Mom's from Mars; We're from Mercury

My daughter friends' have nicknamed her "AnnaMartian", as occasionally she seems to need a reminder to return to earth now and then. Perhaps hearing that was an impetus for a project of Eliza's design, and on which the girls and I have been working on for weeks. Or perhaps the need to wear a disguise came from all the Nancy Drew books Eliza's been reading. But I digress.

The project began when the little girls found wigs at the Dollar Store, and convinced Grammie to buy them. Then on each visit after, the little girls have gone through my closet and drawers looking for the right combination of clothes and accessories by which they could make their disguise. They also combed through my make-up bag for coordinating make-up. Lists had to be made so that nothing would be forgotten when the time came for them to change selves. Eliza decided the best time for her and her sister to disappear, and for their alter egos to appear was on Eliza's birthday. And so they arrived at my apartment, because Anna Maria's oven was out. While Anna Maria was busy slaving away in my kitchen, I was in my room helping the little girls "disappear." When all was ready on our end, I went out and told AM and Steven, "I'm not sure what to do. I've looked everywhere, but I can't find the girls. They said they were going to work on a project in my room, but. . ."
And just then Rosaleah and Leah appeared. . .
Anna Maria and Steven assumed their roles very quickly!
"Wow! you look like princesses. Is that by chance what you are? And where are you from?" Anna Maria asked.
Steven, camera at the ready of course, was quickly snapping photos of the strangers, who didn't give their names until they had been asked several times. Rosaleah (above) didn't talk a whole lot about life on Mercury, but did mention that the hair she wore on Earth made it a bit hard to see.

Leah (above & below), however, explained in a very high pitched throaty voice that she was a friend of Eliza's and asked that we wish her a happy birthday. Unfortunately she wouldn't be able to stay for Eliza's birthday party. She asked for a piece of ice as that would have the texture closest to the asteroid that she ate on Mercury. Every year she said they would find an asteroid and eat off that. "One asteroid lasts us a whole year." They also nibble from the moon. She said it was pretty hot up there on Mercury as well. Oh. . .and they don't walk on Mercury. Instead they fly from place to place.
And then, nearly as quickly as they appeared, Leah suddenly announced. "Well, I'm very sorry, but I really must go." And they disappeared. Shortly thereafter Eliza and Magdalena returned from their "hiding place." Anna Maria told them about Leah and Rosaleah's visit, and Eliza announced that she had already bumped into the girls.

So ends the tale of "Mom's from Mars; we're from Mercury."

Slow, slow run. . .

One advantage of running is that it's a great way to measure your physical and mental health. I've been sick since Saturday's race and though I ran a 10 minute mile pace Sunday night, my belly issues got a lot worse quickly afterward. Apparently I was more ill than I realized, or at least my illness weakened me more than I realized, since my three-mile easy run this morning took 39:35. I figured I'd run slow, but a 13:13 pace!
Well now that I know more clearly what I'm up against, I also have a better understanding of what I need to do to get well. And part of getting well will be letting Butch do a lot of the driving to New York tomorrow so I can rest. I have done the Crosswinds 5K twice before, and am so looking forward to running it with my virtual and real time running buddies on Saturday. And my editor has granted time off, so I have an incentive to do well as an expression of gratitude.

Magdalena Starts Kindergarten

Anna Maria packed the little girls' backpacks with their school supplies a couple weeks ago, did their paperwork a week ago and, yesterday morning at 7:30 a.m., was packing lunches. All this advance preparation, but still there were a couple hitches. Eliza's shoes were no where to be found. And Magdalena did not want to wear her sneakers. "They hurt my feet!" she said. Instead she wanted to wear her much smaller water shoes. I tried to convince Magdalena that her feet were just not used to shoes, because she's been barefoot all summer. Like Magdalena, I didn't wear shoes during the summer as a little girls. So I told her that when I was a little, my shoe-shod feet on the first day of school always felt uncomfortable until I got accustomed to shoes again. But Magdalena was adament. She also wanted to wear this dress, the same one Eliza wore on her first day of school. Alas! a rip exposed what should not be seen. Compromises were made. Magdalena wore her water shoes, and she wore shorts under her skirt. And finally they were off with smiles on their faces scurrying down their lane with Momma holding their hands, and Daddy walking backwards ahead of them and snapping photos.
Here they await the arrival of the bus. Eliza Grace held her sister's hand even as they boarded the bus, and climbed the stairs that were way too steep for Magdalena's little legs. The bus driver had a big smile on her face as she greeted the girls, "Good morning!"
Later in the day I asked Magdalena how her first day of school went. Another little boy had gotten a yellow, orange and red card for poor choices. But Magdalena was proud to have none. And she was not one of the three kindergarteners who cried on the first day of school.

