Cutting back my mileage seems to have done me some good. This week I ran 2K (1.2 miles), a mile and a half and yesterday, two miles, my "long" run. That was the best of all. It was cold when I started and I wished had brought my running vest. Instead I bumped up my pace for more warmth from exertion and I found that I enjoyed the faster pace and it didn't knock me back to where my ragged breathing made me wish I could contrive an excuse to end or shorten the run.
As a matter of fact, my breathing didn't increase much when I kicked it up a gear and I found I was running easily. Heartened, I continued up Broad Street towards the one-mile turnaround in the Metro parking lot, and I noticed I wasn't noticing, as I have been so far in my return to running the last half year, the general uphill inclination of the first half of the route.
At the halfway point, I started back and fell in with a fellow walking way from the station all decked out in Nationals gear and I asked if he was returning from the parade downtown honoring the World Series champions Washington Nationals. He was, and I walked a block with him as he described how festive the atmosphere was in DC during the festivity and we discussed the chances to repeat were for the team next year since their two biggest stars, the Series MVP and the NL and Series RBI leader, are free agents now. Waving goodbye to him, I ran towards home, encountering two little girls and their dad on bikes riding ahead of me on the sidewalk and I manufactured the challenge of passing them which I did.
It was a good outing, two miles run at an elevated pace, more or less, and it didn't wipe me out and my breathing felt finer, finally. I feel like my running is finally starting to come around a little.
Showing posts with label Long Runs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Long Runs. Show all posts
Sunday, November 3, 2019
Saturday, August 31, 2019
The good long run
Since May 1st, when I came back to running after two sedentary years due to injuries, because I run solo now now that all my former running buddies have moved away or else spun me out of their lives, I have laid down iron rules for myself about about coming back without injuring myself or getting discouraged because I can't do it and returning to the couch. Basically my plan called for running three times a week starting at half a mile a run and slowly, methodically, bumping up the mileage.
Four months later, now I can make ten miles a week. My first run back I couldn't run half of half a mile without needing to walk.
This past week I ran three miles each on two runs plus a 3K distance time on a third day to make up for a run I missed earlier in the month due to a sore calf. But I needed to do my "long" run for the week of four miles.
I decided to have a fun run and do two miles out and two miles back on the flat W&OD Trail and chat up everyone I could. So many runners these days are in their own cocoon of isolation, fueled by their egos and abetted by their dangling white wires leading to their ear buds, that they don't acknowledge passing runners by returning a wave or answer anything (not even a glance) to a "Good morning."
I fulfilled my wish and had a very relaxed, fun run. First I stopped at a spot just off the trail where two teen boys were doing watercolors of the trail and spent a couple of minutes talking to them about their landscapes. Both had portrayed the dramatic sky over the trail in different fashions, one featuring white cumulous clouds against a pale blue sky backdrop and the other painting in the sky in a shifting, competing clash of bluish colors with the clouds in various shades of grey, not stark white structures. Neither had drawn in any runners on the trail yet so I told them with tongue in cheek that I would pose for them on the trail on my way back but when I returned half an our later they were gone.
Next up was a elderly walker standing by a nearby milepost. I stopped and asked him how far he was going and he looked at me suspiciously but answered, "A mile. I am testing my distance recorder and have walked from milepost 8 to milepost 7 but my readout only says .997 of a mile." He looked dismayed. I said that the mile markers were known to be slightly off sometimes and it was a mile if he rounded it off. He was obviously unconvinced.
Next I ran through an Arlington Fire Department Station parking lot on a detour from the trail where they are building an overpass over Route 29 and I encountered an on-duty fireman who was carrying dumbbells across the lot to simulate carrying heavy fire equipment, and I asked him for tips on how to properly lift dumbbells for the maximum effect since I have started doing reps of bicep curls before and after each run. He gave me some good suggestions and I turned around at the halfway point and headed home, arriving at my house half an hour later after waving hello to everyone I passed, runners and walkers alike and receiving a wave or greeting back in almost all instances. I ignored bicyclists as they are all in their own world and never call out "Passing" as required, seeming to delight in whipping around runners as fast and as close and as silently as possible in the interest of startling plodding runners deigning to be in their kingly sphere.
It was a fun run, as I said. I felt great about it when I finished, the feeling I used to get from running before I fell off the running wagon due to injuries a couple of years ago and got so hideously out of shape.
Four months later, now I can make ten miles a week. My first run back I couldn't run half of half a mile without needing to walk.
This past week I ran three miles each on two runs plus a 3K distance time on a third day to make up for a run I missed earlier in the month due to a sore calf. But I needed to do my "long" run for the week of four miles.
I decided to have a fun run and do two miles out and two miles back on the flat W&OD Trail and chat up everyone I could. So many runners these days are in their own cocoon of isolation, fueled by their egos and abetted by their dangling white wires leading to their ear buds, that they don't acknowledge passing runners by returning a wave or answer anything (not even a glance) to a "Good morning."
I fulfilled my wish and had a very relaxed, fun run. First I stopped at a spot just off the trail where two teen boys were doing watercolors of the trail and spent a couple of minutes talking to them about their landscapes. Both had portrayed the dramatic sky over the trail in different fashions, one featuring white cumulous clouds against a pale blue sky backdrop and the other painting in the sky in a shifting, competing clash of bluish colors with the clouds in various shades of grey, not stark white structures. Neither had drawn in any runners on the trail yet so I told them with tongue in cheek that I would pose for them on the trail on my way back but when I returned half an our later they were gone.
Next up was a elderly walker standing by a nearby milepost. I stopped and asked him how far he was going and he looked at me suspiciously but answered, "A mile. I am testing my distance recorder and have walked from milepost 8 to milepost 7 but my readout only says .997 of a mile." He looked dismayed. I said that the mile markers were known to be slightly off sometimes and it was a mile if he rounded it off. He was obviously unconvinced.
