Running Again

It was a big landmark to be able to run yesterday - three miles of running, with some walking breaks, instead of three miles of walking with some running breaks.  Ligaments are slow to heal because they do not have an extensive blood supply like muscles.  So now it is a matter of slowly increasing the mileage without re-injuring the sprained ligament, of holding back deliberately, visualizing the healing and strengthening flow of blood, waiting patiently for that ligament to heal again and catch up with the rest of me . . . which wants to charge up Big Bearpen as fast as I can! 

What a great Christmas present it will be to be able to run again!

Butterflies in December

More progress today as I make that slow journey of recovery back to fitness again - another acupuncture treatment today, and then a hard four-mile walk (partly up Big Bearpen) which included two half-mile intervals.  I felt that I could have run a mile without stopping,but I am struggling to maintain the progress I have already made.

And what a gorgeous day it was this afternoon!  Bright horizontal clouds, and behind them a gleaming winter sun low in the afternoon sky.  It felt like mid-April rather than mid-December.  Yesterday I was actually painting two new doors for the sunroom outside, under the covered deck - in itself a little unusual for this time of year, but I did not expect gnats to be buzzing around my face!  (And why do gnats seem to have enough brainpower to realize when its victim is holding a paint brush, or a stone for a new wall, or otherwise has his hands occupied).  Harry at the paint store told me that someone had come in earlier and said they saw a butterfly!  Imagine what a bewildered butterfly might be thinking as he flutters around my neighbor's just-blooming forsythia!

Enjoy it while we can, fellow roadrunners and roadwalkers.  Cold weather will arrive eventually - probably about the time when I am capable or running once again. . .

Progressive Healing

Saturday I increased the length of my "intervals" to 400 meters, walking a total of 3 miles before, between, and after.  I found that I was able to increase my speed from a 12-minute mile to an 11-minute mile (2:45) by the final one, with no adverse pain, and each one faster than the other.  What an encouraging run/walk for an injured run/walker!  Today I repeated that performance, increasing my speed to a sub-10-minute-mile pace (2:28).  Now I will rest for a day, have another acupuncture treatment Wednesday (perhaps my last), and hope to run faster and longer on Wednesday afternoon.  I am a long way from those sub-2:00 intervals I ran earlier this summer, but it is nice to be progressive instead of regressing.

My fellow blogger J. P. Krol, who winter caretakes Mt. LeConte (http://www.highonleconte.com/daily-posts), posted this photo and quote this weekend, which reminded me of the mountains still to climb and the blessings for which we should all be thankful.

"A healthy body is the greatest of blessings." - Socrates

A Slow Recovery

Dr. Sue Aery told me to try running today, so I did.  After several weeks of merely walking, it was a strange feeling to once again park in the accustomed place opposite Founders Park and don real running gear - my CWX tights (more for stability and support than for cold on this beautiful morning in the upper 40s), my headband and gloves, and my newest pair of running shoes.  I walked the first mile, and then when I came to that one-mile stretch along our route which I have marked off in 200-meter increments, I gingerly raised myself up on the balls of my feet, and in an odd old-man-shuffling kind of way I actually ran 200-meters, and without any major discomfort.  Wisely, I stopped to walk the next 200, and then I tried it again, completing a total of four 200-meter "intervals" in all, at perhaps the slowest pace I have ever done.  But I was elated!  I finished up with a mile cool-down walk, and although I felt a few unusual twinges during that last mile, I arrived back at my car a happy runner.  If 0.50 miles entered in my running log entitles me to that status.

Thank God for this amazing body that can heal after injury, that can recover and become strong again after stress!  And what a gift it is to be fit and healthy, a gift that we runners often take for granted.  The biggest temptation now will be to increase mileage and speed too rapidly, but I do not want to undo all the good that the apparently successful combination of rest, massage, ultrasound, and acupuncture has accomplished.  I have definitely lost fitness and strength, and I feel this afternoon as if I have run 15 or 20 miles.  So I will rest and stay off my feet as much as possible, and let the slow recovery continue.

Highlands Sidewalker

Since my last post, I have tried to run again in fits and starts, but without success.  So I finally did what many of my fellow runners have done:  I consulted a professional.  The professional in this case is Dr. Sue Aery, who has a background in sports medicine (she was a star platform tennis champion) and who now runs Aery Chiropractic & Acupuncture.  Since my initial consultation on November 9, I have been treated with deep tissue massage, ultrasound, and finally two weeks ago my first-ever acupuncture treatment.  The acupuncture really seemed to be doing the trick for me, and I can now walk three miles without any discomfort whatsoever.  I hope that she will release me to run next week.  But this time I am not going to rush things.

But in the meantime, what a wonderful thing it is to walk!  Granted, I am doing 18-minute miles instead of 9-minute miles, I have gained two pounds, I am woefully out of shape, and I am becoming accustomed to walking on the sidewalk instead of out in the middle of the road.  But being out of doors in the brilliant, leafless early December sunshine brings the same kind of peace of mind that running does.

And what a miracle the human body is! - the process of healing and rehabilitation, so slow and sure, as I feel myself finally recovering.

'What a piece of work is a man! 
How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty! 
In form and moving how express and admirable! 
In action how like an Angel! 
in apprehension how like a god! 
The beauty of the world! 
The paragon of animals!

Taking the Bitter Medicine

Letter to the Mayor:

"Pat:  I read your vivid description of your injury, and all I can say is OUCH!!!  Jeez, that must have hurt!!

Best wishes for a speedy recovery, and we all hope to see you on the road soon."

Letter from the Mayor:

"Richard:  Thanks.  It is amazing how fast one can go into shock after a painful injury, and one sees one of their body parts in a discombobulated position!  It will take a long process, but I plan on a comeback."

Letter to the Mayor:

"Good!  Keep us posted.  I’m out for a few days with some tendinitis in my lower leg – too much mileage, combined with too much kneeling while pointing my new rock patio.  I kept coming back, running 2 miles, then 4 miles, then OUCH!  So I’m taking that bitterest medicine for all runners, Rest.  7 days tomorrow.  That’s what you need to do on a grander scale, but I’m confident you will be running again.  In the meantime, it must be pretty hard on Sally (as it is on Martha at this end)." 

