Best of both worlds?

I'm finally back on my feet (again) running short distances and working up to getting back out on the trails. Currently running roads in the Saucony Kinvara ViziPro and loving them, but ever since my trail incident I've been wondering if I need to change my shoes again.  Is it possible to be minimalist on the roads and ultra-cushioned on the trails?

I've been reading reviews of the Hoka One One Mafate for the past several weeks and being the lover of crazy shoes that I am, I'm really interested in trying them, but at $170 I'm wondering if they live up to the hype?

Off the map and into the cosmos

Welly welly well, my little droogs, it would appear as though I stepped into the Korova Milkbar for a quick shot and spent the next 60 days on a soya milk bender...But that story would be far more interesting than the truth.  The truth, my friends, is that my fall in that race two months ago was a bit more damaging than I originally thought and I've spent the last eight plus weeks doing as little as possible on my feet, limping about and losing all the mileage I gained over months of training.  So now I'm tired from a few VERY short runs and I'm working hard to get my head in the right space and to get my body back.

So, while I plot modest upcoming race goals, and continue conditioning my body for longer runs and low flying aerial dance (my latest aerial interest)...feel free to enjoy a brief video.  Be kind, please, as this was my first official public performance.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAMz0ak9cPw

Trail Runners don't cry...

...but the moment after I had my inexplicably painful fall on Saturday and tried to walk-run a few steps I really really wanted to. I looked at the two women who had been using me as their pacer as they disappeared further up the trail ahead of me, I saw the early finishers coming toward me and I thought for a crazy moment that I might be able to hobble my way through the remaining 5 miles.  I tried to put pressure on my right forefoot and I knew for sure that I was done. For the first time in my relatively brief running career (10 years is brief compared to some, right?), I pulled myself out of a race. The official photographer at the water crossing marveled at the gnarliness of my injury and insisted on taking a photo.

So I gamely posed for the photo and then limped my way back up the switchbacks toward the finish.  Every time a runner on the outbound congratulated me on being so near the finish or asked me if I was okay, I could feel the hot prickle behind my eyes and I repeated one of several phrases I'd mastered without a quaver in my voice.  "I'm okay."  "Doing fine."  "I'm good..", and then I kept moving.  I exited out of the trees into an area just above the finish chute because a quick limp through the finish would be accompanied by a name announcement and there was no way in hell that I felt like so publicly quitting.  Ugh, it was just so frustrating and disappointing and I constantly felt the need to re-explain to people I encountered that if I'd only scraped my knee I would have continued running, but between the swelling in my knee and my battered foot it just wasn't on.   I've done this race for the past two years and will likely go for it again next year, but right now I just feel really conflicted about the experience.

Part two of my half marathon weekend was equally bizarre (woke up early but still arrived after the start of the race, it rained the whole time, I had to run hard to catch up with my pace group after a bathroom break, and without a cell phone I couldn't find my boyfriend post race), but I finished AND I finished my first half in my VFFs.    And I got a cool hat as well.

Back to life...

I have a double half marathon/aerial silks sandwich planned for the weekend. What's on your menu?

Planning and running and inverting...

...that's what I've been doing since I last posted. I'm planning a double half marathon weekend in September because I couldn't find a Fall marathon that I wanted to commit to and I have an aerial show the weekend after so my life consists of (very little) sleep, aerial, lifting, running and doing it all over again often. I'm not complaining at all because my time could be full of far worse things. I'd like to have more time to write though, but that's more of a resolve/time management issue than anything else. Sporadic updates when I have silks breakthroughs or a particularly good run--I think that's all I can promise myself for now.

Hanging around

It was a hot day in the tent and foot locks were particularly challenging, but it was nice to have such a small class and be able to rotate between silks so often.

