Introducing: Hazel

Losing Zoey was hard. I was convinced it would be a long time before I'd be ready for another cat. With such a unique bond and history the two of us had shared, I was afraid getting another cat would make me more sad, wishing I could have my Zoey back. My friend Kristal has a lot of animals, and therefore had a lot of experience losing them too. I remember when I first asked her how many pets she had, she prefaced it with "I know I'm going to sound crazy so I'll tell you how many of each kind I have instead." As it turns out, her advice and understanding helped me realize that maybe finding someone new now would help me through the grieving process.

We took it slowly at first. Matt and I visited some of the local shelters. The first one didn't have quite the cat we were looking for. As shallow as it sounds, we wanted to get a cat that was of similar color to Zoey because fur wouldn't show as much on our furniture. Sorry, kitty. Last time we picked a couch to match our cat, this time it would be the other way around. Another thing Kristal added was that if I really enjoyed the breed I had before, why not do it again? Chances are personalities would be similar. In case you didn't notice, we really loved our laid-back tabby cat.

For me, it was more about the feeling I got with interactions. I could look at online listings all day and still not make a decision. Nevertheless, we pored over the listings, finding a few that sounded good on paper and headed to the county animal shelter.

The first cat we met was a sleek black cat that Matt had his eye on. It took him all of five seconds to realize that gorgeous, inky black panther April would be a curtain climber. We wanted a chill pal. We met a couple more cats, giving everybody a little love as we moved through the shelter.

Then we were introduced to Hazel. She was one I was drawn to in the photo, in part because she was a little older, but also because it looked like she had a rough life and just needed a place to crash. Everybody wants a kitten, but I find that older cats are just as great and less likely to destroy your furniture.

I reached my hand out for her to sniff and her neck extended as long as it possibly could reach. She rested her head in my palm, leaning her whole body into me as if I gave the best neck scratches in all the land. After that, I was sold.

Day 1 with a new attack cat. As you can see, she's fierce.

Matt wanted to go home and discuss it. I assumed that if we left, we'd never come back. The animal shelter estimated her age to be eight years old so we walked out with the senior pet discount. She didn't look that old to us. My heart was full and warm. Until we started the car. The thirty minute car ride back home, she sang to us.

That night, she sang all night, meowing so loudly that Matt had to wear ear plugs to fall asleep. The same thing happened for the first three nights. "What have we gotten ourselves into now?" we asked ourselves. I googled separation anxiety and tried everything. Nothing worked but time. On the fourth day, Matt and I realized that she was no longer meowing at night or whenever we left the room.

"I love you Karen. You're not allowed to leave me. Not even to go to the bathroom."

Eventually we went to the vet. Given her estimated age, we wanted to make sure we weren't taking on a sick kitty from the start. Emotionally, I knew I couldn't handle that just yet. Over the last few years through Zoey's vet visits, we got to know our veterinarian pretty well. The look on his face when I brought Hazel in with me was priceless. He knew how hard it was for us to lose Zoey and he was so happy to see we could accept someone new into our lives. Everything checked out and we got her a rabies shot. Based on the state of her teeth, it is estimated our gal Hazel is about five years old.

This photo makes me LOL.My MIL sent us that book for Christmas.

Since then, everything has gone smoothly. She loves lounging around, napping on the couch with me, and surprisingly, responds well to the word "no". It's obvious she's had another family before who either didn't look for her or stopped looking after she ran away. In addition, they did  a really good job at keeping her from scratching random things and begging for human food. It will take some time before we let her enjoy the backyard because we're afraid she might just revert to her wandering ways, but it's something we're working toward.

Welcome Hazel! We're so glad you're here! :)

Trinidad to Clam Beach Run 8 3/4 Miler

An icy ocean breeze meets us as we step off the bus. Matt and I search around at the race start for a place to wait out of the wind. Just as every ugly weather day race we've had thus far (and ohhh have there been many, particularly marathon days), the coziest refuge is within the four walls of the portable toilet. Since we are among the first people to arrive at the start, we get dibs on the freshly cleaned shelters.

Before we realize it, it's time for a warmup, a quick dash into the bushes, and a brisk walk to the start line before we kiss goodbye. Matt heads off with the speedsters, I tuck in somewhere a few rows behind him. For as beautiful as this net downhill course is, it's always ridiculously hard. I don't know if it's the almost 500 feet of climbing that does it or the fact that it falls in an awkward point in my training year where I don't quite have my speed legs rolling yet after marathon recovery. Either way, I've never been able to run faster than marathon pace on this 8.6 mile (it's always shorter than advertised) course. The main goal for the race this year is simple: don't blow up before Trinidad at mile 3.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

The pack takes off quickly. When I notice that my watch is clocking in at 7:00/mi. I pull the pace back. The first mile is downhill, but I know I'll pay for it if I don't hold back now. Later, I tell myself, save it for later.

