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.

Switching to Virtual

I place my butt in the bed. Raise my right leg up to follow it. Then I swing my left leg up, over, and in. YEEEOOOWWWW! There's a sudden, unexpected, sharp pain in my left hip. It's around the front corner a bit, so you could almost say that it's the top of my thigh instead of my hip.

It probably shouldn't have been quite so unexpected. I experienced the same pain yesterday night as I got into bed. But I had stretched and strengthened the thing all day, and I thought it was mostly better. The pain was also more intense today. And this time, there was some anguish and disappointment rolled in with the sudden suffering.

What could cause such a thing? Darned if I know. I did have a sudden psoa problem whilst running in North Dakota a month ago. I recovered from that, but I don't know whether this is related; it's close to the same general area.

Two point six miles: that's the goal for today. It's ten percent of the distance I'm supposed to run at tomorrow's Northern Ohio Marathon. Not much of a test, but it's something. The pain I experienced last night has mostly subsided, but I'm running quite gingerly. The slow, easy forward motion of my legs is generally pain-free, but then  I step up onto a curb with a slight sideways motion. And there it is again: that same pain. That does it. The decision is made.

As soon as I get home, clean up, and eat breakfast, I change my marathon entry from in-person to virtual. It's a darn shame because:

• Virtual racing is not the same as in-person racing. Not even close.
• I had been looking forward to this race. I had that double-or-nothing beer bet with Deb Horn riding on it. Not to mention that I've enjoyed this race in past years.
• Also not to mention that this was going to be my "A" race for the entire year. That got changed a little when I "went for it" and ran hard at Boston 2.0 two weeks ago. Even so, I thought I might be able to approach that performance.
• I had been experiencing other aches and pains after Boston 2.0, but I thought I had them under control. Evidently not.

I will probably do my run at a track. It's easier to support myself and also easier to quit if something goes wrong. But of course, you ask, what could go wrong?

Ouch, Ouch

If you don't want to experience a painful post, you may want to skip this one. I've written about pain before, notably (because it's still with me), this one about my Achilles Tendonitis. It references some others as well. Some of the post titles say it all: Step, Ouch, Step Ouch, and Step, Ouch, Repeat. Staying with that theme, I've titled this one, Ouch, Ouch.

Yes, the old AT is back. I've had it for at least six years, but the pain mysteriously subsided almost entirely this past summer. But have no fear: it's back as bad as ever these days. Here's the thing: I don't know what I did to bring it on originally; I don't know what I did to make it go away (I was running Big Miles and also some speedwork during the summer); and I don't know what I did to bring it back again. If I did know any of these things, it would probably be a great help in prevention.

If AT was my only issue, I could have just repeated that previous post title of Step, Ouch, Step Ouch for today's story. But keen observers will note that today's post title is different. It's just, Ouch, Ouch. My left foot evidently felt left out since the AT pain was in the right one. So it decided to have its own issue: Morton's neuroma. I don't know who Morton was, but I certainly don't like his neuroma. The condition is a thickening (and inflammation) of the tissue around one of the nerves leading to one's toes. It can cause a sharp, burning pain in the ball of the foot. I've had it before, and guess what? I've got it again.

The good news is that this neuroma thing often gets better on its own with proper rest and recovery. Not that I'll do any of that; I've got a marathon in five days, not to mention a 50K and then another marathon.

Running in Kentucky

We're visiting Mammoth Cave National Park and Cumberland Gap National Historical Park. For the first couple of nights (and to visit the former), we stayed in Horse Cave, KY. I ran a few miles from our Horse Cave hotel to the village proper of Horse Cave. I got to explore the town, but the run there and back on the busy highway wasn't so nice.

My second run in Horse Cave was better. I ran East on Fisher Ridge Road, then back on Flint Ridge Road. Going out, it was dark, rural roads through farms and forests. The only problem was some untethered dogs. A stick and the headlamp helped me get through. Coming back on Flint Ridge was nicer. It was beginning to get light, and I could see for miles. It was quite scenic.

After visiting Cumberland Gap, we stayed in Corbin, KY. My run there was, at least, interesting. I managed to get away from the Fairfield, the Baymont Inn, Knight's Inn, Quality Inn, and the Hampton Inn. Past the Love's, the Cracker Barrell, Hardee's, Sonny's BBG. Away from McDonalds, Wendy's, Shell, BP, etc. This time, I actually did manage to get away from the I75 interchange with all the trucks, traffic, and all the other stuff fairly quickly. The only fly in today's ointment was that I ran so slowly that I didn't get very far at all. Oh well. At least I did run.

