St. Andrews State Park: would I be able to get in without paying the entrance fee? It's 06:00 AM; maybe there won't be anyone attending the gate. Would I be able to get around the park circle road? Find a bathroom? These and many other questions went through my head as I emerge from my hotel in Panama City Beach, run four miles down Thomas Road, and approach the park itself. Of course, the answers are: yes, yes (there wasn't), yes and yes.
It's just beginning to get light as I enter the park and run around for a few miles. I appear to be the only person in the entire park, but that's not entirely true; there's a camping area down one of the park roads. Still, it's pretty eerie. I run down one of the boardwalks to get a peek at the ocean. It's eerie too. But even despite the gloom, I can make out the pure white sand dunes surrounding the entire area.
Now, there's just one remaining question: can I pick up the pace for the trip home? The answer is, once again, yes. But traffic is picking up as well. I keep to the sidewalks as I complete the round trip on Thomas.
I'm back. That was fairly exhausting. And yet it took me all of two hours and ten minutes. That's a long time for twelve miles. I do a couple more miles for penance.
Now it's day two. Same loop. In fact, everything is about the same. This time it gets done in two hours, five minutes. Okay, that's a little better. I still do a couple more miles as penance.
Day three. Same loop. In fact, everything is about the same, except for one thing. This time, we will be leaving; I only have two hours and no more. Can I do that? I guess that's yet another question. And yes, I can, and I do. Each four-mile split is a little better. The result? One hour, fifty-eight minutes.
No penance is necessary; I don't run any further.
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Saturday, February 10, 2018
Doin' my Motor Good
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
You done started doin' the things you used to do
As I was motorvatin' over the hill
I saw Maybellene in a Coupe de Ville
A Cadillac a-rollin' on the open road
Nothin' will outrun my V8 Ford
The Cadillac doin' about ninety-five
She's bumper to bumper, rollin' side by side
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
You done started back doin' the things you used to do
The Cadillac pulled up to a hundred and four
The Ford got hot and wouldn't do no more
It then got cloudy and started to rain
I tooted my horn for the passin' lane
The rainwater blowin' all under my hood
I know that I was doin' my motor good
~Maybelline, by Chuck Berry
Them be some of my favorite lyrics, and I don't even know why; I just like them. But why, you ask, do they appear in your running blog, Mr. Dan? The reasons are many:
1) The pace of the song is good for running cadence. In fact, it was going through this head of mine during a run a couple days ago.
2) Several of the lines (think: motorvatin' over the hill) can be repurposed into some kind of running context.
3) I like to think that maybe by struggling through the snow and ice during these wintery runs, I really may be doin' my motor good.
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
You done started back doin' the things you used to do
The motor cooled down, the heat went down
And that's when I heard that highway sound
The Cadillac a-sittin' like a ton of lead
A hundred and ten half a mile ahead
The Cadillac lookin' like it's sittin' still
And I caught Mabellene at the top of the hill
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
Oh Maybellene, why can't you be true?
You done started back doin' the things you used to do
Thursday, February 01, 2018
Get Ready to Run
First, you wake up. It’s pretty tough to run if you haven’t done this, although it’s not entirely impossible. You like to get out of bed between 3:30 and 4:00 AM.
After about eight or nine stumbling steps from the bedroom into the kitchen, you turn on the coffee machine. You hope to heaven that you prepared it all the night before. You are aware that you could save the four minutes it takes to brew two large cups if you would set the timer on the machine to have it already brewed when you wake up. But said timer never seems to work correctly for you, and you’ve given up on it. It’s probably a user error.
While you are waiting for the brewing to occur, you check the weather in one, two, or all three of three ways: you check the weather app on the computer, you turn on the TV to watch the morning weather guy, even though you probably need to wait until 4:00 AM for this, or you look outside.
You think about what you will wear for your run while you are preparing your coffee. It’s black on fast days; it’s light with honey on non-fast days. You need it badly, so you drink it fast. When it’s light, it tastes pretty good. When it’s black, not so much. Doesn’t matter though; you’re not doing this for the taste.
While you’re drinking your coffee, you spend some more time on the computer or watching the early morning news. YOU SHOULD NEVER DO THESE THINGS! YOU SHOULD SIMPLY BEGIN GETTING READY TO GO OUT. You may also do some push-ups in front of the TV. Okay, this is a good thing.
Now, after the coffee has had its exact desired effect, it’s time to dress. You start with the undies. You know: the kind with the extra padding in the front. This is for safety reasons; any manly bulging is a side-effect. Depending on the temperature and wind chill, you may add extra pairs of these undies.
On to shorts or tights. 30 degrees Fahrenheit is about the dividing line, although the wind and precipitation are also factors. Much below 30, and it’s tights. At or above 30, and it’s shorts.
The jacket/shirt divide somewhere around 45 to 50 degrees. Once again, the wind and precipitation also factor in. If it is indeed jacket weather, a shirt will always go on underneath. If it’s really cold, make that two shirts. Some of your jackets are reflective, and at least two are bright neon/yellow. You have lots of jackets and shirts.
The weather also determines any hats and gloves you choose. You have lots, but none of the gloves seem all that great when it’s really cold out.
