On What I've Been Doing Lately...

...because I know you're all dying to know.

I've been busy, guys. That's right, I've been busy.

I didn't do much running last week because the humidity reared its ugly head for (literally) a hot second, and I was not prepared to deal with it. I am not a damn toucan.

I did run 10 miles on Saturday though, and that went really well. I managed to wake up early by setting my alarm to Beyonce's "Love On Top" and changing the alarm's message to, "Beyonce would wake up early," and so I woke up early. And I ran before it got too hot, and it really didn't get too hot because guess what guys? Fall is here. Fall. is. here. and I'm stoked. STOKED.

So I ran 10 miles and felt like a superstar because I did pretty well and didn't have to walk at the same parts of this route where I had to walk the previous week. Then I got home and cleaned myself up and settled in to watch more Breaking Bad than one should in one sitting. But then my friend offered me a free ticket to the Mets double header and I decided to join because, why not be social and catch up with a friend I haven't seen since we both went to see the Katy Perry movie in 3D last year? Super fan right here. Don't judge me, the movie was awesome and I also own it on DVD.

The outing was a lot of fun. I saw her dad and uncle run around the nearly empty sections of Citi Field trying to score free T-shirts and fly balls. I managed to "catch" a free T-shirt by trying to catch it, letting it fall in front of me and then snatching it from the ground before anyone could think of beating me to it. It's an XL and it almost reaches my knees when I wear it, so I wear it to bed like I'm a kid again.

I sat in the seats at Citi Field for about six hours with a few stretching and walking breaks, but having my legs bent for that long after such an intense run earlier in the day made them stiffen up. Which was fun when I had to climb the stairs up to the train to go home. Except that it wasn't.

Sunday was spent at a bar with new friends, watching football, drinking beer, eating food and throwing popcorn. We ended the night by eating ramen and I was pretty happy about that. I won't turn down non-microwaved, legit ramen.

Then the weather decided to be even better starting yesterday and I've had two incredible runs in a row. Whaaaaaat??? Tonight I decided to see how fast I can run 5 miles, because why not? I can run 5 miles in 41:13. That's not bad considering Central Park is hillier than Buffalo, and the Turkey Trot is in Buffalo and I would like to run that as close to a sub-40 time as possible. Last time I did that I was 20 lbs. lighter than I am now. And I looked weird.

I haven't been doing much cooking lately because I never have time to grocery shop. I'm dying to make a huge pot of soup to bring in for lunch everyday. I could go for something hearty, like butternut squash soup with apples in it. Or this awesome escarole and sausage thing my mom makes. Or pretty much anything my mom makes.

Guys, I was thinking about Thanksgiving the other day and thinking about the awesome meal my mom makes...and my mouth started watering. It just did again.

That's all that I've been up to. I'm really not that busy. I just haven't written in here because I didn't have anything exciting to write. But this update was super exciting, yeah?

On My Mood Today...

It's actually impossible for me to wake up on the wrong side of the bed, because one side of my bed is against the wall. But that didn't stop me from being moody today. And oddly enough, my morning was not what did me in today.

Let's back up to last night. Considering how exhausted I am every morning and throughout my day, I decided to use a sleep calculator to figure out the best time for me to go to bed. Given that I try to wake up at 7am each morning (I have a fairly long commute and I'm a snail as far as movement goes in the morning), the calculator told me to either fall asleep (this is fall asleep, not go to bed) at 11:30pm or 1am. So I tried 11:30...to no avail. I was wide awake straight through midnight. And so I attempted 1am. That worked, and I woke up feeling less tired than usual, but I was still sour.

This was slightly alleviated by a breakfast of toast with Justin's Nut Butter Company's Hazelnut Chocolate spread on it. Anything remotely close to being Nutella can always make me feel better.

As per usual, I didn't get a seat on the subway. This normally doesn't bother me, but I was carrying more than usual today and kept getting cut off for seats by people who weren't carrying anything, and did not seem physically incapable of standing. Common courtesy, people. C'mon.

Work was stressful in the way that the day flew by and I felt as though I couldn't get anything done. Then I left too late to run, which resulted in me being frustrated with no outlet for said frustration.

