Great weather. Feeling good despite some usual aches and pains. Running well.
You can see where this is going: two out of three ain't bad.
It's five to five, 59 degrees, and Orion is rising, as I emerge from the car. That cool air feels fabulous. I start slowly, as I always do, but I don't feel too bad. Yes, the aches are there, but the Achilles and other pains aren't debilitating. And as I head over and into the park, I feel as though I'm actually picking up some speed.
It's pitch dark in the woods, of course. I don't know how I ever did this without a headlamp. As I head down the hill towards Foster's Run, I speed up even more. I'm really moving now.
Two miles in, I glance at my watch. Reality sets in. I'm not running seven or eight minutes a mile, even though it feels as though I am. I'm doing eleven minutes a mile, even on this downhill stretch. My bubble is busted.
It's getting light as I finish up. Of course it is; it took such a very long time to run so far. About like it does every other day. Even so, I still enjoy today's run, because those two good things are very good.
Thursday, August 23, 2018
Saturday, August 18, 2018
I Sweat, Therefore I
am soaked, am disgusting, will continue to sweat even after my shower and even after I've arrived at work, am a bunch of other things, none of which are good.
The vast, and I do mean vast, majority of days this summer have been oppressively humid. One could probably count on one hand the days that were not. And there's no end in sight.
But I don't like humidity, I say. Perhaps this is a little like not liking spam.
Scene: A cafe. One table is occupied by a group of Vikings with horned helmets on. A man and his wife enter.
Man (Eric Idle): You sit here, dear.
Wife (Graham Chapman in drag): All right.
Man (to Waitress): Morning!
Waitress (Terry Jones, in drag as a bit of a rat-bag): Morning!
Man: Well, what've you got?
Waitress: Well, there's egg and bacon; egg sausage and bacon; egg and spam; egg bacon and spam; egg bacon sausage and spam; spam bacon sausage and spam; spam egg spam spam bacon and spam; spam sausage spam spam bacon spam tomato and spam;
Vikings (starting to chant): Spam spam spam spam...
Waitress: ...spam spam spam egg and spam; spam spam spam spam spam spam baked beans spam spam spam...
Vikings (singing): Spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam!
Waitress: ...or Lobster Thermidor au Crevette with a Mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam.
Wife: Have you got anything without spam?
Waitress: Well, there's spam egg sausage and spam, that's not got much spam in it.
Wife: I don't want ANY spam!
Man: Why can't she have egg bacon spam and sausage?
Wife: THAT'S got spam in it!
Man: Hasn't got as much spam in it as spam egg sausage and spam, has it?
Vikings: Spam spam spam spam (crescendo through next few lines)
Wife: Could you do the egg bacon spam and sausage without the spam then?
Waitress: Urgghh!
Wife: What do you mean 'Urgghh'? I don't like spam!
Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up!
Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up! (Vikings stop) Bloody Vikings! You can't have egg bacon spam and sausage without the spam.
Wife (shrieks): I don't like spam!
Man: Sshh, dear, don't cause a fuss. I'll have your spam. I love it. I'm having spam spam spam spam spam spam spam beaked beans spam spam spam and spam!
Vikings (singing): Spam spam spam spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up!! Baked beans are off.
Man: Well could I have her spam instead of the baked beans then?
Waitress: You mean spam spam spam spam spam spam... (but it is too late and the Vikings drown her words)
Vikings (singing elaborately): Spam spam spam spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spam! Spam spa-a-a-a-a-am spam spa-a-a-a-a-am spam. Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Spam spam spam spam!
~
But back to the humility. It's bad. Really bad. And to go along with that is the heat. I am aware that things could be even worse, as most days are in the eighties. The days in the nineties came earlier in the summer. Nowadays, nearly every day is just a little above the average for this time of year.
Reminds me of how all our children are above average.
All this makes for not so good running. I'm getting out there, mind you. Just not well. Maybe tomorrow, being Hinckley Day, will be better. We can only hope.