A Few More Marathon Thoughts

Yes, I'm still re-living Sunday's little marathon. It was originally going to be a final tune-up for the Northern Ohio Marathon, which takes place in two weeks on November 1. But when I saw the weather and the course (and not to mention the beer bet), I decided to go for it. As it turned out, I ran as well as I think I could. 

And don't get me wrong. I am pretty happy with my 3:49 time. The best part about it is that I held my pace and finished strong. That makes for an enjoyable experience. I wrote about this in another recent post.

But. 

My best marathon time in 2017 was 3:43. In 2018, it was 3:46. Last year I did 3:48. Now that I'm a minute slower than that, I may have to admit that I'm slowing down... Some more.

I do now have that double or nothing beer bet with Deb Horn for Northern Ohio. Will I be able to run well at all again after this one?

Much of the soreness and fatigue is finally going away. So now that I have a week and a half to train, what should I do?

Boston 2.0 Race Report

Ever had one of those races where everything goes well, and just according to plan? Me neither. But Boston 2.0 came fairly close. With perfect running conditions (great weather, flat course, simple logistics, etc.) I ran as well as I could have expected: 3:49 and change.

Race Director Brian Polen did a good job on this replacement for canceled Boston. I believe this run itself may have been postponed, but I'm glad it happened. And it seemed to be done with much care towards keeping everyone safe from the coronavirus. Good job, Brian!

The out and back course took place almost entirely on an all-purpose trail in Ohio Amish Country. In this part of the world, all-purpose includes horses and buggies. I encountered several during the sojourn. I ran much of the way with Debbie Horn, who lives not too far away and who usually runs about my pace. Give or take.

In fact, we had a bet riding on this one: the loser would buy the winner a beer. I don't often bet on my races, especially with a world-class ultrarunner like Debbie. But -> I managed to outlast her this day. And I am looking forward to the "Amish" beer. However, there's this:

Two questions remain. One: when you encounter an Amish buggy on an all-purpose trail, do you go to the left or the right? No one seemed to know which way was best, but I usually went to the left because there seemed to be more room on that side. I didn't want to upset the horses. Or the riders. Two: Debbie now wants to bet me double or nothing. We are both running the Northern Ohio Marathon in two weeks. I'm not sure I'll be able to run this well again so soon. What should I do?

Reflections on Runner's High

There have been many times when I've reflected on why I run. Some such introspection, I think, goes with the territory. When you're running, you quite naturally spend at least some time thinking about what you're doing and why. One of my personal favorite answers to the 'why I run' question is, because it feels good when I stop. But there are plenty of others. The physical health benefits, the mental health benefits, the social aspects, and the joy of competition are a few. Another is the fact that running simply makes you feel good.

Feel good, how, you ask? Lots of ways, and this gets into the physical, mental, and emotional reasoning, of course. A lot of people assume that it's the endorphins produced by intense exercise that keeps driving runners back for more. Perhaps. But according to a Healthline article, a "runner's high" is not caused so much by endorphins as by endocannabinoids. Like endorphins, exercise releases endocannabinoids into the bloodstream. If you feel euphoric or deeply relaxed after a run, these molecules may actually be the responsible party. (Alert readers may have noticed that the name includes 'cannab'. The molecules act on your endocannabinoid system. This is the same system that’s affected by tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), the active compound in cannabis. Now you know.)

The article goes on to say that a runner's high is a state of deep euphoria caused by lengthy or intense exercise. Not all runners get it, and even those who do may not get it often, consistently, or for very long. I think I've been lucky enough to achieve such nirvana (I'm never entirely sure) but it's been exceedingly rare.

I'm going to relate this to marathons because it's where I've got the most experience, but I'm sure it may apply to other distances (or to non-races) for some runners. Perhaps 60-80 percent of my marathons end badly. This is because I got tremendously tired or possibly even injured during the run, and I had to slow down. It's a downright lousy feeling. 

But then there are the others; that small percentage of races that do end well. They do so because I suddenly found another gear in the final miles. I've said this before: there's no feeling in the world like being able to run strong at the finish of a marathon. All cylinders firing, feeling invincible, passing other runners, achieving some time or other goal, euphoria; all these things happen at once. Although I may have experienced it at other times, these are the runner's highs that I remember best.

And even though these experiences are so rare, they make all the other times - the runs that don't end so well - worth it. This isn't the only reason why I run, but it sure helps.

And Another Strange Thing Found

A few days ago, I found the strangest thing anyone ever found on a run. Here is the post about that one. Don't miss it - I don't think it will ever be beat. Yesterday's discovery, however, was pretty good too.

