24glmyBFAYGBoFZgHZorb/s320/IMAG0387.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Verdict from the Doctor? <span style="font-size: large;">No Fractures.</span> Hooray!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And Jeremy made it back to "full contact choir camp" just in time to robe up and sing the Evensong.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0tk3_kD9vn1OUhumpa50Q0ONkklK2CHND00H9g-1c6LsD-N99SZxkdI5yEQvAMEvxQ-7ru3ggXqVqs_qyh6_YGJGRRwuzPSemeX9a1YrGMUeB0F8m501hKIXVd_C9yrd6vuAwgHcgXAo6/s1600/IMAG0400+-+Cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0tk3_kD9vn1OUhumpa50Q0ONkklK2CHND00H9g-1c6LsD-N99SZxkdI5yEQvAMEvxQ-7ru3ggXqVqs_qyh6_YGJGRRwuzPSemeX9a1YrGMUeB0F8m501hKIXVd_C9yrd6vuAwgHcgXAo6/s320/IMAG0400+-+Cropped.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At the reception, Jeremy got hit by a flying grape and bonked his head on a railing. Ouch! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Later on, we all went to Denny's and had a very nice dinner, after which Jeremy fell down in the parking lot and added a scraped elbow, another bonked head, and butt pains to the injury list. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We all agreed that he won the contest for most hurt that day.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCu3_ZAddvi67LHangWLAuTS-YesqKPawHp4Mw4adb7pww39-jDyvQROSqDdTXLGYO_LfxlIz9X1_Bxlg8dNmYFfITfTdqPQ6pths87R9uQo_VqjyU9__9D69AvPvNiit8rm5O4PWiLV5e/s1600/IMAG0402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCu3_ZAddvi67LHangWLAuTS-YesqKPawHp4Mw4adb7pww39-jDyvQROSqDdTXLGYO_LfxlIz9X1_Bxlg8dNmYFfITfTdqPQ6pths87R9uQo_VqjyU9__9D69AvPvNiit8rm5O4PWiLV5e/s320/IMAG0402.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> THE END!!!</span></div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-58887462917397135752011-06-23T11:17:00.000-04:002011-06-23T11:17:51.040-04:00First Day of Summer<span style="color: black;">Tuesday was the first offical day of summer!</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">The kids are finally done with school. We had been informed that the last day of school would be Friday, June 17th (following some post-haste adjustments to in-service and mini-days), but as I stood in the kitchen reading the notice--on April Fools Day while we were all home for yet another snow day--I knew it was an unintentional joke. The real last day of school ended up being on a Monday, and a half day at that. I am not aware of anything other than end-of-school-year parties taking place that day. Frankly, I applaud the teachers just for showing up. Especially the two who are retiring. Oh wait: one of them left for space camp last week. Oh well, good for him! </span><br />
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<div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">I had a day off as well. I will end up working four weekend days this month--very unusual for me--and so I find myself needing to take some time off. For someone who is usually scrimping and saving (take a long lunch to attend a school event--work late; leave early for choir--work through lunch; etc) and often ends up using little bits of vacation time anyway, having the potential to be OVER time for the month is very unusual. The best part is that two of those weekend days "worked" were at a conference on Cape Cod. Rough life, eh? [Actually, while I did have fun, I was pretty exhausted after that trip so I do feel like I deserve the time off.] </span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;"></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="color: black;"><strong>Here's what we did:</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">We all slept in (or rather, awoke and arose of our own accord as opposed to being jolted awake by alarm clocks or cranky parents), had Mac's for breakfast [sorry Clean Food Challenge participants: I am not like you. But more on that later.], lounged around on the deck feeling sticky and getting caffeinated, and watched the chickadees squabbling and gorging at our new birdfeeder.</span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">I made lists: groceries, what James needs to take on his youth group mission trip, what the kids need for clothing, shoes, etc for summer, etc. I love lists.</span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">Alan stayed home to work--discussion groups to manage, papers to grade, comments to be commented upon, comparisons to make between the UMaine campus and the neighborhood where Jack the Ripper wrought havoc...just the usual stuff of online teaching.</span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">The kids and I made sandwiches and packed them in a plastic tub along with crackers and cheese and M&Ms, filled our water bottles and went shopping. </span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div align="LEFT"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;"><strong>First stop: Goodwill</strong></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">We blitzed the place. At one point I had a kid each in 3 of the 4 changing rooms with conversations like this taking place:</span></div><div align="LEFT"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">a kid: "uhhhhh... Mom?" </span></div><div align="LEFT">me: "Doesn't fit? Take it off. Next item!"