Heritage 5K in Dayton, Virginia

How fitting that after a couple days in historic Washington, D.C., I'd end the week at a race sponsored by the Harrisonburg-Rockingham Historical Society in Dayton, Virginia. The 5K ran through historic buildings in Dayton, through a road with cornfields towering above my head, and then back at the historical society. I won a free one-year membership to the historical society, lunch for two at a restaurant in Bridgewater and a treasure -- the book "Where the River flows: Finding Faith in Rockingham County, Virginia 1726-1876" by Robert R. Hewitt, III.

These are "stories of remarkable courage, people who stood by the truths they held so closely. In a land of slavery, they chose to keep people free. In a land of war, they chose not to fight. In a land of devastation, they set their hands to rebuild what had been destroyed. More remarkable still are the lives that were changed --- people of every age and every station, all grasped by something beyond their natural lives. Here is the real, lasting story, a story of faith and commitment, of hope that does not disappoint. It is the story of those who live where the river flows" (quote from the jacket). It's also the story of Baptist, German Reformed, Lutheran, Mennonites, Dunkers, Presbyterians, Inspirationists, Quakers, Separatists, Moravians, people who, as far as the state was concerned, were dissenters, and at odds with the Anglican church.

I'm anxious to read this and to understand more clearly the culture of the Shenandoah Valley, a culture formed out of its history.

Tidal Basin Race 3K

Willows on the Potomac. The D.C. Road Runners hold the Tidal Basin 3k on the third Wednesday of every month beginning here on Ohio Drive which borders Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial Park.

And a view of the other side of Ohio Drive and the Tidal Basin. I finished this, my 36th race for the year, in 15:35, an 8:22 pace. Considering I had just run a 4.5 mile cross country the evening before, I was ecstatic even though I only placed 48 out of 56 runners, 10th of 12 females. Those DC Road Runners are fast!

Another pre-race walk break - Viet Nam Memorial

Names of soldiers killed in action cram every inch of available space on each panel of the Viet Nam wall (above and below) and depict just one cost of that war -- human lives.

A friend (above and below) flips through an alphabetical listing of the names to see which panel contains the name of his former childhood friend (the names of those killed in action are listed according to the approximate order of their death). I remember two classmates, cousins, who lost their brother and cousin in Nam. In grade school at the time, I didn't understand their grief, nor did they. I'm not sure we ever will.

FDR

We walked through about half a dozen "rooms" that encompassed the FDR memorial. Each one had a water feature, and though they were beautiful and relaxing, I chose not to post them because of lack of space on this blog.
I chose instead to post some of FDR's quotes and this depiction of the soup lines. I fear that, in this country, an "I've got mine and I'm not going to share" attitide is taking over. News reports and statistics show that the middle class is shrinking as corporate executives draw their million- and billion-dollar salaries, but refuse to pass on raises to those who keep their corporations going. We're afraid to remove tax incentives for large corporations because we're afraid prices will soar (of course, if they did, we could at least exercise the right not to buy, and thus not to support those corporations, right?). The cost of living has been rising at nearly a 6% rate for years, but salaries have not. In reality, therefore, workers are receiving annual decreases in wages as buying power decreases. And then there's the issue of health insurance. Many who have health insurance are largely underinsured, as their 80-20 plans aren't enough to cover a major illness or their plans dictate the use of doctors who are ill equipped to meet their patients' needs.

Burke Lake Race - A D.C. Road Runners Race

Warming up for a 4.5 miler on a cross country route through trails at Burke Lake around 6 p.m. on Tuesday, August 19.
As you can see this is the Burke Lake Railroad, and I'm betting the grandchildren would have enjoyed riding this. I would have, too, but I had a race to run -- number 35 toward my goal of 50 this year.
Finish time: 42:31 (9:27 pace). I placed 48/56 overall, and was the 10th of 12 females. I felt much more confident running trails this time, and was just one second per mile than my first and best cross country race nine days ago.