I walked to the subway so fed up with people for the day...only to be met by throngs of people all three blocks to the train, because Fashion Week is terrible and ruining EVERYTHING. I looked a lot like Bjork did before attacking a reporter at the airport all those years ago.

Someone's purse was bumping my arm the entire ride home.

Slow people were in front of me on the stairs coming up from the train.

Thankfully I was greeted by a cat that was stoked to see me home earlier than usual.

Nothing particularly horrible happened today, but I was just so mad. Is this just a case similar to that of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day?

[image via childrensbookalmanac.com]

Is this what happens when a girl in training misses her run?

Is this the result of eating chicken wings two days in a row? Nah, it's definitely not that.

This got me thinking of surefire things to put me in a good mood.

Cat Time
One of the reasons I sort of prefer animals to people is because they love you unconditionally. And I love them unconditionally. My cat hates when I leave, and loves when I have lazy days with him on the couch. Coming home to him, and seeing how excited he is that I walked in the door is enough to make me smile. I mean, he cuddled up in my arm after I plopped on the couch. He's the best.

Good Deeds
There was one moment on my walk to the train that actually made me crack a smile. There's a homeless young woman who's always in the same spot, which is sometimes outside of a food truck. There have been many times when I wished I had food to give her, because she holds a sign that just says, "A little kindness goes a long way." She's not even asking for anything except for people to be decent humans. So as I walked by her today, the burger truck was next to her, and one of the cooks came out and gave her a big bag of fresh food. The look on her face was priceless.

Good Food
This is probably a given. But I'm serious when I specify GOOD food. I'm very picky about my food when I'm in a bad mood, because if the food isn't up to my standards at that time, I will have a toddler-style meltdown where I fall to the floor and just start crying. I opted for Thai food tonight at a place that has yet to let me down. Tonight was no exception.

Matt in Cleveland
It's never not funny. You can stop listening at 00:36.



A Good Run
Again, emphasis on GOOD. And today would've been a wonderful one. I'm not sore from my 10-miler on Saturday. The weather was perfect. I was in a good mental state to set a personal record (though my personal record at 5 miles is sub-40 and if that ever happens again it will be a miracle).  Now that I've missed tonight's run, I have to reschedule it for Friday which makes me feel like...

That's about all that's on my mind tonight. I've got to send the rest of my good vibes to RGIII so he can generate more fantasy points for team Sweet Breezus.

One more pet peeve: I almost always type out "fantasy" as "fantasty" first. Ugh.

On What Goes Through My Mind On a Daily Basis...

Throughout my formative years I was known as the kid that would go with the flow. My parents could tell me to get in the car and I would just do it, no questions asked, no trouble caused. My friends would decide what we were going to do on a play date, and if I didn't agree with it, I usually just went home without causing a scene.

And then I think high school hit me along with (probably) hormones and my calm, cool, collected mindset disappeared.

Don't get me wrong, I put up a pretty calm front most of the time. And it's usually very genuine. But when something gets under my skin, I maintain that front and internalize all the stabby feelings I have, and it's probably not good for me. My blood pressure goes up, my hands get cold. My breathing gets shallow.

No place has been able to do this to me more than New York City. Within the first few months of moving here, I thought I needed to see a doctor because I kept getting really lightheaded and dizzy. And then I realized that this place was giving me anxiety and that it went against social mores to confront those who were making me crazy.

So let's take a trip inside my head on a regular day...

Like today. Get on the subway. I'm wearing high-heeled boots, carrying two bags and an umbrella. At the first stop, a seat opens up. I don't normally take a seat (because sitting is killing us all...and it's what I'm doing now), but I should've known the boots would be an issue, and so I took it. It was an old school F train that has some forward-facing seats, so I took one next to a window to avoid being the person that takes the aisle seat and refuses to move in. I thought I was doing the world a service. And then an oblivious older (but not old) woman sits next to me. Puts one purse on her lap, puts her iced coffee between her legs, plops her other (open) bag between us...when there really isn't any room between us (really, Bloomberg, the width of the subway seats is enough to discourage us from drinking soda and being obese), and that's when the instant anger hit me.

