Running it in, thank-you-very-much

I hit a milestone last night, me and Mr. Treadmill.

A full 5K running at 11 minutes a mile. I'm not a pro, folks, and I know that's a pathetic time, but I finished it.

Swimming has always been my thing, but lately, I've been happier without my head full of chlorine. The treadmill and the Prospect Park loop have been where I've sweated out my afternoons this summer, trailing behind my guy who is training for his first full marathon.

I'm a run/walker - always have been. Running is fine, but I always savored the word "walk" in the President's Physical Fitness run/walk mile challenge in elementary and high school. It was a torturous endeavor to run a mile in a time allotted by a president (Bill Clinton or George W. Bush) who I knew had his share of sitting behind a desk and eating cheeseburgers.

In fifth grade, I remember distinctly that I couldn't finish the mile in less than 10 minutes. I was one of the last red-faced kids the gym teacher shamed with a "Run it in!" as we pumped our way across the finish line two or three minutes longer than expected.

But things have changed. It's not all woe-is-me. In high school, I was forced to run with my swim team for pre-season conditioning and tried to run and keep up with my athletic cousin during summers. I was slow then and often had to stop and walk. I was a beast in the pool, but, it seemed, I didn't have the lungs for land. And then I twisted my knee skiing and swore off running for more than a year.

Then I met Rich. A runner who has several triathlons under his belt and years of training, he suggested I start with the elliptical trainer and I did. Smooth and steady. And then he said I should try out the treadmill because it has shocks to absorb some of the pounding. And so I did - for about five minutes. I hated it. My knee - screwed up from my ill-advised Shackleton adventure at Seven Springs - literally crunched with every step. But I eventually worked through the pain and began extending my runs to 10 minutes and then 15 and then 20.

Now I'm up to running a 5K in 35 minutes. It may not seem like much to all you runner folk out there, but it's a big deal to someone who thought she would fall on the treadmill and get her hair stuck in the mechanisms if she tried such a feat.

The best part? I wasn't dead by the end of the run. My legs felt a little jelly-fied, but not insanely so. I think next time I'll push a little farther and go four or five miles. Who knows - maybe I'll do my own half marathon or marathon someday.  

And, just in case you're wondering, I have a feeling I can meet the President's Challenge these days.

Improvised maracas

Have you ever run with a bottle of pills stuffed down the back of your sports bra? I have.

 I know how that sounds like I've joined the cast of "Breaking Bad." I haven't.

It's New Yorker improvisation. You see it a lot here: A guy with a full-size ficus tree strapped to his back on the train. A lady with her plastic Target bags knotted at the top and slung over the shoulder like a hobo bag. A musician strumming a guitar, keeping time with cymbals latched to his knees.

I'm one of these improvisers. But it doesn't usually work so well for me. One time I was moving apartments probably the fifth time out of 8 when I needed to move a small cabinet with wheels. My back was already laden with bags, so I decided to push the cabinet ahead of me with one hand down the street. This worked for a block and half. Then the first wheel clunked off.

And then the second.

By the next block I was wheel-less and laughing my head off at my misfortune. It was right there on Fulton Mall, people walked past probably wondering why anyone would pile all of her worldly goods on her back and expect such a cheap set of Tupperware-esque drawers to stay wheeled.

But I have to say, I've gotten better at this stuff. I once carried three full-size kitchen chairs home from Columbus Circle. I sat on one in the subway and thought I looked very smart staring at the tourists like, "What? You forgot to bring your own seating? Amateurs!"

So I thought pills wouldn't be too tough to deal with. My pharmacy couldn't take my prescription card information over the phone, so I had to stop at the pharmacy, give them my card, and then, running short on time because of all of their checking that I was actually due the benefit that I had the card for, had to rush off to the park to run. My migraine pills were coming with me. With no bag, I was kind of in a tight spot, but I'd figure something out.

And I did. Down my back the bottle went. I felt a little illegal, but it was all legally prescribed, so I promptly forgot about it. I usually walk briskly to start my workout. I forgot about the prescription, and the fact that I probably looked like I had some kind of bulbous growth on my spine, and got into the zone of sweet workout pain.

I decided to start running by taking a hill.

I turned around, looking for the man with the maracas. No one was there.  Then I remembered. I improvise.

The pills shaking in their little bottle actually turned out to be a comforting tune that helped me keep tabs on my breathing. Shake, shake, shake. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Shake, shake, shake. Breathe. Breathe Breathe. I ended up running almost a full 5K complete with a momentous hill that any Prospect Park runner knows and dreads, pills shaking audibly the whole way. I imagine the people passing me (without headphones) thought I was a nutter transporting prescription drugs across the park. Or, if I'm being generous, I thought they thought I was trying out some new runner gadgetry that helped me manage my stride. 

To keep up the facade of the last idea, I looked intense and kept on sweating. Improvisation.

Baby pictures thwarted with new Chrome plug-in

I love your kids. I really do. I especially love that they're yours.

But really, who doesn't love a baby photo? I do. It's the perfect way to share in the cuteness of a child, but not actually clean up after one. I've followed the lives of some of my relatives' kids solely through Facebook.

But when I'm inundated with baby photos, as I sometimes do, it tends to get a little tiresome and...weird. I risk alienating myself from nearly every friend and family member with a child by saying this, but when it comes to babies - and especially newborns - I'm usually with George Carlin.

So I had to laugh when I heard about this plug-in for Chrome called Unbaby.me. It works like this: The extension replaces any and all baby pictures on Facebook with other content that you get to choose (i.e. cats, baby sloths or squirrels). After installing the program, users refresh their Facebook feed, and the babies are replaced by something else that you specify like "squirrels" or "baby sloths" or a Flickr feed.

In the spirit of research, I decided to try it out for a time on Chrome. This is the message you get when you're setting up the plug-in: "These are the words and phrases which power the extension. If your pal Debbie just had a kid, it might be wise to add her name here. That'll ensure maximum protection.

year old, so adorable, our family, just learned to walk, years old, month old, months old, so adorable, pajamas, eating solid foods, crawling, so cute, is precious, is too cute, look at those cheeks, cutest baby ever, newborn, and mommy, looks like dad, toesies, just like mom, looks like mom, mother and, father and, cute baby, can't wait to meet, gorgeous baby, infant, new addition to the family, first ballgame, day old, bundle of joy, birth, ultrasound, baby feet, lbs oz, toddler, carriage, cradle, gave birth, little one, baby boy, baby girl, 1st birthday, is growing up, diaper, diapers, tiny toes, all snuggly, binky, pacifier, bib, onesie, sockies, gerber, such an angel, what an angel, little angel, little princess, daycare, tantrum, won't stop crying, is finally napping, first steps, carseat,"

The creator of the code told the Huffington Post, "On Twitter, people were saying we just fixed the Internet."

I'm trying it out now with baby sloths. We'll see if I like it or just get annoyed with it. Or even lonesome for the human babies - which may happen.

Babies are interesting and also scary to talk about. It's so personal. And pictures of those babies mean so much to mothers and fathers. Pictures are a way parents show they care about their kids. Pictures document kids growing up for family members and friends who live far away.

But people are obviously annoyed. I think even moms and dads sometimes even get irritated by having to upload those pictures of every family outing-turned-photo shoot.

I know I get irritated by this pressure while on vacation. And, I have to admit, I wonder if people care so much to see me sprawled out like a whale on some beach that they didn't get to visit. Do they? Maybe we should all be more selective in what we post online. Or filter photos to the people we know will care - like Grandma in Boca Raton (baby pics) or a boyfriend who doesn't mind wobbly bits.

Respectful thoughts welcomed.