So far I’m really digging this little Tuesday.
It feels like fall. The weather in NYC is pretty much perfect.
In fact, it’s perfect running weather.
It seems fitting, then, that today I went for a run.
How much did I love this run?
The distance and speed, who cares about those things? Oh right, I usually do. But not today. Today was just about getting back on my feet after a little rest-recharge-do-some-yoga-and-ride-a-bike break. I ended up taking a total of six days off running, and it felt oh so right.
Truthfully, I was nervous about getting back out there today. I wanted to feel good, I didn’t want my foot to hurt and I didn’t want to Crohn’s my pants. That would suck. All of it.
But since I’m going on and on about how great this day is, I think it’s safe to give you the spoiler now: The run was good.
I ran 6.25 miles, and I wanted to run 26.2. My legs were all loosened up and stuff, and even though I promised I wouldn’t care about my pace, I was pretty excited that I settled comfortably into a pace I was pleased with.
My friend Gian-Who-Basically-Coaches-Meb-And-Teaches-Him-How-To-Go-To-The-Olympics gave me a lecture the other day. I had gone for a “recovery run” (my favorite kind, these days) and I sent him my splits.
Gian was pissed! He was like, “Ali, why are you sending me this shit? Me and my BFF Meb are not here to analyze your recovery run splits. You don’t look at your pace during recovery runs. You’re so stupid. Meb is mad. J/K he’s not mad anymore, he says what up. Oh, now Meb has to go. In the time he spent looking at your Garmin data, he could have run a half marathon, since that only takes him 11 minutes.”
At least that’s basically what happened.
But it was a good lesson. I usually keep an eye on my watch regardless of what type of run I’m doing, but recently I’ve learned to not do that quite so much. Slow run days are for running slowly. Some days “slow” is 9-minute miles. Other days “slow” will be 10:30 miles. It’s all personal and relative and my point is that I’m no longer such a slave to my watch. That’s a good thing.
I stuck to the Bridle Path and Reservoir today, and my stomach was not super psyched. It appears as though my insides far prefer biking over running. It’s gentler, you know? So I did have to make one bathroom stop early on. Whatever. I don’t care.
Sorry, stomach. Get used to it: It’s run time. (Not to be confused with “Gu time,” a joke which two people actually claimed to find funny yesterday. Thanks for the ego boost, you bunch of crazies.)
Before I ran home, I did some incline push-ups and tricep dips on a bench so that I felt buff. I just thought you should know that. Then, at the end of my run, as I was basically skipping along East Drive, my BFF John appeared out of nowhere and ran next to me for a few minutes. That was fun.
And just like that, it’s a Good Mood Tuesday!
But but but.
I got home, “stretched” (I call it stretching when really all it is is me bending over to untie my shoes while I’m in the elevator), showered, ate some breakfast and got myself out the door fairly quickly.
I boarded the subway, magically got a seat, took out my magazine and…
Not like, fainted. That would be almost as bad as the scary Crohnsing incident I feared earlier.
I mean I opened up my magazine, attempted to read it, and then thankfully woke up a few stops before the one where I get off.
Then I realized just how sleepy I was.
As I walked to work and rocked out to “Sister Christian,” I tried to think about my recent sleep habits.
This just in: They suck.
Yeah, apparently I don’t sleep “the recommended amount.”
For a long time, I could function on five hours a night, no problem.
Now, I’m getting six hours most nights, and I don’t think that’s quite cutting it.
A few weeks ago, I got into one of my “Goals Goals Goals” (not “Bills Bills Bills,” I’m no Destiny’s Child) mindsets and wrote down a few things I wanted to improve in my life. They were the usual things: eat better, do planks every day, foam roll, stretch, be smart, don’t be stupid.
I’d say I’m mostly failing at a lot of those things (what is a plank?), but I’ll work on them.
And in the meantime, I’m adding another goal to my lofty list: Sleep more.
I don’t know how people get 7–8 hours of sleep each night.
Last night, I was up doing really important things, like making gourmet food…
…and being an artist.
Eventually Brian came home, I “made him dinner” (let him have my leftover sprouts and washed some grapes), we watched the Olympic swimming and track trials coverage, and then eventually went to bed. I had trouble falling asleep for the first time in a while, and I woke up a lot throughout the night.
I can’t sleep well because I’m itchy. Whenever I go to New Hampshire, I get attacked by bugs, and I get these quarter-sized bug bites all over my body. It is both uncomfortable and extremely sexy.
I try to avoid the bugs…
…but they always find me.
I was up itching and scratching my ankles most of the night, and now I’m tired, but more importantly, I need to go to bed earlier since my wake-up time isn’t going to change.
This is the last time you’ll hear me say “I’m tired.” No one cares, remember?
Do you want to see another picture of Tyler? Oh, OK. Here:
- I want to establish good sleep habits so I’m all rested during marathon training.
- Tyler is still cute.
- I should probably get a book deal for being a good food blogger. My recipes will include “scrambled eggs with vegetables” and “tap water.”
CAN YOU HELP ME? How much sleep do you get every night? Is it enough? And how do you get to bed at a reasonable hour? Basically I want you to give me a detailed outline of your sleep habits. Thanks.