</div><div align="LEFT"> or</div><div align="LEFT">a kid: "Iloveit, Iloveit, Iloveit..."</div><div align="LEFT">me: "Great! Take it off. Next item!"</div><div align="LEFT"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">They each picked a reusable tote and we filled them with summer pants, tee shirts, and a fleece for James. Shirts, skorts, fleece and flip flops for Madeline. Shorts, shirts, pants, fleece and camouflage faux-crocs for Jeremy. A folding step stool for me. </span></div><div align="LEFT"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">Here they are (annoyed with me for doing the mom-with-the-camera thing, and look at that, James is tormenting his brother) just moments after the actual equinox.</span></div><div align="LEFT">Aaaaaah summer...</div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOjnn8-HhioGxZBC-Eym0Fxl3kmZfLjiJF92CnQn_BmuyiuUZGZFeT_99XnsEsllWWMap-p_pyT982h1nJ1_HxuT3rNH9XZEd3FTIpsKMfiCKaSgPYZiQ88XIlVt-RO-1wITuksAOonYK/s1600/DSC02616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOjnn8-HhioGxZBC-Eym0Fxl3kmZfLjiJF92CnQn_BmuyiuUZGZFeT_99XnsEsllWWMap-p_pyT982h1nJ1_HxuT3rNH9XZEd3FTIpsKMfiCKaSgPYZiQ88XIlVt-RO-1wITuksAOonYK/s320/DSC02616.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div align="LEFT"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;"><strong>Second stop: Hands of Hope Thrift Store</strong></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">Didn't buy anything but I think the kids sat on every couch and comfy chair in the store. .</span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
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</div><div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;"><strong>Third stop: next door to K-Mart</strong></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;">We were just going to get water bottles... but then we saw bathing suits, and we needed flip flops, and underwear...so we ended up spending a while in there. The boys were a bit antsy while Mad tried on suits (with no luck) and we were all near faint from hunger but we survived, used the restrooms and escaped retail mediocrity soon enough.</span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
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</div><div align="LEFT"><span style="color: black;"><strong>Fourth stop: Bangor City Forest</strong></span></div><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">By now it was after 3pm and we were starving! We sat at the picnic table, swatted flies, and watched a bird who seemed very interested in us (and may be the inhabitant of the nest under the picnic shelter). Somewhere between Goodwill and the forest the kids had all managed to don at least one new article of clothing. James had on a giant Fred Flintstone tee shirt. Madeline had a new pink top. Jeremy had on his new "crocs". </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisZ-BI0ppT31Y0OHX6aMtRf45jvBVezgAF9m3VA6mA_Qzk5TxT_nChCoWZ14C8a4j9ivzKaQtsmtlLl0fw6n-qVxjg4kDTqmbIJbj06yz-me9mP8AyzUhucIHqcHGFdC-0oXG3urD8gYS/s1600/DSC02618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisZ-BI0ppT31Y0OHX6aMtRf45jvBVezgAF9m3VA6mA_Qzk5TxT_nChCoWZ14C8a4j9ivzKaQtsmtlLl0fw6n-qVxjg4kDTqmbIJbj06yz-me9mP8AyzUhucIHqcHGFdC-0oXG3urD8gYS/s320/DSC02618.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="color: black;"> Armed with our water and the camera we embarked on a short walk. We saw a frog. </span><br />
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</div><span style="color: black;">I got a phone call from Alan on his new cell phone. I think he did little to no work following the arrival of the T-Mobile delivery. We had a brief conversation which ended with me saying something like "I'm in a bog. I'm going to enjoy nature now. G'bye." And suddenly we were truly IN a bog! We had turned onto the Bog Trail while I was on the phone, not one of us ever considering that the name might be an intentional indicator of what to expect along the way. Duh. James pioneered the way across the first (and ultimately, the most daunting) obstacle. This involved me standing on a floating log to steady it while each in turn made their way across a series of logs, a teetery plank, and some smaller logs more aptly called sticks, while grabbing onto me, some tree branches, and James in turn. Jeremy lost his balance and stepped one foot right in the little body of water almost up to his shorts! He quickly pulled his foot out but the croc stayed behind! "My croc! It's LO-O-OST!" He valiantly reached in to try to find it, but didn't right away and seemed reluctant to try again. I was dreading reaching into the murky water myself but thankfully there was a "bloop" sound and up it popped like a surfacing whale. Yay! Crocs float!</span><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEu6B0NlF8G_NpybsoImxiu20ipA8b49mCBiGMplMRJQJ8phkufBtx1aX-oShU_aN63pVZv_eXrZiApiUGxtggjV3HWw5udV0DzAwSpjmH5WVqLE3JMrNOcNNYnb8MPwrVRckt4ufi61NZ/s320/DSC02636.