Don’t get me wrong.

I love animals.

And I love vegetables.

But I also loved — and still enjoy the occasional small piece of — bacon.

Some of my favorite memories? My oldest brother, Marc, driving me to the Lower East Side for pork-based dumplings at the famous Joe Shanghai; my middle brother, Jeff, taking the train with me to the West Village for massive burgers at The Corner Bistro–an overtly non-vegetarian hole-in-the-wall where no burger is left uneaten; my best girlfriends from high school venturing out to Corona, Queens to chow down on Argentinean steak.

In conclusion, for the bulk of my existence, I was a meat eater — an unabashed lover all of thinks cow, pig and lamb. To put the cherry on top, I absolutely hated exercise and despised basketball season (because it meant I couldn’t go home and sit on the couch), and, at the end of the day, I couldn’t care less about any of this.

Tie-in No. 2 of the week to Scott Jurek’s Eat & Run: Running was undoubtedly a game changer in terms of my own eating habits too.

Like Jurek, it wasn’t until I began running that I truly understood the value of what I was putting in my body. The evolution, both natural and welcome, was also, of course, gradual and scary.

This wasn’t unlike Jurek. Even he admits that, for a long time, he continued to knock back all sorts of McSandwiches and McProducts that had come out of the McDeepFrier before abstaining from it altogether. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and frankly, I don’t think it’s necessarily healthy to cut what your body is used to consuming cold turkey either. Change can — and should — be gradual if it’s something you plan on sticking with forever.

When I first began to shift my ways of thinking in the kitchen, I started small. It was my sophomore year of college, and I decided to trade steak for chicken. The only problems were that 1) I’d order fried chicken strips and 2. as a college student, steak was also simply way too expensive, making chicken not only the more nutritious option but the more affordable one too. Really, I didn’t have much of a choice.

Moving on.

Over time, eschewing red meat from my diet ultimately resulted in my body’s inability to digest it all altogether. Not long after, the chicken didn’t sit too well either and I began toying with strange concoctions like avocado smoothies.

By the time I was a senior at the University of Michigan, I had essentially gone from aggressive meat-eater to wimpy vegetarian — at least, that’s how it felt to me. The physical result, when combined with my increasing mileage, was significant weight loss on a body that was never really overweight.

Now what?

In truth, I didn’t really know what to do. On the one hand, I loved running and the way eating “clean” was making me feel when doing what I loved. Of course I did. Just take a look at this recent Huff Post article on the correlation between lifespan and a vegetarian diet; all evidence points to vegetarianism as an asset to one’s health.

On the other hand, I had in a lot of ways lost control of my body by being unaware of how to consume enough protein on a mainly vegetarian diet. This would be one of my biggest obstacles to date.

Like Jurek, the last three years have been a giant experiment as to how I can combine different flavors, nutrients and ingredients to truly fuel my body with food. Moreover, I’ve learned how to live on a primarily vegetarian diet — with the exception of the occasional portion of fish.

My pre-race fuel: lentils the night before and whole-wheat vegan baked goods the morning of.

My post-race fuel: anything with peanut butter, vegetables or cookie dough fruit.

And yet, just when I thought I had figured out what foods my body needs to properly function, it all fell apart.

It started with weird pain in my body, shooting down my legs and through my arms. It continued when Katherine told me that she heard such pains could be caused by a deficiency of vitamin b12. It came to a head when a long overdue doctor’s appointment confirmed that I was indeed deficient of this vital nutrient.

Frustratingly enough, since I’ve begun taking vitamin b12 supplements, the pain hasn’t totally subsided.

This isn’t all that surprising. I know there can be value to vitamins, but when it’s all said and done, real food is the best way to consume and absorb everything our body’s need.

In Eat & Run, Jurek utilizes an ingredient that I’ve been toying with (at least, the idea of it) for quite some time now but have refused to actually try because of the sheer unappetizing nature of its name: nutritional yeast.

Nutritional yeast is known for its nutty, cheesy flavor — both a total turnoff and something that perhaps piques the senses all at once. At the very least, it sounds like it belongs on Bizarre Foods.

It also happens to be a vitamin b12 powerhouse.

This week, I want to focus on running intelligently, and that includes everything from stretching to listening to my body to avoiding complaints to fueling my body properly with the right kinds of foods for me. Consequently, this should also lead to some interesting accounts of my first attempts to use — and actually ingest — nutritional yeast.

• What foods do you use as fuel pre-run, post-run, pre-bed, whatever?
• Have you ever dealt with a vitamin deficiency? Has it affected your running?
• Have you ever used nutritional yeast, and do you have any tips for cooking with it?

With the prospect of food, The Bryant Park Grill, and an inevitable run-in with the lovely Erica Sara, basically, there was very little holding me back from attending Tuesday afternoon’s lunch to celebrate the launch of Candice Kumai’s new book, Cook Yourself Sexy.

But first, to workout.

After Monday’s rare but wonderful moonlit run on Manhattan’s west side that practically lulled me to sleep (after chowing down on Thai takeout) at roughly 9pm, I awoke refreshed and ready to sweat nice and early on Tuesday. I suppose 10 hours of sleep can do that to you.

Because I’m still on the every-other-day plan, Tuesday would not be a run day. Instead, I grabbed a set of 8-pound weights (which are still too heavy for me, but I’m also too lazy to buy new, lighter ones) and my yoga mat, and turned on The Today Show and YouTube side by side on the TV stand.

Tuesday’s 45-Minute Living Room Workout

1. NYLean25: I do the dynamic warm-up and the abs and legs portion of the workout. I figure that I can skip the cardio segment since I get plenty of that otherwise.
2. 8-Minute Abs
3. Exhale Core Fusion: Pilates Plus (skip the warm-up)
4. Ballet and Pilates Fusion with Bernadette Giorgi, first halves of videos 1 and 2 (I skip the second half of each, since I’ve learned that I enjoy the first parts of both the most).

Feeling stretched, strong and satisfied, I showered, got dressed, and subway-ed it to work in order to preserve my straightened locks. Naturally, because I decided to actually do my hair in anticipation of the day’s event, it rained, resulting in an inevitable un-straightening. Fail.

At any rate, frizzy hair or not, Tuesday’s luncheon at The Bryant Park Grill was wonderful, from the misty gray backdrop outside the windows to the company inside.

The Event

Candice’s luncheon was so much more than a gathering of fans to celebrate the launch of her book; rather it was an intimate event to celebrate women, health, the use of food to feel good about ourselves, and to raise awareness in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The “backbone” of healthy living, says Candice, is maintaining a mindful attitude toward what we put in our bodies.

As a girl who used to order anything on the menu that moo-ed or oink-ed — who now eschews meat as much as possible in place for a primarily vegetarian diet — Candice’s philosophy and the purpose behind Cook Yourself Sexy was something I could definitely relate to. In fact, many of her ideas (like eating what you want, while swapping out less nutritious ingredients like butter for bananas when cooking; yes, it can be done!) are already part of my personal repertoire. Yes, this catalogue of recipes was something I could get on board with.

As I’ve mentioned plenty on WRFG, changing my diet didn’t happen overnight, and yet this slow evolution has become such an integral part of who I am. As Candice expressed, which I agree with, we tend to embody the life that we promote. And if that’s the case, in my opinion at least, a life of moderation is certainly something to strive for.

Tuesday’s luncheon was catered by Eggland’s Best, who partnered with Candice to help raise awareness on the importance of maintaining a healthy lifestyle in the fight against breast cancer. We dined on a menu of pomegranate mimosas (yum!)…

…nicoise salads (hold the tuna please, yuck!) and a sun-dried tomato and mushroom frittata.

For dessert, platters of cherry-pistachio clafourtis, strawberry cupcakes and creme brulee topped with strawberries were delivered to each table; unfortunately I had to leave by that point and never got to taste these scrumptious looking sweets.

Candice herself was incredibly personable, with a girl-next-door type of radiance unexpected of a beautiful TV personality like she (think Top Chef and Iron Chef America). Just like her persona, her point of view on nutrition and health was equally approachable. As she put it during a brief Q&A, “Let’s go back to eating real.” Well, Candice, I couldn’t agree more.

Of course, I couldn’t help but hold an extra soft spot in my heart for Candice’s love of running. Not only did she just publish a book, like, yesterday and agree to chat with an audience of New York City health-fiends on a stormy autumn day, but she’s also participating in the Nike Women’s Half Marathon next week in San Francisco.

That said, I also really appreciated Candice’s go-to recommendations for post-run nutrition — mainly because it’s so similar to the recipes I whip up in my own too-small kitchen. Among her favorite tricks is simply chopping up a small red onion and adding practically anything to it from there, like canned legumes (a personal favorite!). She also tops her mixtures off with a basic blend of lemon juice, olive oil and sea salt. Now, I wonder where I’ve heard that one before.

In regards to the book itself, here are 5 unique elements that I absolutely love about what it has to offer.

1. It’s honest. Like Candice joked during the luncheon, even healthy girls still want to eat cake. Cook Youself Sexy speaks to these women, offering up practical solutions like her “Size Zero Cake.”

2. Great pictures. Something else she wanted to address was the fact that, while recipes often call for certain ingredients and supplies, half the time, we hardly know what they are and where to find them. Rather than tell her readers to grab a mandolin, she offers up overhead photos of her very own kitchen, from the draws to the refrigerator, as a practical guide.

3. Savoring Substitutes. I’m a huge believer in eating everything in moderation. But it’s even more fun to simply make unhealthy dishes healthier, and then eat as much of it as you want! Case in point: Candice’s Dreamy Butternut Squash Mac ‘n’ Cheese. (You can stop drooling now.)

4. Foods with Benefits. Candice refers to this section as FWB’s. In it, she explains not only which ingredients to use but why they’re good for our health.

5. Universal appeal. While the title may scream lingerie and heels, at the end of the day, Cook Yourself Sexy is for everyone. It’s about not only looking, but feeling your best, and there are plenty of recipes for men and women, adults and children alike.

The Giveaway

One of my favorite parts about having a blog is being able to not only tell all of you — my readers — about any experiences I’m privileged enough to take part in, but to share them with you too. And with that, I’m offering to give one lucky reader my copy of Cook Yourself Sexy.

Want in? There are 3 easy ways to enter, and each one grants you 1 entry.

1. Leave a comment below telling me what ingredients make you feel sexy — or, if that’s way too cheesy, then your favorite post-run snack or meal. Be sure to leave your email or Twitter handle in case you’re the lucky winner.

2. Tweet out this message (or something like it): Nom Nom! I just entered to win this #cookyourselfsexy Cookbook by @candicekumai from @runforglitter http://ow.ly/ebiHg #giveaway

3. Follow my Twitter handle @runforglitter if you aren’t already, and leave a message below telling me you have.

A random winner will be chosen on Tuesday, October 9, right when I get back from Noah’s marathon in Chicago.

Good luck to all entrants, Chicago marathoners, other marathoners, runners who are finishing up their NYCM training, and everyone else who loves running, eating and all that good stuff as much as I do. And a big thanks to Candice for holding such a lovely event — and the delicious cornflake chocolate chip cookies in our swag bag. Sorry kids, I won’t be sharing these with you.

• So, what ingredients make you feel sexy? Whipped cream? Strawberries? Dark chocolate peanut M&Ms?
  
• What’s your favorite post-run snack or meal? 

So here we go: the recipe for a delicious side dish of almost-burnt carrots and a wonderfully warm complement to any fall meal.

Sidebar: I recently interviewed an acupuncturist and alternative healthcare practitioner for work — oddly enough her practice is located just a few blocks from where I stayed for the Philly Half Marathon. Anyway, she says that, according to Chinese Theory, that ‘low energy’ we feel come autumn is actually just our bodies syncing with nature. From rainy mornings to early dusks, fall tends to be a slower, more low-key season than summer, after all.

One of her tricks for managing our bodies and minds during this time of year is to eat more cooked, as opposed to cold, veggies. If that’s the case, then these carrots are a great (and cheap!) way to substitute a side salad at your next dinner party. Plus, for carrot haters everywhere, the taste and consistency turns out to be quite similar to sweet potatoes and yams.

Enjoy!

What you need:

A bunch of carrots, either pre-cut and washed or whole

Kosher salt

Extra virgin olive oil

Aluminum foil

A cooking tray

How to make it:

1. Set your oven on broil to between 350 and 400 degrees, depending on its strength.

2. Cover your cooking tray with aluminum foil.

3. If you purchased whole carrots, peel the skin off and then cut each carrot in half. Trust me, they will shrink significantly. If you purchased pre-cut carrots, then all you need to do is toss them onto your pan. The carrots should be spread out evenly to allow for equal broilage (no? not a word?).

4. Lightly coat your carrots with extra virgin olive oil.

5. Sprinkle with kosher salt.

6. Place in the oven (or toaster oven, if you live in a teeny New York City apartment like me; see? this recipe is tres versatile!).

7. Cook for approximately 10 to 15 minutes, or until the carrots begin to turn deliciously burnt. Remove, flip the carrots, and return the tray to the oven (or toaster) for another 10 minutes, or until this other side becomes equally deliciously browned.

8. Remove, and place onto a plate with paper towels to blot off any excess olive oil.

• Do you make the switch from raw to cooked veggies when the weather gets cooler?
• What are your favorite fall sides?

Not long ago, I used my weekends to run longer than I normally would on a weekday morning — no matter what. All summer, injury or no injury, I allowed the imminence of the Philadelphia Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon to loom over me. And come Saturday (or Thursday, on weekends when I was planning to escape the city’s sweaty streets), I did my best to “train” by logging anywhere between 8 and 11 miles.

As with most training plans, even if this one was a bit less conventional than usual due to injury, the hard work, determination and hours spent outside navigating Central Park’s many pathways paid off. On Sunday of last weekend, I finished my fourth half marathon since last year.

As you might recall, in the weeks leading up to the race, I decided to place myself on a limited running program — a stark difference to my typical run-once-a-day past. The main tweaks:

1. I avoided running back-to-back days.

2. I stuck to 3 days (4 if I was really craving it).

3. I hardly ever ran more than 3 or 4 miles on a weekday at any given time, instead saving my strength for longer weekend excursions to build endurance.

Since crossing the finish line at the Philadelphia Rock ‘n’ Roll Half, I’ve been able to be more lenient, and I’ve returned to a decidedly more lax running program that’s characteristically closer to what I’m used to — not to mention, what I prefer.

On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I ran 5 miles each day, adhering to Tweak No. 1 as mentioned above but exceeding No. 3. New York’s crowded sidewalks…

…and Central Park’s lower loop welcomed me back with open arms, and I was able to enjoy my early morning home away from home once again.

The biggest change wouldn’t come until Saturday — otherwise known as one of two mornings a week when I can run as far and as long as I wish. Yet on Saturday, clad in see-through white running shorts (note to self: check mirror before leaving home) and a comfy green T, I ran no more than 4 miles.

Bam. Resistance.

I know this might not seem like a big deal to some, but halving my typical route and intentionally stopping with still a mile to go until I was back at my apartment was a really big step in my growth as an intelligent runner. In a sport that’s so often dictated by the heart, for once, I’ve begun to think with my brain and, more importantly, my body.

Thanks to last week’s half marathon, I had already logged more than 28 miles for the week without too much effort — this only about a month after dealing with a very wonky leg. Could I have done somewhere between 7 and 10 miles on Saturday morning? Sure. I probably wouldn’t have reinjured myself either. But in the scheme of things, why test it? What was it going to prove?

