Galapagos Islands: You Won't Believe It Until You Go!

                Wayne and I debated a lot about what to do on our trip – boat trip, which would be very expensive, require lots of research, or staying on an island in one of the towns. My friend Sherry had taken a tour that kept them in hotels at night, and we thought staying in hotels sounded good. Plus, not running for that long would be brutal (though my podiatrist would probably recommend it!) and I didn’t relish the idea of being on a boat that long. I found it easy to find a nice place (Hotel Galapagos Inn FKA Casa de Judy, on Isla Santa Cruz, right close to Puerto Ayoro), which was really beautiful, had a nice pool, and gorgeous views. The hotel was a bit outside of the edge of town, situated over the National Park, so it was gorgeous – oh, and in front of that was an amazing oceanfront view. Yes, please!

                After a long journey, Judy talked our ear off – or mine, since she primarily spoke Spanish. Good practice for me. We headed to town and got lunch at one of the many eateries, and I had my first Lorca de Papas, an amazing potato-cheese-avocado soup. I need to look up recipes when I go home to make this! And of course, lots of jugo de maracuya. I was in heaven.

                We headed over to the Charles Darwin Research station, where we saw giant iguanas, baby turtles, giant turtles, crabs, chilled at a little beach. This became my daily run spot, yay.

                After, we went back to town, exploring a bit more, stopped in some shops to find something adorable for my niece and nephew, we enjoyed a little bug vehicle that reminded us of Burning Man art cars. We went back to our hotel and planned the tours for the rest of our trips.

                We were happy to feel more energy post-Quito, but the next few days would exhaust us.

                The next day, we got up early and I ran. Then we hired a taxi driver (who ripped us off, but that’s another story) and we went to The Lava Tunnels. Basically, what happens is they drop you off at this random woman’s house, you pay $3, and you get a flashlight to borrow and she turns on the power to lights in the tunnel (Many of which don’t work, making the experience even eerier), and you head into a tunnel. It’s a series of underground caves, almost a mile (1.22 k actually) and it would have been very scary to go through alone. We were both a bit frightened, but awed by the magic. Really cool. It was carved out by lava many years ago, and was the second-longest in South America. This was one of the highlights of our trip, as weird as it sounds.

                Then we headed over to a tortoise reserve. They were huge, beautiful creatures, and not that friendly but not that angry. Amazing. At one point, there were tons chilling in a small muddy pond.

                We went to el gemelos, these craters, which weren’t as impressive as they sounded, but still pretty. Huge sinkholes filled with plants, basically.

                We went back to town and tried to find a trip to Seymour. We eventually did, peeling off almost every bill in our pockets to do so. (It was Christmastime, so trips were even more – we paid $140 to go to Las Plasas, and $155 to go to Seymour.) Then we walked to Tortugua Beach – on the edge of town, you have a 2.5 km walk on a stoned-lined path. Wayne’s feet and back were killing him, but it was wonderful once we were there. A gorgeous beach, even with a nice surf break, and then you walked down the end to the bathing part. There were iguanas swimming, birds, gorgeous. Then on the other side was a bay of some sorts, super calm water, kayaks to rent, mangroves to sit in the shade under. Really lovely.

                The next day, we were picked up for a trip to Seymour.  Amazing. We arrived on an island with tons of sea lions, blue-footed boobies, red-breasted frigates, pelicans…really amazing, especially as how the animals would just come up to you without any fear, say hello. I took loads of photos, and then my camera broke and I was in tears. Wayne fixed it, of course, but I missed a few photos of blue footed boobies and iguanas. We headed back into the boat and we boated someplace for snorkeling, but our awful guide kept saying, “Don’t come if you are not a good swimmer.” (The guides are not always the best here, sigh.)  After snorkeling was another blah blah Ecuadorian lunch, and then we went to an island just covered, just covered with sea lions. I was blown away. I sat down next to them, and they seemed pretty chill and barely took notice, except when a baby sea lion came up to us, confused as to whether or not we were there mother, and they’d bark at us. We took tons of photos. There was also a skeleton of a whale too, but this was mainly a sea lion island. Wonderful.

                That night, I was annoyed at Wayne for taking forever to get ready – we had drinks plans with a brother-in-law of a friend. As soon as we left to eat, I started feeling awful, really queasy. We went on to dinner anyway and I made my best attempt. I said to Wayne, “I feel awful – like I’m going to throw up.” He told me he’d pay and I waited outside

                The walk back to our hotel was hell. I had to stop every few meters to sit and I hoped I could make it home. I gave Wayne instructions on logging onto my computer and Facebook to message Jose, and tell him we couldn’t make it. Around the block from our hotel, I threw myself into gravel by a children’s playground and vomited. I got up, walked a few feet (You know, closer to the children.) and threw myself down again to vomit. When I got back I noticed gravel marks in my knees and shins.

                In the hotel, I cleaned myself up and brushed my teeth and passed out in bed. Wayne wrote Jose, who ironically was sick the next day. I did feel okay the next morning.

                When I woke up, I went for a super slow run, and Wayne’s stomach was a mess (again….). We ate, and then got on a boat headed to Las Plasas. The bus was full of 12 people from one large family – nice, super-rich, but still, a family with their own dynamics. There was also an older couple. We mainly stayed to ourselves.

