50 Shades of Green

As an introspective person, I’ve often thought about the importance of running in my life and how it should fit into who I am as a person and a professional. And in doing so, I’ve come up with a spectrum of runner identities.

Professional runner....semi-professional runner/professional “other”..... casual runner/professional "other"..... retired runner.

Now, as an impulsive, fast-thinker, I’ve probably experienced most of these identities over the course of a week searching for the proverbial greener grass.

The good news from my experience is that the grass is pretty green everywhere. The bad news is that there are some major flaws in all of that grass. As a professional runner, that hamstring injury is equivalent to a yappy dog taking a large crap on your perfectly manicured, already precisely (hopefully not chemically) fertilized lawn. As a retired runner, the grass was once a nostalgic and sharp Crayola “forest green” hue, but is now overgrown, in the rejected and dull Crayola “asparagus” color.

Asparagus, you are even too dull for 50 Shades of Green.

Stick with me as I outline the basics of each identity. I promise that I can only be pessimistic for a few minutes, so either speed read, skim, or skip ahead to my optimism.

The Professional Runner:

Perhaps you are a professional runner who is 30 and has pursued running since finishing up a collegiate career. It’s been 8 years of 100+ mile weeks and the money is tighter than your IT band. While your college friends are now driving Porsches, you are just worried about whether you are going to get reimbursed from your sponsor for the 2001 Chevy Impala you rented in Fargo, North Dakota for your last race. While setting an unbelievable PR in the indoor 2 mile a few weeks ago, you still finished dead last in a stacked race.

Okay, perhaps you are of the .00000000005% of runners who runs for the Oregon Project. You don’t have to worry about that rent-a-car, but if you finish fifth in a stacked race, that rent-a-car employee is just going to laugh in your face. To the public, winning is an expectation, not a celebration.

The Semi-Professional Runner, The Professional Other:

The alarm goes off at 4:30 AM followed by a string of expletives, as a tired, stiff body mechanically downs coffee and heads out the door for that 13 mile, marathon pace tempo. The sunrise is beautiful, but the mile splits are ugly. You know you could be seconds faster. If only. If only you slept more last night. If only you didn’t stand on your feet in the operating room all day yesterday. You know you are not at your full running potential. Too many damn if only’s. 

Skip ahead, a whole 3-minute shower later. You are standing in a white coat trying to keep your eyes open when you see a patient’s eyes roll behind their head for several seconds. Wow, how could you have cared so much about those precious marathon pace seconds this morning?

When you wake up the next morning for your 200s, those seconds are just as important.

Casual Runner & Professional Other:

You need something to justify your passion for running to your co-workers who are constantly second-guessing your obsession. You can just imagine them talking behind your back—how can you be so into running when you are not a slender beanpole? Why don’t you eat more you slender beanpole? How can you turn down drinks at the corporate function because your long run is tomorrow? People just don’t understand your love for the daily joy of running. You know that perhaps an accomplishment will squash the questioning. A half marathon PR is just not going to happen right now. All right, you’re going to count finishing as an accomplishment. Time for an ultra-marathon.

Retired Runner:

Oh, those glory days. You remember the times when running felt so free. Your high school PRs and your college PRs came so easily. After years and years of mileage, your body is ravaged. Those creaky hips can no longer manage proper running form, let alone proper sitting form. You’re still a fan, perhaps a coach. Kids are getting faster and running earlier. Oh, where is this sport going?

----------------------------

Now that’s a whole lot of pessimism. The moral of that outline, however, is that running is hard no matter how you define yourself as a runner. The grass is not greener in any one identity--it’s simply different, so stop searching. The simple beauty of running is that it’s hard. And that it’s hard in unique ways for everyone.

The answer to embracing that struggle is to find the simple pleasures in running (#cliche), which are possible in similar ways for every runner. It’s embracing a beautiful sunrise, which every morning runner experiences, whether at 10 mph or 2 mph. It’s choosing to go to bed at 8 PM because you have a long run the next morning, whether at 5 AM or 9 AM. Mostly though, it’s just supporting each other as runners. Regardless of identity (or fluctuating identity for those impulsive folks) we are all runners. Our running stories are important no matter what, and so is our post race beer.

This has to be substantially greater than 50 Shades of Crayola Green.

