Massanutten Mountain Trail Race- Crew Preview

We're somewhere in upstate NY heading down to Virginia  once again- this time with My Runner's pop Ultra Dad and his half brother Kiddo.  The MMT is a 100 mile race in the mountains of VA, which My Runner attempted for the first time last year. While Ultra Dad has completed MMT before, the course has been re-routed this year keeping it fresh even for veterans.
Initially the plan was to crew with Kiddo for the first 63 miles, then if needed jump in and pace. Since my ankle has been bum, Ib obviously haven't been running, never minding training to pace.
Not being able to pace has been the biggest disappointment of this injury. It was one of my goals this year, and had I stayed innjury-free I could have acheived it.
On the bright side, I'm very much on the mend.  Mrs. Strong lent me a bracer the I canuse walking or sporting, and wearing it has helped. And because I'm stubborn, I brought my running gear.
Crewing for the two guys should be interesting. The weather is supposed to be lovely tomorrow, which is great since the majority of the drive down has been in pouring rain on crappy roads with old wind sheild wipers. I'm actually looking forward to the crewing experience again. Sorta like my Mom once desceibed working in the ER: hours of nothing interrupted by a few minutes of crazy.
Kiddo seems like a good kid, though I'm thoroughly UN-versed in the interests of thirteen-year-old boys. So far I've learned he has a love/hate relationship with his iPhone, changes the parts on his mountain bike often, and his very favoritest thing is Dunkin' Donuts White Hot Chocolate. Go figure.

A Shiny New Home

Tuesday night I got the keys to the Promised Land.

That's what I call my new apartment.  The place itself isn't any bigger- in fact, except for the second full bathroom (I know, right?) it's probably smaller.  Still, everything is in great condition, the building is nice and quiet, partking is plentiful, and crime rates are super low.  I met Maintanence Andy to go through the place and make sure everything was in order, and found out he actually lived in the same building.  He mentioned the insulation is good so he never hears his neighbors, and that most of the old people (which is about 40% of the building's population) take the good parking spots in front of the building near the elevator.

While I've been excited to get out of my crappy neighborhood, up to this point I haven't been really excited about the new space.  And no one actually LIKES moving stuff.  But standing in my new home, a cold Sam Adams in one hand and a new set of keys in the other, I felt it.

Deciding where things go is an intimidating chore for me.  My spacial memory is not great, so just because in my brain my couch would fit in a certain spot doesn't mean it will in reality.  I have a general idea of what rooms furniture will go in, but how they will be arranged?  I think I'll just have to do that on the fly.

Also, I'm pretty sure I have way too much furniture.  My current (old?) place has a pretty big floorplan (was able to fit THREE couches in the living room) whereas the new space is a little more... conservative.  Luckily, I have a HUGE storage space, and it's not even through a creepy-ass basement!*

I'm getting that "fresh start" feeling.  It's like, Ultra-Spring Cleaning.  I've purged a lot since I'd really rather not move crap I never use, and I know I'll purge even more when unpacking.  It's exciting and scary to be the only one on the lease- a place that's mine and mine only.  Ok, it's not like I OWN it, but it's my own responsibility to maintain it and pay for it.  I feel like I'm finally ready for this.

*My current building is an old Catholic school built in the late 1800's.  The foundation is stone, and in order to get to the storage rooms in the basement you must first walk through the dimply lit old offices with warped wood panel, the creepy echo-y hallway, into a room I call the "pit" since it's not unlike the pit of despair with one bare bulb lighting it, THEN into the catacombs where the storage spaces are.  I try to never go down there alone. 

Bits and Pieces

Lots of thoughts swirling around lately, and mostly unorganized.  A sampling of the bits and pieces grabbed from the tornado of my brain:

Dad's coming up this weekend.  We're meeting at a race on Sunday morning, then he's staying until Tuesday.  This'll be the first time I run with him, ever.  I'm really worried about being slow.  I know it's stupid  - he won't care, we're here to run it together, but still.  My Runner might be joining us.  I'm glad My Runner and Dad will get a chance to meet. They're very similar, which totally makes me a cliché, but what can ya do.  I love running with My Runner, and I know it will make me worry less about being slow, but there's a small part of me that wants to run just me and my dad.  I think that part's smaller than the part that wants both of them there.

I drove around ManchVegas for an hour on Wednesday checking out neighborhoods of apartments listed on craigslist.  It was ridiculously depressing how much some places were misrepresented.  Of course I only viewed the outside on these, but since I'm looking for a new neighborhood I thought that would be a good place to start.  As much as I want a place that's unique, part of a house, a few neighbors, a nice landlord, I think ultimately I won't be able to find a nice place in a nice neighborhood in my price range unless I go for apartment complex living.  Not really my first choice, but it's got the essentials that I'm looking for, and there are always openings.  The other drawback is that my current rental company operates at least half of the apartment complexes in MancheVegas.  They're probably not better or worse than other rental companies, but their tenant screening process leaves something to be desired.

Last weekend I ran the farthest I have yet - 6 miles.  I felt great, and ran an average 9:20min. mile in the Frozen Shamrock 3 mile race the next day.  This week I feel like crap.  My hip's been bothering me, my calves are cramping, and I've been having some, ah... lady issues.  I've taken some time off to rest, maybe too much time.  I've got a 4.6mi run planned with Pocket when she comes to visit on Saturday, then the race on Sun is 4 miles.  I'm still not feeling great, but it's time to get back in the saddle.  I've totally neglected my PT the last two weeks (slaps hand) and I know that's why my hip is bothering me.  The half-marathon is in 16 days; no time to rest on my weary laurels.

Speaking of the ShamRock (half)Marathon, this was today's facebook post:
Coach Jerry Frostick's tip of the week: Less is best, don't try and make up for missed mileage. Everyone has battled the worstwinter that I remember. That same determination will get you to the finish line. Feel proud of what you've done.Usethese last two weeks to heal aches and pains and visualize great things for... your big day!You all will Sham ROCK.
It's like Coach Jerry is reading my mind.  I'm not going to go crazy with miles, but I am working to get my drive, determination, and "sticktoitiveness" back on line.  (When did "sticktoitiveness" become an ok word to use?)


Pocket and I will be heading to my Alma Mater after our run on Saturday to see a show produced by the theatre department from which I graduated.  It hasn't been terribly long since I attended, and most of my profs are still working there.  I've always been proud of my education.  While the name and the department doesn't necessarily have a huge reputation, I felt the professors and program were all well-rounded and encouraged exploration of talents and strengths.  I really hope it's a good show.


Mom recently "guilted" me that I've been dating My Runner for over six months now and she barely knows him.  She's right, it's weird.  I have a very close relationship with my family, so the fact that I'm so happy and they don't know him IS totally strange.  So we're having dinner on Wednesday, hosted by Face and Mop.  I'm super psyched.  Getting the chance to meet some of his family over Easter.  Excited, but oddly not really nervous.  I mean, I hope they like me, and there is a certain amount of strain making small talk with a room full of strangers, but I'm just happy to get to see a little more of where My Runner comes from.


I know I'm "of that age," but EVERYONE is getting married this year.  Three friends, two family members.  Five weddings.  Don't get me wrong, I actually really like weddings.  Celebrating love, eating, dancing, drinking, wearing pretty clothes, all things I truly enjoy.  And, luckily, there's not a single union that I'm in any way opposed to.  The only down side is that my schedule for the spring/summer/fall is now pretty full, and already there are conflicts with weddings and planned trips.  Normally I'm a "first come first serve" kind of gal when it comes to plans, but people tend to only get married once (at least, to each other), and friends and family are sort of expected to prioritize a wedding over, say, a backpacking trip.  Knowing I will have equal but different fun at either event is not helping me make a decision.

Moving On

After living in my apartment since October, 2004, I'm moving out this spring.