I hate when other people or their stuff is touching me when it doesn't need to be. Like, feeling it on me seriously infuriates me. It's the worst if it's their hair (disgusting), but just them or their stuff does the trick, too. So this woman's bag is all up on me. I try moving over more, but I can only go so far over without clinging to the wall of the car and getting my legs all up on the person in front of me (who was minding her own business and not putting her crap all over someone). So I did what any typical New Yorker does. I shook my head. I glared. I gave out a loud sigh. Nothing.

I thought for sure she would eventually move the bag because, common sense, yeah? No. Some people are actually just that oblivious. She got on one stop after me, and got off one stop before I did. And I was furious the entire time.

The anger built up inside me to the point where I actually thought I might say something. But when you say something, suddenly you're the asshole. I couldn't be like, "You know it's really rude to put your bag on someone," because god only knows what scene she would've caused. She practically caused a scene getting off the train as she poorly carried her open bags that were begging for a pickpocket. And why were her bags all over the place? So she could read The New York Post. Hey guess what, I was reading a book (getting more than anyone will ever get from the Post) and was able to put both of my big bags on the ground AND prevent my umbrella from injuring anyone. NO EXCUSES.

During my lunch break, my lunch buddy and I hung out at the fountain at Lincoln Center. This was probably the most calming moment of my day. Water has always been something that completely mellows me out. I closed my eyes (because I was trying to look at the top of the water and the sun was blinding me) and the sound made me want to be at the ocean. I can't tell you the last time I was at the ocean. Oh wait, I can. It was 2010 with my college field hockey team in Bermuda. It was a great trip that I can't stand seeing pictures of because I wasn't all that field-hockey-ready and someone decided it would be a great idea to take a team picture in bathing suits. Jerk.

Actually taking in something like this in New York makes me think, "this place isn't so bad." And then I go back to my desk and check my bank account and go, "LOLYEAHRIGHT."

I guess I can give it some credit for being a free attraction. Some kids wanted to go in it too, which would've then provided free entertainment.

After work, it was time for a five mile run in Central Park. I dread my run all day, and then I change into my workout clothes (aka my badass look) and suddenly I'm ready to go.

And then I get to Central Park and the frustration sets in again. As a runner, I realize I need to share the road with cyclists and walkers. But they also need to share the road with me. Don't bike in the run/walk lane when there's a wide bike lane right next to you. Don't go speeding through the narrow bike lanes due to the addition of car lanes (what??? Yeah, it's a thing. Ugh.) and then slalom into my lane as if to scare me. You'll get the arms-spread WHAT?! look and make me run faster when I shouldn't be. If you're walking at a leisurely pace and not for exercise, it's probably a better idea to use the walking path that's right next to the run/walk path, because no one is moving fast on those. You know, let's be smart. C'mon.

And for the love of god, don't just stop dead in front of me. And if the crosswalk doesn't say you can cross, and I'm running through it, don't play chicken with me. I know my rights and my right-of-ways, jerk. And there are run/walk, bike and car lanes in the park. I don't see any skateboard or rollerblade lanes. This isn't the '90s. And you're all going too fast! Oh, you want to go around the reservoir? Too bad, bikes aren't allowed, and there's not enough room for them, plus there's so much dirt on that path it's like running on the beach. You wouldn't bike on the beach, would you? And that sign? It says you have to go around the reservoir counterclockwise. You know, because it's narrow and we allow tourists and walkers up here and us runners need to pass them because TIME MATTERS DAMMIT. And don't take forever to take a picture here, because I'm gonna run through it.

And seriously, if you cut me off as I get to the top of the hill, I will contemplate tripping you or calling you a name, but I probably won't actually do it because I'm not wearing a bullet-proof vest, and I'm too tired to use any self-defense skills on you.

Guys, I would make such an awesome Central Park ranger.

So then my run is over, and I'm in much better spirits as calories have been thoroughly burned. I get back to the office and feel like a superstar and pick up my stuff. And then I get on the subway again, sweating like a pig, because there isn't any A/C on the subway platforms. Seriously, Bloomberg, this would be more important than a soda ban. Get your act together, sir.

