Skip to content

More Hot Fun

A former classmate of Little Boy’s comes from money; her parents hosted a pre-school graduation party that, frankly, put every other parent to shame. “What the heck are they going to do when she graduates high school?” we whispered to each other as we eyed the bounce house and furtively nibbled at the catered spread under the tent canopy while watching the hired Spiderman and Cinderella impersonators cavort with our children:

The Cinderella picture reminds me of a picture taken last weekend, when we traveled to Pennsylvania and visited the Lancaster County cousins. Little Boy has a phalanx of beautiful young blond female cousins, all of whom have ardent affection for their contemporary boy cousin:

As usual, Pennsylvania was an action-packed long weekend of family fun and adventures. Mr. P and I managed to go on a date. A trail race date, that is. Because if given the choice between relaxing in matrimonial solitude with a bottle of wine and plates of pork belly confit atop caramelized kohlrabi…. or running 30K in a buggy, humid Pennsylvania forest on a Sunday morning… apparently we are deranged enough to choose the latter.

Enter the Double Trouble 15K or 30K in French Creek State Park. It’s a race put on by Pretzel City Sports, a PA-based organization that Mr. P and I are totally fans of. Fun, challenging races with a charismatic race director who has twice had the opportunity to tell me “Train harder” because I keep placing in fourth.

I took on the 30K, which reduced me to a squishy, sweaty mess. (Not nearly as squishy or sweaty as the VT 100K will in 10 days, so it’s all in good practice).

Thumbs Down near the Finish Line -- because I'm sweaty ;-(

Where is the freaking finish?

Seriously, my Garmin says 19.2 miles... WHERE IS THE FINISH?

Posted in Existence.

Tagged with , , , .

Comments Off on More Hot Fun

By Meredith – July 10, 2013

Hot Fun in the Summertime

I’m getting behind on posting about all of the fun summer things we’re doing, probably because we’re so busy doing fun summer things.

It’s… a vicious cycle of fun!

After dinner, you can usually find us romping on the local playground/rec field

So far it’s been a wet, humid, overly disgusting summer.

I’m running the Vermont 100K in less than 3 weeks so I’ve been training in the humidity as much as I can. Oh, bother. This type of weather kills me but I’m fully expecting Vermont to be as hot and sticky as a trail runner’s toe blister guard. According to most training plans, right now I should be “peaking” in my training and beginning to taper, but there’s an 18-mile trail race I want to do next weekend. And anyway, since I’ve been unable to do hardly any elevation training, I figure Vermont’s going to be one long uphill-downhill hike anyway.

More than a week ago on my long run on the local running trail, I tripped over a rock and fell pretty hard. Perhaps I wasn’t picking up my feet high enough due to residual lower-leg fatigue from the TARC 50… but, pride compels me to instead blame the overgrown grass on the side of the trail that obscured the rock that caught my left toe. I was going slightly downhill, slightly faster than I normally go, and my legs just couldn’t catch myself before I sailed resolutely into a concentrated field of other rocks.

I landed hard. Pain screamed from my left leg, my left arm, and my left hip. I momentarily thought I broke something. I panicked — I was 5 miles from home on a very unused trail (the mountain bikers have abandoned me now that prickly summer berry bushes are crowding the thin single-track of dirt trail). I pictured myself crawling to the nearest road and flagging down a passing car. Luckily, after a few minutes of examining, jabbing, and experimenting, I was able to stand and even run home. I was very lucky on the fall — judging by the configuration of cuts and bruises, I had avoided slamming multiple vital bones on pointy rocks by mere centimeters. The worst injury was on my left shin, a deep but small cut that throbbed and gushed blood through my compression sleeves but narrowly missed gauging my tibia.

Did I mention this happened the morning of Little Boy’s 5th birthday???