Next I ran through an Arlington Fire Department Station parking lot on a detour from the trail where they are building an overpass over Route 29 and I encountered an on-duty fireman who was carrying dumbbells across the lot to simulate carrying heavy fire equipment, and I asked him for tips on how to properly lift dumbbells for the maximum effect since I have started doing reps of bicep curls before and after each run. He gave me some good suggestions and I turned around at the halfway point and headed home, arriving at my house half an hour later after waving hello to everyone I passed, runners and walkers alike and receiving a wave or greeting back in almost all instances. I ignored bicyclists as they are all in their own world and never call out "Passing" as required, seeming to delight in whipping around runners as fast and as close and as silently as possible in the interest of startling plodding runners deigning to be in their kingly sphere.
It was a fun run, as I said. I felt great about it when I finished, the feeling I used to get from running before I fell off the running wagon due to injuries a couple of years ago and got so hideously out of shape.
Saturday, April 28, 2018
Shoes and Rules
I saw my friend and former colleague Greg running by in the District last week and he stopped for a minute to chat. He's a better runner than me and much more disciplined and I ask him for running advice sometimes.
I told him I had just finished an LSD of 5 miles as I was slowly getting back to running due to a long lay-off due to ankle and feet injuries and after a glance downwards he said, "I see you've got your best pair of running shoes on, with both little toes poking well through the fabric, and when you get injured again, Peter, I'm not going to have any sympathy." I protested that the shoes were less than two years old and there was still plenty of tread left on them and lifted a foot to show him.
"Nope, smooth as an iron down there and with probably just as much cushioning," he pronounced disapprovingly. So, when I got home I went across the street to Runners World and bought two pairs of stability (for over pronators) "gently used shoes" (returns) in my size on clearance for about $130, a pair by Saucony and a pair by Brooks.
My next run, wearing the "new" Sauconies, was like I'd been transported to heaven, with every step a cushiony foot strike that felt like I was wearing pillows, not boards, strapped to my feet. When I got home, much against my frugal nature (I'm a child influenced by parents who lived as children through the desperate barter-economy of the Great Depression), I threw not one but two apparently worn-out pairs of running shoes out in spite of my iron-clad rule of only disposing of one pair of broken-down, treadless shoes each year, and only in January.
I told him I had just finished an LSD of 5 miles as I was slowly getting back to running due to a long lay-off due to ankle and feet injuries and after a glance downwards he said, "I see you've got your best pair of running shoes on, with both little toes poking well through the fabric, and when you get injured again, Peter, I'm not going to have any sympathy." I protested that the shoes were less than two years old and there was still plenty of tread left on them and lifted a foot to show him.
"Nope, smooth as an iron down there and with probably just as much cushioning," he pronounced disapprovingly. So, when I got home I went across the street to Runners World and bought two pairs of stability (for over pronators) "gently used shoes" (returns) in my size on clearance for about $130, a pair by Saucony and a pair by Brooks.
My next run, wearing the "new" Sauconies, was like I'd been transported to heaven, with every step a cushiony foot strike that felt like I was wearing pillows, not boards, strapped to my feet. When I got home, much against my frugal nature (I'm a child influenced by parents who lived as children through the desperate barter-economy of the Great Depression), I threw not one but two apparently worn-out pairs of running shoes out in spite of my iron-clad rule of only disposing of one pair of broken-down, treadless shoes each year, and only in January.
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
Five miles
Yesterday I met a friend in the District for a 3 mile run around the Tidal Basin at noon, running from Haines Point to L'Enfant Plaza for my meeting with her and then back to my car afterwards to add a couple of extra miles so I accomplished this week's LSD of five miles. On Haines Point another friend of mine from my former workplace ran by so I spent a few minutes chatting with him, catching up on office goings-on.
The run at the Tidal Basin went past the Tulip Library so we spent a few moments drinking in the beauty of its floral beds. Reds, whites, pinks, yellows and more colors rewarded our circumvention of the Tidal Basin.
My favorite sight is when a particular bed of one kind of tulips has an outlier or two in it of a tulip of another color. Each bed seems to get encroached by another kind, maybe a wall, a big, beautiful see-through wall--not a fence--should be built around each bed to stop this kind of unlimited breeding and dangerous intermingling.
Taking the Francis Case Bridge back to my car afterwards, I looked down on the newly constructed Washington Waterfront and saw the old and the new side-by-side. The modern waterfront seems to be killing the old, once-thriving fresh seafood business that it is encroaching upon.
The run at the Tidal Basin went past the Tulip Library so we spent a few moments drinking in the beauty of its floral beds. Reds, whites, pinks, yellows and more colors rewarded our circumvention of the Tidal Basin.
My favorite sight is when a particular bed of one kind of tulips has an outlier or two in it of a tulip of another color. Each bed seems to get encroached by another kind, maybe a wall, a big, beautiful see-through wall--not a fence--should be built around each bed to stop this kind of unlimited breeding and dangerous intermingling.
Taking the Francis Case Bridge back to my car afterwards, I looked down on the newly constructed Washington Waterfront and saw the old and the new side-by-side. The modern waterfront seems to be killing the old, once-thriving fresh seafood business that it is encroaching upon.
Monday, April 9, 2018
a long run
Sunday morning presented itself as cold and raw as I lay deep under the covers of my warm bed, not conducive in the least to my planned LSD of four miles in my slow return running after a ten-month lay-off due to injuries. My cell phone told me it was 39 degrees and it felt like 32 degrees with the steady wind gusting to 15 mph, which I could hear blowing outside as it rattled my bedroom windows.
I got up and went downstairs and had breakfast instead of heading outdoors for my planned run. Tomorrow, I told myself, I'll run tomorrow instead and take my third day off today in a row instead.
