We’ve been planning our kitchen renovation for what feels like forever so I was very excited to finally move forward with the project.  Had I known how insane it was going to be, I’d have been far less anxious.   You think I’d have learned my lesson by now.  When we bought this house, I FAR underestimated the work involved in buying a fixer-upper.  Every presumably easy task turned into a nightmare of epic proportions.  (Hello, 87 layers of wallpaper in every room.)  Why then, did I think this project would be any different?

I naively thought we would take the old cabinets off the walls, do some painting, choose some pretty new lights and hardware and then put the new cabinets and counters in.  OK, maybe we’d have to cut a hole in the wall and do some patch work.  I’d be brave and deal with it.  With that in mind, you can imagine the stroke I had when I found myself standing dumbstruck in the middle of THIS.  (Click for the horror.)

Uh, when did the bomb strike?  I officially live on a construction site.  Apparently, we’re lucky because within our shell of a kitchen, we still have a working fridge, stove, dishwasher and sink.  They’re all covered with a 3 inch thick layer of gray grime but hey, a little insulation dust never hurt anyone, right?  It should be noted that preparing a meal is exponentially more difficult when your shit is all over the GD place.  Last night, a simple meal (soup) turned into a frantic back and forth dance between the office closet where the dishes are located, to the dining room table where the utensils have set up residence and then over to the laundry basket (naturally) to gather up some spices and where the HELL is that oregano anyway???  By the time I returned to the pot, I’d scalded the onions and concluded that eating is overrated.  My discouragement shows and my dinners have increasingly gotten worse.  I can’t help it.  When faced with the alternative, a Jello pudding cup starts to look pretty damn appealing.  Also, appealing?  Booze.  You know what they say about hard times and all.

Speaking of food, I am continually amazed when people see my pictures and say: “Wow, I guess you’ll be eating a lot of take-out, huh?”  Really?  Take-out?  You mean there are people who can afford to eat during a kitchen remodel?  Color me impressed because in this house, “remodel” is synonymous with “flat broke”.  We prepared for this renovation too.  We saved and saved and when we had saved more than we ever thought we’d need, we went ahead and saved some more.  Despite what we thought was an overly generous budget, unexpected expenses have blown said budget out of the water.  Let me just say that it’s never a good sign when a carpenter comes in, puts his hands on his hips, looks at the existing construction in wonderment and whistles.  An equally bad sign is when your plumber husband gets a peek at what’s beneath the walls and starts shouting “Mother F*cker!!  Are you f*cking kidding me?  You stupid %$*(*#&$#&@(#(&$#(*”  Take it from me – don’t even waste time asking questions.  Each time you hear this, you can just open up your budget spreadsheet and tack on another five grand or so.

So that is where I am.  Everyone keeps telling me that it will be so worth it in the end which would be a lot more reassuring if I actually believed that there will be an end to this.  Currently, it’s pretty hard to imagine.  Perhaps I’ll be a little more rational about it all once I’m no longer exhausted, dusty and starving.

I’ve probably posted these pictures in no less than 8 different places but for anyone who has not already seen them, behold our kitchen disaster:

Pictures

After my first marathon training cycle, I decided to start a new tradition:  Run a marathon, wait a few weeks, race a 5K.  It seemed to work for me last time when I set a 5K PR two weeks after Philly.  The 5K is my most dreaded distance but I seem to perform better when I’m fresh off the tails of a marathon.  After all, when you’ve just done 26.2, 3.1 feels awfully short.  Last time I did this, I ran a small 5K that didn’t use chip timing and my 25:12 finish turned into an “official” time of 25:28.  This time, I shopped around and located a flat course WITH chip timing.  No way was I losing any hard-earned seconds this time around.

The Charles River run is a 7.5M and a 5K race but the majority of people seemed to be doing the 7.5M.  It felt strange to do the shorter distance for once!  My goal for this race was to break an 8:00 pace.  It’s something I’ve never done, nor ever thought possible, really.  (Remember, I’m a slowpoke, people.)  It wasn’t until I ran the Harpoon 5(+) Miler at an 8:01 pace that I realized sub-8 should be attainable.