Now it’s time to light things up. The first thing to go on is the Noxgear vest/apparatus. It’s a complicated thingie that flashes in all sorts of colors. It fits all around your chest and back. You have to reach in back to turn it on and off and to make it flash or change color. The whole thing is a little ridiculous, and you still have mixed feelings about it. Attached to the front of the apparatus is a little reflective light that flashes red. You figure it adds just a wee bit more light to the thing. Then you put on the headlamp. It goes over the hat if you have one. It’s pretty bright, but only when the batteries are fresh, which they usually aren’t. Your final light is this blue flashing heel wrap-around thing that a friend got at Marc’s for ninety-nine cents. It’s supposed to fit around the back of the heel of the shoe, but you’ve lost it (and then went back to find it again) twice when it’s fallen off. You now wear it around your ankle above the top of the shoe, but still over the sock. That makes it too tight. Later during the run, You’ll often switch it to your wrist. But then that will hurt too.
You are almost ready. It’s time for the shoes. You’ve already selected a pair from the four or five active ones you have got going. But before you begin getting them on (and after the socks are in place), you put on your Road ID. It has your name and contact information, in case you are found in a ditch on the side of the road, and they want to know who you were when you were alive. The loving wife makes you do this. The problem is that the darn thing is nearly unusable. The clasp is too difficult to work with, so you often try to stretch it over your foot. This is difficult because it doesn’t stretch enough and sometimes breaks away at the clasp. You’ve also tried putting it over your hand and wearing it on your wrist, but you once nearly lost it by doing this. Note that the Road ID people were sympathetic and refunded your money when you complained. They didn’t want it back, so you still try to use it.
You are now 100% ready. You go out the garage man-door and start your GPS watch. You wait for it to find its satellites (only a few seconds) and begin to run.
How does that go, you ask? Not bad, but that’s a different story.
After about eight or nine stumbling steps from the bedroom into the kitchen, you turn on the coffee machine. You hope to heaven that you prepared it all the night before. You are aware that you could save the four minutes it takes to brew two large cups if you would set the timer on the machine to have it already brewed when you wake up. But said timer never seems to work correctly for you, and you’ve given up on it. It’s probably a user error.
While you are waiting for the brewing to occur, you check the weather in one, two, or all three of three ways: you check the weather app on the computer, you turn on the TV to watch the morning weather guy, even though you probably need to wait until 4:00 AM for this, or you look outside.
You think about what you will wear for your run while you are preparing your coffee. It’s black on fast days; it’s light with honey on non-fast days. You need it badly, so you drink it fast. When it’s light, it tastes pretty good. When it’s black, not so much. Doesn’t matter though; you’re not doing this for the taste.
While you’re drinking your coffee, you spend some more time on the computer or watching the early morning news. YOU SHOULD NEVER DO THESE THINGS! YOU SHOULD SIMPLY BEGIN GETTING READY TO GO OUT. You may also do some push-ups in front of the TV. Okay, this is a good thing.
Now, after the coffee has had its exact desired effect, it’s time to dress. You start with the undies. You know: the kind with the extra padding in the front. This is for safety reasons; any manly bulging is a side-effect. Depending on the temperature and wind chill, you may add extra pairs of these undies.
On to shorts or tights. 30 degrees Fahrenheit is about the dividing line, although the wind and precipitation are also factors. Much below 30, and it’s tights. At or above 30, and it’s shorts.
The jacket/shirt divide somewhere around 45 to 50 degrees. Once again, the wind and precipitation also factor in. If it is indeed jacket weather, a shirt will always go on underneath. If it’s really cold, make that two shirts. Some of your jackets are reflective, and at least two are bright neon/yellow. You have lots of jackets and shirts.
The weather also determines any hats and gloves you choose. You have lots, but none of the gloves seem all that great when it’s really cold out.
Now it’s time to light things up. The first thing to go on is the Noxgear vest/apparatus. It’s a complicated thingie that flashes in all sorts of colors. It fits all around your chest and back. You have to reach in back to turn it on and off and to make it flash or change color. The whole thing is a little ridiculous, and you still have mixed feelings about it. Attached to the front of the apparatus is a little reflective light that flashes red. You figure it adds just a wee bit more light to the thing. Then you put on the headlamp. It goes over the hat if you have one. It’s pretty bright, but only when the batteries are fresh, which they usually aren’t. Your final light is this blue flashing heel wrap-around thing that a friend got at Marc’s for ninety-nine cents. It’s supposed to fit around the back of the heel of the shoe, but you’ve lost it (and then went back to find it again) twice when it’s fallen off. You now wear it around your ankle above the top of the shoe, but still over the sock. That makes it too tight. Later during the run, You’ll often switch it to your wrist. But then that will hurt too.
You are almost ready. It’s time for the shoes. You’ve already selected a pair from the four or five active ones you have got going. But before you begin getting them on (and after the socks are in place), you put on your Road ID. It has your name and contact information, in case you are found in a ditch on the side of the road, and they want to know who you were when you were alive. The loving wife makes you do this. The problem is that the darn thing is nearly unusable. The clasp is too difficult to work with, so you often try to stretch it over your foot. This is difficult because it doesn’t stretch enough and sometimes breaks away at the clasp. You’ve also tried putting it over your hand and wearing it on your wrist, but you once nearly lost it by doing this. Note that the Road ID people were sympathetic and refunded your money when you complained. They didn’t want it back, so you still try to use it.
You are now 100% ready. You go out the garage man-door and start your GPS watch. You wait for it to find its satellites (only a few seconds) and begin to run.
How does that go, you ask? Not bad, but that’s a different story.
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