Tag Archives: running

Sandy Hook Memorial Run

To start the new year, a few of us will be running 26 miles (technically 26.2 miles) in memory of the 26 lives lost at Sandy Hook Elementary on December 14, 2012.

The run will be 2 loops on the flat sections of Castlewood State Park and on the Al Foster.  This event is not supported, so you must bring your own everything, including mojo.

Some people have indicated that they will run the first 13.1 with us and that is of course noble and welcomed.

My hope is that all who read this can find a way to donate $1 for each mile we run to the Sandy Hook School Support Fund.

The United Way of Western Connecticut, in partnership with Newtown Savings Bank, has created the Sandy Hook School Support Fund to provide support services to the families and community members.  Check donations may be mailed to:

Sandy Hook School Support Fund,c/o Newtown Savings Bank, 39 Main St., Newtown CT 06470, or dropped off at any Newtown Savings Bank branch.

For questions about your check donation within local Newtown Savings Bank branches, call 800-461-0672. Or, at the United Way, call David Deschenes, 203-792-5330 ext. 239, or Isabel Almeida, 203-792-5330 ext. 106. You can also donate by credit card. Go to: https://newtown.uwwesternct.org/.

Each mile will be represented with the photo and name of one of the 26 victims and will be posted to Facebook and Twitter under the hashtag #26milesforNewtown.

If you cannot make the run or donate, I hope that you will take the moment to commit their faces to memory as you plan out your new year and maybe do something that you normally wouldn’t…just because you still can.

  • Where: Castlewood State Park; Pavilion 1 (first lot on left)
  • When: Tomorrow, Jan 1, 2013
  • Time: 8:00am
  • What: RUNNING!

If you would like to do the run later/earlier…you are on your own (which you would be anyway because I am a crazy slow runner and skipping is hard on the trails!)  That said, do it anyway and just use the hashtag so that everyone can feel the love.

I wish you all a very safe and happy New Year!


The 6-Minute Fail

Last week I raced the 6-hr solo at The Burnin’ at the Bluffs.

This past weekend, I raced the shortest cx race I have ever raced.


While technically, I raced for longer than 6 minutes, it was about 6 minutes into the race that it all simply fell apart.

I knew it would fall apart at about 2pm on Saturday when I exited the Xtreme Krav Maga Womens Self Defense Workshop with Steve Sulze with Cristel.

We had kicked each other’s asses.

We were bruised, bloody, and sore.

As we nursed our Starbucks and cry-laughed at our awesome badassery and utter lack of grace, we knew.

We knew the following day would suck.

We knew we would never again disagree about anything.  EVER.  We knew now what the other could do and better to use that against others than each other.  You cannot un-know once you know.  We knew.

I immediately took an Aleve and smeared Icy Hot on my almost everything when I got home.

I laid down and awaited the arrival of my 5-foot baby giraffe and prayed that I could drink enough water to make the pain disappear.

Frankly, I had done just about everything a person could do wrong all week long, save smoking a little crack or going on a bender.

In recovering from The Burnin’, I decided it would be an awesome idea to run a 5K on Tuesday after work.

I felt “great” for someone who loathes-running-less-than-swimming, but it was still clear I am not a runner.

I finished in 29:55 and laughed because I have skipped longer at a faster pace and this only cemented the fact that I will likely always skip in any triathlon I do in the future.  Without a doubt.


My legs sobbed heavily the next day and I feared I would become an Aleve junkie.

My co-workers just shook their collective heads at me and laughed.  I am a lucky girl.  I am loved.

I went to the gym and tried to spin it all out of my legs on Wednesday, but my legs were not having it.

While I was spinning, tiny trolls came and hit me with hammers and rocks.  It hurt.

I got a massage.

Everything still hurt.

I ate sushi on Thursday because sushi makes everything better.

It didn’t help.

I got a massage on Friday.

Still pain, but at least I could walk.

Sure, I walked like Tim Conway, but it was walking.

So, Saturday’s class was not a great addition to my schedule.

I had done everything possible to bait Cristel into canceling too.

She was not to be swayed.

I needed this class…and I needed to do it with one of my closest friends, because we both knew I was going to be a hot mess.  (I was.)

