Working at Home: Avoiding the Office Cuisinart

Since I started school, I’ve been working from home a lot – usually three days a week.

My new parent company has really encouraged working from home, so it’s a relatively serendipitous turn of events, especially after getting home at 11 PM on class nights. Not having to leave again at 6:45 the next morning means I avoid the stress of ensuring breakfast and lunch are ready to go, figuring out my clothes, repacking my bag, etc. Plus, I can sleep in a bit. And, in theory, I can work out with that extra 3 hours of my day I’m saving.

When I first started this routine, I was worried I’d become too much of a hermit. Or worse, I would epitomize the worst of The Oatmeal’s Working At Home warning.

In reality, though, I’m busy enough that it’s not really a concern. Instead, I’m coming to love my work at home days as a way to help balance work with the rest of my life. You know, like doing laundry. Plus, my house is QUIET. Often, in the afternoons as I hit my stride and am cranking through my to-do list, the only sounds in my cozy home office are my fingers flying over the (ergonomically incorrect) keyboard and the snoring of the cat. Compare this to the often-raucous cubeville with bad lighting and plentiful distractions.

And I don’t need a key to use the bathroom.

I can sneak in a run at lunch or mid-afternoon when I need a break. In a few weeks, I’ll pull out the patio furniture and eat lunch outside, in the sunshine – far better than the terrible fluorescent lights and climate control of the office. I take conference calls while balancing on a wobble board.

In reality, I think I’m working more the days I’m at home. There aren’t the distractions of the office – no passing-by-the-desk hello and chat, no experiments to see if we can build a plumb bob to represent the building’s sway in the wind – and there’s no rush to bolt out the door right at five to catch the last express train bound for the hinterlands, so I can reach a more natural stopping point.

And the meals? For an evolving cook, working at home is divine. It’s nice having the time to sautee spinach, dice some peppers, and crumble feta into my morning eggs. I can easily throw together a marinade at 3 PM so dinner is ready to cook at 5:30, and I’ve ended the frantic just-got-home-starving-starving-FOOD-NOW panic.

The other day, I saw a Ted Talk from Jason Fried that nailed my Work at Home rationale:

He’s absolutely right about the office being like a Cuisinart, shredding your day into “work moments” where you can’t really accomplish thing. After all, you can’t get things done in the annoying 15 minute breaks between meetings. Fried says that work is like sleep: useless in short, choppy blocks.

But you know what’s even better than working at home?

Having the day off. I’m heading out to play.

Maiden Voyage: Whole Foods

For the past two quarters, my professors have assigned giant projects that use Whole Foods as a case study. (This quarter, it’s the final project for my Finance class.) And though I’ve spent months talking about value drivers, compound growth rates and competitive strategy (this quarter) and consumer attitudes towards organic foods (last quarter), I had never set foot inside a Whole Foods.

One opened last year in quasi-nearby Schaumburg, but I have a strong hatred for Schaumburg  on weekends. I knew I really should go, but I hadn’t made the trip yet.

But last Saturday, after spending five hours discussing performance ratios with my group at an Andersonville Starbucks, I realized I was actually pretty close to a Whole Foods and I might as well stop in.

So I navigated myself to the Sauganash store, parked and checked in via FourSquare.

Since it was an impulse trip, I had no list, no plan and no idea of what I actually needed. I was trying to think through my fridge and pantry, and meals for the coming week, but I haven’t been on a real grocery trip in a month – just quick stops to pick up dairy and produce.

So I wandered, somewhat aimlessly, noticing the huge array of relatively pricey produce. Everything looked so fresh and good, though, it took some willpower not to start loading my cart with things I thought I had at home.

I ambled through the store, somewhat afraid a security person would stop me, as I probably could have been profiled as a shoplifter. I was picking up dozens of items and reading labels, but putting little in my cart.

The other big limiting factor to my trip – other than the lack of preparation – was the damn pantry project I announced last week. While I wanted to stock up on things, I already have quite a stock at home that I should use up. This proved especially tempting at the grind-your-own nut butter station.