A 2 Week Run/Bike Trial...I Want Out. Love, Quads

So I entered the world of biking (or the indoor training equivalent for the non-bike owner) for a solid two weeks. I already want out. Don’t get me wrong, I love biking and I’ve been an avid biker since my first set of hot wheels at age three. In fact, my favorite summer was the one I spent in Boulder on my 29er mountain bike hauling my injured self up mountains, windy passes, and rocky trails.

Post Independence Pass Climb (35 miles with 3,100 ft of elevation gain). Not going to lie, this was amazing.

But do you know what else is amazing?

A 5:30 AM Rancho Park 13 Mile Trail Run

And unfortunately, I can’t do that right now. There is zero chance I could get to the top of that 1,200 ft hill right now. I can’t even walk down the stairs. I couldn’t even scale to the top of the daunting 40-meter hill on my flat 10 mile run on two cups of coffee this morning.

Now even though my quads feel like they got bit from stationary bike venom, I understand that there is a learning curve to biking. In a few weeks that feeling will probably subside on the off chance that I didn’t over train from this biking and running combo. Pain is temporary. But do you know what lasts forever? Hulking, one thousand pound quads. I’m only halfway there—maybe 500 pound quads at the moment; however, in this half-limbo state I already feel slower. There’s a reason why elite runners don’t bike consistently. Try hauling those quads over 13.1 or 26.2 miles or even just a 5k. The physics just aint happening.

Now for the best part of this biking rant: the equipment. To start, you don’t just need a bike. You need a bike rack, an aero helmet, pedals, shoes, speedometer/power meter, aero bars, and for a busy med student like me, an indoor trainer. That doesn’t even include the bike. But when you buy a bike do you realize that you are only buying a half a bike? Yeah, those wheels, they are no good. In order to actually compete you need aero wheels.

The cost. Dear god. Where do I start? Walk into a bike store and you are always buying an inferior bike. Supposedly, someone is always going to ride faster than you because their crankset weighs 0.5 ounces less. And not only that, but I guarantee you the person is definitely going to tell you about their expensive crankset. And all about their slow PRs. Now if only I could tell them the truth-- 0.5 ounces is small meat compared to the meat on their abdomen. If only they rode more and talked less that whole meat issue might be solved.

The last issue is safety. On my run this morning, I was on a back road listening to music and unfortunately crossed the street without looking over my shoulder. It was stupid. I narrowly avoided an oncoming car. It was a product of being in the moment of my run and Lady Gaga; however, if that happened on a bike, I would not be sitting here. I know too many friends and athletes who have been seriously injured on the bike, some from stupid decisions like my own, and several from fluke, unavoidable accidents. Every day at Duke I ran the Sally Meyerhoff fitness loop. From stories that I’ve heard she was an incredible person—spunky, bright, full of energy, and loving. Her tragedy sheds light on the importance of bike safety and highlights the danger of unlucky bike accidents. 

Now some might say I am fickle for abandoning this grand plan of racing duathlons. I don’t care. For me, happiness is running like the wind, not against the wind on an out and back ten-miler. I’m not sure at the moment what running races I will use to replace the duathlons, but I am excited to be fast and to feel competitive.  

Also, I probably just saved five grand. That is a lot of frozen yogurt.

 

The Blog is Back!

The. Blog. Is. Back. Why do periods make everything so much more exciting? I imagine they teach us that at some point in med school.

Anyways, I briefly started this blog two years ago after field hockey ended as a way to share my pictures and thoughts on life’s awesome adventures. However, shortly after field hockey ended I picked up an extra year to run track and figured that my blogging would probably violate NCAA rules in about ten different ways. To start, the NCAA probably would not appreciate that my fifth year was largely spent reading large quantities of fiction and non-fiction unrelated to school, as well as training a puppy…

... and clearly having a lot of success at both

Then med school started and I was unsure about the ethics behind establishing a blog and having a professional career looming about eight years down the road. I’ve learned though that there seems to be a clear ethical line —just do not post pictures of human brains. This is actually taken from our Neuro syllabus. I may need to cite that.

However, for those of you who are curious about what we see in medical school, there are often references to food. For example, yesterday in class, we saw a picture of a carotid artery that looked exactly like this… though not exactly, mind you, THIS IS NOT REAL.

LASGNA. Okay, yes, that green garnish was not there. But that, my friends, is a big hunk of atherosclerosis in a carotid artery. Be kind to your arteries. Do not eat crap day in and day out. Maybe just day in, please?