I lined up right at the 8 minute pace sign and prepared to attack my goal.  The gun went off and I did too.  There’s no pacing yourself in a race like this so I just ran at a speed that felt *just* bearable enough to hold for 3 miles.  I crossed my fingers that this would be under 8:00.  When I hit the one mile marker in 7:57 I knew I had timed it just right.  Also – woohoo!  My first ever full mile under 8:00 – !  That first mile was followed by 2 more, also under 8:00, albeit just barely.  I could give you some more commentary here but it’s nothing out of the ordinary.  I contemplated quitting, I contemplated puking, I contemplated smacking myself for signing up for another stupid 5K…the usual.

The finish was awkward.  The terrain went suddenly from pavement to rocky dirt and I had to concentrate to stay balanced.  I couldn’t see the finish even though I knew I was close.  After a hairpin turn, it was right in front of me but there wasn’t much space for a sprint and I couldn’t finish as strong as I’d have liked.  I crossed the finish line in 25:02 and knew I had a PR.  The official results gave me a net time of 24:46 for an average pace of 7:58 min./mile.

Even though I made my goal, I was a tad disappointed.  I raced at a nearly identical race to Harpoon despite the fact that the course was 2.2 miles shorter.  I do think I did the best I was capable of that day but I’ve got to believe that there’s a better race in me.  I hate making excuses but I must point out that I spent the evening prior to the race at a party.  With a keg.  A keg that I probably should have distanced myself from much more than I did.  Oh well.  It is what it is and I’d still call the race a success.

Finish time aside, I think what I’m most proud of is my placement in this race.  I ended up being 17th out of 207 in the 18-29 F division.  (Top 8%)  Overall, I was 108/762.  (Top 14%)  I also noticed that if I were 7 months older, I’d have made top 10 for my age group.  Me, somewhere other than bringing up the caboose?!  That’s crazy.  Probably it was not a competitive field.  I don’t know.  Regardless, I think slow, un-athletic little me has come a long way in the last few years. 

After this race, I made Barry swear up and down that he would not let me sign up for another 5K.  I always think I want to do them and then 20 seconds into the race, I regret it.  He promised.  When I got home, I received an email about a local 5K in my town.  Barry told me not to sign up.  I nodded my head in agreement and stepped away from the laptop.  I went to bed, I woke up, I started thinking about how I could have raced better….  When I got into work this morning, I went and signed up anyway.  What can I say?  I’m a glutton for punishment.

I knew several months back that this was going to be a crazy summer.  My calendar is chock full with birthdays, 4 weddings and their accompanying bridal showers, 5 Red Sox games, races, parties, marathon training and let’s not forget a complete kitchen renovation.  Fun stuff all of it but time consuming nevertheless.  This past week, I learned that my summer just got even busier.  At work, I’ve been appointed the main HR contact/project leader for the global HR system we’re implementing.  It’s an exciting opportunity and will allow me to work with not just the US but with our Bermuda, Dublin, London and Hong Kong HR folks as well.  While I’m thrilled for the professional experience, I’m also nervous, especially since I’m required to devote 70% of my working time to this project.  I’m not quite sure how I’ll fit the rest of my work into a little 30% bucket.  I suspect a lot of overtime.  (You know, because I have so much free time waiting to be filled.)  Needless to say, life will be hectic for a while.  I suspect that I’ll be updating this blog inconsistently at best.

I don’t have much to say about running at the moment.  I’m in the early stages of Chicago training and if I posted about my runs, I’d just be complaining about how IT WON’T STOP RAINING.  I need to fit in my runs but mother nature refuses to cooperate.  I think we’ve all heard enough complaints about the weather though so I’ll just leave it at that.

In kitchen news, I got an email from our cabinet lady telling us that our cabinets will be shipping next week.  Gulp.  With our busy schedule and the fact that Barry threw his back out, very little has been done to prepare for the cabinets.  Correction, nothing has been done.  Our current kitchen remains fully intact and that is a little scary.  Yesterday, in a frenzy of ohmygodwhatthehellhavewebeendoing?!?!?! we forced ourselves to make some decisions and we actually bought some stuff for this remodel.  Much of what we got (electrical supplies, a shop vac, plastic sheeting) is pretty dull stuff so I’ll just share the fun parts.

