And now, the waiting begins

I went on my last run before the Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon today — a slow 3.25ish-mile endeavor. Nothing notable to report from it.

Tomorrow I'll ride to work, as usual, but otherwise rest up, and on Saturday, I'll be volunteering at the Run for the Trees 5K/1-mile fun run before probably just bumming around the apartment.

I really wanted to do the tree race, but it just seemed like a risky move, even when I don't have much half marathon pressure ... given that I'll likely be on my feet when I'm there, maybe it's ultimately a wash and I could have run ... but then again, standing is lower-impact.

Anyway, I've, unsurprisingly, been thinking about my weekend meals, for both before and after the race.

Saturday night dinner is looking like chicken pasta, maybe some garlic bread, and a beer (it's tradition!); Sunday breakfast could be scrambled eggs/toast or possibly blueberry pancakes.

After the race will probably be "wherever serves us fastest and cares least about how we smell" (in 2013, that was the Drake Jethro's breakfast buffet).

And now that I've wrapped up the workouts, I can lay out my race-day gear. I'm going with the standby outfit — pink T-shirt, black shorts, pink sweatband and sunglasses — and my newer Balega socks.

So that's probably it from me until next week, but I imagine I'll be posting my time on Twitter and Daily Mile, at the very least. Maybe there'll even be a sweaty selfie on Instagram afterwards, too.

Entering the taper

Sunday's 10-miler was the last significant run before the April 26 half marathon. Woo-hoo!

This route was even more race-day-specific than its predecessors; it included a loop around the Capitol as well as the hills up from Gray's Lake, from downtown to the base of Bulldog Hill and of course Bulldog Hill itself.

It was another solid, strong effort. We had some obstacles in a strong southerly wind and an early side stitch for me, but we stuck it out.

Oddly enough, I kept a better pace and attitude going up Bulldog Hill than I did at the end of my nine-miler — I don't get it, but I'll take it.

So what now?

I'd already started to scale back workouts that weren't the long run, just to save my feet a little bit, but I'll continue that.

I'll still have a longer run this coming Sunday (thinking about five miles), and I'll continue with the speedwork (just at a shorter distance).

Originally I'd thought of incorporating more yoga to keep active, but if the weather continues to grow nicer, bike rides might be more tempting.

And I'll just enjoy the dramatic spike in free time. People always talk about the taper crazies, and maybe my own memory is fading and I've ranted about them in the past, but right now I'm just glad to scale back a bit.

I am profoundly grateful for having found the right post-long-run routine to prevent stiffness ... but it definitely takes up time beyond what the run already sucked up.

Throw in eating and a shower (and, OK, the procrastination before the run!), and it often feels like the day is totally gone.

But not this Sunday!

Retirement

I recently completed all of RAGBRAI — no skipping the extra miles on the Karras Loop, no riding the sag wagon, no agreeing to drive someone's vehicle for just one day.

That's 483 miles on a bike. Some of that time passed in conversation (and whining); some of it, in detailed observation of my surroundings; the rest of it, in thinking.

None of my thoughts were particularly deep, but I did come to one conclusion that I've stuck with since getting off the saddle:

It's time for me to retire from blogging.

Nothing in particular prompted the feeling, but once the thought entered my mind, it stayed there.

This seems like good practice in trusting my gut, and if my gut has steered me wrong, well, I'll trumpet my relaunch to round all of you back up.

Anyways, the past five-ish years of blogging have been a good run/good ride, puns not intended but also not deleted. 

I appreciate everyone who's followed me from Illinois to Iowa, and those who have joined somewhere along the way.

I'll still hopefully be providing snapshots of my meals, workouts and cats on Twitter, Instagram and Daily Mile. Let's keep in touch virtually!

The urge to run is stirring

A strange thought flitted across my mind the other day, as I thought about the upcoming week's workout regiment.

It was: "Hm, maybe I'll run Wednesday. Or run-walk. But definitely not bike, and definitely more than just walk."

Three weeks into my month of not running, it seems that I haven't quite lost the bug yet, in spite of all my head-shaking as I see runners braving the heat and humidity. What good news!

Did I run? Nope. But that's OK — I fear the loss of interest more than the loss of fitness. (I may retract this statement next month.)