Which transitions me to med school. I love it. My classmates are incredible people who are absolutely brilliant. The professors are renowned and have an unbelievable, natural passion for medicine. Plus, the coursework is quite fascinating. There is only one frustrating part--I feel like it’s common for med students to have an air of effortless perfection. Granted, for some of my really, really brilliant classmates, it may actually be effortless, but for the rest of us, it actually takes a great deal of effort. I’ve worked incredibly hard this year, and I’m proud of that. Plus, I enjoy the effort. In my mind, the morning 5:30 AM moon viewed from the medical school fourth floor is pretty darn special.

With my medical school obligations down to a science, it’s time to start recording my epic adventures. Or, to be cheesy, to #AdventureHard. How can you keep a domain name like that inactive? That is horrendously ironic. Or how can you refrain from hash tagging that greatness?

Last year was pretty awesome on the adventure front. California has amazing trails and I had the privilege to race for New Balance Silicon Valley, which involved traveling to some real (read mud, snow, ice) XC races and entering some fast road races. I also had my fair share of random Podunk races with pumpkin or frosty themed names.

Textbook Podunk Race

And slightly more legit...1:16 at Rock n'  Roll San Jose Half Marathon

I also got engaged to my adventure partner-in-crime in August. #AdventureHard4Lyfe --> my 13 year old self would have been really excited about this hashtag and somewhat astonished that I would actually meet someone like David. At some point this year, David is moving out to California and I couldn’t be more excited to get to spend every day with my best friend. Our wedding plans are currently TBD, but we have already agreed on the most important aspect—cake. And beer. There will be both, and they will be well sampled ahead of time.

My bling is tastier than yours.

This year the race schedule is going to focus on trails (I hope to qualify for the US Mountain Running Team), but also incorporate a nice mix of biking and duathlons. I’ve spent a solid three days on the stationary bike creating rivers of sweat on the Stanford gym floor and I’m excited to take my training to epic California hill climbs. My general life philosophy: go up. Currently I'm hindered by the logistical issue of acquiring a competitive bike, but in the meantime I will continue being an electrical hazard in the gym.

Unfortunately, I have a hazardous lifestyle. 

Here’s the race schedule—tentative of course. I promise there will be more running road races and probably some Podunk fillers.

Feb 8 – Golden Gate Trail Half: CA

Mar 8 – Morgan Hill Intl Duathlon: CA (aka figure out what the heck I am doing)

Apr 7 – Golden Bears Duathlon: CA

May 18 – Long Course Duathlon National Championships: Cary, NC

July 6^th – US Mountain Running Championships: NH

July 19^th – Duathlon National Championships: MN

Aug 23^rd – US Trail Half Marathon Championships: WA

Sept 13^th – Mt. Tam Bike Hill Climb Time Trial: CA

Dec 7^th – Xterra Trail Running World Championship: HI

Wow, if you made it this far you are amazing. Thanks for reading!

Drafting...Or Not

I distinctly remember being six years old and biking the Schuykill River Trail with my dad. The first time I rode the trail I was determined to complete all thirty miles of the out and back course on my pink, sparkly bike with a single gear and shiny streamers. I wanted to take the lead and feel the rush of the wind in my face. That’s the best part right? Little did I know that my dad was drafting (or receiving some sort of wind blockage from a tiny six year old). 

It’s now sixteen years later and little has changed. I have no clue how to lube a chain. I couldn’t tell you where the derailer (is this even on a bike?) is located. And I have a helmet that could fit a doll. Most of all, I still love to hammer on the bike – into the wind, up mountains, and in the lead – always at top speed and maximum effort.

Now though, I have a partner in crime in my biking adventures. David and I are two equally stubborn, equally adventurous personalities. The result? We share the lead and cover incredible Colorado courses in record mountain bike time. Plus, he occasionally reminds me to drink and informs me of obvious biking techniques. Large chain ring for going down big hills? Duh, Megan.

We have covered epic bike routes (especially when considering our mountain bikes, and dear god, my 29er). The list is forever growing and will hopefully continue well into the summer even through Philadelphia and Durham.

1. Boulder Sunrise Century: 100 Miles, 7,000 feet of climbing. All starting at 6 AM. (OK, this is the only route where we rented road bikes). I learned how to eat a Clif bar in four seconds and learned that if you put Cytomax in a Camelback, you should really clean it out immediately. I also learned that David is not a camel. We were chasing the lead riders and bypassed every water station after mile 57. Considering I was the second rider in and David the fourth, it paid off, but David had some dark, dehydrated last few miles.