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our water crossing</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEu6B0NlF8G_NpybsoImxiu20ipA8b49mCBiGMplMRJQJ8phkufBtx1aX-oShU_aN63pVZv_eXrZiApiUGxtggjV3HWw5udV0DzAwSpjmH5WVqLE3JMrNOcNNYnb8MPwrVRckt4ufi61NZ/s1600/DSC02636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"></span></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmuviHdDostp6338xge3pkNXKhAXtc8PkJiVzEpg3nCYFvsLq22UbIxRZOOcpKBafE_miLb4Jj96lRnzxB7JH35uMPxLKimIekOQzpL_eUh_mErqNr2SjPqzVWDDkXf3iHlXuzhYPorzU/s320/DSC02638.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">survivor Jeremy</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmuviHdDostp6338xge3pkNXKhAXtc8PkJiVzEpg3nCYFvsLq22UbIxRZOOcpKBafE_miLb4Jj96lRnzxB7JH35uMPxLKimIekOQzpL_eUh_mErqNr2SjPqzVWDDkXf3iHlXuzhYPorzU/s1600/DSC02638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"></span></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXiGA0CJqSry9HxzdPuvOAzsYhZgLGBHDLxJYntp2NkOK57FS3jvBfpqhiJ9I5wrq5MCnbcdGcSHUldAWAE0klz3w8oq0yGSWjDhOOSWrY12lSYUhXUqeBKFUhGVOZoDG6wG2AX2_iA4MZ/s320/DSC02643.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sometimes the path was clear</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7uDG-hPk2JTYsixRsfHUkaKCfbA8XzHWbn1NNytjMOrH_GL4GGyI8Z8-r6A_y8bFDtQZCTEFOE9Xf0hpNFnSIgYlrEBsq9EsjnSEy409o90Gtiurvb-5hB-OpohWItz5NZA5apsHfjXEq/s320/DSC02642.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sometimes not so much<br />
<div align="left"></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table>There was some nervousness about not know what lay ahead and we were greatly relieved to make it back to the road. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwPCMQUgbl7naiE2Bh5C9j9ezZYMvwLdVwl__0QBbzBoX0J_a3rq-tXk6X8JlgNvV9Jo2ZMYwItS-w9TDc-nBpI9mly1AV83UaJKuRX7RHEFJNRXl3dRQZlXbO7cy-PN4f1G9ujieY9gX/s1600/DSC02644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwPCMQUgbl7naiE2Bh5C9j9ezZYMvwLdVwl__0QBbzBoX0J_a3rq-tXk6X8JlgNvV9Jo2ZMYwItS-w9TDc-nBpI9mly1AV83UaJKuRX7RHEFJNRXl3dRQZlXbO7cy-PN4f1G9ujieY9gX/s320/DSC02644.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Jeremy said he never wants to do the Bog Trail again! But he <strong>does</strong> want to go back to Bangor City Forest. Well, duh!<br />
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<strong>Fifth Stop: HOME! </strong><br />
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Jeremy got a much needed foot bath and we all relaxed for a while. I don't even know what the kids did, really, because Alan and I spent the next hour+ playing with our new phones. Oooooh technology is cooooool. I don't think I made an actual phone call on it until Wednesday. <br />
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I did drink LOTS of water all afternoon and evening. Emilie's doing a cleanse (see <a href="http://www.onemominmaine.com/2011/06/clean-food-challenge-2.html">Clean Food Challenge 2</a> if you're interested). I explained it this way to a friend recently: can you imagine me eating no bread, no chocolate and no cheese?!? The answer is No, not even for just a week. I think it's a great concept. For people who are not me. I did decide that I could do the drink-a-gallon-of-water-a-day part, though. I used to drink lots of ice water at work all day and have sort of gotten out of the habit, so I figured I'd ride Emilie's wake a little and do that part and since her cleanse week started Tuesday the timing was perfect. I managed about 120 oz the first day and the full gallon yesterday. But the straw on my EMMC water jug disintegrated [let's see, the last time I was in the hospital I was having a baby and my youngest child is 7...yeah, time for a new water bottle!] so Alan bought me a new one last night. Now I just have to chug two of these bad boys a day. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJcoDdLl3M5jE5Zqb-q1GLySPI8_QBIyD0JIrA0sNQv0fgsJ7JD35aikIEEIUZFG2BT8nkWcz59SpsPpoOrZKaNvQrlRa8HrMc-Mt0Au6yb0LsY93V7pMbwz89ziQZkihZ3tMRtpXKAC0B/s1600/DSC02646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJcoDdLl3M5jE5Zqb-q1GLySPI8_QBIyD0JIrA0sNQv0fgsJ7JD35aikIEEIUZFG2BT8nkWcz59SpsPpoOrZKaNvQrlRa8HrMc-Mt0Au6yb0LsY93V7pMbwz89ziQZkihZ3tMRtpXKAC0B/s320/DSC02646.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">purple of course!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Easy peasy lemon squeezy, says Jeremy who has comandeered the old jug and is doing his best to keep up (ooh lemon! good idea buddy!).<br />
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Alan and I wrapped up the first day of summer watching a DVRed movie, the end of which failed to record. Ahhg! That's okay, though, because I was a little distracted by frequent pee breaks.<br />
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I also re-started my 100 crunches a day goal and officially registered for the Flamingo Four-Miler on July 17th (anyone want to join me?). Also, I am home today (and blogging) because I have a summer cold, so Yes, summer is here and summer is welome (although I could do without the hacking cough)!<br />
