Running Games: Urban Explorer

For the past few months I've been jumping back and forth between Pittsburgh and Phoenix, but I've maintained my running schedule.  This means running in a city I'm not so familiar with.

Running in Tempe was great!  I'd circle Tempe Town Lake, jog through the hip scenes, and see tons of other runners.  Our hotel was right on the lake between Tempe and Scottsdale, so it was easy to find interesting places to run.  Then we moved to the apartment in Chandler, which is much more characteristic of the rest of Phoenix and, as I am told, the southwest in general.  Perfect grid, square mile blocks of gated community, strip mall, and undeveloped lots.  It is as interesting to run around as staring at the wall in the fitness center while on a treadmill.  Add in the heat, and the treadmill definitely wins out.

But this is not a wah! on Phoenix blog--this is about overcoming obstacles that stand between me and being healthy.  And by golly, if boring runs aren't like the Great Wall of China to motivating me off the couch and into the outdoors.

Behold, one of my favorite running games: Urban Explorer.

The Urban Explorer never takes the same route twice, cares not about distance or time--only seeking adventure, jumps fences, follows dead end roads, chases pigeons, etc.

Here are the rules:
1) Do not map your course pre-run
2) Take no Garmin, no watch, and if you can handle it--don't even take an ipod
3) If you see something that looks interesting--be it graffiti, a pond, a hip-happening neighborhood, check it out!  Being in running gear is license to be inconspicuously nebby.  (Nebby for you non-Pittsburghers means curious or nosey)
4) Do bring your imagination and thrill-hunger!

I cheated a little when exploring Chandler--I looked up on Google maps to find the only non-square block nearby and headed toward it.

Sometimes what you find is fantastic, sometimes not so much.  As for my expedition of Chandler, AZ: The Good, the Bad, and the Smelly.

The Good:
I discovered this man-made pond stocked with fish, which attracted families and tons of different birds, making for quite a scenic little jog.  I need to make a nerd confession: I am a aviary-enthusiast.  I love birds!  Especially of the aquatic sort.  Some of my favorites that I encountered during this run were:

Snowy Egret

Blue Heron

Coot-look at it's awesome feet!

And of course-Mallards

The Bad (or hilarious):

Tail-wagging, wing-flapping, tongue-hissing attacking Canadian Goose.

As I approached the pond, a singular goose stood on the edge of the sidewalk near the pond.  Normally, these creatures don't strike fear into the hearts of mankind.  But on this particular day, when I came near, it started bobbing it head, then it started ruffling its feather, puffing out its chest and hissing.  At D-10ft, I slowed to a walk and just moved intentionally past it.  It hissed the whole time but that was about it.  Nevertheless, I got attacked by a Canadian Goose!

The Smelly:

For some tragic reason, a significant portion of the supplied fish had not quite thrived.  Therefore, at random points along the perimeter of the pond were foot deep, three foot wide piles of rotting fish carcasses.  Add a temperature of 85 degrees and it is worth holding your breath as you run on by.

Sorry, Marlin.

Beyond finding a great spot for bird watching, I gained a grasp of the land.  I figured out what stores and coffee places were in the vicinity, stumbled upon some art galleries and a fancy local pizza bistro, actually saw other runners, spotted more sheep grazing, and best of all, shaded sidewalk!  It's quite the commodity when running in Phoenix.

So whether it's Seattle, WA; Grand Forks, ND; Chandler, AZ; or your hometown--get out there and explore.  A little sense of adventure can awaken any boring run.

Running Games: The Angry Run

We've all had them; no one is immune--the days when you just want to shout: "CUSS THE WORLD, I FEEL LIKE CRYING!!!" Such a day was Monday for me, and what better way to respond to a day of irritation and indignation than with an Angry Run!

Perhaps, like me your toilet overflowed while you were trying to pack, or your unreasonable boss unloaded mounds of work upon you, or maybe you simply fell into a "sneaky hate spiral"  So for the days you feel like this:

I propose the "Angry Run"

First ingredient: Playlist.  My angsty teens have left me a robust collection of whiney, tempestuous music.  Remember the music genre "emo"--boy do I, and those shouting teen boys make the best unhappy, pouting music ever!  From my archives I chose Relient K's mmHmm 

 See how sad the flower looks and cloudy and gray it is?  It features such frustration releasing ballads as "Be My Escape"  

If you're not into angsty teen music, go for whatever music you would want to stomp around the house in and break cuss to.

Second Ingredient: Your worst jogging outfit.  This is a must.  You need to show the world, namely your neighbors and other runners, that this is no ordinary, running to be fit and healthy run--No, this is a funeral procession, a mourning journey, an Angry Run!

