Embarrassment of Riches

St. Michaels

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Tue, 22 May 2012 10:48:00 +0000

Shawn and I never need an excuse to visit St. Michaels, Maryland, but back in February, when my parents excitedly told us about their town's inaugural running festival, we all decided to sign up for one of the races (half marathon, 10K, and 5K). I had the good sense to remember that running a half marathon two weeks after a full one is not optimal, so I registered for the middle distance.

That was the right call. My quads have finally recovered from the downhills of Toronto, but I've had a serious aversion - all totally mental - toward running more than six miles at a time since the marathon.

Image by Kathy Bosin of the Talbot Spy. I've decided my blue Tempos are my lucky racing shorts.

Because my race was a (comparatively) short distance and I didn't have a goal in mind (after pacing myself for a marathon, I had no idea how fast I should be running a 10K), I was able to concentrate on having fun. I waved at the smattering of spectators cheering from the sidewalks and thanked volunteers even more effusively than I normally do. I had a huge smile on my face the entire time (mostly because I was happy to be running 20 miles fewer than my last race). The race organizers did a spectular job with this event, and I was incredibly proud for the town. And I ended up finishing in 51 minutes and 53 seconds - sixth in my division (out of 91!) and 58th out of 398 overall.

With our respective races out of the way, we could focus on our less-taxing itinerary of sunbathing on the dock, a booze cruise on our speedboat, dinner in nearby Easton, a visit to the Maritime Museum, several naps, and a trip to Target (such a novel thing for city-dwellers).

There's something so wonderful about piling into the car with our dog and our dirty laundry (we don't even pack anything; we just take our hampers and wear what we wash) to spend a few days in such a low-key environment.

Chanel

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Mon, 14 May 2012 10:05:00 +0000

The experience of running a marathon is rewarding in and of itself, but I'd be lying if I said there weren't times - especially during training - when some extrinsic motivation helped. I got a raise (with back pay!) last fall and have been holding off on a splurge until I crossed the finish line in Toronto.

Vintage Jumbo XL Chanel Flap

The thrill of victory: the Toronto Goodlife Fitness Marathon (updated with epilogue)

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Fri, 11 May 2012 11:19:00 +0000

As Shawn drove me north toward the start on Sunday morning, I tried not to focus on just how far we were traveling away from downtown Toronto - distance I'd be covering again shortly on foot. As 7:30 AM approached and the small crowd of marathon runners surged toward the start line, I thought about the time two years back when I would have given anything to run another marathon. The road to recovery from a fractured pelvis finally ended there, at Mel Lastman Square.

I knew that putting time in the bank at the start of the marathon would eventually come back to haunt me. Still, with all the downhills in the first half, it was hard for me to stick to my goal pace of a nine-minute mile. I had plenty of room (the course was never crowded) and lots of interesting surroundings to distract myself with. For the first six miles, the route took me down Yonge Street, which was lined with restaurants and shops. I had studied the elevation map obsessively, and sure enough, the lone giant hill happened right after the three-mile mark. "It's all downhill from here," I reassured myself at the top. How horribly correct I was.

Running down Yonge in a pack. After the race, I like to look up the finish times of the people around me near the beginning.

After turning off Yonge, there were a few winding miles through the beautiful residential neighborhoods of Forest Hill and Casa Loma, and then a gloriously shaded stretch of Rosedale Valley Road. We seemed so inconsequential as we ran through the swath of road bound by imposingly tall trees. This was by far my favorite part of the race.

The morning after the race, we retraced the first 14 miles of the course in our rental car. I took this picture from the front seat.

That happiness is not an act. Total runner's high.

I knew I'd see Shawn at mile 14, so I soldiered through an unsightly industrial stretch after Rosedale Valley Road toward Front Street. Because I was several minutes ahead of schedule (no doubt thanks to the downhills), I stopped long enough for him to refill my handheld bottle with water and tear the safety seal off a Gatorade (damn you, Gatorade). This split ended up being my slowest of the race, at 10 minutes and 19 seconds. He gave me a bag of ice and I was on my way.

At around this point, the front of my ankles started to cramp up, a bizarre feeling I had never experienced before. I'd later realize that the significant downhills from the first half of the course were the culprit. Before I knew it, I had 16 miles behind me and I was feeling remarkably strong, ankle cramps notwithstanding. Soon I was heading up an overpass that would deliver me to the dreaded part (the remainder of the race): the out and back along Lake Ontario.

My view for 9 endless miles. Shawn took this shot while he was waiting for me. He has a short account of the race from his perspective, along with some pictures, here.

Starting out on Lakeshore Drive: still happy, and still on pace to come in under 4 hours.

