Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Heading Out

Well the last of the details is, hopefully, finished:
  • Breakfast with AM, Steven and five-year-old Maggie this a.m. : story reading to Maggie, listening to the kids' research summary and planning for their upcoming Newfoundland trip, reading to Maggie, hearing about the kids' canoe trip yesterday, and hearing Maggie's newest story. Maggie also had written (with Mommy's help) a story for me and made me a card. I'll miss Maggie as much as she'll miss me. And the kids will miss me, too; they just show it much differently than Maggie's insistent begging for attention demonstrated.
  • Went to the bank, decided all other pondered errands could just wait.
  • Packed my race bag and my trip bag. Having done an overnight in Charlottesville served as training for this experience, and this packing job went much better than the Charlottesville one. AM had to help me last time, as I was just too overwhelmed with the excitement of NY visitors and the details of an overnighter plus race gear to figure it out.
  • Picked up six-year-old Eliza at school, and took her with Butch and me to pick up the rental car. Then Butch finished up mowing at church while Eliza and I went for ice cream. Afterward Eliza went through my bag and made sure nothing was forgotten, and that all clothing was sorted into outfits appropriate for each planned activity. She enjoys helping with details, and I sure did appreciate having her check that nothing was forgotten.
  • Took Eliza home; and then packed up the rental car with gear, maps and snacks; and made supper.
  • E-mail AM with instructions to drink the milk in the fridge and eat whatever else is in there and check on my plants.
  • Turned in the rough draft of my syllabus for class, which starts the day I get back; and did some editing for another job.
  • Set my alarm for 4:30 a.m., and laid out tomorrow's clothes. I may be on my feet at that time, but still be asleep when I dress and head out the door.

It's been a long time since I had a near-week-long real vacation. I've almost forgotten what preparations are needed. If I've forgotten to do something, well, it's just too late now.

Three Days - 43 miles

My running buddy and I have traversed 43 miles in three days using no gas but lots of fuel!
Saturday was a 10-mile race; and then we spent two days cross-training - a 23.5 mile bike ride on Sunday and a 10-mile run-hike combination yesterday. This cross-training actually has two purposes: recovery and preparation for a 20K Dam to Dam in Des Moines on Saturday and physically depleting myself enough that I'll be able to sit in a "tin can" during a 16-hours drive without going stir crazy (no small task for an adult with ADHD).
Figuring out the logistics for a 20K in another state has been a challenge. There's the usual travel preparations: stopping the mail, getting cash from the bank, packing a travel bag, renting a car . . .
But then there's the other running-centered details such as figuring out when to do the pre-race runs amidst a 16-hour car ride; packing a separate race bag for the race day with the appropriate race-day running attire (what will it be like Saturday?), race "fuel", shoes, bib pins, stop watch . . .
Then there's the runner's diet. Everything that enters the runner's body is measured against the energy being expended. So the travel food has to be healthy and calorie appropriate, yet also motoring friendly. And my traveling companion and I neither one plan to spend any time seated in a restaurant!
The long car ride out will end at my baby brother's home in Davenport. As we talked on the phone the other day, he started to ask about my needs. And then, since he knows me all too well, he said something like, "Never mind. . .you'll be running the minute you pull in." I laughed and said, "Yup, so I hope you're ready!"
Well that's one training run I won't have to worry about -- he'll run, too. So we'll have a family reunion, release from ADHD and cabin fever, and a pre-race easy run all at the same time. Another logistical detail cared for; a myriad of others left to go.

