Annual End of Year Stats

Miles ran in 2010: 608 (but there are several "shoveling snow" entries when I normally would have run)

Total miles run: 3,773

Races run: 24 (no half marathons this year; longest run was a 10K, 6.2 miles)

Causes supported: a community rec center, autism research, domestic violence prevention, education, scholarships for local students, a fire department, breast cancer research, the 116th Regiment (Stonewall Brigade) in Staunton, and a retirement home.

Winter Challenge

Unseasonably cold weather has hammered the Shenandoah Valley since the first full week of December. Then last Thursday, three inches of snow fell. Running has become a challenge already.

For the cold, drinking a full glass of water 30 minutes before a run helps regulate body temperature, as does dressing in layers. For me, temperatures or wind chills in the teens require tights and wind pants, three long sleeved tee shirts and a shirt sleeved tee, my ski mask, gloves, two pairs of socks--and my inhaler. With practice, a runner can figure out the appropriate amount and type of clothing. Information is available on the web and in running magazines also.

More challenging, however, is coping with the snow. When the snow isn't too deep, some run with specially designed traction devices added to their shoes, such as YakTracs. A friend of mine screws a few screws into his shoes for traction. Here in Broadway, however, finding a place to run after a snow is difficult. If one is willing to drive to Eastern Mennonite University, the college allows community members to run on the indoor track for free--when the college is open.

For me, driving 15 minutes for a 30 minute run doesn't make a lot of sense. Running the trail in the park is not an option until the snow melts, nor is running the outdoor tracks.

Running on the road, even if it's plowed, isn't safe because the shoulder is deep with removed snow. Additionally, if the wind is gusting, we face a tortuous 1.5 miles of wind at a time.

What we've done is run on the parking lot of John C. Myers Elementary school. The parking lot has a high section and a low, which provides a steep (albeit short) hill for rudimentary hill work. We run around the perimeter using the clock as an estimate of the number of miles traveled, and we estimate on the high side, adding a minute to the normal number of minutes it takes to run a mile. This option gets pretty tedious, but it works.

Another option we've used is to run in the subdivision near the school. Taking every cul de sac available provides a run of about 1.5 miles (again we run by time). This route is pretty hilly, too, and the houses block the wind.

Sometimes we just give up and cut the runs short--choosing a one or two mile as fast as we can tolerate and calling it speedwork. That was the option I chose for this afternoon's run with my seven-year-old grandaughter. With the wind and the cold, one mile on the hills of the suburb was enough. And the hot chocolate reward at the end was precious.

Lessons From My Podiatrist

For a couple years I have managed to keep the callous over my right bunion in check. But over time it has gotten the best of me. After a recent race, a painful blood-filled blister formed beneath the callous and I wasn't brave enough to shave the callous down to the blister, nor even sure that I should try.

And so I made an appointment with a podiatrist--Dr. Shilling of the Foot Care Center in Harrisonburg, Virginia. Scalpel in hand, he whacked away at that problematic callous, and also one on my right big toe, and another on the left foot. Sweet relief! That feeling that my skin was way too tight was gone. But while he worked he also passed on some foot care tips.

As a paralegal professor, I stand most of my working time. This obviously is not good for my feet and what is bad for my feet is also bad for running. He suggested Crocs band footwear. I checked out their website. I found some cute looking shoes appropriate for a professional working environment. When they arrive and I actually try them on for the first time, I will update you on my opinion of the shoes. He said the shoes have done wonders for his diabetic patients. They provide cushioning and support, and should keep pressure off my bunion.

He also talked about running surfaces. Treadmills, he said, are not good. Because the surface is flat and unyielding, a runner on a treadmill repeatedly exercises the same muscles again and again. Trails, he said, are best; the uneven surface forces your feet into varying positions which prevent pounding the same muscles in the same way repeatedly. Roads aren't as good as trails, but not as bad as a treadmill. Though a road surface is more stable and flat than a trail, there is still some surface variety for the muscles.

The third thing he warned me about is the importance of regular shoe fittings. Feet, he said, never stop growing. The rate of growth slows down tremendously as we age, but feet still grow wider and longer. Hence it is important to check a shoe's fit--whether new or ones that have been in the closet a while.

And the callous? I should be able to keep it shaved or pumiced to a minimum for a while, at which point it will get ahead of me and need the podiatrist's care once again. There are several tools available at the drug store. My preference has been a shaver made by Solinger (also available at a drug store). But the doctor also said a pumice stone or an egg-shaped pumice would do the job.

Right now the newly exposed skin on my right foot is a bit tender, but much better than it was before the scalpel did its healing work. As far as the foot care tips? I aim to do all I can to keep my feet happy, and to keep my runs as pain free as possible.

The Team in Pink

I picked up Eliza after church yesterday to take her to her first 5K, a turkey 5K in Bridgewater, Virginia. She wore pink running shoes, pink socks, fuchsia colored shorts, and a pink-striped shirt and jacket. I, on the other hand, wore a fuchsia long-sleeved technical tee over black nylon shorts stained with a large white paint splotch on the front.

We pulled into town at 1:07 p.m. and drove into the park. I pulled her hair into a pony tail and stuck the pony tail through her pink Nike running hat.

"You're stylin'," a friend told her later.

Excited, Eliza wanted to do a million things at once.

"We have lots of time before the race, sweetie. Let me show you the end of the course."

I walked her to the starting line, down the road through the park, and right onto the street. Shortly we came to a street on the left.

"I am trying to remember the end of the course," I said.

"Haven't you run it before?" Eliza asked.

"Well, yes, but you're talking about your grammie, who's always lost."

A couple blocks further.

"Here we go. See the white [lyme] on the road."

A streak of white marked the beginning of the turn, the turn itself and the end of the turn.