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</div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-37145191547862567602011-06-23T09:41:00.000-04:002011-06-23T09:41:00.356-04:00The New Face of Nana LoisMy mom has been legally blind all my life. If she is conscious, she is wearing glasses. Thick ones. <br />
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If you ask her a queston while she is lying in bed, her first response is "wait a minute, let me put my glasses on" as if she cannot process information or formulate a response without them. <br />
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Every Soule family cat learned early on (first, to bug Dad, because he's the morning person, but in his absence) the way to get Mum up in the morning is to bat her glasses off the night stand. <br />
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She wears them on the boat, at the beach, in the pool and even on the Matterhorn ride at Disney which was a huge mistake because they were immediately flung from her face and smashed to bits. We know because they were mailed to her later by the lost and found department. But that's another story entirely.<br />
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But all that has changed. <br />
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My mom recently had cataract surgery on both eyes (one week apart) which had the bonus advantage of a dramatic reduction in her nearsightedness. We came home from Cape Cod a few weeks ago to find my mother sitting on the couch knitting...<strong>with no glasses on.</strong><br />
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I find this to be very strange. Mum, without glasses, not looking comatose. Weird.<br />
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Here she is (with Dad, naturally) enjoying dessert on Father's Day:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUwdm8g2Pui8XVVHI1sI-lFWB5hjm7fL4Yw7_YETmZhBBubMkTulAL6sFL_gL8vDWGnkiZUnt5kZU0gj3x2qz_qdntMYunwDB31FM_B7tdHYPtHts9-FtxiEA6UjYhEetSbgLBGgDNYhW/s1600/DSC02608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUwdm8g2Pui8XVVHI1sI-lFWB5hjm7fL4Yw7_YETmZhBBubMkTulAL6sFL_gL8vDWGnkiZUnt5kZU0gj3x2qz_qdntMYunwDB31FM_B7tdHYPtHts9-FtxiEA6UjYhEetSbgLBGgDNYhW/s320/DSC02608.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-47139434481750979532011-05-15T14:21:00.000-04:002011-05-15T14:21:25.586-04:00Big Lake Half Marathon: Photographic Proof[I posted this on facebook but here it is for my blogfriends.]<br />
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The Big Lake Half Marathon was a pretty typical one of these events, even down to the professional photographer who camped out on various parts of the course and at the finish to take pictures of us passing by at our wildly varying paces. The images are all then loaded onto a website where you can find the ones of you (by bib number) and purchase them in various sizes or as digital files to upload on your blog.<br />
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Or you can be ultra-cheap and send all your friends the link and your bib number and let them look at the watermarked previews instead. Enjoy!<br />
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My bib number was 16 and Alan's was 17 (that's how early we registered for this thing!). There are even a few of us holding hands just before the finish line (at which point Alan dropped me like a hot potato to check his garmin. That's love!).<br />
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<a href="http://nuvisionactionimage.com/storefront/index.php?do=photocart&viewGallery=10097">http://nuvisionactionimage.com/storefront/index.php?do=photocart&viewGallery=10097</a>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-64612961933262776752011-05-11T21:17:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:56:25.084-04:00Big Lake Half Marathon 2011: Race ReportTime for a classic, long, bloggy race report largely built around a series of pictures...<br />
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<div align="center">1. Here are all the things I planned to wear and/or take with me on race day laid out on a chair in the motel room the night before. I was really pleased with all my wardrobe choices. Although I took obvious care with color-coordination and even ironed the SOuLE MARKS logo onto the thigh of my capris, I was very careful to choose comfort and practicality. I had the track jacket and a pair of long pants on in the am and post-race but was very happy that I chose a loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt and capris to run in. The weather was fabulous--cool and slightly breezy, sunny but not glaringly so..just perfect. There were thunder storms saturday afternoon and evening, but not a drop during the race.