Then I stumbled on the Larabar selection. I love Larabars, and I’m lucky that my local Meijer stocks a couple flavors and occasionally puts them on sale. But Whole Foods had several flavors I had never tried – banana bread, carrot cake, ginger snap, PBJ – and they also had the mini versions. I ended up grabbing a box of minis and about 6 or 7 regular size bars, not really violating the pantry project because they go in the cabinet, not the pantry.  (This was a loophole I should have exploited more.)

Then, I rounded the corner and discovered the famous bulk foods aisle, just as I got a tweet from a friend insisting I must visit said aisle. I marveled at the variety – every kind of grain, for dirt cheap? All kinds of granolas and dried fruits? Sign me up! But again, restraint prevailed. I ended up getting a couple pounds of oats, since I was due to make granola bars again, and some cous cous, which I was out of. I also got a bunch of dried figs. If I had regular access, I would definitely take advantage of this aisle.

I was hungry after a day of caffeine and sugar, and the prepared foods area smelled divine. But I hadn’t cooked in a week and craved my own home cooking – and had chicken thawing in the fridge – so I passed by with a wistful sniff. I investigated the cheese section, marveled at the wine and beer, and grabbed the milk (cheap for organic!) and eggs I needed.

Overall, it was a good first trip, and I have a better understanding that may help my project. I will definitely go back, prepared with a list, after pantry project month is over.

I think it might even be worth braving Schaumburg on a Saturday.

While I was wary of the “whole paycheck” moniker, I actually didn’t spend that much, in part due to my restraint. The total damage was only $37, of which about half was Larabars. The rest was spread among milk, eggs, oats, cous cous, figs and a bag of fingerling potatoes that I ended up using for dinner. I’m sure if I had grabbed meat or cheese, that number could have been far higher.

What’s your favorite grocery store? If you go to Whole Foods, what are your must-buys?

How Social Media is Changing Everything

Many of you know I work in social media. Yes, I really do “tweet for a living,” though it’s so much more than that. Social media has huge promise, and I’m constantly testing new things, attending conferences and webinars, reading blogs and trying to learn as much as I can.

All that is well and good. But when it finally comes together, and you can see the implications of social media for our lives, I get chills.

Two weeks ago, after leaving a couple days of unplugged bliss in Florida, I went to the opposite end of the spectrum: HIMSS11, a tradeshow with 30,000+ attendees that serves as the annual meeting for the Healthcare Information & Management Systems Society.

There, for the first time in my social media “career,” I saw how all the pieces can come together in tweetups, videos and QR codes. Read more over at Mastering Data Management.

Have you had an “aha” moment about your job?

The Pantry Project

I’ll admit it: I’m a borderline hoarder when it comes to pantry goods. Taught by my mom, I tend to stock up on things when they’re on sale. That’s all well and good, but six weeks later, when canned tomatoes go on sale again, I buy another five cans to add to the eight I bought last time.

It’s good to be well-supplied, but it’s not like I could ever really get cut off from food supplies. There’s a fully stocked (and freshly renovated) grocery store just a 10 minute walk downhill, and, if things get dire, a gas station on the corner. And besides, it’s just me. Unless we have some sort of nuclear holocaust, I don’t think I’ll need to rely on my pantry to sustain me for weeks on end.

My hoarding impulses used to be kept in check by a lack of space. I lived in a couple apartments that had virtually no kitchen storage whatsoever, and my current kitchen is pretty small. But when I realized that I could turn part of a hallway closet into a pantry, I started moving some canned goods off the cabinets’ bowing shelves.

And here we are, with two big shelves full of canned tomatoes (really, the only veggie that’s ok canned), soups, brown rice, oats, flour, nuts, various dried fruits, soy sauce, coffee, olive oil… you name it, I’ve likely got it.

The packed part of my pantry. This doesn't do justice to the depth of the shelves. The shoe box is full of coffee.