Overwhelmed During a Warm-up Jog

Most runners find themselves overwhelmed during a race or near the end. Weather, injury, a near-win, an unexpected win or some other unanticipated factor combined with pouring everything into a race leads often to unfettered emotional release. But I found myself overwhelmed during a pre-race warm-up through Washington D.C. last week. We had just walked through FDR's memorial, jogged around the Tidal Basin and come upon the Reflecting Pool (above). There is the WWI memorial, Jefferson's Memorial, Washington's Monument and the Capitol. On the other side of Pool, outside of the camera's "eye", is Lincoln's Memorial. I'm old enough now that a series of television news images, and historic photos and stories flashed through my brain in rapid succession -- a line of historic presidents, VPs, and leaders who actually lived and worked right here; Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech, marches on Washington, September 11, 2001, just to name a few. Combine all that history with the realization that I now stood in a place I never thought I'd ever see.
"I'm going to cry," I said.
A more accurate statement would have been, "I NEED to cry." The onslaught of unexpected emotion demanded that I just stop, breathe deep and release.

The Pacific side of the World War II memorial.

The Atlantic side of the World War II Memorial. Each smaller column has a wreath on top; and the name of one of the states and Puerto Rico are listed at random on the column below the wreath.

A Tribute to Over 16 Million

These photos were taken at the World War II Memorial, completed in January 2005 and dedicated on May 21, 2005. It was built to honor 16 million who served and more than 400,000 who died in the war, and those who supported from home.

World War II veterans got to see "their memorial" Wednesday, August 20, thanks to Honor Flight, a volunteer organization that provides flight and automobile transportation to the veterans, many of whom are now in their 80s. Above on the right former Senator Bob Dole, also a World War II veteran who was injured in the war and received two purple hearts, speaks with a couple vets. For more information on Dole's involvement in World War II, visit his website at http://www.bobdole.org/bio/wwII.php.

Earl Morse (wearing a suit in the above photo) founded Honor Flight. The first flight, on May 21, 2005, carried 12 veterans. Morse is a pilot, retired Air Force captain and a private pilot. According to the Honor Flight website, Morse was unprepared to see veterans weep in gratitutde for the privilege of seeing "their memorial." For more information about Honor Flight, which is dependent upon private donations, visit the website at: www.honorflight.org/historyvis.htm.

I took the above photos while in DC jogging between memorials and sites on Wednesday, August 20, in preparation for the Tidal Basin 3K race at noon. The World War II memorial was crowded with WWII vets, among them former Senate Majority Leader from Kansas Bob Dole. When Dole caught me snapping photos of the memorial, visitors and veterans, he said to his staff, "Hey, we have to shoot the 5K couple over there."
He then told his assistant as he pointed to his left side, "Put her here beside me."
Butch said, "Can I come, too?"
Dole answered, "Sure as long as you stay over there where you belong."
Thus a couple runners wearing tee shirts earned at foot races ended up in a photo with Dole, the chairman of the National WWII Memorial, the chairman of the International Committee on Missing Persons, and the co-chair of the President's Commission on Care for America's Returning Wounded Warriors.

Timber!

Race number 34 was yesterday at the Bachman farm, a large farm in Comus, Maryland. After a 2.5 hour drive to get there and registering for the event, Butch and I went for our traditional one mile warm-up run. He suggested taking the wooded route as it was the roughest, and the easiest place to get lost. We were snaking our way along a serpentine route up a steep hill when I heard what sounded like a very large animal tearing through the woods. Remembering a recent bear encounter I scanned the horizon and heard a crash. I saw nothing but trees. Butch, too, heard the noise, but looked up into the canopy of trees alongside the trail. He saw a limb as big around as a telephone pole, and 1/3 as tall take a nose dive and hurtle to the ground.

Just a couple weeks ago, on a camping trip with the grandchildren, the girls and I went through a hike. I had told them that it was important to pay attention when hiking -- to watch for wildlife, to make enough noise that wild animals wouldn't be startled by our presence, AND to listen for the creak of a tree limb ready to fall. At the time, I didn't realize that a falling tree and a wild animal scurrying through the underbrush could sound so similar.

