Runner's high.

As I stood shivering in my tank top in the half-light of Sunday morning, I couldn't help but wonder, "Why in the world am I doing this again?" Like, maybe when I had signed up a few months earlier to run 13 miles, I hadn't been seriously considering how comfortable my bed is. I wondered how many of the other 11,000 people there were thinking the same thing. But after training for weeks and quickly destroying the cold virus that had threatened me earlier in the week (including some Googling to contradict my friend's claim that high volumes of Vitamin C can lead to kidney stones), I wasn't about to turn back.

Thankfully, it was a beautiful day for a run, with clear skies and a cool breeze. My favorite part of the race was around mile 8, when--after coming out of Central Park and before turning down the West Side Highway toward the site of the World Trade Center--the course took us through midtown. There's something about being in a sea of runners going through Times Square while total strangers cheer you on that is pretty hard to beat. It was the perfect adrenaline boost for the last half of the race.

Photo from New York Road Runners

(Incidentally, my second favorite part was the group of people around mile 11 holding a sign that read "High Five Station" and slapping our hands as we ran past.)

My goal for my first one was basically to not die, which I managed pretty well and finished in 2 hours 20 minutes. This time, I was shooting for 2 hours. My official finish time was 2:00:23. I'll take it. And besides, I'll have a chance to break the 2-hour mark in 9 weeks, when I run the Brooklyn half marathon. I'm taking a week off while I hobble around on ridiculously sore legs like an 80-year-old, and then it's back to training. I think maybe I'm a glutton for punishment.

In like a lion.

This weekend, driving rain coupled with 60 mph winds turned New York City into an umbrella graveyard. On Saturday afternoon, my roommate and I ventured out to the nicer grocery store several blocks from our apartment to get some things for a party we were having. I was happy we were together as I would have felt really stupid clutching my umbrella in front of me like a shield and shrieking if I'd been by myself. Instead, it was kind of hilarious. We opted to take the bus back after finishing our shopping, and didn't really brave the elements again that day (though all our party guests had to... they were rewarded handsomely with pie, though). Sunday morning, the carnage was everywhere--mangled skeletons of umbrellas, dumped hastily in garbage cans or lying abandoned in gutters. It was strangely poetic.

Thankfully, the 10-day forecast shows sunny and 60 degrees, with only one day of rain during that time. Except, guess which day that is? Half marathon day. I also appear to be coming down with a cold, so I'm downing NyQuil and am currently at about 2000% DV of Vitamin C (you can't overdose on vitamins, can you?). Bring it.

Shame.

Sometimes I feel like people are silently judging me.

Like when I'm trying to stuff all my things into a locker at the gym, and three boxes of Girl Scout cookies fall out of my bag.