And so that sums it up.  Seven days tomorrow.  My purpose holds to be uncharacteristically cautious and REST.  Rest that, paraphrasing the Bard, knits up the raveled sleeve of care.  And so this blog will rest, too, until further notice.  

If anybody is reading. . .

"Rest, rest, perturbed spirit" - Hamlet, Act I, Scene 5.

High Mileage Vehicles

We own a 1998 Honda CRV which has accumulated nearly 250,000 miles.  I could sell it for perhaps as much as $500, but it is worth more to me as a vehicle to haul rocks, sand, gravel, firewood and the like than replacing it with a pickup truck.  It also has a rack on top which enables me to haul lumber, so it is in many ways better than a pickup truck.  And it is a 4 X 4, which could mean a backup vehicle in snowy weather.  Looks pretty good from a distance, until you get up close and see all the wrinkles.  It has been in the shop from time to time.  And Jeez! - it sure makes some awful sounds, especially when it first starts up in the morning:  belts squealing, muffler rattling, engine straining and creaking to climb up the hill to the highway in the morning. 

 
That's what happens to high mileage vehicles if you don't sell them or trade them in - they just get older and older, drive shafts unexpectedly dropping out, strange lights appearing on the dashboard.  They are no longer reliable vehicles to take out of Town.

Very much like high mileage runners.  In the immortal words of the Grateful Dead, "They just keep truckin' on."

Injuries

In retrospect - ah, wonderful retrospect! - that ten-miler in my last post was a mistake.  I knew it was a mistake during the last two miles, and I should have stopped there.  But this runner is a stubborn creature and now he is an injured creature.  My e-mail to Vicki says it all:

I’ve been sidelined by a nagging injury – a little tendinitis in my right lower leg.  It seems to clear up when I run – I did a 9:35 mile yesterday as my second mile – but then hurts later in the day.  At least it’s not the other way around.  I remember running those perfect six miles with Art and you almost two weeks ago now, and felt race-ready, then missed some runs due to a stomach bug, and probably came back a little too aggressively to make up for lost time – typical mistake by a runner! – going a couple of miles on Sunday and then a hard 10 miles in the rain the next day (Monday).  I don’t want to wind up really injured, like Skip, so I’m probably going to back off on mileage and speed for awhile, and likely will not run the half marathon.

So that's the short story, and since this blog has few if any followers, it will suffice.  

But I do not know a runner who has not been injured, and usually it is his or her own fault:  too much too soon, inadequate warm-up or cool-down, etc.  How we deal with injury is what makes us real runners, runners for life.  So for my part, I'm going to the gym, walking, stretching, and taking that bitterest of medicines:  REST.

Gang Aft Agley

The famous line from Burns's poem certainly applied this weekend, when we had planned to run 12 miles.  First, it rained.  But a more serious obstacle for me was a 48-hour stomach virus that laid me so low I could not leave the house for two full days, finally beginning to recover on Sunday (enough for two easy miles down the road).  Imodium became a new and very valuable friend.  And I learned again the ingredients of the B.R.A.T. diet.  Who knows how we contract these bacterial infections?  A careless hand on the drinking fountain or the door at the public restrooms?  I am religious about using hand sanitizer after handling money.  Perhaps I overuse it, as MaryAnn suggested.  In any case, it cause us to miss dinner with friends on Saturday night, an evening with the Literacy Council on Sunday, and my final long run two weeks from the half marathon.

On top of that, it has been raining nearly every day, and neither of us is eager to run in the soaking character-building rains of the past.  But runners must learn to be flexible, and today the weather cleared for a brief two hours in the morning, enough for me to be able to complete 10 relatively good miles, although I have to admit I was pretty soaked when I returned home from the intermittent drizzle that would tease me, almost clearing entirely, then returning with renewed energy (usually where there was no shelter).  In the afternoon, another window of opportunity suddenly materialized as the radar showed clear skies and a chance of rain of 0% all afternoon (it was 50% as early as this morning, which is why I chose to take the chance and run then).  So as I write this afternoon, Martha is out completing her final long run, and in much better conditions than I had.

So perhaps after all we will have no "grief an' pain," or sodden shoes, at the end of day.

. . . Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,

In proving foresight may be vain:

The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

          Gang aft agley,

An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,

          For promis’d joy!

Goal Pace

Today I had some help from Art and Vicki as I ran what the little training plan I have devised called me to do:  run six miles at goal pace.  Martha had done the same yesterday, and both days delivered a perfect day for fast running - cool, clear, and slightly overcast.  Art (as expected) pushed the pace, but we averaged 9:54.  Since I was planning on 10:00, this was a confidence-builder.

Art commented that this type of run would be difficult all alone, and while acknowledging his help, I said it was also important to be able to run long tempo miles, or long-run miles, all alone, because essentially that is what you are doing in a race even though you have other runners around you.  Still, it is nice to have friends to help pace me, and I remember all the many friends who have done this in the past, as well as the times I have helped them in turn.

Cades Cove

Conditions were as fine in Cades Cove this year as I ever remember.  Temperatures were in the low 50s, climbing a bit by the end of the 10.3-mile run around the loop road which has become a tradition for some of us each September.  The Park Service closes the road to traffic until 10:00 a.m. during the summer, and so the morning is filled with drifting fog rising above the fields, and with runners, walkers, and cyclists, instead of bumper-to-bumper cars. 

 this year we spotted several deer, including two young fawns still nursing, many wild turkeys, and a yearling bear in a tree above us.  What a great place to run with friends each year, remembering one of the main reasons we enjoy this activity so much:  simply being out of doors in beautiful places like this, enjoying God's creation, and giving thanks for our own health and fitness.