I had enough knowledge of the route to know that for several miles, I had to run west along the water before I could turn around and run east toward the finish. To add insult to injury, all I had to do was glance to my right to see the eastbound runners coming at me. Talk about a morale blow. I desperately tried to remember the course map: at what mile would we turn around? WHY had I paid such close attention to the elevation chart but failed to memorize the route? My Garmin was set so that it wouldn't show distance, and because I didn't have a firm grasp on kilometers (seeing as we were in Canada, there were no mile markers), I didn't know how many miles were left. All I knew was that each step I took heading west was another I'd have to cover on my way back east, and it was excruciating. I developed a strategy at each fluid station: drink a cup of Gatorade, refill my handheld, and douse myself with a cup of water, all as fast as I could with absolutely no walking. I was soaked, but the cold, wet fabric felt marvelous. What didn't feel so wonderful were my feet squishing inside my shoes, which I accidentally doused too. When I estimated that I had about 6 miles to go, I reminded myself that my usual morning run is that length. With few spectators, a highway to one side, and runners to my other, I tried to pretend I was loping along Atlantic Avenue toward the Brooklyn Bridge on a cool, dark morning.

I was aware that my goal of coming in under four hours had evaporated (looking back at my Garmin, mile 22 was the nail in the coffin), but I was set on finishing well under my PR of 4:09.45. When I saw Shawn on the sideline, it meant I was at mile 25. I could only focus on one thing - finishing - so I barely acknowledged my husband. I flung my handheld at his feet and snatched a bottle of Gatorade from his outstretched hand and kept going.

Shawn thoughtfully had iced my race fluids. Best support crew a girl could ask for.

I did not have the mental capacity to focus on anything but finishing. My lungs were fine but my legs were like lead; another sensation I'd never experienced in past marathons or long training runs (again, those downhills were probably the cause). Little did I know Shawn was running behind me (in his boat shoes) for about a quarter mile. When he finally stopped running, he watched me continue on, weaving around walkers and passing other runners (according to my stats, I passed 73 of them in the final 7 kilometers. Only 6 passed me.) I was hell-bent on getting to the end. About a quarter of a mile before 26, my friend Lindsay jumped in with me. All I remember asking her was how close I was to being done. Right before we got to the turn to the finish, she said "you've got this - I'm going to let you run in on your own." After turning, she was correct - the finish line was right there.

And about five feet before it, I collapsed.

Lindsay, who saw everything from a few dozen yards behind, described it as a "slow crumple." My legs simply gave out. Everyone gasped. It seemed like an eternity and a blink of an eye all at the same time. My right knee broke my fall. "This CANNOT be happening," I thought to myself. I distinctly remember hoping that the race photographers would have mercy on me and not capture the moment.

A runner next to me grabbed my left arm, a man grabbed my right, and I heard someone yell "she wants to finish!" And they were correct. I desperately wanted to finish. The next thing I knew I was across the final timing mat (at, officially, 4 hours, 6 minutes, and 58 seconds after starting) and ushered into a wheelchair. In the medical tent, I tried to convince the revolving cast of nurses and doctors that my legs failed me - nothing worse than that. No, I hadn't blacked out or hit my head - I was completely lucid. (See, look at my sanitizing wipes that I'm using to disinfect my own skinned, bloody knee with!) I was well-hydrated, I assured them. This wasn't my first marathon. I had eaten plenty before and during the race. My blood pressure and -sugar checked out fine. By this point, my calves, ankles, and feet were cramping unbearably and I wanted to find Shawn, who wouldn't even dream to look for me in the medical tent.

After I was finally discharged, I claimed my medal and posed with it.

Then I waited, rather forlornly, for Shawn to find me. When he did, I burst into tears. I couldn't have run this race without my husband, who sacrificed his share of the bread basket every Friday night, put up with my 5 AM wake-up calls each Saturday morning, and knew I wouldn't quit training even when I doubted myself. After my long runs, he relished telling people how far I had just traveled: "Can I have a glass of water please? It's for my wife; she just ran 20 miles." At customs crossing into Canada, the border agent asked us the reason for our travel. Shawn could have simply said "vacation," but he proudly proclaimed "my wife is running the Toronto marathon!" He told every taxi driver, bartender, and waiter Sunday night about my accomplishment earlier that day.

I also owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my friend Lindsay, who messaged me out of the blue on Facebook last week to tell me she was driving to Toronto from Buffalo to watch the race. (Incredible!) Lindsay is my running hero; shortly after I fractured my pelvis, she was afflicted with the exact same injury. She bore this setback much more gracefully than I did, and conquered the NYC marathon soon after she recovered. It was so fitting that we ran together at the very end of this race.