2. Magnolia Road: 36 miles round trip from Boulder, but 2,170 ft of climbing in 4.5 very painful miles. The key on 25% switchbacks is to listen for cars (actually Mom, I checked my shoulder three times) and then to take the middle of the road. Otherwise, it’s possible to run out of gears and fall in the bushes on the side of the road. I learned this last year.

3. From Idaho Springs up Mt. Evans – 6,000 feet of climbing in 28 miles. 100 degrees at the base and 50 degrees at the top. 55 mph sustained winds. Check out those numbers. It was crazy. I was lucky to have a 29er because I may have been blown sideways off the mountain.

The Last Switchback - Best Moment Ever

4. Left Hand Canyon to Brainard Lake – 5,000 feet of climbing in 32 miles. We did this as a second workout on a two-a-day. What were we thinking? I am pretty sure I swore on every switchback.

Drafting Fail... Battling for the Lead

5. Aspen to the top of Independence Pass – 4,500 feet of climbing in 20 miles. My heart rate was too high to contemplate drinking. David, however, had to pee. My response - “too bad, pee your pants.” We were going for a record mountain bike time.

Random Trail We Found at the Top of the Pass

6. Rio Grande Trail – 1,500 feet of climbing in 27 miles. After all of our climbing, I thought this was flat; however, google informed me otherwise. The first four miles around Aspen are hectic. Fortunately David was well versed in “ON YOUR LEFT” because we may have destroyed a small child at top speed. Or an Aspen lady biking a $6,000 bike with sandals, no helmet, and curled hair. What’s worse would be endangering her much older, questionably degenerating husband.

For now, those are the highlights. I have inherited some espresso gel shots from my dad, so the biking adventures should become more entertaining in the next few weeks.

Thanks for reading! You guys are awesome (Mom, Dad, David, maybe four friends?)

Ketchup Time

I think I mentioned in my first blog post that I started my blog because I was anticipating being bored in the coming weeks. Somehow though, I have been incredibly busy and have been keeping myself remarkably entertained. Alas, I need to catch up on my blogging.

Here is what I have been up to in the last couple of weeks:

1. Graduation – On an adventure front, I split a 15 minute 200 meter to reach my seat in the stadium. I also had two clif bars stashed in my gown in awkward places. Fortunately, gowns are not form fitting, and chocolate brownie breast implants are remarkably even. Except after I ate the first clif during the student speaker.

Find me? Where's Waldo for Stalkers

 At my neuroscience graduation I am pretty sure the announcer secretly thanked my parents for my pronounceable first name and simple, yet comical, middle name of Daisy. After many difficult name pronunciations, followed by “wrote a thesis on 5RQ1TRP Channel on Apflyksia Trystonia,” my simplicity was a nice intermission.

2. ECACs (East Coast Championships) – My whole family got to come out to the race and experience their first track meet! After watching many of the steeple chasers puke and fall flat on their face before my race started, my family accepted my simple pants-peeing with relief. I forgot to ask my splits and I still don’t know them, but considering I heard a whole bunch of 85 second 400 splits for the first mile and a half, I think the last half/third of the 5k was as quick as it felt. I wound up running a 16:32 in a very tactical race to take 3^rd.  

3. NCAAs – DNF. Ugh. More than anything in my life I hate those three letters strung together. This was actually my first DNF in any race, rep, run, or event, ever. I was having foot pain for a week leading up to the race and just ran on the Alter-G treadmill before the race. I am pretty sure I have a huge pain tolerance because I couldn’t even feel my foot during the race, but I literally just could not land on my right foot. After 4 miles, I became concerned about shattering my metatarsal bones. Alas, I stepped off.

It’s funny that I initially felt relief after seeing the X-Ray a couple of days later. I have stress fractures in my second and third metatarsals and a reaction in the fourth. I guess in my mind it justified the horrifying DNF letters.  However, the relief lasted a mere hour - I spent the next three locked in my room throwing a massive temper tantrum. Mature, I know. I could have even logged the temper tantrum in my training log. My heart rate probably exceeded standard pool running maximums.  

My NCAA takeaway – 1. Don’t run with stress fractures 2. Run an all out 100 meter dash at the start of the 10k to avoid the mess of 48 people in a track start. Then slow down to 90 second pace and force a tactical race.

Again - Where's Waldo? This absurdity resembles a graduation procession in speed.

 5. Apartment Re-doing – This involved creating three piles for everything in the apartment: 

      1. Why in the world is this here? – no one should ever be subjected to this – TRASH

             Examples – David’s wolf shirt. Musty Firewood. 2009 Mustard.

