Saturday, October 25, 2008

Proud Gramma

Ha! and you thought this would be another photo of me, didn't you. But I am no longer the only proud gramma in my family of origin, so this entry is about Grannie Annie and Harper, my great nephew. His tee says, "What happens at Grandma's stays at Grandma's." And that would be proud Grannie holding Harper in the photo below! This was Gramma and Grampa's first time babysitting, so I told them they had to use an egg timer to track how long each held the babe so there'd be no fighting. Seriously though it WAS tough to remember to share when Eliza was born. . .whew! I wanted her all to myself all the time. . .


Sopping Wet but Twice as Fast

It was in the mid-50s and pouring rain when I left Broadway this morning at 8ish for a 5K/10K fundraiser race/walk for breast cancer research. Couldn't help but think of Mom who had breast cancer, and died of lung cancer; and of a runner and politician whose wife lives just up the road a bit and had her third breast cancer surgery this week.

Getting out of the "chute" was a bit tough -- awful crowded, but I've learned to just go with the flow and not fight that too much. There's always a chance to make up the time later, and it prevents starting too fast. Just before mile two, though, my left shoe came untied. I had forgotten to change into my racing shoes, and thus forgot to knot the bows and tuck the ends under the strings. So I lost a minute or two there. Soon I saw my friend Laura who was running her first 10K.

By now puddles swallowed up about half of a lane on the roads. Fallen, wet leaves and pine needles threatened to snatch my legs out from under me. Uphill the going was just a tad slippery. And I'm finding it a bit difficult to know how to dress these days. Today I opted for tights as my legs get cold when it's this cold; tights less irritating than looser pants. I also chose a short-sleeved tee shirt, as the long sleeved I wore last weekend was just a bit too much. By the time I crossed the 10K finish line I was cold and my hands were too numb to pull the tab off my race number. So I think the tee shirt was okay, but gloves would have been nice. The sopping wet sleeves of a long-sleeved tee would have felt like a straight jacket. Maybe one of my long sleeved technical tops would have made sense.

For two of the last three miles I ran solo. . .I've gotten used to that. Then about half a mile from the finish, I ran into the walkers who were finishing up the 5K. They walked six or more across, many times oblivious to the runners trying to get around them. So I'd holler, "On your left" and head for the gutter alongside the road. The first two groups completely ignored me. In one instance I nearly shoved my way through because nobody would let me by. Perhaps they were lost in conversation or something; but that sure was rude. I've learned to be a bit aggressive in such situations though. . .and just push my way through anyway.

When I'd shout, "On your left," for the last few groups, they made room. And they hollered and cheered me along -- as I did them. They may have been walkers, but they sure had the running spirit. And I felt empowered -- I was doing 10K faster than it took them to run 5. Usually I'm running my races at half the speed of those in the front, and I'll cheer those front runners for all I'm worth when I see them coming my way, having passed the turn-around long before me. Now I know how they must feel!

I crossed the finish line in 57:51, and kept on running -- to the car where I had warm clothes waiting. I called AM on the way home, thinking she might be heading in to Broadway and thus able to turn the heat on in my apartment for me. When I told her I was cold, and before I had a chance to ask for a favor, she said, "Well, WE have a warm shower AND a fireplace. How about if you just come over here?"

So I took advantage of a hot shower there, and then drank hot chocolate with two toasty warm little girls sitting on my lap. I was warm again in a hurry. . .

Saturday, October 18, 2008

#43 - Staunton Ten Miler

It was about 45 degrees when we left Broadway this morning at 6:00 a.m. I was tempted to stay home, but Butch reminded me, "About 9 o'clock you're going to hate yourself for skipping this race you've been so looking forward to."
And this was an awesome course -- much better than last year when I ran it at 1:47:33 and took second in my age group. Last year the course had 28 turns and almost no break from the uphills. This year we ran down Beverley to Commerce, and then took a turn onto a country road where even the cows cheered us on with their contented moos.
Volunteers cheered, yet remained attentive to task and didn't let anyone miss a turn. They warned of lane switches and upcoming turns in plenty of time to adjust pace and course. All I had to think about was running.
Club member Marlin Yoder couldn't run the race as he's still recovering from taking first in his age group at an Ultra (100 miler) a couple weekends ago. But that didn't stop him from cheering us on. Near the end he ran with me for a ways through Gypsy Hill Park -- cheering me on, pushing me to run just a bit harder than I thought I could, reminding me that I was just almost there. And then he said, "I'm going to catch Butch next. . ." Which he did. . .he said it was about as fun to cheer as it is to run the races. Well, I don't know about that, but I DO know that I ran much faster than I thought I could and did this course at 1:33:30. And I think that push and some loud cheers from club members at the end let me reach that time.
SVTC club member Carmin Green was the first female. Jack Marmestein from Rosetta Stone, who often runs with our group during races but isn't a member, was the first male. Butch and I took third in our age groups. Another club member also took third place in her group. So the Club cleaned house again.