Saturday morning’s run turned out to be incredibly refreshing. Rather than stop by Central Park, I decided to instead head downtown, a route that took me through Madison Square Park, Washington Square Park…

…and Soho’s cobbled streets. After stopping in a few boutiques (yes, sweat dripping and all) and perusing some street art on West Broadway, I noticed that I had already gone nearly 2 and a half miles, and that it was time to turn around and head on home. By the time I hit Union Square, the map struck 4, and without questioning it, I stopped.

Fortunately, it was a beautiful fall morning, both sunny and warm, and the end of my run left me in the heart of the Union Square Farmers’ Market. There, I topped off my morning with a few small, local purchases. Mainly a bottle of alcoholic cider, cherry pie…

…and a pepper plant. Just an ordinary Saturday morning.

After having worked out every day since the half marathon, I took Sunday to be extremely and unabashedly lazy. I stayed in bed until 1. I watched 2 chick-flicks (because who can resist Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal, even after just having watched The Devil Wears Prada for the hundredth time?). I ate the aforementioned cherry pie.

That’s it here. Now, to start the workweek anew.

But first, I’m pleased to announce the winner of the Erica Sara Designs Race Bling Giveaway!

Linna, meet your new Race Bling!

Congratulations Linna, and good luck on your third New York City Marathon, you champ you (I’ll be Tweeting at you soon). Thanks to all who entered, and an even bigger thanks to the amazing designer herself.

• Do you prefer short or long runs on the weekend? How far do you usually run on Saturdays and Sundays?

My training began strong, with an impromptu 11-mile run that built up my confidence levels like woah. If I could crush 11 miles after just a week, I knew that I had the platform for a strong race, even if it was still a solid 2 months away.

That’s when my body began to fail me.

Without hashing out the details that I’ve beaten to death over the last couple of months, let’s just say that getting to the starting line has been quite the journey in itself.

Just a few weeks ago, as I began training again after taking 10 full days off from running altogether, I became fearful — and of so many things at that. For one, I was scared that I’d have to back out of the race; I imagined waking up on September 16th, knowing that the race was just about to begin while sulking from my New York City apartment. And then there were the what ifs. What if I race and injure myself mid-event? What if I finish, but can never run again afterward?

The list goes on and on.

With prudence and patience, September 15th, the day before the big showdown, finally came. On Saturday afternoon, Dori arrived at my apartment where we’d set off to Penn Station together to kick off our half marathon weekend in Philly. I felt good. I felt strong. I felt excited. And yet that lingering what if dread continued to tickle the back of my mind.

By 1 in the afternoon, I had no choice but to ignore all those voices. We had boarded the train and had accidentally situated ourselves in the “quiet car,” where it is forbidden to use anything but a whisper. As Dori put it, this alone would be more of a challenge than 13.1 miles of running.

Once in Philly, it was the same old pre-race day song and dance. We stashed our belongings in her friend’s apartment where we’d be staying and headed over to the race expo to pick up our bibs and swag (though, Mr. race day organizer, albacore tuna does not count as swag).

While there, we checked out sweet running tanks (I’m a sucker for colorful mesh) and perused glittery gear.

Dori had her first taste of a Gu…

…and I of Snickers’ new line of dog-treat inspired athlete-friendly treats.

We took pictures in front of glowing backgrounds…

…and then decided to get off our feet for practical reasons and call it a day. Rather than wander the city, we walked back to the apartment to watch cheesy television shows like Keeping Up with the Kardashians (which I’m ashamed to say is surprisingly addicting!) and to relax.

By 6:15, it was dinner time. I’m not so much the carb-loading-Italian-pasta-and-massive-baguette type, but thanks to my cousin’s friend’s recommendation and a stellar rating on Yelp, we wound up indulging in the perfect race day eve meal at an adorable eatery called Audrey Claire. On the menu:

• An arugula, lentil, fig and goat cheese salad.
• An order of Brussels sprouts with Parmesan cheese.
• The best grilled artichoke hearts ever.
• A beet, orange and truffle oil side dish.
• A 3-dip platter of spicy hummus, avocado hummus and sun-dried tomato and basil spread with pita bread (that counts as card loading, right?).
• A complementary tomato and mozzarella platter that I’m pretty sure the chef gave us so that I’d stop staring at him (we were seated at the bar).

Paired with a half-bottle of white wine and a requisite bread basket, Audrey Claire turned out to be just what I needed. The atmosphere was low-key and the water had lemon in it; a winning combination if you ask me.

After dinner, Dori and I stopped off at a nearby grocery store to grab a few last-minute items (coconut water for after the race, mainly), and then it was off to bed. While the thought of waking up at 5am on a Sunday morning would make most mortals cringe, I was perhaps a little too happy to be in bed by 9:30 on a Saturday night. Old age really is upon me.

Naturally, before saying goodnight, Dori and I took the time to test out our brand-new headbands and make sure our accessories were in order. Spoiler: Not only did these Lulu headbands look freaking awesome, but they were by far some of the best ones I’ve ever owned. For the first time, well, ever, I didn’t wind up with head-sweat burning my eyes; the material managed to soak up every last salty drop. Worth. Every. Penny.

After a less than great night of sleep, race day arrived. Morning brought with it that same excitement I remembered so well — the same excitement that ignited this need to sign up for another race and will most likely prompt me to do so again in the future.

The alarms started going off at 5:15 am while it was still pitch-black outside.

Slowly, we showered, walked downstairs to grab coffee from the Starbucks around the corner, and began to get ready. As the sun rose over the city of Philadelphia, I began to feel more alive than I have in a long, long time — perhaps since my leg injury first took hold. In no time, we were dancing around the apartment as though we were going to an electronic music rave when, in reality, anyone raging from the night before was probably just getting home to go to bed. But hey, to each their own.

Awake as ever, we pinned our race bibs onto our shirts…

…and finished up small morning snacks of chia muffins, vegan cranberry scones and whole wheat rolls.

By 7:15, it was into a cab and off to 22nd Street just west of Benjamin Franklin Parkway.

Over the last year, since immersing myself in this wonderful world of racing, I’ve heard plenty of mixed reviews about these Rock ‘n’ Roll events. Philly, rumor had it, was one of the better ones due to both the flat course and the fact that the event was allegedly well-organized. Turns out, the rumors were true. For the most part, I was blown away by how calm and put-together everything was, from the corrals to the porta potties to the post-race water, Gatorade and chocolate milk stations.

Dori and I were in corral 13 (perhaps a bit ambitious given her lack of time to train and my injured leg), which put us about 20 minutes behind the 8:00 start time.

At 8:20, we crossed the finish line and started our 13.1-mile run.

Mile 1: As most races do, mile 1 felt like it didn’t even exist. I was smiling from ear to ear knowing that I had worked so hard to make it to that moment uninjured, and even if it was just for a few seconds, I wanted to soak it all in.

Mile 2: Unlike other races, the start of the Philly RnR route never felt overly crowded thanks to the city’s luxuriously wide streets. Both Dori and I noted that we felt strong, which was amplified by the fact that, by mile 2 in Central Park, we’ve generally just finished climbing Cat Hill. The flat Philly surface was a breath of fresh air.

Mile 3: Still feeling good, Dori and I decided that we were keeping a solid, steady pace. We settled into a nice conversation and took in all the city had to offer. There were also some great fans cheering from the sidelines here, which made those first few pivotal miles go by in a flash. Before we knew it, we were into the single digits.

Mile 4: I know the map showed us going in a loop for the first 4 miles, but at this point, I began to feel as though we had circled around and around and around. A substantial part of the race was supposed to be along the water, and I was kind of ready to escape the tall buildings at that point. I’d had enough of the urban surroundings.

To occupy ourselves, Dori and I began deciphering the shapes of sweat that had formed on people’s backs — from hot air balloons to brains to Popsicles and peace signs.

Mile 5: Fortunately, mile 5 brought us back to the starting point, which was a great indicator of what was to come. Once we passed the art museum, we knew that the rest of the race was basically a big out and back down the river and home. This environmental change brought with it a sense of calm, as did the sound of crickets surrounding us as we entered a more scenic, wooded route.

Mile 6: Dori and I both felt fine by the 10k mark, but this was where we both started to feel like we were running a race. During every half marathon, you reach a point where, on any other weekend morning, you’d be totally satisfied with the mileage you had logged — with us, 6 to 7 miles would usually be it. Instead, by mile 6, we acknowledged that we were a mere halfway there.

Mile 7: I should mention now that, although all of my photos depict headphones around my neck, I never once listened to music during the Philly Rock ‘n’ Roll Half — and it wasn’t because I thought the event’s music was at all great — which it wasn’t. By mile 7, free of music, I was concentrating on taking it all in and ignoring the fact that we had a ways to go, from the thousands of people surrounding me to the beautiful Sunday morning to the perfect fall air. 

Mile 8: Remember that time during mile 5 when I was all I can’t wait to get to the river? After 2 or 3 miles on the river, I was ready to head back into the city. Every bridge in the distance brought with it the hope that we’d be crossing to the other side and reversing the route; most of those bridges also brought with them disappointment. Dori’s knees were starting to give at this point, in equal proportions to my patience.

Mile 9: Finally, the bridge that we’d cross to head back toward downtown Philadelphia. Homestretch time.

Mile 10: Our pace had slowed significantly by mile 10 as my leg began to momentarily throb. As for Dori, she was pretty sure she left her knee caps back somewhere around mile 8.

Mile 11: Have you ever encountered that really annoying spectator who tells you just what you don’t want to hear exactly when you don’t want to hear it? Enter the guy who shouted out, “You got this, this is the worst part of the race,” from the sidelines. Thanks, guy in flip flops.

Mile 12: We could see the art museum off in the distance at this point and could practically taste the finish line. It’s less than one lap around the reservoir at this point, I told my cousin. We’ve done this a million times.

Mile 13: As always, the last .1 mile stretched out for what seemed like forever. And then, we saw it — the finish line up ahead. In true dork form, we grabbed hands and crossed the threshold to greatness, my cousin finishing her first half marathon and I my fourth in just over a year. Naturally, the camera didn’t catch us holding hands.

The best way to sum up the Philadelphia Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon is to say that, upon crossing the finish line, I forgot to stop. My body was certainly ready to sit down and never get back up again, but my heart was ready to keep going. A few steps later, I became aware of the fact that my feet were still peddling and made a conscious effort to slow them down.

When I first registered for the Philadelphia Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon, I envisioned the entire process in a completely different way, from the training through race day, from the physical to the mental. What I suspected would be an easy process turned into one of the hardest few months of my life, full of frustration and pain and, in some cases, dread. And yet, for the first time in my life — despite the fact that this was by far my slowest time on by far the flattest course — I feel like I accomplished something tangible, authentic and real.

When Dori read our time on the train back to New York, she was noticeably disappointed. What I realized at that moment was that even those who claim to be apathetic about time and speed and distance (it must be in the blood) can find the desire — the need — to do better, to push harder, to achieve more when faced with race results.

Of course, a 2:23 finish gives us – both — ample time for improvement. My last race, the More/Fitness Half Marathon, which took place among Central Park’s grueling hills, took me 2:08, and that was with 2 miles tacked on at the start. To add 15 minutes to a former PR might seem like a fail to some, but to me, simply crossing the finish line after months and months of frustration was certainly a success in itself.

• Did you race this past weekend?
• Have you ever been more proud of a slow race time than a PR?

That, of course, was a bad idea.

(They should really add a disclaimer to their logo: “Not for the easily alarmed.”)

After convincing myself that I was plagued with a number of terrible muscle, bone, joint, nerve and neurological diseases, I banned myself from WebMD altogether and decided to wait it out. On the day of my appointment last Thursday, I unloaded all of my fears to my new physician — one of which, in addition to a host of terrible physical dysfunctions — was a simple vitamin B12 deficiency.

How’d I first hear of this? Twitter — the most reliable source on the Internet. Naturally, when a fellow runner (I can’t remember who anymore) told me that she had heard these strange shooting pains could be caused by a vitamin B12 deficiency, I resolved to ignore the comment. But with a strong need to know why my body was failing me — and this was totally apart from the fact that my shins were preventing me from running — I began to research it.

As it turns out, although vitamin B12 deficiencies are typically characterized by a loss of feeling or tingling in the fingers and toes, as opposed to shooting pains around the body, the rest of the symptoms seemed all too familiar — fatigue being at the forefront of this laundry list.

When the day finally arrived for my much-anticipated check-up, I showed up to the doctor’s office prepared for the worst.

“I have bad news for you,” he reported after a thorough intake, physical and blood-work. “Chances are, you’re probably fine.” My doctor went on to tell me that the aches were likely the cause of an old, lingering virus, and that to be vitamin B12 deficient, you have to basically subsist on a diet of bread (non-fortified, that is) and water.

Translation: the biggest problem I was dealing with was a serious case of hypochondria.

(Me? Hypochondriac?)

Point taken.

The fatigue continued. The discomfort subsided temporarily. Yet while I was somewhat 1:2, I still wasn’t satisfied. Instead, I was convinced there had to be another answer for those shooting pains in my body.

The following week, I called my doctor’s office to obtain my blood test results. As it turns out, I have hereditary anemia and, you guessed it, a vitamin B12 deficiency.

Stacy, 1; Doctor, 0.

A few things you should know about why vitamin B12 is so important.

1. Vitamin B12 is water-soluble and found both in food and supplement form. It is naturally present in animal products, including fish, meat, poultry, eggs, milk and milk products. It is not present in plant sources, though it can be found in fortified cereals and grains.
2. Vitamin B12 is required for proper red blood cell formation, neurological function and metabolic function.
3. A deficiency of vitamin B12 can lead to anemia, fatigue, weakness, constipation, numbness, tingling, confusion and poor memory.

Check, check and check.

To be clear, I wasn’t technically deficient at the time of my appointment. As my new doc explained, it’s recommended that our bodies’ levels of B12 fall somewhere between 200 and 1,100 mcg. I rang in at 211 (and this was only days after a hangover that resulted in a massive craving for meat and the rapid consumption of a towering plate of deli meat; a very non-vegetarian act that could have significantly spiked my levels).

(Raves like this sometimes result in a need for turkey meat. Little did I know it was actually making me healthier. Conclusion: partying is good.)

Still, it is in no way surprising that I’ve allowed myself (is it bad that I see it as something I’ve done to my body?) to become deficient in a vitamin that seems so important to our very being. Consuming a largely vegetarian, sometimes vegan, diet after years and years and years of consuming every part of the farm has been incredibly beneficial in some ways and incredibly challenging in others. The most important part of this process, I suppose, is to now listen to my body and heed those challenges that arise.

The good news is that step 1 is to simply stock up on vitamin B12 supplements. Easy. Last week, I popped in to my local CVS and scanned my different options, choosing a natural-sounding brand of swallowable 1,000 mcg vitamin B12 pills over the cherry flavored chewable generic kind. The last thing I needed was a reason not to take my daily vitamin, and cherry chewables would have been more than enough.

I can’t say that I’ve felt a tremendous difference since beginning my new vitamin regimen a week ago, but while the shooting pains still materialize every now and then, they have become less frequent. I hope to be able to say that they continue to do so.

As for the fatigue, running around from New York to Pennsylvania and back again in 24 hours while completing a half marathon somewhere in between doesn’t quite give me the proper environmental factors to gauge my energy reserves. I’m sore, I’m tired, and I’m incredibly grateful that today, the day after the race, is Rosh Hashana — the Jewish New Year — meaning that I’ll be doing whatever work that needs to be done from the comfort of my parents’ house while resting up and resetting.

