Tag Archives: Massachusetts

52 Weeks, 52 Runs. No. 8: Did 5K just become longer?

Posted on February 21, 2012 | 12 comments

Despite the absence of official beer, I had high hopes for last weekend’s 5K run, the Old Fashioned 10 Miler and Flat 5K in Foxboro, MA. This was primarily due to the distinct lack of hills. Or sand. Or sand in hill form. Glee!

Old Fashioned 10 Miler and Flat 5K

Our shadows waiting for the starting gun.

Hills and I have a long, troubled history, and sand is a recent addition to the list of things that give me the fear, so I wasn’t at all upset that they both decided to make themselves scarce. Add to the mix some brilliant weather (if this is winter then I’m a marathoner), and the fact I had a running buddy who shares the same pace as me, and things were looking up.

With the blazing sun at our backs, Running Buddy and I started off strong … Probably too strong … Definitely too strong (when I say “strong,” I mean a 10.20 pace. It’s all relative, of course). We were going great guns until mile marker No. 2 loomed (when I say “great guns,” I mean me wheezing like a cat with a hairball, and taking my inhaler more than I would have thought necessary. But still, we didn’t stop).

But back to that mile marker …

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52 Weeks, 52 Runs. No. 7: Didn’t sand a chance

Posted on February 15, 2012 | 13 comments

I grew up in Sydney’s western suburbs, an hour’s drive from the nearest beach, so I didn’t get many chances to channel my inner bronzed Aussie. I hated getting sand in all the wrong places, couldn’t surf, and was scared of the waves after I got too big for my dad’s shoulders. The only time I ever ran (i.e., stumbled ineffectually) was when I needed food and had to traverse lava-hot sand in order to get it. Needless to say, I was an inelegant beach-goer.

I adore the beach now – but not much has changed, it would seem.

Frosty Knuckle 5K

Me vs. the water at the Frosty Knuckle 5K in Salisbury, MA.

As part of my 52 Weeks, 52 Runs challenge, Hubby and I signed up for the Frosty Knuckle 5K at Salisbury Beach, MA (actually, it was a 3.5-miler, but 5K sounded snappier). I was excited about this road/beach run as I figured it would make for a fun change from all the dullsville paved surfaces. Also, there are no hills down by the water! Or so I thought …

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52 Weeks, 52 Runs. No. 6: Riding in buses with runners

Posted on February 7, 2012 | 19 comments

A diabolical duo of DIY runs these past two weeks proved what I already knew: unless there’s T-shirts, assorted malty beverages, and a crowd to propel me forward (fear of shame is a great motivator), I’m an epic failure as a runner. So I was excited to get back to my regularly scheduled 52 Weeks, 52 Runs programming by suiting up for the Super Sunday 5 in Cambridge, MA. I figured at the very least, the race would erase from my mind the ignominy of the great treadmill and wind debacles of 2012.

Super Sunday 5

And we're off. The slightly blurry start (for all) and finish (for most).

In addition to its shame-eradicating properties, Sunday’s event promised beer and general Super Bowl Day merriment (with music courtesy of BearFight, “Boston’s premier hard-rock party band”). Also, it benefited Target Cancer, Cycle Kids, East Cambridge Little League, Broad Institute, and LIVESTRONG. Reasons enough to come out in the cold. But what really sealed the deal for me was the presence of the famed Boston party bus The Bustonian.

Super Sunday 5

Hmmm, which to choose?

The race was ostensibly a five-miler, but organizers wisely figured that some people (i.e., me) might want to ditch after 3.1, so the rockin’ bus was there – complete with festive lighting and party music – to transport us back to the start.

Can I have The Bustonian on standby every time I do a race? It’s the dream!

I was a bit sad that I didn’t just get to ride the bus with a cold one (beer, not vampire) for the duration of the 5K, but I guess this 52 Weeks, 52 Runs challenge requires me to, you know, run …

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52 Weeks, 52 Runs. No. 3: The power of chowder

Posted on January 19, 2012 | 5 comments

I was miffed when Old Man Winter decided to drop by last weekend. I mean, can’t he schedule his visits for mid-week, when I haven’t committed to being outdoors for 45 minutes in tights and no jacket? With a cold.

Had the Run for Your Lunch 5.5K in Middleboro, MA, not been for such a fantastic cause (and had I not publicly declared my intention to run 52 races this year), I may have decided to sit this one out. But, despite protestations by my nose, I was happy to run in support of the new All Are Welcome Community Kitchen and Bakery, which is dedicated to providing access to nutritious meals to those who need them.

And it could have been worse. We could have been in New Hampshire.

Run for Your Lunch 5.5K

Running assassin!

Mask and you
shall receive

I have learned many lessons over the past month or so about dressing for winter runs. But until this particular day, I had not experienced the genius that is the running balaclava.

Hubby was kind enough to hand his over when he saw my formerly red nose turning blue at the start of the run, and I was happy to accept this multi-talented piece of fabric. Not only does it take your running ensemble to new levels of absurdity (see left), it also conceals any and all instances of tomato-face. And after the run, you can go rob a bank or two if you feel so inclined.

OK fine, it also functions as a hat and a neck warmer, although trying to manipulate it between these states as you are running a blistering 10:50 mile pace is somewhat challenging (I believe I looked as though I had hair-ears at one point. Not ear hairs, but ears made of hair).

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52 Weeks, 52 Runs. No. 2: Or how I learned to stop worrying and love hills (kind of)

Posted on January 10, 2012 | 23 comments

A side effect of becoming a “runner” (I use the term loosely) is that I now apparently have the ability to stop traffic. It’s every girl’s dream, yes? This skill was on display during last weekend’s South Shore YMCA Frozen 5K (the second of my 52 Weeks, 52 Runs challenge) as I ran solo – hair blazing, face subtly aglow – through a forbidding intersection and coolly waved to a handful of Quincy police officers who were standing around looking bored. “Don’t mind me, guys. This kind of thing happens all the time.”

OK, it may not have gone down quite like that.

I did run through a forbidding intersection, but my hair was plastered to my neck and my face was its usual shade of bright crimson. (I could tell.) At this point, the Speedy McSpeedersons had finished or were close to it, and the rest of the runners – who had clearly become lost – were behind me. So I was briefly, and disconcertingly, solo. I did wave to the fine officers of the Quincy PD as they used their mad skills to hold back the throbbing traffic, but it probably looked less like a nonchalant thank you than a deranged “Holy crap!”

Quincy YMCA Frozen 5K

Running like the wind (but slowly enough that I can take my phone out of my shorts and snap a photo). So, really, running like the breeze.

Despite the pain suggested by my facial hue, things were pretty good. I had just come off an amazing downhill stretch that gave me a burst of energy, and I was feeling free and almost speedy. Even my lungs were playing along. Maybe I was born to run after all!

This sensation lasted for about a minute and a half …

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