Maggie Valley Moonlight Race

Neither of us felt especially sore after the previous night's race until we began to warm up a little for the 8-K Moonlight Race.  I ran downhill a little, did a few pickups, and then turned to run uphill, and that's when I began to feel a little soreness, as if I had run some intervals the day before.  But it was again a good night, temperatures down in the lower 70s (which actually felt a little chilly post-race), and we were both focused on running our best.  The course starts mid-way on that long two-and-a-half mile hill, goes up, then down, and then up again; I got off to a good start, although the hill was a little daunting, felt pretty strong until the turn-around.  Then comes two-and-a-half miles downhill, and the temptation for most runners is to pour it on despite the final hill yet to come after that turn-around.  Many younger runners passed me on the downhill, including - to my surprise - Martha, who pulled ahead and led almost to the turn-around.  I passed her again and then started uphill, realizing by her distance behind that she would be unlikely to catch me.  And the reason for that was an entire summer of running Big Bearpen.  Yes, my old friend stood me in good stead now as I pulled that final mile uphill, feeling strong on purposeful.

There is a point in every race when one thinks, "I can just continue on and finish this, or I can pick it up even more, into and through the wall of discomfort, as hard as I can."  And that's when I realized that I was beginning pass runners who had passed me earlier in the race.  That is a very heartening thing to have happen!  There goes that woman in the pink socks; there goes that tall white-haired guy who was probably in my age group, gasping out, "Good job" as I passed him decisively.  The last hundred yards passed by so quickly, just like the previous night!  I had my game face on, gritting my teeth, focusing on the road ahead of me, pumping my arms.  A little girl was standing near the finish, just before the final turn into the parking lot, with her hand out-stretched high-fiving runners, and I barely took notice.  "He's too serious looking!" I heard her say as I passed her by.  And I suppose I was.  "Yes, I'm too serous looking!" I said audibly, probably surprising some along the way, "I'm too serious!"  I finished in 48:11, feeling as if I had given it my all.  Who can do more?  I felt a little light-headed, and so did Martha when she crossed the line at 49:24, also looking as if she had given her all, perhaps even more than I had.  She told me later that her only goal was to finish under 50 minutes, so it was a happy night for both of us!

The Main Street Mile

It is truly exhilarating for a distance runner to run a one-mile race.  And the course at Waynesville is extraordinarily fast, beginning with a slight up-and-down roll, but then descending in a gradual downhill finish for the last half-mile or so.  The temperatures were in the low 70s, and Martha reminded me that the bank thermometer near the finish line four years ago had hovered a little over 90 degrees.  This was the third time I ran this race; in 2010 when I was in peak condition I finished in a surprising 6:48  - I did NOT think I could run that fast anymore! - and in 2011 I finished in a respectable 7:09.  But age has taken its toll, and four years later my only goal was to finish under eight minutes.  Martha had the same goal, I later discovered, and I was able to watch her finish because hers was the second of four heats.  As I stood at the finish line, I was surprised to see her coming in so soon!  Her time was 7:59.

I began to make my way to the start one mile up Main Street, jogging a little, walking some, and doing some fast pick-ups, just to wake up my muscles.  Whether it is a marathon or a mile, the excitement at the starting line seems to be the same, except when the starting horn went off this time I suddenly realized that there was no room for error.  No water stops, no walking breaks, no joking around with by-standers as I usually do during a marathon, simply a single, pure, hard run at 400-meter pace.  My first quarter was 1:56, which was very encouraging, and I was 3:56 at the 800.  (I later learned that Martha was a second faster at the half).  You can almost see the finish line at the half-way point.  The last half-mile went by so quickly!  I moved from side to side in the road, trying to find perfectly level terrain, because I felt that I might literally trip over my own feet, or stumble over a patched pothole.  As I approached the clock I realized I would be under eight, and only later found out I had run a 7:57.  A very satisfying night!

And did we wave anything for Maggie Valley, scheduled for tomorrow night?  Neither of us did - we ran as hard as we could, holding nothing back.

While waiting for Martha to finish, I saw my old friend Don Hendershot, who used to live in Highlands.  Don was the Race Director for the old Highlands School PTO 5-K, which I took over in 1994, and he cajoled me into running my very first 5-K in 1993.  So we come full circle.  His daughter Maddie (9) ran a 6:51, and Izzy (13) ran a 5:54.  I always get smoked by 9-year-olds and 13-year-olds these days. 

Race Week

It's race week and it's exciting to wrap up training - another long run Saturday ending with a 9:24 mile, and two 400-meter intervals yesterday (2:00 and 1:56).  The axiom for marathon training applies just as well to shorter races:  there is not much more I can do at this point to improve my race, but there is a lot I can do to make my race worse.  So it is taper time.

We are planning to run the Waynesville Main Street Mile on Friday night and the Maggie Valley Moonlight Race on Saturday night, and it occurs to me that I have never run races back-to-back on consecutive days like this.  I well remember talking to Charles Dotson form Lake Junaluska at my last Main Street Mile, an 89-year-old runner I kept running into at area races, and discovering that he was planning on running a 5-K the next morning.  So he is my inspiration.  And I hope he is still running and that I will run into him this weekend!

I keep a careful record of all my races, in a little book and on a spreadsheet, and they tell me that I first ran Maggie Valley in 1995 - it was my fifth race ever, and I have run it a total of 12 times now.  My fastest time was in 1998 (37:05) and my slowest was in 2011 (41:42).  I used to be infatuated with night-time races, and I have enjoyed many memorable evenings on that long mountain with Katy and Martha and many other runners and friends, including Richard Tankersley who is no longer with us.  I remember the clear, bright moon overhead sometimes, and driving rain other times; one year a hurricane, the first of the season, was just finishing up dropping what seemed like the entire Gulf of Mexico on us.  So it will be interesting to see what conditions will be this year.

I ran the Main Street Mile in 2010 (a surprising 6:48) and again in 2011 (7:09), and thoroughly enjoyed my first-ever street mile.  I did not know I could run that fast!  But speed is an elusive gift that fades with time, and I doubt that my time in either of these races will be as fast as then.  Now is now, and I am just trying to run the best race that I can run.  And give thanks that I am still running that long mountain in Maggie 20 years later, and that blazing mile through downtown Waynesville.