The actual race began with the pack of runners scrambling across an open field, trying to find their place in what would become a line of runners through the trails. In a single track spot we navigated over rocks tumbling down into a shallow ditch and back out over still more strewn rocks -- that was a tad frustrating as the runners ahead couldn't be passed and they practically walked down and up. We ran over moss covered stepping stones across a creek at one spot, and over dry stones across the creek at another spot. Tree roots and stones threatened to trip us, but I stayed upright and felt like I ran much more confidently that at my first cross country last week.

When I reached the last leg where Butch and I had warmed up, a solid line of runners (there was a total of 155 of us) zig-zagged up the hill toward my left, continued across the ridge and streamed down on the right -- just as I've seen many times in photos or in movies.

I followed the line, reached a grassy field and checked my watch. 24 minutes had passed. The race was nearly over, and I wasn't ready to quit. It was just too much fun. That elation quickly passed at the finish line, although I would like to run this one again.

And fortunately the limb's fall was the biggest adventure of the evening, and the race went off with barely a hitch. Another participant just behind me fell in a grassy area, but got up and, not only finished the race, but passed me.

Nonviolence -- Ghandi's Message & JMU Project

Granddaughter Eliza attended a day camp at James Madison University this week, and the theme was Ghandi's message of nonviolence. On Friday, the last day, the campers gave a presentation for family members, an opportunity to share what they had learned. A handful of campers read a letter they had written seeking peace. Others took turns sharing Ghandi's message, his biography and also a list of his followers. Eliza, however, opted to do her own thing and sang a song she'd learned in church about peace. "I thought about what to write," she said. "And then I realized this song was perfect." She was scared. Just two weeks shy of her seventh birthday, this was her first public solo. A music teacher listening in, however, said she did a great job.

Patience and Pace

I've been reading Amby Burfoot's daily Olympic blog entries. Over the last couple days, he has written quite a bit about pacing and patience. Patience is especially important during large, long races. At the beginning of a race, a runner can waste a lot of energy just trying to get out of the pack. An efficient runner, instead, is patient and stays with the pack till it spreads out and breaking away is easier. Energy levels are then maintained for running negative splits (each mile a bit faster than the previous one) and pushing the pace till the end.

Efficient use of energy as opposed to wasting energy on the stuff that just cannot be changed, like the compacted starting pack. I think of the AA motto: Give me the patience to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.

When racing, there are many variables that cannot be changed and those variables affect each runner differently. I, for example, am greatly impacted by humidity and cold; both make it very difficult to breathe and, thus, slow my pace by several seconds per mile. A runner's rule for running in the heat recommends increasing times by 30 seconds per mile for every five degrees above 60. That's about right when the humidity is also high, although heat alone doesn't seem to bother me that much. I can fight to maintain my usual pace, but in doing so waste a lot of energy, unnecessarily deplete oxygen levels and risk a DNF (did not finish) or worse.

Terrain also makes a difference. I ran four races in four days last week, three of them 5K. But the cross country 5K over grass and through trees was about 2.5 minutes slower than Thursday's 5K on the road; three minutes slower than the 5K on the asphalt drive through the shaded park of Gypsy Hill in Staunton. Nonetheless in three of the four races I was still the second female, and in one I was the third; so runners in all four races seemed to be affected by terrain and weather as much as I was. And the talk at the finish line confirms that assumption. To have wasted energy and effort fighting the conditions would have made little sense and gained little; and in the case of the cross country race, blazing across the difficult terrains would have only greatly increased my fall risk. Instead I exercised patience, knowing I wanted to race another day.

"Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. . . .Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly. I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize" (the Apostle Paul, I Cor. 9:25-27).

Adapting to conditions. Strict training. Purposeful running, not running aimlessly. Ruling over the body -- and, perhaps, ruling over those occasions where I give emotion full reign and, thus, allow impatience to overflow? Reducing the risk of a DNF.

Besides my usual running goals over the next couple weeks, I have several writing deadlines -- a different kind of race to be sure, but a race nonetheless. And I have a very unreliable Internet service. Yesterday when I most needed to get online before interviewing sources, no connection was available. I confess that patience DID not overflow, and energy was wasted on unchanneled emotion. Perhaps, over the next couple weeks, in all my races I'll do a better job enacting the principal of patience and be a better steward of my energy levels. After all I do not want a DNF in my writing goals, or in my life goals, any more than I want a DNF in my foot races.

