2:58!!

Sub-three at my ancient age? Who'd've thunk it?

How did I manage such a thing, you ask?

With great patience and perseverance, I answer.

It's true. I started early, and I ran very easy for the first several miles. Then I arrived at the track, wriggled under the fence, and began the more intensive part of the run. Track running sure is tedious, but I still love it for its simplicity and consistency.

When I was done there, I ran the three miles home. These were slower again, but not as slow as the early running.

So that's how I ran eighteen miles in under three hours!

Now for some slightly more serious matters. For one thing, I really am happy with today's run. Yes, 10 minutes per mile is pretty slow, but I'll take it this time around. I ran long today (Friday) because tomorrow is supposed to be a washout. And although I'll run a bit tomorrow and then more on Sunday, I need to begin to think about a tapir.

Why tapir? After the Inland Trail Marathon was cancelled (I am still bummed about that), I began looking for alternatives. I somehow came up with the Veterans Marathon in Indiana, Pennsylvania. It's out and back on a rail trail. Sounds similar, eh?

It's next week, and I'm looking forward to it. But the weather doesn't look promising.

Wooster Brick Run - Unrace Report

The 25K Wooster Brick Run isn't much of a race. You start whenever you want, anytime between 7 and 9 A.M. And with everyone so spread out, it would be easy to cheat, if one is so inclined. As you may suspect, there wasn't a whole lot of support along the way - I only saw people at the four or five aid stations. Of course I saw other runners as well; at least four or five of them as well.

Coming a week after Northern Ohio, I didn't expect to set the world on fire. And lo and behold, there was indeed no world fire to be had. I ran comfortably and very slowly. Except for the last four miles, which are downhill back into downtown Wooster. I was finally able to pick up my pace a little bit there.

The important take-away here is that it was fun. A lot of fun. I ran alone on those scenic country roads on that cool, autumn morning and enjoyed every minute. After I finished, I talked with friends and enjoyed that as well.

So no, it wasn't much of a race. It was better.

Why You Should Always do a Tapir

Ah, The Importance of the Tapir.

One should always do a tapir before a race. I didn't tapir this time around, and it came back to bite me. I was so lucky that the pace guy came by to scoop me up just as was beginning to drag my proboscis in those waning miles of the Northern Ohio Marathon. That was the only way I was able to ungulate through it all.

Northern Ohio Marathon Race Report

The Northern Ohio Marathon was going to be a 'B' race for me. Inland Trail, coming up in early November, was going to be my 'A' race. Two challenges would be: a) the weather (warm and very humid), and b) my own personal fitness (old, fat, bald, slow, and ugly).

But then, there was also a somewhat conflicting goal today. I'd run a 3:55 at my last marathon (Whitefish Point). I thought I could run at least that well today. Why try to beat this time? Heck if I know.

The light rain at the start ended quickly, but the mist, fog, and high humidity never left. This was actually about as good as we runners could have hoped because although said humidity made the running difficult, it would have been far more so had the sun come out to further heat things up. As it happened, the temperature along the lake never made it out of the upper 60s.

Headlands State Park is an awesome location. It's too bad that only the start and finish occurred there. Much of the middle part of the marathon is along the side of busy, concrete roads. I didn't care for those parts. The final miles, where runners return from the west, are the most scenic.

For $26.20, the Northern Ohio Marathon is a real bargain. It's what attracted me (I hear you snickering there). The race organization is excellent, and the volunteers - mostly cross country kids - are fantastic. I ran the race a few years ago, and I believe my sentiments haven't changed.

How did the race go, you ask? Okay, I suppose. The good: I finished. I maintained a fairly steady pace. And I beat that goal time by a whole minute or so. The bad: It was difficult - more than I'd have liked for a 'B' race. I had to struggle to maintain that pace in the final few miles - luckily the 3:55 pace person provided encouragement, without which I probably would have faltered.

Cool Finisher's Medal and M&M's for 1st in AG

Running with a Champion

Larry Orwin informed me the other day that Phil McCarthy would be running through northern Ohio as part of his run across the Continental United States. Larry planned to try to meet up with Phil and run a bit with him.

I knew Phil from his exploits running of the NorthCoast 24-Hour Endurance Run. He won the race outright two times, and he placed well other years. I was vaguely aware that this former National Champion was doing a cross-country run, but I'd lost track of where he was and how he was doing.

Then Larry posted that he did indeed meet up with Phil in Clyde, OH. I still didn't think a whole lot about it, until my Tuesday Track run. There, for once, it hit me. I should see where he's at and see if I could meet up with him myself. (I would need to leave work to work from home, minus a short running break.)