      2. Goodwill donations

Examples – 2^nd grader pjamas. Animal Hats.

     3. Things to bring back home.

Examples – Racing arm warmers.

We did, however, find a street sign that said “no ball playing allowed.” This was spared from all three piles and now hangs in the bathroom.

6. Cooking – read ketchup and kale.

7. Epic amounts of reading – Life of Pi, Wild, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Hunger Games Trilogy, A Long Way Gone. Part of the apartment re-doing comes with creating a library composed mostly of used books acquired from second hand stores. No matter how cheap a book is on an iPad or Kindle, I just won’t do it. Hmm, literally.

Although I'm in Boulder, I promise (Mom, Dad - this is for you) that I'm not a free-lovin' soul. I just found this hilarious.

I’m in Colorado at the moment and will post more adventures as they occur! Mostly in the form of epic bike climbs until my foot heals up. Thanks for reading!

Love and Baseball

My love for baseball was first sparked at a young age in tee-ball and continued into my early retirement from competitive little league. I retired on top – a solid 1.00 batting average on the tee-ball year. 1 for 1 on the plate, with 100 outfield dandelions fielded, 12 cool ranch Doritos bags consumed, and about 15 temper tantrums before at-bat attempts. Unfortunately, the start of baseball coincided with my stubborn five year old ways and my flat out refusal to participate in any sort of social event, which included school, birthday parties, and play dates. Although I never returned to playing baseball, my parents’ perseverance (still evident in the numerous books entitled Your Difficult Child that line our bookshelves) enabled me to return to other sports a few years later.

Alas, I became a little league fan and frequently attended my brother’s games. Some parents would line the fence hollering at their sons to slide, in a tone more appropriate for exclaiming, “Don’t hit your sister over the head with a 2 x 4.” Other parents and fans would stand passively, continuously promoting a little league time limit. I simply busied myself consuming water ice and attempting dangerous playground feats. Even though I still couldn’t differentiate between shortstop and second base, I was an avid spectator. If only for the water ice.

Somewhere around this time I began to follow the Phillies. As a dedicated Phillies fan, I assumed a natural loathing for the Braves. In first grade music class, I refused to sing the line of the national anthem – “home of the Braves” – thinking that Francis Scott Key was not giving the Phillies adequate justice.

Still though, it’s the time spent watching baseball with family and friends that I seem to love most about the sport. I distinctly remember my dad’s prediction at a Phillies game that Ryan Howard would hit a 6ft x 6 ft Bud Light sign in right field at the next at bat. Sure enough, next swing later, clonk. And, naturally, five minutes later, the click of a Bud Light can. I’m pretty sure that when Bud Light is on the line, probability goes out the window. And so does Natty. (Not that I ever really have either. However, I’m currently stocked on almond milk, pedialyte, and Gatorade. A pre-race party is in store.)

Despite four years of being in Durham, last weekend was my first experience at a Durham Bull’s game. David and I managed to perfectly maneuver a three-hour rain delay by going for a second run, eating dinner, and grabbing ice-cream. In order to keep our sporting event tradition strong, we started our game-watching with a continuous, entertaining critique on the players (only fair if it’s give and take though, please do the same when we are running.)     

I’m pretty sure that some of the most entertaining moments of the evening included the dual occurrence of sprinkler delays and rain delays. The sprinkler delay actually lasted about five minutes, and started mid-pitch, while the rain delay was a good bit more formidable and wound up canceling the game. Now that we have redeemable tickets we’ll definitely be back. If only for Rita’s water ice. 

Sprinkler Delay - 2nd Base Stayed Ready and Low the Entire Time

Durham's Weather Radar: Giant Red Blob

Pro-Kras-Ti-Nating 2.0

I should probably add a footnote to my list on class absences.

* Things that you do indeed learn from attending class: the correct date of the final exam. I would have benefited from this knowledge when I received an email Wednesday at 1 PM informing me that my exam was at 7 PM on Wednesday night. I thought the exam was Thursday night. 

No worries though. I don't think that an extra day would have helped me on this exact exam question:

(Pretty much the same exact diagram)

Describe this structure and process development. 

Now I am assuming there are very few neuroscientists in my blog audience (maybe 9 by now? Please?) 

Regardless, they better accept several answers. I could make a neuroscience argument for axon, dendrite, spinal cord...

However, they never specified neuronal, so technically they should also accept phallus, nail, and witch hat with a graphic description with how to develop each structure.