Who Cooks for You?

As we've done many times in the past, we arranged for Debbie to meet me at Hinckley so that we could walk around the lake immediately following my run there. The run was nice, with several friends participating.

The weather was unusually warm, so both the run and the walk were enjoyable. But the really cool thing is that Debbie and I saw two large owls near the lake as we were completing out walk. We stopped to watch them for quite a while as they spent time on the ground and in the nearby trees. It was a thrill.

Some owls seem to be saying, "Who Cooks for You?" At least that's the way it sounds to me. Debbie's dad (and also Debbie) used to say that the summer song of the chickadee sounds like, "Who Did It?" I've disagreed, saying there were only two, not three notes in the song.

Clearly, whoever did it also cooks for you.

Ohio Challenge Series

Greg Everal OCS Director and me        Greg Everal Photo

Huge, ambitious plans were afoot. It was the beginning of 2018, and I needed a challenge. The test? To run shorter races and get faster. I would train for 5K, 5-Mile, and 10K races, and participate in them fairly often, thereby training and racing myself into better shape. To encourage myself to do more of these races, I registered for the Ohio Challenge Series or OCS. There are dozens of races, mostly shorter ones, and competition is by age-group within several broad distance categories.

OCS has been around for something like twenty years. I participated in OCS for many of the early years, but not for the past nine or ten. I was too busy doing marathons and ultramarathons. Now I’d use the challenge to challenge myself to get better. Oh, I would not retire completely from marathoning. I’d just concentrate more on the shorter, faster stuff. Such a strategy may even have a positive effect on said marathons themselves.

Readers of this blog will be aware that this didn’t happen. I didn’t race myself into shape, and I didn’t get faster. I did manage to get more injured. My Achilles Tendonitis seemed to hurt more when I just thought about 5Ks and 10Ks.

However, the competition gets thin near my ancient age-group, and there are those multiple categories. I did not do the required number of 5Ks, but I did run the necessary three 5-Mile/10K races and even exceeded the required two half-marathons in order to compete in those categories. What’s more, I thought I was leading. (Now you have an idea where this is heading.)

Debbie and I attended the OCS awards banquet at Breitenbach Winery yesterday. I expected two category firsts. But a funny thing happened. After winning the 10K category award ($40 and a hat), I learned that I was second in the half-marathon category. A fellow named Joe Tarantino had won. I guess I’ll have to settle for only $30 and a hat for that one.

I did get to meet the new organizers of the series. Nice folks. Will I participate next year? Race myself into shape on the second try? Who knows? Okay: probably.

Ninth Annual Buckeye Woods 50K

I finished my tenth BW50K at the ninth annual run today. This is possible because one of my ten was the eighth and a halfth run which was held off-season this past summer.

Back in 2010, our club, the Medina County Road Runners decided to hold a free (for club members) run at Buckeye Woods County Park. It would be six 5-mile loops through the wetlands and woods, returning to the shelter after each circuit. It would be after Thanksgiving when the weather tends to add to the challenge. Oh, and guess who became Race Director?

About 30 of us just before the start                      Michelle Wolff photo

The race has been ably managed by Michelle Wolff and Harold Dravonstott the past couple of years. But this year I helped as well, so there were actually three RDs. The best of all worlds.

After all the cold, rain and snow the past few weeks, today turned out to be a great running day; temperatures were in the forties, the wind was light, and the sun even came out in the afternoon. This is not to say that all of the running conditions were perfect, however. There was mud in the wooded areas, and a lot of it. Where there was no mud, there was often standing water a few inches deep. By the way: some of us learned that it's best to run right through the water, rather than slipping and sliding in the mud alongside.

There were about thirty starters. It was gratifying to see so many folks out enjoying their Sunday-After-Turkey-Day-Fatass Run. A lot of them were only out there to enjoy a few miles or a couple 5-mile loops. Those who did at least three loops were credited with recognition of a 25K finish. Renee Harden, Debbie Scheel, and Ladd Clifford were among the top 25K runners.

With an additional 25K to go, I didn't try to contend with those fast folk. Not that I could have, anyway. Even so, I was running well enough by half-way that I thought there might be a chance for a five-hour 50K today.