My ensemble: gray sweat pants from high school and thrift store find non-matching gray zip-up hoodie.  This ensemble personify the storm clouds of my day.  

Third Ingredient: Well, I guess anger really was the first ingredient, and the play list and worst outfit make up three, so now we're able to get cooking.

Once you've selected your playlist donned the burial shrouds of jogging attire, you are ready to embark on the Angry Run.  Ways to really enhance the flavor of the marathon-o-hate, if for these tasks to become stupidly impossible: 

My fingers are 5 times the size of my ipod 

For example, My ipod really wanted to shuffle my album when I wanted to listen to it straight through. Thus, I had to wrestle with the itsy, bitsy nano to conform to my will whilst running.  Also my hood kept getting tossed onto my right shoulder which made me feel unbalanced and personally scathed by wind and physics.

Some experienced, well-planning, and serious running individuals conduct "tempo runs" where you vary your speed based on distance as a way to train to be faster.  I disregard this and instead use angry runs to run faster than normal and burst into sprints, depending solely on the song I'm listening to and how cranky I feel.  

Don't out-do yourself too much though, because you don't want to become so winded you're unable to sing along to the song only you can hear at the top of your lungs while running down the sidewalk.  The confused and bewildered gazes of passer-byers will only affirm that the run is working.

Punching the air, jumping up and down, sporadic kicks, ninja chops, and lots of spitting all coalesce into a symphony of searing scorn.  Beating the pavement with every step emits livid lightening bolts, each as it streaks takes with it a tiny bit of the hate spiral.

Like a hurricane accosting the shore until every ounce of rain is spent, the Angry Run allows you to sweat and cuss and dash the the cranky away.

This my friends, is scientific.  Check out this awesome TED talk about running and life:

So next time you feel like this:

Do  some of this:

A Meditation on Perfectionism

Subtitle: How not to practice yoga.

The spicey scent of incense still lingered in my hair, as I laid, sporadically writhing, staring at the hushed humming ceiling fan. This state I knew I'd reap from my vanity--even with the foreboding of the instructor before entering the studio, "Take it easy as it's your first time." Yet as soon as I walked in the 80+ degree room and surveyed the limber reeds that composed the rest of the class, I instantly forgot such a warning.

I did hold back at first, both intentionally and unintentionally as my slippery, sweaty palms slid out beneath me or gravity demanded my limbs to the earth far before I reached my third breath. The workout had been a welcomed challenge. I did take it slow, more for fear of making myself the fool--I am only accustomed to only blind eyes of digital yoga instructors and class mates via work-out dvds. I was very excited to try something new and bond with new friend.

Emma has graciously invited me to her cousin's hot yoga class. Both of us are "in between jobs" and this adventure to Shadyside's Yoga Flow was a perfect way to feel productive despite having no pay check and beat the still freezing grasp winter holds on Pittsburgh. My plan had been to start the day with some low-intensity but invigorating yoga, breakfast, then go for a short run, perhaps later blog a new running game.

Alas, my pride landed me here, dizzying myself as I traced the fan blades unremitting path about the light. Indeed, the very last pose, the final movement for the overall relaxing and centering experience: the plough.

(Compliments of ABC of Yoga)

Feeling amazing and allowing myself to get a little cocky, I decided to really go for it for this last pose. I heaved my legs up and over my smug face and allowed my feet to fall over my head like a victory wreath. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale and drag my legs against gravity back over my head and "laying my spine down one vertebra at a time like strand of pearls. " Until this point, I noticed nothing amiss. Then, as my quaking heels approached within a foot of refuge on the floor, it felt as if someone had gone all Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the small of my back.

(Here would be picture of "lower back" via google image search if this hadn't resulted in lots of pictures of thongs, tramp stamps, and topless women)

At first I thought nothing of it. We went into that lay flat on your back on the floor for 5 minutes pose, and it seemed all was well. Even when I turned to the lay-on-your-side-and-try-not-to-fall-asleep-while-listening-to-soothing-music-after-a-long-work-out pose, I felt fine. It wasn't until I sat up, class finished, and tried to stand that it became apparent I had done something wrong.

Still full of adrenaline from an awesome work-out and not wanting to admit I had failed at yoga, I acted as if everything was cool. I mentioned nothing of it to my friend (sorry, Emma! I had a great time and really do want to give it another go, I promise!). I carried myself into my apartment, and collapsed on my bed to watch to unsympathetic ceiling fan.