Maureen Oblander, Michelle Wolff, Andy Wolff, and Our Man Dan start their Sunday morning run at the Medina Square. Where to go? Maureen suggests the new trail south of town, where you wind up on Ryan Road. The rest readily agree since anything else would require conscious consideration, something in short supply so early in the morning.

They run through Medina residential neighborhoods until they arrive at a bike trail. They turn onto it and keep going. As the trail ends, they emerge into another (newer) subdivision. 

They immediately spot signs of the previous night's neighborhood party. Several yards and driveways have party paraphernalia on display, and it must have been a good one. One yard has a table set up on the tree lawn. It looks just like an aid station for a race, except that no one is manning or womaning the thing. And also except for what's available for anyone coming by: booze. All kinds of assorted booze in half-empty bottles (yes, I'm that half-empty guy when it comes to booze).

Of course, the runners make remarks about the "aid station" and then take a photo. Good thing, since no one would believe them otherwise.

Michelle, Dan, and Andy  photo by Maureen

Running in Michiana

Don't blame me for coining the word, Michiana; people around here (Michigan City, IN, which is very close to the border), seem to use it regularly. We stayed in Michigan City in order to visit Indiana Dunes National Park. I ran over that way, but couldn't quite get there. Unfortunately, the running around here really wasn't the greatest; dark semi-rural roads that nevertheless had some fast-moving vehicles.

Had I been able to get over to the waterfront, things may have gotten better, running wise. I did eventually find some sidewalks and even some (safer) neighborhoods to run through. Unfortunately for my two runs there, it was too little, too late. There was one interesting find that I will describe in a separate post.

The Traverse City (we stayed there to visit Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore) running was different. I was lucky enough to find a bike path to run on right away. I ran the 3-4 miles down to the bayshore in order to follow other paths along the waterfront. This running was great, despite the traffic wizzing by at five-thirty in the morning. I can say that I thoroughly did enjoy these runs.

For a description of the trip, see my travel blog post.

Picking them up, putting them down

The phrase, Picking them up, putting them down is usually a mantra for what to do with your feet in order to run. Usually... It takes on a slightly different meaning here.

It's pitch dark as I jog away from the Michigan City Holiday Inn Express. Yet the traffic whizzes by and there isn't much room on the sides of the roads. I eventually find a sidewalk on Ohio street. Those Ohioans sure know how to do things right, think I. 

Right away, I run right by an object on the walkway. I know I ought to just keep running and minding my own business, but instead, I stop and turn around to examine it. It turns out to be something I've never encountered on a run before: a dildo. I know what you're thinking: "You're not going to touch that thing, are you, Dan?" Well, of course, I am. I do, however, hesitate a little. Recalling that the Coronavirus doesn't live long on surfaces, I determine that I'm probably safe from that disease. Of course, I'm aware that other germs may be present as well. After all, we don't know exactly where this thing has been. I try not to think about any of this too much as I reach for it.

Picking it up, I realize that it's much heavier than I anticipated. Yet it's rubbery and slightly flexible. It's kind of deep purple-ish in color, but it's hard to tell in the dark. I consider that this is the first dildo I've held in I don't know how long. (How's that for ambiguity?) The next obvious question is, what do I do with it now? 

I consider how pleasantly surprised Debbie the Lady Adventurer would be if I brought it back to her. Hey, I think, I can even put it in a box, like in the Saturday Night Live skit. Imagine her delight! Also, imagine how I would look running back into the hotel holding the thing.

No, I think I had better leave it be. But this presents a problem. I actually have a personal rule that if I pick up any detritus during a run, I then own it. If I decide to get rid of it again, I must dispose of it properly, rather than just discarding it back where I found it. In this case, however, I make an exception and I do replace the dildo close to where I found it. I do, however, ensure that it's in an upright position this time.

I get home and wash my hands. I tell Lady A. about it. Turns out that she would not have been delighted at all if I'd brought it back.

Maybe someone else will find it and be able to put it to good use.

When a Hill Has a Name

Effie in Winter

This is a piece I wrote for the MCRR Newsletter several years ago. Brings back some good old memories. It's about what actually happens during one particular Sunday at Hinckley.

It's 5:30 A.M., and I'm only now just trying to pull into the Spillway parking lot. There have been times when I've arrived early (as early as 4), but this is not one of them; 5:30 in the A.M. is just fine today, thank you. I say I am trying to pull in. The road into the park from Bellus is barricaded off. This is a first. I guess that it's because of the snow that has been falling steadily for a couple hours now, although it has remained open during times of more snow than this.