I get on the train and refuse to take a seat this time around because I'm considerate. I'm literally dripping sweat despite how much I've attempted to dry off, and despite the fact that I've changed out of my running shirt, and I don't want to get the seats sweaty for other passengers. I mean, I would be pissed if I saw someone doing this.

I take my usual standing area by the door that's opposite the side that will open the most. The train isn't too packed, and there's plenty of other standing areas. Yet a woman decides that right next to me is the best place to stand. Not even against the poles on the other side of the door, but right next to me. At this point I can't feel bad. She's the one who has to smell my sweaty self. And I know I smell bad, because one time after field hockey practice, my mom picked me up with my then 3ish-year-old niece in the car and she said, "Auntie B, you stink." Kids don't lie. So I can't really care if this woman smells me at this point, but I can be annoyed that's she's within a foot of my personal space.

The rest of the ride is uneventful as the woman, luckily, gets off at the next stop. I get home, take a shower, then get to my laundry that needs to be done. One good thing about training for a race? It forces me to do laundry more than once a month, since I run out of running clothes after a week.

I get down to the laundry room in my building and all the machines are being used. But they all only have about 10 minutes left, so I decide to wait and play on my phone. I get caught up on all the games I've neglected for weeks, because I'm the worst person ever to start an app-based game with. One washer finishes, and no one is there to empty it.

Ever since college where if you weren't there to get your stuff within five minutes someone would leave it out for the world to see, I make sure I get to my washers and dryers at least five minutes before their cycles are done. Apparently I'm alone in this thinking, because three more washers finished, and no one was there to get their stuff.

I think the college shaming of touching someone else's laundry (a task that always skeeved me out and I only did once and got caught doing. oops.) is probably inappropriate in the adult world, so I sat there fuming at someone thinking they're the only person who needs the laundry room on a Monday night. Don't do this to me, person. Mondays are usually my golden laundry days. I think about how I'm going to say, "Hey jerk, I was waiting here for 15 MINUTES, which is practically a year for a millennial like myself. WHERE. WERE. YOU."

And then a little middle aged woman came skittering in, apologizing for not getting there sooner, and of course I donned the sweetest smile I could muster and said, "It's ok, it happens!"

[via tumblr]

Not to me it doesn't. That woman used four washers and commandeered the laundry room as her own folding factory. I could never live in an apartment complex without my own washer and dryer if I have enough people living with me that I need to use four washers.

Thank god for cats as therapeutic animals, otherwise I would've blown a gasket by now in this city. How can you not be stoked to come home to this:

[Budstah Malone]

So those are the thoughts that go on in my head during the day. It's not a pretty place to be. It's pretty exhausting, actually. But it's also something I can't help, and it's the reason I sometimes get lightheaded and stop breathing regularly. So if you're ever around me when this happens, help a sister out and get some chocolate or an iced drink or something to me, stat. Thanks?

On the Mental Aspects of Running...

We may have gone over this, but I didn't consider myself a runner for a very long time.

I spent middle school and high school pursuing field hockey, softball and lacrosse, and when I saw the cross-country runners and track athletes while I was at practice, I thought they were crazy. I certainly never thought their sport was any less than the one I was currently playing, especially because there was no way in hell you could convince me to run three miles, or run as fast as I could without a goal being scored in my favor.

Then in college I got super healthy and crazy about working out and running became part of that routine. I was able to run a mile in 6:48, and then I shot for two miles. My vacation in California during that spring break began with a run around the resort every morning.

That summer I did my first 5K, and after crossing the finish line I told my father, "I'm never doing that again." It probably had a lot to do with the fact that I ran 3.1 miles in the most humid weather I've ever experienced (it was a lot like what is going on right now in New York City).

I took a hiatus from running during my senior year of college because I had other things going on that seemed more important at the time. And then after graduating and having a lot of time on my hands while looking for a job, I decided to pick it up again. That same summer I saw my father finish his first half marathon, and I knew I wanted to accomplish the same.

So I've been a distance runner ever since I started training in June 2011. Let me tell you, running is not all physical strength. In fact, most of it is mental. If you're in decent shape and don't have any physical ailments, you can run. But it might not be a great run. A great run is all in your head.