Old Rag -- The Summit

Another spot in the Rock Scramble at Old Rag. There's a blue spot on the boulder on the far right; that's to indicate that hikers are to crawl up and through the crevice immediately to the left where the shadow is.
View from The Summit. . .
The hike downhill from here was painful as it wasn't just a gradual, winding slope down. Instead there were rock stairs, or boulders to scoot, jump or step from. After the strenuous climb up, any jump or step down sent a current of pain through my overworked leg bones and into my hips. So at each "drop" I'd find myself thinking, "Which will hurt less here. . .a jump, step or scootch."
Both Butch and I were quite grateful when the trail smoothed into a gradual slope and we could run past several pods of hikers on the last three miles to the upper parking lot. Believe it or not, a run can be a welcome break from hours of hiking -- running uses different muscles. When we reached the upper parking lot, we opted to cool down by a quick walk and those we had passed earlier all made comments to the effect of, "How far did you two run?" "Did you run the whole thing?" For a split second I wondered why they noticed us, just a couple fellow hikers. And then it dawned on me. Butch had taken a tumble at the very start of the run, and had a stream of blood running from both knees to his calves.

Midway Up Old Rag Mountain.

Butch and I ran one mile from the parking lot to the base of the trail at Old Rag Mountain, and then began climbing. . .the above photo is near the midway point of the 7.2 mile trail.
One of the views of the "Rock Scramble," which I think is a bit of a misnomer. We had to climb a series of boulders the size of the one in the center of this photo and wriggle through crevaces to get through what I would have called the "Rock Climb". Fortunately this part of the 5-hour hike only took about an hour or so, I'm guessing. Some of the footholds and handholds were just far enough apart that I needed a boost or a pull; and so did Butch. So we leapfrogged through this section.
Another photo of the midway point . . .we climbed some of these boulders and climbed up the side of this mountain.

The "Toad" on Old Rag Mountain

Doesn't this rock look like a gigunda prehistoric toad?

Stone Pavillion - Endless Caverns


Cycled 23.5 miles on Sunday afternoon and stopped about midway for a break here at the entrance to Endless Caverns. If you click on the top photo and get a closer view, you can see a stone "balcony" above the entrance to this pavillion.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Gillies-McCracken Competition Takes a Hiatus


George Gillies, my racing competitor, is on the far right. The photo was taken last fall at the 116th Infantry Race in Staunton, Virginia, by his wife Melanie B. Gillies. The others in the photo are Rich Ruozzi, SVTC Club President; Jeff Campbell; and Butch Proctor, now club vice president.
Scenes from the Mountain Valley 10 Miler Race Course.--Photos by Joseph Rudmin

As I've said before in this blog, George Gillies, a researcher, and I have been "competing" at the finish line for the last several races, beginning a few weeks ago when he "cut me off" and won a race by mere seconds. At the Half Marathon, I beat him by several minutes (he had lung issues). And then he beat me soundly at the next competition. And yesterday, in Keezletown at the Mountain Valley 10 Miler (a SVTC club-sponsored race), there we were at the starting line once again. He lagged behind, chatting with an injured friend and my race and running partner, for the first mile. I settled into a comfortable pace. Then shortly after mile two, he ran up alongside me. Race pace racheted up a notch. George was tired, having just run a Half in Fargo the week before; and I wanted to reserve some energy for the Dam to Dam in Des Moines next week.
A gentleman from Grottoes joined us; someone who had finished about the same time as me at the Half in Charlottesville, though I didn't catch his name or his exact place. Grottoes, George and I ran miles two through five, maybe even six, together. They had not run this particular course, so I had the rare joy of sharing the challenges and helping them plan. We turned the corner at mile 3.
"And NOW the race begins," I said.
We had reached the Goliath of this course -- a hill snaking up about 290 feet over a half mile. No conversation now. . .just the three of us in a line, slogging along the worst of this 10 mile course. About mile 6 the hills ended, and we ran down to a stop sign. Grottoes moved ahead. George and I chattered back and forth, a phrase at a time between gasps for air. His story parallels mine -- an accident with a semi, a punctured lung and other injuries, a walking routine and then running to heal and build up lung capacity to compensate for scars, and a new appreciation for relationship and life, a story I don't yet have permission to tell. The story was the highlight of the race, however, reminding me of my purpose, renewing my enthusiasm, and revisiting the foundational principals of faith and hope. Grounding. Centering. Once again, running and racing had become a metaphor for life.
Near mile 8, a short, but steep, hill loomed.
"Is that the hill you mentioned earlier?" George asked.
I chuckled and said, "Yup. . .no biggie, it just feels like it because of its place in the course."
The holy encounter with the Holy had passed; it was time now to turn the corner and "head home." Our history dictated that one of us should pick up the pace a bit and then, at the very end, one of us should fight for the finish. And we did; but not at race pace. Instead we just ran side by side, breathing hard, saying little . . . I matched my pace to his; fighting for the strength to stay alongside.
"We should at least fake a photo finish, don't you think?" I asked.
"Yes, we should," he said.
The last corner. He ran ahead for a few yards. I struggled to catch him. But then, I am sure he glanced back and then slowed down a bit -- on purpose -- to let me catch up. And so we took the final corner together, and headed down into the shoot side by side.
"Give me your hand," he said.
I did, and he raised both just as we shot through the finish -- to the cheers of a handful of spectators. A photo finish indeed -- two competitors side-by-side, hands joined in the air.
"Put Anieta first," Karen, the time keeper said.
And so, according to SVTC history, I beat George Gillies by a second at the Mountain Valley Ten Miler. But here in blog history is the rest of the story.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Geezer Pacers on a City to Trail Run