Toby: Our New Best Friend

Toby after his jaunt of disobedience. . .
An adventure on Tuesday reminded me of AM and Sam, although in different ways. I remembered how other teens often followed AM home from school. . .and then wanted to stay. And I remembered how animals followed Sam home. . .and then wanted to stay.
Well Butch and I ran down Sunset, as we always do now that's school's in session and the schools' tracks are unavailable. Somewhere along the way, a dog came out and ran with Butch a while. Since I was ahead of Butch at that point, I didn't see his new friend. Butch hollered though, and I looked back and there they were -- trotting along side by side -- Butch and this yellow lab.
Well the dog was enjoying his freedom, got tired of Butch, caught up to me and ran alongside me -- except when he was trail marking and then playing catch-up. A couple times I saw oncoming cars and I hollered, and pointed, and waved my arms to warn them as this dog was just wandering and meandering wherever. Once I thought he was going to get hit, and the oncoming female driver smiled and nodded and mouthed a thanks.
Finally I lost the lab. I thought that maybe he had gone home. I passed a lady getting out of her SUV, and, just in case the lab was still wandering mindlessly, I asked if she'd call someone -- told her I was worried about this yellow lab with no collar wandering down the run unmindful of traffic and all. She said she'd have her gramma call, and I ran on home.
Just a few minutes later, here comes Butch -- with the dog beside him! I called the dog, "Here, Boy! Come here." And I opened the door into my apartment. He seemed most glad to visit and explore a new place. But Butch protested. "He's too big! He's been marking his trail; he'll mess up your apartment."
I agreed with him, but couldn't let the dog just wander off again.
"What else can I do? I'll just keep him till I call the dog officer. I can't let him get hit. I could never live with myself."
"Will he fit in your car?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well then why don't we just take him home?"
"You know where he lives?"
"Well, yeah. . .I saw him come from a house anyway. . .must be his house."
So we put this now slobbering hunk of yellow fur in the back seat of the car that Butch had just thoroughly cleaned for me a couple days ago, and headed down the road. When we got to the house, I said, "You stay with the dog and I'll go see if someone's home."
This dear sweet older lady came out of the house, a house with a tennis court (no kidding!) and all kinds of farm machinery. She looked a bit apprehensive when she came to the door -- me all sweaty and stinky in my running clothes, and still breathing hard.
"This dog followed me home when I was running today. . .all the way to Turner Avenue. I wonder if he might be yours. He's in the car. . ."
She followed me to the car, opened the back door to a now smiling (well that MIGHT be an exageration) dog.
"Oh, Toby," she cooed. "You will have to stay in your pen all afternoon now." And then the lady looked at my car. "Oh dear. He's made a mess of your car," she said.
"Don't worry about it; I'm used to it. The grandchildren make a mess of it, too." And then I asked if she'd call dog control and let them know that the dog on Sunset had found his home, and she said she would. She was so grateful.
Once home, I collected carpet cleaner, rags and water and scrubbed the hair and dog smell out of my car. Ooohhh....the goobers he left on the headrest! Ick! But I know that Toby made it home safe. I smiled to myself as I realized that I had indeed learned a few lessons from my children.

Lost at Lost River

Well, we weren't really "lost" exactly; we WERE on a road going somewhere. And as soon as I saw the sign "leaving Lost River", I knew what we'd done wrong. But had we not gone the wrong way about a mile earlier, we would have missed the horses out on a run and the covered wagon.