Maggie Valley

sometimes in the 1990s.

And I was not supposed to copy this photo.

A Touch of Fall

Can a touch of fall be discerned in the air so early in August?  It seems so.  Temperatures have been down in the low- to mid-60s, and the air remains cool well into the late morning now, especially in the shade or when cloud cover lingers.

This morning Martha and I both had a good run.  She actually started a few minutes before I did, 8:00 a.m. or so, and when we were sitting on our deck talking about the run at lunch time she said she had really enjoyed running so early when the Town was just beginning to wake up, traffic was light, and the air still nice and cool.  Although the sun was shining in Clear Creek, up in Town there was a veil of fog that did not burn away for nearly an hour.  These conditions certainly helped us both; she jumped her mileage up from six to eight, and I completed another 12-miler with much less effort than in the past two weeks.  In fact, on the last mile I decided to pick up the pace to see what I could do.  This is sometimes a good way to end a long run, and often the pace pick-up even means that you are using slightly different muscles, making the effort a little easier than the usual long-run pace.  I was pleased with a modest 9:58 mile; I had not known I was running that fast.

As the days turn cooler and the training continues, I hope that we will continue to see improvement as we moved toward some tentatively-planned longer races before the end of the year.  Soon the leaves will be blazing with color, you will be able to see your breath in the morning, and gloves will feel good in the cold air.  Surely there is no better time of year to be running! 

Negative Splits

After bemoaning the loss of speed in my legs, I decided to run a set of four 400-meter intervals this morning.  Light misty rain was falling from time to time, and it was one of the coolest mornings we have had.  Maybe that's all I need:  cool weather.  I ran a perfect set, increasing a second each time:  2:05, 2:04, 2:03, 2:02.  As Fred pointed out later in the week, they were perfect "negative splits."  A positive outcome.

Running Pretty Far

In 1971, folk singer Melanie (Melanie Safka - remember her?) released a song called "Brand New Key," which at the time was a bit scandalous because everyone knew she was talking about sex and not roller-skating:  "I got a brand new pair of roller skates, you got a brand new key."  Now that I am an old runner trying to find the speed in my legs, I think it is about running. 

Saturday I "skated" 12 miles, round and round Highlands.  And this morning, I did eight miles, up Big Bearpen and back down, and then up Sunset Rocks and back down, and then out Gibson Road - miles and miles of hills.  It seems I can run 20 miles these days during a period of only 72 hours, and hilly miles at that, but I can't seem to run faster than a 2-minute quarter-mile interval.  And with the possibility of a one-mile race and a five-mile race on the horizon in less than three weeks, I would like to find once again that elusive speed in my legs that only comes from repeatedly running intervals - "You have to run fast in order to be able to run fast," as a high school cross-country coach told me many years ago.

And so I thought about Melanie and her notorious lyric this morning: 

"Don't go too fast but I go pretty far."

Come on, speed!  It almost seems like you're avoiding me.

Remembering OBX

This week Kelly and Chris are visiting from Greenville, NC.  They are both training for the OBX Marathon in November, their first full marathon, although they have run the half marathon in November and the Flying Pirate in April in the past.  Kelly ran 14 miles last week so she is well ahead of schedule, and is supported by a large supportive running group in Greenville.  We took her up Bearpen on Monday and showed her some of our favorite routes, and today she was joined by Chris and we showed them some more.  It made us grateful that we do not have to start running at 5:00 a.m. to avoid the heat as they do in Greenville.  And we are glad, too, that they will not go back and tell their running club that they have lost any ground in training.  In fact, we were hoping we would see a bear so she would have a real story to tell them.

Talking to them brought back memories for me of this great race that I have run three times (and the Flying Pirate four times).  They were well familiar with that iconic bridge to Manteo!  Truly, is there not a bridge somewhere in every marathon which every runner must cross over to get to the other side?  That hard, difficult climb to greatness, and the passage to another shore.  As the Tom Hanks character said in that baseball movie A League of Their Own, "It's supposed to be hard.  If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard... is what makes it great."

Good luck to them both!  There are few experiences more meaningful to a distance runner than completing that first marathon, seeing that finish line suddenly appear around the corner in Manteo, friends cheering, knowing that you have done your very best!  May their training go well and may they have cool temperatures and a good day.

Water Lilies

We have had more visiting runners than usual this summer, and it is always interesting to run with them.  Today we met Sonia, who found our website weeks ago and e-mailed me; she did not want to miss any training for her first marathon at Disney World in January.  We ran six mile with her, and in the process took her round and about Highlands - the quiet neighborhoods where we normally run, the Nature Center where we stopped for water, and the Biological Station where she planned to hike with her husband in the afternoon.  "What a beautiful place to run!" she said.

I have often found it interesting that, while showing visitors Highlands, we seem to see it more clearly ourselves; it takes the perspective we have when running with others to notice once again how cool and beautiful it is in the morning with the mist drifting away over Satulah Mountain, and the sounds of katydids and morning birds all around.  When my sister visits us, for example, I find myself noticing more than ever how nice it is to dine on our deck in the evening, and then watch the fireflies come out and slowly rise and fall on the evening breeze.  She doesn't want to do much else but sit and simply soak it all in, and I find myself thinking, "Yeah, it is pretty wonderful, isn't it?"

And today Sonia stopped short on Lower Lake Road and simply dropped her jaw at the lovely water lilies on Ravenel Lake.

How many times have I run by this lake, engrossed in conversation or lost in my own thoughts, and not noticed how many more there seem to be this year than in the past?  To take the time to pause and be thankful for living and running in this beautiful place.