These are our pendant lights.  I spent an insane amount of time waffling between various designs and finally went back to the very first ones I liked.  Our kitchen will be very white/stainless and modern so I wanted something to soften it and make it more natural.  I hope the rattan material will do the trick.  I plan to add dark bamboo blinds and dark brown bar stools to tie it all together.  If you hate them, just lie to me because I can’t afford to start the search over again.

Our cabinet hardware was an equally difficult decision.  I *think* I like what we chose but it’s pretty hard to visualize when you’re just staring at a heap of knobs and pulls.  I definitely like the pulls, not so sure about the knobs.  Let’s just say I’m saving the receipt.

Finally, I think we’ve settled on this faucet, despite Barry’s snobbery about the brand.  Personally, I’m excited!  It’s the first time in my life that I haven’t been drawn to the most expensive thing.  Also, I know how I am and by the time this breaks I’ll be ready to replace it with something else anyway.

So that’s it for now.  I’m just going to gut these next few months out but I look forward to emerging from this crazy summer!

I think I’ve snapped out of the slump I was in for a couple weeks.  I felt a little lost immediately after the marathon but I forgot about all the good things that go along with the decrease in training.  First and foremost, this is a great time to run all sorts of races that I can’t otherwise fit in.  To kick things off, I ran the Harpoon 5 Miler this weekend along with Barry and a group of running friends.  I did this run two years ago with less than stellar results due to a hydration issue.  This time around, I was itching to do better.

Lucky for me, I actually got the chance to beat my prior race.  You see, an alternative title for this post could have been “The Race that Almost Wasn’t”.  For those that don’t know, I am prone to being scatterbrained.  I lose EVERYTHING and I’m forgetful.  It’s a terrible character flaw, one that makes Barry absolutely crazy.  Par for the course, I arrived at the race with all items in hand except my timing chip to attach to my shoe.  This is a slightly important item to have on hand.  No chip, no time.  Without it, I wouldn’t get a race result and I may as well not even run.  I had it in my hand that morning when I got into my car and lost it somewhere between my car and the car of a friend who drove us to the race.  This resulted in much panic on my part but the kind race volunteers had mercy on me and dug up a spare bib # and timing chip so I could race officially.  Crisis averted!

Unlike 2 years ago, the weather on Saturday was perfect.  The sky was overcast and the temperature was cool.  It wasn’t a completely familiar course for me.  Due to some construction, the route was (temporarily?) slightly different and also slightly longer by 0.3 miles.  Since the race sold out in a mere 90 minutes, they also got approved for an additional 500 runners, bringing the total to 2,000.  This was evident when we lined up at the start.  There were pace signs for people to stand at but they were almost comical.  There were so many people that probably 60% of us were standing well beyond the 14 min./mile sign.  When the gun went off, you could still feel the size of the crowd.  The first mile was an exhausting exercise in dodging and weaving until I was able to get into a comfortable rhythmn and find some breathing room.

From pretty much the first mile, I was reminded of how much I hate short races.  As exhausting as a marathon is, I really do enjoy myself for the majority of it.  I smile, I talk, I wave to my family, etc.  I hate short races where you run for speed.  I just grit my teeth and pray for it to be over quickly.  This race was no exception.

I managed to stay in sight of Barry for the first 2+ miles but then he was gone and I was alone in my misery.  Since I stared at my Garmin for nearly the entire race (I’m only at what mile??) I had a good idea of how I was doing.  For nearly every mile, I hit an 8:03 pace.  I knew this was faster than my best 5K pace from December so I started to doubt my ability to hold on.  I tried to redirect my thoughts and think of anything except what I was doing at that moment.  I bypassed the water stops and forced myself onward, desperate to finish without a crash and burn.  Towards the end, I swore off races for the rest of my life.  (This is a recurring theme for me, if you haven’t noticed but I forget my vow as soon as I cross the finish line.)  I started to get nauseous and really thought I was going to lose my lunch – a clear sign that I was indeed pushing myself to the max.  Well intentioned volunteers urged us on, letting us know that we were only a few minutes away from beer and sausage.  Sausage!  Dear God!  I struggled to block out their words and keep the contents of my stomach inside.  Just in time, I turned a corner and saw the finish line ahead.  A quick little burst of speed and I was done.  Whew!  The sick feeling subsided a bit and I was free to smile and enjoy the moment.  Happily, I beat my previous time by a longshot (5 min.), even despite the extra long course.  Barry rocked his race as well.  Final stats:

• Lauren:  5.3M in 42:33, Avg. Pace: 8:01, Division Place: 153/961, Overall Place: 530/1944
• Barry:  5.3M in 40:44, Avg. Pace: 7:42, Division Place: 238/694, Overall Place: 381/1944

After the race, the group of us enjoyed many (too many) beers.  Fortunately, I had to be home for my Dad’s 60th birthday dinner so it forced me to stop.  I’m just not cut out for that volume of drinking anymore.

After this race, I’m really excited to do a 5k and see what my time would be.  I never thought I’d be able to race at a 7-somthing pace but I think I might finally be at the point, at least for a 5k.  I immediately went home and signed up for one so I’ll get a chance to find out in 3 weeks.  Woo hoo!

At one week since the race, I think I’ve officially come down with the post-marathon blues.  I don’t have anything to be sad about.  I trained hard, I had a successful race and I can look back on the day with pride.  So why do I feel all bummed out?

I remember feeling like this the day after Barry and I got married.  For two years, my life was centered around wedding planning.  It was an enormous build-up to what equated to a mere 8 hours of celebration.  On the day after the wedding I packed away my dress and unpinned my fancy hairdo.  The cake had been eaten, the music played, the dances danced.  It was all over.  Sure, I had a wonderful husband to show for it but there’s something magical about your wedding day, right?

I guess the marathon is a bit like that but on a smaller scale.  For the last 18 weeks I’ve had this singular goal in front of me.  Most of the time, I couldn’t wait for it to be over.  I was exhausted from training and looked enviously at people around me who were able to live a normal life.  Despite all my moaning, there was still pleasure in that period of preparation.  On a tough day, I could envision the race and look forward to the happiness I’d feel when I completed it.  I miss that feeling.  Do you see how this marathon stuff can be addictive?  Nobody told me that my first 5 mile race was a gateway drug for all that followed.  Now I can’t seem to live without that adrenaline rush.  To phrase it in an extremely corny way, I’ve come down from an awesome, natural high and I need my next fix.

This morning will be my third post-marathon run.  Knock wood, I’m feeling good if a little purposeless.  Training for Chicago begins on June 8th.  I can’t wait to get back into the swing of things.

It’s the day after the race and I’m still on an adrenaline rush from yesterday so I’m going to use the energy to type up the recap before I forget it.  Vermont was, in a word – amazing.  When searching for spring races, VT seemed like a good bet both for me and for Barry, who was running his first ever marathon.  It’s not too small, with 8,500 total runners comprised of marathoners and marathon relay teams.  It’s semi-close to home, is fairly flat with just a few notable hills and has good crowd support.

We arrived in Burlington on Friday and immediately headed to the expo to get our numbers.   We browsed around a little bit and then headed downtown for dinner.  You only have to spend about 30 seconds downtown to realize that the marathon is a BIG deal in Burlington.  There were banners everywhere and practically every establishment had a “Welcome, Runners!” sign.  When we sat down at our table in the restaurant, they even had a little display on the table with marathon facts and history and a map of the course.  It was a really cool atmosphere all around.

On Saturday, we spent the day doing nothing of importance.  We had some random errands to run and that helped occupy my brain and kept the nervousness at bay.  My family (a.k.a. cheering squad) arrived in town as well as a friend from running club.  We briefly visited with my family and then toured the course with our runner friend and then finally settled in for the night.  Or so we thought.  I did have one minor freak out when I realized that my stomach was growling.  I’d never truly carbo-loaded over the previous 2 days due to the drive up to VT and all the running around.  I mentally tried to add up how many carbs I’d eaten and the result was: not many.  I felt like I was in a bad dream.  Since our dinner was heavier on the protein than carbs, Barry saved me and ran out to the grocery store for some last minute pasta.  Finally, with my belly uncomfortably full, I went to bed and fell into an immediate, deep sleep.