Facebook is really handy for stuff like this. I was able to learn that Phil had started in Norwalk, OH, and was currently on Ohio Route 303 in Lagrange, OH. He would be coming right by my street! Further, I could message him to let him know I was coming. And finally, using his tracking mechanism, Debbie was able to drive right over to where Phil and his support car were having a quick break in Valley City.

Running through the remainder of Valley City, Brunswick (by my street) and into Hinckley, we had a grand time discussing old and new times, and old and new friends, and old and new adventures.

Speaking of adventures, running across the country certainly is one. Phil has recently been doing 60 to 70 miles per day. At the time of this writing, he's in central Pennsylvania and will be back in New York in no time. It's amazing.

Debbie is dropping me off for my run through northern Medina County with Phil

Tuesday Track Tedium, and Nearly a Stinker

Track workouts have to be on Tuesdays. I don't know why, but I will try to guess: let me see. Mondays are too close to the preceding weekend, and Wednesdays and Thursdays are too close to the succeeding weekend. Weekends are special because they contain long runs. There. Now you have it.

Yesterday was Tuesday, and I was at the Mayfield track. I managed to stagger through a Yasso workout of 10 800 meter efforts. And they were efforts indeed. That workout took a whole heck of a lot out of me.

Today, Wednesday, I arrive at the track for the second consecutive day. Two in a row, you ask? Yes, two in a row, I answer. Today it would be 6 by 1600.

It's 5:00 A.M., pitch dark, and I'm alone, of course. I am on my first lap in a middle lane when I notice movement in the outside lane. I look closer and see that it's a small furry creature running in the opposite direction along the inside of the inside fence. It is a skunk, of course. I hope that it will manage to find its way underneath the fence, but it doesn't seem to be having any luck.

I come around again. The skunk had managed to get outside the inside fence and is now trying to escape underneath the outside one. As I go by, it manages to do that. It scurries away into the nearby woods.

The rest of the workout is uneventful. Exhausting, but uneventful.

I've had some runs that I've called stinkers. This one came close, and not in a good way.

Let's Get Sirius

Orion has been around during my morning runs for a month or so now. Can Sirius be far behind?

No, it can't. I have been witnessing it's rising for a couple weeks now as well. The three stars of Orion's belt point directly down towards Sirius at this time of the year, and being the brightest star in the sky**, it's hard to miss. Once it rises, that is.

**This is often a trick question. What's the brightest star in the sky? The answer is the Sun, of course. But Sirius is the next brightest. It's also not as bright as the Moon, Venus, and Jupiter. But it's still brighter than all the other stars.

Sirius reminds us of two things. One is that Fall is coming. In fact, it'll be here in a matter of days. You wouldn't know it with the hot humid summer-like weather that is still afflicting us runners. The other thing is that it's time to get serious about running.

Yes, with Fall come some of my favorite running events. And to do well at these, it behooves one to train. And in case you've forgotten, nothing runs like a trane.

What race are you Not Training for?

"How far are you going today?" asks training partner extraordinaire, whom I've probably run more miles with than anyone, Michelle Wolff.

"Twenty-four." It's more than I've done since Buckeye Woods, but we're here on the Lester Rail Trail where I've done other 24-milers, it's early, I've been dancing around the twenty mark during other recent runs, and I think I can.

"What race are you not training for?" asks Michelle. This is interesting since I recently posted about this. Michelle knows me well.

Now the pressure was on. I had to actually semi-commit to something. Okay, I thought. I'll come clean. "Out of all the upcoming races, I suppose the one I've ruled out the least is Inland Trail," I answered. Inland Trail is a good one; I've done it several times in the past. And it's true, I've been thinking about it a little. I haven't registered yet, mind you; I've only been thinking. Maybe I'll think about it some more before committing for sure.

Did I get my 24 in, you ask? Why yes, I did. Thank you for asking. Michelle and other-training partner Debbie Scheel joined me for various parts of the run. It wasn't an easy day, with warmth and a great deal of humidity. But as I say, I made it. And with a good deal of humility as well.

What are YOU training for?

When a runner meets another runner, or even one not seen for a while, the most common question is, "What are you training for?" The implication is that there must be something looming to keep you out on the roads and trails. Depending on one's level, it might well be a half or full marathon, or possibly an ultramarathon. It's pretty rare to hear something like, "Oh, nothing. I just like to run."

But that's exactly what I've been saying for months now. After doing more racing than usual during the first half of the year, I've switched to running for fun only. Here is the result:

I'm feeling pretty darn good! Still not 100%, as the Achilles Tendonitis *still* does act up after a long or hard run, but I've had it way worse. I do miss the competition, but that's a small price to pay for being able to run mostly pain-free.

And I am running. I'm still doing around sixty miles a week, although said miles continue to get slower all the time. My longer runs on the weekends are especially enjoyable.