Granted, several factors that weren't the sheer love of running kindled this desire: Smashburger, a Drake Diner milkshake, a Bauder Pharmacy hot fudge sundae, a weekend devoid of any exercise, and an unwillingness to devote an hour-plus to exercise when I had a long to-do list, to name just a few.

That's also OK. I don't care why I want to run, I just care that I do want to run.

Race report: Dam to Dam Half Marathon

All you need to know about my Dam to Dam experience is that I'm not truly angry about the fact that my official results have yet to materialize.

(I think this is operator error, because my sweat-soaked shirt came off in the last half-mile, and with it went my race-chip-bearing bib. I've got an email query out.)

If it had been a quarter-marathon, I'd be singing a different tune — through mile seven, I'd channeled my negative emotions into strong running — but around mile eight, I melted down physically and mentally.

Because I finished slightly before Cory, I know that I ran faster than 2:08:10, which means I did manage to notch my second-best half marathon time ever, in possibly the most humid conditions I've ever raced in and potentially the warmest weather on record for Dam to Dam.

A few moments of levity I still managed to appreciate:

* A shirtless male runner hanging his bib from his nipple rings. If only I'd had a camera or a smartphone.

* A Christmas tree-costumed person at mile two. No reason for the costume was apparent.

* A Disney singalong around mile nine, begun by a couple of bros who were mangling the lyrics to "I Just Can't Wait To Be King." I couldn't let that continue, so I filled in most of the words for them.

In their defense, they stepped up when it came to "I've been working on my ROAR!"

* A kid offering beer to runners around mile 10. Better yet, I saw a man actually take the can.

* "Never trust a fart" posters. If there's bathroom humor on a sign, I'm almost guaranteed to smile, or at least grimace, at it.

* A T-shirt (or were there several?) that said: "Run? I thought you said RUM."

The only circumstance under which I'd consider doing a Memorial Day half marathon in the Midwest again would be if a newer/less trained runner sought support — but I'd consider the Dam to Dam 5K, only because of the afterparty.

Hands down, it had the best refreshments after a race in my entire running career. I got a grocery bakery cookie as I left the finish line area; found ice cream; finished that en route to Fighting Burrito nachos; and moved right over to Smokehouse Catering's sandwiches.

Not the way I'd hoped to close the book on spring running, but it's confirmation that I'm right to call it quits on spring half marathons and take a mental breather.

The ultimate carbo-loading experience

You might've noticed that my posts for the past week and a half didn't actually mention any runs I'd gone on.

That's because I haven't run in more than two weeks, during which time I was busy prepping for, going on and recovering from a week-plus visit to Italy with my sister!

At the Forum — one of my favorite spots — in Rome. We'd already done the Colosseum, which you can see in the background.

Our trip was every bit as fantastic as one would expect, full of beautiful architecture, delicious food and drink, sunshine (take that, polar vortex!), amazingly ancient history all around us ... and runners.

I don't know why the sight of runners surprised me. I'd seen running tours for Venice advertised, and I've read about marathons in Rome.

Maybe it was the contrast with la dolce vita that caught me off guard — and before anyone suggests that Italians might need to burn off all that gelato and pasta, let me be the millionth person to point out that they do a lot more travel by foot and by bike than most Americans do.

Authentic margherita pizza in Naples. This restaurant — L'Antica Pizzeria da Michele — was the one featured in "Eat, Pray, Love" and was every bit as delicious as depicted.

Or maybe it was just their odd gear that made me do double-takes. I swear at least half of them were running in biking shorts, and more than a few were in what appeared to be everyday shirts.

They're a very well-dressed nation, no doubt, but why ruin those stylish tops with sweat? At least the odd outfits I saw in West Des Moines were athletic-gear-based.

Unlike when I went to London, I didn't feel the slightest twinge of envy watching Italian runners, though.

I was getting enough exercise not just walking, but also climbing monuments and ruins on sometimes-uneven pavement, and I think my mind needed a break from my 5K dud and from training during the polar vortex.

But I was happy to see runners. I'm so used to feeling like my leisure activity is scorned (even I call it a stupid hobby) that if a nation known for appreciating the finer things is engaging in it frequently, that's a huge selling point for our community.