On Sunday morning, I woke to discover a weather forecast that was a complete 180 of what had been predicted all week long, right up until the day before.  I expected sunny, cool and low humidity.  Instead, it was cloudy, about 10 degrees warmer, with a 30% chance of rain and higher humidity.  It was a shock for sure but I’m glad they didn’t predict it all along because it would only have stressed me out.  Finding out a mere hour before the race meant that I didn’t have time to panic.

After the usual morning routine, my parents picked us up from our hotel and we headed to the starting line.  The moment we parked, it started to sprinkle.  Not a great way to start things off.  Barry and I said our good-byes to my family and headed to Battery Park to use the facilities and stand under the trees to stay dry.  I started getting nervous but I knew that as soon as I began running, I’d be fine.  We lined up in the corrals (a bit farther back than we wanted) and soon the gun went off and we were running.

From the very beginning, this was a different race than Philly.  Knowing that I’d have Barry with me the entire time was an enormous benefit.  After 18 long weeks of training together, he’d become my security blanket.  It was also exciting for me to be able to accompany him on his first marathon.  When I did mine, it was the best feeling in the world and I was thrilled that I would get to watch him experience the same thing.  The first miles passed quickly and pleasantly.  The course wound us all around the city and the fan support was spectacular.  Barry was grinning ear to ear and said “this race is awesome!”  We saw my family cheering and waving signs at mile 3 or so and it was a nice little boost.

Up until that point it was still drizzling but it felt nice, given the temperature of about 60 degrees.  However, as we began an out and back section along a highway (not as awful as it sounds) the rain picked up considerably.  Soon, we were completely saturated.  I just did my best to stay out of the puddles and tried not to let it get to me.  The only saving grace was that the rain was coming straight down and my visor kept it out of my eyes.  (It’s the blow-in-your-face type of rain that has the tendency to break me down.)  The highway section ended with a fairly tough hill at mile 8.  I was still feeling fresh so I was able to get up it with no problem.  For Barry, who always attacks hills like a maniac, it was a piece of cake. 

Thus far, we were maintaining a decent pace.  With no earthly idea of what I was even shooting for, I thought I’d just try to maintain our 9:15-ish training pace for as long as it felt comfortable.  With the exception of the first two crowded miles, we pretty much did just that.  Our splits were:  9:56, 9:35, 9:20, 8:59, 9:01, 9:10, 9:12, 9:23 (the hill).  The pace felt easy so we continued on.  The next stretch brought us back through town and the wonderful crowds.  We were soaking wet but still all smiles when we saw my family at the 9 mile marker.  We did a water bottle swap and grabbed a quick picture together.

We only stopped for 10 seconds or so but my Dad urged us:  “Keep going, keep going!” so we did.  The next part of the course was a long downhill followed by some residential areas and then onto the bike path.  Somewhere in there, the rain finally tapered off and we were more comfortable.  That comfort wouldn’t last for long though.  We knew that a major hill was coming up at mile 15 and we wanted to conserve some energy.  This sounded good in theory but was hard to execute, especially coming off a downhill.  We never did find a way to change gears and slow our pace.   Instead, our splits remained consistent:  9:14, 9:00, 9:23, 9:04, 9:11, 9:21.

As we exited the bike bath, we knew the hill was just ahead.  Coined “The Assault on Battery Hill” this part of the course is a long 3/4 mile stretch up Battery Street spanning 6 city blocks.  It begins with a gradual incline and then gets steeper and steeper as you near the top.  Fortunately, the crowds are plentiful and a group of taiko drummers performs at the bottom to boost your spirits.  It was there on Battery Street that I finally appreciated all the painfully hilly courses we’ve trained on.  As people slowed and walked around us, we were able to keep it going.  It was not a fun hill but we made it to the top, stopping for a brief second halfway up to do another bottle swap with my family.  As we crested the hill, I knew that the worst was behind us and it was all downhill (in a good way) from there.