A car just ahead of me is turning around at the barricade as well. It's Frank Dwyer, who is equally flummoxed. We decide to park at the ranger station just down the road. There are already two cars in the lot, and running back to the lot we see Caitlin Oblander and Rick Roman. Over-achievers that they are, they had arrived at 5 to run a three-mile loop around the lake as a warm-up. Now they're cheerfully imparting tales of running on the barricaded/deserted, snow-covered road, since the all-purpose trail's footing was worse.

The four of us, including Fank in his shorts (!), are about to start out on our nine-mile loop, when Debbie Scheel shows up. It occurs to us that several runners may be a little late today due to the snow on the roads. Regulars Jack Reilly and Michelle Wolff would not be among them at all this time. I am surprised that this many made it so far.

The five of us are about to begin running when more cars begin to arrive. It's Christina Sparks, Rob Lisy and Alan Dravenstott. Once again, the snowy weather had slowed them down a bit. I'm now quite surprised at the showing.

The eight of us start out running up the hill on Bellus. But we don't get too far. Other cars are also arriving. We decide to turn back, trying to get word to everyone to not bother trying to get into the normal parking lot. It doesn't work; everyone tries to make the turn, finds the barricades, and then decides to park back with the rest of us.

This time it's Jeannine Nicholson and Ladd Clifford. They ask us to wait yet another minute for Connie Gardner, who was just behind. I haven't seen these folks here, this early on a Sunday, for many a moon. Ladd and I briefly reminisce about an early morning 24-hour training run we did here a few years ago, in which we did ten three-mile lake loops in cold, icy conditions.

Connie is still getting out of her car as the rest of us begin our run, for good this time. It occurs to me that there is no one - not one person - who's my speed. Well possibly Christina, but even she usually leaves me in the dust the last couple miles. I consider letting everyone go on without me and doing lake loops, but when I voice this thought, Debbie and the rest reassure me that I won't need to run alone.

Heading up Bellus Hill, not to be confused with Effie, I have my doubts. It's oxygen debt almost from the get-go. Bellus is actually even higher than Effie, but at least Bellus is over with rather quickly. We're forced to watch and contemplate Effie for about two miles after turning onto Ledge Road. And of course Effie hits half-way through the run, when one is already somewhat beat up from all the other hills.

For the two or three people left on Planet Earth who do not know what Effie is, it’s a hill on Ledge Road. When a hill has a name, you know it’s a bad one. And when that name is Effie, as in F this hill (coined by Angie Kovacs), you know it’s really bad.

Throughout the run, I'm enjoying the conversation, especially with some of the folks whom I hadn't run with for a while. Connie, Jeannine and Ladd are the same as ever, and of course the conversation quickly heads down into the gutter. I suppose I'm partly responsible, but I would never admit it.

We're doing our share of slipping and sliding on the partially snow-covered roads. Ladd says that he would rather run on trails, but I point out that when snow covers roads like this, they're just like trails.

Rick and Caitlin are long gone. Debbie, Alan and Connie pull away on or just before Effie. The rest of us more or less stick together, gathering at the top of Effie to complete the last miles as a group. I am very pleasantly surprised that I've been able to keep up with all these great runners today.

We turn onto Kellogg Road. It has more snow than ledge, and of course it's still coming down. We talk about how some will be heading out for a second loop. I am jealous; it's been quite a while since I've been able to manage that much running. These cold, snowy nine would be plenty for me today.

As we finish up, John Pavlik appears in the parking lot, ready to run with the second loopers. this time the direction would be counter-clockwise. What a bunch of rebels. I start out with them, but I don't go too far before turning back.

Another Hickley Sunday run in the books. Nothing special about this one, but then they're all special in some ways. I am so glad I stuck with this one.

Towpath Trail Training Trot: Twenty-Two Today

The Towpath Trail on a Different, but Similar Fall Day

Excuse me if I've used this blog post title before. If so, I can assure you that today's twenty-two was tremendously more tremendous than any previous Towpath trail twenty-two. Now repeat that sentence three times, fast.

Larry Orwin and I started in the dark at 6:00 AM. After four or so murky miles, it began to get light, so we left our headlamps at the car, refueled, and headed south this time. By the time we got to Peninsula, the sun was up, it was getting warmer, and autumn colors were out in all their glory.

We picked up the pace on the way back, and it was time for Larry to call it a day. It had been a good solid 18, but I wanted more. I should say, that with two marathons coming up, I needed more. So back out I went.

Ever had one of those runs where everything goes as planned, and you run well and finish strong? Me neither. But today's run came close. Now running alone, I did manage to keep a decent pace for another four miles.

It's always great to run with Larry. The miles go by fast.