                We headed first to see sea lions, lots of amazing birds, iguanas, and learned a lot about why certain animals were behaving the way they were.

                After dinner, we went to bed and slept a lovely amount. In the morning, we had our last day, aka Christmas.

                I celebrated the holiday with a long run, and then woke Wayne up. We had breakfast, and then headed out to Garrapatos, a far beach. We ended up getting sunburnt (even sun blisters, in my case, sigh….). We showered, got dinner, and met up with Jose. We talked about the Galapagos Islands, Burning Man, Barcelona, Ecuador, that sort of thing….really fun.

                And then…we were done. A night of sleep, get up early, and GO for a long day of trip from Galapagos to Guayquil then 

The Journey to Galapagos

                Getting to Galapagos is not easy. There are very few direct flights there, and most either have connections or stopovers in Guayaquil. A lot of the flights are booked up early by travel agencies for trips (A lot of times, when you buy tickets to a boat trip from the U.S., it will include a flight from Quito.), but when they don’t sell the seats, there will be last-minute cheap tickets. This is something to look out for, especially if you have time and are not traveling during high season.

                We left our hotel at 5a.m. in a cab to the Quito airport, which is almost an hour from Quito itself. Then we waited in a long line to pay a $10 fee to go to the Galapagos. Then they scan your suitcases and give you something to sign saying that you are not bringing any seeds or food into the islands. (This meant Wayne and I ate a container of Christmas cookies V had baked for us, and almost an entire big bag of cinnamon sugar sunflower seeds. Maybe a bad idea, hahahah.) Then your bag is marked, and then you wait to check into the plane. After, you do the usual waiting around the gate, etc., but the whole process took us way longer than I expected.

                We flew to Guyaquil, and were no allowed to leave the plane. Wayne and I ate cookies instead. Then just before we got to Isla Baltra (the island we were flying to in Galapagos), they sprayed the entire plane, including lifting all of the overhead bins to individually spray each bag, with insecticide.

                When we arrived in the Galapagos, we were immediately struck by the humidity. Then we had to wait for every single bag to be unloaded. Then a cop did this whole routine with having his dog sniff and run over each and every bag. Once the dog didn’t find anything (and Wayne thinks it was a farce, as the dog was not one normally trained for sniffing), we collected our bags. Then we paid a fee of $100 per person to enter the park, and handed in another form. Then they scanned out bags again and we handed in another form.

                Then we hopped on the bus that everyone takes to the ferry. Isla Baltra has pretty much nothing other than the airport. So everyone goes on this bus. Then we got on the ferry (only 5 minutes, $1), and then you can either get a cab to the town ($18) but we thought we’d save money and take the bus ($2 a person). You have to wait for the bus to fill up, which means we had a bit of a wait. Then after the bus, we hopped into a cab for $1 (totally walkable, but we had our bags and weren’t exactly sure where it was) and finally got to our destination.

                Long and a total PIA, but totally worth it!

Quito, Ecuador: Altitude, Sleep, Grey Skies, and Sunburns

               So let me start out by saying that Wayne’s choice for a Christmas trip was going to Hawaii (where he had been before) to go kitesurfing. For those of you who haven’t watched someone kitesurfing, chances are, if you’re on the beach, you’re getting pummeled with sand. I somehow convinced Wayne to choose Ecuador instead, pointing out that the Galapagos Islands are totally awesome. So he agreed and we went.

                We left with a bunch of insanity. Our car service driver was super slow, but we still arrived with almost two hours. The Tame line was super long, but we waited, and when we got to the front, the agent told Wayne to go to line one because there was a problem with his ticket. Then she told me the same thing. We waited in line one, and then the agent said there was no problem with our ticket, and told our original agent she needed to learn how to read a ticket. Argh. Then we waited again to check out bags. We still felt okay on time, until we waited in the TSA line for nearly an hour. We went through security, peed, grabbed Wayne a coffee, and boarded. Then we discovered that the “seats next to each other” were actually one in front of the other. ARGH. I asked the flight attendant to help, and he was  not eager to help, and told me that the flight was full, sorry. I was pissed. But then when some guy got on board and sat down next to Wayne, the flight attendant asked him to switch, and Wayne and I got to sit next to each other. Yay!

                The flight was delayed and felt very long. We slept most of it, ate snacks, and went through customs, immigrations, grabbed our bags super easily. I smoothly negotiated with our cabbie to pay the set rate, and after lots of traffic and a long taxi ride (over an hour), we arrived at the Traveller’s Inn. We wanted to go out on a walk and get dinner, but somehow passed out for three or four hours, fully clothed, lights on. We woke up disoriented, and decided to head out to the Indian place we had seen on the corner. It was pretty swanky, and the food was good. I had the best mango lassi of my life. And of course, my beloved maracuya juice. Yum.

                We went back to the hotel, talked a little, and then passed out again – not waking up until 8 a.m. the next day. Wow. We got up, showered, and ate breakfast. It was weird to not be running, but my doctor said to rest, so I figured I’d not run until I got to the Galapagos.

                We took a cab ($12-15 each way) to Mitad del Mundo, where the equator is marked. I figured we’d take a bus, but a cab was much, much faster (though much more expensive). We took the requisite photos on the equator line, but as it was early, it was still pretty quiet, which mean peaceful photos. Then we hopped in our cab to Centro Historico, where we took photos of churches, walked around. I felt like utter crap and didn’t care about anything except wanting to go to bed. We stumbled into a random punk show, where the bands played cover songs of non-punk bands, but in a punk style, with English lyrics (rare), Spanish lyrics (quite common), or a combination of Spanish and English (also common). It was really fun, and we left after a bit to walk in the rain.