When unloading groceries the other night, I stopped and wondered how much money I have invested in all that food. True, with my eating habits, I spend a lot on fresh produce, dairy, meat, etc… and in the summer, a lot of that never gets reflected in my budget, as it’s cash spent at farmers’ markets.

And then I wondered how long I might be able to go without buying any more pantry staples? Surely a week, but how about a month? I think it’s completely feasible that I could go a month and buy only produce, dairy and meat.

So let’s do it. It’s March 2. Can I go the rest of March without buying any additional pantry goods? Can my grocery trips involve just fresh produce, meat, dairy and household goods? Can I do a little pantry spring cleaning?

My meals may get interesting by the end of the month, but let’s see what happens.

Hammering with Habitat

On paper, Habitat for Humanity is a good fit for me: I’ve always fancied myself a bit of a DIYer, and pride myself on (at least) trying to take care of a lot of the maintenance demanded by my old house.

But I never realized how much I don’t know. And how much bigger the stakes are when it’s someone else’s home, not yours.

I first volunteered over the summer, during Habitat of the Northern Fox Valley’s Blitz Build project, where they gutted and rehabbed an entire house in just 20 days to celebrate their 20th anniversary. (Since the housing market currently has an abundance of vacant homes, Habitat is buying and rehabbing existing homes rather than building new – which I thoroughly support.)

Then serendipity intervened. As part of the federal government’s Neighborhood Stabilization Program, the city of Elgin received money to buy and rehab a dozen or so houses to reduce the glut of vacant homes. And they partnered with Habitat for some of the homes, one which was slated to be HHNFV’s very first WomenBuild Project.

It’s in my neighborhood.

I spent a couple wonderful autumn Saturdays doing demolition work, breaking up a cistern, pulling down drywall and cabinets and other projects. Demolition really is good for the soul.

But then school got in the way. It’s really hard to give up an entire Saturday – and wake up early – when facing hours of homework. So I hadn’t been out to the build site for a while until a January Saturday.

I assumed we would be working inside, as the temperature was in the low 20s, with a windchill barely a single digit. I knew the house isn’t yet insulated or really heated, for that matter, so I dressed warmly. When I arrived however, I discovered we would be outside all day, working on the new garage. Half the team was on the roof, shingling, while I and others framed the inside of the garage. I thought about running home to put on additional layers, but I was engrossed and didn’t want to walk away, so I stuck handwarmers in my gloves and boots and took periodic breaks inside. (I also worked “inside” the garage quite a bit.)

Habitat days are wonderful learning experiences, though they can be frustrating. I always realize how much I really don’t know as Tammy, our fantastic forewoman, gives instructions. Since I’m working on someone else’s house – a wonderful woman with two kids, a family – I don’t want to mess up. On my own house, sure, I want things done right, but the consequences only affect me.

The first day I volunteered, during the Blitz Build, was great because the house was being put back together. In the course of a day, I helped hang cabinets – after reading the diagrams and measuring multiple times –  and prepped the bathroom for tile.

Working on the WomenBuild house has been different, though. There have been moments of frustration, when I thought I knew how to do something that I really didn’t, like when I realized I can’t hammer a nail in straight to save my life. Moments when I heard my dad’s voice, saying, “We’ll make a carpenter out of you yet,” as I cut 2x4s. Moments where I sucked it up and climbed a ladder. Moments of exhilaration as I discovered the magic of the palm nailer.

It’s humbling to realize how little I actually know, and how much there is to learn. And yet, this homeowner-to-be has entrusted this organization with rehabbing a house for her and her family. The neighborhood has entrusted Habitat with revitalizing a house, originally built in the 1860s, that has sat vacant for years, and bringing life back to that corner. The city has entrusted Habitat with the money to do so, and indirectly, the feds have sent taxpayers’ hard-earned dollars to this corner.

I know I’ll go back again, because no matter how much I’m frustrated, I know the lessons will translate into my own home.

And sometimes, it’s good to step away from the schoolwork.