At the end of the day, I’m relieved to finally know what was causing all these mysterious physical concerns. I’m even more relieved that, on top of getting my body back to where it needs to be, I’ve completed my fourth half marathon (recap to come) and can finally get back to shorter, more body-conscious runs.

As I told my new doctor at the start of my appointment, August wasn’t exactly my month. Midway through September now, I truly feel as though I’m turning a new leaf; I just hope that the wheel continues to spin in my direction.

To a happy and healthy new year, whether you’re Jewish or not. Because, we really shouldn’t need an excuse to press “restart” in our lives; but often, we look for one anyway.

• Have you ever been physically affected by a severe vitamin deficiency?
• Has your diet ever directly affected your running?

If you have a leftover loaf of delicious, bakery-bought bread that’s about 7 minutes away from going stale, old tomato sauce and a hunk of cheese, then you can make this appetizing side dish easily too. After all, there is nothing that irks me more than to waste perfectly good ingredients. At least in my kitchen, there is always a way to use up every item to the very last drop.

What you need:


Bread (really, any kind will do)

Tomato sauce (I prefer Rao’s for its authentic flavor)

Extra virgin olive oil

Grated Parmesan cheese (though any variety should work)

Olives (the saltiness adds a really nice element; capers could be delicious too)

Fresh herbs (preferably basil or parsley, but whatever you’ve got growing on the windowsill is great)

What to do:
 

1. Prepare a pan with aluminum foil, which will expedite the clean-up process later on.

2. Slice your bread into thin, 1/2 to 1-inch slices. Place evenly on the pan.

3. Drizzle your bread with extra virgin olive oil.

4. Spread a spoonful of tomato sauce atop your olive-oil covered bread.

5. Sprinkle the cheese on top of your tomato sauce.

6. Shred your herbs, and place evenly over the bread.

7. This is where you can get creative. On Sunday, I happened to have a tub of olives sitting in the fridge. Rather than allow them to waste away, I chopped up a handful and added them to my cheesy bread.

If you have a jar of roasted peppers, sun dried tomatoes or virtually anything else that goes with an Italian palate, you’re good to go. Get creative, and go crazy with several “toppings” if you’d like.

8. To cook, you’ll need either an oven (pre-heated to about 350-degrees), or, if you’re lazy like I am, a toaster oven. When using a toaster oven, set it to between 300 and 400-degrees depending on your toaster’s strength and broil. It should take about 5-8 minutes, but be sure to keep an eye on them to prevent setting off the fire alarm.

• What would you add to your homemade pizza bread?

But if you couldn’t tell by the title of this post, today is not about purple glittery bandeauxs that I’d love to get my paws on. It’s about homemade guacamole and do-it-yourself ice massagers. Lucky for you, because these items go so well together (like lamb and tuna fish?)…

…I’m willing to share my recipe for both right here.

For the Injured — or Non-Injured — Runner: DIY Ice Massager

I’ll start with the DIY ice massager since, categorically speaking, it goes much better with the overarching theme of this blog.

To be fair, I didn’t come up with this idea on my own. I am a visionary in many, many ways – mainly when it comes to the many uses of cookie dough and Haribo gummies. Actual, practical inventions, on the other hand, aren’t exactly my area of expertise.

I first saw this small, frozen, hand-held massager while channeling the training methods implemented by Olympian marathon all-star Meb Keflezighi. After a 12-mile tempo run, billion-mile recovery bike ride and about 4,021 crunches, Meb tops off his training routine by concurrently rubbing and icing his legs using a frozen handheld massager. Being injured and all, I figured that, as I continue to recover and reintegrate running back into my routine, I should probably be smart and ice my legs too.

On Saturday, before heading out for my first 5-mile run in more than 3 weeks, I created my own DIY ice massagers using nothing more than plastic cups, sink water and a freezer. This is high-tech stuff people. Here’s how to do it.

What you need:

Plastic or Dixie cups

Water

Freezer

What to do:

1. Fill your cup with about 3 inches of water.
2. Carefully place the cup in the freezer, making sure that it won’t fall over.
3. Leave it there for about 2 hours and allow to freeze.
4. When you get back from a nice, sweaty run, remove your partially filled cups of ice and massage your muscles using the bottom, frozen area.

As I continue to ramp up my mileage – ever so carefully and slowly – in anticipation of the Philly Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon on September 16^th, I plan to continue using these silly little devices after each and every run. On Monday, I rocked a short 3 miles before work around my neighborhood, which took me to Madison Square Park…

…then to Gramercy Park and back home. I could definitely feel the aftermath in my legs all day long. Fortunately, I now have ice massagers waiting for me in the freezer, so I’ll never be without frozen brilliance ever again.

For the Fit Foodie with a Love of Mexican: Guacamole 

Another perhaps equally awesome invention? Guacamole, one of my all-time favorite foods in the world.

I had really wanted to run when I woke up on Sunday morning – if only to pretend that I needed a “recovery” run after Saturday’s 5 miler. Instead, because I’ve promised more times than I can count now that I wouldn’t run consecutive days, I instead settled down to a pool…

…a plate of grilled veggies…

…and a massive bowl of guacamole.

If you love massive bowls of sloppy, green avocado as much as I do, here’s how it’s done.

What you need:

3 avocados

1 lime

1 medium tomato

1 small red onion

1/4 jalapeno (optional)

Salt

Pepper

Garlic powder

What to do:

1. In a medium bowl, add all 3 avocados and mash up with either a potato masher or a fork – whichever is easier to find.
2. Chop up your tomato and 1/3 of a medium size red onion. The smaller the pieces, the better. Add to the bowl.
3. If you prefer extra hot guacamole, add about 1 tsp-worth of jalapeno, chopped finely. Remove all seeds. Wash your hands. Don’t touch your eyes for about a week.
4. Squeeze the entire lime into the bowl.
5. Add salt, pepper and garlic to taste.

In my attempt to be healthy, since Sunday turned into a total “rest” day, I meant to eat my heart-healthy guacamole with the grilled veggies. Instead, I did that, plus went at it with a massive bag of whole-grain Tostitos. Do what you can to consume your guacamole in the healthiest of ways, and if you can’t, get over the fact that you’re human and like the occasional chip or 40.

• Have you ever created a DIY post-run device using materials in your home or kitchen?
• Could you see yourself making these little self-massagers?

After 10 days of not running and 647 meltdowns in between, my leg began to feel better. The esoteric galaxy of shooting stars causing that undetermined pain in my leg? Gone. And while trying to run only 3 days post-pain — and determining that my body was not yet ready for pavement pounding — may have been a bit premature, I was hoping with every ounce of it that I had that 10 days would do the trick.

Naturally, I drank a few too many glasses of wine on Thursday night because, well, why would I go into a Friday morning run under any other circumstance? As any WRFG reader knows, hungover runs are what I do best.

Although it might have been more intelligent to rest up and get a good night of alcohol-less sleep, I instead enjoyed my evening at a Zeel happy hour in NYC followed by my favorite shrimp, avocado and heart of palm salad at the East Village’s Boca Chica. As much as I’ve needed to restore my physical well-being, I’m also the first to admit that my mental health could use a bit of primping too. Drinks and dinner with good company was a solid place to begin.

When I woke up on Friday morning, I was ready to run. Bring it, pavement, I thought to myself the moment I opened my sleepy eyes.

New York City greeted me, as expected, with creepy new graffiti wall art outside my apartment doors.

Uncertainty. Anxiety. Anticipation. While not three things you typically want to feel before running, these were the thoughts racing through my mind.

Well, here goes nothing.

The plan: to jog a mere half mile to Madison Square Park. There, paying homage to Monday’s free-flowing strength training session, I’d squat, lunge, dip and more for about 30 minutes using nothing but my own body weight and the park benches for stability. Then, I’d jog a half mile home for a total of 1 mile, split up into 2 segments. 10 more minutes of crunches and arm work would ensue once back at my apartment.

(It’s not Central Park, but this little oasis in Flatiron certainly did the trick.)

Well? I made it! 2 half-mile pain-free stints was all it took for my smile to return. Needless to say, however, I’m trying to be smart about this because, while my leg may not be in as much pain as before, I know I’m not in the clear.

Going forward, my rehabilitation program will be more important than ever, and it’ll be a tricky one to manage at that, what, with the prospect of the Philly Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon (which, by the way, is less than a month away). When I got back to my apartment, it’s all I could talk about. Fortunately, Noah was more than willing to help me hash out a loose, unofficial training plan: run 3 days a week, start with getting back to 5 miles by next weekend.

Of course, none of that would matter until I could determine whether Friday’s excursion was real actually progress or a figment of my imagination. Saturday, I hit the Summer Streets to find out.

I knew that my leg wasn’t yet ready for any substantial kind of run, and so I planned to run 1 mile — just to test out the gears — and then meet a good friend for a little weekend morning flow. We decided to hit up Strala Yoga, the studio started by the gorgeous and lithe Tara Stiles, and to take the 11am “Strong” class led by Tara herself.

The class itself was awesome, and the perfect way to “reward” myself for a mile (and a half; I was a bit late for class and couldn’t help it!) of hard-earned running. After what turned out to be about 4 hours of sweating, between running, yoga, errands and the nice, long walk home from Soho, I threw in the towel and resolved to give my body 1 full day of rest.

I spent the rest of Saturday setting up my new bedding (and finally throwing away the duvet covers that Noah and I were still using from college — more than 3 years ago)…

…getting ready for a Mexican-themed birthday gathering in honor of our good friend and fellow runner Tim…

(The chili pepper pinata, mustache and tequila were pretty much the only details that made it a Mexican party, but that’s neither here nor there.)

…and putting together a delicious, fresh, healthy dinner for myself. It can be incredibly tempting to eat out every weekend night when you live in a city like this, but I also know that I never feel good afterward. One of my recent goals was to cook more on the weekends, even if it means chopping up some veggies and picking up a few smaller pre-made items to go with them on the side.

On Saturday’s menu: A lovely, fruity salad with a lobster summer roll ($5) and tuna summer roll ($2.50). If you love summer rolls as much as I do, be sure to pick these up from Grand Central Market. One is probably enough if you’re eating it with something else, but it was a Saturday night, and I couldn’t choose between the lobster and the tuna, so I went all out.

As for the salad, it was pretty basic. I cut up a plum tomato, a cucumber, 2 slices of a peach, a kiwi and an endive (this crisp, peppery lettuce compliments the sweetness of the fruit really nicely, I find).

On top, I added fresh basil and balsamic roasted chickpeas, which you can find the recipe for here.

That brings us to Sunday. As promised — to myself — I took the day to wrap myself in my new bedding and be a total, self-proclaimed bum. I left my apartment only to get a salad from Piccolo Cafe and to pick up groceries from the Amish Market to make another homemade meal on Sunday evening (lots of ideas and recipes to come tomorrow!).

As for the leg, I’m still somewhat on the fence. I know that those 2 days of short runs was a really great start, but I am also a staunch realist. 10 days of non-running can do wonders for the body, but that may not necessarily mean that I am 100 percent healed. I imagine this week will be very telling of my future.

• How was your weekend? Any great runs? Did you participate in Summer Streets, NYers? How do you feel about mustache-themed parties?

Thank you dearly for so graciously allowing me to crash your yogurt and fine ingredient pairing on Wednesday night. If it weren’t for you, I’d have gone to yoga, walked home, and lamented my mysterious aching leg. Instead, I met up with 3 incredibly pretty runners (Ashley from Running Bun, Kristin from Shore to Run, and Beth from Put Up Your Blog Already), got my ass whooped in knocking back a glass of wine (I really thought I was a fast drinker up until that point), and tasted dairy-filled fusions like cows were going out of style.

Today is day 3 out of 3 of operation keep Stacy off her feet, and to be honest, I’ve kept myself so busy with fun things like overcrowded yoga classes, yogurt tastings, BYOB dinners and solo living room workouts that I haven’t really had the time to put on a sour face. If I can make it to the weekend without running and, fingers crossed, wake up on Saturday morning without any pain in my leg, then maybe – just maybe – I’ll allow myself a short morning outing in Central Park. Until then, I’ll just gush about yogurt, yogurt and more yogurt.

The first thing I should probably address is where my penchants lie. As a health and wellness writer/editor, I tend to see both sides of the dairy argument on a constant basis; and whereas some dietitians tout the benefits of whole milk, and others suggest skim and non-fat only, still others recommend against breathing within a 20-mile radius of anything squeezed out of an udder (sorry for the visual, but not).

As for me, I probably consume dairy in some form on a daily basis, but thanks to my sensitive Jewish stomach, just never in large quantities at any given time. For personal health-conscious reasons, I reach for the skim when dressing my coffee; when stirring cereal into my yogurt, I often prefer 0%. In general, I’m a lover of all ingredients in moderation. Except cilantro. I hate cilantro.

Living in the heart of New York City, I am surrounded by dairy-laden storefronts no matter where I turn. There’s Pinkberry, there’s Red Mango, there’s 16 Handles—none of which I actually like. As I said, my stomach is really sensitive to dairy, and while I do love my skim milk in the morning and the occasional plate of fromage, I also know that an extra large portion of frozen yogurt will wreak havoc on my tummy, and so I tend to stick to dairy-free dessert options like Soft Serve Fruit Co. (my favorite!) and (certain dairy-free items at) Ralph’s.

Chobani’s reasonable portion sizes and their attention to flavorful details, not to mention their practical price point of $3.75 – nearly half of what I’d spend on a trendy fro-yo tub elsewhere – immediately drew me to their Flagship store, nestled in Soho on the corner of West Broadway and Prince. (If you’re in the area around happy hour, I highly recommend stopping into Peep down the block for a super-cheap cocktail and a “peep” into their top-rated bathroom. You’ll see what I mean when you get there.)

You can tell from the moment you walk into the small, intimate space that Chobani’s Soho locale was designed with the consumer’s experience in mind, from their fresh fruit reserves to the exposed kitchen to the jars of fresh honey and olive oil that line the warm, wooden walls. As you can imagine, the yogurt “creations,” as the brand calls them, are equally detailed, each one boasting hand-selected, artisanal ingredients both simple and extravagant at once.

Wednesday’s tasting extravaganza afforded us the opportunity to try spoonfuls of delicious, “purposeful” flavors and — get this — fresh, homemade yogurt (no, not fro-yo) made right there on the premises. Over the course of the evening, we were served a total of 9 homemade blends of sweet and savory mixtures, each one tastier than the one before.

Pistachio + Chocolate

Ingredients: Pistachios, dark chocolate, honey, oranges and mint leaves

Running Commentary: Love, love, love. The orange and mint leaves offered an incredibly fresh contrast against the earthy pistachios and rich dark chocolate flavors. Add in the honey, and you’re basically looking at crack on a spoon.

___________

Blueberry + Power

Ingredients: Blueberries, chia seeds, hemp, walnuts and light agave

Running Commentary: I can imagine eating this before or after a run. Between the chia seeds and hemp, this was a serious bowl of ass-kicking, hill-climbing power.

___________

Seasonal Fruit + Granola

Ingredients: Strawberries, granola and honey

Running Commentary: If there were a Chobani store in Union Square closer to my office, I might eat this for breakfast every day of my life forever.

