I've Lost 2 Minutes per Mile and Don't Know Where to Find Them

Before it was one minute a mile. Now two. Where did they go?

TRACK!!!!!!!!!!

The thought occurred to me as I hit it the other day. It was my first time on the track for many months. In my (much) younger days, when doing track workouts, we would yell 'TRACK!' at anyone moving slower than us that were in our way. Do track runners still do this?

I love the track. I love speedwork. But with injuries and all, speedwork doesn't love me.

Nowadays, if I can do my mile intervals in under eight minutes, I'm a happy man. In the olde days, six minutes was good. I could whine some more, but I will spare you.

The good news is that, in spite of the non-cessation of the Achilles pain, I'm running more, and even slightly better. I should. I've got marathons to train for.

Free the Hinckley Nine!

This is another one that required an explanation. I will get to that.

The usual gang, Debbie, Theresa, Frank, Dennis and I, complete our 9-mile circuit. There are other runners, some of whom I know, hanging around in the parking lot. We chat a bit. Suddenly dozens of others come running into the lot; they had just gone around the lake. Presently, more running for everyone but a few of us, would ensue.

My thinking, such as it is, is this: wow - lots of runners. Cool!

Why do I think that a lot of runners, as opposed to just a few, is such a cool thing? I have no idea. I'm actually happy to run with anyone, be that a few or a lot. I've been posting these Hinckley runs as Facebook events lately, but it's nearly always the same usual suspects that make it each week. I'm okay with that, since this bunch I go with are fine people. But bigger crowds are fun as well.

Tomorrow's run should involve a bigger crowd. It's the monthly Medina Half-Marathon training run, and the weather is looking fantastic. In fact it was today as well. One of today's runner's said, "it doesn't get any better than this," and I agree wholeheartedly.

The Hinckley Nine? Well, that's the name of our usual road loop. But it also sounded to me like some kind of notorious group of people. Maybe outlaws or terrorists. Or maybe people who are more innocent, but are being unjustly persecuted. In the event that you can think about the name in terms of people instead of miles, freeing them would seem like a good idea.

The Old Bull and the Young Bull

When you have to announce that a joke is completed, that’s a sign that either it’s not funny, or you didn’t tell it right. I think it was the latter this morning, as my running-rattled brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Theresa Stephens Wright, Debbie Scheel, Dennis (don’t know his last name) and Frank Dwyer had actually asked for a story. Here it is, (told perhaps a little better).

An old bull and a young bull were in a pasture, looking down at a lower pasture filled with comely heifers. The young bull says, ‘Hey old bull, the farmer left the gate between the pastures open! Let’s run down to those cows and smooch a couple of them!’ The old bull says, ‘Nope. Let’s saunter on down there slowly, and smooch the whole lot of them.’ Author’s note: verbs other than ‘smooch’ may be substituted here.

Running friends from a couple generations ago used to have some fun with that one. I'm thinking of old bull Brian Peacock, and young bull Geoff Chase. Being between those two in age, I'm not sure what role I took on. Maybe one of the heifers?

I would also like to say that my Achilles pain is subsiding a little, and that has enabled me to pick up the pace and mileage ever so slightly. I would also like to say that I am very rich and famous, and that I get younger each year.

The pain had actually been a little more manageable, and I really have been running a little faster and farther... until today's sixteen-miler. Now it's back to normal. And that's not so good. You would think that I ought to ease up a little. You know: take it easy.

But no. I am committed. Or need to be. At the Medina County Road Runners Club Banquet a couple weeks ago, I won a free entry to the Medina Half Marathon, and registered immediately. Last week I learned that a friend wanted to sell her entry to the Canton Hall of Fame Marathon - for only $20! I jumped at it and got myself registered for that one as well. Then, with all that money I saved, I splurged and paid a high price ($105 plus fee) to register for the fortieth Cleveland Marathon. Yeah, fortieth. I had run the first, in 1978.

So I guess I can't stop now. You would think an old bull would know better.