And The Livin' Is Easy

I recently went on a yoga retreat in California. Yes, that is as wonderful and outrageous as it sounds. In the morning after the fog burned off, there was a view of Santa Barbara and the Pacific Ocean. There were dogs and kids and a hot tub on a cliff. There was fresh goat cheese, and there were spectacular sunsets. There were upwards of five hours of yoga each day, taught energetically and lovingly by one Miss Kerri Kelly. There was a class with a dance party (featuring Lady Gaga, natch), and a class in a field around a nectarine tree. There was a class with a soundtrack of classic love songs, and 25+ spry yogis decked out in their Lulus enthusiastically singing along.

Unfortunately, there was also a trampoline. Scratch that: Unfortunately I decided to jump on the trampoline, and even more unfortunately, I landed on the off-bounce and tore the ACL graft I had repaired just last year. Wah wah.

But before we start wallowing about that, let's talk about the food. The yoga retreat was about detoxing, but that didn't stop us from enjoying homemade pear ravioli. Or wine-tasting in Los Olivos. No retox is complete without a stop at In-N-Out Burger for a cheeseburger, animal-style, and a superthick chocolate shake. Similarly, no California trip is complete without fresh salads (liberally sprinkled with bacon, of course) and sushi and a cocktail made with sake and watermelon and cucumbers and sweetly named the "Hello Kitty."

As for my knee, well, it looks like it'll be another summer of rehab fun. Thank god for wine and percocet.

Run Forrest Run

On Sunday I ran the Nike Women's Half-Marathon in San Francisco for the 2nd year in a row (well, the third, if you count that I did it in 2006 as the first half of the FULL marathon!). Last year, I PR'd on this course, which is insanely hard. Obviously I hadn't been pushing hard enough during easier (read: flatter) races. Anyhoo, I went out yesterday just 3 weeks after Berlin and not having run more than a few miles since then. I started out all gung-ho (with the 9:44 pace group, natch) and at about mile 3 my legs firmly indicated that they were having none of it. About halfway through, up yet another ginormous hill, I decided to relax and enjoy the race, which meant taking the uphills easy, pushing a bit on the downhills, and smiling a lot. And also not trying to beat last year's 2:12 finish, which I think was an excellent decision, especially given how sore my calves were this morning anyway.

I finished in 2:19 and I had fun doing it. After the race, we spent about 2 hours cheering the full-marathoners until we were hoarse. We met new friends (hi Lin!) for lunch in Mountain View, then went home and drank wine and ordered pizza (because we were really and truly too tired to move - there was almost a fight over who would answer the doorbell when the delivery arrived) and caught up on True Blood. It was kind of perfect.

After the race, with my favourite cheerleader:The deets for you running nerds:
Time: 2:19:37.430
Pace (Min/Mi): 10:39
Overall Rank: 2935
Female Rank: 2704
F30-34 Rank: 472
Splits:
5k 0:32:47.420 10:33
10k 1:05:06.320 10:28
15k 1:41:34.370 10:53

Back to California

Strawberry Shortcake
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

Last weekend I made the first of 2008's pilgrimages to California. We arrived at SFO to unusually warm weather, and after a stop for the most delicious burrito in the world, or at least North America we drove down Hwy 1 through Pacifica to Half Moon Bay. We stopped on Hwy 92 to buy strawberries, which were advertised at $6/box. We both thought it was sad that we could get California strawberries cheaper in NY right now until we learned that a box didn't mean what we thought it meant - it meant SIX of what we thought it meant! Six dollars garnered us a half-flat of sweet, ripe berries the size of small apples, which we couldn't even finish in our short stay (though not for lack of trying). Above: Possibly my most delicious birthday cake ever.

And You May Ask Yourself

As you may have deduced from my most recent Flickr pics, I was in Canada last weekend to do some recruiting at my alma mater, visit my peeps in Waterloo, and run a 10k.

Dog & I flew back from Buffalo and when a handy email from Orbitz alerted us that our flight was delayed an hour we decided to detour through Niagara Falls. Yeah, we just decided to stop and see the Falls, like you might stop to get gas at a Shell station. Just like last year when I used to occasionally go for a run at lunchtime - across the Brooklyn Bridge. Oh and tonight after work, I'm going to swing over to a little venue around the corner from my office to see a band play - just the band that pretty much defined my high school musical experience.