So, after the class, I was physically and emotionally spent.  I had nothing left, except a bit of drool that I was too tired to do anything with.

I laid on the couch awaiting either death or my adorable daughter and was nervous that either would have been acceptable at that exact moment.

We were going to The Fabulous Fox to see Les Miserables that evening and all I could think about was the pain of having to sit mostly still and upright for a very, very, VERY long time while also being quiet and not having a potty mouth.

In hindsight, this was a pretty awful plan.

I sucked it up and we had a great time.

I fell into bed at midnight and again wished for fast sleep…or death.

(Not really the latter, because that would be pretty awful actually.)

Cristel had told me that she was riding MTB early in the morning and that I had that as an “out” if I didn’t want to race…

…but in the morning, she was without a sitter and so I put on The Pink and headed out with the Sass to race.

I had never raced at Sylvan Springs Park, but I knew enough about it to know it would be a good course to remind me of the pain I will experience at Harbin Park in 2 weeks…and I needed a good ass-kicking.

I again smeared myself with Icy Hot and chomped some Aleve and became exhausted looking at the course while I stood in the registration line.

Every bone and joint in my body hurt.

The ends of my hair hurt.

Even my eyelashes hurt.

I lined up at the very, very back of the field and tried to make myself laugh.

I said I would “BAAAAA!” at any and every lady I passed because if I was passing you on this day, you were in worse shape than me and also, sheep sounds are funny.

The only people getting a free pass was the girl on the MTB and the first-timer.

Unfortunately, I took off hotter than I planned because I also did not want to get hung up behind turns as there were some triathletes there and as much as I have love for my tri friends, I love my skin more and also knew that if I went down, I was maybe not getting back up.  I really needed to stay up.

My hands were swollen and cut up and I knew turns were going to be tricky enough for me without a triathlete in the middle of it.

It was really best for all of us if I just rode away.

That was working out pretty well until the first descent.

I almost took out a pole and then turned onto a climb.

I had moved up to 5th and was struggling to hold it…


The Pain Trolls threw rock hand-ups and wet cats at me and I felt my insides shredding.

I could feel my bruised ribs screaming as my lungs kick-boxed them.

A few more nasty (for me) turns and one in which I actually squealed in fear that I was about the eat shit and I had moved up to 4th wheel…

Then we headed toward the lovely climb.

As soon as I hit the base, something awful and pain-filled happened to my legs.

As the chasers closed in on me, I allowed them space to pass and as my wheels slowed to an almost stop at a dip in the climb, I bit it.



I could barely move to get up and struggled picking up my bike, which weighs like 2 lbs.

That was 6 minutes into the race.

I had to run to the barriers and died a million deaths stepping over them.

I lost 3 spots.


As I descended the hill, I nearly slipped off the handlebars and wrecked myself.

How in the hell was I going to do this multiple times?

As I rode through the Start/Finish, I felt awful, but carried on…

…until I saw it.

The mental-fuckage that I never realized existed until that very moment.

We all have “that girl”.

Hell, I am “that girl” to a few people.

She is the person against whom you mentally tell yourself you did “fine” in a race so long as you beat her.

There she was.

What was worse was that I couldn’t do anything about it because I could not shut down the pain and make my body move.

I had told myself that I could always just ride around the course and at least ride, but I wasn’t even able to do that because the descents were dangerous for me and the climbs without the fun of descents is just lame.

When I saw her in front of me, my head dropped and I knew I had just ruined my race…or what was left of it.

It was a dick move for me, but I own it.

I let a couple tri people go and sighed out loud…loudly.

I admit that I was not in a good place confidence-wise to be OK with it, and I walked away right before taking the big climb again.

I later found out that this person I had used as a catalyst for my quitting had accidentally cut the course, thus missing the big climb, but that mattered little if at all to me.

If I was able to walk away from the race that fast, it would have been some other lame excuse in some other lap if not this girl; the problem was me.

I did what I could to not burst into tears as I told Larry I was out and rolled with my head down over to my daughter.

Thankfully, I never have to make excuses to her and could tell her that I quit and that I didn’t have it.

Mentally, I had stressed myself out about it being my first local cx race of the season and running into people I would rather not.