C&O Canal at Carderock Park, Maryland

A slight detour on the way home for a short walk along a piece of the C&O Canal at Carderock Park in Maryland. The dirt trail on the left is where the mules used to trod, pulling barges and boats through the canal on the right. This Canal crosses the Potomoc River. I "shot" the signs below as evidence of place, but also because of the warnings about the dangers of landing canoes, kayaks and recreational boats along certain sections of the Potomoc. To see photos more clearly, click once or twice on them, and they'll enlarge.

D.C. Road Runner Cross Country Champion Runner Up

In spite of warnings and watches about t-storms, we headed Sunday for Maryland and the D.C. Road Runners Cross Country Championship Race held at the Landon School for Boys. Above a runner warms up.
Runners stepped lightly over tree roots in between these two rows of pines. . .the cool shade was a relief after running across the dirt track and open field.
We crossed this drive to get from one loop of the race to the other and wondered, "How much did it cost for the white paint on these rocks?"
After crossing the drive and across the grassy field, the trail went behind the trees in the rear.

This was my first true cross-country race, though I have run across trails. But to run across grass where a runner just can't really get traction and through trails too narrow for passing while dodging tree roots during a race was a new experience. I finished with a time of 29:16 (9:26 pace). I think I could have done a bit better. But this was my fourth race in four days and it was 83 degrees. Given depth perception issues, I was also afraid of tripping and falling. I did trip over a tree root once and nearly landed on my face, but righted myself just before my center of gravity tipped toward a horizontal landing. And I got behind a runner who wobbled as he ran; every time I thought could go around him, something about his gait unnerved me and I stayed behind, fearful I might trip him. About two-thirds through the race, at another opportunity to pass, he was the only one I could see or hear; scared of getting lost on the course, I opted to follow.

Unbeknownst to me this was the D.C. Road Runners cross country championship. Since I was second in my age group, that makes me a D.C. Road Runner Cross Country Age Group Championship Runner Up.

Return to Gypsy Hill

Before moving to Broadway, I used to train at Gypsy Hill. Then I figured one loop around the park within 15 minutes was a good day. Then last fall, on November 10, I ran a 5K in the park in 27:44, just under 9 minute mile pace. I don't know what my lap times were; that's not recorded in my log. But I took first in my age group.

Today I participated in the Dog Days race, a race that promotors established to to get area cross country teams and their coaches ready for the next season. I was thrilled to run a lap around the park in 12 minutes; but when I added 12 minutes to the time on my watch I knew I'd better hurry if I was to beat 27 minutes -- and I was determined NOT to run another 27 minute 5K. So I pushed as hard as I dared, ran up a hill I often had to walk a year ago, and headed for the last downhill. The final kick was no sprint (I'd pushed too hard during the whole 5K for that, as it should be). But I WAS able to kick a bit at the end and crossed the line at 26:16, an 8:28 mile pace. Given that this was my third race in three days, I was content.

But the time just happened to be good enough to also merit a 2d place silver medal in a very unusual age grouping of 46-55 year old females (usually the age groups are 50-55, or 50-59). I WAS the fastest female aged between 50-55. Butch also took second in his division. My emotions soared to ecstatic. The winner in my division, Gail Holman, incidentally, broke the race record with a time of 24:01.

After the race I met up with my Susan, my former neighbor and co-worker; and Angie and her mom at Celebrate!. (Note: this is not a typo; the name of their store has an exclamation point). My hug quota filled for the day, I took a peek at the front of the law firm where I used to work; and then took a driving tour along one of my old running routes.

That's what I call a very good day.

China Grove

I needed to ditch some agitation today, thus my version of a 7-mile biathlon, a bike and photoshoot, along one of my favorite running routes. This section is off Spar Mine Road in Broadway.

According to the "family legend", when the Proctor "boys" first started running, the cornfields on one side and the trees on the other reminded them of the cover of a Doobie Brothers album called China Grove, hence the nickname for this section of road. China Grove, by the way, is available on CD. Check out:
http://www.doobiebrothers.net/discography/listen-to-the-music-the-very-best-of-the-doobie-brothers/

Just past "China Grove". The Shenandoah River is on the other side of the trees, and every once a while the trees open up enough to sneak a peak. The loop also provides a mountain view. Trees, river and mountains, little traffic, a hill for a bit of a challenge -- the perfect run or ride.