                My feet were killing me and Wayne took several scenic routes, causing me to get annoyed at him. It suddenly began downpouring, so we ducked into a Greek café, got some snacks and coffee and a hideous tea, and when the rain abated and our snacks were done, we headed out into the streets.

                We arrived at the intersection of our guesthouse and begin walking back and forth; we couldn’t find it. I grew frustrated at Wayne for not writing down the address, and he grew frustrated at me for insisting I got the address wrong. We randomly asked at several hotels, and finally, I pleaded with one of them to help me find the info. They called information, and got me the address. Turns out, we were looking for Pinta not Pinto. We were a few blocks away. We walked there, I showered off the grime, and passed out in bed for several hours. Wonderful. I hate you, stupid altitude. My asthma has also been crap lately. Ugh.

                When we woke up, I pulled back on my dampish clothes and we hopped into a cab  ($2) near all the restaurants in Mariscal Sucre. We went to El Maple, a vegetarian restaurant, and then we walked around the square and looked at the hopping nightlife. Pretty impressive.

                We wanted to go but, but, ehhhh, tired. So we headed back, mainly because we were cold and tired, got under the blankets, and snuggled and read.

                This trip has felt pretty lazy so far, but I suppose that’s what the two of us need right now. No stress.

                We got up our last morning in Quito at 415 to catch our 8 a.m. flight to Galapagos. Wheeeee!

Frozen Bonsai Half

Even though the race had frozen in its name, I still figured it might be fun to run. Hey, why not? A half in Central Park, easy peasy close, and I could run it super slow.

The night before I was up late at a friend's play in the Bronx, so I was on little sleep. The train got me there too quick, so I froze while waiting. I began pacing, which was better than standing still. I piled on layers. I ran into Karen, who told me she was still feeling ill effects of her late night, and ran into Stephanie, who ended up PRing.

I started out sub 8s for quite a while. I felt okay, was thinking of all I had to do. Then around mile 8, my feet started hurting. It was out of control painful, and I was involuntarily audibly moaning. Then Wayne biked up and I whined to him while he whined to me. He was supposed to bike with a bunch of people for six hours but everyone bailed and now his back was hurting so he headed home with 20 miles instead of 50 or 60 or more.

I finished, and limped to the train. My feet were killing me.

The medal was nice, the course was fun, the after spread great. Go NYC Runs, with another awesome race.

Staten Island Greenbelt 50k: Mud, Trails, Yes, in the City! (2014 Race Report)

I had fun last year at the Staten Island Greenbelt 50k, even if the course was muddy. I thought it would be a nice last ultra of the year, and decided to run it on the easy side. A bunch of friends were signing up, so why not?

The day before, my grandmother fell and hit her head. She ended up getting stitches, though she’s ultimately okay. My mother and I cleaned up all the blood (You bleed a lot from head wounds.), I made my grandma lunch, and hung out with her. I was so shaken up that I couldn’t eat for a while, despite being hungry. I knew this was probably a bad sign for tomorrow’s race, but nothing I could do.

I cried when I got back to Brooklyn, and wondered how  could possibly run the next day.

When we met JT at 645, it was lightly raining. Great. Karen, Cole, and I were running the 50k; JT was supposed to run the 25k but ended up DNSing because he felt sick. But he still drove us because he’s awesome like that. “I made a commitment,” he said.

I planned on running pretty easy, and spent much of the baby loop running with a Staten Island local, talking about the bakery business he used to own. It was somewhere in the 40s (maybe even 50s?) and raining lightly. Karen caught up to me and we began running together, chatting.

The course is easy but not so easy it’s boring. There are twists and turns and single track trail, but nothing technical. It was muddy and the mud got worse as the day went on. There were some hills.

There were four aid stations – the start/finish one, one I never seemed to stop at, one that only had water, and one with Cheez-Its. Obviously the last was my favourite.

As Karen and I neared the end of our second loop, it began raining hard. Luckily as we headed into the start/finish, it mostly abated, so we headed out like two idiots. It began pouring at many points, and was only a light rain at the best points. The trail grew slippery, we got tired and hungry, and thoughts of  Cheez-its flooded our mind. I tried to not think about my grandma, which often resulted in Karen hearing random stories about various races. Wooohooo.

We finished, and grabbed our finishers’ hoodies and ran inside. I baby wiped bathed in the bathroom and put on warm clothes before I felt human again.

And then I went home and ate a bunch of food. Life is good.

Take Me to Church

I was in Brooklyn Banya with Menachem and friends. We were going back and forth between the wet and dry saunas, between the steam room, and the jacuzzi. We were resting in between sweat sessions, Menachem and everyone was sitting at table, dipping chunks of bread in hummus, in avocado dip. I was in the jacuzzi alone.

You could relax and stare into space, which I did. But there was also a television showing MTV. ("MTV still exists?" someone asked. Clearly we all watch our videos on YouTube.) I don't find television particularly relaxing, but I found myself drawn to this video. They were playing a song that I had heard before and liked, "Take Me to Church." I never knew much about the song or Hozier or anything. But the video drew me in. It horrified me and I couldn't stop watching.