Finally, how can I ever truly thank the good samaritans who helped me at the finish? It happened so quickly that I didn't get a chance to express my gratitude to them. (I've located the runner in pink, Maxine, with the help of Google and we've been emailing back and forth. Her words now, several days after the race, are as comforting as her help was then.)

The verdict is still out on whether this marathon falls into the thrill of victory category, or the agony of defeat one. I go back and forth. It's hard not to let the final few feet of my race overshadow the 26-plus miles of glorious, heartfelt running that came before it. And unfortunately, this tale has an epilogue. I'm sad to say it may not be a happy one, and it's coloring my view of the whole run. Perhaps it's a story for another day.

Epilogue

It's official. I finished with a new PR of 4 hours, 6 minutes, and 58 seconds. If you read the comments to this post, you'll see that, unbelieveably, my other hero found me. I am still speechless over this and have often been moved to tears these past two days at the sheer kindness of humanity. And I'm floored at how supportive you guys are. You're the best, seriously.

Thank you

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Thu, 10 May 2012 12:14:00 +0000

Your encouraging words meant the world to me. Marathon report to come soon, I promise. For now though, I'm beat (as is Chloe).

On Your Marks...

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Sat, 05 May 2012 18:30:00 +0000

I've logged over 480 miles to ready myself for tomorrow's marathon, but clearly I believe preparation extends to packing as well. A low-maintenance runner I'm not.

Not pictured: my handheld water bottle, a spare pair of socks, a second watch, an extra stick of Body Glide, additional packages of GU, ziploc baggies (for ice), a garbage bag (to sit on at the start), pretzel croissants from City Bakery, and several outfits for the times when I won't be running.

I'm ready.

P.S. If you can figure out what the latex gloves are for, you know me too well.

NYC Diary: Ilenia of It Can Be a Lover

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Fri, 04 May 2012 19:13:00 +0000

Today's NYC Diary entry was penned by Ilenia, whose achingly beautiful photography can be found on her blog It Can Be a Lover. I admired her work from afar for quite some time before finally meeting her, and I'm thrilled to now be both her fan and her friend. Because she hails from Italy, I suggest you read this in the voice of a chic, accented young woman:

Thank you Ilenia for your contribution to this feature!

Pilgrimage to Laduree

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Tue, 01 May 2012 12:58:00 +0000

I don't often get to the Upper East Side, but when I found myself there with friends on Sunday, I realized I had the perfect opportunity to finally visit Laduree. As I stood in the quick-moving line, I practiced my order: "Bonjour! Je voudrais huit macarons s'il vous plait." Then realized I wouldn't have to rely on my rusty French!

The macarons were wonderfully fresh (they must have just gotten a shipment), with salted caramel being my favorite. The only unpleasant surprise were the almond specimens, which had marshmallow, not traditional, filling.

New Amsterdam Market's Bread Pavillion

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 10:55:00 +0000

Lower Manhattan's New Amsterdam Market kicked off the season with a bread pavillion yesterday. Unlike some of their past themes (fish, meat), this was one I could really get on board with. I tried a sample from each of the 15 merchants who were offering tastes; there were no losers. Although the olive oil brioche and the apple cider loaf (from Roberta's and Bread Alone, respectively) were particularly delicious, ultimately we went home with a simple, crusty ciabatta loaf from Il Buco Alimentari.

The New Amsterdam Market is held on Sundays in late spring and summer from 11 - 4 (check their calendar before you go).

Eat It: Pecan Pie French Toast at Buttermilk Channel

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 19:07:00 +0000

This morning my training plan called for just ten miles. With the marathon only a week away, the "hay is in the barn" - all of the tough work is done, and I just have to bide my time til next Sunday. I'd like to magically fast-forward til then instead of tapering, but since that's not possible, I'm considering a full-body bubble-wrap suit and a gas mask in the meantime.

Those ten miles? They were mentally difficult, and I found myself turning on my iPod Shuffle before the two-mile mark to zone out. Not every run is an easy one (it's always impossible for me to predict in advance), but I'll take a dozen tough short runs if it means an easy one by comparison on marathon day. Afterward, we had to abandon our breakfast Plan A (606 R&D's donut machine was being repaired), but were able to walk through the doors of Buttermilk Channel just as they opened at 10 AM (there'd be a wait otherwise). A cup of coffee, a complimentary glass of sparkling wine, and a plate of my favorite French toast in the city (thick brioche drowning in a syrup that's essentially the melted innards of pecan pie), and we were ready to face the day (the agenda of which turned out to be a three-hour nap).