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXe0Mfuuy6zVxS7wjqWzQmtTHfPBrY233bVWNBy2OD5Q9mLvg3WqgXdNBa5q1VKXqGRNlTP6uSIWTtphNnO0x57XLle1dixYZI6Zx3M7nz_Ql3b24vkZ27vv0W5CH5ezi6WxRIrmmhCVI/s1600/DSC02156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXe0Mfuuy6zVxS7wjqWzQmtTHfPBrY233bVWNBy2OD5Q9mLvg3WqgXdNBa5q1VKXqGRNlTP6uSIWTtphNnO0x57XLle1dixYZI6Zx3M7nz_Ql3b24vkZ27vv0W5CH5ezi6WxRIrmmhCVI/s320/DSC02156.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">2. Here is Alan ready to go. Across the little pond you can see the crowd of runners forming at the starting line. I found a picture online taken from the start, and I think you can see Alan standing here very tiny in the background. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BI9h-YvdmQQIobSkEwrN3XJPJTcdtyOVcTNbwLrknrkdvhWsworH9Elr00l-G3hnG0EFTU_2CUiF3VxQ21vOvzrtrFKXuddYfX68Mlq8xIb2f_MUNvVC47Tte0kCVjSSFGhleWX0qHcY/s1600/DSC02167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BI9h-YvdmQQIobSkEwrN3XJPJTcdtyOVcTNbwLrknrkdvhWsworH9Elr00l-G3hnG0EFTU_2CUiF3VxQ21vOvzrtrFKXuddYfX68Mlq8xIb2f_MUNvVC47Tte0kCVjSSFGhleWX0qHcY/s320/DSC02167.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">3. And here I am in the same spot, sporting my froggy greenness. At this point, I determined that there was no sense pretending I could get through the lengthy port-a-potty line (just behind the camera), so we gave up and headed to the start. I wasn't desperate and figured I'd take a pit-stop at the aid station around mile 3 or so. Emilie always cries after a big race; I get choked up at the start. The combination of nerves and excitement and starting line pomp gets me all verklempt, but other than that I was feeling good. I saw a woman who looked exactly the way I felt at the start of the MDI Half: she was visibly teary, looked exhausted and was hovering near a tall, supportive-looking fellow. I don't know what ailed her but I felt sooooo sympathetic. It made me realize how incredibly lucky I was to just feel normal.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTmk1SM1WjJvt5PJw8ka9QBH5mYdaiPlAClpP2lenPVU-C-iNIwIuFzJliaTsc-P-NSTyLbZXPRw6flHThAJjQxdoZUyXVaOize997NWLTqG6bhBdP8h3dPPgdQ9MQzXTpAfGtru2Ifosx/s1600/DSC02169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTmk1SM1WjJvt5PJw8ka9QBH5mYdaiPlAClpP2lenPVU-C-iNIwIuFzJliaTsc-P-NSTyLbZXPRw6flHThAJjQxdoZUyXVaOize997NWLTqG6bhBdP8h3dPPgdQ9MQzXTpAfGtru2Ifosx/s320/DSC02169.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">4. This is the part for which there are no pictures (unless I eventually find some on the web). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The horn blew and we mosied our way to the starting line for about a minute and then we ran. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We ran along the bodacious curves of Letter S Road (actual name) and into the center of Alton.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Alan ran with his music on (they changed the rules on that about a week before the race, much to his relief); </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I ran music-free for a while, enjoying the spectators and thanking the volunteers holding traffic for us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Alan cautioned me to watch my speed--I was keeping pace with him--but I felt good. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A mile and a half in, we ran past the finish line (ready and waiting for our return), </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and a bank of port-a-potties (which I ignored).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We ran past our motel and I had no desire to stop for a nap.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We ran past a giant billboard that said "Got Pain?" and I fished out my cell phone and managed to find the camera function and take an almost passable photo while still running and keeping pace with Alan. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I finally put one earbud in and settled in to listen to some music. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I started wondering where we'd seen that pit stop when we drove the course the night before. I was quite convinced it was before the long steep climb and when we hit a nice downhill stretch I pulled ahead, figuring I'd be taking a break soon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">5. This is the view from the Scenic Overlook (around mile 5 I think--we took the picture the night before). By the time I got here I was chatting with a girl named Daija and feeling A. amazed to still be running non-stop particularly since you have to go UP to reach a view like this, and B. like, where in the world is that pit stop anyway??</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">6. [A few more photo-free segments here] I finally found the pit stop just before mile 6 (waaaay further out than I thought it would be) and lost several minutes standing in line for it. I made good use of the time, though, stretching, refueling (dried cherries, dark chocolate covered almonds, cashews and M&Ms) and sucking down lots of water (no reason not to when you're about to pee anyway). Alan blew past me while I was in line and I watched him pull farther and farther ahead and disappear around a bend.