As you can imagine, my first training session was rough. I had a four mile long run ahead of me, and there was lots of stopping after that two mile mark. I worked a lot on breaking through the "I can't" and "I'm too tired" voices in my head and eventually was able to go through every long run without stopping between water stations. The same goes for both half marathons I've run.

This training session has been very different. I had a lot of high hopes for running this year. When I moved to this neighborhood I would do weekend long runs - even though I wasn't training for anything - and I seriously killed them. KILLED them. There was no pressure on me and I was in a pretty good place in life. I did treadmill runs during the week, which were the ultimate mental tests in my opinion, and did pretty well for the most part. And then I started running in Central Park after work a few months ago, and once again was running better than I ever imagined.

Then training started, I set a goal of trying to finish this next half marathon in under two hours and nothing has really been working out for me. There are days when I just get lost in my music and am able to run just as I did before, and then there are days like today where I start off running at a 7:30 pace (what?!) and by mile two I have shooting pain in my lower legs.

I've prided myself on being able to push through most pain at this point in my running career, but today seriously sucked. My brain couldn't jump the hurdle of pain and I ended up cutting my run short. As I walked the rest of the way home I was extremely disappointed in myself. I thought, there's no way I can finish this race in less than two hours, I don't know why the hell I even do this, I want to eat french fries for the rest of the day.

I'm still maintaining that last part - because c'mon, french fries - but as I showered and relaxed and recovered, my thoughts have improved. I still did four miles, and that still counts for something.

Even though running can be an emotional roller coaster, there's no better therapy for me. When my mind is in the right place during a run, I can think so much more clearly. I can even do math. MATH. Breaking through that barrier to get to that happy place is why I do this. And so I can have days of eating french fries.

And on that note, tomorrow's run will be better.

On the Necessity of Deadlines...

...because I'm the worst blogger of all time.

See, if I don't have a deadline looming in the distance, staring me down and scaring the crap out of me, I sit around on my couch watching hours of Say Yes to the Dress, eating ice cream and talking to my cat. I also do other things that involve other humans, but you get the picture.

So my blog goes without an update for weeks...months...a long time. Thankfully I didn't set out writing this blog as a daily log of my life, but rather a collection of thoughts and whatnot. So regular updates aren't all that necessary. You don't want to read my writing when it's uninspired.

I could give you every excuse in the book as to why I haven't updated, and most would be half true.

I've been busy...
This one's been true for the past month and a half. I just got back from a trip to Los Angeles for a big work event that I had a very important role in, so I actually did do some work from home after putting in eight hours or so at the office.

There were also nights where I went out with friends, visited my family back home, visited the boyf up north or sat on my couch and ate pizza.

And then there were days where I thought about updating and fell into a spiral of childish self-loathing and just didn't want to write on here.

I don't have anything to write about...
False. There are always things I could write about. I'm not saying I have a particularly riveting life, but I could always tell you what I did that day. That might be boring unless I tell you what I thought about all day. But do we really want to go that deep? Is that a thing that I should write about on a public blog that strangers in Germany read (not lying)?

If I did choose to write about my thoughts, I think I would sound like I'm whining. So, you're welcome.

I need to focus on my half marathon training...
That's actually 100% true, but not an excuse for not updating. I'm about two weeks into training, and because of the big work event, I'm off to a rocky start. I've vowed to get super serious this week, which means getting every training run in, eating healthy (but I love pizza and chicken wings and fries!!!) and getting some strength and conditioning workouts in here and there (thank you, Pinterest).

Those are actually the only excuses I could think of, and they're all pretty lame.

I should make it a rule to blog after every training run. That way I'll be keeping my blogging and running promises. I mean, other than finishing in under two hours, my other goal for this half is to come out of it looking like a shorter version of Ellie Goulding (even though my body is not even close to being the same shape as hers. A girl can dream), and that won't happen all on its own.

So guys, whoever you are out there readin' this thang, keep me to this. Write comments on here badgering me to update if I fall behind. Send me Facebook messages to yell at me. Tweet at me. Send me a Vine. Or tell me in person that I need to get on this. Whatever works for you.