Lifeboat Tea

It's not always easy balancing running and hard physical work, and as I increase my training this summer to 30-mile-weeks and spend some time doing real work, I can feel it.  By real work I mean working in the garden, mixing up concrete and mortar in a wheelbarrow by hand, tearing out that old handrail on the porch with a crowbar, all out in the 80-degree-plus heat.  This kind of work, which I have always done despite my white-collar background, gives me an appreciation for those men amongst us who work like this all the time!  The builders and roofers and lawn guys, many of them Hispanic, who do good hard "honest" work.  As I sit bone-weary and drenched in sweat to take a break in the shade, I have to think that this cross-training will eventually prove more beneficial than the afternoon nap that seems to be the prevalent type of cross-training for most of those in my age group.  What I need mid-afternoon, after nine miles of hills this morning, is something that is a staple of  the British - a cup of tea!

Our favorite tea this summer is Lifeboat Tea, which we stocked up on at the Outer Banks this April.  It's imported from the UK and, according to the box it comes in, every purchase goes to help the Longhope Lifeboat Station in Orkney.  That is appropriate because as far as I know the only place to purchase it in this area is at the Chicamacomico Lifesaving Station in Rodanthe:

My little lifeboat, saving me from the sea of exhaustion!  Highly recommended to focus the mind and refresh the body in a time-honored way (since 1869, according to its package).  Although I do not think it will catch on with the roofers in Highlands.

Running Log Guilt

I have tracked the slow progression of my mileage in my running log, and it is encouraging to finally reach 30 per week - a number that makes me feel as if I am suddenly in a higher gear.  The last three weeks I ran 25.24, 27.03, 30.23, and 30.00 miles.  But last weekend I missed my long run.  Instead, on Saturday we went to Snowbird Mountain Lodge in Robbinsville to celebrate our 36th Anniversary.

Although I managed to ride a mountain bike Monday afternoon on the Cherohala Skyway, and we had a lovely hike in the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest on Sunday morning, my mileage suffered a setback.  I actually went five days without running.  So, consumed with "Running Log Guilt," I ran 9.00 miles on Wednesday, intervals on Thursday, and a long run on Saturday.  But the planned 12-mile long run was much more difficult than I had anticipated, even with nice cool breezes and lots of companions along the way.  I began to feel as if I was running the final mile or two of a marathon.  My worn shoes were not helping, either.  So I stopped at ten miles, feeling slightly disappointed at not completing the workout.

But should I really regret a long weekend with my beautiful wife in a beautiful place, eating good food and drinking good wine, and wandering amongst these towering giants?

What a foolish mistake it is to let one's life be dominated by running, and one's running life be dominated by the Running Log and its demand for more and more miles!  Instead, a runner should always listen to his or her body, and adjust accordingly.  So I took a complete rest day from running today, took new running shoes out of their boxes, and hit the reset button.  Tomorrow I am looking forward to running up some mountains again.

Hydration

The importance of hydration on these hot days of late June was brought home to me this morning as I completed by nine-mile run, which again included Big Bearpen.  But this time I climbed to the summit and back down again at the tail-end of my run when it had heated up five or ten degrees and I had become dehydrated.  Despite circling back to the water fountain at the Park several times in the first half of my run, the round-trip is four miles with no water (unless I carry it, which I do not), so by the time I staggered down Fifth Street back to the water fountain again I was feeling a little light-headed.  I was tempted to join the little kids from Rec Camp playing in the new fountain. 

And the scales when I returned home told me that I had lost three pounds.  Opinions vary just a little, but the formula for re-hydration is this:  “For every pound lost, replace it with 16 to 20 ounces of fluid."  So I've been drinking water all afternoon until it is sloshing around in my belly.  So is our little cat, returning frequently to one of the various bird-baths in the yard which I keep full for that purpose (would a bird be reckless enough to perch on one?)

And now it seems as if the very sky is becoming hydrated as the afternoon heat builds:  the growling of thunder on the horizon to the west, darker and darker clouds building.  The cloud cover and cool rain would be a welcome relief, and the garden which I have been watering almost daily would also appreciate it. 

I'm glad that I have now become an unrepentant (and prudent) morning runner!  I cannot imagine going up to Town to run in this heat and under these stormy skies. 

Benchmarks

The recovering runner listens carefully to what his body is saying.  And today it was saying, "I ran well this week.  Perhaps I am ready for something big."

My mileage since the half-marathon on April 19 has been a classic model of recovery - slow, careful progression, with a mixture of hills, speed-work, and long runs.  And today I shifted into another gear - a 30-mile week.  I know this sounds obsessive-compulsive, but after all I do record my mileage from my GPS watch and I enter it in my log every day, so it was an easy matter of displaying this good data on an Excel bar chart.  My daughter would be proud!

I could almost feel the sound of the clutch being gently pressed, the RPMs dropping down - Third Gear!  Suddenly it feels as if I am on track for a half-marathon, or perhaps even a marathon.

It was a good morning - a cool breeze blowing continuously, and a visiting runner from St. Louis running with us, a veteran of eight marathons.  It made me start thinking again of the "work of noble note" that Tennyson talked about in his poem Ulysses that I have decided to commit to memory.  What better verses to recite during the final miles of a distance race?

 "There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:

There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,

Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—

That ever with a frolic welcome took

The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed

Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;

Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;

Death closes all: but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: 

The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep 

Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 

'T is not too late to seek a newer world. 

Push off, and sitting well in order smite 

The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds 

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 

Of all the western stars, until I die."

 

 

Staying Cool in June

The temperature this morning was a comfortable 64 degrees, and it should be two or three degrees cooler up in Highlands.  As I was having my coffee out on the deck, enjoying a light breeze, I thought that this was perfect "Chamber of Commerce" weather - exactly what has led people to this corner of the world for the past hundred years.  Afternoon heat will inevitably build up and there is a slight chance of a thunderstorm as always this time of year, but mornings are a paradise for runners!  Tourists flock here from Atlanta and from Birmingham and from other parts of the South where it is hard to stay cool even early in the mornings, and the runners are out these weekend mornings, some of them even joining our group for a mile or two as we call out to them.

I remember complaining about the heat to one of our part-time residents from Atlanta several years ago - I think it may have been in the low 80s at the time - and he said that he had run in 98-degree misery in Atlanta the previous afternoon.  So I never complain about the heat anymore.  And I'm looking forward to our Saturday-morning run this morning.