"Welcome to Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average."
The vast, and I do mean vast, majority of days this summer have been oppressively humid. One could probably count on one hand the days that were not. And there's no end in sight.
But I don't like humidity, I say. Perhaps this is a little like not liking spam.
Scene: A cafe. One table is occupied by a group of Vikings with horned helmets on. A man and his wife enter.
Man (Eric Idle): You sit here, dear.
Wife (Graham Chapman in drag): All right.
Man (to Waitress): Morning!
Waitress (Terry Jones, in drag as a bit of a rat-bag): Morning!
Man: Well, what've you got?
Waitress: Well, there's egg and bacon; egg sausage and bacon; egg and spam; egg bacon and spam; egg bacon sausage and spam; spam bacon sausage and spam; spam egg spam spam bacon and spam; spam sausage spam spam bacon spam tomato and spam;
Vikings (starting to chant): Spam spam spam spam...
Waitress: ...spam spam spam egg and spam; spam spam spam spam spam spam baked beans spam spam spam...
Vikings (singing): Spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam!
Waitress: ...or Lobster Thermidor au Crevette with a Mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam.
Wife: Have you got anything without spam?
Waitress: Well, there's spam egg sausage and spam, that's not got much spam in it.
Wife: I don't want ANY spam!
Man: Why can't she have egg bacon spam and sausage?
Wife: THAT'S got spam in it!
Man: Hasn't got as much spam in it as spam egg sausage and spam, has it?
Vikings: Spam spam spam spam (crescendo through next few lines)
Wife: Could you do the egg bacon spam and sausage without the spam then?
Waitress: Urgghh!
Wife: What do you mean 'Urgghh'? I don't like spam!
Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up!
Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up! (Vikings stop) Bloody Vikings! You can't have egg bacon spam and sausage without the spam.
Wife (shrieks): I don't like spam!
Man: Sshh, dear, don't cause a fuss. I'll have your spam. I love it. I'm having spam spam spam spam spam spam spam beaked beans spam spam spam and spam!
Vikings (singing): Spam spam spam spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up!! Baked beans are off.
Man: Well could I have her spam instead of the baked beans then?
Waitress: You mean spam spam spam spam spam spam... (but it is too late and the Vikings drown her words)
Vikings (singing elaborately): Spam spam spam spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spam! Spam spa-a-a-a-a-am spam spa-a-a-a-a-am spam. Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Spam spam spam spam!
~
But back to the humility. It's bad. Really bad. And to go along with that is the heat. I am aware that things could be even worse, as most days are in the eighties. The days in the nineties came earlier in the summer. Nowadays, nearly every day is just a little above the average for this time of year.
Reminds me of how all our children are above average.
All this makes for not so good running. I'm getting out there, mind you. Just not well. Maybe tomorrow, being Hinckley Day, will be better. We can only hope.
"Welcome to Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average."
Monday, August 13, 2018
The Perseid
We speak about the Perseids as the meteors seen in the skies this time each year. Note the plurality. There was none of that today, but one is still better than none.
For the first time in decades, I did manage to get out the door before four. Perhaps it was related, but this wound but being an adventure in sleep-running.
To see meteors, one has to look up. Looking up is not conducive to good, or even half-way decent running. So that, combined with the extreme un-wakefulness were both working against me. But dad-gum it, I wanted to see those Perseids.
Shuffling along on Substation Road - the darkest area I could get to - I wasn't having any luck, so I started trying to spot Orion. This was also problematic because by 4:30 AM, it was only beginning to consider rising. That's when the sky lit up (well, a little) with a meteor. They always appear when you're not looking for them. It was pretty cool.
After further shuffling, I did finally see Orion. And then I saw, coming toward me, an extremely bright truck of some sort. There were green, red and yellow lights flashing in all sorts of ways. I suppose it was an ambulance, but it may have been another type of emergency vehicle or an alien land cruising car (the aliens would have emerged from the meteorite, I'm sure). It was hard to tell.