River Ride

See the duck (nesting, I assume) on the sandbar? Reminds me of campouts on the sandbars on Iowa rivers with my younger bros. Hmmm....maybe the granddaughters will do a campout on a Shenandoah sandbar.
This view is near an area of Broadway nicknamed "The Foundry." On the other side of the trees is an old factory, or foundry; and this area became so named because of the factory.

God's Sense of Humor

I've adopted this flower bed at church. Originally a mess of some kind of creeping mass of weeds, Butch and I dug all that out. We then covered the ground with a layer of newspapers, and put mulch over all that. Joan Layman, a member, donated enough plants to fill the back seat of my garden, all of them dug from her home gardens, and we planted those as well. It's now starting to fill out and beginning to look like a garden again.
Years ago my sister told me that God was not the task master I imagined. She also said he wasn't out to get me, looking for any excuse to "beat me into submission". Instead she said that God is the perfect parent, the kind of parent we all wanted to be.
I've thought of that often, especially as my children grew up and learned new things. I remember chuckling at my daughters' and granddaughters' first efforts at standing and walking. They'd take a few steps, wobble, fall over and try again. And eating? What a mess! I'd put a table cloth under the high chair just to contain some of the mess. But I didn't scold. They were doing the best they could. And I often found myself giggling as they learned to use their hands and feet.
And so I imagine God laughing and giggling at my recent church gardening efforts. I found a mess of bulbs buried under the dirt. Not knowing at all what they were nor how tall they'd get, I put them where I thought they'd soften the look of the sage, Japanese mulberry and pine shrub. But look! They turned out to be lillies, and some popped up and then bloomed right in the midst of the sage. In my mind I can just hear God chuckle. I can almost feel his hand on my shoulder as he says, "Oh honey! Look what you did with my bulbs. See how I've made the plants grow, and most of it looks great. Now as far as these lillies in the sage. . .well, that's okay, too. We'll just plant them somewhere else once they're done blooming. You're learning. And I so love you."

Consider the ant. . .

The last track meet of the season was last night, and I still felt sluggish after Sunday's Bikeabout (8 for the mile, 26:45 for the 5K). But then this morning I saw this ant dragging the carcass of that bug 20 times its size across the steps (click on the photo to enlarge it; you'll see it clearer). I decided that I didn't really understand the meaning of hard work.

"Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise!" (Proverbs 6:6).

Maybe I'll remember this the next time I am tempted to slack off. Actually I really didn't have much energy last night. Muscles were sore. And I don't really think I slacked off so much as I just couldn't muster up the energy for a hard race-pace run. I also think my emotions affected last night's run a bit. It was the last track meet of the season. Part of me was ready for that last track race, but another part wants the summer and the meets to last forever. The end of summer blues has commenced.

My Partner's Back

Five mile tempo run today. According to my log, this was my fastest 5-miles on Sunset -- 56:30 or a 9:18 pace. Temperature was much cooler, just 71 degrees. So that helped. But my running partner also helped -- a lot.
Butch has run 36 marathons (one 50-miler). He stopped when he could no longer do them in less than three hours; usually he ran them in 3:15 to 3:45, or about an 8-minute pace. He used to run 10K races at about a 6:30 to 7:00 minute mile pace. Now he's slowed down a bit and he logs fewer miles, but he keeps on running. He took a few weeks off after a calf injury incurred in the Dam to Dam in Iowa in May, but still cross-trained on his bicycle. He did intervals on his bike while I ran -- handing me water, and encouraging and coaching when meeting up with me. When the calf started to heal, we ran on the track. We could each run our own pace and distance that way, yet stay within eyesight. And we could motivate each other when one of us lapped the other. And it was good, much better than running solo. But it just wasn't the same as having a verbal coach right alongside.
But then a notation dated July 8 in my running log states, "with BP. Yeah!" And another on July 10 states, "BP is back!!" We had run two races at that evening's track meet.
Today he ran four, and I ran five. I left him around the first mile, turned around at the 2.5 mile point and headed back home. I saw him a mile later and picked up the pace, hoping I'd catch him. He heard me coming and picked up his pace. I tried a bit harder. So did he. I finally caught him at the crest of the hill on Morningside, just a few yards from the post that marks our starts and finishes. He beat his previous "Sunset 4" by three minutes. And I beat mine as well.
According to my running log, I'm running about two minutes per mile faster than I did a year ago. Back then my NY virtual running partner kept me honest and kept me disciplined (and he still does!).
But there's nothing quite like having a real time running buddy to chase.

