Today’s run: 4.97 miles, 52:04. YT: 200.72. Rain, rain, rain. Cold, cold rain. Hundreds of dripping runners. 10% pleasure in our hard-core devotion; 90% WTF am I doing standing in the freezing rain preparing to run 5 miles with a bunch of crazy people? I’m calling it the Race of 8000 Tears.

What I liked about this race:

• Experiencing the camaraderie of the craziness of the whole endeavor with fellow runners.
• Knowing that I was capable and prepared – obviously not to win, but to run “my race.”
• Running in a pack, when I’m used to solitary runs.
• Finally having a race T-shirt, and with my favorite color.

What I didn’t like:

• Having to pick up my bib at 6:30 a.m.
• Being numb and soaked by the time the race started.
• Being numb again two minutes after the race had ended.
• The fact that my Nike Plus was totally inaccurate, so that I ran a much slower race than I thought I had, despite what felt like maximum effort.

Despite being so short, this was a very hard race for me, and not a very fun one. But I guess it was the race I was meant to run.

My job, which brought me to NY, is challenging right now. And getting up on a morning of howling wind and rain, and doing what I set out to do, to the best of my ability, is the rule of the day.

I did it, and survived to tell the tale. I’ll go to sleep, and wake up to work again tomorrow. This time, inside, at my laptop, with a different kind of challenge.

At least I know I can do it – and stay dry, too.

Today’s run: 4.1 miles, 42:50 minutes. YT : 162.61. Today was my first run in the gym, since NYC was as pictured: Full of snow. I saw a woman sink her foot ankle deep in slush. She took it well. Most people were well-suited in galoshes. (Wellies?) I picked my way across Union Square in sneakers to head to the gym, praying I wouldn’t end up in a slush-puddle. I was amazed at the yards upon yards of sidewalk that were shoveled by some mysterious army during the hours before I was brave enough to leave my apartment.
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It was my first gym visit in a while, and I was thrilled at first to step onto a treadmill that had about 60 different options for training routines – and virtual trainers! After five minutes of fiddling and despair, I ended up on a manual setting anyway. Sometimes simpler is better.

Today’s run: 1.4 miles, 14.40. YT: 144 miles. Yeah – I was supposed to do 2.7 but bailed on this and did some stretching and a LITTLE strength work when I got home. My muscles just felt so sluggish and all of me felt a tiny bit jangley, i guess from 10 miles yesterday.

My Temporary Hood in NY

Last run in LA for the next few weeks!! I’ll be traveling tomorrow and hopefully logging my first NY run of the visit on Weds, if weather doesn’t keep me off the road. A snow storm is brewing.

Today’s run: 1.4 miles, 15 minutes. YT: 102.8. A short run as a warmup for some strength work. Today I saw two things of interest. A white man talking on a cell phone, wearing a black hoodie that said, “An American Minority” on the back. And two, a white paper sign on the sidewalk that said, “Clean up your poop.” The interesting thing about the sign was that it was actually *under* a piece of dog poop, which meant the aggrieved individual went to quite a lot of (icky) trouble to make his point.

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Artist Rebecca Floyd - http://www.images.com/artist/rebecca-floyd/

Trace talks today about how she feels when asked, “Why do you run?”

It made me think about a question I’ve bumped up against before: Are we inevitably running to run away from something? Is running just the healthy version of drinking, a cloud of endorphins replacing a tipsy glow?

Maybe. But at least when we’re ready to do the work of healing, we’re healthy and strong, not hungover and cranky.

And so, my answer to the question, “Why do you run?” – or at least to why I started running: To get over a break up, of course. Why else?

Well, more or less.

It was actually 6 months after my “official” breakup, but if you’ve ever been in a serious long-term relationship, you know that ending things isn’t like crossing the bridge from the US to Mexico. It’s a long, painful transatlantic flight to Siberia. It takes time.

Come September 2009, I had landed in Siberia, alone.