I researched it. They made the video when all the homophobic laws were being passed in Russia. It gave me chills and I was almost crying. Here I was, in a Russian banya, unable to stop staring at the homophobia I was witnessing. In some ways, I grew up in a bubble being from New York - I have never seen things like this. My dad likes to say, "People are different outside New York." I know this kind of horrifying violence can happen in New York, but Russia. Matthew Shepard. So many other things.

I'm glad through my job I can do things like educate people about LGBT issues and sexism and diversity, and I think that's so valuable. But the fact that bullshit like this exists today around the world, where there are countries where same sex acts are punishable by death, where hate crimes go unpunished even in our own country - it's enough to make me cry.

At the banya, I watched the video. A lump in my throat. I got out of the jacuzzi, where I had been sitting alone, and sat back down with my friends. I was doing nothing, and that's not a good thing. We always need to speak up. I spoke up to the homophobic assholes in my high school who threatened me senior year after learning my prom date (aka my best friend) was gay. I've spoken up to many people over the years who think using the term "gay" as a substitute for the word "stupid" is okay. I've challenged people in other countries, got into arguments, and cursing fights.

We all need to speak up about these things. It's never okay, and we need to keep fighting until people can be who they are without others thinking it's okay to punish them for what they don't want them to be.

To dance to, today

When the world is a mess of confusion of love and life and everything, put on a song you love and sing it and dance to it.

Today, that song is this....

Hey, this is who I am, Runners' World!

After I finished the NYC Marathon in 2013, this photo was snapped. This is my story.

The week prior, I ran 24 Hours the Hard Way, which was the 24 Hours National Championships USATF. I was desperately trying to break 120 miles so I could get a shot at qualifying for the National Team that would go to World Championships. My coach gave me advice, but severe blisters ended up costing me about 45-60 minutes. Medical helped out, but I needed treatment a few times. The blisters were pretty brutal.

I needed 120 to qualify. i ran 115.6 miles. 

I was pretty devastated, but I ended up taking 2nd place for USATF women. I won a check for $750, a neat medal. I stumbled onto the plane after a shower and flew home to New York, feeling pretty destroyed.

Less than a week later, I ran the New York City Marathon.

I tried to run hard, but my legs reminded me, HELLO, you just ran 115.6 miles last week. I stopped to hug friends. I smiled. I absorbed the energy from the streets.

Coming into the finish, something hit me. Cherie, you ran 115.6 miles last week. You were second USATF woman, and who else here can do that, and do what you're doing now? 3:45 - not bad, especially after that effort. You ran your heart off last week, and again this week. 

And I burst into tears that last half mile...that is my story.

RW has my image on an inspirational quote (see above). I am more than just a quote. I am a running body of energy, tears, sweat, passion, and love.

Just after crossing the finish line

The original plan: I would run Croatan 24 Hour, then, a week later, Wayne and I would do Brooklyn Marathon together. Unfortunately, I had the flu, followed by a week of asthma troubles, prednisone, and reduced running for the past two weeks - and I ended up DNSing at Croatan. Also, Wayne's injury has kept him from running the entire year, and he decided not to run Brooklyn. Sad.

Oh well. I have to run Brooklyn anyway. It's put on by NYC Runs, which does an awesome job with its races. Plus, Steve is much cooler than Mary Wittenberg, and you don't feel like something is scraping the contents of your wallet and giving you hideous t-shirts.

The course is 2 bottom loops of the park, followed by 6 full loops. There are some rolling hills, nothing too terrible but at mile 22, you hate the whole world and it sucks.

The park was gorgeous - lots of nice autumnal leaves. The temperature was unfortunately coldish (high 30s at the start to high 40s at the finish) but it wasn't raining, so that was good. (Tomorrow: 100% chance of rain and 60. I'd rather have cold and dry!)

I knew I wasn't having a PR race, so I wore some extremely ridiculous pants (see photos!), my rainbow tutu, my BRC50k shirt, and some awesome new Runningskirts.com arm warmers (that really kept me pretty warm). Oh, and pink and black glove-mittens. I carried my inhaler the entire time, and only used it six times.

The race had a pretty chill start, and I ended up meeting some nice people (Lisa from CA and Cortney newly relocated to the West Village) and running sub 8s with them for the first six plus miles. I began to struggle on the hill with my asthma and slowed down a bit.

Menachem listened to me complain, and was an awesome pacer

Wayne showed up on the bike next to me! He tossed me Smarties, which I think are a terrible thing to eat. It got tougher as the race went on, for I lost manual dexterity, and the wrappers are a nightmare. (When my coworker Liz joined me, she marveled, "I've never seen anyone eat Smarties while running." Ha, me either. I do not recommend!)

Wayne and I ran chatting and then I ran into Liz! I was so excited and we ran together for maybe 7 miles. It was really nice to catch up with her outside of work, and the pace was still sub-8. Nice.

Beth joined us for a loop, and after I introduced them to each other, Beth said, "So you're an Elizabeth too." Oh, duh, they're both Elizabeths. Ha. We ran together, Beth talking about bars and beers, and the miles slowed down a bit, but not terribly.