My Week in Review

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 13:33:00 +0000

My week got off to a rocky start when a group of construction workers screamed at me for running (literally) right into their freshly-poured concrete. Fortunately it turned around from there. Here are highlights from my week...nothing earth-shattering, but it's sometimes the little things, right?

For the first time, we took advantage of the Tribeca Film Festival. I scored tickets to a showing of Lola Versus, but I didn't realize it was the world premiere. There was a red carpet! And flash bulbs! It was really neat. The movie, about a young New Yorker's journey after being dumped three weeks before her wedding, was funny and smart. It was just what I needed.

We recently took our pup to the vet at Petsmart for her vaccinations and ended up signing up for their preventative wellness plan. For thirty dollars a month, visits, vaccines, tests, and an annual teeth-cleaning are covered. On Tuesday, she went in for the latter (we were beside ourselves with worry because general anesthesia is involved). The vet warned us that she would need extractions, which are not covered by the plan, because her teeth were in bad shape (we didn't brush them like we should, and hadn't ever had them cleaned). All in all, they took eight teeth out - but only charged us for one extraction, saving us over $1,400. But more importantly, Chloe was well cared-for and is now completely herself again (priceless). I definitely can't say enough good things about Banfield's Optimum Wellness Plan.

I've been eagerly anticipating my copy of May's Bon Appetit, but each day came and went with no magazine. When it finally arrived, I was disproportionately happy. And I did a double-take when I saw this L'Occitane shea butter at Sephora. Years ago, Shawn bought their Eau de Miel scent for me, and I was crushed when they discontinued it. This shea butter, unlike subsequent honey lines L'Occitane has introduced, smells exactly like Eau de Miel.

I hope your week was filled with highlights, too. Have a great weekend!

If You Find Yourself In...North Slope

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 20:15:00 +0000

Today's featured neighborhood for my "If You Find Yourself In..." series is one near and dear to my heart: my own! Park Slope is full of beautiful brownstones on tree-lined streets, but it also has a reputation for being somewhat of a culinary wasteland. When we moved here, I was relieved to discover that, while crossing Flatbush Avenue yields even better drinking and dining options (have no fear, Prospect Heights will get the "If You Find Yourself In..." treatment in the future), North Slope has some gems if you know where to look. (Also, the stereotype that Park Slope is full of self-righteous stroller-pushers is thankfully unfounded in the north end of the community.)

If you find yourself in the area (say, for a show at BAM, hopefully this guide will be helpful to you.

606 R&D

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 11:15:00 +0000

It seems each week Eater or Grub Street brings word of a new restaurant slated to open on Vanderbilt Avenue. 606 R&D sounded particularly promising, with the owner hailing from City Bakery and a Kickstarter-funded donut machine. Best of all, it's only a few blocks away. We've been three times - first for drinks (twists on our favorites: an old fashioned made with brown sugar and parsnip syrups; a negroni with a float of lambrusco on top), then dinner (when I reluctantly admitted their macaroni and cheese is better than mine), and this past Saturday, brunch. It's a rare restaurant that I enjoy visiting at any time of day (usually I'm partial to a place for either morning or evening service). That donut machine turns out the tenderest, lightest cake specimens I've ever had. Settling in after a run to one of those with a pot of French press and some tofu scramble (pictured) or their signature horseradish sandwich (which I've not yet been bold enough to try) makes for a wonderful start to the weekend.

Recent Loves: Emily Edition

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 13:36:00 +0000

I am spoiled: I visited my best friend a few weeks ago, but because work has brought me back to Washington DC, I get to see her again so soon. This installment of current favorites is dedicated to Emily, because she turned me on to everything on this list, and because I am reuniting with her tonight at her favorite sushi spot.

1. For my last visit, Emily made sure to have english muffins (my go-to fuel before a long run) on hand. They weren't just any english muffins, though: they were Wolferman's, and let me tell you, they put my Thomas multi-grain lights to shame. They were about three times as thick and so much heartier tasting. I was full until mile 10 of our half marathon.

2. Apparently my friends are terrified I will judge their clothing choices. That they think my supposed sartorial wrath would extend to them makes me so sad. But Emily needn't have feared when she broke out her striped espadrille flats. Soludos are shoes I have meant to buy each summer (much like Saltwater sandals) but somehow have never gotten around to it. She looked so chic in hers that I vowed to get a pair for myself (SWF alert).

3. This is where I have to admit that I used the pricey shower gel in Emily's bath caddy. With a name like "It's Raining Men," I was prepared for something musky and masculine and was pleasantly surprised by the light, sweet honey scent. I promptly bought myself a bottle.