While the hill itself wasn’t so terrible, it wreaked some havoc on our pace.  We covered that mile in 11:18, way off our target.  It was followed by another slow 9:54 mile as we tried to recover our energy.  I started to worry about losing my groove.  I had done well up until that point but I knew that the race could potentially start going in an entirely different direction if I didn’t pull myself back on track.  To compensate, I tried to go faster and overdid it a little.  Miles 17 and 18 were done in 8:46 and 8:40 which was a bit faster than I wanted with 8 long miles still ahead of us.  Finally, despite 4 miles of roller coaster splits, we stablized and got back onto our 9:15-ish pace.

Thus far, Barry and I had been talking the whole way, giving high fives at every mile and generally enjoying the run.  By mile 19, it started to get labored.  We were away from the big crowds, weaving in and out of residential areas and then back on the bike path where the crowds were thinner.  I put my iPod on really low to try to motivate myself.  It helped for a couple of songs but I quickly tired of it and turned it off.  We continued to high five each other at each mile (I was becoming a bit superstitious about it) but our conversation dried up almost entirely.

They say that in a marathon, there exist two races:  the first takes place over the first 20 miles.  The second race begins at mile 20.  This rang true in VT in a way that it didn’t during Philly.  Somewhere between miles 19 and 20, the real race began.  I was tired at 19.  Each mile thereafter became progressively more difficult until mile 22 when I was insanely ready to be done.  I was thoroughly worn down but not far enough along that I could tell myself:  “You’re almost there!”  In reality, I had about 40 more minutes of running ahead of me and I could not imagine running for 40 more steps.  My feet felt like bricks.  Every single step forward was a test of my willpower.  I could tell that Barry was struggling beside me as well.

Shortly after the 22 mile marker, I broke out in goosebumps, which terrified me.  It was hot.  The rain had ceased.  The sun had come out full force and the temperature had risen.   Goosebumps could only mean dehydration.  Having experienced this before, I knew it would stop me in my tracks if I didn’t do something about it.  Therefore, as much as I hated to do it, I forced myself to stop and take every cup of water that was offered to me.  I was afraid I’d cramp if I slowed down but I couldn’t ignore my body’s need for water.  I was too close to the end to risk complete physical decline.

Somehow, I continued on but mile 23 brought on Barry’s toughest mile.  He was hurting and told me to go ahead if I felt good.  I assured him that I certainly did not feel good and we stuck together.  At mile 24, we did a role reversal.  Barry grabbed a cup of beer (!?) and suddenly got his wind back.  I, on the other hand, fell deeper into despair and wanted to cry at the thought of two more miles.  I told Barry to go ahead but he wouldn’t leave me.  I just kept breaking it down and telling myself that in about 18 minutes, I’d be done, 15 minutes and I’d be done, etc.  The miles seemed to stretch endlessly.  Beyond all reason, our pace was only slowing slightly.  Miles 19-24 were:  9:12, 9:13, 9:18, 9:24, 9:36, 9:28.  Unfortunately, I lost my GPS signal between 24-25 miles so those were the last splits I’d record.

In the final two miles people around us were dropping like flies, stopping to walk or stopping completely.  It was hard to resist joining them.  I know most people would wonder how someone could quit so close to the finish.  I can 100% understand why they would.  Those final miles mess with your head.  For me, nothing in that moment mattered.  I ceased to care when I finished.  I’d put in long weeks of hard work but it was irrelevant.  Had Barry not been with me, I could easily have stopped.  However, as long as he was moving forward, I was going to move forward with him.  I really believe that’s the only thing that kept me going.   If I have one complaint about the race, it’s this part of the course.  The bike path was narrow and with so many people stopping to walk, I expended far more energy dodging and weaving than I’d have liked.  Every movement was a monumental effort and the added obstacles nearly killed me.

As Barry and I hit mile 25, we knew it was just about done.  We could hear the crowds ahead and knew we were going to make it there running.  The last half mile or so finishes in Battery Park where there are tens of thousands of spectators.  It was overwhelming.  I was so happy and wanted to sprint but it was nearly impossible.  My body was done and it made no bones about it.  As we rounded the final curve, we saw my family.  Their cheers were energizing and gave me just what I needed to give one *teeny tiny* push to the finish.

