While I have very little fashion sense, I do have a lot of opinions about running gear and I’m excited to say that I have a little “fashion book” of my own.

“Born to Run” by Christopher McDougall is about ultra-running (50 miles+ at a time), and cultures that run for transportation (and the handful of crazy Americans who have adopted it as a lifestyle). It’s nonfiction (McDougall is a journalist and amateur runner), and it’s the best book I’ve ever read about running, ever. I usually find most nonfiction kind of dry and boring, but not this.  Even when it gets deep into an anatomical discussion about why we stand on two legs instead of four, it captivated me.

And even more than that, it motivated me.  It made me want to drop everything and run for as long as I possibly could.

But that’s not what this post is about.

One of the American runners in the book, a man warmly referred to as “Barefoot Ted,” runs only barefoot (thus the nickname).  It’s a discussion of his methods that leads the author into detailing a lot of University studies about human anatomy regarding runners, and why cushioned Nike soles are the ones responsible for most of our injuries. Some studies even claimed that running in no shoes (or minimalist-soled shoes) have been known to ease symptoms for those with Plantar Fasciitis (instead of supporting the arch, you need to treat it like a muscle and strengthen it). Since I’ve been diagnosed with said ailment, I immediately did some thinking.  If these kinds of shoes really did help, I’d be the happiest kid in town.  If they didn’t, how much worse off would I be? I need new shoes every year anyway. So I asked for some minimalist shoes for Christmas.

While home for the holidays, mom and I took a drive out to Fleet Feet, and I talked with a saleswoman who had me try on and test out a bunch of different options, and we came home with these:

They even came with instructions!

I was really hesitant to try them out, and as you can tell they’re not very insulated (Boston isn’t the balmiest of places in January).  So I waited for a warm-enough day and went for a jog.  I followed the directions: run slow, with short staccato steps, don’t run more than 3 miles at first, don’t run more than 20% of your weekly running in them for the first few weeks.

They feel … weird.  Without the cushion to trick me into thinking I was fine, I noticed how strongly I slamed on my heel when I got tired. I still got some very sharp, cramping pain in my arch. The next day my calves ached like I’d been walking in 4-inch heels for 3 days.  The day after, my hips were painfully stiff and sore.

I’ve since bumped it up to every other run in the new shoes, the pain in my hips is easing but still there.  I haven’t been able to run as far as I used to, because I’m still nervous about going past 3 miles.  The shooting arch pains have stopped, but the dull ache has not.

But I’ll tell you one thing.  I’m about a minute faster in the new shoes.

Rebekah was kind enough to take a photo of me before I headed out on my maiden run.

Willow, on the other hand, doesn’t think I should waste my time.

First she just walks over and makes sure I can't get at the puzzle anymore

The she goes ahead and gets comfortable

I mean, really, really comfortable

This is not an uncommon event.

BUT, if you were to word it just a little differently, if you were to instead say (like Matt will often do), “Megan, what are the top 25 most played songs on your ipod?” Then we’re in for a very different discussion.

Because the thing I do most often with my ipod is run. If I listen to my ipod all the way to work, and all the way home, one album or song will not even closely match up to the times I listen to the playlist called “RUNNING.”  Not even a little. The most listened to song on my ipod is Jay-Z and Alicia Keys, “Empire State of Mind,” which clocks in at an astounding 399.  If it had been warmer than 17 this morning (it was not), that would be at an even 400.  I start every single run to that song, which means I’ve listened to that playlist 399 times.  Since I acquired that song, anyway.

After Jay-Z comes a long string of pop-y hip-hop that motivates me: Kanye, Eminem, Katy Perry, Rihanna, Lil’ Wayne, Lincoln Park, B.o.B. … the list can go on and on. Songs get added (mostly ones I hear from Matt or in spin class), and every so often I’ll cut a song, but the theme stays the same. Loud, catchy, and upbeat, and usually some pretty terrible lyrics.

One of my favorite new additions is a song by Fort Minor, called “Remember the Name.” The lyrics start:

This is 10% luck

20% skill

15% concentrated power of will

5% pleasure

50% pain

Then it goes into this useless tirade about how rap is those percentages, and a Mr. Mike Shinoda is this god of rap or whatever. And sorry, the video is really bad.

I’m almost positive that rap isn’t any of those things (especially not that 50% pain part), but I really like to think that running is just about like that. A weird mix of luck and skill and will and pleasure and pain.  A weird mix that no one except other runners seem to understand (mainly that 50% pain part).  I love it when this song comes on as I start to run up a hill. It really gets me going.

