California Runnin'

 California Running

We visited California in order to see all of its wonderful National Parks. I was able to get out and do a little running as well. Here are the stories of those runs.

Twentynine Palms

They say it gets cold in the desert at night, and they’re correct. But it’s a dry cold.

We stayed in Twentynine Palms in order to visit nearby Joshua Tree National Park. This is the desert, folks. Big-time. And the desert can be a fine place to run early on an April morning. It was pleasantly cool, and the stars were shining brightly. I didn’t get real far, but I loved it!

Carpinteria

In my neck of the woods, it’s fairly unusual to spot seals during a run. I guess it’s less uncommon here in Carpinteria. This seaside beach town near Ventura was our home base for our boat ride to Channel Islands National Park (where I managed to also run a tiny bit up a mountain after our hike). It’s a neat place to run with beaches and bluffs galore. There is a lot to explore, and explore I did. 

In Carpinteria after the run along the shore

Of course, I didn’t manage to run as far or as fast as I’d planned. But when did that ever happen?

Marina

I’m running uphill in order to get down to the beach. That’s what happens when you have HUGE sand dunes. After a certain point, I am running through soft, sinking sand, and my progress, slow as it was, becomes much slower. I do make it to the beach (and this involves a steep descent from the dunes), and it’s pretty cool so early in the morning.

Incidentally, Marina is near Monterey, also on the bay of the same name. We’re here to visit Pinnacles National Park, which is an hour away.

American Canyon

This is the gateway to wine country, and we’re here to visit Napa Wine National Park. Okay, it’s not quite an NP, but we’re treating it like one – visiting as many wineries as humanly possible in a short period of time.

The running is surprisingly fantastic. It’s surprising because after reviewing the area on Google Maps before heading out (as I always do in unfamiliar territory), I still hadn’t been aware of the nearby Bay wetlands trail system. But the area and trails are extensive.

The thing is, like most guys, I don’t like to turn back. Instead, I prefer to find circular routes, but this is hard when you don’t know when or whether the course will take you back at all. No one said this attitude of mine makes any sense. As I head out on the trail, there’s a closed-down landfill on one side (complete with facilities to convert the methane to electricity and also goats to eat the grass), and wetlands on the other side. I keep thinking that the trail will curve around to the left, circumnavigating the wetland lakes. It doesn’t. It goes on and on, eventually curving back to the right. Now I am hoping that it will return me to my starting point after going around the landfill. It does.

That wound up being around three of today’s seven miles. Along the way, I saw and heard wild turkeys, coyotes, wild chickens, said goats, and all kinds of birds. Not to mention one hot-air balloon. 

Klamath

Owl: Who, who is that, running on the road?

Raven One: It’s just a human, out for his early-morning run. He’s got a headlamp. And one more thing.

Owl: What’s that?

Raven One: Nevermore.

Big-as-half-a-fist Slug: I see him. Look out! He almost stepped on me! Watch it, buddy! I can probably out-run you, anyway.

Nearby Snail: Me too!

Raven Two: Hey Human, I hope you are enjoying this. We’ve got perfect peace and quiet. The Klamath River that you’re running above (at times, way above), is beautiful and serene. Now that it’s getting lighter, you can see across and to the cloud-hugging hills beyond. Notice the tall redwoods all around you. Stop and enjoy it before you move on.

Human: Okay, you’re right. It’s great.

Woodpecker: Peck, Peck, Peck.

Raven Two: Oh, and one more thing:

Human: What?

Raven Two: Nevermore.

Redding

Goals for today: 1) Get some real running in, not the junk that I’ve been doing; 2) Get some mileage in, not the junk that I’ve been doing; 3) Explore and have fun; just like I’ve been doing. We’re in Redding because we visited Lassen Volcanic NP. 

Plan A: Parsons High School (Home of the Tigers!) Track – I discover that the track, and even the school grounds, are locked up tighter than a drum. I do manage to get into the school area, but then I think better of my chances of getting arrested for trespassing, so I leave.

Plan B: Run along the Sacramento River – There are people in the woods. I am on the dark trail, and I encounter some clothing hanging on a makeshift clothesline in the woods. I then realize that this is a homeless-type camping situation, and here I am running through with my headlamp. I then see other people, like zombies in the woods. Maybe they ARE zombies? I’m out of here too.

Plan C: Run along the Sacramento River (on the GOOD side) – There is a paved bikepath on the opposite side of the river, and I eventually find a way across and onto the path. It’s good running, but I’m nearly out of time, so after crossing the famous Sundial Bridge, I turn and head back.

As for my goals, here are the grades – 1: C, 2: B, 3: A.

Merced

This “Gateway to Yosemite” isn’t so much of a gateway because it’s over ninety minutes away. But the running would be good, wouldn’t it? 

Let me state upfront here that I’m not a pervert. Yes, yes, I run through school grounds in the early-morning darkness, trying to break into tracks (unsuccessful for the second straight run). And yes, I occasionally pick things up that I find – things that would be better off left where they lie. Like that dildo in Indiana. This time it was a couple of cards with pics of young ladies. One is a California ID card and the other is a  California driver's license. Now that I have these in my possession, I suppose I’ll have to take them back and mail them to their owners.

This run is mostly on the wrong side of the tracks, literally and figuratively (it’s a poor part of town). Due to the tracks and frequent trains, I almost can’t get back without retracing my steps. I don’t want to do this, but I do, and it gets me the ten miles that I wanted. A slow ten, but a ten nonetheless.

Ridgecrest

I'm in the trashy (figuratively and literally) part of town. Some neighborhoods were fairly nice. But this area, back closer to the hotel, is awful; there's litter everywhere. This is not to say that the running itself has been good.  But more on that later.

By the way, Ridgecrest is home to the China Lake Naval Air Weapons testing station. Also by the way: there is no lake here (it's a desert) and it's not in China. Furthermore, there is no ridge, nor is there a crest here in Ridgecrest. We're here in order to visit Death Valley National Park.

As nice as it is to run in new places and discover things, I wish I could run well. But the Achilles pain is too severe. I just shuffle around for six miles instead of the planned ten.

Story of my life.

Here's the link to the travel blog post.

Boston 2.1 Half-Marathon Race Report

It feels the same, says Dan, to no one in particular. That's because no one is running nearby - the Boston 2.1 course is pretty spread out, you see. Besides the smattering of other runners, there are a few bikers and the occasional Amish buggy. What feels the same is the running. He ran the 2.0 version of this race about six months ago, and there were several similarities, with only two notable differences.

Similarities: Same great out and back course on the all-purpose trail through Amish country. Same wonderful weather. The friendly small-race atmosphere is just as fun. The pace, like last time, is fairly steady the entire way, and Dan will try to finish strong. Or at least not weak.

Differences: Dan ran twice as far last time. And Dan ran about a minute per mile faster last time. No big deal(s).

Dan wonders how things could have gone so far south so quickly. The Achilles pain did not help.

At least he got through this without too much embarrassment. At least the pace was steady. At least he's still walking erect afterward. Barely.

Final time: 2:06. It could have been worse.

Not a Run Report

As I hobble around the house like usual today, I have an extra little spring in my step. That's because, for the first time in the past 372 consecutive days, I took a day off from running.

Why would I do such a thing? The best reason I can provide is, I just didn't feel like it. And how do I feel about this now? Pretty damn good.

Meteoric

They always appear when you least expect them. It's a minute or two after five, and I am driving towards the track where I am to meet Michelle Wolff for some speedwork. The entire sky suddenly brightens and then goes dark again. I look up and see the cause: a very bright green moving object. It's much brighter and faster than a plane, As soon as my brain can determine that it's a meteor, it disappears back into the darkness.

Michelle tells me that she didn't see it. She had probably not started out yet. The important question in my mind now is: would today's run be as meteoric? I'm mostly kidding here. I haven't done anything at all speedy for a good month. But today, I'm going to try. A little.

The important thing is to not hurt myself any further. I usually do pay for anything ambitious with excruciating Achilles pain. If I'm going to hurt anyway, why not push it a tiny bit faster?

Michelle has her own program. I decide to do some gentle 800s. I do one in about 4:10. That's slow, but I am happy with it. The best part is that it actually felt good. Not the Achilles, although that could be worse. No, I mean that it just felt good for my whole body to open things up. NO MORE SHUFFLING!!

I manage four more like that, and I realize that that's enough. Not quite meteoric, but I'm quite satisfied. It's good to feel tired and sore without having pain that's completely debilitating.

During breakfast, I remember to ice my Achilles. It still isn't too awful. But five minutes later, it is. It's completely awful. Debilitating with a capital D.

I don't know whether it was the ice or just a delayed reaction to the relatively hard run. But it's disappointing. And painful.

Run 1 of Year 2

After one year of running every day, you would think I would have learnt a thing or two. Especially when things went downhill so much towards the end of that year. But no, here I am, running again, without a day off.

Even though it's cold, it doesn't feel as frigid as yesterday. Today, I'm running on the Lester Rail Trail with Andy and Michelle Wolff, and Harold Dravenstott. Our blistering-fast early pace has slowed just a little. After some back and forth (the entire trail is only three miles long), we drop Harold off and go on for more. About 12 down, 4 to go, think I. Perhaps I will be able to do it if we run slow enough. I thought I'd heard Michelle say that she and Andy were going for 16. It turns out that she said 14. That's a huge difference. HUGE.

We complete the final few, and I feel pretty good. Pretty good like I just ran a good strong long run good, not pretty good like I only ran a few steps good. I may need to begin calling 14 miles the new 18 miles, so it can be considered a long run.

Streak!

I did not run on April 2, 2020. But I have run at least a mile – usually much more - every day since. I know other runners with multi-year streaks, but this one-year thing has been a big deal for me. Not that I would recommend such a thing. In fact, I’d rank it up there with some of the dumbest things I’ve done, running or otherwise. Here are some further thoughts.

The reason such a streak is new to me is that I’ve always thought that taking one or two days off per week is a good thing to do. Now, I think so even more.

This year-long streak coincides nicely with the worst 12 months of the pandemic. That’s no accident. For one thing, although I like to run when I travel, I sometimes miss a day here and there, especially when I have a long flight across time zones or some other major time constraint. But since the only recent travel has been via road trips, I haven’t had this as an excuse. I should also add that owning a treadmill has helped, mostly because the winter was so bad, and we couldn’t get away to someplace warmer. 

3,719 miles. That’s slightly more than the number of miles covered from January through December of 2020. It averages out to 10.18 per day, and it does not include walking miles. This is not to say that the running was fast, however. It was the slowest of my life. My average pace for these miles was just over 11 minutes per mile.

Even though the pace has been slow, some of the miles were actually okay. They include the GVRAT miles (May through August), and a pretty good marathon last October. Because of this, had someone asked back then how the streak was going, I would have provided a positive response. 

Recent weeks, however, have not been good at all. My Achilles Tendinitis pain suddenly became much worse after a track session about a month ago, and the running has been awful since. And even though my mileage was steady (at about 70 per week) prior to that, much of the running was just shuffling or being a treadmill wimp.

Bottom line: I need a day off. Maybe even more than one. It will come sooner rather than later. At that point, I’ll be a little less dumb.

My weekly mileage (notice the downward trend)