On Tuesdays I run with a club of anywhere from 10 to 15 members. Oftentimes there are three groups -- fast, middlins' and the geezers at the rear (that would be my group!). And usually we leave Runners Corner in that order. Sometimes our routes take us on a loop around one of the area parks, and we geezers will watch the fast runners going the opposite direction pass us at least twice (they often do two circles in the time it takes us to do one). But just as often, we end up going one way while they take another, longer route.

And so last night, knowing our pace would not hinder the faster runners should they choose another route, the Geezers (plus one newbie) took off first.

To the cheers of "Geezer Pacers Begin," we headed off, with Jeff Campbell leading the pack at a very good (race pace for me) clip. The faster runners headed on their own run, passing us within a few blocks of the start. And somewhere along the way we lost our geezer pace setter, who had looped back to the start after two to three miles. The rest of us though managed to maintain his lead through the arboretum -- sloshing through wet and freshly laid woodchips along the park's trail, and jumping over fallen branches from an apparent recent storm. Several times my ankles twisted on unseen dips, twigs and hazards. Each time I'd feel a foot slip, I'd yank that foot back and slam down the other in an effort to stay upright. In spite of the terrain, we geezers and the newbie maintained a pace close to 9 minute miles. Mine was 8:47.

And so ended what will most likely be the most aggressive training run of the week for an awful lot of us who are recovering and resting for the Mountain Valley 10 Mile Run on Saturday; and for the club's ultramarathoner who plans a 20-hour, 100 mile run this weekend.

Sunday Morning "Goin' ta Meetin' "Clothes

After cleaning up the tent site, the girls and I scurried to my apartment, washed camp smoke out of our hair and off our skin, and then dressed in our "going ta meetin' clothes," as the mountain folk would say. Hair still wet, but squeaky clean, we posed for some quick photographs.


Sisters all ready to visit Gramma Nete's church.
Maggie & Grammie (photo by Eliza Grace - age 6).

--photo by Butch Proctor.

Magdalena's First Photograph


Magdalena's (age 5) first photograph taken after the first camping trip after the first S'mores of the season.

S'mores

The little girls toast marshmallows for S'mores in a firepit created, at Eliza's suggestion, from cobblestones gathered from the kids drainage ditch out back of the house. This campsite, however, was NOT within site of the house, but way out in the back 40, in the woods that is a part of their two-acre property.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Waiting for Breakfast...first campout of the season

After toasting marshmallows on the campfire for S'mores Saturday night, the girls fell asleep almost immediately once tucked in their blankets out in the woods alongside their house. But then they awoke hungry at about 6:00 a.m. Sunday morning. Here they snuggle in my sleeping bag after chowing on cheese curls, scrambled eggs with cheese, and a couple more toasted marshmallows. Their mom and dad forgave me since I was the one that had to corral them during church afterward!