4. I'm not as good about hydration as I should be. I like vitaminwater zero, but I still find it too caloric (I kid! I kid! I find it too flavorful). Emily has a great trick - dilute it with water. Now I pick up a bottle of Rise (the orange flavor) every morning on my way to the office and pour it into my big plastic cup of ice and water throughout the day.

5. There's nothing worse than having to fuss with your hair during a run, and I was doing just that thanks to bad layers that couldn't be tamed by bobby pins. Emily's endorsement of Sweatybands prompted me to order this simple black one. It truly doesn't slip, and even though my head is gigantic, doesn't cause any discomfort.

6. Emily loves hummus so much that her coworkers served it instead of cake on her birthday. (Girl goes through at least a tub a day.) She's a hummus connoisseur, and her favorite is now mine as well. Cava's spicy hummus is so hot that, as I learned the hard way, you shouldn't absentmindedly touch your eye after you've been eating it. It's also the fluffiest I've ever had. I stocked up at Whole Foods in DC since it's not available in the NY area or online. (When I looked at my receipt and exclaimed how much I spent on hummus, she replied "that's a drop in the bucket for me.")

The Brooklyn Bridge

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 13:16:00 +0000

Starting back in 2002, we visited New York from Indianapolis nearly every spring, and Shawn would occasionally walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. I always refused, mainly because I envisioned a narrow shoulder with cars whizzing by, but a small part of me also feared the iconic landmark would be attacked while I happened to be traversing it. Eventually I realized the pedestrian walkway was elevated from traffic, and I was letting terrorists and Godzilla win by not setting foot on the bridge. Once we moved to Brooklyn, the bridge became the best part of my weekday runs.

I love the rickety wooden slats, the smell of paint and gasoline fumes from ongoing construction, and reaching the point where the bridge levels out from a deceptively steep incline. The skyline is magical, what with the progress on the World Trade Center's construction, the occasionally still-lit Empire State Building, and the art deco top of the Chrysler Building. My favorite thing, though, is the man who greets me most mornings. (This isn't the first mention of him.) One of these times I am going to stop and walk with him a bit, to tell him how much I look forward to seeing him and how disappointed I am on the days when we miss each other.

The Brooklyn Bridge and I had a rocky few weeks back in January, after an early-morning reveler decided to give me a scare on New Year's day. For a while, I thought I'd have to find a new route, because running across the bridge provoked an involuntary, irrational, but nerve-fraying response. Thankfully we're on good terms again, because running across the Manhattan Bridge just wouldn't be the same.

Coffee Break

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 13:08:00 +0000

A few shots of Hungry Ghost, a coffee shop that opened (just today!) right around the corner from us:

This is just the latest of several spaces Shawn and I have eagerly watched transform from vacant storefront to (hopefully thriving) local business - Prospect Heights is such an exciting neighborhood to live so close to.

Training Update

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 14:20:00 +0000

With the Toronto Marathon less than a month away, a few notes on running (apologies to the non-runners, who will no doubt find this post terribly boring)...

Shawn finally went to a sports medicine doctor (at my insistence), who got to the root of his extreme leg pain while running. It turns out he has compressed discs in his back that are causing nerve pain, which the pounding of running exacerbates. The prescription? Physical therapy to stretch and strengthen. Running is prohibited indefinitely. And bless Shawn, based on his text messages, he must have gone straight from the doctor's office to the hardware store to buy me pepper spray for my now-solo early-morning runs. (It's so small - about the size of a lipstick tube, as you can see - that I can easily carry it in my hand!) In the past few months, Shawn came to associate running with pain, and had grown to hate it. The lengths he would go to to avoid running were creative - he would "forget" to wash his dirty running shorts, or drink a few extra beers in order to have a hangover as an excuse not to run. He is taking his long-overdue diagnosis remarkably well, and isn't at all crushed about not running the Toronto marathon.

Something perplexing kept happening after my long runs. Within an hour or two of finishing, I'd feel weak. My body temperature would alternate between feverish and chilled to the bone. I'd become nauseous to the point of nearly vomiting. I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the rest of the day away. The first time, I assumed it was food poisoning (sorry City Bakery!). The second time, I chalked it up to my long-run fuel (GU Chomps, which I used to eat with no problem in the past). The third time, I decided I must be coming down with a bad cold. By the fourth time, I was beginning to believe Shawn's assertion that long runs were simply taking a toll on my body in a way they didn't used to (his nice way of saying I'm just getting old). Then I happened to pick up a Runner's World at the airport on my way home from Nashville. One essay mentioned, as an aside, that you should never take ibuprofen before a long run. Wait, what? Hold the phone. I had gotten in the habit of doing exactly that to stave off pain and inflammation, figuring four ibuprofen were okay since I had food on board, too. Apparently, aside from the stomach discomfort ibuprofen can cause, dehydration from a long run can make your kidneys' abilities to safely process the drug much more difficult. (There's a great article on this here). I've since axed the ibuprofen and, sure enough, haven't felt like death after long runs. In case of emergencies (I get bad headaches on occassion), I picked up some Tylenol so that I won't be tempted to reach for the ibuprofen.