Today and yesterday I ran in the rain. I know what you're thinking: that Dan doesn't like rain. But actually, he does. He just doesn't like running in cold rain. Even though a jacket was necessary today, these 18 and 10-mile runs don't qualify for cold rain designation. Therefore, I did enjoy them.

This is not to say that there won't be a race in the fall. But it's not on the calendar just yet.

Tale of Two Runs

It would have been three runs, but for the runs. Said runs were Thursday, just before my colonoscopy. If you are interested in all the details of the events leading to this procedure, as well as the procedure itself, please talk to me privately. I will share this, however. I had planned to run my usual Thursday ten-miler with running partner Michelle Wolff, even though I'd been going through the pre-procedure prep. Late Wednesday, realizing that I'd be "running" all night, I called off. What was I thinking?

Friday's run had been going just fine. Until the fall, that is. It had been a while, but these things happen when we least expect them. In this case, I was at dark North Park, and I was lucky that Michelle was there to scrape me off the asphalt. I was also lucky to have access to running water where I could clean out the road rash.

Today was the day for a long run. I ran with Michelle once again, but also several others who came and went. Although we started and finished on the Lester Rail Trail, we did most of the running in Medina. I (slowly) made it to 20, and the best part is that the final four miles were my best ones.

2 out of 3

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

Heavenly Hills in Wild, Wonderful West Virginia

West Virginia is a very vertical place. I have run in the state before, but it's been a while. After yesterday's downhill hike from the top to the bottom of Bald Knob (we'd taken the ski-lift up), my quads and knees were feeling fairly shredded. But I run everywhere I go, and I would here as well, according to my wont.

Extensive pre-run research indicated that there was a horizontal trail along the Monongahela River here in Morgantown. All I need to do is get to it.

Getting to it involves running down. Way down. After a mile of yet more bone-jarring downhill running, I do reach the river, find the trail, and get going.

The sun is beginning to rise, but it's still dark down by the river. As I proceed north, the asphalt changes to crushed limestone and everything becomes heavily wooded and very quiet. I bask in the solitude. I don't see another human being until after I've turned back - about six miles into my run.

As I get back into the Morgantown area, the sun is shining on the nearby hills. It's light, and I can see fairly well. I realize that I'm finally, after eight slow miles, moving at a half-way decent pace. But now I've got to get back up the hills to my home away from home.

I do somehow make it back up (way up) to the Fairfield. Just in time for more hiking.

For more on said hiking, see my travel blog post.

Hinckley is Back

Okay, okay. Hinckley never really left. But a lot of us did; we hadn't been meeting there for our Sunday morning runs for quite some time. This was for various reasons, but now that's all changed.


We met the other day, and did our good old nine-mile loop. It was the same old gang, and the same old hilly "Effie" loop. Some of us did some extra lake loops as well.


Just like old times!!

Battle of Wounded Knee (as an innocent bystander)

I suppose I wasn't entirely bystanding; I was running. And I wasn't entirely innocent; I had invited my friend Larry Orwin to run with me, after all.


I was aware that this was less than a week after his Herculean effort to complete the Canal Corridor 100-mile race, but he said he was running again already, and I needed a partner.


So we met on the towpath for a fourteen-mile run from Station Road Bridge to Lock 29 and back.


Wouldn't you know it? At precisely seven miles out, just as we were about to turn into the Lock 29 area, his knee goes. He had to stop entirely. Innocent bystander that I was, I stopped to make sure he way okay. He said he was, but he wasn't. After some water, we tried to run back to Brecksville.


Didn't happen. Poor Larry could only walk. I ended up running back to get the car to pick him up. Strangely, I ran those six-plus miles really well. I suppose it was the adrenaline effort to get to the car and back in a decent amount of time.


Hope you're okay, Larry!

North Canton YMCA 4th of July 5-mile

Since I have participated in the Ohio Challenge Series many years, I've done this race many times, albeit many moons ago. It's a fun Fourth of July event; the whole city is alive and hopping for the race as it occurs just prior to the annual parade.

Fun though it is, I've never run particularly well here. But sometimes you just need to fulfill your racing obligation for the series. That was going to be the case today. I needed one more 5-mile to 10k distance race to compete in that category, and this would be it. I already have the 1/2 marathon distance category completed as well. Since I won't be bothering with any more 5k runs in the series, I won't compete in that category. And that, my friends, means I'm done!

Coming just a scant three days after BW50K, (And did I mention the relentless heat?) I knew that I wouldn't be at my best. I just wanted to run the distance.

It turned out that just getting the distance in, was a tremendous chore. I thought I was gonna die in that heat. I thought they would be scraping me off the pavement when the race was done.

Well, somehow I remained vertical. But done, I was. 46:50.

Now I'm done in another way too. I'm done doing ANY racing for a while. A long while.