Week 10 of my 17-week training block: I’m now past the halfway point, so things are starting to get real.
This was an easy week that culminated in Saturday’s Cow Harbor 10K. Other than the race, I ran three days. Tuesday was an easy 7 miles. Over the last couple of months, my “easy” has gone from roughly 9:30-10:00 to 8:50-9:20 per mile, and I ran this 7 miles comfortably at an average 9:10 pace. (Glute activation exercises and more, courtesy of the amazing Jessica from #Runpainfree, have helped immensely. Also, have not had foot pain in almost two months!)
Wednesday I ran 8 miles, two of which were about an 8:25 pace (probably faster than my marathon pace will be, but wanted to feel it out). Friday I ran an easy 3 to loosen up for Saturday’s Cow Harbor.
I took Sunday off with some yoga, saving my long run for the following day (week 11).
I’ve already posted a bunch of photos of Cow Harbor in my recap, but here is one I didn’t. My friend Deby took this before the race in her backyard. Like me, she loves to take pictures.
Reminder: I am running the marathon in my dad’s memory and writing stories about him here!
I originally intended for these stories to be in chronological order, but it hasn’t exactly worked out that way. Still, I’ve focused so far on his early life and my childhood.
At this point, I will move the stories a bit forward in time to the 90s and early 00s.
Both of my parents were always great about supporting their kids at events, concerts, and more. They were very present parents. I was heavily involved in music in high school (yes, I was a music nerd), and my parents attended almost every choir, band, and orchestra concert I was in. (I played clarinet in high school, and at times was good enough to be one of a few woodwinds in the orchestra.)
In college, I’d given up the clarinet but continued singing in choir. In my junior year, my parents drove together from Long Island to Albany to attend a concert for Albany Pro Musica, a choir I was lucky enough to sing with a few times. My mom and dad were divorced by then, but they apparently got along well enough that two long car rides together in one day weren’t enough of a deterrent if it meant they could be there for me.
Fast forward to my 20s, where I spent most of the decade as a singer/songwriter in NYC. My parents, still living on Long Island, came to so many of my shows. I’m still not sure if they thought I was wasting my time (to be honest, I kind of was), but they gave me nothing but support.
They were always so nice to my friends, fellow musicians in the show, and audience members. They would tell their friends and colleagues about me, and invited anyone they could to come see my shows. I think they were proud of me.
Here are some photos I’ve managed to scrounge up from that period of my life. Apologies in advance, as many were taken with digital cameras that, existing in the early aughts, did not take high quality pics. I tried to salvage them in Photoshop. They are what they are.
All of these photos were taken before or after my shows.
I’ll start with my favorite: my parents sitting in the middle of a dingy basement somewhere in NYC. I can’t remember exactly where this was. But they drove into the city just to see me play.
They were cool like that.