Then tomorrow morning? Oh, you know, we're flying to San Francisco for a wedding and to celebrate someone's (ahem) 34th (dear god, how did I get so far past 30?) birthday (it's on Saturday, in case you're keeping track of these things - express shipping will still get my gift here on time, even!). And I was informed last night that I will need to take Monday off work and change my Sunday evening flight to Monday afternoon. Can do.

At the very least, two 5-hour flights mean plenty of time for writing, in particular for finishing the draft posts I've started in the midst of all this wonderfulness. Stay tuned.

2:12!

I PR'd this morning! (For all you non-runners, PR == personal record. Hardcore, eh?) That means I won. For me. The course was *hard*, and while I remembered the suck hill at mile 6, I forgot about the one at mile 8. It was tough, but I worked it, and I really wanted that PR. I pushed through and finished one minute faster than my previous best-time for a half.

My final time was 2:12:01, which is 10:04 minute miles. W00t! Afterwards, I spent 2+ hours cheering for TNT marathoners, and this afternoon got drunk from a single glass of white wine. Good times.

Splits:

Mile 1: 10:45 [crowded start - probably good for my pacing]
Mile 2: 10:16
Mile 3: 10:04
Mile 4: 10:36
Mile 5: 9:53
Mile 6: 9:34
Mile 7: 11:20 [GIANT uphill]
Mile 8: 9:04
Mile 9: 10:43 [another big hill]
Mile 10: 10:20
Mile 11: 9:24
Mile 12: 10:19 [gradual uphill in Golden Gate Park]
Mile 13: 9:40

San Francisco Take 2

Aw Yeah
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

I'm back in SF for the Nike Women's Marathon (this year just the half, since NYC is only 2 weeks away). I arrived last night, the weather is perfect, and I have the most luxurious of accomodations. A bunch of incredible women with whom I've been training and fundraising for the past 5 months are going to kick 26.2 miles' worth of ass tomorrow, and I couldn't be more proud and inspired.

Go Team!

Run Like A Girl

I'm back with Team in Training - this year as a mentor for the Nike Women's Marathon (yes, the very one that was my first marathon last year) and the NYC Marathon. Since they're only 3 weeks apart, I'll only be running the half in SF.

I can't wait.

Linky-Loo

In my brain this week:

Mark Morford thinks innocence is overrated (and I have to agree):

Drama is what we are designed for. Emotional (and physical, and spiritual) scarring and discoloration is, in a way, what we do. Our spirits are, after all, here to experience and taste and immerse in it all.

Mark Morford (yes, again) on change:

Here's the trick: Those things that you feel most terrified about releasing, that seem to contain your entire identity and without which you wouldn't fully recognize yourself, well, maybe they should be the first things to feel the razor: jobs, cars, hair, photographs, bedsheets, houses, ideologies, religions. To what do you cling? What holds all your fear of change?

Also from the Left Coast, San Francisco considers banning plastic grocery bags, giving us all another reason to be hopeful in this crazy world. (link via Slashfood)

I love New York.

And finally, in less than 30 seconds this video will make you laugh:

Another Birth Day!

The population explosion continues with the birth of the lovely Miss Cara, who entered this crazy world on Saturday morning in California. Many congratulations to her mom & dad, and big brother Ewan, all of whom are happy and healthy!

(This bodes well for UFF readership, which will practically double by the time these kids can read. You know, in 2011 or so.)

Groceries And The City: Part 2

In the heady days of FreshDirect first delivering to the BK, I was receiving at least one order a week from them. I loved that each fresh-food item had its own label that said, "Packaged for Gillian on ." I loved not lugging around the granny cart, and not carrying bags up the stairs. I also loved the occasional freebie that FD threw in. I had the idea that FD should team up with Epicurious so that when I was browsing recipes I could just add all the ingredients to my cart, and not long ago, FD introduced shopping by recipes! Woot!

On the other hand, while I kind of loved having boxes for recycling newspapers, but I didn't love the excessive packaging stylings of FD (they've since gotten much better about consolidating items).