The Legend. . .

About 80 of us registered at the table shown above for "one of the most challenging races in the region," stated the web site for the Batesville 10K (6.2 miles) on Saturday, the 17th. After registering, the race began about a half mile UP the road from here, and then climbed and climbed along a road along the top of the ridge (photo below). This race is referred to as "'the legend' because of its steep switchbacking climb over a good percentage of the first half of the race."
And I did it in 58 minutes, which was fast enough to put me in first place for my age and gender group. The climb wasn't so bad. It left me winded, but I'm used to climbing hills now. What got me was the steady downhill, steep enough that I felt I'd fall on my face and found myself applying the brakes to slow my running-fall down the mountain again. I escaped uninjured except for a long scratch and bruise along my left calf muscle, an injury incurred while trying to find a private place BEFORE the race and after, I presume, an encounter with one of the many blackberry bushes. I ended up jumping a creek to handle my need and, then, on the way back to the starting line, I saw a porta-potty hidden in one corner of the race area!
About 48 hours later, my left thigh muscle is announcing its presence very clearly. And on Monday's easy recovery run, an old hip injury pinched and squeaked. This is a race that I definitely want to put on my annual events list though.


Monday, May 12, 2008

13 Days to a Day of Rest

Just completed, on Friday, thirteen straight days of exercise without a rest day. Normally I run four days a week, and my goal (though seldom seen to fruition), is to cross-train two other days, for a total of six days of exercise and one total rest day per week.

But my drug of choice, and source of solace and answers to life's downers is exercise, preferably running. An unexpected downturn led to the thirteen-day streak --63 cycling miles, 38 running miles and 9 hours of landscaping. On the thirteenth day, I ran 10 hilly miles through mountain views, along meandering streams, past pastureland with cows, goats. This was in Keezletown, Virginia, just outside of Harrisonburg; and the location of a 10 Miler on the 24th. On Friday, except for a one mile walk interrupted with errands, I rested.

On Saturday, I raced. A thunderstorm prevented Sunday's easy run; but lengthened the Mother's Day popcorn and movie night with my daughter and her family. For every loss there is a win; for every win there is a loss.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Cross Training

This photo was taken on a recent hike up "747"; the Proctor family's name for a hill near New Market.

I took this photo Sunday part way through a 24.2 mile bicycle ride. But this road is along one of the Half Marathon training routes. As you can see, there are no "easy runs" or "easy rides" in this area. It's all hills. I cycled down one hill Sunday at about 30 miles per hour, and, of course, before I came down I had to go up!

Monticello VA

Above photo of Thomas Jefferson's home place was taken by Steve Bragg, my VRB (virtual running buddy).

Before the Half, my NY buddies; real time running partner, Butch Proctor; and I toured Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson. This photo was taken at the Thomas Jefferson family cemetery by a fellow tourist. Thanks, whomever you are!
Note: I am standing on the step behind every one; my buddies all tower over me!

Chillin' - Post Half Marathon


By this time, Cam (far left) and I had taken a nap. Steve, however, hadn't gotten one yet. So he's still looking a bit ragged.

Photos by Butch Proctor

Post Race -- Hurtin' for Certain!

My NY VRB (virtual running buddy) crosses the finish line.
Hmmm....I think there wasn't a spot on my body that didn't hurt, but mentally I have never been so elated or excited!
This photo was taken shortly after Steve crossed the line.
Photos by Butch Proctor.

Half Marathon Photos -- during the race

I'm on the right, number 1719. I believe this is near mile 3.
Steve Bragg...red "A" shirt.
George Gillies, on the left, waving for the camera.