You can't tell it from the photo, but these guys, for a spell, were coming at us full gallop and they have no rider! A horse and rider at the front and another at the end of the line made sure they galloped down the road, crossed safely and then tore down one of the nearby trails.

Ryan

Ryan took his first steps last weekend (10/11), but outside on the uneven ground he preferred walking while holding hands.
Ryan studies a leaf. . .and a laugh with his mom.

Ryan's fine motor skills are pretty good for someone just over a year old. . .he could pick up one blade of grass at a time using pointing finger and thumb, and he liked sharing each one he picked.

Lost River Pathfinding

Katy has been attending college near D.C., training to be a nurse. And one or two weekends during the month she has Reserve duty. So she hasn't been attending SVTC runs on Tuesdays, and we haven't seen her for a long time. Photo: Katy with her son, Ryan, on her back and Butch study the map and decide which way, and how far, to go.

Race 42 - 10/11 SVTC "Cleans House" & Dry Bath

Race 42 was the 10K Fall Foliage in Waynesboro, Virginia. Temperatures were in the 70s by the time the race started, so shorts and tee shirt was appropriate. The leaves are starting to turn. Near the halfway point I picked up a racer from North Carolina who originally thought this race was just a 5K. He hoped to finish in 60 minutes. We pushed each other to the finish, he beating me by a few seconds, both of us coming in around 58 minutes. Pace: 9:30.

And I took home my very first trophy! 51 years old and I finally earned one. I got home just in time to throw baby powder on hair and body (AM says the English call this a "dry bath"), and a clean shirt and jeans. Then I left for Woodstock and a Friends of the North Fork River fish fry; the organizers put the event together to raise funds for cleaning up the North Fork of the Shenandoah.

The little girls just beamed when they saw the trophy. I had told them a couple weeks ago how much I'd like to have just one trophy for my shelf. Eliza held it for several minutes on the drive and then Maggie cradled it like a baby, pure joy and pride on her face.

Then at the fish fry, Messie Maggie ground chocolate frosting on my shirt, but she's my granddaughter. . .I got home just as Butch pulled into the driveway for a church dinner with another friend. I yelled, "Clean shirt! I'll be right back!" And I tossed on another shirt and more baby powder -- just in case!!

Did my wet shower after all that ever feel good! I think it felt almost as good as winning that first trophy. But I wasn't the only one bringing home prizes. Butch, club president Rich Ruozzi, Susan Dendinger and George Gillies all won awards as well. I love it when the Club and friends clean house like this.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

The Community of Zenda & Long's Chapel


Butch and I took the long way home from Saturday's race, going through Keezletown and the Community of Zenda, near Fridley's Gap and Brethren Woods.

Funds to restore and preserve this chapel are being raised in the valley, thanks to, as I understand it, a black from the south who visited the area and became interested in the history. This chapel was built in 1870 in the Community of Zenda, a community established by former slaves Henry Carter, Milton Grant, William Timbers and Richard Fortune. Each of the four families owned two-acre home plots. William and Hannah Carpenter, and the Church of the United Brethren in Christ, "deeded the land 'here to colored people. . .for. . .a church, burial ground and a school house.'"

The community of Zenda grew to 17 households and 80 people by 1900. And it was here that blacks were finally able to exercise their new rights to worship, marry, attend school, own property and be buried in a marked gravesite.

The school closed in 1925.

That's a tree growing out of the car. . .

There's a farm at the corner of Happy Valley and Mountain Valley roads near Keezletown (along the SVTC Mountain Valle 10 Miler race course) where this car has sat long enough for a good-sized tree to take root and grow inside.


Burtner Farms 6K XC

How's this for a cross country course? The hill along the right side of the pond is nearly straight up, and the entire 6K course, which began behind the school below, was hilly. All but a short spurt of this course was on grass. Thirteen participated; I was the third female overall and brought home a bronze medal. But then there were only three females and I actually came in 12th. Butch beat last year's time on this course by 20 seconds and came in 11th; our club president took 10th. When the race was over, we added a new member, James Fye, to the SVTC club membership roster. Welcome, James!

More from Lost River. . .

Studying the moss and lichen. The girls discovered that some of the moss were miniature asparagus ferns, some were starbursts, some had antennas like an insect. They found four different kinds in all.
Crossing the creek. . .no one fell in.
Bumps on a log enjoying Cliff Bars and the view.