There were no more meteors, and no more wakefulness.
For the first time in decades, I did manage to get out the door before four. Perhaps it was related, but this wound but being an adventure in sleep-running.
To see meteors, one has to look up. Looking up is not conducive to good, or even half-way decent running. So that, combined with the extreme un-wakefulness were both working against me. But dad-gum it, I wanted to see those Perseids.
Shuffling along on Substation Road - the darkest area I could get to - I wasn't having any luck, so I started trying to spot Orion. This was also problematic because by 4:30 AM, it was only beginning to consider rising. That's when the sky lit up (well, a little) with a meteor. They always appear when you're not looking for them. It was pretty cool.
After further shuffling, I did finally see Orion. And then I saw, coming toward me, an extremely bright truck of some sort. There were green, red and yellow lights flashing in all sorts of ways. I suppose it was an ambulance, but it may have been another type of emergency vehicle or an alien land cruising car (the aliens would have emerged from the meteorite, I'm sure). It was hard to tell.
There were no more meteors, and no more wakefulness.
Sunday, August 12, 2018
Orion Rise, 2018
I saw my very first of the season rise of the constellation Orion today. It signals that summer is on its way out, and that autumn is fast approaching. This is all good news for someone of my temperament.
This was my second run in Hocking Hills, and it was a cool one. That's appropriate, since fall is now officially (at least in my book) on its way. Cool, crisp and clear: that's the way I like it. Can't wait for more of it. Bring it on.
This was my second run in Hocking Hills, and it was a cool one. That's appropriate, since fall is now officially (at least in my book) on its way. Cool, crisp and clear: that's the way I like it. Can't wait for more of it. Bring it on.
Sights and Sounds
I am getting a later than planned start. It's 5:20, and although I've been up for quite a while, this is the best I could do to get myself out the cabin door and into the gloomy morning air.
Said cabin is located in Sugar Grove, Ohio. It's in the Hocking Hills region, and we're staying for the weekend with the Dancer family. These digs are pretty nifty.
Gloomy it is - more so than anticipated. I had planned the route: 3 or more 3.7-mile loops on Sponagle, Swartz Mill, Mirgon and Sugar Grove Roads to make twelve or so miles total. I had figured there would be hills, humidity, humility, and darkness, but not quite so much. And I also hadn't anticipated the fog and drizzle. And did I mention the darkness? Oh, yes, perhaps I did.
First, I have to get up the driveway. I do mean up; it's mighty steep. Now on the road, things do level out. A little. I am bumping into plenty of hills. They pretty much won't stop. Eventually, I find myself running mostly down - way down - to get to Swartz Mill Road a mile into the run.
Good thing I have the headlamp because I can't see a darn thing otherwise. The woods are deep and dark, and the fog and mist reflect my headlamp light right back at me. I do notice the occasional light emanating from a smattering of houses that are back in the woods.
At first, it's so very quiet that even that unnerves me. I do get used to it, but soon the morning crickets begin to chirp. Now it's downright noisy. But in a pleasant sort of way.
All of a sudden, something fairly large flies right across my path, directly in front of my headlamp. It startles me, and I stop. It was completely quiet as it flew by. Then another one follows it within a second or two. I look around for others but don't see any. That don't mean anything; I can't see anything anyway. As my faculties return, I begin to wonder whether they were rather small owls or large bats. I am not able to figure it out, but I'm leaning towards the bat theory.
A couple of the houses come with a barking dog. I am not threatened directly, but I do pick up a stick for self-defense, just in case.
The roads and turns are where I expect them to be. The hills are not, since I hadn't known where they would be. Suffice it to say that they're big. Big enough to put Effie to shame. Effie, by the way, is still the standard by which all hills are measured. I manage to complete one loop. I am 3.7 miles into the run, just as anticipated. I try not to look at the related time.