I continue to be amazed at my ability to sabotage myself and be a head-case as soon as you pin a number to me, but at least now I know it while it is happening.

The next step will be to either get past it, or walk away from the cx racing thing entirely.

Let’s be honest though…the latter is not likely to happen so long as I have a pulse, so for now…my therapist is on speed dial…and thankfully, he is amused.

Mixing It Up a Little…

I have a few friends who are a bit “odd”.

They are also a little “contagious”.

These “weirdo” friends of mine like the tri thing.

They really dig it.

I mean…REALLY dig it.

Now that I have had the tiniest of nibbles from the tri pie…I get it.

By “get it” that does not mean I am signing up for that M-dot series or anything, but I get it.

Because I am awful at training but excellent at jumping in with both feet, I have set my sights on a few tri events this year…the XTERRA off-road tri series.

To be frank, jumping into a tri event with both feet isn’t exactly fun.  I did that exactly one time many moons ago and will never make that mistake again.

I was supposed to do a tri this upcoming weekend, but the events of the past 2 weeks sort of threw me for a loop and I didn’t train…other than running.

The “old Cory” would just do it anyway…

…but the semi-sane and semi-rational (and also more financially challenged and bigger assed) Cory is going to do the wise thing and skip it.

Instead, I will get back to my “training” and get excited about a really cool event happening here in St. Louis next month…

An Evening With Chrissie Wellington – 4-Time Ironman World Triathlon Champion.


You don’t know of her?

HOW is that possible?!?

I have never done an Ironman or a full tri and even I know who she is!

Chrissie is wicked cool, is a total badass, and likes cheese!

I love her!

Her smile is as big as the sun and her calves are as big as my head…and she still looks like a lady.

A badass lady.

I think regardless of whether or not you ever intend to do a tri event, Chrissie is a fascinating person from whom anyone could learn something.

Chrissie is going to discuss her book, A Life Without Limits, in which she intimates the story of her rise to the top, including all the incredible challenges she faced; from eating disorders, to the years spent traveling around the world as an aid worker in developing countries.

I am taking The Sass and you should take your kiddos (if you have them) too.

You may purchase an advance copy of the book for $25 online along with your $10 event ticket by clicking here.

A portion of all ticket and book sales will benefit St.Michael School of Clayton’s Tri-Art Summer Camp: Campers age 4-14 experience the thrill of being a three sport athlete, building personal endurance, and developing sportsmanship though triathlon training.

(How awesome is that?!?!)

I hope to see you there because it is going to be cool.  Very cool.

*Note: Many sweaty hugs to my tri-cray-cray friends Cristel, Christy, Brad, Teri, Kerrie, Donna, and Diane who always make me smile with their excitement and sometimes talk me into crazy shit too.   *smooches*  

Many thanks to Jennifer who is working her tookus off trying to make sure this event goes off without a hitch and that everyone knows about it and gets excited.

Thank you to the universe for creating a tri event that contains dirt and mud.


The Bittersweet Run

As they arranged your hair, and powdered your face, I laced up my ugly running shoes and put my earphones in my ears.

I turned the music on as loud as it would go and started running with my face to the sun.

I slid my sunglasses off my head and over my eyes and the tears poured down.

When I ran in New York and NJ, I ran with the hope that I would see you again.

That you would pedal again.  Dance again.  Be a wise ass again.

Today’s run was by far the hardest run I have ever done…because it was without hope of seeing those mischievous blue eyes again.

I ran anyway.

Every step hurt more than the last.

Every step seemed farther and farther away from you.

Once the clock turned to 2, it would all begin.

People would see you.

The lie I have told myself for the past 2 days would be revealed…

You are actually gone.

Worse, is that I know you were not running with me…because running is stupid and in my mind you are riding a hot pink Townie while your dogs chase you into the sun.

I just flicked a Skittle at your photo for sticking me with this running nightmare.

Tomorrow, each of us will all say goodbye to you differently…

…but I will carry you (and some Skittles) with me for the rest of my days, just as you carried me through the beginning of them.

Clear as Mud – A Dirty Girl’s First Tri

I did this little thing weekend before last that has confused some people.