My sloth, induced by a desire not to be cold for an hour as I ran, bothered me all day as I basically did nothing all day except mostly fret about so easily returning to my lethargic ways of the past year as I healed from my achilles strain and put on several dozen pounds. Pulling invasive tree-killing clinging vines from high up in the top branches of the holly and evergreen trees in my yard in the progressing afternoon, I determined that it had warmed up to about 48 degrees with very little wind and a steady sunny sky just like the weather forecast had predicted, so I decided to put my long run for the week behind me and go out for four slow miles before the sun got too low and caused chilling shadows on the bike trail behind my house.
I put on my running togs and ankle braces, did my bicep curls with my twenty-five pound dumbbell, stretched my ankles and feet on the curb and set out up the street to burn a local mile in the neighborhood before I hit the W&OD Trail for a three mile out-and-back shuffle. Before I knew it, I was on the trail, starting to sweat despite my minimal short-sleeve shirt and the chilly environment, feeling good about being out there and feeling alive and running again.
To be sure, several people passed me as I plodded along breathing heavily, but I didn't care because I was going to get my longest run since last spring done and it was going to go well, I could tell. At the far end of my out-and-back I passed by my man Trevor, just coming off his duty soliciting money from passing motorists at the light on Lee Highway and the exit ramp from EB I-66 and we sat on a bench and talked for awhile while I cooled off and regained my breath and he waited for his Lyft ride to take him back to the homeless shelter for the night.
Our ketchup conversation over, I set out on the last mile and a half to finish my run and return home with a spring in my step, feeling rejuvenated by my ten-minute pause. The period of ragged breathing as the first half-mile that passed under my feet came and went quickly, and the last mile thereupon of my four mile run went by quickly and easily, although I broke out in a sweat all over again.
I even started noticing the colorful vegetation along the trail, the native spring flowers along the paved pathway and the leaves starting to come out on trees lining the embankment. I reflected wistfully on the many past running buddies I've had who have all moved away or moved on as mostly I run solo now, invisible mostly on the trail at my age, Rhea, Leah, David, John, Ashley, Markus and several others.
It's a long trail to return to running after such a long layoff and so much weight gained as old as I have become, but I'm glad the first dreadful month of feeling like I'm dying every run is now behind me. Eight pounds lighter and tons more determined to keep forging on, increasing my distance and pace slowly in a planned manner, things are definitely looking up as spring brings ever better weather for my return to health and running.
Friday, November 18, 2016
This Week's Long Run
Seven miles was my plan for a long run this week. Actually it's for next week because I already finished my five days of running for this week, and I ran 23 miles even though the running week doesn't finish till Saturday. My long run for this week, or now, last week, was 5.6 miles, which I did twice.
So today, in 68 degree weather, I set out in the afternoon to do seven miles. Which I did, by burning up a neighborhood mile first, then doing a large loop around the greater neighborhood and adding a mile on the W&OD Trail at the end. The impetus to get going was shaky, as I was listening to my body talk to my brain the first mile, telling me my joints hurt, my breathing was ragged, and a mile would be a good output; it would count for entry in my weekly tally.
I kept going though and got all seven miles done. I run alone these days because every single running partner I ever had has dropped away most due to moving away, a few to injury and a couple to inertia. Since my surgery in the summer I've struggled with my weight and have bemoaned my dropped-away friendships but that's life, it's always moving forward towards inevitable and unavoidable change.
So now I'm carrying a ten-pound barbell every time I run these days. However, that beats carrying the sixty-pound anvil I was carrying on runs when I was trying to come back from injury in 2011. Running more (or harder) is only half of the equation though, next I'll have to address the other half of the equation by eating less (or better).
Friday, October 14, 2016
Running out September
The last week of September, as my surgical procedure in August continued to bother me, I still ran five times but I scaled back my weekly mileage total to 15 miles, with a long run of five miles. That gave me a total of 77.2 miles during twenty runs for the month.
That compared to 90 miles in August, where I ran considerable miles prior to surgery. Still, I felt I was recovering, albeit slowly, especially since I still couldn't do upper body work which put too much strain on my stomach muscles.
September had its pleasures outside of running though. My sister came to visit me and we toured DC a little, going to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum out by Dulles Airpot. I went out to a beer house in the District with a friend on her birthday, had lunch in my town with a former colleague at work, breakfasted in Arlington with a former and future running buddy and his new wife and canvassed door-to-door for the Arlington Democrats.
I looked forward to ramping up my mileage and pace in October and doing some more volunteering in the presidential campaign. Life is running but there are some things that transcend running.
That compared to 90 miles in August, where I ran considerable miles prior to surgery. Still, I felt I was recovering, albeit slowly, especially since I still couldn't do upper body work which put too much strain on my stomach muscles.
September had its pleasures outside of running though. My sister came to visit me and we toured DC a little, going to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum out by Dulles Airpot. I went out to a beer house in the District with a friend on her birthday, had lunch in my town with a former colleague at work, breakfasted in Arlington with a former and future running buddy and his new wife and canvassed door-to-door for the Arlington Democrats.
I looked forward to ramping up my mileage and pace in October and doing some more volunteering in the presidential campaign. Life is running but there are some things that transcend running.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Still Running
Last week I logged 21 miles, with a long run of 10K (6.2 miles). On that run I went on a big loop that took me past some quiet, reflective spots, reminding me why I like the serenity of running.
The next two days I ran 4.5 miles each day, slowly trying to pick up the pace a little. I ran by the nearby party store which is already ramping up for Halloween, it's biggest season. Fall has arrived.
My sister who lives in the midwest visited and we went out to dinner in the district, followed by an evening walk on the Mall. We traversed the Tidal Basin and enjoyed the quiet, reflective beauty of the Jefferson Memorial with the moon hanging over it.
I finished out my running week with two runs of 3 miles on consecutive days, giving me 21 miles for the week. One month after surgery, I'm happy with my progress in coming back, although I still have some discomfort as I heal fully. I was able to spend a day with my sister before she returned home and we walked around DC for awhile, saw the USAF Missing Man Memorial by the Pentagon, had lunch in Falls Church and went out to the Air and Space Museum at Dulles for the afternoon.