Photos by Butch Proctor.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Apple Blossom 10K





Yesterday's race was in awesomely gorgeous mid-60 degree temps with a slight breeze in Winchester, Virginia. As always, at the starting line, my real-time running buddy, Butch, took off (he starts fast and then slows down a bit as the miles pile up). And, as always, I let him go and I lagged behind. But the first mile was all hills, and I just couldn't catch him as I usually do. I soon realized I was running way too hard for a 6-mile race. So I just slowed down, found my pace and ran my own race. I was a bit disappointed at that point, as based on last year's statistics, I had a shot at a win in my age and gender group.
The run was really hard--and no Butch anywhere, so I figured I was running real hard AND real slow.
And there were lots of spectators scattered alongside the race route, hollering out the names of friends and family members as they ran by. I'd pick it up a bit when the crowds were the most dense. I played mind games with myself. Every time I was tempted to slow down I'd think, "Y'never know. The kids could be in the crowd of spectators somewhere. You gotta keep going just in case."
I felt like I was running very hard. But Butch wasn't anywhere in the hundreds that I could see (over 1100 runners, according to the race stats posted on the wall at the start). I hadn't passed that many people, so I couldn't imagine that I'd passed him and not known it.
And then at a turn-around point, I met Butch heading for the U-turn I had just taken. I had passed him somewhere, which was good. But he wasn't that far behind. Egad! I thought. I must have slowed down more than I thought. By this point in a 5K (a 3-miler), he's usually a couple minutes behind. Mind you this wasn't about competing AGAINST Butch. But I know what pace Butch runs, and I know what pace I run. So if Butch was this close, I figured I had to be running a lot slower than I usually do. I knew I wouldn't win now, but I at least wanted to maintain my usual running pace. And I for sure didn't want to be running slower than the Half, a distance twice as far. So I tried to pick it up again.
Then I came to the 5K, the halfway point, and the clock said I'd only been running for about 26 minutes. I was running below 9-minute-mile pace, right around my usual 5K pace. And this was a 10K. So I did my best to just maintain, knowing now that I had a chance for a personal record anyway. And I was encouraged, knowing there was only about 25-30 minutes left to run. Surely I could maintain.
Another U-turn. And at this one, Butch was a bit farther behind. Much better. But at about the 5 1/2 mark, I ran out of gas. I kept moving my legs, but they were no longer connected and I had no clue how I was doing. I just kept telling them to move and hoped they did. When the finish line came into view though, I thought, "I've got to hurry; if I don't get across that line within the next couple seconds I'll fall on my face in front of it." I really had no clue where my legs were; there were just these chunks of lead where they used to be.
One last hard push and I crossed the finish line, gasping for air. The chip puller asked, "Are you okay?"
I couldn't breathe, let alone talk, so I just nodded my head.
"Is it okay if I take the chip?"
Again, another nod. Pacing, circling, gasping. . .Finally I could breathe enough to realize I needed to get out of the chute area, and I headed for a bottle of water.
About a minute or two later, Butch crossed the finish line, too. The stats? I ran that 10K with a chip time of 54:09, an 8:43 mile pace (my fastest ever 5K was an 8:11, and this was twice the distance. Usually my 5Ks are between 8:30 and 9 minute mile pace).
And Butch? He ran a whole minute faster than he ran the same race last year, and quite a bit faster than he's run all spring. That's why I was struggling so much to stay in my usual "spot," 2-3 minutes in front of him. So we were both very pleased. Very good races for both of us.
And, no, I didn't win. But I did take second in my age and gender group, and brought home a Thomas Jefferson engraved pewter cup hand crafted in Richmond, Virginia.
The grandkids admired my cup and said, "This is MUCH better than winning money, Grammie. At least you can use the cup for something. Money. . .it just gets lost. Or you have to buy something with it."