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">7. Back on the road, I hit the turn at the top of the loop that told me I was about half way through and brought me back down to lake level. The downhills were a little tricky--I felt like a runaway tractor trailer desperately trying to brake--but then the course was weaving and winding past gorgeous homes, in shady lanes, with many ups and downs. I tried to keep myself chugging along, hoping to be not too far behind Alan by the end, but I didn't have the momentum any more to run non-stop. Every now and then another water stop would come along, most with music, some with people in funny costumes, all with smiling friendly volunteers. They all made me feel like a million bucks even though they didn't know me. A barbershop quartet even sang to me about being 16 (my bib number). I didn't need water thanks to my Camelbak, but I took Gatorade at every chance. This is noteworthy because I hate the stuff: I can only stand it during races.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">8. Around 2 hours in, I decided that it would be prudent to refuel some more, so I pulled out a free Gu-like thing that came in Alan's goody bag. It was strawberry-banana flavored and reeeeally thick. I purposely started sucking on it between water stops so I wouldn't be tempted just to ditch it in the nearest trash can. This was wise. When I finally told myself to imagine it as mashed bananas it made more sense to my palate and wasn't so bad. I think it helped, but can't be sure.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">9. By this time, I felt like I'd done an awful lot of walking, and I was quite certain that Alan was approaching the finish line well ahead of me. On the other hand, I thought maybe I'd kept the walking breaks pretty short because my time was looking good. My general goal was to do better than MDI which was 3 hours and 13 minutes and I really wanted to break 3 hours. My estimates made that look very attainable, but the longer I've been running, the less I trust my math. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">10. And then something strange happened: I turned a corner and was starting up a kind of fierce little hill when I looked up and saw a familiar figure. There was Alan not far ahead of me! I said something like "Holy <a href="mailto:&@#$">&@#$</a>! that's my husband!" to no one in particular, and then I got me some motivation. I caught up to him about 2.5 miles from the finish and we stayed together until the end. I really hope that somewhere there's a picture of the two of us crossing the finish line hand in hand. We were very much together but apparently my bib (attached to my belly--no comments please!) crossed the line before his (attached to his thigh) because the official results put me one second ahead. We weren't announced by the guy with the mike by the finish line chute because another guy was using the PA system to give out the age-group awards somewhere nearby. But as I said in my previous post, that's OK; we were there for us. Our net times were 2:46:56 and 2:46:57. That put Alan about the same as MDI and gave me a PR of about 26 minutes. I'll take it!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">11. Post-race, we drank lots of water and wandered through the food line and then got in line for massages. We probably spent 45 minutes in that line, but it didn't matter. We had ice cream. Homemade. With chocolate sauce. And various other foods. Our medals and tech tees are awesome and colorful and everything was really well organized from online registration right through bag pick-up. There was supposed to be a chance to vote for your favorite water-stop in the "Big Lake Battle" but we never saw anything about that and Alan said the pizza wasn't very good (I opted for a bagel and cream cheese) but neither was a big deal. And I made friends with a great gal named Lucy who kindly took our picture. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">See how happy we are to have made it into the massage tent? </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXmAAhvPQNp_JbbYYmrpRZjdpNABOAZ6f1kvysq0hhlTlLJPtrJB3BU3t1ZFbRQ4zfMNZN6qz-zTEwv7hFOJhwxcdbjDF_ri49yESerfWMg4_MpE3Q4gRilRgn1oIC-VKuw91qBocTy7m/s1600/DSC02170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXmAAhvPQNp_JbbYYmrpRZjdpNABOAZ6f1kvysq0hhlTlLJPtrJB3BU3t1ZFbRQ4zfMNZN6qz-zTEwv7hFOJhwxcdbjDF_ri49yESerfWMg4_MpE3Q4gRilRgn1oIC-VKuw91qBocTy7m/s320/DSC02170.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This lady gave a great massage AND she hammed it up for the photo op! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOWHNo2YaXTtELSVkxOOKR9wuBXVRmBev4_6-1w0aR2I9GxGpIctl5ZUM6Yq3qk4GGoTnwJhhxYrRMBNy6jWHzNd6-m4ZxDsgXa9LQtt_HijCz_nU1b_ftqKU6KVHjZxjtW7w9zSSjCf_/s1600/DSC02172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOWHNo2YaXTtELSVkxOOKR9wuBXVRmBev4_6-1w0aR2I9GxGpIctl5ZUM6Yq3qk4GGoTnwJhhxYrRMBNy6jWHzNd6-m4ZxDsgXa9LQtt_HijCz_nU1b_ftqKU6KVHjZxjtW7w9zSSjCf_/s320/DSC02172.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">12. Back at the motel, I realized we didn't have a good picture of our logo-bedecked thighs. Alan's was on a scrap of fabric pinned to his shorts and mine is ironed right onto my capris (I scorched it a little in the process). I did so well these last two races, since the inauguration of the logo, that I think I'm going to have to be superstitious about it. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Anyway, nice job, legs (all four of you!).</div><br />