Though no bones were broken, this fall was the worst of my trail running career by far. I was scared enough that I resolved never to go trail running again without a cell phone. So on last Saturday’s 13-mile trail run (16 was planned, but the oppressive humidity causes me to run short of water quite early) I was able to snap pictures of the Western Greenway Trail, my bread-and-butter training trail that I truly consider “mine” because A: it’s 1.5 miles from my front door and B: I rarely see anyone except the dog-walkers and light-hikers within a half-mile of the parking area (since the mountain bikers have abandoned me until the autumn…)

I will be the first to admit that I look pretty bad in this picture. I had no idea that running in my glasses made me look like such a huge nerd! but I rarely put in my contacts for early morning runs. I’m posting this unflattering picture to prove that, despite my beguiling pics from the TARC 50, trail running isn’t all glamor and beauty:

This is my trail. After my fall and fears of bone fracturing… after hearing my near-daily complaints about bug bites, cobwebs, mud, paranoia about strangers and poison ivy (which I don’t even seem to be allergic to, given that I’ve never had it despite all my time in the woods — if genetics are a factor, then thank you Dad!)… Mr. P wonders, why don’t I just go 100% road running? This is what he’s done. He’s decided that trail running isn’t for him, and whenever I do manage to get him on a trail, he’ll complain for weeks after that he incurred an injury from the uneven terrain and look pointedly at me whenever he gets the ice pack from the freezer.

But I can’t give up my trail. I’m convinced it makes me stronger, both physically and mentally. I will brave the humidity, the insects/ticks, the overgrown berry bushes, and all the perilous hazards of trail running for the yielding ground, the whipping leaves, the calming peace that restores me after a trail run. This is my trail, and I can only hope my body stays strong and healthy enough to be worthy of it.

My trail (at its best)

Posted in Existence.

Tagged with .

Comments Off on Hot Fun in the Summertime

By Meredith – July 2, 2013

Party like a 5 Year Old

Last week we celebrated Little Boy’s 5th birthday with a pool party for him and 16 of his closest friends.

The Boys
Splash!

Oh, the fun. After one hour of romping in the pool, the kids emerged, got dressed, and headed into the party room for pizza, fruit, and cake. What a life, these kids.

Partying Like Rockstars
Raising his hand for fruit punch while amusing his BFF

Little Boy wanted a Transformer cake. He received probably the wildest and loudest rendition of “Happy Birthday” I have yet to hear at one of these kiddie b-days. It was so loud, his other BFF covered his ears and cowered while Little Boy subdued the cake fire.

Of course, the best part was when we got home and unleashed Little Boy upon his 16 presents. It was like Christmas. It was better than Christmas. It was enough Legos to build a life-sized cabin.

The Birthday Haul

Primus the kitty-cat had a pretty good time with the bows, ribbons, bags, and wrapping. Little Boy received so many presents that he didn’t even question where OUR birthday present to him was. Or maybe he actually remembered that it is, in fact, the kitty-cat.

Posted in Existence.

Tagged with .

rev="post-8809" 1 comment

By Meredith – July 1, 2013

Pics from Tarc 50 Miler

One week ago, I was finishing up the TARC 50 Miler… I’m now almost fully recovered from running 50 miles with about a pound of water and mud in my shoes, which definitely tweaked the muscles around my ankles. I have been mostly swimming, though I went for a slowww 7 mile run on Wednesday and then a 2 mile shakeout jog on Thursday. Training for the Vermont 100K resumes in about ten minutes.

Photos taken during the race were subsidized courtesy of GU, who makes those disgusting yet vital Chomps energy chews that have gotten me through so many long runs.

Looking at this finish-line photo, I’m reliving the quandary: running made every muscle in my legs groan, yet walking made me want to vomit. If I stopped running, would my digestive system finally muster the blood flow to regurgitate 12 hours of GU?

No, it didn’t. Though I’m sure they would have taken a photo of that, too…

Finish line

Posted in Existence.

rev="post-8785" 1 comment

By Meredith – June 22, 2013

Preschool Graduation

Today was Little Boy’s preschool graduation ceremony. We laughed, we cried, we listened to the kids tentatively sing “Blackbird” and “Here Comes the Sun.”

Pomp and Circumstance

Little Boy was right in the front, relishing in the revelry.

So proud of himself!

Posted in Existence.

Tagged with .

Comments Off on Preschool Graduation

By Meredith – June 21, 2013

TARC 50 Miler 2013

I ran 50 miles last Friday night. I really did! It took me 12 hours, 10 minutes, so I was basically running from 7pm until 7am. Sounds crazy, but the TARC 50 miler was the wussy-option for Massachusetts’ first 100 mile race, the TARC 100 miler… so, there were people exponentially more crazy than me out there.

First: EPIC mud. The last few weeks of rain, including at least three days of heavy downpours, left the normally-bucolic course in Weston, MA extremely muddy, with vast stretches of knee-deep mud that runners had no choice but to trudge through. By mile 3, my sneakers, socks, and feet were soaked — and they remained wet for the next 47 miles.

The mud actually caused 60% of the runners in both the 50m and 100m to drop out — from twisted ankles, from fatigue, from pure mental wear. Had I known that so many people were dropping out, I probably would have joined the ranks… especially at around 3am, around mile 32, when my hips were sore and I became slightly nauseous and unable to eat any solid food. The nighttime stomping through mud and water, which a few hours before seemed really cool and fun, was becoming tedious to say the least.

Epic Mud (courtesy of another runner) -- imagine it at night!

At one aid station, I surveyed the selection of pizza, brownies, cookies, and candy with hunger for calories subdued by vague nausea. The volunteer — who happened to be one the premier ultrarunners in New England — asked me what I needed. “I’m losing the ability to eat, so maybe some Ginger Aid?” I was asking for Ginger Ale, but I was so delirious I kept calling it Ginger Aid. Do’oh. In addition to giving me a cup of said beverage, he forced me a handful of Saltines, too.

Still, the nausea persisted, but so did I. I ran. I ran. I talked with people. They’d become my BFF for a mile or two and then we’d part ways. I listened to my iPod — a strange melange of Erasure, AC/DC, Mumford and Sons, and Awolnation got me through to mile 45. By then, it was sunlight. I was tired but my legs suddenly felt revived. All I could think about was the finish line. I ran through the final aid station at mile 47.5. I ran! I bounded through mud. At mile 49, my shoes became stuck and I totally wiped out into thick puddle of mud, drenching my entire right arm, leg, and buttock in clingy chunky mud. I kept running. I passed a few volunteers at the road crossing — “I hope I’m not the only one covered in mud?” I asked them as I passed. They laughed and assured me that I wasn’t. As I came into the finish line at 7:10am, the crowd went wild — granted, the crowd was about 30 tired volunteers and spectators waiting for their loved ones, but the sight of a crazed mud-covered girl with comely blond braids was evidently pleasing. I wish I had pictures, but you just have to picture it — I forbid Mr. P to come and see me with Little Boy. But here’s a pic about 5 hours later, after a bath and a nap, relaxing poolside at the birthday party of one of Little Boy’s best friends. Wearing, proudly, my race t-shirt. Hair cleaned and re-braided.

Posted in Existence.

Tagged with .

rev="post-8770" 1 comment

By Meredith – June 16, 2013

Welcome, Primus

I’ve been wanting to get a kitty-cat for a long time. Like, years. I’m a cat person… and I suspect that Mr. P is a cat person, even if he’s never had a cat and hence doesn’t yet identify himself as such. Yet.

Little Boy isn’t really a cat person — too extroverted, too conservative. But, he’s a kitten person — playful, full of energy.

Meet his new best friend, Primus. Originally termed “Optimus Prime” by Little Boy, we talked him down to “Prime” and then decided on “Primus.” It’s Latin, so Mr. P was pleased.

So far, a really good kitten. Tidy, playful, and cute as heck.

Posted in Existence.

Tagged with .

Comments Off on Welcome, Primus

By Meredith – June 9, 2013

France/Ireland, May 2013 (Part 2)

So after the family-fun and sightseeing-romp in France, the three of us arrived in Ireland for some relaxation time. And what better way to relax than to get off the plane, rent a car, and drive on the freaking wrong side of the road? Oh yes, that’s some relaxing stuff: sitting on the passenger’s side of the car (which is on the left, typically where I’d be if I was driving) amid a slew of traffic in a four-lane rotary exiting the Dublin airport where everyone is going clockwise! and though Mr. P is a component enough left-hand traffic driver, I’m an extremely nervous left-hand traffic passenger.

But soon enough, we were safely in Bray, a seaside resort town with a famed 7km cliff walk along an incredibly scenic coast with a train. The weather *could* have been better, but since no rain actually fell we were pretty grateful.

Bray Cliffwalk

Bray Cliffwalk

Train on Bray Cliffwalk

We went 3km before Little Boy’s incessant pleadings to “go to the hotel” prompted us to turn around and go to the car (another 3km). Little did Little Boy know that we weren’t staying at a “hotel” like he knows it, like the Paris CDG Hilton with a pool and television and focus-group tested comfort, but an Irish Bed and Breakfast in Glendalough valley in County Wicklow. Having never been to a B&B before, Little Boy was freaked out: we were in someone else’s house?

In the garden of the B&B

For dinner, we headed to a local pub with a restaurant section. I had deer venison sausage, Mr. P had fish and chips, and Little Boy had a simply massive bowl of Irish stew. Which he liked, but oh. Irish cuisine is heavy stuff. My sausage was arguably the lightest fare on the menu. Of course, I did have a pint of:

My favorite beer ever

The next morning, I woke up nice and early (the one-hour time difference from France helped) and tried to run to the trails of Glendalough. The innkeeper had given us vague directions to the trails from the B&B and a map, but I was never quite sure where I was on the map. Eventually, after multiple KMs of rolling hills, I ended up in the heart of the Glendalough trails, not quite sure where to go. We had visited the area very briefly last July, but our tour bus only gave us 90 minutes to explore the area. I found a steep trail along a waterfall and ran it about 5 times before heading back to the bed and breakfast.

After a “typical Irish” breakfast (sausage, ham, an egg, mushrooms, toast, and dear lord black pudding) Mr. P and Little Boy joined me back in Glendalough.

Glendalough

We did an easy walk in the morning and then returned in the afternoon so Mr. P could go for a run while Little Boy and I meandered around the monastic ruins.

Little Boy brought some paper and a pen so he could draw what he saw. This really impressed everyone who saw him — he looked like a serious artist, intently sketching a vision.

Then we went to the walking meditation circle. Of course, we ran instead of walked. Little Boy wanted to take pictures.

Mr. P found the trail that he wanted to hike the following day — the Spinc and Glenealo Valley route, a rugged 9km trail that includes a steep climb. I was most worried about taking Little Boy on the climb, but he seems to do much better on technical and/or steep trails than boring, flat trails. In fast, he was flying up the stairs and putting pressure on the hikers ahead of us.

Climbing to the Spinc

We got above the treeline fairly quickly.

The trail featured these boards, covered in metal netting and nails for those wet and icy Irish days. Thankfully, our weather was nearly perfect.

In the valley

What a great hike! When we made it back to the car, it was time to head back to Dublin for two more nights of vacation. But, we really wanted to stay in Wicklow. There’s not much in Dublin that can compare, though Mr. P came close with his special whiskey-tasting at the Jameson factory tour.

All in all, a pretty good time in Ireland.

Posted in Existence.

Tagged with .

Comments Off on France/Ireland, May 2013 (Part 2)

By Meredith – June 8, 2013

France/Ireland, May 2013 (Part 1)

This trip started as a result of Mr. P’s paternal-side 10-year cousinade (reunion), held on the Brittany coast of France, attended by cousins near and as far away as Australia. Originally Mr. P was going to go solo, for a long weekend, as I didn’t want to spend a third consecutive vacation in France… but then he started talking about bringing Little Boy, and I thought it would look weird if I didn’t go, plus the hotels would cost the same if I went or not… so then, since we were dropping 3 airfares to Europe, it turned into a 5 days in France and 4 days in Ireland. Why not?

I’m writing this almost 2 weeks later, so I’ll rely on pictures to help tell the story. We left Boston Friday night on the red-eye to Dublin. We had a six-hour layover in Dublin — not enough time to leave the airport, not enough time to furlough comfortably in regular airport conditions. So Mr. P splurged on passes to the Aer Lingus lounge, where free drinks, comfortable sofa, and functional showers awaited.

Then, from Dublin, a short flight to Rennes, the capital of Brittany. This picture sums up my overall impression of Brittany:

Brittany, France (with kite-surfer in background)

Gray, cold, rainy skies. My beaux-parents picked us up at the airport and whisked us to the most fabulous dinner I’ve ever eaten that involved uber-bony fish. Little Boy was reunited with his cousins. We were jet-lagged to the point of being energized.

The next day, the reunion. Little Boy frolicked with his British cousins, though he was incredibly wary of the French ones.

Cousins

There were about 100 people. The meal started at 1pm with salads, escalated to ham and veggies, digressed to cheese, and finally ended with dessert at around 6pm.

Official reunion cake

Desserts galore

Enjoying the eclair

Then, after we finally stopped eating, the pictures:

And there are more pictures and people, but I think the idea has been conveyed. It was a nice event. I always welcome the opportunity meet new French people while eating delicious food for 5 hours straight.

The next day, with my beaux-parents as guides, we started exploring Brittany. First we went to the famed tourist destination of Saint-Malo, a walled city known for being a pirate-enclave in centuries past.

Saint Malo's walls: pirate haven

Saint Malo -- sea swimming pool

Walkway to the Grand Bé, a tidal peninsula

This is why Grand Bé is only open low tide -- we had to turn around

Beach of Saint Malo

At the aquarium, touching fish with Papi

The next day we headed to Normandy to visit Mont Saint-Michel, a famed fortified island with an active monastery.

Mont Saint-Michel

We roamed the steep streets amid countless other tourists, including many Americans wearing “Normandy beach” shirts and hats with American flags (what, did they want to be thanked?)

Quaint streets of Mont Saint-Michel

At the monastery

at the monastery

Beaux-parents

Walking back to the car

I must add that, amid all this sightseeing, I ran everyday on a trail on the beach for about 90 minutes. What a workout! The terrain varied from dirt to rocks to clay to sand; the weather varied from the threat of rain to drizzle to actual windy rain. Never a dull moment, and my legs felt strong and renewed.

The next day, we were taking the train to the Paris airport in the afternoon. On the way to the train station in Rennes, we stopped in Dinan, yet another picturesque walled town with steep sidewalks.

Dinan

Dinan

After walking around and having lunch, Mr. P’s parents drove us to the Rennes train station and we bulleted to Paris CDG. We were staying overnight at the Hilton, where thanks to Mr. P’s loyalty points we were granted entry to the Executive lounge. Free drinks and enough appetizers to constituent a dinner!

The next morning, it was off to Dublin for four days of…

Happy times in Ireland

to be continued…

Posted in Existence.

Tagged with .

rev="post-8711" 1 comment

By Meredith – June 7, 2013

36. Years. Old!

Yeah, it’s my birthday. 36. I woke up at 2:30am in a fit of jetlag (from our too-recent big-week in Europe) and proceeded to tackle the enormous pile of work that awaits me for the month of June. Work, work, work until 5am, then I checked the weather and saw forecasted thunderstorms looming at 6am. Yeah, I could have gone to the gym, but it’s my birthday. I wanted to scamper quickly amid the trails… so I braved steady rain and headed up the 200+ foot hill to the local sanctuary, where I ran tiny . 75 mile-loops through a soaking rain, telling myself it was invigorating while fretting about chafing and the effect on my new trail trainers. Total wet run: 7.5 miles.

The day went downhill from there. I worked 8:15 am until 5:15pm, with my only break being when my boss kindly brought me a cupcake and chatted me up about liquor. I left work and took Little Boy to the library. Then, we ate chicken, green beans, an overly-ripe Camembert and chocolate cake. Then, I opened my present: an elaborate head-lamp system for my impending ultra night-runs. Then, we headed to the playground to enjoy the last balmy moments of spring before cruel humidity sets in.

I love my boys.

France and Ireland were excellent. I hope to post a comprehensive trip report after I get pictures from Mr. P, but by the time that happens, the memories of our trip may have faded ‘neath the press of work, training, and domesticity.

Walking in Brittany region of France

Walking in Glendalough, Ireland

Posted in Existence.

Comments Off on 36. Years. Old!

By Meredith – May 29, 2013