Cave Dwellers

Caves along the Howard Lick Trail in Lost River State Park.


Sunday, October 5, 2008

The "Babes" and I

My daughters will always be my "babies" and my granddaughters will always be my "grandbabies" (although repeated reminders from my friends have finally broken my habit of referring to the little girls as grandbabies!).
Eliza, now in second grade, seldom sits on my lap anymore. She is usually so busy doing things with me or engrossed in a book that I have to steal hugs. And at school it's "not okay to hug me because then the kids would tease me." But yesterday in Lost River I asked, "Eliza, are you to big for a piggy back ride? It's been a very long time." "I don't know," she answered. So I assumed the squat position and she climbed aboard. And then a few minutes and some quick foot adjustments later, Maggie hopped on for a "piggy front ride" as well. --Photos by Steven David Johnson.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Attitude Check

Still sore from increased mileage, I grumbled and moaned about sore knees and calves, and achy, slow legs as I waddled out the door this morning and started my Thursday trek down Morningside Drive. Then I rounded the curve and saw an elementary-school aged child maneuvering to his vehicle, his bowed legs supported by metal crutches. I waved good morning and complained no more.

Old Hands

My mom believed that eyes, indeed, "were the windows of the soul." But she also felt that hands were. She said you could tell much about a person by their hands -- the callouses or lack thereof hinted at the type of labor the person pursued. Well the hands on the left, above, are the hands of a 51-year-old gramma who spends much of the day pecking away on a computer keyboard. The hands of the 29-year-old on the right spin thread and yarn, weave, fix creative meals from unique ingredients, hug and snuggle her at-home children. . .
But I often wonder why the veins and bones of my hand, the one on the left, are so visible, so angular, almost harsh? And how did my daughter's come to be so soft, smooth and graceful?
These photos were taken by the careful application of my son-in-law's hands artfully choosing the appropriate settings on his camera and then, at just the right moment, snapping the photo on Magdalena Hope's first day of school.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Caution: ATBs Approaching

The beginning of last night's club run began perfectly. First Butch and I stopped at a day-old bread store and picked up 55 loaves of bread for the food pantry. Since I helped load and unload, I did a smidgeon of community service, something that's high on my "values" list. About five minutes after parking near The Runners' Corner, while getting up the stamina to warm up as we were still tired from Saturday's race and Sunday's 8-miler, Anna Maria and Magdalena went scurrying past the front of the car.
AM went to the driver's window and visited with Butch. Magdalena crawled into the car and onto my lap. After visiting a few more minutes, Butch left to warm up and I hauled Magdalena to the porch of The Runners' Corner. She wanted to look inside. Seeing a poster of a female running, she exclaimed, "Grammie! Look! That looks just like you."
Anna Maria was occupied with Craig, the store owner who was spinning a yarn about how I drink to support my running habit, or something like that. He told AM that I run just so I can help myself to a couple beers from his fridge downstairs. AM played along, recognizing that he was just being friendly, although she knows I don't do beer. Since Butch and Craig tease each other about being "beer drinkers with a running habit," I'm thinking that may be the reason Craig opted for that conversation opener. More relaxed and full of joy than usual before a club run, I DID visit a certain room downstairs (not the one with the refrigerator, though) and then headed outside. Magdalena gave me a hug and a kiss, and said, "We're going to leave now. Bye." AM also gave me a hug. Then Maggie took off running with AM jogging along behind. They were so cute!
But more importantly for me, they had taken time out of their day to enter my world and to hang for a few minutes with my friends. Nothing screams "I value you" louder than taking the time to respectfully enter and patiently absorb another's world. And I realized that is probably why George sent me the thank-you note for visiting his lab the other day; it probably DID mean as much to him as the invitation meant to me.
The group headed off. I hung with the club pres and Butch. We tried to be careful as we crossed streets. . .tried to watch for traffic. Too many cars speed, making it difficult to cross safely. Others make right-hand turns without even thinking about the crosswalk they're approaching and the potential foot traffic coming from the right. We ran down EMU, picked up a couple other club runners, crossed the end of the track, ran through a trail in the woods, down Park and back up Route 42 running on trails, concrete, asphalt and track. All four in one evening. I think that makes us ATBs: all terrain bipeds.