Unplugged

Early Friday morning, after a crazy week of midterms and tradeshow prep, I paced my front porch before dawn, waiting for the cab to take me to the airport. I had gotten home from class at 11 PM the night before and frantically packed for a weekend away and a tradeshow, finally crashing into bed around 1 AM before rising again at 4:30. I tossed and turned in between, fretting I wouldn’t wake up with the alarm.

To top it off, my cab was 30 stress-filled minutes late.

But Friday at noon, I rented a brand-new Corolla and drove away from all of that, windows down, hair whipping around, sunglasses framing my gaze at palm trees. I had miscalculated my layers and was sweating in running shoes and jeans, but the sweat felt so good – warm and summery.

For two hours I drove south into increasingly rural Florida. The speed limits increased as the scenery changed from Orlando sprawl to orange groves and cows.

And then I arrived. I stayed a wonderful weekend with my 85-year-old grandma at her senior retirement community, comprised of a couple hundred small homes, many of which are converted RVs. The pace of life is entirely different: my cell phone picks up only the weakest single bar of Edge network signal, and the internet is an optional expense and experience. As we watched TV Friday night, my grandma asked if I had heard anything about “that Facebook thing,” and I smiled, telling her that indeed, it’s part of my job and I’m always connected.

All day, we watched people walking and biking  (and golf carting) up the street to the community center, where the pool, laundry facilities and a host of daily activities form the nucleus of the little neighborhood. A schedule of activities on her fridge lists several options for each day, from bingo and crafts to health screenings and shrimp boils.

It was exactly what I needed. I sent a couple idle tweets as we were in town to eat out, but for the most part, I was cut off, and after the initial twitching, it was bliss.

Saturday, I slept in, waking up with a face full of Floridian sunshine, and after a light breakfast, went for a fabulous run. Since the community is hemmed between a highway and a lake, my route was limited, so I zig-zagged up the streets and around a pond, and then through an orange grove, with trees dotted with fruit ripe for picking. Afterwards, I went for my second swim of the weekend, soaking up sunshine and warmth and peace.

Sunday morning we went out for a leisurely breakfast. “What would you like to do?” Grandma asked once we returned, bellies full of French toast and coffee, facing just a few hours before I had to leave.

“Sunshine,” I answered, knowing that although I would spend a few more days in Florida, I would be trapped inside a windowless, over-air conditioned convention center.

So we sat on her patio in lawn chairs, our books unopened as we chatted idly in the sunshine. We didn’t talk non-stop, and the comfortable silences were filled with enjoying a beautiful summer day – in February.

Reluctantly, I packed up the car, grabbed a couple oranges off her tree, squeezed Grandma tight, and drove north. Soon my phone dinged with emails and missed tweets, but I ignored them, trying to savor the unplugged peace as long as possible.

I need to do that more often.

How do you unplug? I often unplug for a few hours on a weekend – or an entire weekend day, when possible – but this was so much better.

Ritual Caffeine

I keep hearing an ad for 5-Hour Energy that touts the product as a better caffeine-delivery system, without the “making, waiting and hassle” of coffee.

But I rather like that “hassle.”

For years, I didn’t drink coffee. I drank tea. I enjoyed filling the kettle, wandering off for a few minutes, and being summoned back to the kitchen by the high-pitched whistle. Then I measured out my loose leaf tea into the little ball. As I poured hot water into the mug, you would smell a hint of the tea to come, an aroma that grew and blossomed over the next 5 minutes until I was ready to settle in with a mug of warmth.

I started regularly drinking coffee about four years ago when I realized that the occasional latte really helped me focus and power through work, so why not switch to coffee in the mornings? A friend gave me a coffee grinder and a bag of beans and recommended I buy a French press. I was in heaven. I could follow the same ritual – filling the kettle etc – and pour the water over freshly ground coffee. The aroma was heady and intense. Growing up, the smell of coffee meant morning, as it wafted upstairs in the wee hours before I had to get up.

Of course, life has gotten busier, and I welcomed the Keurig single cup brewer I got for Christmas a year ago. It really is much quicker than the kettle/French press method, with less clean up required. I got a refillable k-cup that I can fill with my freshly ground beans.