* * *

Did you miss posts because I wasn't plugging them on Twitter and Facebook? Here's what went up in my absence.

April 5: Reflections on 5K training plans

April 7: Upcoming race: Grand Blue Mile

April 9: Running crafts are complete

April 11: Upcoming race: Woofin' It 5K

April 13: Second installment of 2014's quarterly goals

Scoping out the competition

It's been quite some time since Cory and I ran together — months, possibly — so I was very interested to see how well he was moving at last Sunday's run date.

After all, we've been trash-talking about who's going to win this weekend's 5K since probably the last time we ran a competitive race together.

The good news is, I now know another way to sabotage his race experience, in addition to having him run an extremely fast mile at a race the day before, then filling him up with beer: Push a huge, rich breakfast on him.

The bad news: Huge, rich breakfasts also don't do me any favors, and he got to see that Sunday. So it'll be hard to trick him into having one while I stick with something safer.

Based on our four-miler, I think it'll be a fair matchup. Though my training hasn't gone like I'd hoped, I've seen how friendly competition and pleasant weather can pull me out of a slump.

I don't have to break my personal record, set during half-marathon training in perfect conditions — I just have to keep ahead of Cory.

(Also, not that I'm superstitious, but I *did* just lay out my luckiest gear for race day.)

Cory, meanwhile, has the edge on natural athletic ability and, given that he commutes from downtown Des Moines to Johnston every day on a bike, overall fitness.

The first 1.5 miles of that run were hilly and he hadn't found his stride, but he never held me back, nor did he make us stop to walk.

Last year's race was on roads, not a trail like the Remembrance Run, so assuming that hasn't changed, spotting each other should be easier.

I'm not sure whether that will benefit or bother me; not knowing how close Cory was kept me pushing hard last fall, but if his neon-yellow sneakers taunt me from well into the distance, I might get discouraged and back off instead of waiting for any signs of weakness.

Check back Monday to see who triumphed! "Only" pride is on the line.

5K training starts this week!

My 5K training plan starts this week, and I'm pretty excited about it because:

1. I love the discipline of a training schedule that has an external culmination (the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K). I *could* train and not race, but then I'm less likely to stick to the training schedule.

2. The temperatures this week look chilly. Not dangerously cold, but lazy cold — as in, someone without a gym membership or a treadmill would be inclined to do something else.

3. This weekend, I went to Bacon Fest, then a Super Bowl party that featured an entire dessert table and a nacho bar. (I do have to say: Bacon Fest's lingering guilt and grease overdose held me back a bit at the Super Bowl buffet.)

4. Sadly, last year's Friendly Sons partner Regina will not be able to join me, but Cory and I will be having a 5K rematch. Even if I lose, I could still claim a small personal victory if I go sub-24:00, or even sub-24:09, because there are plenty of 5Ks in the fall.

5. Another friend, Annah, has expressed interest in doing a St. Patrick's 5K, and while of course bar options abound — and she should do them, if she is so inclined! — she's been building up her endurance from ground zero, so I have high hopes that I will have positively peer-pressured another person.

Truth be told, I'm also a little ambivalent about training season's start because:

1. I haven't been pushing myself, except to not walk all of every hill. That extends to my lack of strength training since fall (seriously). I've been counting a foam-rolling session as a big victory.

2. The temperatures this week look chilly. Making crafts out of race souvenirs, reading running blogs and writing my own running blog sound more appealing.

But don't worry, this isn't going to become a whiny post. I know that once I get into the swing of training, I'll get used to all the drawbacks, and that taking the first step is the toughest.

Hibernation arrived at a good time

It's tough to maintain a running blog when one is not actually running, but rather than use this platform to yammer on about my personal life, I'm going to use my personal life as a backdrop to why now is a good time for me not to run:

* The historic cold blast arrived barely a week after the Holiday Running Streak ended. The six-day difference between the 2012 and 2013 streaks saved my buns ... or my whole body ... or my streak's existence ... or whatever it would've cost to hop along to a friend's gym on a guest pass ... or the people in the skywalk from seeing a weirdo run a mile through the skywalk.

* Post-holiday parties — friends who felt bad they didn't spend enough time at my place over New Year's made a return visit.

