Tired and sore. That's my answer to any question at any time about my well-being. I wish I knew why.
The good news is that today, it was a little less so. I ran up to North Park, where I do five or more loops around the lake. I picked up the pace once I got there, and I kept it going for those two miles as well as two more on the way home.
After a lot of bad days, this was a decent one.
There I was, minding my own business, running alone in the dark, when I heard it. It was a squealing sound, and I immediately wondered what it could be. Cats? No, they make other noises, even when fighting. Squirrels? I know they make some noises, but not squeals like this. Raccoons? I don't think so; I think they do more of a guttural growl.
Then I saw them. Two skunks in the middle of the road, squealing away. I don't know what they were up to, and I don't know whether they were squealing at me or at each other. Regardless of their noises and the sight of them, I preferred to not allow this encounter to engage any of my other senses.
I didn't think this would be a problem. Usually, skunks will scurry away when I approach; I only need to not surprise them. These two were well aware of me, and they were holding their ground. I was forced to skirt around them, staying well off to the side.
A half-mile later, I encountered yet another skunk. This one didn't squeal or intimidate. But I had to wonder, did I accidentally step into an alternate universe? Or perhaps it's National Skunk Day, and I wasn't aware?
I completed the run with my dignity and honor unscathed. I think I got back up to about 80 miles for the week. But it almost killed me. ((Squeal))
Run 1
At 4:00 AM, Andy Wolff, Michelle Wolff, and Old Dan (OD) begin their run. The time coincides with the 1:00 AM Pacific Time slot that OD is signed up for. The event in question is The Great National Park Relay Race. Teams of 24 runners are associated with National Parks (but not necessarily each other), and each is assigned a time slot for this day. These three runners are indeed on the same team (North Cascades NP), with starting times of 4, 5, and 6. OD even has a second slot at 6:00 on another team as well.
The pace is pretty easy to begin with. OD wonders how anything at all can possibly be easy at 4:00 AM. But he likes to run here on Lester Rail Trail, even in the dark. He also wonders how he ever ran here at this time in the morning before he owned a headlamp.
By the time they've run two and a half miles, OD determines that he may be able to go a bit faster, so he picks up the pace just a bit. The Wolffs hang back. This is wise; they will have their own timeslots later on. OD gets a little faster each mile, and he winds up completing 6.53 miles by 5:00 AM. He has also worked it out so that he is back at the parking area at this time for a short but much-needed break.
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| The pace for this first run started easy, but then got real |
Run 2
Andy takes off for his 5:00 AM leg. OD thinks about going with him. For about 45 seconds. A second necessity break seals the deal; he will let Andy go and run mostly with Michelle for this hour. They (Michelle and OD) get four and three-quarters miles in by 6:00 AM. Time for another break.
Run 3
Now it's Michelle's turn. And OD's (for his other 6:00 AM leg on that other team). Mallory B
Marquette, MI
Marquette is a pretty town on the shore of Lake Superior. It’s great for running, too; there are all-purpose trails galore. For the two runs that I did there, I mostly followed the one that runs along the lakeshore. It was dark and cold and wonderful.
During my second 10-mile run, I came to an aid station. This was unusual because there had been almost no other people on the trails at this early hour. I asked the person whether it was for a race of some kind. We have a “rough march” going on, he said (I think). Then I saw that the station was the turn-around for soldiers (perhaps National Guard), dressed mostly in fatigues and carrying backpacks, running in groups of two and three. I ‘soldiered’ on myself, passing some coming toward me, and others that I was catching up and passing. Most said hi as I went by. This all gave me something to concentrate on for the run: catch as many as possible. Out of a few dozen, I think I may have got them all.
International Falls, MN
I thought that if I just ran straight north, I’d come to the border, which is a bridge to Canada (they may call it the bridge to the USA). But in the dark, all I could see was the industrial stuff going on, run by a paper/packaging company called, PCA. There were sluice pipes and piles of pulp all over the place, not to mention smokestacks and factories.
Not finding the border crossing, I jogged around town in several directions. As it began to get light, I returned to where I thought the border crossing was, and it was right there where it should be. You just had to drive under the sluice pipes and next to the smokestacks. I knew I wouldn’t be allowed into Canada, but I just wanted to know that it was there.
Later, I ran by the Smokey the Bear statue (largest in the world!) and also the Bronco Nagurski (now there’s a football name!) museum.
Dickinson, ND
We stayed in Dickinson in order to visit Theodore Roosevelt National Park. Dickinson is home to two universities, and I managed to find (and get in) a stadium in order to hit the track. It wasn’t easy to get moving after all the slow and easy running I’ve been doing, but I did manage to get a tempo run in. Glad I did.
Psoa that’s what happened. I went to the track for my second consecutive day of Something of Slight Substance. This time it was mile repeats. Things we going swimmingly until I noticed that my left leg was numb and I couldn’t pick it up to move forward properly. I’ve had this problem before, and now I’ve got it again. I stopped at three intervals and limped home. My thought is that it may have happened due to my lack of strength and stretching exercises on this trip. I’ll need to work on that.
Rapid City, SD
Rapid City would be our staging area for visits to the Black Hills, including Mount Rushmore and Wind Cave NP, and also Badlands NP. Although it’s supposed to be a real nice city, the area we’re staying in, right by I90, decidedly isn’t. It’s all freeways, trucks, exhaust, and fast-drivers. In other words, there’s no place to run.
Not that I’m very good at running anyway. After that psoa problem, I’ve decided to take it easy and run slow. Yes, even slow for me. That means not getting very far. Oh well. It could be worse. Not running at all is worse. The best news is that that psoa problem seems better.
And that’s it. I’m keeping the streak alive, but I can’t be real proud of that right now. At least I’m vertical.
For a nicer description of the entire trip, check out this Horvaths Travels post.
It's been mile intervals for two weeks in a row. And for two weeks in a row, they went okay. This workout used to be de rigueur for marathon training, although the number used to be eight; now it's six. And they were run at least a minute faster. They surely are rigorous, however.
This week's run was pretty similar to last week's, except this time, there were no distractions.
It's getting dark quickly. Our runner believes this to be a somewhat unusual, at least at this time of the morning. It "dawns" on him that while it had just begun to get light, the new darkness portends that the storm is much closer now.
This same storm had been in the distance since the run began a couple hours ago. Lightning had intermittently lit the sky, but it seemed far off to the west and north. Then it began to seem closer, and eventually, some thunder could also be heard. Our runner, who had originally been only slightly concerned, is now running as fast as he can to get home before the skies open up completely.
It's too bad that fast is such a relative term. Our runner had been running at nearly walking pace. And now that he's sprinting, it's still no better than a slow jog in actual (not relative) terms.
A few drops come down. It's now as dark as night (again). He's on his street. Can he make it? Well, can he?
Yes! He can and he does. He gets to his house of residence after encountering only a couple raindrops. Within a couple minutes, the skies do open up, and the deluge begins.
At some point, fighting to achieve a weekly mileage goal becomes counter-productive. My "friend" wants to know where that point is.
My friend tries for 80 miles (used to be 70) per week. He doesn't always make it, but he usually does, and this is partly due to his GVRAT experience. Since he ran all those miles for GVRAT, he now doesn't want to back off. He's worried that that would negatively impact his fitness. Of course, running too many miles can lead to injury, which would also negatively impact fitness.
But the real problem (and the reason for the question) is that he does some strange things to achieve these miles. Like run VERY slowly. Like running on the mill. Etc. What a nutcase.
Tough Twenty Today.
Okay, enough alliteration. Larry Orwin and I met at Station Road Bridge and headed out for our long run. It was a beautiful autumn-like day, and as it began to get light, we quickly fell into a good, solid pace. We saw some other friends near Peninsula as well as on the trail.
The pace continued to get better and better, until miles 19 and 20 were actually under marathon pace. The highlight of the run, however, was the bald eagle sighting. It was up in a tree, just above us as we ran by. The early morning sun lit it up nicely. It was quite a sight.
Monday and Wednesday runs are often not so good. Tuesday and Thursday runs are often okay, and sometimes even rise to the level of decent. That leaves the weekend. Fridays are more often as bad or worse than Mondays. Saturdays and Sundays are usually with friends, so they're usually pretty good.
Today's run started slowly, but I was able to get down to tempo pace for the minimum three miles (all were around Brunswick Lake), before the inevitable crash. Some decent running is better than none at all.
That's just the way it goes here in Dan-Land.
Is that a full bag of chips? Delirious Dan is between 1-mile repeats at Buckeye HS. In the early morning near-total darkness, he can't tell. Figuring that he can certainly use the salt and fat, he stops entirely, and then jogs back a few steps to pick the bag off the side of the track. It's nothing of the sort! Instead, it's a plastic bag containing an orange peel and other filthy assorted garbage.
Delirious Dan, whose brain certainly does require something, figures that since he picked up the trash, he now owns it, so he dutifully carries it half-way around the track to the nearest trash can.
Alas. With the chips being only a distant dream in the darkness, Dan soldiers on. A few more 1-mile pickups (six in all) make for a tough workout. He needs this kind of stuff. He really does.
Turns out to be a pretty good run. (But it might have been better with some chips).
