Pean’s Adventures in the Big City

My mind has been occupied with studying, and trying to conceive of a way to make it through the winter without losing my mind.  So, in lieu of running (b/c it seems that this week, it was next to impossible on some days due to snow), I have taken to baking—martha stewart, 1950s housewife style. 

Incidentally, about half-way through this process it dawned on me: “The best kind of man a girl can have, is the one she bakes, and then dresses in buttercream icing.”  If they reach beast status, you can eat them. Done. 

busy busy…back in the park today for a long run barring any slippage. 

Peace,

pean

Happiest Birthday wishes to Sammy Makamoto as he turns the big 3-0 (?).  We love you, Prada shoes and all….

The pope rockin

That’s right…the big guy prefers Prada too….

<3 Pean

If I could have written and directed a music video myself, this is EXACTLY what it would be like:

Chris Dane Owens: \”Shine On Me\”

Be sure to watch it all the way through, because just when you think it can’t get any better—IT DOES.  If you haven’t changed your life, this video will….trust me.

On another note: I have an important announcement regarding marathon running: Boston will be my last marathon until further notice.  I will return to race (and he means race) the NYC marathon in 2010 after I “sharpen my skill set.”  I will say no more on this issue, b/c BT told me that reading a post about running is about as entertaining as the old WD—in other words, she’d rather wear a terrycloth jumpsuit to a Van Halen concert (what?).

peace,

pean

This will be one of my few “running” related entries, but I wanted to bring this issue back from the dead for a petite minute.  The mother of a good friend of mine (the lovely miss J) said this to me right before the marathon, and at the time I didn’t believe her.  I thought, “Nooo that’s not true”, as I threw my head back laughing.  Yes, runners will exert themselves to the point of exhaustion, and yes ”apparently we just run, without stopping for an extended period of time”, but how could they all  be les miserable??  I found this theory intriguing, and I was determined to prove her wrong.  Last night, I finally remembered to do so.  Here’s the deal: usually when I run, I like to draft off of people in front of me and try to pass them—I am fairly successful at it, with the exception of the usual suspects who always pass me, then call me later to tell me about it—the point is, I like to keep distracted.  I didn’t run far, but 2 miles into my run the idea popped into my head to count how many frowns/grimaces I saw on runners opposing the direction I was running in.  I used a scale of 1-5 though, since there are varying degrees of “unhappiness”, so here was the breakdown:

1-Content (slight smile, focused)

2-relaxed, but serious brow

3-Clenching teeth, eyebrows fixed to misery mode

4-Clenched teeth, misery mode, crazy eyes (you know, CRAZY)

5-Verge of tears, heavy panting—like someone fired a round of bullets into their body

***Note:I should add that if there was visible sweat/blood and/or any clue indicating an injury I immediately rounded them one level higher—no one is happy running injured, I don’t care who they are.  I also did not grade people on the cat hill or harlem hill at this time, b/c no one’s dressed in their “sunday best” there either.

I counted more individuals who were a level 4 than anything else.  Everyone looked miserable!  Was it the weather?  Were they going through emotional turmoil?  Do they not do their lifting and conditioning to supplement their training? How far had they run?  How far would they run?  Were they running hard?  What do I look like when I’m running hard? It was at this point that I realized J’s mom was right!  No one looks happy when they’re running, and the truth is they’re probably in pain!  In recent weeks, I have learned that to run well, I have to feel like I’m knocking on death’s door during the workout, and then my body returns to its regularly scheduled programming afterward.  I am certain this is what all those other runners are experiencing…that as soon as the hard running starts, you want it to end.  I am trying to remain upbeat and motivated during the winter months, but some nights it just sucks out there!! Especially when the wind chill factors in, because by the time I am actually warm enough to run (like 6 miles in, mind you), the damn workout is nearly over!!  I refuse to wear spandex as well, and I’m sure that’s part of my problem; however, I am stubborn and therefore little can be done to rectify that “situation.”  I will simply chalk up my running 45 miles a week half-naked to good preparation for boston training.  A quick note: the training plan that has been so graciously put together for me is f’ing insane, and no one will see me for approximately 3 months.  If you want to see me, send up a smoke signal and wait 3-5 days for a response, or just send liquor, b/c right after that I start applying to medical school—the fun never ends!!!!!!  Anyway….the point of my rambling is that J’s mom was right about everything, except one thing: being constipated. 