Lap four started a little slower, and I never got moving quite so fast again. Oh, I was running all right, just a little slower. And now that the 25K-ers were finishing up, things were getting much more lonely out there. There were a couple fast guys ahead of me, and speedy Debbie Horn and superb running partner Theresa Wright were close behind.

After lap five or so, the two fast guys, who turned out to be twins, dropped out. I was now in the lead, but I had two very fast women chasing me. And before we start with the jokes, let me say that now I was possibly subject to being chicked.  For the uninformed, if you're a man and a woman beats you, this is fine - we can certainly handle such things. It's the new Millenium and all that. But if you're the first man and a woman beats you, then you're chicked. You might say I was 'scared chickless.'

Lap six was about like laps four and five: slow, but still moving forward. My lap splits for these three were remarkably similar. Even so, I did look behind occasionally to make sure no one was sneaking up.

I finished in 5:25, a little ahead of Debbie and Theresa. I think there were seven 50K finishers in all. I'm very happy with the win, but I believe that my recent races have taken a lot out of me. Now I'm really burned up. Time for some rest.

Theresa Wright and me              Sydney Chinchana photo

Three Things

I recently ran a marathon during which I surpassed 100,000 lifetime miles. I was asked to write something about it for the Medina County Road Runners Newsletter. If you've been following my blog, you've seen some other posts about this mileage milestone. This is more of the same.

Three things I know are true:

1) There are a lot of accomplished runners out there. Some are ultrarunners. Some, I'm proud to say, are my friends. Some of these folks have also run gobs of miles, possibly even as many as I. But...

2) A lot of runners don't track their mileage as I do. I know. I'm a little goofy like this. It's in my genes. Maybe my jeans as well. Counting, tracking, measuring: it's what I do. I do it for a living, and also for fun. Most folks don't suffer from this measurement disease. I simply have my very own anal-retentive trait, that's all. Even so...

3) 100,000 is still a lot of miles.

The logging began in 1978, the year of my first marathon. I ran in some years that I cannot account for, but my total includes only miles for which I have log entries. Every one of the 100,000 is documented in some way: miles that I've tracked in logbooks, in spreadsheets, using online applications, and most recently with my GPS device.

Some fun with that number:

• The circumference of the earth is 24,901 miles, so I've gone around over four times.
• The distance from the earth to the moon is 238,900 miles, so I've gone 41.8 percent of the way there.
• The distance from the earth to the sun is 93,000,000 miles, so I've only gone 0.108 percent of the way there.
• 100,000 miles over 41 years is an average of 2,439 miles per year.
• 100,000 miles in 41 years is an average of 6.68 per day.

During a recent group run, I was asked which of my many runs are the most memorable. We discussed a few:

Completing my one and only 100-mile race at Mohican (I might have added that my DNF at that location ten years hence was also memorable).

The Green Jewell 100K where I got lost, then found, then won the race, then had to get in the car and go directly to the airport in order to fly to Europe. Thank goodness for baby wipes.

The time I was running in pitch-dark blackness with only a reflective vest (these don’t work so well when there is no light to reflect), and was hit head-on by something moving very fast down a hill. It was a biker who wound up sprawled away from his now crooked bike. I never saw him coming.

I could have also mentioned my first marathon, my first sub-three-hour marathon that took 11 years to achieve, and my last sub-three that occurred on the most beautiful day the Towpath can offer.

But my most important and most memorable run will be my next one. My next one with friends that is. I like the solitude of running alone, but running with friends is all that much better. I enjoy, remember and cherish group runs more than any. My next one of those will surely be my most memorable.

Until the one after that.

Whiteout

Using the term, 'whiteout' to describe today's run may be a bit of a stretch. On the other hand, that is indeed what I was confronted with when I turned on my headlamp. Here's the (brief) story.

...

I pass through the tunnel and emerge into the park. It's dark, so I switch on my headlamp. That's when the whiteoutness hits me. I'm nearly blind!

As I drove in only a few minutes ago, it wasn't that cold, and it wasn't snowing all that much. But now, it's a different story. I do the only thing that makes sense: I switch my headlamp back to off. Relief is immediate.