Even when the temperature creeps up, as it is scheduled to do later this morning, into the 70s.

Big Bearpen Again

It has been three weeks since my last post, but at last I am seeing some improvement in my training.  It seems that the older I become the easier it is to have a "setback" - a check in progress, a step backward.  First I acquired some kind of vague stomach bug the week before last.  And then last week I managed to inexplicably and mysteriously pull something in my lower back.  This despite daily stretching and strengthening that has included, since May 1, a daily regimen of 66 pushups spread out over the day (three sets of 22, usually) in honor and defiance of my age this year.

But last week I had a great run up Big Bearpen, my old friend in adversity, despite a still-stiff back.  And the past two Saturdays I had great, strong, ten- and nine-mile runs.  I even ran some 400-meter intervals last week.  And today I literally stepped up again, running to the summit of Big Bearpen and back down twice, entering with satisfaction in my running log, "Bearpen X 2."  I am not the only one who is crazy about Bearpen.  Derek says he has been running it regularly and is surprised at how much easier it seems every time.  Vicki is a regular, too.  And today Jonathan accompanied me up Chestnut Street and then left me in the dust on his own ascent (my second).  The miracle of hill running is that it builds strength despite everything. 

And so we continue to climb.

Returning Home

We can return home in many senses.  Literally, we returned from the Outer Banks two weeks ago and have been so busy with knee-high grass, gardens to plant, and a remodel project only partially completed that I have not yet had time to post anything on this blog.  Recovery has also been slow, and my runs have been short and uneventful (although I did climb Bearpen my first day back).  My "periformis syndrome" (if that is what it is) is slowly improving as my hamstrings loosen up.  Saturday I went nine miles and everything was turning over pretty well, although my pace was glacial and there were some walking breaks.

Today is the first day of the New Moon, and I am off to an auspicious beginning to the week (or the month, if we are considering moons).  Not only did I recover well from the long run, but this morning I ran up two mountains - Big Bearpen and then Sunset Rocks - something I had not done since last year sometime.  And it felt good.  On the way down the long, winding, gravel road from Sunset - partly to out-run a horsefly that was tormenting me for a quarter-mile - I picked up the pace, literally leaping over potholes and puddles.  I truly felt as if I had turned many corners, and was returning home to good running again.  Recovery is such a wonderful experience for the somewhat disheartened runner.  As in all goals running-related (and most other goals, too, it occurs to me) it is just a matter of patient hard work, and trust in one's inner strength.

And today I also planted this Japanese maple tree (Red Dragon, acer palmatum dissectum), a Mothers Day gift for Martha.  May it grow and flourish, and someday shade out little Folly Patio.

Belated Race Report

It's been almost a month to the day since my last race, and when I signed in to my blog I realized that I had neglected to post the results of the Flying Pirate Half Marathon on April 19, much to the dismay of my many followers who have awaited it breathlessly, no doubt.

From my Writing Journal (which I meant to copy to my blog):  

19 April 2015

Foggy, 53 degrees, calm wind – a strange morning as we awoke at 4:00 a.m. and I looked out at thick, eerie fog diffused in the dune-top deck lights two houses down.  We left the house on time, parked at Walmart, and walked to the Start, arriving only a minute before 7:00.  The first few miles seemed easy; after a fast 9:35 first mile I settled into my planned 10-minute-mile pace and maintained that for five or six miles, but then I began to slow a little more each mile as my right knee and hamstring started to tighten – my old adversaries!  But the crowds were encouraging, gathered in little knots at intersections along the way, and the scenery along the sound was beautiful, thick fog burning off completely, then returning with what felt like a light shower at one point before dissolving into bright sunshine.  I prayed as I usually do, thankful for strong legs and deep breath and a heart of courage and sweet, sweet sight.  And I had my usual fun along the way, laughing and talking to fellow runners and people gathered to watch and cheer.  “Is that my skim-milk latte I called in?” I would ask someone with a cup of coffee.  Or as pretty women called out, “Looking good!” I’d say, “You’re looking pretty good yourself!”  Running a distance race is not the time for drooping spirits.  And I thought about Martha, too, especially at mile 10 when the pavement ended and the uneven terrain of Old Nags Head Woods Road began – late in a half-marathon is not the time for sand, gravel, and potholes – and as we turned at Mile 12.5 and started up the steep single-track path over the dunes, pine needles and leaves . . . and then, surprisingly, there was Martha in front of me!  “What are you doing here?” I asked.  “I slipped by you.  Go on ahead.”  So I passed her on the narrow path and continued up and down over the sand dunes, glancing back over my shoulder once or twice – if she had been gaining, I would have waited so that we could finish that last plummet to the finish line together, but she did not appear, and after the final steep hill at mile 13, we could see the finish line, way down at the bottom of a long mulch-covered sand slope.  My watch at the line said 2:20:13 (final finish time 2:20:05, I discovered later); Martha came across at exactly 2:21:00 – but, of course, she had started in Corral C and I had started in Corral B, so her gun did not go off until two minutes after I had started.  Her final time was 2:18:50, a difference of a minute and 15 seconds.  This was the same outcome three years ago when we ran in the rain and I found she had beaten me by 20 seconds or so, although she had crossed the line behind me.  Except this time she had slipped past me at Mile 8, while I was stopping to get a packet of Gu, and I had not even been aware that she had.  But how good it was to see her charging across that final stretch of sand!  Her face is always bright, bright red, but it holds that same triumphant smile of exhausted exhilaration that we all have:  we have conquered another one!

In a little while, we met up with Katy and David, who had agreed to come to the “Pirate Jamboree” (“Arrr, Matey!) to listen to a great R & B band (all black musicians, including two women with wonderful Aretha Franklin-like voices) and drink some well-deserved beer.  9:45 a.m. is a little earlier than I customarily drink beer – most of our friends were in Sunday School, after all – but who can pass up Shocktop Belgian White after a half-marathon?  While my hamstrings were as tight as piano strings and my quads were shredded, Martha had a very sore toe that sent me in search of a band-aid back at the medical tent.