Because I made them wait an extra 30 minutes to see me to finish off the streak on New Year's Day, I luxuriated in NOT making them accommodate a hobby they respect my interest in but would really rather never participate in.

* Our household grew! A 9-year-old tabby named Ringo has moved in, and it's taking him a few days to adjust.

An excuse to post cat pictures? Guilty as charged, and unashamed.

* I was mentally and physically tired of running, while my muscles had just about had it with my limited stretching/nonexistent foam rolling.

Though I have to be honest and point out two reasons hibernation came at a bad time:

* The latest issue of Runner's World arrived recently, so not only do I feel guilty about not running, but I also feel guilty that I haven't used my spare time to even read about running.

* Holiday leftovers.

The ups and downs of the Holiday Running Streak

As it turns out, when I claimed the first run of the Holiday Running Streak was the toughest one, I was wrong. Or at least just not clairvoyant.

I actually almost broke my streak Friday. Almost.

The ice storm that day knocked out my power, and that in turn nearly knocked out my ambition to head outside and run a mile. (Holiday festivities meant I would not be able to do so after work, so it was now or never.)

Thankfully, the electricity was restored about an hour and a half before I had to be at work, and so was my desire to keep the streak alive. For as long as it took to reach the sidewalks, that is.

The first few steps were fine. The next few, and almost all the ones after that, were not. I eventually resorted to running back and forth on the snow-crusted grass — at least there was traction there.

Not my favorite run ever, but I got it done.

On the opposite end of the fun spectrum was last Monday's run ... or, rather, runs.

It was bitter cold when Regina and I met at Water Works Park, but because of "my stupid streak" (as she confided she thought), we still got three miles in. During the run, I received a call from a number I didn't recognize, so I didn't answer.

Once my phone came back from the dead, I discovered what the call was: The Cheese Shop telling me that two spots were open at that night's holiday beer class. My Christmas present for Cory had arrived!

It meant delaying his run further, from after work to after a plate of cheese and a dozen beer samples, but I think we both agreed it was worth it. Because I'm a good sport — and easily made to feel guilty — I agreed to run that single mile with him.

So off we went around 8:30 or 9 p.m. with recently filled bellies. The switch out of jeans and into (elastic-waisted) running pants felt good, and so did the laughter over how ill-advised this decision probably was. I even got a side stitch from giggling, which didn't feel physically nice, but I didn't mind.

More importantly, no one threw up, and most importantly, no one broke their streak.

My new neighborhood is a little weird, and I like it

I've recently gone back to my dumbphone days and started running "naked" again — the cold weather kills my battery so fast that it's unnecessary dead weight in my pocket.

It's not like I'm training for anything, so I don't need to know my pace or splits; I'm also not doing solo night runs or venturing so far out into the wilderness that I fear for my safety when phone-free.

The most important purpose the iPhone has been serving, therefore, has been to take photos of the quirky things I find on my new routes. Such as:

A "little free library" outside someone's home. 

I've never seen an informal library outside of a coffee shop or a hotel, but I'm glad to find this — mostly because bookworms like to know they're not alone, but partly because then I have a backup plan if I run out of reading material while the library system is closed.

Traveling shrimp salesmen?

My parents live in the country, so I'm used to seeing roadside stands with produce. I've spent my entire life in the Midwest, so I'm *not* used to seafood tents. And no, I didn't buy any.

I think this was at the Jimmy John's on Grand.

I really hope someone has parked here illegally, and the business owner followed through with the graffiti's threat instead of calling a tow truck.

Holiday Running Streak kickoff: First step is the hardest

There was no reason for my Holiday Running Streak not to start strong.

I had the day off work; my family had visited me the previous weekend to help with moving; and the potluck I was attending didn't start until 2 p.m.

So naturally, it was after 10 p.m. before I got around to running. Fellow streakers Joel and Cory had long ago logged their runs and made sure I knew it, so the pressure was on.

But run I did — a single mile, but that's all you have to do to make it count. Funny how much better I felt after that, physically and mentally.

Here's a rundown of my streak so far.

Thursday: 1 mile. Hills are not fun on bellies that, until you moved, were comfortably full of food and wine. 

Hills are fun, however, for minds that remember how many desserts you ate (four small ones), approximately how much wine you drank (and still didn't catch a buzz, given the food baby you conceived) and how excited you were to finally explore your new neighborhood.

Friday: 3.75 miles. I tested out what I thought was the best route to pick up the Des Moines trail system. I glided through quiet, winding neighborhoods down to a gravel trail through Water Works Park, then huffed and puffed back up the downhills that were so relaxing earlier.

Des Moines continues to surprise me by how suddenly it turns rural. And how hilly it is.

Unrelated: This sign made me laugh.

Saturday: 3.25 miles. What those hills give, they also take. I'd noticed a steep uphill and sketched a path around it, reasoning that a hill at the end was good enough justification. 

But because I barely know the roads around my new place, I ended up picking a roller-coaster ride. With the relatively mild weather and the novelty of unfamiliar roads, though, I didn't mind at all.

Sunday: 2.66 miles. Sunday was a classic example of why Runner's World organized this run streak. Regina and I delayed our run so that we could do this:

That is a beer-and-cookie flight: a breakfast stout with the brownie, a vanilla oatmeal stout with the vanilla chocolate chip cookie, a citrusy IPA with the lemon bar, and a chocolate porter with the chocolate chocolate chip cookie.

I had no regrets (OK, I wish only one of us had gotten the brownie pairing so we could've split that), but I did need a few hours for the stomach to settle. And to be honest, during the run, I realized it wasn't at 100 percent.

However — I went, and given how lovely it was earlier in the day (yeah, when I was drinking beer and eating baked goods), I dared to bare the legs. Shorts in December!

What I'll miss about running in West Des Moines

I mentioned in an offhand way a few posts ago that I would be moving soon.

Soon came sooner than I thought: By Thanksgiving, I'll be out of my West Des Moines apartment and living in Des Moines proper.

There are, of course, many aspects of the new apartment that I'm excited about (otherwise I would've just renewed here), but, duh, one of them is fresh running scenery.

At the same time, I'll miss certain things about my current place, some of them related to running routes. I've been planning a few runs (not all of them) with the intention of hitting some spots I likely won't return to very soon.

The top five features of West Des Moines running that I'll miss:

5. Proximity to Raccoon River Park: I didn't even go there to run very often, but its gravel trail and heavy tree cover reminded me of a beloved trail back in my hometown (which in fact I want my ashes scattered along, some day far in the future).

It's where I set two 5K personal records at the past two Remembrance Runs, and it's also where I first went running with fellow "Scoop Chasers" Regina, Zach and Emily — setting the tone for a year of meeting up to run or bike.

4. Nearby restaurants: I frequently run past Biaggi's, Culver's, Taco John's, Arby's and a few other fast-food joints, and they all put out heavenly smells. Sometimes it's a cruel taunt, but mostly I just enjoy another reason to think about food.

3. The Ashworth Road overpass over Interstate 35: I just really like this overpass. I'm not sure whether it's because of the vines growing over the chain-link covering, or whether it's because I often cross it after coming up a long incline.

2. The variety of trails in all directions: I'm within a mile of the Jordan Creek Trail, within about 1.5 miles of the Clive Greenbelt Trail and at most seven miles from the Raccoon River Valley Trail. That doesn't even include the minitrails around the city.

Best of all — they're not all in the same direction, so I could pick based on where the wind was coming from. Or where I wanted to deal with hills.

1. Its wide, smooth, continuous sidewalks: In the part of the city where I live, West Des Moines' sidewalks are twice as wide as my new neighborhood's are; almost every street has nonstop sidewalk; and nearly every one is either smooth or along a road so quiet that I can just hop into the street.

Coming next week, to ward off any nostalgia as move-out approaches: what I'm ready to say goodbye to.

Full race report: Des Moines Half Marathon

The theme of my Des Moines Half experience (2:00:20, to boast once more) was doing everything right.

When I told people my goals, their responses were either "Oh, you can totally do that" or "I think you'll do even better than that."

But previous races have shown me that executing my part of the plan isn't a given — nor is the continuation of the weather conditions that I've trained in.

That wasn't so Sunday. While it was cooler than the majority of my training, it was just about identical to the taper runs I'd done over the past week.

First good move: fighting off the paranoia about being too cold and trusting (correctly) that I'd warm up enough to appreciate a T-shirt and shorts.

I must've tapered properly, because the only body part that demanded "why are we running?" was my brain. My legs felt fresh and fluid, and I definitely did not get the sense early on that it wasn't going to be my day.

I feared starting off too fast and burning myself out. So once we got started — and wow was this a big race; I think it took about three minutes to cross the starting line — I kept an eagle eye on my phone until I settled into a comfortable pace.

Mission accomplished. MapMyRun says the first mile was my slowest, and it also says I stayed within a 40-second range.

Throughout the race, I mostly trusted my body. I've never taken so few water breaks during a half marathon, but I just wasn't thirsty, and I also really didn't want to stop and break my stride. I did have water around the halfway point, because I'd taken my gel, but that was it.

I've also never taken so few walk breaks. Again, I was in the zone and didn't want to leave it. There were times when I wanted to, but my practice telling myself "you got this" paid off.

The bargaining method ("you can walk at mile 10") worked even better than during training — as other runners have observed, once I reached whatever marker, I actually felt fine and just kept going.

On the converse side, I felt queasy twice. The first time was after the only hill in the half marathon, and after I passed some AWESOME friends who showed up to cheer me on with a sign; the second time was within sight of the finish line.

I let myself walk both times — embarrassing during the second time — and the nausea subsided.

Finally, to wrap this up, my post-race activities were mostly spot-on. I got the massage as soon as possible; I didn't go completely sedentary, but I didn't stay on my feet the entire time; I hit up a hot tub later in the day; and I went to bed at 9:30 p.m.

In conclusion? ALL GOALS ACCOMPLISHED.

Strange sights on Sunday runs

I went for a long stretch without seeing very many weird things out on runs.

The two Sundays leading up to today's race have broken that streak.

First, I saw what seemed to be a strangely high amount of clothing: Downtown, just off the Neal Smith Trail and near an apartment complex, there was a pair of tightie whities crumpled up on the sidewalk.

It reminded me of a pair I watched for months back off a country road in Rockton. I assume — without investigating — that people are discarding dirty pairs, but can't they just wait and put them in a garbage can?

Less gross but more oddly placed were the socks along the Jordan Creek Trail's 50th Street underpass. Without an apartment complex or laundromat nearby, there's not much explanation beyond a very unhygienic one: If there's no toilet paper to be found, I'm told, one's best bet is to use a sock.

But not everything I saw was bathroom-humor-related: I had a pleasant wildlife encounter not far from my complex.

I'm used to running up toward geese, which frankly scares me a little bit (do they attack?), so it was a pleasant change to see smaller birds hanging out on the sidewalk this past Sunday.

Most of them scattered as I approached, except for one bold one. As it turned out, s/he was lingering to pick up a half-eaten piece of pizza.

I suppose I could also demand who throws out a perfectly good piece of pizza, like I did with the laundry-litterers, but I was too amused by the bird's salvaging of it.

It was like something out of a cartoon, come to life. If only a dopey person had been holding the piece, gearing up to take a big bite ...

(Yes, I know birds eat people food, the prime example being bread crusts.)

Taking "long-term goals" to another level

Among people who've known me for more than five years, the thing that surprises them most about my running is that I do it.

Among those who've met me more recently, that changes to the fact that I don't like bananas.

Yes, I know that they're full of potassium and help ward off cramps. Yes, banana bread is delicious. I still don't want to eat them; you can have my share.

I know I'm not alone, but it sure seems like it. Which is OK, because it helped me set the longest-term running goal that I have.

But first, some back story: Long-lived ancestors crop up on all branches of my family tree. Even among the older generations — the ones who probably were malnourished on occasion and never had the advantages of modern medicine — seeing death ages in the late 80s and 90s isn't uncommon.

So it's occurred to me that I've got a great genetic background for living to age 100, and I like to think I live a fairly healthy lifestyle. (I do have a desk job and an appreciation of alcohol, but most supercentenarians have at least one "vice" ... )

I was probably running when it dawned on me to combine these two fun facts about myself. What if I were to become the oldest runner who didn't ever eat bananas?

This is not a serious goal. Well, I'd like to run as long as my body allows, and I'd like to live as long as it still brings me pleasure, but I don't think I could prove that I was the oldest anti-banana runner — or that Guinness World Records would care.

But I'll hang on to it for my own gratification. There has to be some upshot to disliking such a common food.

Why I (have to) run

When I first mentally committed to a fall half marathon, I was just excited about the better chances of cool race-day weather.

Then I did the math and saw how fast after RAGBRAI I'd need to start training. I wasn't daunted, but I wasn't exactly thrilled, either.

However, when August started happening, I realized what a boon the IMT's timing was.

First came trips to the Iowa State Fair:

Maple-bacon funnel cake and a fellow Truman grad. Not pictured: two other college friends; the orders of deep-fried Oreos and doughnuts that we split amongst us; the Bauder's peppermint ice cream bar that I snarfed by myself; or the two trips to Zombie Burger that I made with said friends.  

Bacon-wrapped riblet — the runner-up for best fair food, behind the ice cream bar — and beer. The fair square was already in my belly at that point.

My pants had hardly a reprieve, as Restaurant Week hit. I tried Hoq, Gramercy Tap, Baru 66, Trostel's Greenbriar and Proof, with a repeat visit to Cosi Cucina.

Some of my favorite eats from those visits:

Mussels and pork belly, in a delicious buttery broth packed with hunks of bread, at Proof. Like bacon but better. I wish I'd slurped up the broth.

Lemon semifreddo at Proof. So light I could've eaten 50 times this much.

Chicken and polenta, with a much fancier name and much more complex taste, at Baru 66. 

Floating island at Baru 66. Please come back to me.

Bacon-wrapped scallop at Greenbriar. I came for the lamb, which was excellent, but if there had been several more scallops for my entree, I would've been over the moon.

Not pictured but also absurdly good: the potato ravioli and cheesecake (voted Des Moines' best!) at Cosi Cucina.

And after that wound down, my sister paid me and the cat a birthday visit. The culinary/caloric high points of our long weekend were dinner at The Cheese Shop (splitting the tomato pesto mac 'n' cheese AND the ham and cheese royal toastie? yes please!) and a visit to Creme Cupcake dessert lounge.

Blueberry semifreddo. Can't feel guilty about dessert when it's this compact and light, right?

What a great way to keep my motivation up for running, especially as summer smacked us in the face. I had no grounds for skipping any workouts.

In a way, though I almost welcomed that heat and humidity. A girl can pretend it's sugar and not sweat that's coming out of her pores, right?

I am almost ashamed to write this post

I did not spend Labor Day sleeping in and lounging around. 

I spent it running 4.25 miles at a 9:10 pace, did some cleaning around the apartment, then joined a group of friends for what turned out to be an almost 45-mile bike ride.

Normally I would be proud to write this. But it's not the frequent stops that are tamping down my pride, nor is it just the next-day fatigue that also delayed my actually blogging about it.

It's that two of my bike companions had done the Hy-Vee Triathlon the day before. Individually, not as part of a relay team. Seriously. 

So no bragging from me — the toughest thing I did the day before my multisport effort was play "Just Dance" with a stomach full of Jethro's and wine.

This is just about all I'll applaud myself for: When I received the text, midrun, suggesting we go biking, my first instinct wasn't to decline because I was running. 

Oh, and at no point during the ride did I complain of fatigue. (Maybe it was because I didn't get too tired, just hungry during the same day and incredibly sore and sleepy the next day.)

Self-deprecation aside, I'd spent the long weekend mostly indulging myself and definitely not working out (again, unless you count "Just Dance"), so I was glad of the chance to sweat it out. 

The weather was just absolutely perfect in Des Moines — I walked outside at 9:15 a.m. in shorts and a T-shirt and was chilly! — and evidently my short layoff from running/long layoff from biking hadn't totally erased all my fitness. 

Fourth-best thing about RAGBRAI

I recently realized it's been almost a month since RAGBRAI ... making my failure to blog about the event all the more shameful. All those posts about preparation, and I couldn't be bothered to share a few safe-for-work details?

Finally I sorted my memories into a few easy-to-digest chunks — it's Restaurant Week; food is on my brain 24/7 right now — and decided against trying to pass the delay off as being timed to coincide with the one-month anniversary.

So here's the first installment of my four favorite "themes" of RAGBRAI: food.

Yes, RAGBRAI has a well-deserved reputation for being full of delicious food. You shouldn't read any disappointment into my putting it at the bottom of my list of favorite things — it's just that there was so much nonedible fun that food got bumped down.

We began Wednesday at the Iowa State Fairgrounds, where I had my second breakfast of a Dutch letter ... on a stick, of course.

Coors Light was not a culinary highlight by any means, but this photo is symbolic of the mass quantities of beer I drank. Actually, before this bar stop, the group had split a bottle of local wine ... but I was too busy being thrilled about drinking local wine midday in the sunshine to take a photo. 

These pork chops were out of this world. When one friend offered to split a pork chop as a snack only a few hours after lunch, I jumped right on that. 

"Dunked corn" in Oskaloosa — like cornbread on steroids. YUM. Definitely a once-a-year treat.

My second breakfast on Saturday came at an all-you-can-eat pancake shack in Birmingham. The best part of this was watching one woman manning the griddle that held at least two dozen pancakes. She also would fling the pancake onto your plate from across the shed, if you asked. (I did not.) 

We lingered in Keosauqua on Saturday, to the tune of a couple of hours. Since the First Street Grille landed on the state's top 10 burger list, we decided to sample. At left is the breakfast burger; at right is the Reuben.

A few highlights that weren't pictured:

* Massive amounts of barbecue. I ate more of that than I did pastries.

* The glass of lemonade I had after 10ish miles of hills in the early-afternoon sun. It was the single-most refreshing beverage I had during the entire trip.

* The stop in Bussey, where I split a wood-fire-oven pizza for a midafternoon snack (yep), followed a few miles later by the most massive amount of homemade ice cream I'd ever had (thanks, Beekman's!). My two favorite foods within half an hour? Best vacation ever.

You know nothing, Little Runner!

Last Wednesday, I congratulated myself for what seemed to be a RAGBRAI trial run: a ride with a lunch stop in the middle and a little bit of heat/wind at the end. I've totally got this.

Um, not quite. The 65-miler lacked humidity, 90-degree weather, more than a few hills, more than a few stops, fried food, frozen treats and beer.

But don't worry. I got all of that in Sunday, and I can handle it. Mostly.

I rode with several of my RAGBRAI companions from the Principal Riverwalk up to Big Creek and back that day, which was everything I've come to expect from July in Iowa. Throw in the hills on the Neal Smith Trail, plus some residual fatigue from the previous day's run, and I was a little uncertain about how well a 50-plus-miler would go.

The first prolonged one came at Latitude 41, and the idea of lunch had me positively giddy. I ordered a Summer Shandy and a catfish strip basket and tucked right into both.

It was so delicious ... and so greasy. Did we really have to get back up and keep riding north and then turn back around? We couldn't just nap? No? UGH.

The next seven or so miles were not the easiest miles I've ever done. My first all-fried-food meal in months sloshed around, and the beer's carbonation didn't bring me any relief until well into our next stop (at Big Creek).

Almost as good as the relief from the grease? The 25-cent Fla-Vor-Ice I got at the air-conditioned concession stand. So much welcome coolness.

When we trusted that the rain on the radar had passed, we hopped back on and flew. The hills were mostly down; the wind, mostly at our backs. I felt strong, cheerful and grateful for second-half momentum — and then we stopped again. Latitude 41 was still there and still open.

At the time, I would've rather kept going. But that's not what we're going to be doing in a few weeks. In a few weeks, we'll be riding only long enough to build up a thirst and a hunger. So it was good that we stopped for another beer and another few glasses of ice-cold water.

And really, come to think of it, our stop-and-go riding was done during the sunniest part of the day. After that beer, we stopped only for a bathroom break on the 16 miles back to the starting apartment, under a sky only just bright enough for my sunglasses to still help, not hinder.

So how did I feel upon our return? Surprisingly, just sweaty and of average fatigue/hunger. Not dehydrated, sunburned or queasy. And most of all, content with how my stomach handled a true RAGBRAI simulation.

Still to be determined: how my legs and seat will handle RAGBRAI.