But on weekends, when I have time, I still fill up the kettle and break out the French press for my favorite cup of coffee of the week.

Since school started, my caffeine consumption has roughly tripled, but I still enjoy the ritual of every cup of tea or coffee. And when I get home from class, late at night, there’s something soothing about starting the water, changing into my pajamas, and curling up on the couch with a mug of mint tea while my brain slows down for the night.

What’s your caffeine ritual?

Why I Lift Heavy Things

I love strength training.

I love lifting heavy things, making myself stronger, making it easier to haul groceries or 40 lb bags of kitty litter or 6×8 ft fence panels.

Last year, I followed the New Rules of Lifting for Women program, which introduced me to a world beyond 3 lb, neoprene coated dumbbells. I scoured Craigslist and assembled a kick-ass gym in my (very cold) basement. I did deadlifts and squats and rows and cleans.

It was rough going at first, but once I got through the initial what-the-heck-am-I-doing phase, it was golden. I looked forward to my lifting workouts and always felt great afterwards: powerful, energetic and ready to take on the world.

But in late spring, the siren call of the outdoors got stronger. After spending all day (and all winter) indoors, I really didn’t want to go down to the basement and lift. I was running more, and loving that, too.

Strength training went by the wayside. I was lifting only once every five or six weeks, and paying for it each time with a week’s worth of achy muscles. I was still adhering to New Rules of Lifting (NROL), but by rarely lifting, I wasn’t making any real progress.

Once it got cold, I returned to strength training, and remembered why I loved it. But I had lost a lot of my baseline strength, and while Stage 6 of NROL ostensibly prepares you to do a chin-up, I definitely couldn’t. No big deal, though, as I finished the 7th stage of the program just before Christmas and felt pretty good about it.

I’ve learned that I need to follow a prescribed program that tells me what exercises to do in which combination, so I picked up Rachel Cosgrove’s Female Body Breakthrough. Though the tone is way too girl-talky for me (and the liberal use of exclamation points makes me cringe), the program itself is well-designed, with plenty of core work and a good variety of heavy weights and body-weight exercises.

Once again, though, Cosgrove’s program includes chin-ups. And once again, I screwed my chin-up bar into the door frame – and hung there, a dead weight.

Damn it, I want to do a chin-up. Just one is fine.

So I will. It may take all year.  But mark my words, I will be able to do a single chin-up.

And this summer, I’ll keep strength training as an integrated part of my weekly workout schedule. Maybe by cooling down post-run at the playground around the corner. Monkey bars would work for chin-up practice, right?

Snowpocalypse 2011

As you might have heard, we got a bit of snow last week. Snowpocalypse, or #snOMG as Twitter was calling it, was unlike anything I’ve ever seen or experienced. I vaguely remember the 1999 storm, but I was a senior in high school still on Christmas break.

This storm was incredible for its fury. All week, Skilling and others kept raising the expected accumulation totals and narrowing down the exact hour the storm hit. And they were right.

I woke up Tuesday morning to a fresh inch or so of snow and word that Metra was rearranging their afternoon schedules to help people get home ahead of the storm. All day, the skies were relatively clear. Until 2 PM, when suddenly, I looked out the 22nd floor windows and saw snow blowing horizontally, swirling violently.

The few coworkers who had come into the office started leaving to catch the special early Metra trains. I heard that Union Station was chaotic, so I decided to wait an hour to let things thin out a bit.

I left work at 4:15 and hunched against the wind and snow until I got to the eerily empty Union Station. I boarded the 4:50 train, which closed the doors right on time, with several empty seats. We sat for 10 minutes and then departed. Just past Western Avenue, we stopped. And sat. For nearly two hours. The conductors had no information, but I was able to learn from Twitter that there was a switch failure ahead. We sat on a bridge, near Damen and Grand, as the wind rocked the train back and forth. I was hungry and cursed myself for leaving an apple on my desk. Another passenger joked about ordering a pizza, if we could convince someone to come to the rail bridge.