As for the rest of the day, we made our way back, showered, took naps, and (in my case) shook off the final effects of the marginal food poisoning from the day before.  And I pondered once again on being beaten in a race – it is a race, after all – by Martha.  I know that I will not hear the end of it from one or two members in our running club.  And I could toss out any number of excuses for not running as well as I had hoped:  inadequate training, bad food, pollen so thick that the puddles along the way were ringed in bright yellow.  But there are no excuses; we ran on a level playing field, and the fact of the matter was that these tired old legs just began to give out in the last miles, and Martha’s younger and faster legs did not.  My self-esteem is not in question.  On the contrary, I am proud of her for running such a good race.

And now:  it is a time for celebration.  Dinner at the Red Sky Café, good Pinot Grigio to drink, and the rest of our vacation stretching out before us.

Course Preview

Today we previewed the Half Marathon course, driving all the way from Kitty Hawk Woods Road down to Old Nags Head Woods Road, the unpaved end of the course from from Mile 10 to Mile 12.5:

It is pocked with potholes and, more of a concern, patched in places with rough gravel which will provide difficult to maneuver.  

Then we parked and walked the final half-mile over the sand dunes on the mulch path, and the final dizzying descent down off that big dune into the parking lot of the YMCA.  We could not decide whether it was a help to remember this part of the course, which I have run now six times including the full marathons, or merely intimidating.  But I think in retrospect it will prove a help.  It is always good to be reminded of the challenges which lie ahead.

Final Countdown

We have been here for a little over a week, and this week is the "final countdown" to the half marathon, which I am realizing increasingly as I think about it that I want to run really, really well.  After all, I spent some cold days in Highlands this winter preparing for this, even though it was weeks and months away.  Goals are still important to me as a runner, and I will be thinking about those cold days this winter - like the time I stopped midway through my run in the Highland Hiker on that windy, snowy day to buy (on credit) a balaclava, and the day when I cut short an especially snowy run because the roads were simply getting to slippery.

Meanwhile, the amazing Dave Cockman seems to be in Raleigh this morning according to his live tracking link:

Only 200 or so miles to go, Dave!  13.1 miles on Sunday will seem like nothing considering how far this man has run.

Shaking Off Stiff Legs

Here we are at the Outer Banks, preparing to run the Flying Pirate Half Marathon on April 19.  My ten-mile run on Friday went well; although I had originally intended to go 12 miles, my legs felt plenty fatigued after only 10 miles.  But it was that good fatigue, all the stiffness done, all the little aches and pains and "niggles" - even the tight hamstring and that vaguely-documented ghost in the background called "piriformis syndrome" appearing to dissolve over the long miles.

This morning, after traveling 550 miles with my legs pretty much locked into a single position, and taking only a few breaks along the way, I feel like an old man, sore all over, my knees and my hips aching in places they do not ache when I run.  This is an understanding that comes time and time again to the distance runner:  activity is good for us, inactivity is just the opposite.  We are designed to be in motion, to be covering ground, to be moving and living and breathing.  Such a simple concept!  But it is a lesson forgotten by so many former athletes who have slid down the slippery slope from mere paunchiness to obesity, or those many men and women who do not even know what it is like to be strong and flexible - the young men and women we saw when we stopped along the road who looked as if they had never done any type of physical activity at all.  What a waste!

This morning I know that after running a few miles, the stiffness will slide away behind me.  Thank God for this wonderful gift of running and fitness.

Dave Cockman: Running Across the State of North Carolina in 12 Days

This week, I sent this e-mail to local members of the Highlands Roadrunners Club:

"Some of you may have heard about Dave Cockman from Mayor Taylor in the past day or two.  Dave lives in Cary, NC, and he contacted us both several weeks ago about an incredible running feat he is about to undertake – running across the entire state of North Carolina in 12 days.  He will be starting at the Tennessee border just west of Murphy on April 4, and he will be finishing at Jennette’s Pier in Nags Head, averaging 50 miles per day.  He is doing this as a fundraiser for wounded veterans.

Dave has a website you will want to check out that gives all of the details of his run:  http://murphytomanteo.org/run-across-north-carolina.  The website has a live tracking link so you can track his progress as he makes this epic journey. 

Dave will be leaving Hayesville on Sunday morning, coming through Franklin and on up the Gorge Road and into Highlands on Sunday, April 5, at about 6:00 p.m., and Mayor Taylor will be planning on meeting him at the parking area next to the Lake Sequoyah Dam.  Dave will be running alone, carrying everything he needs with him, and running about 12-minute miles.  Everyone who would like to meet Dave and run with him should check the live tracking link – the plan is to meet at Town Hall about 30 minutes before his estimated arrival.  Runners can carpool to the Sequoyah Dam and wait for him to arrive.  The Highlands Police Department will provide an escort into Town.  The Mayor has arranged for complimentary accommodations at OEI – it is really generous of them to do this on the busy Easter weekend.  He will then proceed to the Ugly Dog for dinner.  Everyone is invited and encouraged to dine with him (Dutch treat).  He will share with those present how they can donate to the Intrepid Fallen Warrior Fund.

On Monday morning Dave will meet the Mayor at Town Hall at around 8:30 a.m. as he begins the next leg of his journey, so this is a good opportunity to meet him and run with him if you can’t make it on Sunday evening.  The Mayor says there will be a signing of a proclamation in support of his run for wounded warriors, and after the signing he will run with him to the town limits as he continues on to Brevard.  The Mayor says that a car will be available at the town limits for the return to town hall, but he adds that "real runners will simply turn around and run back."  For those who don’t know, by the way:  Dave Cockman is a “real runner.”  Dave contacted me earlier this week and told me, “My training has gone well and I have completed two marathons and two 50-mile races in the past couple of weeks in preparation.  My legs are feeling strong and I feel now that I will be able to cover the entire distance in a little over 12 days.”