During a marathon, you don't get to pause the clock to pop into the drug store for a bottle of water, so I figure during the rest of my training runs I needed to replicate the conditions of the race. That means carrying my own water on training runs and drinking it while running instead of stopping to buy some. My hope is that the hand-held above will be easier to grip than a typical water bottle. I'll report back after Saturday's 20-miler. If it's a success, I may even carry this hand-held bottle for the first portion of the race, to avoid the more crowded water stations. (Water stations are a blessing - for obvious reasons - but also a curse. You have to cross traffic to make sure you're on the correct side, avoid other runners as they swerve and stop suddenly, and be on the lookout for debris. It's no wonder that I feel the same anxiety approaching them that I experience as a driver, while entering and exiting the highway.) I have two time goals - one is completely reasonable; the other ambitious - but neither are going to be met unless I never stop running during those 26.2 miles.

This Past Week

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 14:31:00 +0000

Shawn, having successfully chosen both teams that made it to the NCAA mens basketball final, walloped me in our little bet this year. We had wagered a meal of the winner's choice; Shawn requested biscuits and (vegetarian sausage) gravy. If he had his druthers, he'd eat it every day (along with pizza), but I'm loathe to make it very often because of the amount of butter the biscuits call for. I've been using the recipe for Peels' biscuits ever since Food & Wine published it, and this batch turned out even better than usual.

Amanda and I met up at the newish Bowery Diner after work last week, where we split a decadent grilled cheese with fries and each indulged in a milkshake (chocolate-peanut butter for her; pistachio-strawberry for me). Our experience definitely didn't mirror the negative reviews on Yelp; I'd return again in a heartbeat.

We checked out the pop-up pizza place in DUMBO. Wild Rise is only open on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday evenings in the back of 68 Jay Street Bar. As far as Neopolitan pizzas go, this was among the better I've had, though I ate it (no, inhaled it) on an empty stomach after running 20 miles earlier in the day.

On any given day (even in the dead of winter) we absolutely love where we live, but with the blossoms that have sprung up in Park Slope, we are even more enamored of home. This is a few houses down from us, and around the corner on 5th Avenue, the entire street has been lined in blooming trees. (Shawn took some beautiful shots at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, too - particularly this and this.)

We both are back in the cool crowd now that we have iPhones again (I kid, I kid!). A combination of luck and kindness got us early upgrades. The 4S does indeed have a good camera, and we found ourselves joining Instagram immediately (despite our occasional derision of it in the past). In related news, my Lenten ban on twitter is now over!

After breakfast at Prime Meats yesterday, we happened upon an alley of homes with tiny doors built into the side of each stoop. I'm sure there is a much better explanation for the arrangement than "every home on this street has a live-in oompa loompa," but that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

For days, three black bananas have been mocking me from our kitchen counter, so in a burst of productivity, I whipped up something with them before work this morning. This Smitten Kitchen recipe was incredibly forgiving (I used a combination of white sugar and maple syrup because I didn't have any brown sugar on hand...and because I was running low on butter [thanks to the aforementioned biscuits], I supplemented it with walnut oil). It was the best banana bread I have ever tasted.

NYC Diary: Daina of New York State of Mind

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Fri, 06 Apr 2012 17:47:00 +0000

Once my friend Vanessa put New York State of Mind on my radar, I was instantly a fan. Its author, Daina, is sickeningly gorgeous, but she is also genuinely, incredibly sweet. And - a gal after my own heart - she has a weakness for ice cream. I had been silently lurking on her blog for a while when she commented on mine (such a great "it's a small world after all" occurrence).

One of the reasons I enjoy Daina's blog so much is that girl gets around. Whether she's taking her students on field trips or exploring different neighborhoods on the weekends, Daina definitely takes advantage of all the city has to offer, which is apparent in her NYC Diary answers. Thanks for participating Daina!

Woodworking with Gowanus Furniture - Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 13:51:00 +0000

Last Friday we headed back to Makeville Studios to finish our cutting boards. The second visit was even more hands-on than the first, what with all the planing and routing and sanding we did. (When I say "we" I mean "Shawn." If I'm terrified by the potential negative consequences of lit candles and convertible cars, how do you think I feel about power tools?)

Shawn's a natural, no? I think it's the checked flannel shirt.