Eventually, we pulled into Elgin just before 8 PM, and I made a very difficult walk home, as the 40 mph winds flung snow at and around me, obscuring my vision and sucking my breath. Scenes from Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Long Winter filled my head, as I thought of pioneers getting lost in blizzards, stringing clothesline to navigate from house to stable. I wish I had a rope to follow home.

As I killed time on the train, I had seen several Twitter friends mention power outages. When I finally got close to my house and saw the porchlights, I breathed a sigh of relief. But as I trudged through the drifts on the driveway, I found a couple shingles. I think they’re from my roof, but I’m still not quite sure. I had made it home, but had to dig out my back door, which was already encased in snow nearly up to the doorknob.

As I left work, I had hoped to settle in early and study, but after a four hour commute, I curled up with a glass of wine and listened to the storm. I’ve been in this house nearly five years, and I’ve never heard it rock and shake and creak quite like it did Tuesday night. I followed the storm on Twitter, as Elgin’s city manager tweeted from a snowplow, and crossed my fingers every time the power flickered. Finally I went to bed, but laid awake, listening to the howling storm.

No wonder my kitchen was so dark! That's a six-foot tall fence

When I woke up, the winds had died down quite a bit, but the house seemed very odd. I realized it was because nearly every window was covered with frozen-on snow, obscuring much of the light. I surveyed the damage: officially, we got 20 inches, and I had drifts nearly 4 and 5 feet tall, some next to bare patches of pavement. A piece of my garage roof soffit was lying in the backyard.

The driveway: 4 ft drifts next to bare pavement

But since I was working from home, there wasn’t really a snow day. I went out at lunchtime and began shoveling – after I tunneled to the garage to retrieve my shovel.

I went out for a couple brief spells in the afternoon, thankful I didn’t really need the car until Saturday.

My tunnel, from house to street

Late in the afternoon, I started to dig out the end of the driveway, where it was drifted pretty deep, and finally had a tunnel to the street. My neighbor stopped by with his ATV, to which he had strapped a plow blade. He had a great time, riding up my drifts and then barreling downhill towards the street, pushing mountains of snow as he went. As he plowed, a former neighbor pulled up with his snowblower and asked if I wanted some help. Other neighbors also offered help. (I love this town.)

Luckily, I had no pressing need to take out the trash.

Later, I met up with some neighbors and helped clear the sidewalks of the main street in the neighborhood. Afterwards, we went to the local bar for chili and beer.

So while I didn’t get a traditional snow day, it was still a pretty good day. I even settled in with a mug of tea and pulled out The Long Winter before bed.

But that said, I think I’d be okay if we didn’t get any more snow this winter.

Though it was kind of pretty.

I do love the view over the river.

My F^ing First Half Marathon

Back in November, I signed up for the Indy Mini Half Marathon to be held this coming May. Perfect, I thought, I’ll have lots of time to train throughout the spring with no pressure over the winter.

Of course, things never quite go as planned. Which is why, a couple weeks later, I got Twitter-pressured into signing up for the aptly named F^ing Freezing Frozen Lake Half Marathon scheduled for January 29. The 13.1 mile “fun run” would lead a pack of crazy runners along the lakefront in January.

In 40-degree November, it seemed slightly insane, but not terribly so. After all, several friends were doing it, and it would be good motivation to go run a couple days a week, even after it got cold. (Never mind that I had never run in winter before, let alone through one of the coldest Decembers on record.)

As cold December and icy January progressed, I started to worry I wasn’t prepared enough. My mileage dropped a lot in December – damn cold – and January started off poorly with an entire week of illness, followed by more frigid cold. In fact, going into Saturday morning, I had only 11 miles under my belt for the entire month of January. I knew that wasn’t nearly enough and was kicking myself for not getting a 9 or 10 miler in there somewhere.

The race itself became more of a Cluster F^ing Freezing event, as the city of Chicago discovered the plans for this “grass roots” fun run and demanded their cut, in the form of permits, liability insurance, etc. The organizer sadly emailed us and told us that the “official” event was off, but we could all run our own 13.1 and then meet up with our beer tokens afterwards. (David goes into more detail behind the change of plans.)

