An official runner

After finishing the 10-k in 59 minutes, I officially became a runner. The 10-k (in Shelbourne Falls) was just a test run for my upcoming half marathon in Chicago in September. Knowing that part of the race would be on a steep hill, I kept telling Dave that I was very nervous because I have been training myself on really flat roads. He was very supportive by telling me that I would be fine. My goal was to finish the race in 70 minutes. So finishing it in 59 minutes is really a pleasant surprise. I almost started to think had I run up the hill rather than walking, I might have been able to finish the race in 57 minutes. Oh well, maybe next year.

經過一個月的訓練，我終於59分鐘內到達了終點，順利地完成了一万米賽跑，比預期時間早到11分鐘。

For pictures of this race, please visit （更多圖片）Bridge of Flower Race.

A Mini-vacation too!

I didn't even try to run in the 10K, since I spent most of the early part of the summer with Mono and wouldn't have had time to train, but a bonus was that it was a beautiful weekend in Western MA. Saturday morning almost had a west coast sort of feel to it. It started out with a very cool low-atmosphere fog (this is perfect for running, or so I'm told, anyway) trapped between the Berkshire mountain tops, which rather quickly burned off revealing a deep blue sky. Shelburne Falls is a quaint little New England town, that is unusual in that its quaintness doesn't seem to be contrived. The picture above is of the "bridge of flowers", a 400 foot walking bridge across the Deerfield river that is adorned with dozens of different types of flowers and several full sized trees. In a lot of places you would probably rather not even know the story behind something like this (maybe some 80's-junk-bond trader-turned-small-town-real-estate-agent did it to raise the local property values?) In Shelburne, it was started by the local Women's Club, who began planting flowers on the bridge in 1929 (the year after the trolley stopped running over it). Another (even cooler, in my opinion) feature of the town is the glacial potholes in the river-bed that can't really even be described. They make perfect swimming holes, and though the friendly area lawyers forced the town to officially shut them down for that purpose about 5 years ago, the rules don't seem to be enforced too strictly. The people here are very friendly, but they like the town's low-profile. Jess and I were chatting with a lady, and I mentioned that hardly anyone in Boston knows about this place. She said "We know... now please don't go back and tell them!"

We also spent Saturday afternoon in Northampton (the home of Smith College), which, though not nearly as sleepy, is a pretty cool town as well.

The smaller, the cuter

Regarding whether size determines cuteness, my theory is the smaller, the cuter. This theory is particularly true when it comes to animals, such as dogs. The other day after finishing running, I saw the orange cat (Dave's neighbour's cat who likes to kill small animals and leave their bodies on the ground) chasing a chipmunk. Without thinking, I threw a plastic bottle at the cat. He was scared and moved back a few steps and the chipmunk ran away into the woods. The orange cat is cute but the chipmunk is cuter because it is much smaller.