Running away to join the circus

Yes, I got willingly kidnapped by some circus folks and I'm completely unharmed, but not unaffected. Aerial arts have captured my imagination and I want to try a little of everything! I haven't braved the trapeze yet as I'm still working on my getting over my fear of scaling that shaky ladder, but I just attended my second lyra class at TSNY yesterday and I can see myself loving that too. My lyra instructor, a young college student who grew up studying circus arts, caught my attention yesterday with a simple phrase that she probably didn't even realize was important. She said, essentially that aerial arts were a pivotal growth tool for her because one might be awkward on the ground, but one need not be awkward in the air. I totally get that and it resonates with me on so many levels (Hi, remember me? I'm the lady who steps in cheese and trips on her own shadow ;). Silks can be frustrating and challenging, but I keep returning because its beautiful and the process is teaching that I know such a small amount about the universe and I'm okay with that as long as I remain open to learning and evolving.

I may be occasionally awkward in the air right now, but I'm enjoying defying gravity.

I stepped in cheese.

Yes, I have been gone for a long time, but no that is not a euphemism. On Sunday I stepped in cheese. Real, full dairy, animal fatty, melty and sweating on a black topped parking lot in the sun cheese. I think it was pepper jack. If I'd allowed them to lick my shoes as they kept trying to do, my dogs might be able to confirm this, but I'll get to that in a second.

Before the assault by dairy, KJ and I made a plan to enjoy a rare sunny and warm March day. I busted out a short sleeved t-shirt, post-Goth cargo pants (seriously, they have a lace waistband and flared legs. I bought them at Hot Topic and yes, I fully appreciate the irony) and put on my favorite pair of Onitsuka Tigers. KJ and I walked around Old Town, enjoyed a Belgian breakfast and then spent the afternoon hooping in the park. We smiled at dogs, visited a candy store and strolled around town commenting on gardens and architectural elements. *sigh* It was bliss. And then that damned piece of cheese ruined my day, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Before heading home we stopped at a grocery store to pick up cold meds for KJ (despite the weather, it is still Winter)and a few other items we needed around the house. As we walked back to the car we laughed about the kooky Girl Scouts squealing and hawking calories outside the store and KJ referenced a Chris Kattan joke from some really bad Lorne Michaels feature film (something about CK dressed in a Scout uniform and offering COOK-AYS!). Goofballs on the loose...we almost made a clean getaway, but as I approached the back door of the car to place our purchases on the back seat I felt a squish. Initially I thought it was a wet paper towel dampened by the piles of still melting snow, but when I tried to shake it off, it wouldn't go away. "Must be gum," I thought. Gross, but fairly easy to remove with an ice cube. But the texture was wrong. It squished not so much like wet paper or gum, but more like...dog poop. I lifted my foot and there, caught between the rubbery blue and lime green spikes of my retro climbing shoes were the remains of a partially melted and fully rubberized piece of white cheese.

*Hurk*

Seriously. The older I get, the more certain things (the smell of seafood, paper litter on a running trail, melted cheese on my shoe) activate my gag reflex.

I wiped my shoe on the pavement but the offending dairy product continued to cling to my kicks and further embed itself amongst the treads.

"Wipe it off on the ice over there," KJ thoughtfully suggested in between stiffled guffaws. It *was* funny--hell, I was laughing too if only at the sheer ridiculous grossness of stepping in someone's discarded cheese but it really was so so disgusting. Nope, icing it didn't help.AT.ALL.

So I drove us home, careful not to touch anything in my car with the cheese shoe. I could only imagine the way rotting bits of cheese might smell hidden amongst the floor mats on a 90 plus degree Summer day. *shudder*

Safely at home I kicked off my shoe on the front porch, limped around in my one cheeseless shoe, greeting the dogs and gathering supplies to clean my footwear.

Outside all three of the girls were jockeying for space to sniff and get close enough to taste the amazingness that was the cheese shoe. KJ thought it hilarious to allow them to get close enough to attempt a lick and then call them off. Yep. Ha ha . Three bowls of soapy water, one old sponge and five paper towels later my shoe was clean enough to bring into the house. I tried lining it up in the shoe tray by the door to dry but there must have been tiny cheese molecules left in my shoe tread because the girls continued to try to nose my shoe upside down in order to claim their prize (really, what self-respecting dog wouldn't enjoy a little shoe with cheese topping?). Cleaning FAIL. Right now the shoe is drying in the hall closet away from canine noses--drying just enough so I can throw it into the wash and hopefully forget this ever happened.