Why?  Well, the neighborhood has never been great.  When Smarty Pants and I were living there together, her car was broken into more than once, and mine was stolen (and eventually found in Cambridge, MA).  There's a lady that lives in the building across the alley who does not take her meds, so in the summer when all the windows are open you can hear her screaming that she's being raped.  She's not.  We called the police the first time we heard her and they confirmed that she's skitzophrenic and often forgets to medicate.  The side street is littered with dog poop and trash.  I've heard children being verbally and physically abused on our streets.  I've witnessed the same children being completely ignored by their parents as they play outside at 11pm.  As I've watched those kids grow up, I see that they are becoming as cruel and stupid as the adults around them.

In my building are at least two questionable men, whom I've named Sketch (Sr.) and Junior Sketch.  Sketch Sr. moved in about 2 years ago, wears a lot of black and camo, sunglasses at night, and used to stand around on the front corner a lot.  A LOT.  Looking, well, sketchy.  I tried to mitigate his sketchiness by saying "Hi," ala Ned Flanders to no avail.  Junior Sketch just moved in to the apartment in the lobby, where he is constantly peeking out the door, and also waiting on the corner in front of the building.  When I pull my car up, he moves to try to get in.  Now, why would you try to get in to a stranger's car?  Unless my car says TAXI on it (which it doesn't), my guess is drugs, prostitution, or both.  Speaking of prostitution, that happens too.  A 40-ish woman with stripper pants, a big bag, standing on the street corner at 10pm... just standing... is not normal.

Oh, and then there was the stabbity.  In October, the night before I left to visit my Dad in PA, a man stabbed another man.  The wounded man ran, fell on my car (which was parked pretty much outside my front door), bled upon it, ran up the ramp in front of the building, then down the street.  I was staying at Face and Mop's the night before, so I wasn't there for the crime, but the entire block was a crime scene when Face brought me home.  My car was swathed with police tape.  We had to get permission to enter my building, and then of course I had to make sure they were done gathering evidence (aka human blood) from my car.  The officers on the scene were laissez-faire about the whole thing, which certainly didn't help me feel more comfortable.

Why didn't I move out earlier?  Because my apartment is BEAUTIFUL.  Well, ok, the kitchen counters are a little meh.  And it needs new carpet.  But it has 12 foot ceilings in the living room and master bed room and 8 foot tall windows.  It's custom painted from when Smarty and I first moved in with warm colors.  The rent is reasonable (though not as cheap as it once was) and the heat is free.  The building is a landmark, as it's a converted Catholic School that was built in the late 1800's.  There's storage, laundry, and off-street parking.  It's 0.9 miles from my home to work.  Emotionally, this is my first home.  It's the first place I made my own; the first place I really settled.

A few pics from the place - excuse the clutter I've been bustling about the last few days:

Still, the decision to move has been made, and while it will be difficult to leave the space, it will be easy to leave the neighborhood.  Where am I going?  Well, I'm likely staying in ManchVegas.  The rents here are good.  The whole reason I'm moving is to get into a better neighborhood, so actually KNOWING the neighborhoods will help.  Ideally I'd like to be in a place with some character, something that's part of a house on a quiet block where I can put my trash and recycling out at the curb, maybe have a balcony or a bit of yard.  And I'm spoiled - I want heat to be included since I've never had to budget for it.

My lease is up April 1st.  I can stay on as a tenant at will (for an extra fee, of course) for as long as I want; I have to give 30 days notice before I vacate.  I'm looking to see if there's anything for April 1st that I'd want, but I'm happy to move May 1st too.  Part of the issue is that I'm SO freaking busy in March that I have no idea when to look for apartments.  Also, after living in a place for 5 1/2 years, there's a lot of purging and packing to do.  Finally, I have to paint everything white again, which is stupid, as it looks awesome and they could totally rent it out as-is.  But they already told me they'll charge $200/wall to paint, and I'd rather keep my $1000+, thank-you-very-much.

So, who wants to join the painting party?  Food, drink, and painting supplies provided by the lovely host, labor and music provided by you.  Anybody?  hello?