<div align="center"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3Fu7CPmlK4-yCeC3058nV4_dt6r66nYPQdrSfa9zUn2HgKzFibOh9zvQgfzSE_HAyP8TUEyFYA-m_wdawdZAF7CdhyVofsx0ZSX1hTbuLX3srZzzicuRTxe9K5xl_7cMfxeTMlT0LPra/s1600/DSC02186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs3Fu7CPmlK4-yCeC3058nV4_dt6r66nYPQdrSfa9zUn2HgKzFibOh9zvQgfzSE_HAyP8TUEyFYA-m_wdawdZAF7CdhyVofsx0ZSX1hTbuLX3srZzzicuRTxe9K5xl_7cMfxeTMlT0LPra/s320/DSC02186.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-62867385874025245572011-05-08T21:17:00.000-04:002011-05-08T21:17:20.037-04:00Race Report: Animal Orphanage 5k 2011[I know, this isn't THE EXCITING EVENT that you're eager to read about, but I have to do this in the proper order. I slapped these photos into a draft post right before we headed off to NH expecting to finish it from the motel room, but when we got there Alan's laptop said "detecting no available networks" so we were wireless-less...until a brief period on Saturday afternoon...but that's for the next post.]<br />
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THIS post is about the Animal Orphanage 5K (and pet run) on May 1, 2011, involving all five of us plus Nana and Gumpy. We gathered at the Old Town YMCA sporting the matching tee-shirts I made. They have our names on the front...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6BYL_3B6zekGkBtESHhdBPFtuibG0_OW4pMKZhQO6bbhR9iiR10IrNLeFvAALmC6cXCT0iF5mVCFHXl-ZZ0XoykvK9vHmcQySIZJbt3WLPmeDPpSzTxzzS0WgUj3vpsrUwSiMPe_YGoXR/s1600/DSC02133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6BYL_3B6zekGkBtESHhdBPFtuibG0_OW4pMKZhQO6bbhR9iiR10IrNLeFvAALmC6cXCT0iF5mVCFHXl-ZZ0XoykvK9vHmcQySIZJbt3WLPmeDPpSzTxzzS0WgUj3vpsrUwSiMPe_YGoXR/s320/DSC02133.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
...and our new logo on the back. [In case you can't see it in this picture, it says "SOuLE MARKS" and has a shoe print.]<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QmQwXOMOI8Ub_Xhq9gZPquwa5X6n0ymPokOrIiKeMMtS-ptaeWGjyA-EsxUawbpKmPSASEZcI4b_yAvtBvBWEJYn4gw7k-F5bM9X6DyucycUwhgI8KQjtxRGktPTw6R9Y7XVLcoSWOv0/s1600/DSC02135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QmQwXOMOI8Ub_Xhq9gZPquwa5X6n0ymPokOrIiKeMMtS-ptaeWGjyA-EsxUawbpKmPSASEZcI4b_yAvtBvBWEJYn4gw7k-F5bM9X6DyucycUwhgI8KQjtxRGktPTw6R9Y7XVLcoSWOv0/s320/DSC02135.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
These photos were all taken after the race and we don't have much in the way of "during" shots because we were all IN it so we had no one parked at the finish line to witness. The official results show this, however:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
62 12/28 81 Nancy Marks 42 F 31:41 10:12<br />
63 14/20 80 Alan Marks 43 M 31:55 10:17 </div><br />
Yes, folks, it finally happened: I chicked* my husband. Woo hoo! He got an early lead while I sort of checked in with the kids at the start and then I spent a long time trying to catch up. At mile 2 I was just about there and then *gasp!* he stopped to walk!! I didn't expect that and when I patted him on the back and said "get moving" I thought he'd follow but it just wasn't his race. I had my best 5k ever and he was disappointed to have backslid from the week before. I'm sorry for him but I gotta admit, it felt good being the first Marks over the line for a change! He said he figured it was just a matter of time before I caught up to his pace. I always figured his long legs would keep me at bay... <br />
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In other dramatic news, James and Madeline earned awards for 1st and 2nd in their respective age groups! James ran the first 2 miles without stopping (which was his goal) and Madeline ran the first mile and a half (more than her goal) without stopping, and Jeremy ran the whole last tenth of a mile <strong><em>really fast </em></strong>(we wouldn't let him run before that). Nana and Gumpy crossed the finish line as walkers hand in hand. Go team!!!! Here, the kids show off their tees, ribbons and smiles back home on the deck:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0KMvmN75qXS_J3ej7zo2bT2NFAqpYco55VvvLG50BqnNeRfk6Mb2EwTGs3qGDGy8AXWDXF2cQfevltBfu4kBueXvjejHS3kvwYq2hNGNQu9ltVyvpuli-vP3aR9E3e6o3Oc8SrKIjc5w/s1600/DSC02136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0KMvmN75qXS_J3ej7zo2bT2NFAqpYco55VvvLG50BqnNeRfk6Mb2EwTGs3qGDGy8AXWDXF2cQfevltBfu4kBueXvjejHS3kvwYq2hNGNQu9ltVyvpuli-vP3aR9E3e6o3Oc8SrKIjc5w/s320/DSC02136.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Everyone had fun and it was a great day for Team SOuLE MARKS!!