FYI (I know you care), if I sort by most plays, the first song NOT on the RUNNING playlist comes in at #24, John Mayer’s “Dreaming with a Broken Heart” with 87 plays. That song and I (and album Continuum, I suppose) had a very special relationship about 3 years ago.  If I take Continuum out of the equation, it’s not until 45 plays that you get to my favorite Beatles song – a song I might call my favorite song ever, “Blackbird.”

ps, if you want my playlist I’m totally willing to share.

But that’s not what this story is about.

Back when I was starting the infusing process, I took the liquor bottle out of the bag, left the bag on my bed, and went into the kitchen to get to work.  When I came back to my room, Willow was on my bed, trying to get herself into the paper bag.  A paper bag the size of a 750ml bottle of Dewars.

I thought it was adorable and funny, so I plopped on the bed and pulled out my video camera, just as Joyce decided to join the party.

This is what happened:

However, a few weeks before Christmas, he went above and beyond the call of “being a good boyfriend,” and I want to make sure he gets credit where it’s due.  Also, the week after the event he asked, “are you going to blog about this weekend?” and I kind of got the feeling he was hoping I’d sing his praises in public.

So tra-la-laaaaaaa, here I go:

Everyone has a crazy family member or two lurking in the high brittle branches of their family tree.  I happen to have an Aunt Kris (my dad’s youngest sister) and her husband, Crazy Uncle Mike. When I was a kid they lived for the most part in West Orange, NJ, but about 6 or 8 years ago they relocated to LA after coming into a lot of money from Crazy Unlce Mike’s family.  We don’t get to see them much, and for the family’s sanity, I think that’s actually a really good thing (for both sides).

A few weeks before Christmas, we got the word that they would be on the east coast in Albany for a few days, to visit Grandma. Albany is about ½ way between Boston and where my parents live in Syracuse, (2.5 hrs in the car, give or take).  Since Grandma lives in an assisted living complex and spending the night in Albany gets expensive, it was decided that the plan would be to drive to Albany just for the day, see Aunt Kris, Crazy Uncle Mike, and of course Grandma for a few hours, and then drive home.

Mom, Dad and Kevin, all living in Syracuse, would have the luxury of driving together.  But me, all alone family-wise out here in Boston would have to make the drive myself.  Instead of doing that, I calmly and sweetly conned Matt into coming with me.

Now, I love my family very much, but when it comes to plans …. let’s just say they’re not the best as being proactive. To give you a hint, on the way there I had to call my mom and ask where we were supposed to meet: Grandma’s place or the restaurant (which I’d never been to) for lunch or something completely different. Even when we were only about 10 minutes from our “destination” she said, “we’ll call you back when we know.” Thankfully, I had someone in the passenger seat able to adjust the GPS when we finally got an answer.

At lunch, Matt was his wonderful charming self, and showed no signs of how early I’d made him get up or how aggravated I’d been in the car when no one would give me a straight answer. When Crazy Uncle Mike made my brother get up and move so that he could sit down next to Matt and grill him, he didn’t even flinch. Instead he chatted up Crazy Uncle Mike about living in LA, his job, and whatever else he could think of.

Later that day, we piled into cars and drove to down town Albany for “Tuba Christmas,” which was not nearly as exciting as one would hope.  It was an idea that Aunt Kris had that we all just went along with, and while it was an … experience, it was certainly not something I’d want to drag my whole family to.

It was as depressing a scene as it looks, I promise

And yet, Matt sat next to my mom and chatted with her, laughed at her jokes about how bad it was, and never once lost his smile.

As we drove back to Boston that night, I apologized every 45 seconds or so for how awful the whole day had been.  But not once did he agree with me.  Not once did he say, “I can’t believe you made me come to this with you.” Not once did he even allow that it was a less than stellar day.

What he did say was:

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I got to spend the whole day with you.  It was wonderful.”

If I have interesting things to share, I’m too busy actually doing said things and don’t have time to write.  If I have time to write, I most likely don’t have anything going on, therefore nothing to write about.

It’s a stretch, but it seems still to be very true.

Anyway, I had a wonderful long break with my family over Christmas, and I got a lot of great running gear for the holidays including (but not limited to) all kinds of cold-weather gear and a new heart rate monitor watch.  Christmas morning we held the 2^nd Annual Garvey-Family Christmas Morning Run:

Mom was kind enough to take our photo before we set out into the ICE cold (about 22F I believe) Baldwinsville morning.