And now I'm running in a winter wonderland. Even though it's snowing hard, it's not accumulating much. The park is deserted, and quiet as can be. I can see fairly well, as the snow lights things up some when it's not reflecting the whiteness back into my eyes. The beauty matches the serenity.

Made in America Half-Marathon

I should be giving myself more time to recover after last Sunday's Veteran's Marathon, thought I. I should also give myself some time to breathe after traveling 100,000 Miles, thought I. But rest and relaxation were not in the cards today.

Made in America, at about $40 is pretty cheap, it's mostly on a nice crushed limestone surface, and it's in the Ohio Challenge Series, where I wanted to solidify my lead in this category. Furthermore, several of my Medina area friends were carpooling to the event. I haven't done that in a while and forgot how much fun it could be.

It was in the low 20s at the start, but I warmed up quickly during the early road miles. From mile four on, the race was on the towpath. Since this was in Massillon, I don't think I've run on this section before, but it was like other parts.

As much as I like the soft surface, the serenity, and the beauty of the towpath (it was a whole lot like last week), I slowed down. The first four were at about 8:15 pace, whereas the remainder of the race was at 8:27 pace. I had begun to slow down even further during the final miles when some of the runners around me began to encourage one another. This helped a great deal.

Even though we were now moving faster again, a sub-1:50 would be a challenge. Would I (we) make it?

Not quite this time. I came in at 1:50:16.

I'm okay with this. I am sure I could have done much better had I not raced last week, and I believe I did, in fact, ice my series lead. Best of all, I enjoyed it, especially the camaraderie with my friends.

Celebration

It was 22 degrees, but that wasn't the problem. There was a half-inch of snow, but that wasn't the problem either. There was some ice (actually, quite a bit) on the roads going down to Buckeye Woods County Park; that was the problem.

After some slipping and sliding, I managed to get behind first one, then another snowplow as they were beginning to treat the roads.

This first bout of nasty weather in a while kept some of the massive crowds away from my Buckeye Woods 50K Training Run and 100,000-Mile Celebration Run. As it turned out, only a handful of hard-core runners, such as Rick Roman, Kelly Parker, Harold Dravenstott, Theresa Wright, Larry Orwin, and Dennis Amstutz made the scene. They were more than enough.

We ran the BW50K 5-Mile loop. It was cold, but fun. And it was enough for me this day.

Now that I’m officially on the north side of that 100,000-Mile milestone, it’s incredibly gratifying to have such great friends. I am honored and overwhelmed.

Most of the hardy revelers     Photo by Larry Orwin

Me and my fancy pants         Photo by Larry Orwin

My 100K Cookie - thanks to Larry Orwin!

InFirst Bank Veteran's Marathon

Debbie and I arrive Saturday, the day before the race. We take a stroll around Keystone State Park, before pasta loading at Olive Garden, and then retiring at Springhill Suites, Latrobe, PA. Latrobe is about 30 minutes away from Saylor Park in Black Lick, PA, the site of the start and finish of the InFirst Bank Veteran's Marathon.

It's in the thirties as we arrive to check in. But the sun is coming out, and the temperatures are supposed to rise above fifty today. I kiss Debbie goodbye, just before the BOOM! cannon goes off.

The race is in honor of veterans, so they receive a t-shirt with their race entries, and others have the option to buy them. There are a half-marathon and a relay to accompany the marathon, but it occurs to me that there really aren't that many runners around. Maybe a couple hundred, all in all, tops.

I should say that I prefer it this way. I prefer the small numbers, the cool temperatures, the low-hassleness of the race organization, the scenic peace and quiet, and the soft, crushed limestone surface. And, on top of all that, I'm feeling half-way decent. In fact, I have to say that this is about as good as it gets.

But would I be able to run well? That's always the bottom line, isn't it?

I can't help but admire the beauty. The rails-to-trails Ghost Town Trail is absolutely gorgeous, The fall foliage is spectacular, and I enjoy every minute. Each time I hit a rough patch, I look around and oggle those wonderful colors. And each time it works; I become more relaxed and get back on track.

I ran that best-in-a-long-time 3:43 in 2017, but I haven't been able to get anywhere close afterward. I don't think I can today, either. But maybe I can come close.