The next two days I ran 4.5 miles each day, slowly trying to pick up the pace a little. I ran by the nearby party store which is already ramping up for Halloween, it's biggest season. Fall has arrived.
My sister who lives in the midwest visited and we went out to dinner in the district, followed by an evening walk on the Mall. We traversed the Tidal Basin and enjoyed the quiet, reflective beauty of the Jefferson Memorial with the moon hanging over it.
I finished out my running week with two runs of 3 miles on consecutive days, giving me 21 miles for the week. One month after surgery, I'm happy with my progress in coming back, although I still have some discomfort as I heal fully. I was able to spend a day with my sister before she returned home and we walked around DC for awhile, saw the USAF Missing Man Memorial by the Pentagon, had lunch in Falls Church and went out to the Air and Space Museum at Dulles for the afternoon.
Friday, October 23, 2015
The Commish, Part Three.
It had turned out that my agency's newest Commissioner, who was going to captain our entry into this year's 3-mile Capital Challenge race, was faster than me so her speed work was turned over to the fastest guy on the team who ran with her at least once a week and practiced 3-mile runs in the 24 to 25 minute range. She needed to be encouraged to maintain a fast but steady pace at the start because she had a naturally strong finish at the end of those runs, capable of reverse splits once she had warmed up and caught her second wind during the runs.
I still ran with her, doing a weekday long run of four to five miles with her while she ran once on the weekend on her own. In the limited number of weeks we had before the race to practice with this busy commissioner, who traveled frequently and could only run at odd intervals during the day whenever her schedule allowed it like at 3 pm or sometimes in mid-morning, that was the plan.
It couldn't have been done without Greg, of course, the Federal Tread Company's fast runner who filled in at those oddball hours on short notice and ran fast with the commissioner, training her in fast pacing. I enjoyed my long runs with her where I could keep up with her, talk with her about running and racing techniques and, generally, be as fast or faster than her at the end of those runs because her base was less than mine.
Age and its concomitant wisdom will have its limited advantages over youth and energy. In the meantime I assembled the rest of the team, four fast male runners and the required female runner (the commissioner), one of whom had to be an agency head (the commissioner). (A team from the last decade. Captain of that team, Commissioner Rousch, is # 840 and Greg, the speedster, is between him and me in the center.)
I still ran with her, doing a weekday long run of four to five miles with her while she ran once on the weekend on her own. In the limited number of weeks we had before the race to practice with this busy commissioner, who traveled frequently and could only run at odd intervals during the day whenever her schedule allowed it like at 3 pm or sometimes in mid-morning, that was the plan.
It couldn't have been done without Greg, of course, the Federal Tread Company's fast runner who filled in at those oddball hours on short notice and ran fast with the commissioner, training her in fast pacing. I enjoyed my long runs with her where I could keep up with her, talk with her about running and racing techniques and, generally, be as fast or faster than her at the end of those runs because her base was less than mine.
Age and its concomitant wisdom will have its limited advantages over youth and energy. In the meantime I assembled the rest of the team, four fast male runners and the required female runner (the commissioner), one of whom had to be an agency head (the commissioner). (A team from the last decade. Captain of that team, Commissioner Rousch, is # 840 and Greg, the speedster, is between him and me in the center.)
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Final Dental Visit Post
Having fallen in on my 10 mile run home from the dentist's office on the W&OD Trail with a friend I hadn't seen for years, I passed by my house and went 2 miles further down the trail to retrieve my car. Although I was sore all weekend long from the unfamiliar distance of running 12 miles, I was glad to get a long run of that distance in.
The weather (it was raining and windy) hadn't been a hindrance; I just determined when my dental appointment was over that morning to proceed with my plan and run home. As my new-found friend, a personal trainer, said, You just put one foot in front of the other and you're on your way!
The ten (or twelve as it turned out) miles had been a time of reflection now that my series of dreaded dental visits was over and observation of natural beauty in rural Fairfax County. The feeling of having the miles steadily pass under my feet made me feel invigorated and alive.
It had been a long journey from my my two-year hiatus in running due to injury till now, and now I was back to near my pre-injury weight and my former steady routine of running five times a week, albeit at reduced mileage and a slower pace. I used to feel that running was life, although life is not running (life is more than just running, and it interferes with running sometimes), and I was back to that feeling again.
The weather (it was raining and windy) hadn't been a hindrance; I just determined when my dental appointment was over that morning to proceed with my plan and run home. As my new-found friend, a personal trainer, said, You just put one foot in front of the other and you're on your way!
The ten (or twelve as it turned out) miles had been a time of reflection now that my series of dreaded dental visits was over and observation of natural beauty in rural Fairfax County. The feeling of having the miles steadily pass under my feet made me feel invigorated and alive.
It had been a long journey from my my two-year hiatus in running due to injury till now, and now I was back to near my pre-injury weight and my former steady routine of running five times a week, albeit at reduced mileage and a slower pace. I used to feel that running was life, although life is not running (life is more than just running, and it interferes with running sometimes), and I was back to that feeling again.
Monday, October 12, 2015
Final Dental Visit, Part Ten.
On my long run back to my house from my dentist's office in Reston, I fell in the last couple of miles with a person I hadn't seen in several years, whom I had known from my days when I associated with the DCRRC. I was president in 2009 and she was on the board later, after I left the club over disagreement with the direction the club was headed in under an upstart group of puissant twenty-somethings who constantly disrupted my meetings and surreptitiously usurped my intended programs, out of personal malice towards me fostered by my being twice their age I think.
It was a pleasure to catch up with Stephanie as we loped along eastwards on the W&OD Trail towards Falls Church. She too left the club, after some inane remarks found their way into a Washington Post article about running in the District two years ago by the then-president (the ringleader of the afore-mentionted band of pissants) speaking on behalf of the club and dripping contempt towards "recreational" runners (as opposed to "competitive" runners like himself).