___________

Toasted Coconut + Pineapple

Ingredients: Pineapple, toasted coconut, hazelnuts and light agave

Running Commentary: Toasted coconut is one of my favorite ingredients, so I was definitely partial to this crunchy tropical topping. While pineapple isn’t my favorite, when combined with the hazelnuts and agave, it collectively tasted like pinacolada on a spoon. So that was cool.

___________

Fig + Walnut

Ingredients: Turkish figs, walnuts and honey

Running Commentary: This traditional combination of Mediterranean flavors drew me in immediately. I could totally see this as being a perfect afternoon snack at work.

___________

Peanut Butter + Jelly

Ingredients: Peanut butter, jelly, grapes and peanuts

Running Commentary: No comment. This one was so good there are no words.

___________

Plain Chobani + Olive Oil

Ingredients: Extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper, served with pita chips

Running Commentary: Totally plain, and yet, thanks to the impeccable flavor of the olive oil, totally delicious. I plan on stealing this simple recipe and serving it to anyone who comes over to my apartment. You’re welcome, future guests.

___________

Plain Chobani + Cucumbers

Ingredients: Cucumbers, mint and salt, served with pita chips

Running Commentary: I’d love to use this as a side dish with dinner one night. I could even imagine serving a dollop of it atop one of my Mediterranean salad concoctions, and nixing the chips.

___________

Plain Chobani + Honey

Ingredients: Served with pita chips

[Camera Shy]

Running Commentary: Add apples to it, and you’ve got a Rosh Hashana party in your mouth. Basic, pure and delicious. Nothing more, nothing less.

___________

By the end of the tasting, and after trying to shovel the last drops of the peanut butter and jelly mixture into my gaping mouth, I was obviously singing Chobani’s praises. All in all, they did a wonderful job with the launch of their Flagship store, and I can’t wait to not only stop in the next time I’m in the area but to try making some of these clever concoctions on my own.

Many of the flavors – and actually, the entire experience – brought me back to my west coast wine tasting tour, specifically to a tasting room in Healdsburg called Williamson Wines. There, Noah and I embarked on an explosively flavorful journey of wine and cheese heaven, and not since that day have I really appreciated a combination of unadulterated ingredients so thoroughly.

So thanks, Chobani, for bringing me back while introducing me to something innovative and new that doesn’t involve zero calories and will actually make me stronger. And also for the complementary bag of hazelnuts so I can make my own half-assed version of your creations at home.

Sincerely,

Stacy @ Will Run for Glitter

• What are your favorite yogurt mix-ins?

Note to self: Don’t not run on Monday mornings. (That’s grammatically correct, right?)

If there’s one thing I hate more than not running 2 days in a row, it’s skipping my Monday morning excursions through Central Park. They’re my center, my ground, my peace of mind. They’re the perfect way to kick off a work week and a healthful way to counteract the effects of whatever crap I ate on Saturday and Sunday from Thursday through Sunday.

To be clear, my irritation was not the source of gilt; it was the lack of endorphins in my system combined with my need to frolic in fresh air before cooping myself up in the office. Although I sit at my desk writing about the benefits of massage and the detriments of stress all day, every day, it wasn’t until Monday that I truly got a taste of how anxiety can so powerfully manifest itself right there in the muscles of your neck.

Ouch.

Anywho, as you can imagine, there was no question in my mind, piriformis pain or not, that I was running on Tuesday morning. I was craving a sense of balance. I was desperate for peace of mind. And I got it, just as soon as I stepped over the threshold that divides 5th Avenue and Central Park.

There was nothing competitive or flawless about Tuesday’s 5-miler around Central Park’s bottom loop, but I do want to point here to a snippet of a recent quote in Runner’s World that I read while on the train back to Long Island on Friday. In it, Articles Editor Debra Witt describes her goals for the upcoming Runner’s World half marathon (which the issue was pumping up like woah).

“I’m not competitive. I prefer to run by feel, not pace, which seems appropriate since I edit our Mind + Body section.”

Debra was able to accomplish in only 2 sentences – and short ones at that – what I feel about running in general. I am not competitive. I prefer to run by feel, not distance or pace. And yes, although a much younger version of this Editor, I too spend the bulk of my days writing and editing pieces on balance, strength, endurance and happiness of not only the physical but of the mental and spiritual as well.

I wanted to channel this concept during Tuesday’s run, but to also transfer it into a few other aspects of my life. For this reason, I became determined after Monday’s slight freak out to dedicate the rest of my week to living by feel. Screw expectations; I’m going for gut instinct.

There are a few ways I’m attempting to accomplish this:

1. Cookie dough. When the Stacy’s away, the Noah will…make incredibly impulsive purchases at the supermarket, like cookie dough. (And mix the colors with the whites, but we’ll save that laundry quandary for another time.) We’ve yet to open the package, but one night this week I plan on making the entire apartment smell like Martha Stewart’s house eating the entire sleeve raw.
2. Uncrustables.The second of Noah’s impulse buys, and a brilliant one at that.
3. Fresh produce. The first half of my diet is made up of sugar, wine and Sour Patch Kids.The other is leafy green veggies and chickpeas. After this weekend’s pizza and soft shell crab-fest, I needed greens—and lots of them! After work on Monday, I wandered into Agata and Valentina’s and picked out a basket-full of fresh items. When I got home, I made a nice, big salad using cucumbers and peppers from my dad’s garden (he always sends me home with a giant Ziplock-full during the summer months)…

   …tomatoes, chickpeas, and naturally, grated cheese. For the dressing, I mixed extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, Dijon mustard and black pepper. I also purchased pre-marinated artichoke hearts and cut them on top, as well as one of my favorite spreads from the market, a pureed broccoli concoction that tastes delicious on crackers.

   

   

Already, between the sugar and the greens, I felt more like myself. All that was left was to crush 5 miles first thing Tuesday morning – and by crush 5 miles, I mean take a leisurely jog without competition or haste.

I’ll be the first to admit that I wanted Tuesday’s run to feel awesome after taking 2 days off, but in truth, it was fine and not much more. Perfection wasn’t the goal though; on Tuesday, the name of the game was intention.

Things I loved about Tuesday’s run:

I took a few different paths that I don’t usually veer off on to. They weren’t anything too abnormal, but even a quarter mile of change can make a world of difference.

• I was able to space off at times, logging between a half-mile and a full mile before realizing that I was even out there. Some might call this “morning black out,” but as far as I could tell, I was not sleep running. I was just in la la land, even if only for a few minutes at a time.

• Central Park was beautiful, and the sun decided to join me.

• I forgot to turn off Map My Run afterward, and ended up midday wondering why my battery was nearly dead, hating my iThing, and then realizing that it was being drained by satellites. Between my run, wandering around my apartment, and walking to work, it also looks like I went 9.2 miles this morning. What a joke.

• My piriformis pain wasn’t an issue.

• I started off with a headache. Within the first mile, my eyes had stopped throbbing, and I could almost literally feel the stress melting away.

• Music was unnecessary after the first couple of miles, and I ran the second half without any distractions at all. Doing this really enabled me to concentrate on the sound of my breath, the length of my stride, the feel of my feet. I was running by intuition, and it felt great.

• Check out my mismatched, holey socks. Something really needs to be done about this.Things I could have done without on Tuesday’s run:

• Odd twinges in my leg. (Don’t worry, I foam rolled when I got home.)

• The headache returned on and off during the run, but it was nothing a little post-exercise Advil couldn’t fix. (See Noah? I’m embracing Western medicine.)

• I didn’t quite feel strong. Sometimes, when I don’t feel strong during a 5-miler, especially when I have a half marathon in my future, I wonder how I’ll ever manage 13.1 miles. Then again, I always have this fear, and I’ve so far always conquered the distance.

So anyway, that’s what’s going on here. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve wanted to significantly increase my mileage to 30+ in preparation for September’s half marathon, and I’ve done so successfully. I also think I might scale back just slightly this week, and incorporate a bit more strength training and perhaps a yoga sequence into my schedule.

20 seems like a feasible number to shoot for, with the inclusion of a longer 7 or 8 mile run later in the week before I head to Fire Island this weekend. Sticking with the theme, perhaps I’ll try to make it 20 non-competitive, pace-less, free, liberating miles.

5 down. 15 to go.

Break.

• What will you run for this week?
• What’s your take on running and the mind-body connection?

1. Fried stuff and meat. I’m Jewish, so fried stuff doesn’t exactly agree with my sensitive stomach. And then there’s the fact that I rarely eat non-vegetarian sources of protein, and so when I do, my digestive system definitely recognizes the difference.

Fortunately, it was my parent’s 37th anniversary dinner (which I totally crashed). And after helping my dad pick healthful veggies from the garden, I was faced with a plate of lightly fried crabcake balls and crispy duck dumplings at a shmancy French restaurant. And it was all delicious.

2. A 4.5 mile run with a massive water break. I knew two things about my running schedule going into this weekend. 1 was that I wanted to finish a shorter run early on Saturday morning before heading out to Eastern Long Island to the vineyards. The other was that I didn’t want to run — or do much of anything else — on Sunday. Rest day. Much needed.

Both were a definite success. After a sound night of sleep in my parent’s house on Friday, I woke up on Saturday at 6:30 am on my own, and headed out into the thick, muggy suburban air for a slow and pleasant 4-mile-or-so run. The only problem? I used my grandparent’s house as a water station and wound up staying to chat for 45 minutes.

3. Wine. Lots of it. Probably something like 3 bottles of it, to be exact. And while 1 or 2 glasses of wine may be considered generally good for your health, several bottles is probably overkill. Summer is bad for my liver.

4. I ordered a salad at the pizza place. And then proceeded to attack the pizza anyway, no thanks to the wine.

5. I ate a big plate of fruit. Followed by a slice of amazing birthday cake. So much for sticking to the produce platter at my nephew’s 2nd birthday party!

6. Sunday’s seafood meal. Scallops, soft shell crab and shrimp would be an otherwise healthful meal, that is, if they weren’t smothered in butter. Best. Meal. Ever.

So this is where I’d otherwise offer up some long-winded monologue about how important it is to be healthy and avoid temptation and blah, blah, blah. But that’s just not my style. At all.

I’ve had two pretty solid weeks of running and training in anticipation of the Philadelphia Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon. I’m loving the increased mileage (30-plus miles over each of the last couple weeks) and have been making a strong attempt to be mindful of the importance of nutrition and foam rolling and all that fun.

These factors are all important. But you know what else is crucial to your sanity? Fun. And playing with awesome puppies that you can give back to your brother and sister-in-law after an hour or so.

A word from the unwise: Don’t let your pursuit of perfection get in the way of living life to the fullest; because sometimes, it’s nice to have that extra glass or 12 of wine, that second piece of birthday cake, that butter-soaked scallop. It’s a matter of balance.

Now that it’s Monday, back to reality.

• What was the most delicious part of your weekend?
• How do you balance work and fun, healthy and naughty, mindfulness and indulgence? 

A full year. Imagine that!

So, in the words of my people, what makes this year different from all other years?

Approximately 12 months ago from this coming Tuesday, I celebrated the culmination of hard work and determination and a feat I thought I could never accomplish when I ran my first half marathon. I’ll be honest; I didn’t train all that hard or have to change all that much about my life. As someone who runs nearly every day anyway, whether there is a race in my future or not, deciding to run my first half marathon really just meant incorporating longer runs into my routine.

Don’t get me wrong; those long runs were hard. Mentally trying, even. I still remember the first time I ran 10.5 miles (the longest of my “training” runs before my first half) around Manhattan’s tip and barely making it home alive, stumbling into the nearest Subway store to grab a bottle of water as I plodded along during that last mile home. That, without a doubt, was one of the hardest runs of my life.

But I did it. And I stand by the belief that anyone can do it too.

Of course, the fact that I feel all happy and healthy now — for one solid year — begs another very valid question. If I wasn’t happy and healthy before I discovered races and training and all those fun and games, then what was I before?

Obsessive. I don’t mean this in a horribly negative way. The problem is that, when you’re running without a purpose – without intermittent goals – you tend to forget about all of the other elements of running that make you strong and fearless.

Like food and nutrition.

I love food, always have always will, and I’ll never understand the people who eat simply for sustenance. Indulging is a source of pleasure, as are the many flavors available in cities around the world. Carvel cakes are definitely included in that statement.

I’m the first to admit, however, that growing up, I didn’t exactly have an eye for the wholesome. Gushers, cookie dough and 16-ounce steaks were more of my jam, and so when I finally realized that I needed to make a lifestyle change (not for weight reasons, rather simply for the sake of being healthier and feeling more energetic), I didn’t know how to do it besides more or less cutting out the crap — and the crap was 80 percent of my diet.

So that’s exactly what I did – and I lost a ton of weight for someone with not much to lose in the first place. To give you an idea, between running 3 to 5 miles a day, every day, my lack of nutrition knowledge, and what I might consider a low point in my life, I was down to about 5’6 and 112 pounds – a weight that can otherwise only be associated with my high school, lack-of-child-bearing-hip years.

The amazing thing is that, though skinny as a pin, I still wasn’t happy. Clearly weight loss wasn’t something I was after; I needed something bigger. I wanted to feel strong. Powerful. Rawr.

The Change: While training for my first half marathon, I was overcome with a wave of relief. I realized that, in order to run strong, I needed to fill my body with the right ingredients. In order to fill my body with the right ingredients, I needed to stop obsessing about food, distance and a lot of other things that had been bogging me down for quite some time.

Training, and maintaining one’s health and well-being, is all about moderation. It’s about knowing when, where and how, but most of all why. After a year of races and events, I feel like I know why I do what I do, and yes, it’s as rewarding as it sounds. Especially when the why is, “Because I deserve this cold, icy, minty Prosseco drink.”

Uneducated. I used to think that in order to race, you had to run billions of miles all the time, maintaining a sense of unyielding dedication from one event to the next. This is off-putting in itself.

We – runners, humans, whatever – need rest. We need breaks from anything we take on in life. It’s these hills and valleys that enable us to apply ourselves to the fullest when faced with a challenge; and, conversely, it’s these challenges that prompt us to let out a deep and much-needed sigh of relief once we’ve accomplished our goals.

The Change: When it comes to racing, experience is the name of the game. In truth, I don’t have much of it yet, but I truly feel as though every subsequent race leaves me more confident in my capacity to perform to the best of my abilities without breaking a bone – or my sense of sanity.

One of the most obvious ways my workout program has evolved is in variety. Running and power yoga used to be the only ways I’d break a sweat, and for 5 whole years at that. Today, I strength train and prefer restorative flows to vigorous sequences. I look at my non-running days as ways to strengthen myself on the pavement. And, as I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, I don’t lament over genuine days of rest. This – and this alone – may be the biggest and most relieving change of all.

Naturally, there will be weeks when I feel off balance, days when I feel like I’ve made the wrong decisions, moments when I want to crawl under a rock and shut out the rest of the world. What I sometimes have to remind myself is that, well, who doesn’t experience these very same feelings?

At the end of the day, I know that running will always bring me back to center — to that place where I can find and fully embrace that happy and healthy version of myself once again.

As for Wednesday, it’s a strength training and yoga kind of day after 3 consecutive runs at 5 miles each. My goals for the week were to reach 25 miles (I’m at 15 with 4 days to go) and to squeeze an 8-miler into Thursday or Friday morning. When that’ll actually happen is still TBD.

• What’s one way your running has dramatically changed — physically or mentally — in the last year?