Beth dropped off. Menachem hopped on the pain train. We ran up the hill, and then Liz left the park to head to yoga. Bye, Liz. Menachem watched me completely deteriorate, and he was a pretty great pacer. I was mumbling and blubbering and fighting with Smarties wrappers and I met my friend's super-cute bundled up baby, and it was fun, even if I was suffering.

The last lap I perked up. "You seem better," Menachem observed. Yes, because one lap left!!! I still hated the world, and I was freaking out, thinking I'd go over four hours. I really had wanted to, you know, PR or something, but after the past two weeks, asthma and the flu and today sucking with foot pain and asthma and queasiness, I wanted to at least break four hours.

A bit after I finished, no clue what I was doing.

And I did. 3:55:07. I finished and was delighted to be done. NYC Runs loves their runners, so I chowed down on a bagel and cream cheese (real bagels, not day old ones like NYRR provides to their runners), raspberries, grapes, hot cocoa. There were apples and donuts too. My hands were too cold so I couldn't really eat the raspberries and grapes, but tasty addition.

And after? Menachem mentioned vegan food at his house, but I was so cold. I headed home for a long hot shower and then ate a ton of food. The rest of the day was taking care of stuff around the house, a lot of it while sitting in my chair. Yay!

DNS: A Very Sad Race Report for 2014 Croatan 24 Hour

Note: crucial to understanding this piece is that I have cough-variant asthma.

Friday, eight days prior to the race, I woke up with a cold. Miserable. Tea and lots of fluids, and I ended up feeling better. Still felt a little slow on Saturday and Sunday, and then BAM woke up on Monday feeling wretched. I got dressed in running clothes, and as I approached the door, realized I couldn't run. There was no way. I went back to bed in my running clothes, napping and reading until time to work. Then I worked for a few hours, and said I was going to take a half a sick day. I ended up napping, which is something I almost never do. I woke up and read some more, and then we ordered delivery because cooking was not happening. The rest of the night I read and took a bath while Wayne sawed and worked on electricity stuff.

The next day I decided to run to the polls to vote. Ha. 2 minutes later, I felt like utter crap and voted. I slogged it home, and showered and worked for two hours, then I had to stop to rest. I got up, worked and finished a request due that day, and then when I was done, I had nothing left. I sent my coworkers a brief message like, "Need to sleep now, so sick," and passed out for three hours. I woke up and it was dark and Wayne was coming in. Ooops.

Wednesday I made it through the workday by working at home, with some breaks. Wednesday night found me in a horrible asthma attack, and I passed out, scared after coughing like crazy. Thursday I felt less flu-like but not 100%, but I couldn't stop coughing. How on earth would I run a 24 hour this weekend? I kept coughing and as I headed to my early flight on Friday, Wayne said, "I don't think you should fly like that."

I coughed on the plane. I coughed in the rental car shuttle. I coughed in the drive to my sister's, and I coughed while I played with her kids. I warned her I might not finish  my race, but my plan was to do at least 50k, if not 50 miles, if I couldn't run through the night. As I drove to the hotel by the race start, I was coughing a ton. I could not get through a phone call - hell, I couldn't get through a sentence, without coughing. I had tears streaming down my face. I was scared.

I checked into the hotel, and it was more dismal than I remembered. (Mental note: next time I do Croatan 24, do NOT stay in the Best Western.) There was a beetle on my ceiling. I felt awful, but I quickly sorted my clothes and then showered. I couldn't stop coughing.

I went to bed. I woke up shortly after - maybe 10-20 minutes later, coughing. Coughing nonstop. Tears streamed down my face. I sat up, which sometimes help, but the coughing wouldn't stop. For hours, I couldn't stop coughing. I'd pass out, and wake up, coughing. It was hell. It was scary: I was in a dumpy hotel room with stains on the carpet and beetles on the ceiling, and I was coughing and couldn't catch my breath, and my inhaler wasn't working, and I was alone. When you have asthma, you often think about death when breathing seems impossible, and it's so scary.

I finally fell asleep after 3 a.m., and woke up at 5 a.m. There was no way I was doing the race. I had no appetite to eat, and my throat was too sore anyway from coughing all night. I packed up my car and headed to the race start. I greeted the RD, Brandon, who is one of the nicest people in the ultrarunning world. I immediately gave him the sad news, and he felt bad for me. By not doing Croatan, I wasn't just skipping a race I had prioritized over other races (not doing NYC Marathon, not doing Icarus 24 hour, not doing other races), I was missing out an awesome race. Brandon always has tons of amazing food (cake! lots of vegetarian options! veggie broth! grits! fruit punch! so many other things) and him and his awesome friend wife, Heather, do such a great job. I was sad I couldn't hang out with him.

He said if I felt better to come hang out with him, but that didn't end up happening. I got in the rental car, and sadly drove away. I imagined everyone else throughout the day the next 24 + hours, thinking how they were having fun, struggling in the night, greeting the morning...and wishing I was there.

Me? I headed to Urgent Care, where the doctor didn't fully seem to grasp the concept of cough variant asthma (I usually cough painfully instead of wheeze.), but she ended up at least giving me prednisone, which take at least 2 days for me to fully feel the impact. The next day, my cough is still persisting, but I slept much better through the night, only awakening a half dozen or so times to cough.

Instead of running, I spent my time resting at my awesome sister's, baking and eating with her, and playing with my super sweet niece and nephew. And coughing. I'm still good at that.

Let's hope I'm ready for Brooklyn Marathon next weekend...