Until...tomorrow?

On Days Without Caffeine...

Ugh.

Guys, this was not intentional. A day without caffeine is never intentional when it comes to me. I. need. coffee.

This day started beautifully. I woke up around 11 am after a particularly stressful week, much to my cat's dismay. He wants me to wake up at 7 everyday even though doing so means I'm gone for about 10 hours. So I got out of bed like Snow White with birds chirping and smiling animals surrounding me (false), and slowly got ready for my Saturday long run.

I never drink coffee before my run, so the thought of making it never crossed my mind. I did make some toast with Peanut Butter & Co,'s Dark Chocolate Dreams though. That is not something I regret.

Next I went for a rather hilly run that was supposed to be 7 miles, but I made it 6 instead. I also saw an even nicer part of my neighborhood, just when I thought it couldn't get nicer.

After a shower, I put on sweatpants and pretty much sealed the deal that I would not be leaving the apartment for the rest of the day. I did laundry, cleaned the place a bit, watched the movie Friends with Kids and then Pulp Fiction was on, and I never remembered to make coffee or tea.

So about half an hour ago, I thought, "Wow, I"m super tired! Maybe I should call it a night!" I then looked at the clock and saw that it was 10 pm. That's not incredibly early, but I'm 24 and it's Saturday and I just can't do that. When I started typing this, I was laying on the couch with my laptop trying to keep my eyes open. I fought the urge to nap because napping that close to when I want to go to bed would be detrimental.

Let's talk about some other things, like the movies I watched.

Friends with Kids. I wanted to see this movie from the first preview that I saw. Kristen Wiig? Jon Hamm? Adam Scott? Sign me up. I didn't realize this wasn't a straight-up comedy though. It was a little depressing until the last half hour where they actually explained the message. SPOILER ALERT(ish): The message is to find someone who you want to be with even at their lowest. Thank god I got me one of those.

Pulp Fiction. I love this movie. I've seen it more times than I can remember. However, I watched it today on VH1, which decided not to go the HD route today? And had very poor editing/censoring. I mean, come on, if you can't handle the task of making this regular-cable-friendly, then don't even try. Don't ruin one of my favorites.

Tomorrow will be filled with a shopping trip for my upcoming business trip to LA. I'm looking forward to finding new shoes, and not looking forward to finding clothes that a) flatter this shape and b) make me look like an adult that works in the music industry.

Do you ever feel like you never look as old as those around you when they were your age? It happened to me a lot throughout high school and college. And it happens a lot now. I look in the mirror and see a teenager when really I'm staring at a 24 year old that lives on their own and is expected to be responsible. No matter what I wear, this always happens. Do I just accept that I'm perpetually 16?

Maybe I'll post an update tomorrow with my finds...if there are any.

This has been Brianne's day without caffeine. Good riddance.

Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made of...

Hey there.

I'm Brianne (Bri) and you've stumbled upon my personal blog.

I've blogged about food for the past three or so years, and am currently in the process of revamping my food blog, and while brainstorming improvements, I decided to separate my random musings from my food revelations to keep the future food blog more focused.

And so, And What Would Bri Say? was born. You may be thinking, "what's with the name?" I had this pretty annoying tendency as a young child to ask too many questions. I would go to climb some unstable tower of toys or going running around our house's wooden floors wearing socks, and my parents would say something like, "Brianne stop! You're gonna fall and crack your head open!" And so the questions began: "And then what would you say? And what would Dad say? And what would my sisters say? And what would the dog say?" I figured by now it's time to hear what I would say.

A little about myself for those that don't know: I'm from Buffalo and have more hometown pride than I ever thought I would. I've lived in New York City for a year now. I have a bit of an obsession with music and am constantly thinking of what will be in my next meal. I run regularly for at least half the year while training for half marathons, the other half of the year is too cold, too dark and too consumed with work to really take it too seriously.

I suppose you'll learn more about me as this blog gets updated. It likely won't be on a regular basis, but we'll see what happens!

Thanks for reading this somewhat pointless intro, and stay tuned for more :)