I entered a tri (triathlon).  I know; I had to look it up in 2004 too.  Don’t feel ashamed for not knowing.


I sort of felt that I should probably try one out if I am going to continue to poke fun at my tri friends…

…and most of you will be happy to know that I still intend to do so.

So long as there are events with aero bars and running and until the people running are doing so whilst carrying said aero’d bikes, I will poke fun at tris.



And there you have it.

That said, I am likely to do a few more tris (as I mentioned last year) because my littlest, sweet Sass, likes them and it is the only sport she has ever been even vaguely interested in so I am supporting her on this.

So that I do not develop a twitch about the whole “swim-bike-run” thing, I have decided that I will do mostly off-road tris, specifically XTERRA events.


Simple.  I have no interest in swimming far distances or running far distances and the likelihood of having some mud at an XTERRA is far greater than at an Ironman.

Don’t get me wrong, I am exactly the type of personality who will do an Ironman event at some point just so I can say “suck it” to that one former Ironboyfriend who told me I was “too slow to get a road bike” and who now has man-titties.


…but for now, I still choose the dirt with a side of swim and jog.

So, for these reasons I did a little indoor tri the first weekend in March.

I won’t lie, I had stopped swimming the first week of February and had only run about once per week leading up to the event…because that is how I roll.  Slowly and in my comfort zone.

I stopped swimming because I am an ass.  As soon as I started making progress and relaxed, I let some stupid shit someone said to me wreck my head and I just stopped.

Once this happens, trying to get me to do something I do not want to do is like trying to walk a cat on a leash in a downpour.

(I would rather that you did not ask how I know this.)

I am one of the most stubborn people you will ever encounter when I want to be.  If I don’t want to be, you will feel as if the Universe has kissed your eyelids with a million sun-filled kisses.

So here we are on the morning of the event and because I was pretty smart and rode my bike the prior day with one of those Ironpeople in the cold and wind after staying out way too late the night before that, I of course had swollen glands and felt sickish.

I knew (KNEW) that regardless of said sick, I had to go do this tri thing because every one of the tri folk who know me knew I would find any (and every) excuse to skip this event.

I mean come on…Why would one ruin the zen that is a bike ride by RUNNING directly after it?!?!

I didn’t even run as a kid.

When I played softball that one year, I purposely/accidentally flung my bat after each hit so I would get thrown out of the game and not have to run with witness.

Once while running to first, I tripped and fell and was teased relentlessly and that was that with the running.  I was 11.

(Technically I did that very same thing when I was 16, but because I had boobies by then, the boys were all in a trance and no one noticed…sort of.)

So back to the tri…

While I am not a runner, I do not get freaked out by runs anymore and know I can do whatever distance.

Sure, I may not walk the next day, but I can and will do it.

Swimming was/is another animal entirely.

I could and did swim like a fish when I lived in Florida all those years and did not forget that when I moved here.  The problem is that fish swim under water….as they should.

(herrrr derrrrr!)

There are no free-styling, breast-stroking, butterflying fish.  They just effing swim.

I can do that.  I used to surf and snorkel.  I would spend HOURS in the water and never get tired.

However, it’s not “cool” to swim like that in a triathlon, so one has to learn a “structured swim”.

Yeah, I do REALLY well with structure…as long as I am the one dictating said structure.

The structured swim is like learning Flemish.  I just don’t see myself falling in love with it or doing it very well, yet I know it is important to the sport.

Swimming is to tris what beer hand-ups are to cx races.  I know that they are a big deal and yet I still believe I can get through the event without it.

For this reason, I watched the swim heat before mine.

Typically, I do not like to watch events before mine because I am frankly easy to mind fuck.

Watching the heat before mine was the wisest event decision I have made in a long time, which as someone who does not pre-ride courses, drink a lot of water the night before races, or get a lot of sleep, does not say a whole lot…but it was a good start for me.

I watched the 10 swimmers and felt a calmness wash over me and a smile expand across my face.

Some of those swimmers were doing things in that water that in normal circumstances might call for a rescue.

Some were beautiful; some were a mess.

Some were walking.  In the water.

I felt pretty good about things and knew that at a minimum, I would not drown and I would not walk, so I was good to go.