Too many 100s, 24s. I'll focus on 50s next year.

Ultrarunning is great. 100s and 24s are especially great - you all know you're on a journey, an adventure, and people really bond in amazing ways, from the fastest to the slowest people. It's such a wonderful awesome journey.

Except when it's not.

exhausted in my first 24 hour race (hinson lake 2012)

I love the laughter, the jokes, the cupcakes, the fun.

I hate the deprivation of tea for a week. (I'm a HUGE tea drinker, so this is actually quite a big deal.) I hate the sleeping early every night for a week, then running without sleep and feeling exhausted all night, and then barely able to sleep after because I'm in so much pain, and then being wrecked the rest of the week. I'm sick of missing super fun parties, events, relaxing time because I'm always racing.

My mom said, "You are always destroyed after 100 milers; why do you keep doing them?" (She also said, "You are always so miserable after marathons; why do you keep doing them?"

So next year, I'm dialing it down.

The plan is to focus on 50 milers. Run fun races. Hang out with my friends more. Study Spanish. Write. Play with the kitties. Have fun parties, and go to fun parties. Kiss my love. Dance. Read. Live my life, don't stress out.

I'll do a select few longer races - Vermont 100 has a special place in my heart, and there's NOTHING like TGNY 100, and of course I'll do Hinson 24. But I already decided to do 50 miles at Umstead instead of 100. Instead of running through the middle of the night, finishing at an ungodly hour, showing up at my sister's exhausted and depleted, eating half her fridge, then spending time with her family messed up. Instead, I'll run 50 miles, go back to her house, shower, eat, hang out...and wake up in the morning in the mood for an easy run. Much more fun, right?

RIP Blake Norwood

I have tears in my eyes. The ultra community has a huge gaping loss today. The founding director of the Umstead 100 miler, Blake was there for me in my second 100 miler, the first time I broke 24 hours. He was taking photos, including the gem below, laughing, teasing, enouraging, being out there. He was such a present RD - I have been to races and had no clue who the RD was. He, on the other hand, talked with everyone. He will be missed. Oh, Blake.....

Running my 2nd 100 miler

No, women can't just expect to walk down the street. No, they can't. Sexual harassment is rampant. UGH.

Tuesday Morning Fun: I Hope I Never Have to Replicate This Video (For More Than One Reason)

Cape Cod Marathon: Views, Wind, and Split Lips (and I didn't throw up on myself or poop in my pants)

Post race: no one fainted or pooped in their pants or threw up. We all finished. In other words, the marathon was a resounding success.

I'm one of those people that are easily convinced to do things. Like run marathons, blow money on things they shouldn't, travel at the drop of a hat, get another cocktail, and bake something sweet and eat way too much of it. So when Jill said, "I'm running these three races. Want to run one with me?" and the Cape Cod Marathon fit, of course I said yes.

Jill was hosting a party the day before, so I prepared for the marathon by drinking mimosas and eating lots of delicious things. I slept a good deal, and we head over to the start in Falmouth, which was pretty low-key.

I was hungry at the start, and was looking for water to take a pre-race gel with. Someone told me it was at the front and then after I had looked around a bunch, someone else told me it was in the back. No time. Booo. I started, holding a gel, looking forward for the first water stop...which was in 2.5 miles. Water was every 2.5 miles or so. Boooo.

But the course was good. Hilly, yes. But oh-so-gorgeous. Really pretty. The ocean, the houses, the lighthouse. As Wayne said the day before, "Super f-ing quaint." Indeed.

After around 2 miles or so, someone came up behind me and began touching my face. I had no idea what was going on, and smacked the person away....and it was Stephen. Apparently I accidentally split his lip, and he said, "I deserve it. You don't startle a girl from Brooklyn during a marathon." It was a little strange to have someone touching my face from behind.

Stephen and I ran the rest of the race together - we talked about Burning Man, work, relationships, running, friends, the desert, lots of stuff. We suffered together, and enjoyed things.

My stomach was pretty wrecked. I didn't have pre-race bathroom success, so the last part of the race, I was in agony. As we came into the finish, I thought I was going to throw up all over myself, which would've made for a fantastic finishing photo - right?? But I didn't.

We finished, 3:55. Far from what I wanted. But considering I'm still dealing with that foot soreness issue (The bottoms of my feet are swollen, ow.) and my stomach was in agony, I guess it was okay. I need to do more speed workouts so I can kill it in a marathon, someday.

Post race, I shivered under Mylar and talked to runners. Then we drove back to Jill's house where we drank delicious alcohol and talked about everything until it was pretty evident I should have left hours earlier - which really wasn't a bad thing after all, as sometimes, fun takes priority.

Burning Man in Slow Motion

An amazing video. Can't wait to be home again.

Burning man 2014 from UBERcut on Vimeo.

Why can't I run down the street free of suggestion?

Today I was running home from the library. A worker in a construction hole had to watch me run towards him and then turned his body and head to look at me in the other direction. (Too bad he wasn't an owl.) I stopped and say in a really pleasant voice, "Why do you have to stop what you are doing and look at me? Really, it's not a compliment. I just want to run. I don't want to be stared at."

"Oh, you're doing a good thing."

A good thing? Why don't you go to the nearest gym and give a round of applause to everyone there.

"I'm sure you are not doing this to the men."