The official rundown:

Saturday: 11 miles East to West around the tip of Manhattan

Sunday: Eat

Monday: 5 miles around the lower loop of Central Park

Tuesday: 5 miles around the lower loop of Central Park

Wednesday: Strength train

Thursday: 5 miles around the lower loop of Central Park

Friday: 5 miles around the lower loop of Central Park

As you can see, I’m a woman of variety.

At any rate, Noah and I set out for the middle of nowhere, Pa. sometime on Friday afternoon for a weekend on his friend’s farm.

We woke up on Saturday morning to this — a welcome sight in contrast to Manhattan’s endearing yet completely overwhelming streets.

Yep, I could get used to this laid back lifestyle.

Saturday brought a morning, afternoon and evening of degeneracy, where the only form of physical activity I engaged in were a handful of squats, planks and push-ups in between drinking indulgently, cooking up fajitas (I stuck to meatless ones with peppers and onions, obvs)…

…learning that I do not have a natural talent for horseshoes…

…stuffing myself with Carvel Cake (best Supermarket impulse buy ever)…

…and holding my first gun. (Spoiler: I didn’t shoot it. Guns scare the crap out of me as much as thunder and snakes, though I did hold it for all of 3 seconds.)

One thing was clear from the moment we got out there. No, we were not in Manhattan anymore.

This was the type of town where an extra scoop of ice cream on your homemade blueberry pie cost an additional 75 cents, and the waiter apologized for the inconvenience. And yes, I’m still having a very, very difficult time accepting that this kind of place exists. Sunshine and roses, all day every day.

On Sunday morning, Noah and I woke up around 9:30 with a serious need to sweat. I was so glad at that moment that I packed my running shoes. With the rest of the house still fast asleep, we snuck outside, dodging beer bottles and leftovers, and set out for a 5 mile loop that would take us up and down a mountain.

Unfortunately, the “up” part came way too soon, as in the second we got to the road. It was about a 3/4-mile stretch to the top, and while the first quarter of a mile felt pretty awesome, the second quarter resulted in heavier and heavier breathing, and by the end, I had induced an asthma attack. That was not cool.

Still, the run was absolutely breathtaking — and not only in literally terms. Running in Manhattan day after day can really brainwash you to think that you actually enjoy weaving in and out of tourists and commuters alongside loud screeches and car horns. It’s not until you’re surrounded by the silence of the country and serene 360-degree views that you realize how precious empty roads can really be.

Of course, I was grateful that Noah was with me; I’d never have ventured out alone in such an unfamiliar setting. I was also really grateful to sweat out the booze, excess food and Carvel Cake before hitting the road for a too-long car ride that would take us back home to New York.

Now, it’s back to reality. On the schedule for the week is another 20 miles (for a total of 25; I already ran 5 on Sunday) and a much-needed yoga class. I’ve been experiencing a sharp pain in my knee lately (not on the IT band side), and I’m not quite sure what to make of it, and so I plan on taking this week to get my mileage in while simultaneously being mindful of that discomfort.

As for Sunday’s run, I can only hope to channel some of Pennsylvania’s tranquility as I return to the chaos that is Manhattan. Don’t get me wrong; I love this city to pieces. But after a weekend on the farm, I’m thinking that country living may be the life for me after all.

• How were your weekends? Did you take any interesting and out of the ordinary runs, with or without cow sightings?

Portion control.

Growing up in a family in which chocolate was the norm and bacon was the equivalent of flax seeds and chia, portion control was never at the fore of my dietary vocabulary.

It’s not like these are the signs of bad parenting; I was a thin child and remained that way despite cookie dough binges, Carvel Cake purchases, and meat, meat and more meat through most of my teenage years. Although my mom may not have forbade me from consuming the items I wanted, she nevertheless filled our fridge with fruits and veggies, served dinners of salmon and shrimp, and completely outlawed any type of soda from the dinner table. No water? No beverage. (We were not a milk at the table kind of household.)

Overall, these gentle limitations, while still encouraging me to make my own choices regarding chocolate, candy and yes, Gushers and Dunkaroos, enabled me to establish my own dietary patterns, habits, likes and dislikes. While, like most girls, teens and women in general, I’ve had my fair share of doubts, complaints and insecurities, I like to think that, thanks to running and leading a chiefly fit lifestyle, I’ve learned how to repress negative thoughts, focus on my positive attributes, and consume the kinds of food I love—whether “good” or “bad”—in a balanced manner.

Portion control, however, is still something I’m working on.

For those of you who follow WRFG, you’d know that I’m currently resting up—only taking shorter runs every few days, strength training ever so slightly, stretching a lot, and doing yoga—in preparation for my upcoming Philly RnR Half Marathon training. And whereas I rarely think about what I’m eating and how much when my mileage is at its peak, I sometimes have to remind myself to pull the reins on my love of seconds and thirds (of both entrees and dessert) during those weeks when I’m relatively less active.

On Tuesday night, after 2 days of wine drinking and 2 days of short and slow, 2 to 3 mile post-work runs, I implemented my portion control skills with this creative little bowl of grains I like to call bim-bim-bulgar. (The portion controlled part was that I made it in a bowl, meaning there was no room for seconds or leftovers. Bam. I mean, Bim.)

Bulgar wheat is a whole grain with lots of fiber and Mediterranean roots, but really, this dish is far more universal. Don’t stock bulgar wheat in your cabinets? Try bim-bim-quinoa, or heck, cook up a real bim-bim-bop using brown rice. I was just craving a tomato sauce-y dish, which happens to go really nicely with my grain of choice.

Chickpea Bim-Bim-Bulgar

What you need (ingredients):

½ can of chickpeas

¼ cup of bulgar wheat (it looks small, but it puffs up)

1 Kirby cucumber

1 egg

2 fresh basil leaves (from my window sill, preferably)

Grated Parmesan cheese (obviously)

Cooking spray or extra virgin olive oil

Jarred tomato sauce (you won’t need all of it, so leftover sauce is fine)

Tobasco or Sriracha

Black pepper

What you need (supplies):

1 portion controlled bowl

1 pan

How to make it:

1. In a microwaveable bowl, cook your bulgar. Make sure there is about a ½ inch of water floating on top of the grains. (You can always drain them or add more.) It should take about 5 minutes in the microwave.
2. Once the bulgar is cooked, add your chickpeas, tomato sauce, hot sauce (to taste), and black pepper (also to taste). Place this mixture back in the microwave for 1 minute.
3. Heat up your pan using cooking spray or extra virgin olive oil based on your preference. Cook your egg sunny side up. I like the yoke to be runny, but of course, this is up to you. Consider cracking black pepper on top of your egg as it cooks for flavor.
4. By now, the microwave should have beeped, meaning your bulgar mixture is almost done. Grab a potholder and remove the bowl.
5. Stir in Parmesan cheese. Be as generous as you’d like.
6. Chop up your 2 basil leaves and mix in to the bulgar.
7. Chop up your cucumber, and place on top of the mixture. Don’t stir in. You don’t want warm cucumbers, rather you want them to offer a refreshing and cool contrast to the warmed wheat.
8. Top your bim-bim-bulgar off with your fried egg.
9. Enjoy!

• Do your eating habits change when you’re training versus when you’re not?

From the start, I was sure to dot my i’s and cross my t’s, creating a lengthy list of must-have items to pack (you know, good sports bra, Sparkly Soul accessories, etc.) in order to prevent any mishaps during the run. I found that creating a sense of normalcy before even heading out the door actually turned out to be a huge advantage, and that not having to go on a scavenger hunt for last minute headbands, socks and other such equipment eliminated any anxiety I might have otherwise been harboring prior to the morning of July 4th.

Noah and I woke up nice and early on our first full day in San Francisco, and while we’d udually have lounged around the apartment before running on any other weekend (or vacation) morning while munching on breakfast foods and sipping on coffee, we instead got right to it, jumping out of bed and slipping on too-bright gear in order to see what the city had in store.

Of course, because we were in an unfamiliar setting, there were a few items we checked for before leaving for our excursion:

• Phone (with camera)
• Credit card (for our post-run brunch)
• Cash (for water, since we weren’t sure where the fountains were)
• Hotel keys (because those would just suck to forget)

After so many consecutive weeks of hot, sweaty runs along New York City’s humid streets, the crisp 57-degree temperature and surprisingly sunny, fog-less skies on Wednesday morning were, well, a breath of fresh air.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my New York City runs. But for one day, and one day only, I was indescribably happy to be enjoying the change of scenery. Reasons why San Francisco’s weather in July is so much better for runners than New York’s:

1. It’s very, very dry. What that means is that you break a sweat eventually, but not after a mere block or 2.
2. It’s perfect shorts and a long sleeved shirt weather; I at no point wanted to strip down and jump into the nearest lake.
3. The look on fellow runners’ faces appear to be content and optimistic, not as though they’re forcing every stride if only to reach the next water fountain quicker.
4. There’s a breeze, thanks to that giant body of water known as the Pacific Ocean that lies adjacent to the city.
5. Cars — brace yourself – stop for you when you want to cross the street. What they most definitely do not do is try to run you over despite the fact that you are much smaller and less powerful than a moving motor vehicle.

Within moments of my inaugural west coast run, I began to revel in the opportunity to take in all the city had to offer on foot, including hills — like this massive incline we inevitably faced immediately after turning our first corner. (Really, it’s much steeper in person.)

Fortunately, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that this would be the worst of the climbs. In pestering everyone I knew who had been to or lived in San Francisco at some point in their lives, I obviously asked about the hills and how they’d affect my run ahead of time. To all of you who suggested that Golden Gate Park’s inclines might be remotely comparable to those of Central Park, all I can say is that you’re horribly mistaken. Meet me at Harlem Hill. I dare you. See you there.

(See? Nice, flat, cab-less surfaces.)

At any rate, the plan was to run through the park until we reached the Pacific Ocean about 4 and a half miles away (which, as Noah put it, is much more pleasant than hitting Harlem, referring to Central Park’s northern most region). Being that we were on a “fun run,” we never hesitated to stop and check out the small artsy outlets of the park, like the Japanese Tea Garden, making those two or so hours all that much more interesting.

While we certainly weren’t running for speed, just knowing that I was covering 9 miles was reassurance enough that I’d be okay to train for the Philly RnR Half Marathon, which begins in a few weeks. Overall, unlike other instances in which I’ve covered new grounds, I felt strong, happy and confident for the duration of the run, and genuinely enjoyed the range of terrain offered, from pavement to sand and even a bit of trails.

Around mile 5, I finally greeted the roaring and furious Pacific Ocean for the first time in my life. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was music to my ears; and despite my typical tendency to blast tunes while running, this alone was reason enough to eschew headphones when conquering a new city.

Still not convinced to pack your sneakers next time you travel to a new city? How about this…

…or this…

…or the fact that we spent the rest of our day eating our way around the city because, oh wait, we ran 9 miles. Yea. Bring on the champagne and sourdough bread, San Fran.

Ok, so in most instances, 9 miles is far more than is required to have an excuse to indulge without any regard on vacation. Still, I highly recommend at least squeezing a short to medium run into your next getaway, if not for the dietary aftermath then for the chance to take awesome pictures wearing brightly colored mesh and sparkly headbands. Because it’s way cooler than looking put-together anyway.

• Tell me, do you like to exercise (or run?) on vacation?
• What’s your favorite destination run ever?

That said, I had an indescribably wonderful time checking out the west coast over the past few days, and a big part of me — the one that wants to explore and travel and run in different cities all day long — is really, genuinely sad to be back in this humid place I call home.

To say that I ate well, ran far, hiked long, drank indulgently and smiled big would be putting the way I feel about my San Francisco and Sonoma getaway far, far too lightly. Should you find yourself in the area at some point in the future, check out my brief yet jam-packed itinerary for a few ideas of what to do. (A note: Noah and I planned none of this in advance. We simply booked our plane tickets and hotels, and took it moment by moment once we got there. If you err on the go-with-it side of the Type A spectrum, then I highly suggest you consider this tactic too.)

New York to San Francisco, July 3

• Plan dinner in advance. I happen to hate airport food, so I packed myself a whole wheat and flax wrap with peanut butter and jelly to keep me happy come dinner time. It paired famously with the frozen margarita we shared at the airport.
• Don’t fly United, if given the option. We did because we had airline miles, making the flight west free; there were no personal TV’s, however, and we were forced to watch Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. It’s as exhilarating as it sounds.
• Fall asleep as quickly as possible, and don’t wake up until you’re about an hour away from your destination. Warning: This may piss off your travel partner.
• Arrive at Metro Hotel, a great and un-fancy yet perfectly clean hotel near Haight Ashbury, far from the downtown commotion and closer to where real Californians live. Also, they gave us 10% off our stay because of some angry hotel guests who kept everyone up; something any New York concierge might have simply told you to “deal with.” So that was really decent.

Day 1, July 4th

• Golden Gate Park Run: Golden Gate Park is really similar to Central Park, only more lush, less hilly, and about 4 miles from the Pacific Ocean at the start. Noah and I woke up nice and early, and ran through the Panhandle to the entrance, where we began exploring the park from one side to the other. It was an amazing way to see some awesome sights, like the Japanese Tea Garden, and a really gratifying way to get my first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean. (More details  of the run to come in a separate blog soon.)

• Brunch at Zazie: The only thing more satisfying after a solid 9-mile run is a solid 9 course brunch. For that, we checked out — and waiting 45 minutes to be seated at – Zazie, a cute little brunch spot near Hotel Metro. When we finally sat, we ordered 2 awesome red, white and blue Prosecco drinks with marinated strawberries. It was the perfect way to toast to a great start to our vacation.

• Embarcadero: This wharf is a great spot to check out, but there’s not all that much to do. It’s super touristy; not my favorite. Still, grab a coffee (because apparently San Francisco is the coldest city ever) or iced chai (to cool off after your run) at Peet’s (their version of Starbucks) and sourdough bread from Acme.
• Victoria’s Secret Pitstop: At this point, I realized I was sweating despite the 50-degree temperatures. In other words, a backup bra was sorely needed, and I only brought the one I was wearing. If ever there were a reason to love your iPhone, this was it.
• Top of the Mark: A friend of Noah’s suggested we check out the fancy penthouse bar at the Intercontinental known as Top of the Mark. What a nice and random suggestion; the 360-degree views of the city were spectacular and made the champagne taste that much more special. We also shared a plate of marinated olives and spiced nuts as a prelude to dinner.

• Ploy II: A random Thai restaurant in Haight Ashbury that Noah and I ate dinner at on our first night. It’s funny, because we had lists upon lists of suggestions from friends of all these great foodie hot spots around the city; but when it came down to it, it was July 4th. They were all closed. Fortunately, Noah had been to the area before and knew of this 2nd floor gem, where we shared less-than-$20-a-bottle wine, fried tofu, spring rolls, charred veggies and pad thai. The laid back non-scene-y-ness of the meal was more than welcomed.
• July 4th Fireworks! Of course, we climbed another massive hill to view the fireworks in an area known as the Twin Peaks. The views were absolutely worth it, though the frigid air (people were literally in blankets; I was merely in a sweater) drove me back to the hotel only 15 minutes or so after the show began.

Day 2, July 5th

• Mt. Tamalpais. Noah and I had been struggling with how to spend our second day in San Francisco. Should we bike over the Golden Gate Bridge? Should we head to Muir Woods, one of his favorite places? Ultimately, we choose to climb Mt. Tamalpais, which is about an hour outside of the city but offers absolutely breathtaking views of what appears to be the edge of the world. If you plan on doing this, here are a view things to note.