The protective glasses probably weren't necessary, but better safe than sorry! I may be smiling here, but it's all an act for the cameras.

A classmate's board, for use at the barbecue joint he's opening in Bushwick.

My favorite part was at the very end, when I coated our board in a mixture of aromatic oils.

Boards drying - ours is on the top.

If you want to make your very own cutting board, leave a comment - I have $15 off coupons to give away to the first two takers who are absolutely sure they'll sign up for class. This weekend Pete and Gowanus Furniture will be at the Brooklyn Flea, which is heading outdoors for the first time this year, so do stop by his booth if you go!

I'm Guesting at In Pursuit of Style!

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 13:01:00 +0000

When my friend Sonia of In Pursuit of Style asked if I'd be willing to contribute a guest post while she was out of the country, I was flattered but terrified. Fashion blogging is definitely not my forte, and I knew I'd disappoint her readers - so accustomed to Sonia's chic, effortless ensembles - if I attempted it.

So because Sonia recently shared her NYC Diary with me, I decided to return the favor and introduce her readers to this feature by participating too. Head over to In Pursuit of Style for my entry!

Bored To Death & our neighborhood

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 13:50:00 +0000

We don't have a television, but one of the few shows we make a point to watch on DVD is HBO's Bored to Death. Have you seen it? Jason Schwartzman plays Jonathan, a struggling writer turned private detective, Ted Danson is George, his publishing-scion friend, and Zach Galifinakis is Ray, their comic-book author buddy. In nearly every episode of season 2, we were able to spot haunts from our neighborhood.

In season 2's third episode, two thugs kidnap Jonathan and hold him over the Gowanus Canal, threatening to dump him in, which terrifies him because "the Gowanus Canal has gonorrhea."

In season 2 episode 4, Ray visits Bergen Street Comics (right around the corner from us!) to collect his sudden windfall from sales of "Super Ray."

In season 2's fifth episode, Ray spills iced coffee on a baby in the cafe Building on Bond.

In the same eipsode, Ray dumps Kristen Wiig's character and then accidentally punches Kevin Bacon at the Brooklyn Inn.

The premiere episode of season 2 finds Ray on a bench in Prospect Park, depressed that Leah dumped him. (Prospect Park makes repeated appearances throughout all three seasons.)

There are plenty of comprehensive location guides for Bored to Death (including this one and HBO's own website), but these spots in particular are ones we pass every day and recognized immediately. Sadly, HBO cancelled Bored to Death, so I'll never have the opportunity to happen upon it being filmed myself.

*That last photo is one of Shawn's film shots.

20 Miles

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 14:33:00 +0000

What better way to celebrate your wedding anniversary than waking up at 6 AM to run 20 miles alone? After a sumptuous late-night dinner at Daniel, I fell asleep in the wee hours of Sunday morning only have the alarm go off a short while later. I kissed Shawn goodbye before heading out the door, knowing he'd be waiting for me at City Bakery.

My last two long runs have been miserable. Sure, I finished both, but it wasn't pretty. After each, I threw in the towel on the Toronto marathon. Something keeps compelling me to pick it up again, and yesterday I was glad I did. I knew during the first two miles that it was going to be a good run. There would be no declarations of quitting this time. I took in the blooming trees and the sprouting bulbs. I counted dog breeds. I thought about Shawn, waiting for me at the finish. After exiting Central Park, I held back happy tears while running south on Broadway. I was so grateful.

As I approached our meeting spot, my Garmin indicated I had run 19.96 miles. I passed the giant windows of City Bakery and looked in to see Shawn looking out at me. I held up a finger to say "one sec - I'll be right there." He said I flew by in such a blur that it took him a moment to realize I was hellbent on registering a full 20 miles. I did, then I collapsed at a table and reviewed my splits while Shawn waited in line for pretzel croissants. I couldn't believe my eyes: even without him there to keep my pace up, I was able to do it on my own.

I came home to a package, even though we had agreed that we wouldn't get each other anniversary presents. "This isn't an anniversary present, it's a running gift," Shawn protested. I unwrapped the kraft paper to find the Kate Spade clutch I had mentioned (with a "please do not even consider buying this; it's far too expensive" disclaimer) several weeks ago.

I have enough pride in my running to go around, so I don't expect friends and family to care about it too. In fact, my first inclination is to keep races a secret from them. Shawn sees my finished 20-miler as cause for celebration when he just as easily could be bitter that he's injured or annoyed that I spent almost three hours running on our anniversary. It's why I always refer to him as my better half. He was certain I could do this run alone. He always has more faith in me than I have in myself.

P.S. Would you believe this dress is different from the top I wore to woodworking class? It's a sickness, this love of stripes.

