Big Sur. Done.

I'm not going to sugar-coat it. That was tough. I'm hurting more than I can convey at this time. Finished in 3:41. Not bad. Details later.

Big Sur, Here I Come

I've been carb-loading for days. My race bib is in my hands. The marathon is set to begin at 6:45 tomorrow morning, and the gun will be going off before I know it. After weeks of preparation, it all comes down to this. I'd like to say that I'm confident, that my training has been enough. But after driving the course today, I'm not so sure. This could be the longest 26 miles ever...

My Great (Running) Experiment

This whole thing started out as an experiment of sorts. It had been ages since I had trained for or run a full marathon, and the memories of my last one weren't exactly pleasant. (A lost toenail, nearly debilitating plantar faciatis, and severe stress fractures do NOT make for good times.) But I'm determined to do a full Ironman next summer, so I had to see if my body could handle the distance. All it took was a few clicks of the mouse, a credit card number, and a smidgen of training, and here I am, about to run the Big Sur Marathon.

I'm not going to lie, I was nervous about upping my mileage as my training progressed. Every tweak, every twinge sent my mind racing with doubts and worries about possible injuries. I was scared that my body wouldn't cooperate; that it could retaliate if I ran too far. I feared it would stubbornly refuse to comply with the miles I needed to log. Because, let's face it, if I couldn't do this, an Ironman would be out of the question.

But something remarkable has happened as I've pushed through my training. Instead of feeling beat down and broken, I've become stronger, more confident. There are no signs of that limping, pained girl who struggled through the Chicago Marathon several years ago. I don't know if this a result of experience, cross-training, or that my body finally gave up the fight and realized resistance was futile. Truthfully, regardless of the reason, I'm just grateful to discover I CAN do this.

It's hard to believe the race is already this coming Sunday. The anticipation has me in a tizzy. I'm torn between nervousness and excitement. I know there's nothing more I can do; I've put in the time, now I must wait and see what happens on race day. I'm trying to put it all out of my mind for now, as I still have a couple of nights of work ahead and much to do before I will even lay eyes on the starting line. So, now is the time for me to sit back, carbo-load, and allow my muscles to recover. Sunday morning will come soon enough, and I will be ready to give it my all when the gun goes off.

Rainy Days and Hoarding

It was another one of those weekends - grey and nasty, with an undeniable chill in the air. The weather wasn't nearly as tumultuous as last weekend's, but I don't think I saw the sun break through the thick cloud cover even once. Ugh. Once upon a time, growing up in Michigan, I was accustomed to dreary weekends like this. But I've become spoiled living here in SoCal, and have come to set incredibly high standards for my weekend forecast. I expect nothing less than endless sunshine and warm breezes. After all, what's the point of living on the beach if it's too cruddy to take advantage? I want to bask in warmth of the sun and play never-ending games of bocce. Rain does not factor into my plans, so this recent turn of inclement weather is becoming quite depressing, especially considering our days in Newport are becoming numbered.

The only positive aspect to such uninspiring weather (besides fostering more baking) is that it gives us an excuse to cuddle up on the couch, watch old movies, and spend some uninterrupted, lazy time together. With Mouse now gone during the week, our weekends have taken on new meaning. It's the only time we're able to spend together, so we hoard every moment like a junkie does his last stash. Only, our drug is each other, so we do our best to get our fill in the mere 72 hours we're able to share.

In our case, absence really has made the heart grow fonder. (Not that we were un-fond of each other to begin with.) Come Friday, we're beyond excited to reunite. You can hear it in our voices as he calls with traffic updates. Without fail, he always bursts through the door, grinning from ear to ear. Sappy, right? How can I help but allow my heart to melt? This is the stuff chick-flicks are made of, and I eat it up.

So, I guess I can't be too upset with Mother Nature for forcing us indoors. If I had to be stuck inside, I want it to be with Mouse, limbs tangled up in each other, sipping on red wine. It may not have been the weekend we had originally planned, but it definitely sufficed.

If it's Going to Rain, I Might As Well Make Cookies

Last Friday was one of those rare inclement days here in SoCal. The storm clouds rolled in during the wee hours of the morning and didn't release their hold until late that night. The winds howled ferociously. The rain came down in buckets. It's as if this storm had something to prove; like it felt it needed to punish us for our usual mild climate, unleashing its full fury as a reminder that even we cannot escape Mother Nature's brute force. The streets of the peninsula flooded. We all retreated into our homes for safety.

As much as I loathe such tumultuous weather, I have to admit there is something to be said about the occasional rainy day. It provided a great reason for me to curl up on the couch and sleep off my night shift exhaustion. It even excused me from feeling guilty about skipping my run. (After all, there is no sense in running in a deluge.)  And when I finally pulled my tired arse off the couch, I had the uncontrollable urge to be domestic. So, I threw some chicken in the Crock-pot for comfort-food bliss and set to baking cookies.

I guess I could have opted for something more traditional, maybe one of my usual go-tos, but thanks to Pinterest (the most addictive site since FB), I had come across a recipe earlier in the week for Raspberry Coconut Macaroons via Things We Make (which she nabbed from Smitten Kitchen). It was one of those recipes that I just HAD to try, and was grateful for the excuse to do so. They were incredibly easy to assemble and bake, and turned out delightfully moist and sweet.  I tweaked the recipe a little by adding vanilla, in addition to the already-called-for almond extract, and drizzling semi-sweet chocolate on top.  YUM! They were truly the perfect rainy day treat.

To view the original recipe, please go to Smitten Kitchen.

Good Things Come to Those Who Explore

Saturday could have been a total bust. In fact, it almost was. We wandered aimlessly for two hours, in the high dessert north of Las Vegas. It didn't matter that it was a beautiful day; we weren't out there to take in the sights. We had a purpose to our wandering. We were cave hunting. But, with the lack of proper approach directions and sheer amount of space we had to cover, our search wasn't going so well. Finding this elusive Pinnacle Cave was turning out to be no better than hunting for a needle in a haystack. We almost gave up. We had thoroughly scoured the mountainside with no luck, and the afternoon was fading fast.  Evening was quickly approaching, and our chances of finding this hole in the ground were waning. We were at our wits end, and knew it was nearing time to call it quits. We made one final sweep. And then... success.

Thanks to our late-day discovery, we knew we didn't have much time, so we didn't waste a moment.  We donned our harnesses, set up our ropes, and rappelled more than sixty feet into the bowels of the earth.  This brought us into a large chamber, from which we descended even further into the blackness.  The complete darkness and stillness that welcomed us was almost stifling.  It stood in such contrast to the world above.  If not for our headlamps, we wouldn't have been able to see a few feet in front of us.

Our next challenge was to squeeze our bodies through a hole so tight we gave it the moniker of "the birth canal".  As I watched the feet of my caving buddies disappear into the rock, I couldn't help but wonder what we were getting ourselves into.  They made it through safely into the next chamber, as did I, but this is where our journey to the center of the earth would end.  We found several other promising tunnels, but knew we didn't have time for further exploration.  Instead, we made our way back to the main chamber, ascended the sixty feet back up the rope (Which is no easy feat, I might add.), and found ourselves rejoined with the surface world.

We lucked out.  The day had gone from a near-bust to total success.  This is what I love about my trips to Las Vegas.  I never know what adventure will unfold.  And this adventure was totally worth the effort...