The whole interaction went over his head and I ran home, annoyed that I cannot just run down the street free of suggestion.

In the words of Fugazi,
Why can't i walk down a street free of suggestion?
Is my body the only trait in the eye's of men?
I've got some skin
You want to look in
There lays no reward in what you discover
You spent yourself watching me suffer
Suffer you words, suffer your eyes, suffer your hands
Suffer your interpretation of what it is to be a man
I've got some skin
You want to look in
She does nothing to deserve it
He only wants to observe it
We sit back like they taught us
We keep quiet like they taught us
He just wants to prove it
She does nothing to remove it
We don't want anyone to mind us
So we play the roles that they assigned us
She does nothing to conceal it
He touches her 'cause he wants to feel it
We blame her for being there
But we are all guilty

Decompressing...DECOMPRESSION SAN FRANCISCO 2014!

What is decompression? It's untangling yourself from Burning Man. It's saying goodbye but reminding yourself of what you learned at Burning Man - and not giving that up. It's carrying on your dreams. It's refusing to give up a hope for an idyllic lifestyle. 

Me, Kathy, and Carrie

It's art. It's conversation. It's community. It's dancing. It's sharing. It's love. I want it every day.

Dreams I share

Pink twins

Decom takes place down a couple of streets in San Francisco in the Dogpatch area. There's a park in the middle with a bunch of art (including LOVE and Kathy's piece abbreviated, YAY!), people having picnics, hanging out. Then there are different theme camps providing music, snacks, drinks, interaction, that sort of thing. There's dancing, conversation, catching up with friends fun.

One of my fave runners (sans Mohawk) showing off his BRC 50k medal!

Love, Love, Love....

This year I found myself spending most of my time catching up with friends - talking, sharing dreams, talking about our Burns, talking about what we learned, talking about what's next, sharing secrets that we're barely comfortable telling ourselves...it's Burning Man in a real city.

The teacups!

 I stayed until the bitter end, dancing, catching up with friends, having fun, talking, listening, sharing, chatting. When it ended, I decided I was too tired (and too sore from the Dick Collins 50 Miler the day before) so I wanted to skip on an after party. But I helped Kathy disassemble her piece and move it to the van. We chatted in the ride home about love and life and searching for happiness and art....

I'll be back next year - it works well with running the Dick Collins 50 Miler, and it's a nice way to tie things up - and see Kathy and Carrie and Rachelle and Jonathan and Utah and Valerie and so many others. I love you all and thank you for making me realizing there's more to life than the everyday!

Kathy's super awesome piece!

Can't stop playing this song on repeat....

The lyrics don't move me heaps, but I just feel like I'm transported to a dance floor under blazing sun or blinking lights, pulling my energy up and out and sharing with everyone around me.

Dick Collins 50 Miler 2014: Hills, Madelines, and Super Nice People

I was pretty excited to run the Dick Collins 50 Miler. I hadn't run a 50 miler in quite a while, since May at Bear Mountain (which is so tough and technical it's more like a 75 miler than a 50, ugh). I had PRd on this course, so was hopeful, even though it was 2 weeks since Hinson 24 hour, and 3 weeks since North Coast 24 hour. Ouch. I felt it.

I started out, pretty excited and happy to run! It was so pretty. I was chatting up a storm with everyone around me, pointing out all of the pretty views. The course is just jaw-dropping, and oh yeah, this is totally normal for California and everyone stares at you like you are an alien when you scream, "OMG LOOK AT THAT VIEW," and they say, "That looks like everywhere out here. What is wrong with you?" Ooops. New Yorker.

There's a different vibe to running out in California; there's history. I mean, GORDY was in the race. Swoon. Gordy, the father of ultrarunning. People said, "Western," and they meant Western States. OBVIOUSLY. Everyone was amazed I came out for this race, but I told them they shouldn't be. It's an awesome race, beautiful, AND very importantly, the day before San Francisco's Burning Man Decompression.

The course is not easy but beautiful. Lots of ups and downs. I kept saying, "I don't remember the course being this hard!" Up and down, more ups than downs, it seems, but as the course was pretty much out and back, you know it really wasn't. My hamstrings felt DESTROYED. I kept stopping to stretch. They hurt so terribly.

I saw an old ultrarunning friend Steve, who was working an aid station while he was injured. He didn't mind the sweaty hug. 

I'll admit; the food at the aid stations weren't quite as good when Ann Trason was RD. I basically ran a 50 mile all-you-can-eat buffet when she was RD. This was still quite good - grilled cheese at the turnaround, yay. They had these little packages of madelines, and given that I adore madelines and bake them, I ate approximtaely 400. Well, not that many, but I couldn't stop eating them and had to restrict myself. I knew I wasn't burning that many calories, ha.

I pulled it into the finish, way slower than I thought and hoped. Blisters, soreness, but I was okay. I was disappointed, but I guess my legs are just too slow right now. Sigh. Oh well. Next year, I'll be fresher!

And yes, next year, I'll be back.

We got pretty good schwag - tshirts, wine glasses, little reusable backpacks, fleeces. The post-race BBQ was nice, the volunteers friendly, and I'll def be back! See you next year on the trails!

Wait, why don't I live in California?