</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*chick (verb), in road racing, when a girl finishes ahead of a guy, often dramatically. To be chicked is to be beaten by a girl. Alan is of course accustomed to having lots of women finish before him, but never his wife. Until now. he he he</div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2982721079202706685.post-47006979103648846322011-05-06T06:56:00.001-04:002011-05-06T08:10:02.139-04:00Race Report: 4.20 Healthy High 5kOn April 20th (4/20), Alan and I ran the "Healthy High" 5k, a little race in its 4th year, put on by the Alcohol and Drug Education Program at UMaine. This was our first road race of the season and a big deal for me because it was the anniversary of my first road race ever last year. A lot of the races we have planned for this year are repeats of last year with the simple goal of doing better than we did last time. One reason why I chose this race last year is because it starts and finishes at the UM Rec Center which is across the street from my office. The race starts (theoretically) at 4:20pm (ten minutes before the end of my normal work day) right next to the lot where I park for work every day. This makes it very convenient for me, although not-so-much for all the other university employees who are trying to bolt from campus at 4:30. My advice: next year plan to run or spectate. So there. Actually, that's my one big suggestion to the organizers: get the whole campus involved--make it a super fun event to watch, have contests for the best cheering section, etc.<br />
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So anyway....the weather was crazy all day long! Way crazier than last year. This April 20th included a strange assortment of rain, slush and hail. Several hail storms in fact. In the end I was really glad that the roads were clear--no slush at all--even though I could still see white on the grass in a few places. I do sort of almost a little bit regret that I can't claim bragging rights for running in a hail storm. That would have been bada$$, man...!<br />
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We left Mum & Dad at our house with the kids and Stacy joined them, too. They all stood across the street in the mist and the cold to wait to see us pass and then the kids and the Gumps drove to the finish line and to hang out at the Rec Center after.<br />
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I had a great run and I owe a of it to bib #1, Dr. Dana, the VP for Student Affairs at UM. I fell into step with him shortly after the start and felt really comfortable there so we ran the whole way together. Neither one of us wanted to stop running so we just kept each other going. And he is so well know and well loved on this campus that every step of the way someone was there clapping, cheering, cracking jokes, waving and smiling. And he greeted everyone he knew, even shaking hands with the volunteers and asking after family members, but he never stopped. Together we kept a very consistent, relatively easy pace. It was kind of like being in a parade with a politician, but it totally worked for me. Remember how much I love external motivation? Well, it turns out that I don't even care if it's really being directed at the guy next to me. I ate it up.<br />
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I only have a few shaky, damp looking pictures on our camera and haven't gotten Mum's off their camera yet, but someone was taking finish line shots and I found this one on the web. You can see Dr. Dana in the background--I didn't dust him exactly, he paused to talk to the race organizer, one of his star employees.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUckG8w6pgWQMqmUCc56K992NQtx6kamCzP8Jf4pmuUaIM5OD43NvszUIj5LvIELr6OV_niUY34ubyenwogmFnwkukr-n5qVnS8CvNPlYlOJ7MZ1To6VHB-FqfzGfd38P5fICoupBBB3m/s1600/5640736260_1018c554d0_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUckG8w6pgWQMqmUCc56K992NQtx6kamCzP8Jf4pmuUaIM5OD43NvszUIj5LvIELr6OV_niUY34ubyenwogmFnwkukr-n5qVnS8CvNPlYlOJ7MZ1To6VHB-FqfzGfd38P5fICoupBBB3m/s320/5640736260_1018c554d0_b.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Finally, a half decent picture of me running.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Alan did GREAT! He knocked 2 minutes off his time from last year and finally broke 30 minutes (net time).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The race was well organized. Laurie Sidelko's done a great job creating and developing the event. They added a 10k this year, and had several sponsors and tons of snacks waiting for us at the Rec Center. I know they were disappointed with the turnout--they had 500 people pre-registered but a lot of no-shows on account of the weather. You can't contral that, especially not in April in Maine.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
Official Gun Times:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">152/259 Alan Marks 30:00</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">190/259 Nancy Marks 34:01</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Nancyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00212872662744437419noreply@blogger.com0