1. Bring a map. We were lucky enough to run into a park ranger who offered us one, but without it, the hike would have been extremely confusing. Plan this in advance and don’t rely on pure luck like we did.
2. Sausalito. If I had an endless bank account, I’d purchase a place here tomorrow. Stop off on the way out and the way home in this incredible town on the water. On the way out, we drove to Mollie Stone’s Market to grab snacks for our hike — whole wheat olive bread, cheese, salami (for Noah), a peach, trail mix, water, almond butter and — because we both wanted to try them — chia seeds. (I really didn’t feel a difference in energy after eating them. Maybe I did something wrong.)

• Fish. Like I said, we stopped in Sausalito again on our way back into the city for a great, post-hike lunch. I was a bit hesitant about a restaurant called Fish., especially on the water (any waterfront restaurant risks being a total tourist trap). Everything happened to be delicious though, from the grilled artichoke to the fish tacos to the clam chowder. I’m actually salivating a little thinking about it now.

• Impromptu Manicure. When we got back to the city, I felt dirty, exhausted, and in need of a little NYC TLC, and so I found the nearest nail salon and booked myself a quick manicure (along with a 30-minute massage to keep Noah happy while I pampered my digits).
• Anchor Oyster. If you like crabmeat, oysters and long waits where they serve you clam chowder (we were definitely not in New York anymore!), then definitely head over to Anchor Oyster Bar. Located in the heart of The Castro, the restaurant has a real small-town charm about it. Plus, it’s surrounded by inappropriately named stores. While the wait was long, as mentioned, they actually came out and served us small to-go bowls of clam chowder to keep us happy and warm. In the meantime, we picked up a bottle of red wine from around the corner and drank it in Dixie Cups on the street, real classy-like. Don’t judge. I was freezing.

Day 3, July 6th

• Yoga Loft. Not surprisingly, after a 9-mile run with hills and a 6-mile vertical hike, piriformis syndrome was back in full force come Friday morning. With Noah still asleep, I snuck downstairs to a yoga studio I had noticed next to the hotel and took what turned out to be basically a one-on-one class at 7:30am. To the teacher who was probably hoping that no one in their right mind would show up, I’m so, so genuinely sorry.

• Sebastopol. Not in too much of a rush to start consuming wine in massive amounts, we drove toward our hotel in the Sonoma Valley (Cloverdale, to be exact) and stopped off in a cute town known as Sebastopol along the way. Here, we just kind of wandered, eating lunch at a great — and totally delicious — restaurant, Hole in the Wall, where I ordered the beet salad and Noah got the greatest grilled cheese on earth. Seriously, it tasted like French onion soup.
• Mom’s Apple Pie. More of a hole in the wall than the restaurant where we ate lunch, Mom’s Apple Pie is listed as the go-to place for pie according to Diners, Drive-In’s and Dives. Truthfully, it was okay; the pie tasted like it could use a little sugar. Still, it was a nice place to stop in order to break up the drive, and I nevertheless managed to scarf down a whole slice of cherry pie for myself.
• Old Crocker Inn. Go here, go here, go here! While off the beaten path just slightly, Old Crocker Inn goes down in the books as one of the best places I’ve ever stayed. The inn’s host and hostess were kind and generous, the views were unbeatable, the bed was OMG-so-comfy, and the breakfasts were downright delicious. Old Crocker Inn is located in Cloverdale, which is a northern area of the Sonoma Valley. It’s about 20 minutes outside of Healdsburg, which is full of amazing vineyards. Also note that the inn equipped us with a “passport” of sorts, allowing us to do free wine tastings at many of the vineyards in the area.

• Dry Creek Vineyard. This was the first of the vineyards we visited. Dry Creek Vineyard  didn’t have our favorite wine, but it was a nice place to start, and it wasn’t too far from the hotel — exactly what we were aiming for on our first day. We enjoyed their rose though and purchased a bottle, enjoying a nice glass outside in the garden and taking the rest with us for later that evening.

• Quivira.*** I want to star this vineyard all day long. While only our second vineyard of the trip, I knew this place was special from the moment we arrived. The views were spectacular, the decor was classy yet not overwrought, and the wine turned out to be our favorite overall. We even ordered 10 or so bottles to send back to New York.

• Baci. After the vineyards, Noah and I drove into Healdsburg, which is a less-uppity town in the Sonoma Valley known for their cute stores, great atmosphere, and ample wine tasting venues. At the recommendation of the staff at Quivira, Noah and I shared a glass of wine (which was more than enough after the first 2 tastings) and burrata at Baci, a trendy Italian restaurant in town.
• Zin. Tired, somewhat full, and a little drunk, we finished off the evening at Zin, a fancy-but-not-too-fancy restaurant with great food, nice wine, and a dark interior. My brother and his wife had suggested Zin as a nice venue without the price tag of some of the fancier spots in Healdsburg, which happened to be extremely accurate. We ordered a grilled calamari and chorizo appetizer, which I followed up with an artichoke and a salad. And a brownie sundae. No big.

Day 4, July 7th

• Jimtown Store. Awesome, awesome, awesome vintage shop off the side of the road on our way to the first vineyard; we actually drove past it, turned around, and drove back. Jimtown is packed with old-school trinkets and candy, and very satisfying oatmeal raisin cookies that pair well with wine, in my opinion.
• Lancaster Estate. This was our first vineyard of the day on Saturday, and the only true wine tour and tasting we did. We kind of chose it that morning based on reviews alone, but I’m so glad we did. Lancaster Estate has a really regal yet familiar feel to the place. The wine is muy pricey, and yet the service was impeccable. Plus, we got to drive around the property and to do the tasting in these sweet underground caves, which had the perfect chill for the glasses of deep red wine they’re known for.

• Chalk Hill Estate. Chalk Hill‘s staple bottle is their chardonnay, already placing them low based on my very official rating system. The place was okay; the landscape was amazing, but the wine was not my favorite. Still, the service was nice.
• Wild Sage Deli. For lunch, I turned to Yelp. Noah and I wanted something simple, easy and cheap; we had plenty of wine drinking left to do, and figured we’d be sitting down for a longer dinner anyway. We ended up at Wild Sage Deli, which totally did the job. Good food, cheap sandwiches. Noah ordered some meat and blue cheese concoction, and I stuck to a variety of garden veggies on whole wheat.
• J Vineyards and Winery. After a morning of heavy reds and whites, we were very much craving a change, making J Vineyards and Winery a great and light midday option if only for their sparkling varieties. I loved the open, airy, and modern interior decor of this place and would definitely recommend it to others.

• Rodney Strong. I hate the name of this vineyard, but it was right next door to J, and it happened to appear on the list of free tastings, and so we figured, why not. While the reds were super heavy for a 90-something-degree afternoon, I really liked the staff here. Our wine specialist was friendly and knowledgeable, making our quick pit-stop pleasant and worth it.
• Foppiano. After all these really grand, palatial vineyards, Foppiano — our last and most random vineyard of the day — was a breath of fresh air. Small, family owned, and located in a small house-like facility rather than a sweeping underground cave or something like that, Foppiano’s wines were simple and tasty, the staff was pleasant enough, and they sold one of their reds by the jug.
• Williamson Tasting Room. If I could sum this true treasure of a tasting room up in two words, it’d be “go here!” Not only were Williamson‘s wines delicious, but we were graced with the owner and family’s presence along with spot-on cheese pairings that will literally change your life. The truffle salt is also amazing and, to top it all off, what we thought would be one of the pricier tastings of the day was — get this — completely and 100 percent on the house.
• Mateo’s. Food. At this point, we seriously needed food, and so we headed a few blocks into Healdsburg and plopped ourselves at the bar of Mateo’s, a latin kitchen with an uptown feel. Our plan was to grab an appetizer (olive oil guacamole and some fried taco bites) and a drink (non-alcoholic for Noah, a strawberry margarita that I couldn’t even close to finish for me), and to then find another restaurant in town. Mateo’s was nice, but it totally zonked us out.

• Cloverdale Railroad Station Bar and Grill. Unless you happen to be staying in Cloverdale, I doubt you’ll ever think about eating in this local venue. We just couldn’t imagine sitting at another upscale restaurant, drinking another upscale drink, eating another upscale meal. I know. Woe is us. All we really wanted, though, was to head back to a dive bar near our bed and breakfast and to hang out, and so that’s exactly what we did. They had a dance party at 10 that the staff couldn’t stop talking about, but needless to say, Noah and I did not stick around.

So there you have it. If you’re headed to the west coast anytime soon, I’ve just made your life a whole lot easier. If not, I may have made you hungry and slightly in need of a glass of wine or a vacation. Either way, we didn’t get back until 1:30am on Sunday night, and so I’m insanely exhausted and buried under tons of work that I’ve at least tried not to think about for the past 5 days.

Now that that’s on the table, I do hope you’ll stick with me this week as I get back into the swing of things and attempt to re-adjust to the time difference and real world. I hope you all had a wonderful July 4th week and weekend, and have an equally wonderful start to the week. More details of the trip — and my return to east coast running (September’s half marathon countdown starts now!) — to come.

As for the contest winner, Congratulations Lucky No. 2 — Rebecca — on winning 3 large pouches of Vega Energizing Smoothie mix! Please get in contact with me so I can arrange for your prize to be sent.

• Where is the all-time best place you’ve ever run while on vacation?

Plus, I definitely caught a nice tan.

So here’s my official recap of the Governors Island 10k, a small, intimate, fun and back-soaking kind of a race just off the tip of Manhattan.

It was a beautiful morning from the very start. Much nicer than, say, waking up at 5:30 am for a winter or early spring race when it’s pitch black and cold.

3 elements I would change about the Governors Island 10k:

• Grass. I know that we were warned about the course change a couple of weeks in advance, but I’m not quite sure that I realized that there was a half-mile stretch of grass involved in the mix. Not only that, but we faced the field during the final half-mile before the 2nd lap and the finish line, which made it especially difficult during that final push. Pavement would have been really, really welcomed here.

• Water stations. Or the lack thereof. I was shocked at how poorly the water stations were set up, especially for a race that discouraged the use of plastic bottles. (Did they really expect us to race holding a giant metal bottle? My hands are far too small to grip that comfortably.) Also, the only water stations available were set up within the internal guts of the race, leaving us high and dry for the outer 2-mile laps. And one of the few water stations they did have was set up less than a third a mile from the finish line. While that was all fine and dandy after the first loop, it was pretty much useless on that final lap as we were pushing toward the end.

• The Mr. Softee Truck. Really? I mean, the only thing more cruel than setting up a water station less than a third a mile from the finish line is plopping a closed down Mr. Softee ice cream truck on the race route. What I would have done for a double twisted baby rattle (rainbow sprinkles, duh) at that moment, you have no idea.

My official mile-by-mile recap of the Governors Island 10k: otherwise known as, what it feels like to race a 10k the day after a 10-mile run.

Mile 0-1. Even though the path was too narrow and made of bricks for that first quarter of a mile or so, I felt great. Not oh-my-god-this-is-the-best-run-ever great, but generally loose, comfortable and happy. I was ready to assess how my body felt, and simply enjoying jogging alongside my oldest childhood friend and Co. Kaskade’s Coachella set was playing quietly in my headphones. (Sorry, race director, I really couldn’t see the fun in running your race sans tunes, even though you requested that we do so.)

Mile 1-2. Typically I’m at my worst during this stretch, whether it’s race day or just another morning run. Maybe it’s mental, or maybe it’s just my body switching gears. Another factor may have been that my calves could definitely feel the previous day’s load, despite the fact that I made Noah massage my legs intermittently throughout the day. It was at this point that I started to wonder: I know I’m going to make it, but will I do so with ease or misery?

Mile 2-3. I wasn’t regretting having run 10 miles the day before, but goddamn it I was respecting the crap out of it. Miles 2 to 2.5 were pretty much flat and on pavement, though a little sunny, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. I was maintaining a pretty steady 9-9:30 pace, and was satisfied with it for the most part. Until we turned onto the grass from mile 2.5 to 3, which during that first encounter seemed to never end. It was slightly hilly, very cushiony, and exactly what I didn’t feel like dealing with. (P.S., there was a single file stair case too. Just saying.)

Mile 3-4. Okay, here we go. Round 2. The first lap wasn’t so bad, save for the grassy stint, but I was finally able to settle into a nice, comfortable pace for about a mile or so here. I also ended up running into a colleague who was struggling with his music during his first ever race. While all you can do is really shrug it off and say ehh, it happens, we all know how annoying that really is. Really hope it didn’t ruin the experience!

Mile 4-5. This felt like the home stretch to me because, even though my body was tired and aching and really working hard here, I knew that once I got to mile 5, all I’d have was a mile to go. That’s when I really started to concentrate. “Use your yogi breathe,” I said to myself over and over, repeating that mantra in my head in order to maintain — or at least try to maintain — a consistent breathing pattern.

Just as I was approaching mile 5, I got a tap on the shoulder by a friend.

“Hey!” he shouted. I was surprisingly ecstatic to see his face.

“How much longer is the race?” he asked.

“Just another mile to go!” I shouted back.

“That’s it?” he exclaimed, and he sped on ahead.

Just a moment before that I had been dreading the final mile, knowing that conquer-the-grass round 2 wasn’t far away. His eager, eat-my-dust-with-a-smile attitude reenergized me though, instilling me with the final burst of energy and motivation that I needed to make it through to the end.

Mile 5-6.2. Tired. I’m so tired. But I could tell from my music (I don’t wear a Garmin or other timer) that I was also within reach of my 58:00 goal. At this point though, I could also feel my head tingling, my skin seeping with salt, and my eyes starting to blur. Was my brain swelling? (Hint: A water station would have been really nice sometime during the past mile or so, but as mentioned before, there were none.)

By the time I reached the last leg — the now infamous grassy field — I knew I wouldn’t accomplish that 58-minute goal; but I did know that if I worked my ass off and pushed it across the field, I could break an hour, which was still something worth feeling proud of, especially considering the circumstances and especially during my first ever 10k.

That last half mile sucked. A lot of the runners had slowed to deal with the change of surface; some had even begun to walk. It was hard to navigate around everyone while staying on the inside of the track (after all, I wasn’t trying to add distance to the race). Eventually, I made it across the field to the — wait for it — small, narrow stair case and the line of runners waiting to get down it. Annoyed, would best describe my attitude here, but with the finish line in sight, I picked up my pace again and sprinted.

I want to say that I feel really accomplished after this weekend, but part of me is now even more curious what I’m capable of during a 10k race when I don’t plague my body with 10 miles the day before. Then again, there’s nothing like the way I currently feel (utter exhaustion) to serve as ample motivation for the next time around. Maybe I’ll stick to the training plan, but for those of you who know me, I probably won’t end up doing so.

The best part of my day, besides breaking an hour and brunching with friends (mint Prosecco smoothies, anyone?) actually doesn’t have to do with me at all. Like I said, before Sunday, RS had never covered the 10k distance before, and despite very little training and a whole lotta laziness, she managed to run the entire thing (even though her “goals” were to 1) get to 4 miles without stopping and 2) to not finish in last). Long Island girls set the bar high, if you didn’t know.

After the race, my energy turned into absolute worthlessness. I did a little work, crashed in bed, woke up with an overheated body (I really should figure out why I get fevers and headaches constantly after hard runs), ate a lot of candy (the fever antidote, besides cowbell)…

…and enjoyed a nice glass of rose by myself while enjoying the sound of the city streets below.