Historic New Market

Pedaling through New Market yesterday, battle field monuments and a battlefield reenactment site recite the history of the Civil War.
"That was 200 years ago. Get over it," I used to think. But now I see things differently.
Butch knows someone whose grandfather fought alongside Stonewall Jackson.
And on the weekend, the Daily News Record (Harrisonburg, Virginia) told of Carrie Allen McCray Nickens (94), the black descendant of John Robert Jones, a Harrisonburg man Jackson had nominated to become a general. Though Gen. Robert E. Lee and President Jefferson Davis endorsed the nomination, the Confederate Senate never confirmed Jones. Captured in 1863, he spent the last two years of the war in prison camps.
Two Confederate soldiers. Two Virginian's grandparents. Suddenly 200 years ago just doesn't seem that long ago.

Sunday's Bikeabout

The Australians have their walkabouts. Runners' World encourges a runabout. In keeping with both, Butch and I took a bikeabout Sunday. The next several blog entries are scenes from the slow and relatively easy (this IS the hilly Shenandoah Valley after all) bike ride.

After a weekend of way too much partying (camping with the girls and a 5K in 91 degree heat on Saturday night), I had slept about 9 1/2 to 10 hours Saturday night and awakened in a very groggy state Sunday morning. But I was too agitated to just sit at home. So Butch and I took off on a bike ride, with the idea that we'd quit whenver I got tired -- and we both figured 5 miles would be about all we'd get in. I grabbed my camera and cell phone, some water and off we went.
Let me backtrack to Friday and Saturday. A t-storm at 5 a.m. abruptly forced my grandkids and me out of our cozy sleeping bags and tent. Cleaning up the soggy mess after I got home Saturday night ate up time allotted for a nap. Even so I left at 3:30 p.m. for a race in Fredericksburg (number 29).

At race start, it was 91 degrees according to the timing company. Another t-storm threatened. The Fredericksburg Christian Health Center fundraiser was to raise money for the organization, which provides medical care for both insured and uninsured. Written race instructions warned that the race would abruptly end once lightening hit. Anyone finishing before that time would be counted as a finisher and their race times recorded. Everyone else was to head for cover.

The weather held. But the humidity was so high I was soaked in sweat before I even crossed the starting line. Then 27 minutes and 42 seconds later I crossed the finish line (just under 9 minute mile pace). Other racers complained about their slow times. Exhausted before the race, I was completely done as Butch and I headed out of town -- the bank marquee still registering 88 degrees.

And so it was that I slept long and hard Saturday, and still felt sluggish at 2:30 Sunday afternoon when I hopped on my bike. But somewhere along the shade of Plains Mill Road, with the river meandering alongside, my old bones revived. We reached the tee, took a left across a bridge, and kept on going. Three hours and 25 miles later, I was back home making supper. Well. . .supper was simmering on the stove, while I sat with my feet resting atop my exercise ball and read.

Enjoy the trip as depicted in the next several entries.

Quicksburg

The "747" as viewed from Quickburg.
Looking on the back side of Quicksburg. The tower is atop the Quicksburg United Methodist Church; it and the post office are still in use.
We took a detour along a road that used to cross the river east of Quicksburg ; a new road (Route 767) now parallels and replaces this one. We were glad to know that state maintenance ended at the end of the road -- perhaps a "road ends" sign might have made more sense? Actually there used to be a bridge where the sign is posted.

Historic Quicksburg

This Quicksburg store used to sell soda, candy and gas. The stone oval in the center of the photo below shows where the gas pump island used to be.

See the darker grass just in front of the trees? That was Quicksburg's baseball diamond, in use up till the 50s or 60s.

The former Quicksburg grocery, a long narrow single-story building with an apartment at one end, also still stands, though there is no evidence of any current usage.