Barry and I crossed at the exact same time with huge smiles on our faces.  I was dazed for the next few minutes and conflicting emotions washed over me:  joy, exhaustion, excitement…I was torn between the desire to jump up and down and the desire collapse to the ground and weep.  If I thought that the reward would be less sweet for my second marathon, I was wrong.  So completely wrong.  It was every bit as satisfying as Philly after all the effort that went into achieving it.

Barry and I gave each other a big sweaty hug and I remember saying “You’re a marathoner!”  I was so thrilled for him, for both of us.  Philly was awesome but sharing the event with Barry took this race to a whole new level.  The marathon is an experience like no other and to go through all the highs and lows with my husband was nothing short of amazing.  Truth be told, the battle began long before 8 a.m. on May 24th.  Race day was the prize.  The hard part was what led up to it.  Training on my own was difficult.  When 100% of our household was training, it was even harder.  With both of us running 4-5 days a week, our life fell to pieces around us.  It was hard to fit in other social obligations, not to mention household chores, taking care of the dogs and simple things like eating dinner.  I’m afraid to admit how many nights I came home to a messy house, ate ice cream for dinner and passed out at 8:00.  With Barry in training too, there was nobody to pick up the slack.  We were grumpy.  There were moments when we wanted to strangle each other.  Even so, we got through it.  The race played out much like the rest of our life leading up to it.  It was a struggle but we supported each other to the end.  I like to think we came through the experience even stronger.

In the afterglow of the race, Barry and I celebrated with my family.  We had a delicious dinner out on Church Street and then opened a bottle of wine we’d been saving for several years from our trip to Sonoma.  It was a perfect end to the event.

As for the final stats, I couldn’t be more thrilled:

• Lauren:  Net Time:  4:05:02 (A PR by 40+ minutes.)  Avg. Pace: 9:21, Division Place:  71/228, Overall Place:  1105/2410
• Barry:  Net Time:  4:05:02, Avg. Pace: 9:21, Division Place:  130/206, Overall Place:  1106/2410

It was a little tough to miss breaking 4 hours by such a small margin but I’m not too upset.  After all, I’ve gotta have a goal for Chicago…. 

Per the Vermont City Marathon website:

RACE DAY FORECAST

Three more days until the race, and the weather is still looking great for the marathon!

Good thing the race won’t be today.  It’s going to be hot!  Temperatures will be well into the 80s, with some locations hitting the 90 degree mark.

But a weak cold front will come through early Friday and bring our temperatures back to more normal levels for this time of year.

One last, fast-moving disturbance will swing through on Saturday, kicking up some clouds and maybe a few showers by later in the day.  But it will be out of here by Sunday morning.

So, at this point, it looks like there will be lots of sunshine on Sunday, low humidity, a light North wind, and comfortable temperatures.  The low temperature looks to be in the upper 40s to near 50 degrees early Sunday morning.  The high temperature will be in the upper 60s to near 70 degrees during the afternoon.

I am breathing an enormous sigh of relief.

Since Barry and I are currently on a running break, we’ve had time to show some love to our badly neglected house.  First, we made some kitchen progress and finally chose and ordered our new cabinets.  After a lot of agonizing, we finally went with this white shaker cabinet with a vertical groove by Elmwood Kitchens.  This is their Dakota door with a 2.5″ border.  We love it!  It almost makes those yellow countertops look nice.  Err…maybe not.  In about 8 weeks time, they’ll be shipped to our kitchen, which will hopefully be ready to receive them.

Also, while I was stretching on my front steps post-run the other day, it occurred to me that our house numbers had seen better days.  This launched me into an online search for the perfect numbers to adorn our doorway.  After spending way more time on this endeavor than I care to admit, I finally paused and asked myself WTF I was doing.  I realized that having all this extra time on my hands is not necessarily a good thing.  Thus, I got myself to Home Depot and purchased these numbers which do the trick.

The only problem, of course, is that we hung the numbers higher than the previous set and therefore I now have to patch the old holes and paint over them.  Plus, it made me realize that we need a new doorbell.  Don’t you just love how completing one project always leads to a new project?