Last year, a new outpost of Fairway opened in Red Hook, Brooklyn, about 2 1/2 miles south of our apartment in Park Slope. One Sunday morning, on a mission to check out Baked, also in Red Hook, DLang and I walked down to the 'hood. We ate delicious scones with strong coffee chasers, then walked down the street to check out Fairway.

I felt like I was home. Fairway in Red Hook has the little happinesses of a suburban grocery shopping experience, like a parking lot (!) and aisles wide enough to accommodate bona fide shopping carts. They have bins of neatly-stacked, fresh produce. And then there are the things that make shopping at Fairway a special experience, like signs enthusiastically recommending a particular goat cheese or coffee blend, and the half-dozen or so samples of olive oil from around Europe and even California.

Subsequent visits, the second of which was on Saturday, did not disappoint. This weekend, after stopping at the deli and meat counters, I took a coffee break in the café, which is right on the water and has a spectacular view of the Statue of Liberty. When I finally arrived at checkout with an overflowing cart, there was no waiting at all, and I breezed right on through. (Did I mention that Fairway delivers for the same price as FD?)

And so, while I'm still quite enamoured with grocery shopping while sitting on the couch in my pajamas, I'm going to take a little break from FreshDirect and start a weekly brick-and-mortar grocery shopping adventure. I think I could get used to a Sunday morning walk down to the water, a stop for breakfast, and an hour (or two) wandering up and down the aisles of this amazing store.

P.S. Brianna posted an excellent NYC grocery store rant yesterday - it's very frustrating living in a NYC neighbourhood in which Key Food, D'Ags, or even Gristedes are your best grocery options. At least when I lived on the Upper West Side, the 24-hour Duane Reade at the end of my block sold Ben & Jerry's.

Groceries And The City: Part 1

On a recent trip to D.C., one of the highlights was a visit to Trader Joe's. The brief stop made me long for suburban grocery stores with wide aisles and 56 brands of salad dressing and the irony of throwing reusable cloth shopping bags in the back of one's Subaru wagon. This weekend, then, when I found myself with both a rental car and a Super Bowl party shopping list as long my iPod playlist, I did what any displaced small-town girl would do: I went to Fairway.

My first NYC grocery experience was surprisingly good. I'd just moved into my apartment on the Upper West Side, and had nothing except a couple of suitcases. My company put me up in a hotel for two nights during which time I purchased a futon, bedding, and a towel. As my truckload of stuff wasn't due to arrive from California for another week or two, I wandered out to Broadway and found Zabar's. I went upstairs to the housewares section where I purchased a plate and glass (both of which I still have and use). I had a brief affair with Zabar's, going there regularly on my way home from work to buy some exotic cheese or other and delicious loaves of Eli's bread.

At some point I ventured a few blocks south and into Fairway, and I was hooked. The quality of Fairway's produce rivaled that to which I'd become accustomed in California. I found exotic sauces like pomegranate marinade, and I spent way too much money on them. I always bought more than I could carry home, and usually ended up taking the bus. Once, while toting about 6 bags, one of which contained a giant bouquet of fresh basil, I overheard a kid exclaim, "Dad! Something smells like spaghetti!"

When I moved to Brooklyn, I was disappointed in the lack of good grocery stores. I almost immediately started visiting the green market regularly on Saturday mornings, and supplemented our pantry with unexciting (and sometimes downright discouraging) stops at D'Agostino's (overpriced) or Key Food (yuck). Shortly thereafter, FreshDirect started delivering in our 'hood, and I started regularly internetting my way to yummy food (and wine! and beer! and even kitty litter!) delivery, which I didn't even have to carry up five flights of stairs.

To be continued...

On The Mat

While recent UFF postings have been sporadic, I'm sure that my faithful readers (both of you) are keeping up using the wonders of modern technology (Praise RSS!) and you'll be happy to know that I have many inspiring entries in store. That pesky day job keeps getting in the way of blogging. Donations are welcome.

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

During my recent trip to California, I had the opportunity to attend an introductory Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class at the Ralph Gracie Academy in Mountain View. I'm pretty sure that had such an excursion been suggested to me a few years ago, my response would have been a firm "Thanks but no thanks." However, given my recent forays into athleticism (see: Triathlon, Marathon, and Boxing), and safe in the knowledge that knowing nothing about martial arts AT ALL meant that I'd have nothing to prove, when MFD suggested it to me, and I believe somewhat to his surprise, I enthusiastically agreed to try it out.