I managed to beat my dad at this one, but only by default.  He has been having some cramping issues in his calf, and was unable to finish the race.  I was ahead of him when he decided the pain was worth stopping for, though, so I’m counting it as a win.  He claims, now, that a little stretching before he runs helps the pain a lot.  Had I known that he (a 60 yr. old veteran marathon runner) never stretched before anything, I would have mentioned that it might help.

In between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, I had to bring Willow on an emergency trip to the vet.  She’s totally fine, don’t worry, but I’ve actually put her on anti-anxiety medication.  For those of you who know my cat personally, this makes all the sense in the world.  So far, so good.  It helps her cough (the Vet said it was anxiety-induced asthma), and she’s even getting more social!

Matt and I (and a bunch of our friends) also spent a wonderful New Year’s Eve together.  Usually NYE ends up being rather lame and a huge disappointment, and finally this year it was perfect and enjoyable.

Perhaps the best thing about the Holiday season is that for Christmas, Matt bought me a 1-year membership to Community Rowing, the rowing club here in Boston that I’ve been thinking about joining for about 3 years.  I cannot wait to get out on the Charles and meet some wonderful rowers.

As for New Year’s Resolutions, I don’t typically make them, other than “be a better person.”  However, this year I have a few in mind:

1. Run Faster
2. ROW
3. Stop getting so much damn take out and actually start cooking
4. Blog more consistently

How about you guys? Any resolutions?

Oops.

Because now it’s a race.  An all-out competition. A brawl, if you will.

Every year my brother tries to persuade us into running the 10k, but my dad and I always reject the option. This year, because of the distance racing I’d been doing, I was in agreement with my brother.  My dad was overruled, and we signed up for the 10k.

In what would be an unrelated story, in the early fall, as a family we have a traditional apple pie-baking contest. Growing up in Central New York, for our family picking apples is an anticipated fall-time tradition.  By the time the season comes around, like many people we tend to get overzealous in our apple-picking adventures and end up with significantly more apples than we as a four-person family can possible consume in a manageable amount of time.  So when my brother and I were teenagers, we started making pies.  It very quickly became a pie-baking contest (you may have noticed, we tend to get competitive).

The news of such a contest spread, and over the years the participant pool just runs wider and wider: extended family, close friends, or really anyone willing to offer up a pie and face the ridicule if it’s awful.  We usually hold the contest in early October when apples are fresh, but this year scheduling became a difficult matter.  When it was said and done, we had no choice but to hold the competition on Thanksgiving night, and hope that voters still had room to try all the pie.

All that said, Thanksgiving Day was officially packed with a double whammy of competition.

Because I come from a family of assholes, the trash talking started in early November (let’s be honest, I think it was more like mid-October).  Zings and slams about running talent and crust-rolling-ability when flying in all kinds of directions.  And no one was spared, not even my saint of a mother, who normally puts up with all our childish crap with a smile and a hug.

Morning came, and my brother won the 10K in 50:47.  Dad surprised us all (even himself, I think) by taking second with 55:01.  Although it wasn’t a personal best, I was pleased (albeit disappointed) in my last place spot with 57:55.

As the loser, I agreed to do the drive to my cousin’s house (about 1.5 hrs away) for the dinner and pie voting.  The whole way, my dad taunted me about my impending doom of losing twice in one day.

I think my dad was lashing out to cover for his anxiety, to be honest.  This year, I was armed with a secret weapon: toffee bits.  The way I make pie involves an apple crisp top crust, instead of the traditional pastry.  At the suggestion of a coworker, along with oats, brown sugar and butter, I mixed in some toffee bits to the crumble topping. I had made some experimental pies earlier in the month, and the result was overwhelming: the pie was fantastic.

And internet, you know what?

I WON.

Mom came in second, followed by Kevin. Dad didn’t even place.

It was a pretty good day, even if I lost once.

I know it’s been over a month, I’m so sorry Internet!  It seems like every time I sat down to write a post, I was distracted by something that deemed itself “more important.”  I know that’s not much of an excuse, but it’s all I’ve got.

Anywhooooo.

Back on Halloween, Matt had his traditional large party, and everyone would be there. I had agreed to leave for a few hours with Jessie and her boyfriend to go watch a friend’s band play at The Middle East (downstairs) in Central Square. The weather decided not to cooperate (the only snow we’ve had so far this year, by the way), but not swayed from our plans, Jessie and I clomped around the slush and snow in Central Square in 3-inch heels and short skirts.  Maybe you don’t have a lot of brick sidewalks where you live, so FYI, they get very slippery when wet.