Stephanie is a personal trainer now, working for herself and raising a family, and she was finishing up a 14-miler as she gets ready to run the Richmond Marathon this fall. When I first saw her, she was on the bridge, tongue planted in cheek, filming a weather and traffic report on the approaching hurricane (which hit the Carolinas instead of us) and its impact on traffic on the beltway below (none).
The miles fell away easily now as both of our paces picked up a little in conjunction with keeping up with each other and chatting easily. I decided to turn my 10-miler into a 12-miler to travel further down the trail with her into Arlington so I could pick up my car, which I had parked close to the East Falls Church Metro station when I took the silver line to my dentist's office that morning.
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Final Dental Visit, Part Nine.
I was on a ten-miler going home to Falls Church from Reston down the W&OD Trail from my final of half a dozen dental visits in three months. It was raining, but the run was invigorating as my $6,000 worth of dental procedures, just before my trusted dentist retired later this month, were done!
Eight miles in, as I was wearying, I saw up ahead a solitary runner running about my speed. I caught up with her and lo, she wasn't wearing earbuds.
"How far you going?" I asked. She looked at me and said, "I know you!"
A friendly runner, not wrapped up in his or her little world as is the won't of many contemporary runners these days, excluding everyone else by dint of displaying a white wire running up each side of the neck connected to earbuds nestled deep in the inner recesses of the ears, ostensibly serving up inspiring running music but also effectively shutting out the rest of the world as undesirable. As I have learned, here's how the process of offering a friendly hello to a white-wired runner usually goes--an ignored query, then an annoyed look in your direction (you're into the "exchange" by now, unfortunately), and then a petulant ripping out of the bud from one ear coupled with a clearly exasperated ejaculation of --"What did you say?"
Eight miles in, as I was wearying, I saw up ahead a solitary runner running about my speed. I caught up with her and lo, she wasn't wearing earbuds.
"How far you going?" I asked. She looked at me and said, "I know you!"
A friendly runner, not wrapped up in his or her little world as is the won't of many contemporary runners these days, excluding everyone else by dint of displaying a white wire running up each side of the neck connected to earbuds nestled deep in the inner recesses of the ears, ostensibly serving up inspiring running music but also effectively shutting out the rest of the world as undesirable. As I have learned, here's how the process of offering a friendly hello to a white-wired runner usually goes--an ignored query, then an annoyed look in your direction (you're into the "exchange" by now, unfortunately), and then a petulant ripping out of the bud from one ear coupled with a clearly exasperated ejaculation of --"What did you say?"
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Final Dental Visit, Part Eight.
Having left the dentist's office on a rainy morning and started running ten miles home on the nearby W&OD Trail, I was passing through Vienna, the approximate halfway point. I was getting tired, since I hadn't run more than six miles in quite awhile.
But the run was definitely clearing my head and I enjoyed the quietness on the mostly deserted trail. The rain had let up so even that wasn't a hindrance anymore.
I passed Gallows Road where, the last time I ran seven miles, months ago, I had found the trail after getting lost on Gallows Road on that run last spring, and hoofed it home from there. Next up for me, I knew, was the bridge over the Beltway (I-495) and shortly after that, the bridge over I-66.
I passed over each bridge in turn, now a mere two and a half miles from home. Somebody was up ahead on the last bridge, taking an extended video selfie of her run in the raw elements, and I quickened my pace to catch up with her to see, if she wasn't tucked into her own cocoon of selfhood with earphones, whether she would be good company for a mile or two.
But the run was definitely clearing my head and I enjoyed the quietness on the mostly deserted trail. The rain had let up so even that wasn't a hindrance anymore.
I passed Gallows Road where, the last time I ran seven miles, months ago, I had found the trail after getting lost on Gallows Road on that run last spring, and hoofed it home from there. Next up for me, I knew, was the bridge over the Beltway (I-495) and shortly after that, the bridge over I-66.
I passed over each bridge in turn, now a mere two and a half miles from home. Somebody was up ahead on the last bridge, taking an extended video selfie of her run in the raw elements, and I quickened my pace to catch up with her to see, if she wasn't tucked into her own cocoon of selfhood with earphones, whether she would be good company for a mile or two.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Final Dental Visit, Part Five.
Two of the three teeth waiting for permanent crowns had been anesthetized now, and the dentist and her technician turned to the third, non-deadened tooth to cement its crown into place. The dentist placed the molded porcelain cusp onto the tooth, pushed it down and seemed to be pleased with the fit. Then she pulled it off so the bonding cement could be applied to it.
ZING! I practically leapt out of the chair and the dentist, two of her gloved fingers deep in my mouth holding the little nub of a faux tooth, struggled not to lose her grip on it while it was still in my mouth.
That was the worst jolt yet because the onset of the pain was so sudden, unexpected and intense. She took her fingers, clutching the crown, from my mouth and said, "It's the metal on its base that creates that shock effect on the tooth, but we'll deaden that tooth too before we place it in permanently."
As yet another long needle appeared before my face, I croaked, very earnestly, "I can't wait for my ten-mile run back to my house as soon as I leave here." "In the rain?" she asked.
ZING! I practically leapt out of the chair and the dentist, two of her gloved fingers deep in my mouth holding the little nub of a faux tooth, struggled not to lose her grip on it while it was still in my mouth.
That was the worst jolt yet because the onset of the pain was so sudden, unexpected and intense. She took her fingers, clutching the crown, from my mouth and said, "It's the metal on its base that creates that shock effect on the tooth, but we'll deaden that tooth too before we place it in permanently."
As yet another long needle appeared before my face, I croaked, very earnestly, "I can't wait for my ten-mile run back to my house as soon as I leave here." "In the rain?" she asked.
Monday, October 5, 2015
Final Dental Visit, Part Three.
A little background on my final dental visit this year (hopefully). In any case, come the thirty-first of this month, I'll have to find a new dentist if the need for further dental work comes up because that's when my dentist is retiring.
Friday was a miserable day, raining, with the DC area awaiting the possible approach or arrival of Hurricane Joachim, and did I mention that the dentist's office is at MP 17 of the W&OD Trail and my house is at MP 7? Yes I did in a previous post about my dental visits, and I showed up for this final appointment in my running togs with a Metro card (I took Metro to the visit), a credit card (to put the couple thousand plus "change" charge on) and a bottle of water.
Back to the action in the dentist's chair--after a come-to-Jesus moment when the tech removed the first temporary crown with her prongee, she placed the permanent crown on and it fit in nicely. Maybe it'd be alright after all, I thought.
I still hadn't found the rear exit in the back of the chair, though. It turned out that I really should have known where it was.
Friday was a miserable day, raining, with the DC area awaiting the possible approach or arrival of Hurricane Joachim, and did I mention that the dentist's office is at MP 17 of the W&OD Trail and my house is at MP 7? Yes I did in a previous post about my dental visits, and I showed up for this final appointment in my running togs with a Metro card (I took Metro to the visit), a credit card (to put the couple thousand plus "change" charge on) and a bottle of water.
Back to the action in the dentist's chair--after a come-to-Jesus moment when the tech removed the first temporary crown with her prongee, she placed the permanent crown on and it fit in nicely. Maybe it'd be alright after all, I thought.
I still hadn't found the rear exit in the back of the chair, though. It turned out that I really should have known where it was.
Friday, October 2, 2015
Final Dental Visit
In my imagination, I'm in Dr. Lipscome's dental office alone on Staten Island as a 10-year old boy over half a century ago, getting seven cavities filled without Novocaine or a parent present; this is not so uncommon back then, either the shocking lack of sedation as teeth are drilled or the lack of a parent accompaniment, as confirmed by friends my age from the same region. It manifested itself in my psyche when I became an adult as a refusal to go to a dentist unless it was absolutely necessary.
But stuff happens with your teeth. It's even promoted these days that you should go get your teeth cleaned twice a year (!) by persons who scrape sharp-pointed metal prongs around your teeth.
Ever felt that metal pronger touch somewhere on a naked tooth that produces the Jolt even if you are sedated? The sudden pain is enough to catapult you out of your seat.
Now well into the next century, no dentist would go any further when he or she sees you jerk in pain without stopping and shooting you up with more with Novocain, and then waiting for it to take effect. Today I went to the dentist to have three permanent crowns emplaced.
But stuff happens with your teeth. It's even promoted these days that you should go get your teeth cleaned twice a year (!) by persons who scrape sharp-pointed metal prongs around your teeth.
Ever felt that metal pronger touch somewhere on a naked tooth that produces the Jolt even if you are sedated? The sudden pain is enough to catapult you out of your seat.
Now well into the next century, no dentist would go any further when he or she sees you jerk in pain without stopping and shooting you up with more with Novocain, and then waiting for it to take effect. Today I went to the dentist to have three permanent crowns emplaced.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
So We Trained
I developed a plan for training for the half marathon coming up in mid-September, really I did. It just had no wiggle room, and reality intruded. (This is when I fell the first time. I was so busy taking pictures during a "Run with a Kenyan" run on the Mall during the African festival there that I tripped on an uneven sidewalk and went down hard.)
I had a base already of around six miles. In my twenty-week plan, as I used to do when coaching, I ran the weekly long runs "up the scale" from six miles to thirteen by race day, with step-backs every three weeks for consolidation purposes, as the following chart shows, each number representing miles for the long run on the weekend: 6-7-8,-7-8-9,-8-9-10,-9-10-11,-10-11-12,-11-12-13,-8 (taper)-race. Plus of course running the normal shorter runs of 2-6 miles two to four times a week. (One of the short runs during the week. We turned down the offer of a free Yo-Yo because it didn't seem like a good running snack and we didn't think the package would stand up to four miles in a sweaty palm or pocket.)
But naturally life intruded. We've been really busy at work, doing more with less. Lia, my running buddy & race partner, has children who need care, of course. Our other race partner had setbacks which impacted her running. I fell while running in DC and bloodied myself. I fell while running in Portland and bloodied myself. My knee swelled up on a long run and I took a week off. I developed bursitis in my left knee, possibly as a result of the torque my leg underwent when I tripped while running those two times I fell, and I took another week off. I started running with a knee brace in addition to my ankle brace and gobbled ibuprofen before each run. (In Portland, I crashed into an unexpected mid-street curb that put me down.)
But WTH, I lined up on race day. And despite the set-backs and anxiety that I wouldn't be ready, the journey to the starting line, those twenty weeks of preparation involving both highs and lows, was worth everything to me in my return to running. (Ready to Rumble on Raceday.)
But naturally life intruded. We've been really busy at work, doing more with less. Lia, my running buddy & race partner, has children who need care, of course. Our other race partner had setbacks which impacted her running. I fell while running in DC and bloodied myself. I fell while running in Portland and bloodied myself. My knee swelled up on a long run and I took a week off. I developed bursitis in my left knee, possibly as a result of the torque my leg underwent when I tripped while running those two times I fell, and I took another week off. I started running with a knee brace in addition to my ankle brace and gobbled ibuprofen before each run. (In Portland, I crashed into an unexpected mid-street curb that put me down.)
But WTH, I lined up on race day. And despite the set-backs and anxiety that I wouldn't be ready, the journey to the starting line, those twenty weeks of preparation involving both highs and lows, was worth everything to me in my return to running. (Ready to Rumble on Raceday.)
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Shoes
I started running again in 2011 after taking two years off from running when I got injured, a cumulative, debilitating ankle injury (an "extra bone" in my left foot which was abrading my tibial tendon) after almost a decade of highly satisfying recreational running during the new millennium during which I dropped 50 pounds and had a lot of life changes, most for the better. This period of rebirth can be told in running shoes, mostly Aisics although some pairs of shoes were Brooks'.