Woodworking with Gowanus Furniture

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 16:41:00 +0000

Shawn, being the urban woodsman that he is, signed himself up for a woodworking class. It's right up his alley in the same way that macaron-baking seminars really speak to me. He had been admiring Gowanus Furniture's cutting boards and realized that instead of simply buying one, he should get his hands dusty and make it himself. Helpers were allowed to tag along, so I went with him last Friday, despite my misgivings about losing a finger.

The man behind Gowanus Furniture Co is Pete, a totally endearing suit-turned-artisan who makes quitting one's job to become a cheesemaker almost seem plausible. Not that I want to do that or anything. (For the story behind Gowanus Furniture, this interview is great.) Pete supplied us with local "snackage" (see? adorable), including the hottest thing I have ever put in my mouth (twice). He told us about Makeville Studios (anyone, after taking an orientation course, can schedule studio time there), explained how he sources wood, and showed us the products he sells. Obviously he described how he makes his cutting boards, and even though I didn't sign a nondisclosure agreement, I won't divulge any of his secrets.

We sorted through pine, cherry, and walnut pieces to create our masterpiece. Gowanus Furniture boards can be customized by arranging the slats in patterns to signify morse code, but ours doesn't have any particular meaning. However, if you're my friend and you get married soon, I can pretty much guarantee you'll be receiving a personalized cutting board from Gowanus Furniture Co as your wedding present.

We head back tonight to finish and oil our boards. I'll post pictures next week of the finished product. I'm awfully proud of our work-in-progress (shown with a classmate's board below), which I can't claim a whole lot of credit for (other than its design). As if the experience hasn't already been cool enough, Makeville Studios is half a block from Four & Twenty Blackbirds, bakers of my favorite pie. Like last week, we'll be swinging by on our way to class for a slice.

Have a great weekend, all (any plans?). Shawn and I are celebrating our seven year wedding anniversary, and I have to fit a 20-mile run in there somewhere too.

Nashville: What I Ate

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 16:44:00 +0000

Even as a vegetarian, I ate well in Nashville. Most meals were quick and cheap. My friend Lauren, who grew up there, directed me to a local specialty, fruit tea. She also tipped me off to her beloved cranberry-pecan bread. Despite the fact that I don't normally drink my calories and see cranberries as a close cousin to the raisin, I tried both anyway and was so glad I did.

My one leisurely meal was definitely something to write home about. On Monday night, my coworker and I dined at the kitchen counter of City House, another Bon Appetit-approved spot. I was on the fence about making the trek to the Germantown neighborhood after a long day of conference proceedings, but it was well worth the cab ride.

Frico (basically, a crispy disc of melted, salty hard cheese studded with potatoes - yes, it was as delicious as it sounds).

A really flavorful salad of wilted radicchio, potato, and grana cheese.

I would have been happy ordering any number of options off the modern southern menu, but at the last moment I panicked and went with something dependable. The margherita pizza with homemade mozzarella didn't disappoint.

Peanut caramel pie with buttermilk sorbetto was just how I like my desserts - salty and sweet.

When I arrived in Nashville, I was initially dismayed by the dining options. ("Did you know Hard Rock Cafes still exist?," I texted my husband.) Thankfully, my reconnaissance paid off by pointing me toward the city's gems.

Nashville: What I Saw

noreply@blogger.com (Kate (Embarrassment of Riches)) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 01:22:00 +0000

Since I had never been to Nashville, I made sure to arrive early enough on Sunday to explore. I covered a lot of ground walking a triangular path between downtown, the Vanderbilt campus, and Hillsboro Village. Downtown Nashville reminded me of downtown Austin, while the college grounds were reminiscent of my alma mater, Indiana University.

Thoughts on Nashville: a highlight was happening upon the Shelby Street bridge, which offered a stunning perspective of the city. I'm ashamed I can't say I visited anything other than the lobby of the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. Plenty of times I made a mental note never to register for a race on the steep-sloped streets of this city. And if I were ten years younger, I would have wanted to spend all of my free time hopping from one honky-tonk bar to the next.

On Sunday night, I eschewed the sticky floors and plastic cups of Second Avenue North and Broadway, instead stopping into The Patterson House on Bon Appetit's recommendation. I was skeptical it could hold its own against my favorite classic cocktail spots in New York City. Oh ye of little faith. The drinks, the atmosphere, and the service were just as stellar as anything here.
And a bonus for those of you (kidding, just one of you - hey Jessica!) requesting more posts about style. Here's the entirety of what I packed for my trip with the exception of a blazer (not shown). Hopefully it's clear which outfits were for meetings and which were for sightseeing.