Running some

Once my eye woes were behind me, come May 1st, I started easing back into running with a slow, gradual buildup because I knew to try to do too much too soon would send me back to the couch, where I'd been for two years due to my serious health issues (an achilles strain and then a retina detachment leading to four eye surgeries to save the sight, sort of, in my affected eye).  I mapped out three runs per week (which I'm still adhering to religiously), starting out at half-mile runs.

I couldn't even do a half-mile run that first run (or rather, slow jog) but now, five months later, I'm up to 12 miles a week, with 10 pounds melted off and more importantly, I'm adamant about running three times each week, and doing my prescribed mileage, without shirking any runs as the seven days of each week pass by immutably.  This week I did 5 miles, 4 miles and then 3.1 miles (5K), at a pace averaging out at 11-12 miles per minute.

Lordy, it's hard.  I'm so overweight and I feel so old and unmoving.

This week though was indicative that I'm progressing, albeit slowly--5 hilly miles in 61 minutes (12+ pace), 4 hilly miles in 45 minutes (11+ pace) and a 5K today in 36 minutes (12 pace, but it included 2 minutes lost in the town library while I returned some books and slurped cool water from their water fountain).  Tomorrow I am signed up for a 5K race.

A mile

It wasn't much of a run, only a solitary single mile in the 'hood.  I covered it in about 13 minutes, extraordinary slow even for my age, wherein I'll be full-retirement eligible for social security in a matter of weeks.  The notable thing to me was that it was a non-stop mile, the first non-stop mile that I had done in ten months, and I even broke a sweat during it in the unseasonably temperate 52 degree weather.

It might be a start to a return to what passes for fitness, at least I certainly hope so.  My plan is to do a mile three times a week for a couple of weeks and then start bumping up the mileage from there.  I well remember from my coaching days the dictum of only increasing mileage each week by ten percent, lest you court injury.

In a nod to my constant ankle woes these days, which threw me off of all running during the past year, I wore braces on both ankles and even stretched both achilles tendons before and after the jog.  I resisted succumbing to the constant warnings flitting through my mind even as I was huffing and puffing while I plodded along that I could feel twinges in both achilles and the ignored the mental commands to stop before I became a candidate for The Boot again.  The finish point of my lumber, my driveway on the short out-and-back jaunt, came into view a block away yet seemed to be receding instead of coming closer as I ran towards it.

But I made it to driveway finally, happy that I'd met my first (very modest) running goal this year, and I stopped gratefully and went inside the house, wheezing.  My run of about a mile and a half with my friend in the District a couple of days earlier was a good beginning but it was full of starts and stops, so this little outing was an immeasurably better start to my hopeful return to form, plus I was alone and thus more inclined to agree with my frantic, oxygen-deprived brain and slow to a walk somewhere during the second half of the barely elevated perambulation.  We'll see if this is truly the beginning of my return to good times.

The last year...

I recently had a birthday and observed another year of my life passing by. A decade ago I started running and dropped a lot of weight and changed my life. I stuck with it and thrived, becoming training director for my running club and then president. Great things seemed to be beckoning.

Six months ago I resigned as president after a short tenure due to an inability to get information on suspicious occurrences that centered around the club's IT department and after a series of shocking affronts directed at me personally by the arrogant young turks controlling that department (these alpha 20-somethings disliked me intensely) who were joined by a 30-something lapdog of a VP who was disgruntled with me. These boys were and are in a position of absolute power in the club and were up to no good, in my opinion. They were implacable and insurmountable. Hey, it was a volunteer position, for chrissakes. I am no longer a member of the club and although I wish it well, it needs good luck more than good wishes.

This unpleasantness coincided with an injury that has prevented me from running for the last half year. The weight I kept off for a decade has largely returned. With the aid of a soft "boot type" brace, I have attempted to get back into running, but I can barely run a mile anymore before I feel like I'm going to expire.

It hasn't been a good year, but running teaches you to deal with adversity. Reality is very precise.

Reset

In 2008 I got swept up in Obama's rhetoric for change and hope. I wasn't for Obama initially, because I thought he was too inexperienced, but I came around as the campaign progressed.

He's intellectual and he speaks so well! Complex problems, you would suppose, demand complex solutions. He could do that.

Then I said hello to some Tea Party types on the Mall. Tea Baggers. When I was a cop, we talked about dirt baggers. These particular tea baggers quickly offered to stick their "Don't Tread On Me" flagpole up my, well... . Ehh, not too intellectual, that bunch.

Anyway, a year later, where are we except a year recovered from the Decider? (Thank goodness.)

Back to re-set, I think. If Obama was my laptop, I'd turn it off, remove the battery for ten seconds, then put it back in and restart it.

An African-American President, an idealist, a Democrat, a brilliant guy. Which former president is Obama most like? Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, JFK?

It hit me. He's like Woodrow Wilson. An idealist, a Democrat, winner of the nobel peace prize, a war president, a brilliant guy. He expounded the Fourteen Points upon which to end WWI, that would lead to world harmony. (Go ahead, name even one of the Fourteen Points.)

The French leader Georges Clemenceau privately complained that even God Almighty only espoused ten principles. The Senate rejected the Treaty of Versailles ending WWI, and the League of Nations failed.

Wilson had potential but got nothing done. An historical non-entity.

Starting Over Again

You gotta read Not Born To Run's latest post, although you won't find it on her blog. It's called Starting Over, that's what it's about, and you'll find it here. She's a brilliant writer so she describes it much better than I can. But here's what I think about starting over in running as synonymous with life.

Jeanne speaks words of wisdom. I wish her a rapid return to running.

When I started running seven years ago, I was brought to a screeching halt twice by, of all things, tendonitis in a single toe. The layoffs were a year apart. The only remedy each time was six weeks rest. Nothing else helped. (Thank you Dr. Lee.)

I chafed at the inactivity. Since I didn't practice yoga at the time, I did nothing. But when the six weeks was up, I had a hard time getting back to running.

I dreaded going out to start a run. I had gotten away from carving time for a run out of my busy day. I'd lost all my prior fitness. I had to go through that unpleasant feeling of oxygen-deprivation during my first few runs back. I didn't like it anymore. I had to start over.

But you know what those enticements to lethargy were? Excuses. A lack of will and a diminution of self-esteem. I felt like giving up because it was too hard. So what if I returned to being overweight and just sinking down on the couch, shut up in my house alone, to watch TV. Hey, it's March Madness time. A game is on somewhere.

But I got through my doubts and lassitude. I found discipline and exerted patience. I didn't ruin running for myself by being stupid about starting over. I refrained from running impulsively or compulsively at the beginning and re-injuring myself.

I ran once in week seven. I ran twice in week eight. I ran three times in my third week back. By the end of the month I was back to running regularly five times a week and feeling good about myself. I honored my body with a little fitness.

I did this twice, coming back from a forced lay-off. But I only had to come back from a little pain in a solitary toe. Jeanne has to come back from surgery. I know Jeanne and she'll be back better than ever.