You can reach the Mayor at 828-506-3138 for more information.  As it happens, I will not be here to meet Dave because Martha and I are headed to the Outer Banks to run the Flying Pirate Half Marathon on April 19.  I told Dave we would plan to meet him when he arrives in Nags Head at Jennette’s Pier on April 15 or 16.  When I told him this, he said he was planning on running the half marathon, too – three days after running a 600-mile warm-up.  My plan is to locate Dave at the race, stay right behind him, and hopefully stay with him for as long as I can, probably about a half-mile.

Please don’t miss this opportunity to meet an incredible runner who is also running for a great cause.  Tell your running friends and your veteran friends about him, and give him a good Highlands welcome from our running club and entire community."

That is indeed an amazing and inspirational feat, and I am looking forward to meeting Dave in Nags Head and running the Flying Pirate with him!

 Dave Cockman

 

Remodeling

We are in the midst of remodeling out kitchen, bathroom, and laundry room, which explains why this blog has not been as regular as it has been n the past.  Long hours of hard work result in tired backs and sore muscles, but also in weight loss - good cross-training.

As part of the project, we removed all of our cabinets, and at one point there was absolutely nothing in the kitchen except the upper cabinets.  Now we are putting it all back again.  It occurs to me that this is similar to physical training, both weight training and running:  we tear ourselves down, and then we build back strength again.  We can remodel more than our kitchens if we are willing to do the work.

Oskar Blues Brewery 4-Miler

From next month's newsletter:

Your humble editor and his wife drove to Brevard in light but steadily diminishing rain on a mild Saturday morning.  Arriving at the Brewery (great venue for any road race), it was still raining, but literally as soon as we signed the race day entry forms, the rain stopped, and by the end of the race the sun was shining.  It just goes to show:  if runners merely show up and persevere, conditions often improve dramatically.  Or worsen dramatically.  We saw Miguel Rosas at the finish line; Miguel just started running with us last week and ran a good race.  This is a well-organized race on a relatively flat course at an easy-going time of day (11:00 a.m.), and we will put it on our personal race calendars for next year.  It’s a good time of year to knock out the cobwebs after a winter of low mileage and spotty consistency.  And after all, it’s the Lenten season, a time for humility and repentance, and it is always humbling to get beaten by a nine-year-old and three eight-year-olds, as this extremely humble editor soundly was.  On the other hand, it was the first 4-miler I had ever run, and thus I set a new PR, as did Martha.  Not something we do very often these days.

That Winter Five Pounds

There is not a runner in our running group who has not gained at least five pounds over the winter, and most of us are a little worried about it.  Will this little bulge above the belt stay with me from now on?  That age-old, tested formula comes to mind:  two seconds per mile per pound.  That is the amount of time over distance one can expect to gain by losing weight (or lose by gaining weight), down to the optimum weight, below which diminishing returns can be expected.   You can do the math yourself - that is a huge amount of time whether you are running a 5-K or a marathon.  Even the current issue of Runner's World which came yesterday is called the "Weight Loss Issue," and features an article optimistically entitled "Run Your Way Lean."  On the cover is a woman having absolutely no fat and displaying very well-developed abs.

I am not worried.  I have been a runner for a long time, after all, and I know that I can gain an extraordinary amount of weight, especially when that December post-marathon binging segues smoothly into the Christmas holidays.  And it all starts to melt like a lump of butter on a hot griddle when serious training begins, like double-digit-miles and hill training.  

Christopher Robin nodded. 'Then there's only one thing to be done,' he said. 'We shall have to wait for you to get thin again.' 'How long does getting thin take?' asked Pooh anxiously. 'About a week I should think.' 

Well, a bit longer than that.

March Running

It's that most changeable of all months, and whether or not I believe that old saying about the Lion and the Lamb, it is true that both of these creatures are likely to visit at the most unexpected times.  So Saturday the temperatures soared into the 50s and we had a good morning turnout of our running group, enjoying the sunshine and the mild (i.e. lamb-like) conditions, nary a pair of tights to be seen and only a few pairs of gloves.

Nine miles!  My running log tells me that this is the longest I have run so far this year, and that is a nice feeling.  Our half marathon is only six weeks away now, and it seems as it does every Spring in Highlands that my training is behind.

This little fellow was sighted Sunday on a hike to Anna Ruby Falls (and ours are almost blooming) blowing that trumpet that heralds Spring.  Spring and warm running, fragrant breezes - surely the most blessed time of year to be a runner.

Snowbound

There will be no running today.  We are SNOWBOUND:  what a wonderful word!  John Greenleaf Whittier's well-known poem resided somewhere on by father's bookshelves when I was growing up in Connecticut, and I remember pulling it from its dusty shelf to read on long snowy days.  Whittier began his poem with this little verse from Emerson:

"Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,

Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,

Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air

Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,

And veils the farm-house at the garden's end.

The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet

Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit

Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed

In a tumultuous privacy of Storm." 

What a lovely picture those verses paint.  We sat at our little bistro table last night lingering over dinner and watching the falling snow through the screened window as it piled up on our deck:

This morning we awoke to about eight inches of snow.  I have never lost my love for the magical transformation that snow brings to the most ordinary of objects:  the white gnome cap on St. Francis, the birdhouses snowbound, too.  So before I shoveled the sidewalk and driveway - the adult excuse for "going outside to play in the snow" - I walked around marveling at the changed world of our little kingdom behind the fences.

Our little tabby Coffee does not like the snow.  She walked only on the rock walk and driveway that I had shoveled, and when she stepped on a little bit of snow she would stop and shake it off her paw as vigorously as she could.  But I was enjoying myself so much that I shoveled far more than I needed, remembering my childhood in Connecticut and the epic storms (or so it seemed at the time) that stopped everything in their tracks including Highway 5 to New Haven.  My brother and I, budding entrepreneurs, would venture out with our snow shovels and make good money (by 1960s standards) offering to shovel driveways in the neighborhood.  The air so quiet!- Emerson's "tumultuous privacy of snow."  I seemed to be living in the middle of a Japanese woodblock prints by Hasui: