Note to Self

Note to self: when pulling up your two pairs of undies (originally under your tights, for warmth) after a bathroom stop, ALWAYS do the inner ones first. Otherwise, the resulting entanglement will take much more time.

Enough Negativity

Of course, there's good negativity and there's bad negativity. The bad negativity is occurring during this morning's run, just as it has for the last 800 or so previous runs.

For a lot of those other ones, I couldn't even make it outside, opting instead for a slog on the dreadmill. But today, I'm out, and I should be reveling in the conditions: nice and quiet, snow (but not too much), and cold (but not too much). It ought to be simply wonderful for this run, but it's not.

I wish I knew why. I'm just not woke, despite the couple cups of coffee. Besides being tired, I'm kinda sore and beat up, even though I shouldn't be. I'd be more concerned if this feeling wasn't so normal these days. Part of it, I'm sure, is related to whatever happened to me last week (it may have been a sinus condition related to the surgery). Part of it, I'm also sure, is that I miss my running friends.

Now I'd dang well better start my training for the Brunswick Marathon.

Negative!

Remember when I had that brain scan and was relieved when the results were negative? Well, it's like that for my Covid-19 test results as well. 

It's a relief, not because I'm feeling better (of course, that helps), but mostly because I didn't want to infect anyone else - especially my family. Now I can enjoy the holidays with them.

I mention feeling better. Maybe I'll even get some measure of running mojo back. 

Some day.

Test

Took me a minute. Should have known the opposite of a Big Push would be a Small Pull, but for some reason, it wasn't coming to me. Now that it did, here's what it all means. 

Last week's Big Push did start out okay, but I faded quite badly over the weekend. Since my weekly mileage is counted from Monday through Sunday, Saturday and Sunday finish up the week. As of last Friday, things were looking pretty good. All I would need to approach 80 miles for the week was about 18 on Saturday followed by around 10 on Sunday. I can usually do that in my sleep. But as you may have guessed by now, that didn't happen in either my waking or sleeping hours. And that made it a Small Pull instead of a Big Push. Here's why.

Last Thursday I had dental implant surgery. It went just fine. That is, other than the usual feeling of being punched in the face. They also had me on penicillin. No big deal - this isn't my first rodeo. To illustrate that point, Friday's run went fine as well. I purposely cut it a bit short, just to take it easy. Saturday's planned 18 was decidedly not fine. Sunday's run was only marginally better. Here's how this happened.

Just before heading out the door for Saturday's run, I seemed to develop a sudden runny nose. I did not think anything of this until it began to affect my run. That run started slow and then got worse and worse. I barely made it to 8 miles, much less 18, as the sniffling, breathlessness, and general fatigue all conspired against me. These conditions continued to worsen as the day wore on. But it wasn't until late Saturday and early Sunday that I began to worry a little more. Here's why.

Saturday, my daughter Veronica told me that my symptoms, which I thought were due to a cold, could also possibly be from Covid-19. Sunday, I felt at least as bad, if not worse. As noted, I did get out to run Sunday morning. "Don't you always get out of breath when you run?" asked wife Debbie. "Yes," said I, "but not this much." Every attempt at putting a foot forward was met with breathlessness, fatigue, and even some muscle soreness. I did some research and analysis and made a decision. Here's what it was.

It could very well be a cold. Interestingly, when we aren't exposed to very many people due to the pandemic, we not only reduce our chances of getting Covid-19, but also a cold or the flu. So I haven't been sick for a while. But still, a cold is probably the most likely culprit. It also could be a reaction to the surgery, or (more likely) to the penicillin. Or, as I mentioned, it could be the Big One - Covid-19. Whether it's a cold or Covid, it likely came to me during that surgery. I have tried to very safely shop when needed, but that's been the only other possible source of any viral infection of any kind, assuming that's what this is. Regardless of how I may have gotten it, it would really help to know. My decision was to get a Covid-19 test. Here's how that went.

The only testing place I could find on a Sunday was the CVS Wadsworth store. I stayed in my car and used the swab according to the drive-through lady's directions. I dropped it off, and hope to hear back from CVS within three days. The results can't come soon enough. Here's why.

Of course, I'm very worried about spreading anything to my family. As of now, I'm just doing my best to stay isolated. Not to mention that my running went from abysmal to <whatever is much worse than abysmal>. I will report back when I receive the verdict.

The Big Push

You heard it here first, folks. Last week, I said, "Next week starts the Big Push." Well, it's started.

Not well. But it's started. The mileage is back up, although a lot of the miles have been on the mill. Those mill miles include a "long" 18.6-mile run the other day. I'm trying to not lose much of a step now that that's done. 

No aurora borealis this morning. They'd been forecasting that sightings were possible, but I got nuthin. At least I was outside for a change. The (finally) warmer weather helped. We will see how the rest of the weekend goes.

GYSABOT

Of course, GYSABOT stands for, Get Your Sorry @$$ Back Out There. But you knew that, didn't you?

The phrase comes into play when the conversation during the bathroom breaks goes like this:

Dan1: I'm not feeling it today. Yeah, it's only been four miles, but I think I should continue to baby myself some more.

Dan2: Only four miles so far, eh? GYSABOT!

Dan1: Hey, maybe I should hit the mill. That way I could possibly still manage to get a long run in today like I originally wanted.

Dan2: The weather isn't bad this morning. The mill is only a crutch. GYSABOT!!

Dan1: But it's so nice and warm in the house. And the mill is easier. Please?

Dan2: GYSABOT!!!

Dan1: Oh alright. 

~TIME PASSES~

During a later bathroom break...

Dan1: Hey, it's getting later in the morning. I don't like to be out for this long. Time to quit, no?

Dan2: No. GYSABOT!!!!

Dan1: But I'm running so darn slow. Can't I just quit and call it a day? Maybe I can run better and longer tomorrow.

Dan2: It's only been seven and a half miles in these couple hours. Need to get to double digits at the very least. GYSABOT!!!!!

Dan1: But two and a half more miles will kill me. Won't it?

Dan2: GYSABOT!!!!!!

Dan1: Oh alright. 

~TIME PASSES~

Ten miles is achieved. It took three hours, but a lot of that time was spent in conversations like the ones above. 

Next week starts the big push.

Next Week Starts the Big Push

You've heard it here before: Next Week Starts the Big Push.

It's especially true now. The wacky weather this week - Monday's and Tuesday's snowstorm - combined with Sunday's 50K, have resulted in one of my stinkiest running weeks in a really long time. I've been babying myself like I haven't in months and months.

But Next Week Starts the Big Push. Mostly because the Brunswick Marathon is looming.

Me and My 1986 Running Pants

It's dark, it's cold, it's windy, and it's snowing sideways. And here I am, playing in the snow. That, at least, was the original intention. Now that I'm out in it, it's not quite as much fun as anticipated.

I reckon that there are about six inches of the stuff. And it's not just regular snow. It's wet/sloppy/slushy/heavy snow. Our street has only been plowed on one side. I pick the unplowed side. I start off running with the wind, and although it's tough to pick up my feet, the conditions don't seem too awful. But then I turn the corner and begin running directly into the wind and blowing snow. And it's about this time that the footing gets worse as well.

It takes me 31 minutes and 57 seconds to cover 1.97 miles. This on a day when I was going to run the usual ten miles. BW50K is still lingering in my bones from two days ago, but I don't feel all that awful. At least I didn't at the start of the run. Now that I've done this much, I decide to call it quits and shovel the driveway.

The pants? I should begin by stating that it took nearly as long to get dressed as it did to run this morning. One of the articles of clothing that I had donned is my pair of Gore-Tex pants from 1986. They're bright silver - almost like a spacesuit. For some reason, I did not also wear the matching jacket. Had I done so, I would have looked like I was ready for a mission to Mars.

Speaking of spacesuits, in 1986, Gore-Tex was new. Or at least it seemed so with regards to running clothes that I was familiar with. I was under the impression that the material had been developed as part of NASA's efforts in space. This article does not mention the space race, so maybe I was wrong about that. Instead, it seems that the invention was more of a serendipitous accident.

In February 1986, I began working at EDS in Michigan. The company sponsored a 5-mile race at the Michigan State Fair each August, and that year our division added an incentive to increase participation: they would reimburse up to $100 for running gear to the runner who best predicted their time. 

My prediction? 32:30. Funny how I can remember something like that from 34 years ago. (It's also funny that I ran two miles in about that time today.) Without my watch, I had no idea how I was doing until I rounded the final turn. Then I was able to see the clock: 32:20. Naturally, I stopped for a brief moment. Then I sauntered in to finish with a couple seconds to spare. I wound up being the closest predictor.

To claim my prize, I shopped for the latest thing: a Gore-Tex running suit. It cost close to the $100 that I would be reimbursed. It was a decent chunk of change back then.

But just look at how long it's lasted! It will probably outlive me.

Just out of the washing machine after today's run (not me, the pants)

Buckeye Woods 50K History

 12/5/2010 4:46 -First one!

11/27/2011 4:50

11/25/2012 4:57

12/8/2013 4:45 -Fastest!

11/30/2014 5:59

11/29/2015 5:17

11/27/2016 5:49

11/26/2017 5:11

07/1/2018         6:19 -Slowest (it was 95F), also I won (was the only finisher)

11/25/2018 5:25 -I won!!

12/1/2019 N/A -Only did 25K because I had to catch a flight

11/29/2020 5:52 -I won (I think)!

The Buckeye Woods 50K is a race I started ten years ago. I am happy to report that thanks to Medina County Road Runners club volunteers and race directors, it's still going. I'm also happy to report that I am still going. 

Yesterday's low-key race wasn't my worst, but I did feel pretty lousy towards the end. I am mostly happy to report that it's over!

2020 Buckeye Woods 50K Race Report

 

My six laps. From the looks of the map, the Earth must have shifted during the run. Or may it's a tear in the space-time continuum

Lap 1 of 6: It's dark, and after a slow first couple miles around the wetlands, now that I'm in the wooded part of Buckeye Woods, I am running slower than most people walk. I'll blame my lazy gate on the darkness (the moon is setting) and the cold (27 degrees!). I should also place some blame on not wanting to trip and do a face-plant in the dark, frozen mud.

Lap 2 of 6: Things are now a little better. During the last part, I see Debbie Scheel at the turnaround area. I manage to stay ahead of her, but I know that this lead won't last.

Lap 3 of 6: My lead doesn't last. We do run together a bit, but we stay 10 feet or more apart. As we head into the woods, she gets ahead of me. That's okay. I think this is probably my fastest loop anyway.

Lap 4 of 6: I am still feeling good. The sun is shining, and it's warming up nicely. I see a few other runners out on the trails. The Medina County Road Runners Club has purposely kept this small club-only race even smaller due to concerns about the pandemic. They succeeded. The purposeful lack of organization also enabled me to start early, since there was no official start time.

Lap 5 of 6: Okay, it's starting to get real. I changed into lighter clothing, and this helped. A little. But I'm getting a bit tuckered out.

Lap 6 of 6. Well, I ran a half-way, not-too-awful marathon if you ignore those first five miles. But now it's really getting real. After the wetlands, I slow to a crawl. I'm happy to finish this loop, but that means I still have a mile to go.

Lap 7 of 6: There's a mile loop to be done. It's usually done at the start of the run, but today I saved it for last. It ought to be easy since it's paved and flat. But after 30 miles, it's tough. When I arrive back at the shelter, my watch tells me I've run 31.02 miles in 5:52. Those last few were a struggle.

Epilog: I don't know whether anyone else ran 50K today. There were a couple other runners out there when I left just before noon. It's possible that I'm first. Or possibly last. Time will tell.

proof!

After

It's Tomorrow

The Buckeye Woods 50K is tomorrow. I'm much more nervous about it than I ought to be. After all, this usually low-key event will be lower-key than ever this year thanks to Covid-19 safety concerns. We will run by ourselves, when we want, and just report our results. No big deal, right?

Probably not, but 31 miles is still a lot. I did manage to run more than that once at the 60K run for Larry Orwin's birthday. But it's still more than I'm used to. And I've certainly been eating a lot lately.

I do plan to go prepared, to start early, and to do my best. We will see.

Turkey Shoot

The morning rain has mostly ended as I go out the door to begin this Thanksgiving Day run. Mostly. And you all know about my disdain for cold rain. Any other Thanksgiving, I would either be doing some kind of Turkey Trot race, or just running with friends. Alas. I'm running alone these (pandemic) days.

The rain is light; mostly just a mist. Even that eventually ends. There's some wind, but none of this bothers me too much because it's relatively warm for this time of year. I'm running the semi-rural roads that make up this 11-mile route. It's a route I haven't done in a while. There's hardly any traffic this early on Turkey Day, and I appreciate the peace and quiet.

It's still dark as I encounter a fairly large four-legged creature in the middle of the road. Without my headlamp, I can't make out whether it's a dog or a coyote. It quietly moves off to the side of the road as I (carefully) go by. I look back to see if it's following me. It isn't. Whew.

Now it's getting light, and I hear a few gunshots. They're in the back of a house that's off the road a bit. I am shaken just a little as I wonder what they're shooting at. Hopefully not me! I do have my bright jacket on so that either makes me a good target, or perhaps something to avoid aiming at. A half-mile later, I hear more gunshots, and they sound much closer this time. Now I'm getting paranoid. I am shaken some more, and this time I stop to look around, but no one is to be seen.

It's probably hunting season. Thankfully (it is the season), this turkey survived.

Disdain for Cold Rain

I make no secret of my disdain

For running in the cold rain

But today it was merely a little cool

So perhaps I’m not so much a fool

And the run caused no more than the usual pain

Know When to Fold 'em

He said, "Son, I've made a life

Out of readin' people's faces
Knowin' what the cards were
By the way they held their eyes
So if you don't mind my sayin'
I can see you're out of aces
For a taste of your whiskey
I'll give you some advice"

So I handed him my bottle
And he drank down my last swallow
Then he bummed a cigarette
And asked me for a light
And the night got deathly quiet
And his face lost all expression
Said, "If you're gonna play the game, boy
You gotta learn to play it right

You've got to know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run
You never count your money
When you're sittin' at the table
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the dealin's done

Sometimes I know when to run. I don't always know when to fold 'em, however. But I think I did today.

Saturday was a "good" day at Buckeye Woods. I ran two on my own, followed by five with Debbie Scheel, followed by five with Debbie and Jan Frandsen, followed by some more by myself. Although the initial twelve were fine, I don't always do so well when everyone else leaves me on my own. But this time, with six more to go to be able to call it a long run, things actually did go well. I did three loops around the wetlands, plus some more before and after to get those six. I managed to pick up the pace fairly nicely during this stretch. All's well that ends well. Where have we heard this before?

Sunday did not end so well. I got six in outside before the cold rain got to be too much for me. So I did a couple more on the mill. All in all, the miles were progressively less great. And for the third week in a row, I came close, but could not quite exceed 80 miles.

Monday's slog on the mill was also not so good. In fact, it was worse. What is it about Mondays?

This takes us to today. It's been a few weeks, but today was the day: back to the track. I thought about doing five one-mile repeats. Then I thought about six. Then two 3-mile tempo runs. Then six by one-mile again. Then five again. Miles one through five were pretty much just the right amount of effort and difficulty. I think I could have done one more. But I chose not to. Home I went, leaving something (albeit not much) on the track.

Makes me seem pretty darn smart, right? Not so fast (said the old guy who's current speedwork is like yesterday's slog). Those five did indeed take a lot out of me. It's probably a real good thing that I didn't go for six. 

This Sunday it's Buckeye Woods (the real race). Well, almost real - we're keeping it even more low-key than ever due to COVID safety concerns. It's just come and run, anytime you want. I'm still going to go for 50K. This will still be reasonably important for me, however. I will try not to fold 'em.

Alone Again

Dear Running Friends, I love running with you guys and it makes my running so much better in so many ways. But I've been thinking a lot lately about whether it's worth the risk. Admittedly, we don't know how much risk there is when you run with others, but it's safe to say that it's not zero. Since I am doing my best to reduce all covid-19 related risks, I've decided to reduce this one too. I will be running alone for a while now, at least until it seems safer to join with others once again. I hope it's not too long. I still haven't decided what to do about BW50K, but you will know when I do. Run happy.

Wednesdays

Several of us get together to run every Wednesday for a late afternoon run on the streets of Medina. I've made it to three of these in a row now, and I guess I'll keep doing it. I'm flexible, because, you know, I'm retired now.

But afternoon runs don't come easy for me. I usually do around ten miles that morning, so I arrive fairly worn out. But once we get going for that afternoon sojourn, I'm usually okay. Only just okay. We usually go five to six miles, although yesterday we did seven.

Then there's Thursday. Ugh. I can usually only manage a few lousy miles then.

And even Fridays aren't so great. But maybe tomorrow will be an exception.

Not Their Real Names

5:00 AM: 

Stevie (not her real name), Kate (not her real name), Kate's better half Cliff (not his real name), and Dan (his real name) begin their Saturday Sojourn from Buckeye Woods County Park. Stevie is turning forty years old (and now you have an idea why actual names aren't being used), so of course she wants to run forty miles today. Kate will attempt to accompany her, but Cliff and Dan will run somewhat fewer miles. Dan had tried to tell Stevie that there is no shame in kilometers (because forty kilometers would seem somewhat easier than forty miles), but Stevie adamantly insisted on making a stupid running decision (her words) to celebrate this birthday.

This Fearsome Foursome runs the first couple miles on the Inlet Trail together, then split up (boys left, girls right) at Chippewa Road. Cliff and Dan want to get back to Buckeye Woods in order to meet anyone showing up at 6:00 AM. Stevie and Kate will go longer, but will also return somewhat later. After all, their cars are there.

6:03 AM:

Cliff and Dan had hoofed it, but were still a couple minutes late. No matter; Jeff (not his real name) and Harley (his real name), Jeff's four-legged running partner also arrive at this time. They had been held up by the railroad crossing gates that were down for unknown reasons. Unless the train was invisible.

It's still dark as these four begin their five-mile run on the BW trails. This is the Buckeye Woods 50K course that will be traversed three or four times today, and dozens of times during the actual race two weeks hence. Early on, they spot an owl in a tree right above them. Good thing Jeff had a good strong headlamp.

Cliff peels off and heads back to his car. He has to go to work today. Dan, Jeff, and Harley make it back in one piece. But only barely. The two two-legged guys had managed to trip over roots multiple times. Luckily, neither had done a complete face-plant.

7:00 AM:

Jeff, Harley, and Dan are joined by Martin (not his real name) for this loop. Martin lives in the area but is relatively new to distance running (although he had done some during his earlier school years). For having only been doing this silly thing called running for six months, he is doing phenomenally well. Dan thinks, 'give him time to run with us some more - we'll slow him down and get him injured, not necessarily in that order.'

The sun is rising, and the light reveals that it's a beautiful mid-November morning. There's a heavy frost on everything, and the cold air is causing a mist to rise from the wetland part of the park. Dan thinks, 'this is actually enjoyable.' What's the matter with him?

8:00 AM:

A large crowd of runners had been expected, including the returning Stevie and Kate long-long-run duo. As it turns out, however, others backed out because of the cold (our runners actually feel fairly warm by now) and Stevie and Kate are nowhere to be found. Only Kathleen (not her real name) is there to join the guys for these next five miles.

It turns out that Kathleen and Martin are in a similar line of work, so they have much to discuss during this part of the run. After the wetlands, the now-familiar-to-all course takes these runners into the wooded part of Buckeye Woods. That's where the roots (now very familiar to Jeff, Harley, and Dan) reach out for anyone and everyone scooting by. One of them does manage to grab hold of Martin, causing him to stumble forward. Dan, who's in front, manages to turn around 270 degrees in order to catch Martin before he hits the ground. Dan thinks, 'why is there never anyone around to prevent my own face-plants?'

9:00 AM:

Martin, Dan, and Kathleen are done. Jeff and Harley keep going. Stevie and Kate are still out there someplace.

It's been a really nice morning, and a pretty darn good run. 

79.5

I ran 79.5 miles last week. That's not bad, but it was tough to do. During the summer, in the midst of GVRAT, I was cranking out this kind of weekly mileage on a very regular basis, with little trouble. Guess I have a way to go to get back there again.

The good news is that I've been able to run with some old friends again lately. It's nice to catch up.

Monday Madness: A Multitude of Marathon Maladies

My time for yesterday's two runs totaling 26.2 miles was 4:45. I think that's a personal worst time. But even if it had been a personal best, I still wouldn't be all that proud of it. For one thing, I stopped my watch in between the two runs, since I had to drive home to continue the run on the mill. Other than that, I'd been good about not stopping, even for my aid station or the long stop to change clothes. But another aspect I wasn't proud of was that it was all done on the track and the treadmill; not quite the same as a "real" marathon.  All that said, at least I got the mileage done.

What about my many maladies, you ask? Remember how I talked about my hip pointer pain and my Achilles pain and other foot pain? They're still there. But I was somehow working through my various aches and pains during yesterday's run, until the cold, driving rain hit. Then everything began to hurt more and more.

Where do I go from here? Darned if I know.

Northern Ohio Marathon (Virtual) Race Report

Editor's Note: what follows is a conversation between two virtual personalities: Practical Dan (PD) and Not-So-Practical Dan (NSPD). It should be mentioned that these two are in agreement most of the time. But when things go south, so does their relationship.

PD: It took everything we had to break twenty minutes for that last mile (number 19). NOW, are you willing to quit?

NSPD: (Says nothing)

PD: You should have listened to me when I said we ought to quit when the rain began at mile nine.

NSPD: But we were feeling good at the time. Relatively speaking.

PD: Everyone feels good at mile nine. Now, we're ten miles further, and we're definitely not feeling good.  We should at least have changed into dryer and warmer clothes at that point.

NSPD: (Says nothing)

PD: But nooooo. We had to wait until it was too late at mile 18. Way too late, I might add. So late, in fact, that it was nearly impossible to get those dry clothes on at all.

NSPD: (Says nothing)

PD: So now that we've completely crashed and burned, I'll ask again. NOW, are you willing to quit?

NSPD: Okay, okay, okay. I suppose we've let this cold rain and the general aches and pains get the better of us. Let's get to 19.2. Then we can do the other 7 on the treadmill.

PD: What? More on the mill? Are you crazy?? We can hardly even stay vertical. How the heck are we going to do even this 0.2, much less seven more?

NSPD: Look. We changed the Northern Ohio Marathon entry from in-person to virtual. Since we did that, we are pretty much obligated to at least run 26.2 miles today. Besides, more on the mill won't be so bad once we get going on it. And at least that will get us out of this miserable, cold rain. Yeah, the mill will be boring, but so is running in circles around this here track.

PD: Okay. Let's get home, and then we'll see.

NSPD: Okay.

<<An Hour and a Half Later>>

PD: Well, we did it. 26.2 miles. I knew we could.

NSPD: No you didn't. But yeah: we be done. Not something to be proud of, but done is done.