It was perfect.

Silent. Crisp. Clean.

Tiny swirling snowflakes fill the air, hitting my cheeks and eyes with noticeable force as I head out into the cold. The snow quickly becomes lumpy in my YakTraks...and I hope that my gravy would not have to endure the same fate later on.

Up ahead, in the whiteness, I can see my step-father walking towards me with his three golden retrievers. The dogs drag him across the slippery road for a 'good morning!' sniff as I pass by. I touch a nose or two and smile as I push on.

I blink hard to keep the snow out of my eyes. The snow melts on my face as I warm up...my eyes water from the cold air...the i-shuffle kicks out a melancholy tune and I feel overly emotional. Is it snow or tears on my cheeks? Who can tell?

I collect myself and breathe in the winter wonderland. Deeply breathe it all in. I take careful notice of the critter tracks that cross my path, especially the deer-prints. I'm not so alone out here.

I think of all the Turkey-Trotters and wish them well. I think of friends and family that are scattered around the globe, enjoying the holiday in their own unique way. I smile, again and feel warm.

There's no rushing today...no pushing the pace. Just the feel of each foot hitting the snow, the gentleness of the impact is welcome to my knees and my stride feels confident.

It was perfect.

I had planned this past Saturday's 'long' run to have Alison-esque attributes. I was going to drop my car off at the very, very busy oil-change place and leave for my run from there. I would return a little over an hour later, pick up my car and be on my way to my other committments for the morning.

Well.

I got out the door a little late. And when I arrived at the oil-change place? Not busy. At. All. So I couldn't very well leave my car there, knowing that it would be done in ten minutes. So I waited for the car.

But of course, all of this changed my running plans and the amount of time I had to fit the run in. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

I decided to drive back home and run from there, and would be able to fit in 6.5 miles or so, based on my time available.

The run went something like this: Left foot, right foot,left foot, right foot,left foot, right foot,left foot, right foot,left knee, right foot, left-ouch-knee, right foot, left-dammit-ouch-knee, right foot.
GGgrrrrrr.

The knee was fine until about mile 5, and then the ITB started to twinge. I was thankful to finish up with the 6.5 miles and the knee felt fine the rest of the day.

Monday's 4.4 miler was strong and all systems were 'go.'

Tuesday was a pool day (1100 yards, 25 minutes).

Today, was an unplanned rest day...seems like I should run tomorrow instead, since most of the rest of the running world will be out there racing! Plus, we're supposed to get snow! And how cool will it be to run during the first snow of the season! (wow. i think i just reached uber-running-dork level there.). Besides, what better way to reflect on the things I am thankful for, than to be out there doing one of the things that means the very most to me?

Oh! And...I'm also thankful to have the RBF in my life (of course!) especially when friends like Jon send me new orange hats to abuse! Thanks Jon!!

The Running:

I've been running again! The knee has been cooperative!

Monday's run was fabulous. Great weather, great pace. Felt strong. Wednesday's run was slightly marred by wind, warm temps (and tights. forgot my shorts) and residual effects from some wine the night before. Not so quick and effortless.

This morning's run was one of eerie, but in an interesting-cool kind of way. I left the house at 5:50 a.m. and headed out in the cold darkness, suited up in my dorky reflective vest, holding a tiny flashlight in my hand (no, it didn't actually throw a beam of any kind, I was using it more like a reflective light). The moon was full, bright and glowing, lighting my way for me. And just after I turned around at the 2 mile mark, I noticed the sky getting lighter in the East. The moon and the sunrise together...made for some amazing colors and shapes and shadows. The run was over before I knew it. Great way to start the day.

The Swimming:

My friend J. has agreed to meet me every Thursday at lunchtime for swimming. Not only do I have the pleasure of hanging out with a cool woman, but I'm more motivated to actually make it to the pool since someone else is counting on me. Plus, as an extra bonus, she comes up with actual workouts for us, saving me from my aimless lane-wandering. She's even started recruiting other women to join our Swimming Chicks sessions, and L. joined us this week

Here's what we did:

Warm-up

200 Freestyle (or breast stroke!) very easy r 20 seconds
100 kick easy r 30 seconds
100 swim easy r 20 seconds
Rest 2 minutes

Workout:

2x 50s one-armed stroke (right arm down; left arm back) rest ten seconds after each 50
8 x 50s freestyle at 80% 10 seconds rest between each
100 freestyle swim down real easy

And, oh yes, I was sure I was going to drown when I was using just one arm to stroke and the wheels came off in a big way during the 8-laps at 80%. Wow. That was hard! But 1000 yards in about 30 minutes was good enough for me. I was even a little lightheaded when I climbed out of the pool!