After the show (which was great, btw — they’re a pretty traditional rock band and ended the show with a creatively awesome cover of Thriller) we made our way back to Matt’s (with the thankful aid of Noah for balance).  By then, the party was in full swing, and the living room-turned dance floor was hopping.  We took some group shots and danced the night away.

From the left, myself (Ms. Scarlet), Jessie (Yvette the maid), Noah (Prof. Plum), Josh (Mr. Green) and Sarah (A young, hot Mrs. Peacock)

As the party started to dwindle, I decided to start sobering up.  Only one glass of water was needed before I realized how much my feet hurt, still in those heels.  Although the shoes were really a great part of my outfit, I decided it was time to put on the backup flats I brought.

A few minutes later, I ran into Matt, who was looking like he needed a glass of water himself.  The bathroom near his room had a long line of anxious waiters, so I went upstairs to the kitchen.  I filled a clean solo cup with water and headed back down, only to slip (IN THE FLATS) on the staircase.  I fell down pretty hard, and thankfully a friend of Matt’s (dressed as Batman, no less) was only a few steps ahead and managed to catch me before I got too far.

I laughed, got up, rubbed my ass and went on with the party.  I almost forgot about it until I got a look in the daylight the next morning:

Yep, that's my (blurry) ass (i took the photo myself. If you'd believe it, it got worse before it got better.

The most annoying this about it is that it STILL hurts, especially when I run.  The more it jiggles, the more it hurts.  And as you can maybe tell, my ass is of the sort that jiggles often.

In the meantime, Google Reader (my favorite RSS feed ever) has made some changes, things they’re calling “improvements.”  There are a lot of visual changes that are just fine, I have already gotten used to them.

But. BUT.

They took away the “share” function, and instead to share an item  you came across, you must use Google+.  Google+ is fine as a social network, if you ask me, but I just don’t need another one.  I can barely handle remembering to Tweet, I spend too much time looking at things I don’t care about on facebook. I don’t want yet another useless time-suck.

As a result, I’m going to share some things I find on the internet (or things my friends find and send me) here, when they pertain to my focus.  Today, in her tumblr, my roommate Rebekah re-blogged this image with the caption, “Megan, this is for you!”

Just change "practice" to "any kind of exercise at all."

(via)

It’s so funny how true this is.  In Yoga, the final relaxation pose (Savasana) requests that you shut your mind off entirely.  Me? I lay there looking innocent, but thinking, “What kind of sushi am I going to get at Shaw’s tonight? Do we need bananas? Maybe I’ll get ice cream too.”  When I’m running my motivation is, “just get up this hill and get home as fast as you can. Home has bagels and coffee and eggs and cereal.  Get home faster, eat sooner!”

For all intents and purposes, I am completely back on “the wagon.”  In the saddle.  Whatever. But let me tell you something.

IT HURTS.

A LOT.

I didn’t consider that my body would need some adjustment time, and that I should get back into things slowly; I just launched right in. So last Monday began with a nice 3-mile run, and ended with spin class after work.  Tuesday was a scheduled day-off from running, and I went to yoga.  By the time I got up for Wednesday morning’s run, I was achy all over.  I ran the 4 miles I set out to, but it was by far my slowest time running that route ever.

It has been slow going, but I’m getting back to “normal.” On Saturday morning as I left I told Jessie, “I’m going to attempt 5 miles, which means I’ll be back in about 3 days.” Lucky me, it only took about 48 minutes.

This week has been progressively better.  I’ve been able to shave a few seconds of last week’s times, and I’m feeling stronger. Better.  Faster.

In other news, all kinds of wonderful things have been happening in my social life.  A few of the highlights:

Last weekend some friends hit up the Somerville Local First Harvest Festival, where we ate and drank to our heart’s content.

This one was taken by the professional photographer at the Festival

The recreational softball team I play on will be playing in the championship game next weekend (it’s late in the season for softball, I know.  I play in the BSSC “Frostbite” League). The summer team I play on for work loses a lot, so it’s nice to win a few.

I got the formal invite to one of my best friend’s wedding; I got a call asking me to be a bridesmaid in another. I am super excited for both of these things to happen, which, considering my usual opinion on weddings, is a very nice change.

Halloween, one of my favorite holidays, is this weekend, and Matt is once again hosting his famously crazy party.  I’m super excited about his costume, and also the group costume I’m participating in. Photos will follow, I promise.