I used to run 30-40 miles per week and go through three or four pairs of shoes a year. So when I laid off running in 2009 for two years, I had a backlog of about six pairs of running shoes I'd purchased on discount sites.
When I came back in 2011, I opened a pair of Brooks Addiction as my main shoes and ran through two pairs of leftover used running shoes as well. In 2012 the process was exactly the same. Now I had integrated two new pairs of shoes into my bigger system of ready running shoes and gotten rid of four thoroughly worn out pairs.
In 2013 I opened a pair of Aisics Foundations, but alas they were size 12 1/2 and I absolutely am not that size anymore. They hurt my big toes and I only ran in them two or three times and wore them walking about occasionally. What do you do with new shoes that don't fit and you can't return? Anyway, two more used pairs of shoes went out and I used up a seldom-used pair of Reeboks that were hardly ever used because they're ugly and I never trusted their structure. However they did fine until they literally fell apart on my feet and now they're my knockabout shoes.
Two days ago I opened a pair of Aisic Evolutions, size 13, and they're sharp looking and fit great. My last two runs have been dreamy, with my feet feeling like they're wearing pillows. 2014 is going to be a great running year.
I used to run 30-40 miles per week and go through three or four pairs of shoes a year. So when I laid off running in 2009 for two years, I had a backlog of about six pairs of running shoes I'd purchased on discount sites.
When I came back in 2011, I opened a pair of Brooks Addiction as my main shoes and ran through two pairs of leftover used running shoes as well. In 2012 the process was exactly the same. Now I had integrated two new pairs of shoes into my bigger system of ready running shoes and gotten rid of four thoroughly worn out pairs.
In 2013 I opened a pair of Aisics Foundations, but alas they were size 12 1/2 and I absolutely am not that size anymore. They hurt my big toes and I only ran in them two or three times and wore them walking about occasionally. What do you do with new shoes that don't fit and you can't return? Anyway, two more used pairs of shoes went out and I used up a seldom-used pair of Reeboks that were hardly ever used because they're ugly and I never trusted their structure. However they did fine until they literally fell apart on my feet and now they're my knockabout shoes.
Two days ago I opened a pair of Aisic Evolutions, size 13, and they're sharp looking and fit great. My last two runs have been dreamy, with my feet feeling like they're wearing pillows. 2014 is going to be a great running year.
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Seven Miles
This week I ran five days and went 25 miles. That's the furthest I've gone in a week for at least nine months, maybe for two or three years.
My running is in a sweet spot right now. I've been keeping my chronic left ankle injury in check (an "extra bone" in my foot which abrades the tibial tendon) and have been slowly, very slowly, pushing my total miles each week out past about twenty miles per week. I have permanently reduced my pace.
I've also dipped out of the Clydesdale class, hopefully for good, after several years of being so overweight I was approaching obesity, brought on by two years of not running when I developed a cumulative injury in 2009 after nine wonderful years of running "fast" and "far" (it's all relative).
Today I ran seven miles on the W&OD Trail with a friend from work, the furthest I've run since late 2011 when I topped out at an eight-mile run and a nine-mile run before falling back to long runs of under six miles for the next two years. In the good ol' days I could run 12 miles in the morning and throw down a 24-minute 5K race in the early evening.
I picked up my running buddy and put the top down in my newly purchased used convertible which another friend from work laughingly calls my "roadster." But it only has 11,500 miles on it and it's sharp so I love it.
And I like my running buddy too because we can talk shop on our runs, she's smart and she offers me advice on things. She doesn't know American pop culture in the same sense that I "know" it because when I say things like, "What we have here is a failure to communicate" or "We need a bigger boat," she doesn't know what I'm talking about, but I think that's an age thing because those are movie quotes that go back a long way.
We drove to MP 3.5 on the trail and set out for its eastern end as my friend's getting ready for a HM in six weeks and her schedule called for a 7-mile LSD. That's apparently within my conditioning, and hers, as the run went fine.
The W&OD is flat, being a paved-over railroad bed, although I found a couple of short, sharp hills (spurs off and onto the trail) for us to run on. We huffed and puffed along and reached the turnaround in Shirlington at MP 0 in 36:50 which included at least two 30-second stops at intersections. A ten-minute per mile pace was more than satisfactory.
We lost a minute on a water break at the turnaround and then came back the hard way after being held up for a minute or more at at least two more intersections, by cutting across Four Mile Run (a creek) to the Four-Mile Trail, which runs parallel to the W&OD across the way. That trail is much narrower, rarely used and extremely hilly. My workmate doggedly kept on going up hill and down dale, and we finished our seven miles in 1:21:38 after a detour to peer into a parked classic VW Beetle and a water break after a killer hill. She's a good sport and didn't complain about my "diversion" to the "far side."
It was far from a negative split but I think it was an excellent, adventurous run which is what I love about running. As for me, I'm thinking about doing a HM in the fall.
My running is in a sweet spot right now. I've been keeping my chronic left ankle injury in check (an "extra bone" in my foot which abrades the tibial tendon) and have been slowly, very slowly, pushing my total miles each week out past about twenty miles per week. I have permanently reduced my pace.
I've also dipped out of the Clydesdale class, hopefully for good, after several years of being so overweight I was approaching obesity, brought on by two years of not running when I developed a cumulative injury in 2009 after nine wonderful years of running "fast" and "far" (it's all relative).
Today I ran seven miles on the W&OD Trail with a friend from work, the furthest I've run since late 2011 when I topped out at an eight-mile run and a nine-mile run before falling back to long runs of under six miles for the next two years. In the good ol' days I could run 12 miles in the morning and throw down a 24-minute 5K race in the early evening.
I picked up my running buddy and put the top down in my newly purchased used convertible which another friend from work laughingly calls my "roadster." But it only has 11,500 miles on it and it's sharp so I love it.