I am tracking every five-mile split, and they're pretty even-steven. I hit the half-way turnaround in about 1:54. If I can keep this pace up, I'll at least break 3:50. That would be a good thing.

It's getting warmer, but I'm still comfortable. My splits are still encouraging. Will I finish strong?

My hundred-thousandth mile will occur, by my reconning, at mile 26 of today's race. If I can make that a good, strong mile, I might even beat 3:47 today. I want it to be a strong mile, I really do! And it is! It's a bit under 8:30, perhaps my fastest of the day. (I later learn that my math was off, and I'd reached 100K at mile 16 instead of 26.)

I finish in 3:46. About as good as I could hope for today - a day when marathoning is as good as it gets.

My One Hundred Thousandth Mile

My one hundred thousandth mile occurred, fittingly, during a marathon. The race was the Veterans Marathon in Pennsylvania. I thought I'd planned it out such that mile 100,000 would occur during the final mile of this, my 109th marathon, and my 145th race of marathon length or longer. I didn't realize until I got home that this wasn't the case; I'd reached 100K at about mile 16. The rest was gravy.

Today's 16th and 26th miles were probably not so much different from my first documented mile in 1978. Back then, I was training for my first marathon. But I suppose that my training miles were at around eight-minute-per-mile (or perhaps a bit slower) pace, whereas today's all-out marathon pace, including miles 16 and 26, was at about 8:39 pace. Okay, maybe mile 26 was just a hair faster.

Being the numbers guy that I am, I've counted all the miles I've run since 1978. I ran some before that, and I also ran during the 'lost year' of 1980. But since I don't have documentation on those, I am not counting them. Here's the list of my year-by-year mileage:

I should mention that I've had the honor of knowing and running with some amazing people who have accomplished nearly unbelievable things. Many are great ultrarunners, and many of them have surely run at least as much as I have over their lifetimes. But a lot of them are not quite crazy enough to want to keep track of things like this. Maybe they have better things to do.

Anyway, here are some fun facts with these numbers:

• The circumference of the earth is 24,901 miles, so I've gone around over four times.
• The distance from the earth to the moon is 238,900 miles, so I've gone 41,8 percent of the way there.
• The distance from the earth to the sun is 93,000,000 miles, so I've only gone 0.108 percent of the way there.
• 100,000 miles over 41 years is an average of 2,439 miles per year.
• 100,000 miles in 41 years is an average of 6.68 per day (I'd get better averages if it weren't for some of those 'slacker' years.)
• The average pace has slowed a little. Actually, it's slowed a lot over the last few years. Interesting that the mileage hasn't dropped, however.

Okay, that's enough now. Maybe it's time to quit. You know, hang up the old Hokas.

Naaah. I'm still gonna try for the moon. Is there another way to become the Greatest Runner Who Ever Lived?

About to Roll it Over

Remember when automobile odometers only had five digits? Probably not, but I do. It was fairly rare to have a car make it to 100,000 miles; most broke down or rusted out well before that. When you did get your car to that 100K mark, it was a Big Deal. We called this, 'rolling it over.'

That's about to happen to me. As of today, October 29, 2018, I have run 99,963.2 miles. Although we human beings don't have mechanical or even electronic odometers, some of us are numbers people. Most, however, are probably less interested in such things as I am. But I still think it's sort of a Big Deal for any human to make it to 100K without rusting out or breaking down.

Each mile is documented. When I began running, I wrote my mileage, and sometimes my time, in red (it had to be red for some reason) on the appropriate day of a pocket calendar. I still have them. Except, that is for 1980; I don't know where that went, so I don't count it. In the mid-nineties, I began tracking my mileage electronically. Later still, I began using a GPS tracker.

I thought I'd perhaps make a big fuss and have a group run to celebrate my achievement as it occurs. It doesn't look like that will work out, however. My plans are to run about ten miles tomorrow (Tuesday) and then ten again on Thursday. I'll do just a couple to loosen up on Saturday, and then Sunday is the race: the Veterans Marathon in Indiana Pennsylvania. If my math is correct, and if I follow said plan (which shouldn't be difficult), it (the rollover) should occur during that race.

Rolling it over during a marathon. Maybe that's appropriate.

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.