Good times. It's coming along.

Uh. Yeah. I'm so misleading.

My stepfather and I went out for a bike ride yesterday - about 24.75 miles through a variety of small Northeastern Connecticut towns, including Scotland. One killer hill; one monster hill in the wrong gear (the big ring. what the hell is wrong with me?)...and lots of great pastoral scenery. Probably the last ride of the season where I can get away with wearing shorts. Sigh.

I took the whole past week off from running. It's been SEVEN days since my last run, people. SEVEN. DAYS. I thought it would be more difficult to restrain myself, but surprisingly, it wasn't. I just decided that being able to run later was more important than running right now.

I took the extra time in my schedule to go swimming one afternoon with my good friend J. She even had an actual workout for us to follow, which was a new concept for me, and it really made a difference. I was completely spent at the end! We plan on making it a once a week 'date.' I know I'll go if someone else is counting on me. (Note: My usual 'workout' is to swim back and forth for a while. Until I'm done.)

I'm taking the knee out for a light and easy jaunt tonight. I don't anticipate any issues. I'm ready to get this train back on track and start making plans for The Next Big Thing. Whatever that is....spring marathon....Olympic distance triathlon. Something fun. Something a little scary.

For now, gotta treat my body right.

It's true that every race is unique - even races that occur each year that should be predictable still manage to feel unique. There are factors that make each experience a new one. The weather, the competition, slight changes in the course, the snacks.

There was something different about Sunday's race.

Stepping out of my car, I looked around the parking lot at the gathering runners. I smiled and waved at Jack. I saw Charlie, the race director giving instructions to the volunteers. As I registered and took my bib, I recognized Michelle's brother-in-law standing next to me.

As I wandered back to my car, I saw Nipmuck Dave pull in to the lot, and then heard Beth call out to the 'Running Chick with the Orange Hat.'

I waved to Warren, one of my 'race-day rabbits,' as we exchanged pleasantries.

I found Michelle and John as they were suiting up for the Big Contest. And got my official race-day crown from my friend Maggie (yes, it was orange and yes, I attached it to my hat and wore it for the whole race).

And then it happened. It was official. I realized that I was part of the 'local running community.' I belonged. I was a member of something outside of cyberspace (not that I don't adore the RBF...but it's hard to run with imaginary friends *all* the time).

The race course was slightly different this year - the start line was moved about .20 of a mile away from the finish whereas last year the the two lines were closer together. And our turnaround point was a little farther up on the course. It seemed like it would work.

The course was mostly flat - slightly graded - and paved. When we got the signal to go, we were all off like we had rockets on our feet. I looked ahead and realized I could still see Charlie...and knowing that he turns in 18:00 5K's, I knew I had to slow down. I checked my watch and it looked like I was doing sub 6:00's. That's not a typo. I distinctly recall seeing that my pace was 5:53 at one point. WHOA. I had to remind myself that this was not a ONE mile race but a 5K and I needed to slow the F down. So I did. But I still think I ticked off that first mile at around a 6:40 pace.

Somewhere in Mile Two, my knee started complaining. Or rather, my ITB did.

It wasn't 'pain' but it was a serious 'hey. this doesn't feel so great.' I worked hard on my form to ease off the ITB and there's evidence of that work two days later as my left hamstring is sore. (I hope that means I was 'pulling' with my heel. The knee doesn't hurt, but I'm taking a few days off to rest it some more.)

According to the watch, Mile Two ticked by in 7:04.

It was getting harder to maintain the pace. I had the WORST heartburn (does this happen to anyone else?). My mouth was as dry as dirt. My stomach was angry.