And I like my running buddy too because we can talk shop on our runs, she's smart and she offers me advice on things. She doesn't know American pop culture in the same sense that I "know" it because when I say things like, "What we have here is a failure to communicate" or "We need a bigger boat," she doesn't know what I'm talking about, but I think that's an age thing because those are movie quotes that go back a long way.
We drove to MP 3.5 on the trail and set out for its eastern end as my friend's getting ready for a HM in six weeks and her schedule called for a 7-mile LSD. That's apparently within my conditioning, and hers, as the run went fine.
The W&OD is flat, being a paved-over railroad bed, although I found a couple of short, sharp hills (spurs off and onto the trail) for us to run on. We huffed and puffed along and reached the turnaround in Shirlington at MP 0 in 36:50 which included at least two 30-second stops at intersections. A ten-minute per mile pace was more than satisfactory.
We lost a minute on a water break at the turnaround and then came back the hard way after being held up for a minute or more at at least two more intersections, by cutting across Four Mile Run (a creek) to the Four-Mile Trail, which runs parallel to the W&OD across the way. That trail is much narrower, rarely used and extremely hilly. My workmate doggedly kept on going up hill and down dale, and we finished our seven miles in 1:21:38 after a detour to peer into a parked classic VW Beetle and a water break after a killer hill. She's a good sport and didn't complain about my "diversion" to the "far side."
It was far from a negative split but I think it was an excellent, adventurous run which is what I love about running. As for me, I'm thinking about doing a HM in the fall.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Back to Basics
So I went to church, and listened to a sermon about Jesus knowing how he would handle the 5,000 ravished hopefuls coming to listen to him preach but as the horde approached, he tested his apostle Phillip,. What should we do, he asked?
Phillip bemoaned being able to feed the advancing hungry horde but Andrew said there was a boy who had 5 loaves and two fishes and that's a start. That's Andrew's Way, that you have more than you think for starters (we know how Jesus was able to make the loaves and fish be enough for all).
Interestingly, afterwards as I walked out of the building I encountered an Eastern Orthodox woman from Russia who wanted to attend a service in the historic Falls Church. I introduced her to the reigning priest and went home.
With all that exhausting work behind me, I settled in to watch the Olympics on TV. Women's cycling, volleyball, swimming qualifying heats. I could care less about that stuff, so at 11:30 am I bestirred myself, turned off the boob tube, changed and went to the curb.
There's a five-mile loop around my greater neighborhood that I used to run often, back in the olden times. Back then I could usually break 45 minutes and I liked to get it around 42 minutes.
I started out in the noontime heat and humidity, thinking that was a good choice. For the first mile, I went through all kinds of scenarios as to why I should make this a mile run, or a 2K run or an indeterminate run out the W&OD Trail.
I got past those negative thoughts however and my breathing regulated and got less ragged as I committed to the run. At two miles I came upon a man standing by his fence line three feet off the sidewalk using a large watering wand to inundate his flowers.
"Hit me!" I cried out to him as I ran towards him, pointing to the copious water flow emanating from the hose nozzle. He looked at me in confusion.
I gave him a circular motion with my hand, miming water cascading over my overheated body. He didn't get it till I was past when he suddenly understood and held up the gushing nozzle but I was already heading away from him and not about to stop.
At three miles I ran by the county golf course and the mini-golf range with its rushing-about children talking excitedly. This was a hill up and this took me from the shade of the sidewalks to the sunlight of the road's shoulder.
I was tiring by the fourth mile which I passed at 40:15. One mile out, a large downhill in front of me fronted by and finished by a couple of short uphills, I tried to air it out a little so I could break 50 minutes. I had to make up 15 seconds though to do this.
I turned onto my block and then sprinted the last 100 yards to stop my watch at the return to my driveway at 49:59.20 for five miles. Yes!
Phillip bemoaned being able to feed the advancing hungry horde but Andrew said there was a boy who had 5 loaves and two fishes and that's a start. That's Andrew's Way, that you have more than you think for starters (we know how Jesus was able to make the loaves and fish be enough for all).
Interestingly, afterwards as I walked out of the building I encountered an Eastern Orthodox woman from Russia who wanted to attend a service in the historic Falls Church. I introduced her to the reigning priest and went home.
With all that exhausting work behind me, I settled in to watch the Olympics on TV. Women's cycling, volleyball, swimming qualifying heats. I could care less about that stuff, so at 11:30 am I bestirred myself, turned off the boob tube, changed and went to the curb.
There's a five-mile loop around my greater neighborhood that I used to run often, back in the olden times. Back then I could usually break 45 minutes and I liked to get it around 42 minutes.
I started out in the noontime heat and humidity, thinking that was a good choice. For the first mile, I went through all kinds of scenarios as to why I should make this a mile run, or a 2K run or an indeterminate run out the W&OD Trail.
I got past those negative thoughts however and my breathing regulated and got less ragged as I committed to the run. At two miles I came upon a man standing by his fence line three feet off the sidewalk using a large watering wand to inundate his flowers.
"Hit me!" I cried out to him as I ran towards him, pointing to the copious water flow emanating from the hose nozzle. He looked at me in confusion.
I gave him a circular motion with my hand, miming water cascading over my overheated body. He didn't get it till I was past when he suddenly understood and held up the gushing nozzle but I was already heading away from him and not about to stop.
At three miles I ran by the county golf course and the mini-golf range with its rushing-about children talking excitedly. This was a hill up and this took me from the shade of the sidewalks to the sunlight of the road's shoulder.
I was tiring by the fourth mile which I passed at 40:15. One mile out, a large downhill in front of me fronted by and finished by a couple of short uphills, I tried to air it out a little so I could break 50 minutes. I had to make up 15 seconds though to do this.
I turned onto my block and then sprinted the last 100 yards to stop my watch at the return to my driveway at 49:59.20 for five miles. Yes!
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