Tuesday's 10-Miler

We ran in temps in the mid-40s Tuesday on the same route we've been running.  Mentally I was ready to run--finally! (I've been feeling burned out or something). 

Three blasts from an air gun around the 3/4 point created an sudden increase in speed in me, action not missed by my real-time running buddy. 

"Know what that was?" Butch asked.

I did. . .and a few steps later noticed a road sign splattered with dents, as from a B-B or air gun and a posted sign on the back of it warning about damaging property being a criminal act.  Couldn't help but wonder if the two were connected.

A cool breeze at the end made us both cold. Except for a few minutes of cold, this run felt much better than the last couple.  Now it's the taper to the half a week from Sunday. I'd feel a lot better had I run 13 miles first, but I know I can do it. I ran a half marathon in January in the West Virginia Cold; 13 in Florida on flat land can't be too bad.

Red Alert

The weather service issued a red alert for Wednesday and Thursday, meaning property-damaging-winds as high as 50-60 miles per hour were coming.  We ran anyway, or at least tried to. Sometimes the wind blew me sideways. Heading up one hill, I was running as hard as I could but going nowhere. The wind held me fast. In the park, I watched and listened for creaking trees, but it seemed safe enough.

Today, however, on the way to a race in Stephens City, about an hour away, we counted at least a half dozen highway and road signs down. Another's post was bent into an upside-down "U" shape. There was also one uprooted tree, although the root ball was very shallow so it wouldn't have taken a whole lot to blow it over. And, of course, there were limbs littering the side of the roadway.

So while it may have seemed relatively safe here, there was wind damage all around.  The "red alert" was appropriate.  Today's race course, though, was clear, the wind had toned down to a breeze, and the temperatures were in the high 30s. Not a bad day at all for a race.

Knees, Arms, Breathe!

I've read several mantras, things people say as they run to keep them going. But I've been looking for something more rhythmic, something that pounds in my head like a drumbeat to my step. So I've played with several versions of the things my former running coach used to say: Knees up. Pump your arms. Breathe. 

But that's not rhythmic either. And then on a recent run when I wanted so much to quit because of the cold, I got it. Knees. Arms. Breathe! Those are my three problem areas, the areas I most need to concentrate on. 

I practiced the new mantra on yesterday's 10-mile run and it worked. When the wind pushed hard against me during the first three miles and I wanted to quit, "knees, gasp, arms, gasp, breathe" got me thinking about form instead of the hard push.  A fairly slow base drum tempo setting "Knees. . .Arms. . .Breathe!" paced me up the hills. And a much faster drum roll, "knees, arms, breathe; knees, arms, breathe" kept me rolling on the downhills.  

And that drum roll became a crazed drum solo as I raced the last few yards into my apartment parking lot. Hmmm, did I hear a cymbal's crash?

Another cold run. . .

Eleven degrees when I stepped outside this morning, and the flag across the street was swaying in the breeze. This year's running log shows no other morning with temps this low, and only two mornings with wind chills colder than this one. So this was a bit brutal. 

I put on two long-sleeved tees, two long-sleeved fleece tops, sweat and nylon pants, two pairs of socks and my ski mask and headed out after two precautionary hits on my inhaler.  We opted for the trail around the park, which was mostly bare.  We did have to pick our way around some icy and snow-covered patches; so that added a bit of variety to our normal routine there. The pea gravel track doesn't get very icy, but there were a few slippery spots.

It was slow going, but we did it.  And it really wasn't too bad after we got to the park where the trees block some of the wind.  I did have to stop once to catch my breath, but this felt like my best winter run--one of the slowest according to the clock.  But I felt good.  I managed to keep running and ignore the cold which I haven't done on the other cold days.

Now that I've "mastered" running in the cold, I'm ready for the predicted 50s and 60s this weekend!

Winter Run

The view on the way to the track today, after 3 inches of snow last night. The sun had melted most of the snow off the asphalt track leaving all but one lane covered in ice patches.  It was less treacherous running on the lane that still had a layer of snow on it.   

Candlelight Dinner

My son-in-law, Steven David Johnson took this photo of a classic, chaotic dinner at Grammie Nete's house.  Magdalena created the collage of candelight.  It was so cold outside that night that it took both my electric base heater and stand alone electric heater to warm the apartment; therefore all that candelight provided some additional and welcome warmth.  

Family of Runners

Yesterday I participated in an "Old Fat Man's Race", meaning that the host calls any race that starts at his home an "Old Fat Man's Race." Though the host is built more like line backer than the stereotypical runner, he is by no means fat and he can run at a pretty good pace. And if he's old then my 50+ years makes me ancient.

Nonetheless whenever I see an "Old Fat Man's Race", I know there will be a well organized event with lots of food and comradeship--like yesterday's race. He even lets us use the bathroom in his house and gather throughout his kitchen, dining area and living room.

After the 10K race in 38 degree temperatures, which he and volunteers from his family and workplace organized, we ate brats brought by one of the race participants, a medical researcher in Charlottesville who runs many races with our Harrisonburg group.  There's a couple other Charlottesville folks who often run with our group and we often run with them when there's a race in their area.

After the race results, a Mary Kay representative let us try some products geared especially for runners.  In her follow-up note to me, she remarked about being able to meet my "family of runners."  

She said it well. For me, every race run with this group is a family reunion where running just happens to be one event on the day's agenda. Outside of that main event, we catch up on family news, share each other's hurts and rejoice whenever anyone has a joy -- running related or not.  

And an Old Fat Man race is a great place for a family reunion.