Now, anyone who runs knows it’s quite the contrary, and I assure you, there are no grimaces where that is concerned.  It’s a favorite past time of this community, and we go whenever nature calls—most likely in a secluded area like the one I’ve depicted below from the park.  I don’t know about you people, but I’m always stoked (so is KJB, my fearless leader in the dept.) and thinking, “Alright, let’s go hit some trees.”  Okay, I’m DONE! I’M OUT!!

Peace,

Steph

While I’m not going to sit here and talk about “true love” (a concept I find to be neither realistic, nor enticing) for hours on end like a giddy school girl, I did hear someone utter this phrase on the subway the other day to one of her girlfriends.  They were discussing a recent break-up, or overanalyzing a man’s behavior (there’s just no point, b/c there is no logic to a man’s behavior, other than plain selfishness 65% of the time), you know, “Why didn’t he call?” followed by a plethora of excuses fabricated by her best friend in order to justify the boy’s bad behavior.  I have never believed in such a concept, I mean sure it’s nice to think about, but it’s also a dangerous way to think about relationships.  Does that mean if you never date anyone you consider to be your “true love”, you are destined to lead a life of solitude?  Scary!  Another thought that crossed my mind was, “Why do women waste so many thoughts over trying to figure out what a dude is thinking?”  I admit, I too, have been guilty of such things; however, it’s especially painful to witness when the girl is clearly beautiful and leads a very successful life.  I know what he’s thinking, “He’s thinking about Monday night football with his friends, and should ladies happen to be present, then so be it.”  Done!  I wanted to slap the friend—yes, she thinks she’s doing good by her friend—providing the girl with many potential excuses, but all she is doing is prolonging the inevitable, and making her friend crazier than she already was!!  It’s all a vicious cycle, don’t you see?  My advice to anyone who’s been there for a friend, who’s told them, “NO it’s not you…it was the WD–that’s why his performance was sub-par,” who has been that shoulder to cry on: SHUT UP. JUST SHUT UP, GIVE THEM A HUG. TELL THEM TO GO FOR A RUN (EVEN IF THEY HATE THE IDEA). TELL THEM TO LOOK IN THE MIRROR SO THEY CAN SEE…SEE THAT THERE’S NOTHING TO CRY OVER. TELL THEM TO HAVE A DRINK, BUT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T TELL THEM WHAT THEY WANT TO HEAR.

Naturally, this realization did not come to me on the subway, or I would have said something.  Actually, I would have asked for the boy’s address, and then popped up at his house, just so I could punch him in the face for taking away 10 minutes of my life that I will never get back.  No, I went home and fell asleep (contemplating whether or not to run, b/c it seems as if that’s all I ever do anymore).  I slept for probably an hour, then I woke up and said, “Stephanie what are you doing with your life, don’t be lazy.” I went running.  So, on my run I ran into my friend, and it was in our conversation that I had all of these thoughts flying through my head.  The problem is, when you witness an interaction like the one I did on the subway, it has a fantastic way of making you reflect on your own behavior.  In this case, it also allowed my friend to reflect on his behavior, and we did anything but pat each other on the back.  He told me what I have been guilty of, and I enlightened him on what I observed in his behavior in our 3 years (we’ll make it to our golden!) of friendship.  At some point though, we were coming out of Central Park towards Fifth Avenue—the streets were illuminated for the holidays, and full of people—I thought to myself, “Why the hell would you ever need anything when you have this? Why would you ever waste one day caring about someone who was too blind to see who you are, and what you have to give?”  I found my true love, a very long time ago, it doesn’t come in a box and it can’t give me a hug, but no matter what happens to me—bad or good—at least I’m in NY, at least I have wonderful friends, at least I have two legs to run in my favorite place, at least I am here….at the very least.

See? Some f-ed up stuff goes through your head when you go running in the park at night with someone who runs so fast, that you feel like death would be a better option than to stay with them. (love youuu)