It was a 10 minute swim, so I had no idea how many laps I would get done, but was hoping for 10 and thinking based on my inability to breathe well that maybe I would get in 6.  I got in 13.  I am OK with this.

I did not die. I did not accidentally drown my lane partner, Crystal. I did not walk.

I had a plan to rotate between freestyle and backstroke every other lap, but after the 3rd lap, my “excitement” over doing an event where they write on your skin with a Sharpie took over and I flipped over to the backstroke and got my shit together.

When the whistle blew, I jumped out of the pool with a squeal and hugged Karl, the most patient swim mentor ever, and ran into the locker room (or T1 for the tri geeks out there).

I peeled off that swimsuit and hauled ass up to the super fast TT spin bikes.

I was the first one in my heat to the bikes.  SCORE!

It is another 3 minutes before the next person gets there and make no mistake, I was counting because that shit matters when you are in a suburban health club and need tri cred with the tri people.

Ask them; the transition is a big effing deal.

[Throws out “M dot” sign to the Ironpeople.]

That is why in real events I will be wearing one costume.  That is it.  I need all the time I can get.

(If you have met me or watched me race, you are nodding your head in agreement right now and I dig it; I like when you agree with me.  Doesn’t that feel nice?)

So, during the event, there are triathletes from Off the Front Racing who are there volunteering and being awesome and nice and Diane tells us that the bike computers are wonky.  That they “zero out” if you pedal over  55 “MPH”, which sounds fast in theory but in reality is not sweat-inducing…for almost anyone.

I mean, I may have felt wicked fast for a minute because it was effortless, but then I realized that everyone was as bored and sweatless as I was.

So with my hopes for anyone falling apart on the bike dashed, I decided to spin and Tweet my race updates until the run segment since the distance was maxed.

(I am an awful triathlete.)

Time to transition to the run and off I go…

I run into a friend and we hug and chat and I hit the treadmills.

First again!


I am nothing if not a great transitionalist.  (I just made that up.)  

In truth, it is easy to transition when you don’t have to grab actual equipment and don’t have to worry about getting to actual destinations other than other areas in the gym.

So the run starts and I am relaxed and just warm enough that I don’t cramp.

I don’t really want to talk about my run because I didn’t run it as I would in an actual event.  I did pyramid intervals to keep myself focused because treadmills suck and if I didn’t entertain myself, I would fall asleep and fall right off that damn thing.

(Don’t pretend that you don’t know in your head that this has already happened.  You know.)

Five minutes into the twenty minute run and all I am thinking is, “Seriously?  I poop like thrice a week and I have to go NOW?!?!”  

Yes; I really thought that because that is what my body felt like.  It is just not right to do this running nonesense to yourself.  You know why?  I did not actually have to poop.  In fact, I did not poop until Tuesday.  So any event that makes you feel like you have to poop when you do not, is just unnatural.

It is natural to run if you are being chased by that one girl from high school with the machete or if there is some other emergency during which a bicycle or helicopter will not do, but otherwise, no.

I have a friend who was with the frowny face this weekend because he only got in 15 miles of his planned 16 mile run.

[Shakes head.]

If you ever catch me saying this shit, consider this free license to smack the snot out of me.

I believe that any sport which makes you sad after it or makes your feet ugly should be avoided and from what I can tell, a bad day on the bike is still way better than the best run.  Perhaps that’s why runners only smile at the END of their events…and why so many switch to cycling after they grind their knees to nubs on the inside.

Anyway, when the event was over, I hugged some people, got in the velowagon and headed to the mtb trails to have some actual fun…because the type of athlete I am is as clear as mud….as it should be.

*Note: I would like to thank all my tri friends who let me poke fun in jest at their sport.  The dedication to your sport and training is awe-inspiring and I am fine to watch you do all that work.  You have all been ridiculously patient and kind to me and regardless of the jokes, I love watching you swim.  Watching the swim is one of the most relaxing things I like to do.  Thank you for all the tips, support, and cheers.  Eventually, I will do your “M Dot” thing and I will suck at it, but I look forward to it if not simply because you are all a super fun group of people and are not in fact “from another planet” as I oft state.   Much love and smooches.