Race Report: Tofurky Trot 5k

I've always wanted to do a 5k on Thanksgiving morning.

I, however, grew up in a small town and am always in said small town for Thanksgiving. There are no Thanksgiving 5ks here.

I hear that made-up races are all the rage, so I decided that this was a good time for...

(Drumroll, please...)

The First Annual Tofurky Trot 5k

I'm a vegetarian. I won't be eating any turkey this year. Tofurky it is!

And I'd actually never tried Tofurky before...until the night before the "race." Thanksgiving: Round One was Wednesday night and my vegetarian sister-in-law and I decided that it would be the perfect time to bust out some faux-meat.



It was surprisingly delicious.


Ally and Vanessa...loving the Tofurky

Back to the race. I ran 3.1 miles. As I was turning the corner to head home, I saw a crazed woman running toward me. My mom. She wanted to cross the "finish line" with me.

I could see why when home was in sight.



Dudes, my mom is hilarious! She made me a finish line!!



I crossed the line and quite nearly set a personal worst...but I won the race and set a course record. One of the benefits of being the only participant.

And I finished just in time for Thanksgiving: Round Two. Bring on the Tofurky!

Pasta - Round Two

Now that I am a self-proclaimed pasta expert, I decided that I should share my talents with the world.

So I invited Ryan over for homemade pasta.

Mark and Jen have the perfect pasta setup. Large kitchen, counter space, and all the tools required to make homemade pasta. Things like...pasta drying racks.

I? Do not have these things.

What's a girl to do when she has nowhere to dry her pasta??



God, I am all kinds of classy.

Race Report: Living History Farms XC 7-mile

Alternate title: Dirty Girl

Alternate title: XC Bitch

Alternate title: Water, water everywhere but none of it to drink

I ran the Living History Farms 7-ish Mile XC run on Saturday.

My first cross country race ever.

I was told to wear old shoes and clothes I didn't care about. I guessed that it might be muddy.

DUDES. I HAD NO IDEA.

Wait. I'll start from the beginning.

I got to the race early to pick up my packet - I heard that shirt sizes were limited so they suggested getting there early. I was there when the doors open...and they were still out of my size. BLAST. So I got my bib, chip and too-big shirt, and headed back to my car.

I had an hour to kill. I'd gotten four hours of sleep the night before (I was staying in Des Moines with a college friend and we were up until the wee hours catching up). I decided a nap in the car was in order. I cranked up the seat warmer, set the alarm on my phone, reclined the seat, and headed off to dream land. I slept for about 45 minutes. Best nap ever.

After my nap, I headed to the starting area, where I ran into Lisa - a White Bear Lake Lifetime runner. We ran 22 miles together at the Duluth retreat in May. Fancy meeting you here!

Also spotted at the starting line:

A swarm of bee-people.

A man wearing a loincloth. ONLY A LOINCLOTH. No shoes. No underpants. I definitely saw a little ass cheek action.



A cross country team wearing only boxers.

Shirtless guys in swimcaps, goggles and spandex-y pants.

There were lots of costumes. Lots of matching group outfits. And lots and lots of people. Jam packed!

The gun or horn or whatever sounded, and we were off. I started running with Brooke - a friend of Lisa's. There were people everywhere. And did I mention that there were people everywhere? It was complete chaos.

It continued like this for the first mile...and then it got WORSE. There was a tunnel and it was a huge bottleneck. So we waited and waited until we could take our turn. The tunnel was muddy. A-ha, I thought to myself. Mud! Here it is! I HAD NO IDEA.

After the tunnel, the crowd thinned a bit. We ran up some hills, near some fields, through tall grass. We entered a wooded area, and there it was. A cute babbling creek. That We Had To Cross.

It was another bottleneck - most people tried to cross by hopping the stones in the shallow area of the creek to keep their feet dry. I was one of those people. I crossed the first creek, shoes still dry.

I crossed the second creek, shoes still dry.

I crossed the third creek, shoes still dry.

I crossed the fourth creek, shoes...well, almost dry.



But the fifth creek? There wasn't a way to cross without going balls out and just running through it.

The sixth creek? Screw it, my shoes are already wet.

The seventh creek? This is fun!

The eighth and final creek? Oh goodness.

It was a sharp dropoff...made out of mud. So I slid down (mudslide...whee!)...down to the creek. But then I had to climb out on the other side. Which was also a big muddy dropoff. I clawed and climbed my way out, with a muddy boost from a person below. Evidenced by the muddy handprints on my ass.

And then I was in the home stretch. With a mile to go, I brought it home.

As I was in the final stretch, I saw a familiar face cheering in the crowd...Danielle! YAY for unintentional bloggy meet-ups! And 'tis true...she has me seriously considering the Doughnut Run next year. :)

I crossed the finish and they handed me my medal...in a plastic bag. Good call, because I was covered in mud.


Note to self: Don't touch face with muddy hands. Also, wear a hat.





I grabbed some water - there was NONE on the course - unless you count the creeks we crossed. And as soon as I stopped moving, I started to freeze my ass off. I was shivering and my hot cider was splashing all over my mud covered gloves...but I didn't mind because it kept my hands warm. :)

It was a great race. Muddy. Fun. Exciting. New.

Who wants to join me next year??

(And here's a great video clip from the Des Moines Register...)

I'm Ready For My Own Show on Food Network

Last week I learned how to make homemade pasta.

Homemade pasta!! I KNOW.

I don't think you understand how dangerous this is. Homemade pasta? Is like...like...cocaine wrapped in bacon wrapped in chocolate. THAT GOOD.

So I headed over to Jen and Mark's. Mark is my personal Pasta Jesus.

We mixed the ingredients. Rolled them into a ball. Kneaded the dough.