The Academy is located in kind of a strip mall on El Camino Real in Mountain View. I borrowed a gi and changed in the bathroom, in which hung the sign: "Please! If you must throw up, do it in the toilet, not the sink. Thank You." Heh. And, ew.

I warmed up a little, and then one of the resident black-belts, Gumby, came over to help with my introductory lesson. He explained the principles of jiu-jitsu, and showed me a number of moves, including the oopa (mount escape), guard pass, and posture in guard. I practiced each one a bunch of times. I was kind of meh at some of them, including the bridge, which is strange because Urdhva Dhanurasana is one of my favourite yoga postures. He also showed me three attacks: the cross choke, the Americana shoulder lock (that's a good instructional video, but remember kids, these are trained professionals. Don't try this at home), and an armbar from mount. Watch out: If you lie still and don't defend yourself at all, I could really annoy you.

Both Gumby and MFD (who goes by Canada in these parts) were incredibly patient and encouraging, and the experience was surprisingly unintimidating. After about half an hour of instruction/practicing, Canada asked Don (whose nickname, if he has one, I didn't catch) to spar with me. Ack! So much for unintimidating. I kind of didn't want to do it, but hey, I was there, so I tried out my new moves.

In sparring that first time I learned something valuable: Jiu-jitsu is *hard*. Don, a brown belt, was very nice to me, and I'm quite aware of the fact that he could have kicked my ass from here to Sunday (read: effortlessly choked me unconscious and/or broken one of my limbs). Don, should you ever read this, thanks for not doing either of those things. I really like having two functioning arms. I tried to apply some of the stuff I'd learned, but in the moment, it was difficult to remember which hand went where and when. The technique seemed logical but complicated, and I really appreciated the amount of work these guys put into training.

To round out the experience, I watched Canada and Don spar for a while. To my untrained eye, these guys looked amazing. I also extra-want to keep both of them on my good side (see: unconsciousness, broken limbs).

Big thanks to everyone at the academy, including Batata (who runs the place), Gumby, Don, and Canada. I felt very welcome and would love to come back next time I'm in the Bay Area. ('Course then I wouldn't have that whole "know nothing" excuse to fall back on.)

Postscript: At lunch afterwards, almost immediately after we sat down, Don asked me how much I weigh. I told him, and he replied, "Yeah, you're pretty robust for a girl." I'm totally taking that as a compliment.

California Dreaming

My high school Geography teacher Mr. McDonald instilled the fear of God in me about the San Andreas Fault and told us all that California is non-ecumene* and that you couldn't pay him enough to live there.

Earthquake-schmearthquake: California kicks ass.

I'm here in the Bay Area this week, working remotely. The weekend included another feeble attempt at surfing (I got a bit further than when I tried last Spring, but still didn't get up on the board) and hanging out with this cool dude:

With 32+ years of experience at being a very enthusiastic person, I'm learning to that liking a lot of stuff is a pretty good problem to have. It's still a problem, though. Imagine, for example, if you went to Small Town, Iowa to visit someone. (Play along with me. Maybe it's your mom's cousin or something.) As you drive by the local diner, you glance in the window and see the locals sitting at the counter, and you immediately wonder what it would be like if that was *your* local diner, and they knew that on Sundays you liked your eggs over-easy and your bacon crisp and your coffee with milk instead of cream, and the waitress called you "Hon" (which, to me, is the sign of an excellent diner waitress). Anyway, that's kind of what happens to me whenever I go somewhere. I have imagined myself living everywhere from Paris, France to Paris, Ontario, usually much to the dismay of anyone to whom I've mentioned these grand fantasies. (On the large majority I don't actually follow through, but there were those 2 little cross-country moves.)

All of my wanderlust is particularly bubbly here in California, for a whole host of reasons, and also because even though I only lived here for 18 months back in 1998-2000, my friends here are like family.

Plus, the weather is really good. In January, 10°C is "cold." Everything is relative.

*Good word, eh? Despite his earthquake-alarmism, Mr. McDonald was a good teacher.