I saw Michelle's sister-in-law snap a picture of me as I rounded the corner and headed for the finish...and heard Sharon cheering me in (she's my other 'race-day rabbit' but she wasn't racing).

I hung on to the guy in front of me, desperately trying to close the gap as much as possible. I tried my best for a final kick and managed to get to the finish line with my last split reading 6:58.

You read that right. According to my watch/speed/distance monitor, there were only three splits, not four. The distance recorded was 2.94 miles...so even though my jaw literally dropped when I saw the clock read 20:43, I quickly realized that the course was short.

The calibration is actually a little off on my monitor, so I estimate that the distance was closer to 2.91 miles which puts my pace closer to a believable 7:07 as opposed to a 6:41.

Do I feel robbed? Upset? Not at all. It was still a race and I still ran as hard as I could. I don't feel like I can count this as an official 5K PR. And I'm really OK about all of that...because I got something much more important out of the race than a PR and a medal...I got a sense of belonging, of being part of something bigger than just myself.

It would seem that World Run Day had some lessons to share with me and it didn't even happen on purpose.

(Oh! The Rundown is up - Special NYC Marathon Edition!)

First of all, the latest Rundown is UP! And I haven't even had a chance to check it out yet!

Why? Because I've been too busy doing things like running!! (OK, that's a bit of a stretch...I have seen it...but I needed a good transition).

That's right. Me. Running. I rested Sunday through Wednesday. Tonight, the knee handled 4.37 miles in 38.08 with no problems. I have no doubt that biking was a huge help in my recovery.

Not to worry...I'm not going to get all crazy and push myself and start logging crazy miles. Yet.

I mean, come on...I have a reputation to uphold! I need to be a good role model, right?

I'll run again tomorrow - nice and easy, same as today.

Then I'll rest. Then I'll race a local 5K.

And before I forget: Good luck to all our marathoners (and racers) this weekend...especially those of you tackling the NYC Marathon.

Remember, Sunday is World Run Day!

I've been feeling a little frustrated and bitter this week. All my recent 'crowing' about my running has come back to jinx me.

Less than a month ago, while I was out actually running the marathon, things started to hurt. All over. But you know, that's expected while running a marathon. Things are going to hurt. Especially near the end.

So when I finished the race and my left knee was screaming, I didn't really stress out about it too much. Rest, ice, elevation, compression, massage, stretching. I waited four days before running again...and it was fabulous. Everything felt great.

Two days later, I ran again, and the same knee hurt. In the same place. I got suspicious. Felt a whole lot like an ITB issue. Groan. But I don't get injured.

I ran six more times and it seemed fine. No problems that I can recall.

Until this weekend.

The running chicks went out for a 'long' run on Saturday and by Mile Two, my knee was starting to ache. Didn't make sense to me. Nothing was different. Same roads, same shoes, same form.

By Mile Three, I had to stop to stretch. Then again at Mile Five. Just past Mile Eight, I sent the partners on ahead while I stopped to walk. I walked a quarter mile and tried to pick it back up. Ouch. Stopped. Stretched. Walked again. Hung my head. Put my tail between my legs.

Being the stupid, stubborn, pig-headed person that I am, I decided I would run the last mile, even if that meant at a snail's pace. I did; and it hurt like heck. Thought I might even get to see my breakfast again. In the end I walked for half a mile and ran the remaining 9.5 miles in about 1:31:00.

I paid for the stupidity. Had to wear a knee brace the rest of the day...limped around...dreaded going down stairs, winced with each step. Much of the same the next day too.

And since I couldn't run and it was a perfectly beautiful, unseasonably warm, non-raining day....I just had to go for a bike ride. I was admonished by my husband for not resting my knee, but I just *had* to go. You understand, don't you?

Honestly, I'm glad that I went. Fifteen miles along a rail trail - with autumn leaves, sunshine and waterfalls in the company of my stepfather...it was a Kodak moment. Or hour and twenty minutes. Whatever. By the time we were done, my knee felt fine. Almost like it had loosened up.

Today? It feels like normal. Like nothing ever happened. I'm still going to take another day or two off, just to be safe. Maybe go swimming or get in on a spin class. If things go well on Thursday, I'll race a 5K on Sunday. Fingers crossed, people!