We slipped on our shoes and headed out the door....and Jerry and I were running here within a mile. There's a wolf in the background. Tough hills. Mountains, really. Dry. Why do I live in NYC? Because it's my energy and my city and my love and my family and my friends and my community but sometimes, I just want to roll out my door into awesome running. Maybe in another ten years I'll be ready to move out there, but until then, I know all the awesome spots to run in NYC.

Because Feminism Totally Rules

Because Dreams.

Lake of Dreams from roy two thousand on Vimeo.

This Doesn't Belong Here

This isn't now. No, it's not. It's a very different world. It's a world of the now, it's a world where we are cold, tired, talking, waiting, dancing, looking, and being.

I took a break from a busy day and decided to watch a video a friend had posted a while back. It was this.



It might not be the best video of Burning Man, but I really did love it. It made me think, Oh Cherie, that is so different. That is another place from where you are now.

How can I get to that place of just being in the now? I guess it's a journey we work on every day...on playa, it's so easy to just be that and there.

Hinson Lake 24 Hour Race Report (2014): It Was Awful, But an Awful Lot of Fun

                Hinson Lake 24 Hour Race has a special spot in my heart: it was my first 24 hour race (which I won the first time) and really turned me on to 24 hour races. No matter your finishing results, you get to run with and meet and chat with a ton of different awesome people at all sorts of paces. SO MUCH FUN!

                I knew going into this race that I wouldn’t run my best, as I had run 105 miles the week before at The North Coast 24 Hour National Championships, but hoped since I hadn’t PR’d, maybe my legs would be decent, good enough for 100+ miles? Not exactly. My legs were tired, and a stressful week of work, plus not enough sleep, plus lots of other things going on in my head did not leave me well-rested. I took a nap the day before and literally had to pull over 20 minutes from the start of Hinson to stretch because I was too exhausted to keep driving. Not a good sign, but remember, I don’t often pay attention to bad signs. Sigh.       

                Hinson Lake is an awesome 24 hour race – the fee is $24 and you get a tshirt, bumper sticker, pint glass (Good because Wayne and I are always breaking the ones we have!), and food, and 24 hours of running fun! The company is great – I love all of the runners and end up chatting with tons of great people. The course is a 1.56 mile loop around the lake – it’s pretty, there are some small rolling hills, but it’s mainly flat on dirt, sand, and boardwalk. There are tons of tents along the course and fun signs.

                At the start, I took off, chattering and laughing, enjoying and remembering the course. What a beautiful day. Soon enough, my pace slowed to 9:20s, which is definitely not terrible, but I usually go out a bit faster, with less effort. These 9:20s felt tough. Oh no.

                “My legs feel so tired,” I told Shannon. We ran together for a while, and she seemed strong at times, but she ended up not having a good day either and dropped. I was very sad to see her go. My legs were feeling tired before 2 hours.

                I ran with Jonathan Savage, who told me about his brown recluse spider bite and his recovery. He promised his wife to only run 50 miles, and only that much if he felt okay. He ended up quitting at 50 miles, feeling good. We talked about stress and how it impacts running. Talking always helps, and talking while running is the best. If only I could find a therapist who wanted to go on long runs with me…I would have no problems, I’m convinced.

                I reached the marathon in under 5 hours and the 50k in under 6 hours. Compare this to last weekend’s 24 hour (with the marathon in 4:10, 50k in 5:05). I knew it would be a bad day.

                I talked to Ray. He was weary, still. Running for 52 days straight from 6a.m. to midnight on concrete will do that to you.

                I hung out with Kelley, I hung out with Joe, I chilled with lots of amazing people. It was fun.

                I had my set up of various bags next to Brett. Brett’s dad was 100% awesome and his name was Wayne. He called me “babe” and was sweet, hilarious, helpful, and nice. Brett ended up taking a 3 hour nap.

                After it got dark, I just crashed. I curled up on the air mattress Wayne had set up with Wayne’s sleeping bag and passed out. I got up, and slowly began running. My blistered feet felt better, and my legs were still tired, but I could do this. I knew 100 miles would be almost impossible.

                I took a 5 hour energy shot. I ran with music. I danced while I ran. I chatted. I walked Mount Hinson, that giant mountain they put on the course. I napped in a chair. I got up and ran more.

                About two and a half hours from the finish, Rich and I began running together.

                He gave me a red bull and we talked each other’s ears off. We mostly ran, but we’d walk Mount Hinson.  I don’t remember what we talked about – dissolving marriages and cupcakes and blisters and this race and that race and oh this race and yeah that race. I ate a lot of pink cupcakes.

                Oh, the food. This year I ate homemade cookies and pizza that I took the cheese off of and animal crackers and cheese its and lots and lots of pink frosted cupcakes. Oh, how delicious it all tasted. At least my stomach was awesome! Yay!

                I ended up with 94.6 miles, or 93.6, something like that. Ugh. Depressing. So close, yet so far. And I still know that’s a pretty awesome effort – esp since I ran a 24 hour last weekend.

                My legs felt tired and my body was exhausted. Stress has been seeping in everywhere lately – it sucks. My blisters were out of control – I stopped to cut moleskin and cover them, but they were a horrendous mess and I think I scared my little sister when she saw me popping them afterwards. Yum.

                So Hinson? Not my best race. Nope. Not this year. But fun –yes. Lots and lots and lots of fun.

                I WILL BE BACK FOR SURE NEXT YEAR. I hope there will be pink frosted cupcakes!