The second loop is better. It's getting light, and I can now begin to see where I went that first time around. The fog is becoming more patchy. And I'm moving a little faster as well. But only a little.
The third loop is faster still. Still agonizingly slow by any normal standards, but faster than the other two loops.
About two and a half miles into that final circuit, it hits me. I love this! I truly do. It's why I run.
Minor runner's high subsiding, I am back in time to start the day with the kids and grandkids. Time to hike.
Said cabin is located in Sugar Grove, Ohio. It's in the Hocking Hills region, and we're staying for the weekend with the Dancer family. These digs are pretty nifty.
Gloomy it is - more so than anticipated. I had planned the route: 3 or more 3.7-mile loops on Sponagle, Swartz Mill, Mirgon and Sugar Grove Roads to make twelve or so miles total. I had figured there would be hills, humidity, humility, and darkness, but not quite so much. And I also hadn't anticipated the fog and drizzle. And did I mention the darkness? Oh, yes, perhaps I did.
First, I have to get up the driveway. I do mean up; it's mighty steep. Now on the road, things do level out. A little. I am bumping into plenty of hills. They pretty much won't stop. Eventually, I find myself running mostly down - way down - to get to Swartz Mill Road a mile into the run.
Good thing I have the headlamp because I can't see a darn thing otherwise. The woods are deep and dark, and the fog and mist reflect my headlamp light right back at me. I do notice the occasional light emanating from a smattering of houses that are back in the woods.
At first, it's so very quiet that even that unnerves me. I do get used to it, but soon the morning crickets begin to chirp. Now it's downright noisy. But in a pleasant sort of way.
All of a sudden, something fairly large flies right across my path, directly in front of my headlamp. It startles me, and I stop. It was completely quiet as it flew by. Then another one follows it within a second or two. I look around for others but don't see any. That don't mean anything; I can't see anything anyway. As my faculties return, I begin to wonder whether they were rather small owls or large bats. I am not able to figure it out, but I'm leaning towards the bat theory.
A couple of the houses come with a barking dog. I am not threatened directly, but I do pick up a stick for self-defense, just in case.
The roads and turns are where I expect them to be. The hills are not, since I hadn't known where they would be. Suffice it to say that they're big. Big enough to put Effie to shame. Effie, by the way, is still the standard by which all hills are measured. I manage to complete one loop. I am 3.7 miles into the run, just as anticipated. I try not to look at the related time.
The second loop is better. It's getting light, and I can now begin to see where I went that first time around. The fog is becoming more patchy. And I'm moving a little faster as well. But only a little.
The third loop is faster still. Still agonizingly slow by any normal standards, but faster than the other two loops.
About two and a half miles into that final circuit, it hits me. I love this! I truly do. It's why I run.
Minor runner's high subsiding, I am back in time to start the day with the kids and grandkids. Time to hike.
Sunday, August 05, 2018
Double the Fun
June 4. 2017. That, as far as I can tell, was the last time I did two back-to-back hilly Hinckley nine-mile loops. I've done the loop a few times in the past, and I know a thing or two about it. And despite the hiatus, I do know how to do two loops, and even three loops. That said, I have, in fact, been trying to revive the Sunday Hinckley tradition.
It wasn't pretty today. The heat, hills, humidity, and especially the humility all came into play. But it wasn't really like play; it was more like work.
Dennis Amstutz, Theresa Wright, Frank Dwyer and Rick Roman were my companions. It was warm and humid when we started at six am, and downright oppressive during that sweaty second loop.
We somehow made it. But it wasn't pretty. Oh, yeah. I said that already.
It wasn't pretty today. The heat, hills, humidity, and especially the humility all came into play. But it wasn't really like play; it was more like work.
Dennis Amstutz, Theresa Wright, Frank Dwyer and Rick Roman were my companions. It was warm and humid when we started at six am, and downright oppressive during that sweaty second loop.
We somehow made it. But it wasn't pretty. Oh, yeah. I said that already.
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