And it was game time.

Time to roll out the dough.


That's how I roll

Mark is an excellent teacher. He is very calm. Relaxed. Gives great instructions. And tells me to Calm The Fuck Down when I have a mini-freakout because I think my dough looked funny. Uh, not that that happened. Me? Freak out? Pffftt.

Right as I was getting the hang of it, Cindy and Kim showed up. Perfect! Just in time for me to dazzle them with my madd pasta skillz.

They also wanted to learn how to make pasta, so the student became the teacher. Watch out, ladies. Professor Ally is in the house.


No, you do it like THIS

I? Am not an excellent teacher. I am spastic. Twitchy. I Give horrible instructions and I Freak The Fuck Out when their dough looks funny. Mark? Mark?? Can you take a look at this dough??

Mark said things like, "You might want to try rolling the bigger end first so the dough rolls out into a rectangle"

I said things like, "No, no, NOOOO! That's all wrong!! Put the fat end in first, otherwise it will be like when you put on a tight pair of pants and things splooge all over the place."

Mark said things like, "After you've rolled the dough a few times, you'll want to think about getting it into a rectangle shape so we can roll it out for cutting."

I said things like, "You'll just know when the dough is ready. Because you'll kind of want to pet it. Do you want to pet it?? Yes? Okay. It's smooth, isn't it? Okay. Now think about your rectangle."

Mark said things like, "You're doing a great job."

I said things like, "Dudes, I could totally kick your ass in a pasta making contest."

And then it was time to cut the dough.

And hang it on the rack.


Nice Rack

And then boil it and EAT IT.



Yummmmm

We had a delightful dinner (I had to remind everyone a few time that the pasta? The pasta that we were eating? I MADE IT)...and before I knew it, the clock struck 9:30 and we had to go. So I put on my winter gear and was getting ready to head out, when Mark announced that he had a door prize for me.

My very own pasta maker.

Dude, really? REALLY? DUDE!!!


You can practically hear my excited squeal through the Internet

I HAVE MY VERY OWN PASTA MAKER.

AND ALSO? I HAVE MY VERY OWN PASTA MAKER.

And did you hear that I HAVE MY VERY OWN PASTA MAKER?

Public Service Announcement: GU

Gu packets are not machine washable.

Please hand wash, and whatever you do, DO NOT TUMBLE DRY.

That is all. Carry on.

Retreat

Things have been relatively quiet on the running front (outside of the running with hotties) - I have only run with the Roseville girls a handful of times since the beginning of October. I really like running with the group when I need a push - speed workouts, LSDs, hill workouts. But when I was tapering? I really preferred to run alone. So I skipped the most of the group workouts and ran solo. But that's old news.

After the marathons? I think I've run with the girls once. Maybe twice.

So it was fantastic when last weekend rolled around, because we went to Kim's cabin and had a running retreat.

Hottie Kim, Hottie JD and I went up a day early - sneaking in a 3-miler on Friday morning. See? I only run with hotties. But dude, that was the most painful 3-mile "easy" run I've had in a long time. Where did my fitness go??


Before the run, JD had to prove that this white girl can jump

But that was nothing compared to Saturday's run. The seven of us wanted to get a 13-miler in before the final three runner girls were scheduled to arrive tat morning. I was ready to rock it at a slow pace, but I had no idea what was in store. The first few miles felt good, but when the path turned, we headed straight into the biting wind. It was cold. I wasn't running fast enough to stay warm. Kim was hurting. Claudia was hurting. I wasn't hurting, but I was questioning why I was running 13 miles. I wasn't training for anything. I am supposedly in my off season. I wasn't having a great run. Things started to turn around at mile 8 - I picked up my pace and was starting to get back in the groove. Within 20 minutes, we were home.

No, I didn't run five miles in 20 minutes. At mile 9, Duana, Mary and Kristen drove by. And they asked if we wanted a ride.

want a ride? Back home? HELL YES.

So Kim, Claudia and I bailed on the run. I just knew I wouldn't have been able to hold it together for four more miles. But I wouldn't have had to worry anyway...turns out our route was only 11 miles. I could have sucked it up for the last two miles if I'd known.

But we had a wonderful weekend. We did some girl bonding. We planned next year's races. We knitted (Yes, I knit. I am just three cats shy from being the crazy cat lady that lives down the street). We ran. We had an early Thanksgiving dinner (Duana makes AMAZING mashed potatoes). Karen and Kim attempted to eat ten saltines in 60 seconds (it was a spectacular failure, I might add).


The dog ate my pattern. No, really. Jen's dog ate half of the pattern.
And Kim? She's the master at casting on.

It was so nice that after all of the miles we put in over the past months, we could get together and just RELAX. Spend time together without stressing about running. Enjoy the fruits of our labor.

Don't Try This At Home

I went on a run with "Hottie Tri Friend" Ryan tonight (I have a new rule. I only run with hotties...so Ryan needed a nickname upgrade). The run was fantastic. It was about 30 degrees but I had layered perfectly so I was the perfect temperature. We did six miles - I have no idea what pace we ran because Carmen the Garmin? DIED. Faaak.

But.

It was a great run, so it doesn't matter how fast we went.

We grabbed Chipotle after the run to negate all of the good we'd done, and sitting in the restaurant with sweaty clothes? COLD.

Then we walked back to my place in sweaty clothes. COLD.

So I needed something steamy to warm me up. Some hot cocoa, perhaps.

Hot cocoa? Hot cocoa? Bueller? Bueller?

Nothing. No cocoa in the apartment.

But.

I did find a chocolate protein shake. So I popped it in the microwave and heated it up.

Dude, don't try this. It is just as horrible as you imagine it would be.

Bleh.