The consent meditation that unfolded during the workout and endures now in recuperation was: I'm not doing all these things to be perfect; I'm doing it to cultivate a true quality of life. The goal is not perfection, it's a life worth living. Not Perfect, but Alive.

Running Games: Faster than Traffic

There's a point in one's running life when the miles flow more easily and pass faster, when you've traced all the side walks in your neighborhood, and when you've already listened to the 3 days worth of music on your playlist. This is the boredom slump, and you become completely aware that you are indeed just running in circles.

But behold! There's hope for you plagued by mundane routines: Running Games! When I get bored with my runs, I like to invent fun ways to stay interested through my workout. Today's game:

Faster than Traffic!Picture of Pittsburgh's infamous traffic brought to you by http://www.flickr.com/photos/dskrzycki/2930773750/

Here's how to play:
1) Choose a route along a secure sidewalk or trail near a notorious clustercuss of traffic.
2) Time your run to coincide with rush-hour.
3) Identify a) a starting point, b) a finish line and c) an opponent.
4) Race said opponent from Point (a) to point (b).

For example:
As a South Side (of Pittsburgh) resident, I am all too familiar with E. Carson's epic clusters and bottlenecks, so on today's run I chose 10th st and E Carson as pt (a). Then I eyed up a white pick-up truck. Unbeknownst to the driver, they became my destined rival for a knock-down, drag-out to 1st st.

The race was on. As white truck sat guzzling gas and coughing up CO2 emissions, I easily pulled ahead. Then the distant light flashed green, white truck seized my conquered ground and then some. But my steady pace wore White Truck down, as yet again it became ensnared in gridlock. After surmounting the hill top at 6th st, the finish line appeared in sight.

I hastened forward, but alas with a mere extension of the driver's foot, White Truck dashed ahead. Insult to injury, a clumsy, clamoring PAT bus followed. Not to be deterred, I held my cadence and rejected defeat. At 4th st, I witnessed my foe rapt with the crimson beacon, and I sailed past. My fortune, however, soon changed when in no less than one blocked did the fickle temptress signal once again unleashed my enemy from her hold.

Mustering courage and strength I sprinted on toward the unassuming 1st st finish line sign with White Truck hot on my trail. With sure-footedness and victorious fist pumps, I landed on the sidewalk corner with both feet simultaneous in grand conquest with 4 car lengths to spare. Take that White Truck, today the bi-ped is supreme!

Look for more Running Games as I start upping the mileage for the Pittsburgh Half-Marathon in May.

Beating the Winter

This is a typical wintery week in bleak Pittsburgh. Note the bi-polar weather patterns of 20 degree temperature shifts, precipitation of snow, no rain, no tiny kamikaze ice spears dive-bombing one's retinas, and forecasts just shy of "WTF?!" and "Who the hell knows?" Now ask yourself, what kind of lunatic willingly submits themself to such cruel humor of a rather ornery mother-nature. I do.

My $80 is paid, and I'm all set for 3rd half-marathon this May. Granted that's tons of time for training, so I need not venture out in these dreary weather conditions. Yet I'm out to prove I'm more headstrong than the damned Pittsburgh winter, and I will not let a little snain (snow + rain) keep me from running. Hence my goal of beating the winter.

Now that you've met winter:
You can appreciate why it is my duty, nay my life's work to kick its ass. How do I plan on battling such a formidable foe, you ask. I'll tell you that you may conquer it as well!

1) Running 3 times a week no matter what winter throws at me. Snain, I scoff at thee!

2) Indoor activities: mounting the heights of The Climbing Wall Inc., work-out DVDs, and best of all: Hot Yoga! What better way to tell winter to suck it than sweating and feeling the burn despite the wind chill?

3) Embracing my inner hermit by reading (The Chronicles of Narnia, Poisonwood Bible, Traveling Mercies to name a few), knitting and crafting, and well now blogging

4) And my best winter weapon yet: The Crock Pot! When the Februaries start dragging you down, reach for the best comfort food via this indispensable kitchen apparatus. Below is one of my favorite slow-cooker go-tos.

Beef Stew:
1) Brown a pound of local, grass-fed stew beef in a skillet with 3-4 diced garlic cloves.
If you're a Pittsburgher, I obtain meat from J. Michael Farms, who is currently selling stew meat!
2) Place 4 cups broth, 1 large chopped onion, 3-4 chopped carrots, green pepper, a 16 oz can of diced tomatoes, 3-4 diced roma tomatoes, more garlic, and one cup of barley along with the browned meat into the crock pot.
3) Cook on low for 6-8 hours