I’m forever glad that I signed up for, participated in, ruined my potential for and nevertheless managed to work hard during this very small, unique race in — but not on — Manhattan. While traveling for events is always fun, at the end of the day, there really is no place like home.

Next up, the Philadelphia RnR Half Marathon with my cousin in September. For now, I’m ready to enjoy a month or so of running without any sort of plan or goal.

With that said, consider this my “Will Run For Wednesday” proposition. This week will be to simply run for the fun of it. Since there’s probably no reason to reiterate that tomorrow, and because I’d love to keep my recap up on the homepage for more than 24 hours, let’s just call it a day. Happy Tuesday and Wednesday, and I’ll be back bright and early on Thursday!

I’m full of questions today, so pick one or answer ‘em all! 

• Have you ever set a goal, not achieved it, and been totally OK with it because you knew you worked your ass off anyway?
• Do you enjoy running on a variety of surfaces during a single race? What’s your favorite part of any race you’ve participated in? What’s your least favorite?
• Best post-race snack, meal or drink. Go! 
• What will you run for this week?

While my body is beyond tired from 2 really hard, mentally and physically rewarding days of running, I’ve enjoyed a really much-needed, restorative 3 days in a row now, beginning with kale margaritas on Thursday night. If the thought of a kale margarita doesn’t make you smile — or at least curious — then you might want to reevaluate your priorities. Whether or not you like tequila, this drink was seriously euphoric.

For those of you who live in Manhattan or plan on visiting any time soon, The Wayland is a health nut’s paradise; a small country getaway tucked away in alphabet city, ripe with farm to table dishes, refurbished wood everything and, most importantly of all, unique kale-packed elixirs.

While New York City can at times feel overwhelming, finding hidden gems like this, surrounded by community gardens, can turn it all around in an instant. All you have to do is walk (or run!) around and explore, and I promise, you too can find these same miniature oases that transport you away from it all.

Friday evening was equally as perfect and was spent catching up with old friends. I started the night after work at a little dive bar called No Fun, which actually turned out to be a lot of fun when it came time to pay the bill: $9 for two glasses of wine! Gotta love happy hours in New York City.

Fortunately, I spent the rest of my life savings not long after at Stanton Social, which was definitely a restaurant I had been wanting to check off my list for a while if only for the French onion soup dumplings. Yes, you read that correctly. And yes, coming from a very harsh food critic, the meal was totally worth it.

Unlike last weekend’s hangover of the century, I woke up on Saturday morning ready for my shakeout run. I had spent the previous week making a considerable effort to “taper” for my race, strength training on Thursday and taking a full rest day on Friday, and so with a 3-miler on Saturday, I should have been golden.

The plan: to set out with Noah, who was doing one of his first marathon training runs of the summer, and to break off at the bottom of Central Park and head home, which would give me just about the distance I needed. Saturday morning was so incredibly beautiful though (albeit slightly too hot), and I was having difficulty justifying the idea of cutting a weekend run that felt oh-so-perfect short for the sake of a race the following day.

My brain said turn back, play it smart. My heart, however, said go with it, enjoy the morning, satisfy your body’s craving for distance. And so, knowing that I wouldn’t be jeopardizing my shot at first, second or third during Sunday’s race, I simply ran — and loved every second of those 10 miles.

As my cousin put it, “You ran 10 miles the day before a race. That’s foolish.” But as we ran past the 72nd Street entrance of Central Park, Noah and I wanted to keep going. So we did. And as we ran past the Engineer’s Gate, we wanted to keep scanning the city streets. So we did. And finally, we entered somewhere near the top of the park, cutting off Harlem Hill and running south on the west side.

We stumbled upon this little gorgeous garden (see what happens when you run without any particular direction in mind?).

Then we exited at the bottom of Central Park near Columbus Circle, and ran down 8th Avenue (this turned out to be a horrible idea), finishing at Paragon Sports on 14th Street, where I was picking up a friend’s race packet for Sunday’s 10k.

10 really strong, powerful and satisfying miles later and a mile-long walk home from Union Square, and I knew that I had ruined my chances of hitting my ultimate goal for Sunday. This was something I came to terms with quickly though, and simply allowed myself to bask in the sense of contentment brought forth by what I had accomplished on my own, for no particular reason at all.

Of course, I spent the rest of Saturday recovering, drinking water, and nursing a dehydration headache. I massaged my calves in preparation for Sunday; I made guacamole served on homemade whole-grain Parmesan crackers for fuel.

On Friday evening, I caught up with a dear friend over a bottle of wine and delicious Mexican food at El Parador. Walking home knowing that I’d be going to bed nice and early, full and satisfied on so many levels overwhelmed me with a sense of calm. Ah, there’s that mental tranquility I had been searching for over the last week.

Of course, this brings us to Sunday, the much-anticipated Governors Island 10k. Going to bed early the night before made the 5:30 wake-up call seem less daunting than I prepared myself for — especially when compared to the last time I woke up so early for a race (the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler), which was dark, cold and an I-wanna-just-get-back-in-bed-right-now kind of miserable.

Wednesday through Friday’s heat wave made me nervous for race day, but like the weatherman promised, it was beautiful as ever.

On any normal race day, I’d buy a pre-race muffin for fuel. Yet “any normal race day” since I began signing up for these shindigs last August have also consisted of 10+ miles. With a 10k, I figured I’d try something a bit less aggressive and closer to my normal breakfast, and instead prepared a latte to get things moving and 2 whole-grain Wasa crackers with all-natural peanut butter and wild blueberry preserves. Simple, summery, delicious and nutritious.

I probably could have taken the subway down to the Battery Maritime building, but my lazy side got the best of me and I hopped in a cab instead, meeting my childhood best friend, RS, and her boyfriend, along with a few other colleagues and great people, at the southern most tip of Manhattan to catch the 7:10 ferry.

The views from the ferry were enough to stir up energy and excitement inside me, and even though I had run 10 miles the day before (not my finest choice perhaps), I knew that I was nevertheless going to have a great, fun, strong run — whether or not it was my best, or a PR, or accomplished whatever else it is that people sign up for races in order to achieve.

So this is where I leave you, because I think we can all agree that I’ve covered enough ground — literally and metaphorically — when it comes to this run, food, fun-filled weekend. I hope you’ll come back tomorrow, when you can catch my official race recap of the Governors Island 10k, with mile-to-mile details of what it’s like to run 6.2 miles with all of your heart and soul after a 10-mile run the day before.

As a little preview (because I know you’re all dying to know), all of us who ran on Sunday very much deserved our post-race mint Prosecco smoothies from Westville afterward, even if we were by far the sweatiest and saltiest patrons in the restaurant.

I loved this weekend, and hope you did too.

• What was your favorite part about this weekend?
• Did you run or race? What were your goals and how did you do?

I had wanted to make sure that I’d covered the distance, or more than 6 miles, at some point this week prior to the race. Knowing that the course is essentially flat, I figured that I could add hills to my training run to make Sunday feel like a piece of cake. (Does it work that way? I guess we’ll find out.)

The run from my apartment and over the Queensboro Bridge is a relatively nice and pleasant one; the course is made up of 2 shorter legs (the distance to the bridge and over the bridge, and then the distance back over the bridge and back through the city) in each direction, which breaks up the morning really nicely. In terms of scenery, it’s not exactly green or clean, but as a lifelong New Yorker, there something so industrial — so quintessentially Manhattan about it — that I can’t help but love it to pieces.

Some run for health.

Some run for fitness.

Some run for prestige.

Some run for their soul.

Some run for happiness.

Some run for their body.

Some run for their abs.

Some run for their ass.

Some run for speed.

Some run for distance.

Some run for the music.

Some run for the dance.

Some run for the gold.

Some run for the glory.

Some run for beer.

Some run for the company.

Some run for food.

Some run for gummies.

Some run for wine.

Some run for glitter.

Anyone who knows me knows just how personal running is and has always been to me. It’s not merely my source of sweat; rather, running is my anchor, my happiness, my source of sanity. It’s literally the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I consider before drifting off to sleep. It’s, in a lot of ways, my most trusted and reliable partner in life, and while that might bother a lot of boyfriends and girlfriends, husbands and wives out there, I’m thankful that I happen to slumber next to someone who, even if he doesn’t love it as much as I do, absolutely understands. So, thanks for getting me, Noah.

I’ve been preaching the importance of “running for you” a lot in recent weeks, and I wholeheartedly believe in that mantra through and through. Like I said though, I also believe in forming your own opinions — your own reasons for lacing up your sneakers and committing to doing something inherently good for your body and mind.

On Thursday morning’s 5 mile run around — you guessed it — the lower loop of Central Park, I was thinking about this a lot. I had just pushed myself pretty hard during the mile or so up to the park’s entrance, and was considering how, from a girl who jogged 10:30-minute miles with her head in the clouds to one who’s still slow, but working ever so slightly on her speed and form, my mentality had shifted so dramatically since I first started to run (and never stopped) 6 years ago.

Like I said, I really do believe that it’s important to stick to your guns; to do whatever it is you do based on whatever logic you wish to apply. But I also don’t see the harm in at least trying to step out of your comfort zone; to run, just for a single day, for a totally different reason and maybe — just maybe — for the opposite reason you do now.

Over the last year or so, I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone a lot.

Less than a year ago, I still hadn’t run father than 7 miles, let alone a half marathon. Today, I’ve run 3 half marathons, a 10-mile race, countless 8-plus miles runs on my own and am signed up for another half marathon come September.

(This so obviously belongs on Seriously Ugly Race Pics.)

Less than a year ago, I rarely ran in the company of others. Now (admittedly inspired by the camaraderie exemplified in Matt Long’s The Long Run), I welcome my friends and fellow runners, even if it means running slower or faster (more often than not faster) than I normally would on my own.

Less than a year ago, I detested the idea of speed and was content simply plodding along without any specific goal in mind. That hasn’t changed much. But recently, I’ve at least considered the thought that speed work isn’t so intimidating or pointless. Last week, I even went with Noah to the track and did 3 quarter-mile sprints, learning that, in fact, I’m much faster than I had imagined (even if I looked angry afterward).

So that’s kind of what I’m getting at — this often overlooked notion of trying something new. There is certainly something to be said for consistency in one’s workout routine. Without it, it’s far too easy to give up or put off your workout until tomorrow. Yet without ever trying something new – without incorporating some novel element into the same old song and dance — you’ll never know what you’re truly capable of, mentally or physically.

This weekend, for one day, for one hour, for 10 minutes, for a minute, whatever, I challenge you to go out and rethink your run. Ask yourself what motivates you; why do you do it? Then, give the exact opposite your best attempt. Because, at the end of the day, what’s the worst that happens?

If you run with music, shut the tunes.

If you run for speed, slow it down and take in the scenery.

If you run for first, start in last.

If you run in the back, kick it up a notch and go for gold!

You get what I’m saying. Anyway, that’s where I’ll leave you for the weekend. I’m off to DC, where I’ll be running in the one place where I notoriously have my worst leisurely jogs. Perhaps my goal of the weekend, after adding speed work over the last week or so into my runs, will be to simply enjoy the beauty of the canal. Or maybe, I’ll just do my best to avoid an asthma attack, which I’ve been known to experience while running here.

Have a great one, and if you’re racing this weekend, or running on Saturday, Sunday, Monday, or all 3, good luck and here’s to crushing your goals.

Now, how will you rethink your run?

As usual, I woke up bright and early on Saturday morning and was dressed and ready to run by 9am. Naturally, I was out of all clean running clothes, including a sports bra and shorts, so I ended up wearing a yoga top (under my t-shirt) and Noah’s large shorts. (They were rolled up at least 7 times.) It was really quite the outfit.

Central park was phenomenal.

The reservoir was absolute perfection…

…if not still a little dewy from the night before.

In all, I ran about 9 miles and felt great almost the entire time. The temperature was perfect, the park wasn’t too crowded, and my body felt generally strong, though I preferred the pavement to the Bridle Path. I even pushed myself up hills during the first 5 miles of the run, which is pretty much the only “speed work” I ever do.

When I got home, I spent the morning on my own whipping up a healthful lunch of chickpeas, Parmesan cheese, egg whites, black pepper and balsamic vinegar. Simple yet delicious, and with plenty of protein.

I headed out to Long Island in the early afternoon, equipped with everything I needed for a weekend of fun: a cold water bottle and a trashy gossip magazine (major guilty pleasure).

Once out there, I spent the day relaxing, eating larger-than-life blueberries…

…feasting on giant lobsters with my mom…

…and passing out before midnight. I slept nearly 10 hours on Saturday night and woke up ready to be lazy and sit on my ass all Sunday morning. Instead, my brother called me “lazy,” prompting me to put on my shorts, an old sports bra, and a pair of worn out running sneakers. I only ran 3 or 4 miles, but it was really calming to be in the suburbs, running without any music. Just me, myself, and the silence. It took a lot of energy to get myself out the door, but once I finished, I was certainly happy I did it.

One of my favorite parts about being at my parent’s house is the abundance of fresh ingredients. For my post-run lunch, I made myself a small salad of radicchio, cucumber, grilled portabella with roasted pepper, and half of a lobster tail from the night before. Take that, Manhattan cuisine.

The weekend ended with a major flashback; a totally 80′s themed party in celebration of my cousin’s birthday.

So there you have it. Lots of running, lots of alone time, lots of food, and a day in the suburbs of New York City. Not a bad way to recharge the old battery, if you ask me.

• How was your weekend? Any “me” time or lobster feasts?
• Have you ever foam rolled drunk?
• What’s your favorite part about the 80′s? (Mine = neon.)

I’m not exactly sure how many years I’ve been coming up to this small, mosquito-filled cabin on the lake now, because I know I had to take a year off here or there for other obligations. But let’s just put it this way: I didn’t even skip the trip on the weekend before my bat mitzvah – that requisite right of passage most 13 year old Jews are subjected to. It was a particularly cold, bitter year – our hands frozen as we cast each line out onto the lake. When it was all said and done, I returned home with a massive fever. My mom was pissed.

Fortunately, this was not one of those freakishly freezing years. Actually, it was the exact opposite – freakishly warm. And so, while I wasn’t necessarily planning on joining this year so that I could spend a few leisurely days in the city hanging out, as we drew closer to the weekend, my desire to return to the dingy little cabin I grew up in grew too.

On Thursday morning of last week, I called my brother. By noon, I was in. We figured out a way for me to easily get back from the city to my parent’s house, where he was driving from, and with that, my decision was made. Yep, I’d be heading to Lake Taconic for the 20-somethingth-time.

Even as I sit here writing, it’s virtually silent all around me – save for a really annoying fruit fly. Living in New York City, where I can’t even shut my eyes at night without hearing the roar of a truck or the beep of a car, these small moments away from the hustle are few but precious indeed.

I arrived dressed for the occasion, wearing a t-shirt featuring my dad’s fishing logo (one of my brothers had a logo made for him on father’s day a few years ago, and now we plaster everything with the orange and brown icon). Within minutes of driving up to the lake, I was completely overwhelmed with a sense of calm. The Type A part of me may have an insanely difficult time leaving my work behind and taking “personal days” or whatever, but my inner hippie was indescribably content once I stepped out of the car to be surrounded by this.

We spent the majority of the weekend fishing all over the small, glistening lake. The weather was perfect—if not maybe even a little too sunny and warm, and by the end of the day my legs and arms were totally burned tanned.

