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I don’t post very often about running stuff/times because, much like the dream you had last night, no one really cares and it’s all relative. I don’t mean to be a jerk, but seeing some chick constantly post her slow-ass 10:45/mi nike+ run times to facebook all proud of herself is really obnoxious to me. So I’m very wary of posting about my own exploits even after 15 years of serious running because, well, someone’s always faster and working harder. I digress…

I’ve been chipping away at a specific time barrier for the 10k since something like 2009. Whenever I’ve gotten in a training groove and started getting close to breaking it, I’d switch jobs…or get injured…or work would get crazy…or I’d get insomnia. This time, I had been getting close in January, and I got the first cold I’ve had in 7 or 8 years and derailed once again.

For the past month, I’ve been on track, and while I’ve been setting PRs at least once every other week, creeping forward, it was always just 10 to 15 seconds faster…still a good 45 seconds to a minute off the goal. Do you know how IMPOSSIBLE it is to up your average pace for 6.2 miles to shave off that much time? Holy fuck. So, I’ve just been plodding forward, timing once a week and staying consistant. But on Friday, I KNEW I was close when I came up on the finish. Final results: 18 seconds off the goal. (AAAarrrgh)

Today was do or die. I don’t normally time runs this close together, but I had to try again. I knew I ran the first leg too fast and felt my pace drop hard in mile 5 and 6. I came into the last 100m outright gasping for air and almost flailing…crossed the finish…held my breath… …

SHATTERED. I beat the goal by a minute and 15 seconds. I may have also set a vertical leap record right there, jumping into the air and screaming “FUCK YES&%#@!” at the top of my lungs. I then airplaned down the path and back into my neighborhood.

I now feel like hell. But damn it was worth it.


Basil Harvest

Michelle and Kate harvesting basil way too early in the morning, two Fridays ago.

I feel like we can already call this mid-summer with how hot it’s been. My apologies, the season is marching on and I have been remiss in my farm blogging duties.

We’re now into what I’d call the beginning of The Real Season. We’re beginning to take squash, peas, and the first of the tomatoes to market, and our trucks don’t just look like big packs of greens on wheels anymore, which is a nice change of pace. Our roadside stand opens full-time this Friday, and as its manager this year, well…shizz is about to get real for me I think. I have to say, I’m looking forward to the half-day shifts in the stand as a nice break for my bones and a way to enjoy the fruits/veggies of our labor while meeting some of our local customer base. It’s nice to remember why you’re doing this in the first place…feeding the people!

I’m starting to feel like I almost know what I’m doing most of the time. I can identify plants and tools, have an idea of seasons within the season and what grows when, how to identify pest damage, how long things should take to accomplish, etc. If I wanted to plant a garden in someone’s (small!) backyard, I feel like I now have the rudimentary knowledge to get it done. That’s pretty satisfying.

I took this full weekend off (my first in 6 weeks or so) to try and let my joints recover a bit and see my chiropractor. While I was ready for daily labor, there is definitely an aspect to this life that you can’t really wrap your head around until you’re living it. Anyone who’s trained hard in the gym for an event knows the feeling: hitting the “thickest” part of your training where you’re training 6 days a week for a brief spell, trying to capitalize on the peak of your fitness before easing up right before the event. This is what working the farm feels like almost all the time.

It’s odd, because I’m never actually sore, not the way I am after days of hard runs and weight training, but it’s more like my skeleton is sore. Like my resolve is weary and my endurance is bruised. It sneaks up on you, because you’re never moving fast on the farm…the ground is uneven, the loads are heavy, the air is thick…light and quick has no meaning there. It’s a different, more grinding tired all together. The main result? It has re-amped my love for running a hundred times over. To move, in light clothes, with no heavy gear, listening to loud music, fast and hard down a road uninterrupted for an hour is a total revelation.

That said, my kingdom for a professional massage. Reminder: my 31st birthday is August 29th. 😉 Just sayin.

Row row row your boat
Today, I’m spending the day working on my Movement, Mobility & Maintenance with Kelly Starrett at CFLA. After witnessing many friends go headlong into InjuryWorld, I’m looking to prevent a future visit myself. (Learning how to create more force with what I’ve been provided on this earthly plane won’t hurt either!)

I’ll share all my revelations later.

For the record, “maintenance” is one of the last “words I can’t spell without looking up” holdouts in my vocabulary, yet I can spell Kyrgyzstan on the first try (and evidently Firefox can’t. Interesting.) The brain is a strange machine.