Speaking of projects, our garden is the mother of all of them.  It’s a work in progress and will always be a work in progress because it’s a Herculean effort that we just don’t have the manpower for.  Barry and I were feeling pretty bad about it but then we reminded ourselves that the previous owner was a 90 year old man who lived alone and had nothing better to do than flex his green thumb all the live long day.  We certainly don’t have that luxury so if we can at least prevent it from being a total eyesore, I think we’ll call it a victory.  My Dad spent a good chunk of Saturday assisting Barry with weeding and edging and on Sunday, we decided to mulch.  It took 15 bags to cover the front row of plants and the area around our azaleas.  (Excuse the dead tulips.  They’ll be gone once I research what you do with dead tulips or once the bunnies finish eating the leaves, whichever comes first.)

As I’m looking at these pictures, I’m also noticing the length of our grass.  You’d never know that it was just cut very recently.  Isn’t there some expression about “it’s like watching grass grow”?  And isn’t this expression a simile for a painfully slow, boring process?  If so, I think it’s a wildly inaccurate use of the phrase.  Seriously, we have some speedy grass.  We could conceivably get a bowl of popcorn, park ourselves on the patio and see some pretty intense action in just half an hour.

My final weekend semi-accomplishment was the purchase of some tomato plants and a basil plant.  This project was brought to a screeching halt when I tried to pot them and discovered that there were big earth worms in the bag of potting soil.  Given my fear of bugs, I’m currently reconsidering whether I need to grow veggies after all.   The jury is still out but let’s just say that Shaws just earned a new level of appreciation in my book.

At the end of my taper for Philly, I definitely had a case of taper madness but I’ve been feeling so good this time around that I honestly thought I might escape it.  In fact, I was telling our running group on Saturday how excited I am and that I’m not even nervous at all.  Ha!  All it took was this weather thing to send me off my rocker.

This morning I woke up 45 minutes before my alarm and raced downstairs to check the forecast.  Yes that’s right, folks.  At 5:00 in the frickin’ morning I was so distressed about the forecast I saw yesterday for a date TWO WEEKS from now that I absolutely could not fall back asleep.  I had to know right that very instant whether the predicted temps were still comparable to the weather in Hell.  The answer – praise the lord – was no.  I promise I will not post silly and highly inaccurate weather updates every damn day from now until the marathon.  However, I’d just like to point out that in a matter of twelve hours, the forecast has shifted from 84 degrees with thunderstorms to 64 degrees and sunny.  Somewhere out there, a weatherman is trying to f*** with me and it’s working.

 Last night I also had my first official race nightmare.  In this dream, the heat had deterred most runners and there were only about 20 of us running the marathon.  I was at the starting line when I suddenly realized that I needed to bring some protein with me.  I ran back to the hotel but all I had was a piece of frozen, graying fish*.  I took it out of the freezer intending to come back for it once it was thawed and ran back to the starting line.  Suddenly, I remembered that I had put some bananas in my fuel belt.  Crisis averted.  But wait!  I reached in to get one and alas, it had melted from the heat.  Fortunately, this is where I woke up.

See what everyone in my life has to look forward to for the next 2 weeks?  The ravings of an absolute lunatic.  My common sense hath forsaken me.  I can only hope that the next 12 days will pass quickly and the weatherman will show some mercy.

*For the record, this part of my nightmare was generated by the clear tupperware container in our work fridge which contains an enormous piece of half-eaten graying salmon and a fork.  Said salmon has been sitting there for about a week but the fork inside the container leads one to believe that someone intends to come back for it.  If the fish carcass continues to sit there and decay, it may actually overtake the marathon in my nightmares.

The weather forecast is now up for Memorial Day Weekend.  I know it’s too soon to get my panties in a bunch but I can’t help it.  When you spend 18 weeks training for a race and become completely consumed by one single goal, it’s hard not to obsess.  Yesterday, the forecast read 62 and cloudy and I was elated.  Today, they are predicting my absolute worst nightmare:  a real feel of 87 degrees with thunderstorms.

Yesterday I prayed that they were right.  Today, I will pray that they are wrong.