The course meanders through a thick forest overlooking the ocean. For now, I'm thankful that the headwind is blocked by the terrain. I run based on effort and as usual, it means I'm passing others on the uphills and being passed on the downhills. Unlike last year, when I was injured and dealing with a recent asthma flare up, I'm feel good. Controlled. Healthy.

Mile 1: 7:35
Mile 2: 7:39

Up ahead, I can spot Jeff, one of my training buddies in his favorite pair of red shorts. It was his plan to run at his half marathon pace, which is the same as my marathon pace. I'm surprised to see he's up ahead, but notice that I'm slowly reeling him in. But just the same, it's power up the hills, relax down them, yet some are so steep that I find myself wishing we could continue climbing. I take some time to enjoy the forest in all its foggy moodiness.

There are two quick turns and suddenly I've caught up to Jeff. After nearly three miles, I've finally found my cruising pace on a relatively flat stretch of road. This is pretty much the only place on the course with nice smooth pavement and it's a relief to focus more on my breathing than on my footing. We cruise through Trinidad together.

Mile 3: 7:32

Here's where the scenery changes. We emerge from the forest, traveling down a ribbon of road that clings to the edge of the coastline, appropriately named Scenic Drive. The road isn't in the best condition and erosion is obvious as the road is reduced to one lane in some spots because land simply doesn't exist there anymore.

A spot on the course taken on a sunny day a few years ago when my family came to visit.

When I tell friends from out of the area about this race, I liken it to the Big Sur Marathon course, only the ocean is on your right side. Panoramic views of the rugged coastline get better and better as the race goes on.

Mile 4: 7:37

Jeff and I continue on together, the two of us within a large gap in the pack. There's nobody for at least a minute behind and ahead of us. Little by little, I pick up the pace when the footing is good and I see that we're getting closer to the pack ahead of us. I pull ahead of Jeff to go single file to let a car pass and then that's the last I see of him.

Mile 5: 7:10

Now that I'm solo, I'm trying everything I can to catch up to the pack ahead. I spot a runner who seems to be slowing, perhaps enjoying the view. As I get closer, I can see it's another running buddy, coincidentally also named Jeff. He always makes a big deal of it when I beat him, so I know that catching up will at least get a rise out of him, even if I can't stay ahead.

Course profile. Apparently when running on the beach, it's below sea level and Garmin doesn't know what to do.

Mile 6: 7:47

Mile six contains the largest uphill and steepest downhill on the course. I pull up alongside the second Jeff and ask him if he's going to come with me. We make the steep quarter mile downhill access road to the beach together. I'm right behind him as we cross the river.

This year, the Little River is only about mid-thigh on me (armpit last year, yiiiikes), but after I was swept off my feet last time, I take no chances and go slowly, hand on the rope, chatting with the coast guard boys in wet suits monitoring the flow of runners from downstream. By the time I pull myself from the water, my legs are completely numb and Jeff has taken off down the beach.

Mile 7: 7:59 (including 40 sec river crossing)

I try to catch back up, but my shoes are heavy with water, my numb legs don't want to get going again, the wind is whipping in my face, and wait a second, is he speeding up? Meanwhile, I feel like I'm pushing the pace only to see that my enormous effort is yielding pretty much the same pace as the earlier miles. Oh well. Run your own race.

I pass several people on the beach, finally recognizing the girl up ahead. We're only a couple years apart in age, but in my muddled racing brain math, I've convinced myself that Corinna is in my age group. I know we're both near the front of the pack and an age group win could be on the line. I pick it up. She looks over her shoulder and accelerates. I know she runs with a pack of girls who regularly run on the beach. This is her home turf. By contrast, I hate running on the beach. It smells, it's windy, and I never can get all the sand out of my shoes.

Mile 8: 7:29

Despite my best efforts, I remain within a few feet of her, but neither able to draft off her or pull ahead. There I will stay for the remainder of the race.

I glance down at my overall pace for the first time today. With a pace almost twenty seconds per mile faster than before, I know I'm in for a pretty nice PR. I can hear the college marching band playing from quite a distance away. I focus on the sound, willing it closer and closer.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

Mile 8-finish: 4:29 (7:29/mi.)

By the time I'm within kicking range, I have no oomph left. A pit of soft sand greets me through the final stretch to the line. When I finally cross, I'm completely spent.

And still just a few seconds behind Corinna. I thank her for the motivation and then hobble off in search of my warm sweatshirt. As it turns out, she's not in my age group just yet. ;) YAY.

Y. Kim, SRRC Photo.

1:05:19
7:36/mi. (<--again b="" exactly="" marathon="" my="" pace="">
6th Female, 1st F30-34

After last year's disaster of a race with my hip injury and asthma problems, I'm really pleased with how this race went. I felt I paced myself well. My times continue to improve, this one netting a three minute PR (previous: 1:08:28). And this race is so beautiful and unique that, even with the obstacles, it's a lot of fun to participate every year.

Matt finished in 55:15, a 6:40/mi. pace, which was good enough for 15th place overall.

Y. Kim SRRC photo.