On the first day out there, I caught a bunch of nice sized pickerel, and then the smallest guy in the lake.

Overall, I was surprisingly able to maintain a relatively healthful intake of food which, for a trip that I used to look forward to for the abundance of bacon, burgers, steak, chips, Froot Loops, Entenmann’s cookies, Yodels, fruit snacks and Yoo-hoo, is probably one of the most incredible feats of all.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m healthy. I’m just not a total health freak, and I certainly indulged in a bite of steak, a few nibbles of bacon, and many, many Marshmallows over the course of the weekend.

On Friday, I ate a nutritious lunch of sliced pepper turkey, grilled veggies and fruit salad, followed by a dinner of grilled chicken, grilled veggies, coleslaw, mozzarella, and green beans. I even picked at a little red meat. (I never said I was good at portion control.)

On Saturday, I ordered a whole-wheat grilled cheese with tomato at the diner followed by a dinner of more grilled vegetables, mozzarella and coleslaw. I had the option to finish off some chicken from the night before, but chose to keep it meatless at the BBQ. Instead, I made a pit stop at the local orchard to grab peppers, zucchini, and asparagus, and created a little freshly grilled food fest that I topped off with avocado. Even the meat-eaters got in on it.

I know: A few of my dietary choices may seem out of character, and they probably require a quick explanation. Red meat? Chicken? Turkey? I thought Stacy was a pescatarian.

Well, that’s only partially true. The quick and easy explanation of my dietary habits is this:

I don’t count calories. I’m not scared of sugar (um, my dad owns a chocolate store). I definitely love my portions.

Because of all this, I find that it’s easiest – and more importantly, that I feel strongest and healthiest – when I maintain a primarily vegetarian diet with a little bit of fish every now and then (i.e. at a nice restaurant, when my mom cooks it, when I feel like whipping up a storm in the kitchen, etc.). I’m definitely not an animal rights activist (though I support all you who are), and so if “staying healthy” on a weekend of camping means noshing on sliced turkey and grilled chicken (two very healthy items I just happen not to eat on a regular basis), and maybe indulging in a few bites of delicious red meat, then sure, I’m game.

Adapting to this type of meatless lifestyle from that of a girl who once ate fried chicken and steak on a constant basis was not something that happened over night; it’s been a slow transition that began when I started running during my sophomore year of college and has simply become a way of life. I don’t think about it. I just do it. And I feel great because of it.

For several years, coming to Lake Taconic and figuring out how to balance what the boys were eating and what I was eating (did I mention that, most years, I’m the only girl?) was tough! If all of a sudden I didn’t want a kielbasa or 10, the guys were confused. If I didn’t scarf down 12 pieces of bacon, it was blasphemous.

Now, the men comply – and very well, I must say. When I decided to join my family this year, my brother called and asked if I wanted him to marinate a chicken breast for me; my dad gave me a ring from the deli asking what I’d like for the picnic.

Besides being well-nourished (Entenmann’s cookies are perfectly allowed on a weekend in the woods, by the way), I was able to get a second go at trail running.

My first attempt on the Greenbelt Trail wasn’t exactly a nightmare, but it wasn’t a walk in the woods (literal or figurative) either. The vertical inclines proved to be monstrous, and I felt tremendously unprepared the entire time. Yes, I had a great day, and was in no way discouraged from continuing to pursue the sport. I did, however, realize that I have a lot of training to do if I ever want to run trails comfortably and with any form of physical strength.

The short but nice trials of Upstate New York were perfect for this type of training. In all, I probably only ran between 3 and 4 miles at a time (a far cry from my typical 7 to 12-mile weekends as of late), but they were strong, concentrated courses that enabled me to work on my footwork, my speed and my conditioning when faced with such rocky, uneven and hilly terrain.

I guess the fact that concerns me the most at this point is that, even with such relatively flat conditions, I had a lot of difficulty maintaining a steady breath. Again, the pavement was a welcomed addition to the course, and yet dirt paths are supposed to be that much better for your body. I’m just not quite sure I get it.

The obvious answer may be that 2 weekends of trail running will most certainly not render you a seasoned, well-conditioned trail runner. I know this much is true. It’s just that, after running nearly everyday for 6 years and, in the last year alone, completing 3 half marathons, I really thought that I’d be much quicker to pick up this new and exciting alternative. Patience, grasshopper. Patience.

Anyway, despite my frustration, the trail was certainly beautiful.

Between the lake…

…the woods…

…shady pathways…

…small marshy outlets…

…and the beach…

…I was in pure heaven. For a few days, I found my happy place.

I’m so glad I made this last minute decision to spend the weekend at Lake Taconic with my dad and brother and, with amounting work and responsibility, feel better equipped to handle a lot of the load ahead of me. My calves are also crazy excited to hit the pavement again after 3 straight days of running on the trails.

Onwards and upwards!

• Trail runners: Did you find it challenging to make the change from pavement to dirt? What’s a good way to continue conditioning my body for trails? Small, easy to follow tips will be greatly appreciated. I’m all ears!
• What’s your go-to at a BBQ? Meat? Veggies? Are you a marshmallow hoarder like me?
• Do you have any annual trips you look forward to year after year after year?

I’m not big on birthdays, but if there was one thing I wanted to do on Friday morning as I turned a quarter of a century old, it was run. So that’s exactly what I did: an easy 5-mile run around the lower loop of Central Park.

Central Park was delicious as always, the sun shining bright as ever even though the rest of the day turned out to be on the cloudier side. 5 miles went by quickly, and before I knew it, I was heading back south toward my apartment.

The run was a winner for two reasons. For one, it was a fantastic way to begin my quarter life crisis. On another level, if you’re new to WRFG, Friday runs are simply one of my favorite ways to kick off a weekend. And it was a great weekend indeed.

To start, my mom and I share a birthday, and so it’s become somewhat customary to spend that special day together. Noah and I met my parents for dinner at Pylos, one of my favorite restaurants in all of New York City. Traditional Greek comfort food was a welcome meal following an indulgent night out with Noah at the Bourgeois Pig, where we shared drinks and a cheese plate…

…and Upstate in the East Village, where we dined on scallops with brown rice and mushroom risotto, crab cakes and kale, and oysters. (This was my fourth time trying oysters, and I’m still not crazy about them; actually, I don’t really get them at all. They taste like ocean.)

On Friday night, I met a handful of amazing friends out at a great little bar called Summit in Alphabet City and made a valiant attempt to maintain some level of sobriety and ultimately keep it classy. After all, I wanted to be able to run on Saturday morning.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been getting in some pretty hard core runs – 12 milers followed by 15 milers followed by many consecutive 5-plus mile days. So when I woke up on Saturday morning, I decided to take it slow – you know, lounge around the apartment and cook breakfast before even thinking about getting dressed (in a particularly girly, pink outfit at that). I also decided that, instead of anything aggressive, I’d make Saturday’s run a strictly fun one.

Noah agreed to run with me downtown to the Hester Street Fair, which was opening for the season. If you’re not one for giant, overwhelming markets, but love artisanal food and cute hipster finds, then the Hester Street Fair is for you.

The total distance was probably just around 4 miles, or maybe even a little less, but the primary portion of the run took us along the East River, and that alone was enough to satisfy my craving to be outdoors and in fresh air. I hadn’t taken such a short run in a few weeks, but in reality, that was exactly what I needed.

I figured that Sunday would be more of the same, and woke up early enough to get dressed and leave before Noah had even opened his eyes. My goal was to run between 3 and 5 miles, depending on how I felt, and to take in the sights on the High Line, which I hadn’t been to in months. It definitely didn’t disappoint.

Whereas the first mile, as I crossed from the east to the west side of Manhattan, wasn’t particularly special (my calves were unusually tight and I couldn’t shake my exhaustion), I started to pick up the pace somewhere in the middle of the High Line. At that point, I was finally feeling good – like, really good.

Maybe it was the music; Noah recently introduced me to Kaskade’s Coachella set (listen here), which completely blew my mind. All I want to do when I it is race, and run up big hills, and totally kick ass. (There was a time when it would have made me want to go to a rave, but see how far I’ve come?) This is going to be a playlist staple for weeks to come.

Or maybe, it was the warm sun and blue sky. Either way, I couldn’t help but begin to feel like I was walking on air. Or running on air. Whatever.

To be fair, I wasn’t moving quickly; I was simply moving contentedly. And so I kept going, making my way to the Hudson River and heading south on the West Side Highway.

When it was all said and done, I had squeezed 8 1/2 miles under my belt, managing to hit the Financial District, Tribeca, Soho and Gramercy. The official route:

After 2 solid days of delectable restaurant eats, I dedicated the rest of my weekend to preparing food in the comfort of my apartment – simple ingredients without the butter and salt. When I got home from Sunday’s early run, I enjoyed a much-needed, healthful breakfast of cucumbers, avocado (with a bit of black pepper), a hard boiled egg white, and a crab salad roll from Grand Central Station.

I spent the rest of the day taking in New York City the way it should be: on foot. Noah and I managed to get ourselves out of the apartment to enjoy the flawless weather, taking the ferry over to the Brooklyn Flea Market; I had never been and was dying to check it out. The day, the food, the shopping, and, above all, the views, were spectacular all around.

So yea, that’s it from me. Overall, this was an unbeatable few days. And while food, friends, and fun little purchases were the primary factors for why I enjoyed the weekend so much, at the end of the day, I was also completely taken aback by the freedom with which I ran. From Friday through today, there was no pressure. It was just me, New York City’s people-packed streets, and the sense of happiness that running has always – and hopefully will always – instill me with.

How was your weekend? Did you run? Race? PR? PDR? Take pretty pictures? Eat good food? Drink fine wine? Conclude that you still hate oysters? 

Depleted of every last morsel of energy following the More/Fitness Half Marathon (though I actually covered about 15 miles over the course of the day), I knew I needed to eat—and stat. Before the race, I always toast up half a healthy muffin and save the other half for my return home, and as routine as my pre-race breakfast has become, my post-race habits are becoming pretty ritual too.

Naturally, the first thing I did when I stumbled into my apartment was grab the muffin crumbs left haphazardly on the chopping block outside my tiny New York City closet kitchen. Next, I spotted the remnants of Levain’s Bakery cookies on the living room table. (Noah bought 3 of them on Saturday knowing that I’d be in dire need of sugar and calories by Sunday morning. And because my half marathon was a good excuse for him to pig out too.) While I didn’t exactly inhale the cookies, it felt incredible to take a small bite into something of substance. With control, I ate small chunk and saved the rest for after my shower, making sure not to make myself sick with a sugar binge following a 15-mile run in heat.

The shower was energizing in itself, but I knew that washing the salt from my face wouldn’t be enough to recharge my batteries. I needed vegetables—and lots of them—so we naturally hopped in a cab and headed down to Westville, my go-to restaurant for a nourishing brunch when I’m craving local, delicious ingredients.

I get it; a lot of people prefer something more fun than a giant green salad after a long, sweaty run. Me? I’m a sugar and vegetable freak, and there is nothing more unappealing to me after a serious workout than a burger and fries. Noah and I ordered a platter of artichoke hearts with Parmesan cheese, Dijon Brussels sprouts, roasted beets with goat cheese, and sautéed kale. For myself, I got an arugula and Parmesan salad tossed with avocado and olive oil. And I may have stolen a few fries off of Noah’s plate—after his own 6-mile run on Sunday morning, he obviously ordered man food.

Not surprisingly, I was only able to eat about half of my brunch (along with a mint lemonade and Prosecco smoothie, topped off with extra bubbly—thanks, kind bartender). Also not surprisingly, after walking about a mile or so home, I was famished again—and coming down with a serious migraine. 3 Advil and a nap later, I opened up my leftovers and devoured the contents of the to-go container.

Just a couple of hours later, by the time dinner rolled around, I was absolutely starving again. Restaurant food could not have sounded less appealing though—I needed something home-cooked, less salty and simpler than anything a chef could turn out. I also knew I needed something with protein, but I wasn’t in the mood for meat (and hardly ever am). The result? Quinoa! And flaxseed pizza! (Can you sense my excitement?)

I know – after a 15-mile run that’s what all of you want to eat. I’m not sure when I made the transition from T-bone steak devourer to bird-like eater, but to spare you any more rambling, I’ll just get to it. If you’re a health nut like myself and have a particularly strong penchant for hippie grains and ersatz Italian food, this is how it’s done. Best of all, these two dishes can usually be whipped up with whatever ingredients you already have lying around. Cheap, easy, delicious—exactly what I aim for on a Sunday night after running an expensive New York Road Runner’s race.

Stacy’s Simple Quinoa + Veggie Salad

If you have olive oil, black pepper, a lemon, quinoa (I prefer red because it has more nutrients), and arbitrary vegetables (canned or fresh) in your apartment, then you can fix this up within 15 minutes.

Step 1 – Cook your quinoa (I use 2 parts water to 1 part quinoa, though I usually end up spilling out some water, so you may want to ignore this direction).

Step 2 – Chop your veggies (or drain your canned veggies) and toss into a bowl. I like my vegetables to be finely sliced, but this is really preferential. To keep dinner on the cheap, I stuck to leftover vegetables from the weekend, so my quinoa salad featured tomatoes and red peppers. I sometimes like to add chickpeas, cucumbers and even chopped arugula.

Step 3 – Toss the vegetables in a light coating of olive oil and black pepper (to taste). Optional: I also sometimes add a drop of either red wine vinegar or balsamic vinegar; not both together though.

Step 4 – Once the quinoa is done, drain any excess water and dump the grains on top of your veggies. It’s ok if it’s still warm. At this point, squeeze the lemon in (watch out for seeds!) and mix.

Step 5 – This is critical. Taste your concoction. Does it need more pepper or olive oil? Take this opportunity to make sure the blend of ingredients tastes right. I’m not one for measuring, so step 5 is essential for me.

Stacy’s Fake Healthy Pizza For Lame, Non-Pizza Eaters

What you’ll need: Mozzarella cheese (I prefer part skim), Parmesan cheese, tomato sauce (Rao’s is the best, but it’s expensive, so if you can’t steal a jar from your mom’s house—thanks mom—and are on a budget, any type will do), Damascus Bakery’s whole-wheat and flax roll-ups. I’ve been loving these wraps lately, introduced to me by my cousin. You can seriously put anything on them—Mexican, Italian, peanut butter and jelly.

Step 1: Place a wrap on tin foil. (Note: I did not, and almost ended up with a burnt toaster oven when the cheese melted onto the coils. Tin foil = important. Trust me.)

Step 2: Pour tomato sauce all over within an inch of the edge of the wrap. The extra space helps to prevent spillage, though I suppose if you’re using aluminum foil, that doesn’t really matter.

Step 3: Place a mixture of Parmesan and mozzarella cheese on top of the tomato sauce. This is up to you and your taste buds—be as cheesy or as non-cheesy as you like here.

Step 4: Toast. Or use the broiler. Both work.

Step 5: Enjoy! I know it’s not the real deal, but after running for 2+ hours, I find it really important to replenish my body with real, whole foods. And while it might not be from Ray’s or some other hole in the wall in the East Village, it’s definitely pretty tasty either way.

I need to spread my meals out in order to create a constant flow of food into my body after a race or long run. Do you find that it’s difficult to eat in quantity after running far? What are your post-race eating rituals and what’s your favorite food to chow down? (Burgers? I swear, I don’t judge. I once loved them – they just didn’t love me!)