Luckily, the same group that had Twitter-pressured each other into the race sprang into action, trading tweets and emails to reorganize plans for a massive fun run, replete with pirate and ninja costumes. (There were supposed to be tutus, too, but that didn’t quite pan out.)

So I set out at dawn Saturday morning to drive into the city. I had chugged down water the night before but woke up parched, as the house is very dry, despite constantly-running humidifiers. I was careful about how much water I drank, though, since an “unofficial” and “unsupported” race meant there were likely no bathrooms along the way. I brought my own small water bottle to tuck into my pocket.

We gathered, snapped a couple pictures, and marveled how lucky we had gotten – it was in the upper 20s with just a light wind off the lake. For late January, it could have been far, far worse, with sleet or single-digit temperatures. In fact, I had debated which UnderArmour to wear – was it too “warm” for the extreme cold gear? (I later learned that yes, indeed, it was.)

We set off, a group of maybe 50 or 60, and my friends and I quickly settled into a comfortable pace near the back. I thanked Cate and Jenn for slowing to my pace, as I knew it would be a long slog, and I was better off taking it easy since my training wasn’t up to par.

Quickly, we realized we needed a pit stop. Jenn often runs the lakefront path and knew of an open restroom near Diversey. We took a short detour, found the bathroom, and walked into a cloud of cigarette smoke. Two homeless men were inside, sitting on stools, smoking. They had even turned one of the stalls into a closet. They demurely ducked out and waited for us to finish our business.

The first few southbound miles were relatively uneventful. I started to get a stitch in my side, but water and a few dried apricots helped. We kept around a 10-11 minute pace, which felt comfortable, and Jeff even noted we were running negative splits at one point. There were a couple spots we weren’t quite sure where to go – the race director had given inaudible instructions about where to veer left or right to stay on mostly-cleared paths  – but we seemed to do fine. We even warmed up quite a bit, and I peeled off my gloves and considered unzipping my jacket’s vents.

Going north was harder. The wind was coming off the lake, and I put my gloves back on. We stopped for a water break and stretch around Oak Street Beach, where some Polar Bear Clubbers were preparing for a plunge. My right calf felt tight, but stretching seemed to help.

Until a couple miles later. I started feeling more frequent twinges of tightness in my legs – first in my hamstrings, then in my right calf. My hips were complaining about the distance as we hit about 8 miles, so we slowed even more and took a couple walk breaks.

Shortly after nine miles, my right calf clinched up in a tight knot, pulling my foot up with it. I stumbled, stopped and stretched along a fence, trying to unlock it. Jenn coached me about adjusting my posture and taking even shorter strides. We started running again, and I made it another quarter mile or so before it seized up again, even tighter. I winced and screeched to a halt, trying to hydrate and stretch and force myself forward. But I couldn’t.

Those last couple miles were terrible. I kept trying to run, but after five or six steps the calf would shriek in protest. It felt like someone was twisting a knife into it, like those terrible charley-horses I occasionally get at night. But instead of being in bed, I was upright, shivering as the wind cooled the sweat on my brow, three miles from my car. Cate offered to run ahead and get the car but I kept insisting I could make it. (In retrospect, if this had been a fully supported race, I would have taken the golf cart at this point.)

Jenn and Cate were fantastic, sticking with me even though walking meant we froze in the wind. We finally finished around 2:42ish, reaching the finish as the organizers were taking down their tent.

Afterwards, we warmed up, drinking hot cider spiked with Jamesons and eating bananas while we stretched. The drive home was tough – of course, I would pull my right/driving calf before the 40 mile drive home – and I spent the rest of the evening gingerly stretching and foam rolling.

But I finished, and for that I’m thankful. And I set the bar nice and low for a big PR in Indy – when I’ll have lots of springtime miles under my belt.

One of the instigators for our mass participation, Sue, really captures the thought process shared by many of us in her post.