"That's what you'll watch for. Those arrows tell you when to turn. If there's no arrow, you just keep running straight."

We walked back to the park entrance.

"When you get here, Eliza, pour it on. Give it all you've got 'cause you're almost to the finish. Now you'll be wondering where I am and thinking I'm never going to come, but you just run as hard as you can."

A little farther to the chute. "See the orange cones? You'll run right down the middle of them as fast as you can. Someone there will pull the bottom off your bib."

"Why?" she asked.

"That's how they keep track of the race results," I answered. They pull them off as people run in, put them on a hook, and then they have all the numbers in the order in which they placed. I pointed to a 60s-painted blue van off to the right side of the chute.

"Wait for me right here," I said. "You'll think I'm never going to come, but I will. Just wait right here."

We then went to the registration table. "Tell them your name, sweetie."

She just looked at me with her "I'm too shy look." I stubbornly remained quiet and stared back. Finally, just above a whisper, she said, "Eliza Johnson."

Once we had our bib numbers, I showed her how to fold the top over just at the edge of the number, so that the number showed but not the writing above it.

"Why do you do that?"

"So it's more comfortable. Our torsos are small and the bib is too tall otherwise."

She tried to pin her bib number on, but I ended up doing it for her. I put on my racing flats, watch and Road ID bracelet. I looked at my cell phone.

"1:45, Eliza. It's time to warm up."

We walked to the gravel track and ran a couple laps. She ran incredibly slow and I began to worry about her ability to run the whole 5K, although we had run three miles together before. We finished our warm up, took a bathroom break, talked with a couple friends. By then it was 2:05 p.m. We went back to the track and, snuggled together against a breeze that felt chilly in the 58 degree temperature, watched a couple runners finish the one-mile run run. By then it was 2:15 p.m.

"I need to take off my pants and jacket, Eliza. Shall we head back to the car?"

Another bathroom break. I took off my pants while I waited for her. I tossed cell phone, jacket and pants in my car.

"Time for a couple stride-outs to warm up our legs," I said.

She took off for the mark, slapped it, and raced back. Then we went to the finish line.

"Sometimes I beat your grammie," Andi Miner said. "You can run with me if you get ahead of her."

"That's true, Eliza. She and I have taken turns beating each other," I said.

After a few announcements, SVTC club president and race organizer, Rich Ruozzi, hollered, "On your mark, get set, go. We were off -- Eliza way too fast, I thought.

"Eliza," I shouted. "Too fast. Slow down."

That's her coach, someone shouted as a pack made way for Eliza and I to reunite. Eliza slowed down and came alongside me for all of five minutes.

"How are you doing? Too fast? Too slow? About right?"

"Is it okay if I run a little bit ahead of you?"

"Sure, sweetie. Go ahead. Just remember to look for cars when you cross the streets."

Off she went. . .I saw pink run past the person ahead of me, past the person ahead of that one, past another person, past Andi Miner. By the time the basically flat course hit the only hill, at about the one mile mark, the pink disappeared.

"Oh God, please help her remember to be careful. Don't let her get lost," I prayed as I ran as hard as I could. I slogged up that hill and picked it up on a fairly long straight-away. About the two mile mark, as I made a right turn, James Fye, one of the course marshals shouted, "She's up there somewhere."

"Thanks," I shouted. Well, at least she made it this far, I thought.

Another right and on to the park entrance.

"Your granddaughter kicked your ass," Butch Proctor, my running partner, best friend and course marshal shouted. Then she made it all the way, I thought. As I had instructed her to do, I poured as much as I could into the last stretch. As I reached the chute, I saw Eliza, waiting exactly where I had told her to wait. I high-fived her.

"Way to go, Eliza. Did you think I was never going to make it?" I wheezed.

She just smiled. We grabbed bagel quarters and water at the refreshment table.

"Can we go now?" she asked.

"We really need to cool down, sweetie. Two laps around the track--real slow."

"Can we walk?"

"Sure. . " But as I started to jog, she maintained my slow pace.

"Can we go now?"

"Well, don't you want to stay for the awards?"

"Well, I know I didn't win anything, but, yeah, I'll stay."

We went to the "wall" where results were posted. She got there first, took a quick look, turned around and looked at me with a big smile. I went to see what she was pointing at. 28:32. Second place in her age group. Eliza, the only female under 11 years old.

We went back to the pavilion for the awards. When her name was called, shyness gone, she marched up and claimed her prize, a laser cube with the image of an eagle inside.

"They shall mount up with wings as eagles. . .they shall run and not be weary," I quoted from the Bible. Another big smile.

And then, a short while later, she cheered as I claimed third in my age group. After the awards, she watched as race organizers and I pulled tags in place order from the board. I explained that I'd use the tags to type up race results after the race.

As we left the park, "Can we stop for ice cream?"

She chose a caramel sundae from Dairy Queen, and ate the whole thing. As we neared her house, she said, "It was a good day, wasn't it, Grammie?"

Indeed. . .a very good day, I thought, as I signed her running log.

116th Regiment 5K

I lean toward pacifism and, based on my understanding of the issues, don't agree with the present military efforts. Yet for the fourth year in a row, I ran this race for the benefit of the 116th Regiment, for the benefit of soldiers who are preparing for deployment soon. Hypocritical some might say. But pacifism is about more than just avoiding war; it is about peace making. And part of peace making requires accepting those with differing opinions, those who make choices contrary to mine.

I do respect the members of the 116th whom I have met. They manifest attributes which I, too, strive to exhibit. Professionalism. Diligence. Discipline. Focus. Teamwork.

Today I started out a bit too fast and, almost immediately, passed the men in the Color Guard. For the first mile, my lungs burned in the 23 degree temps. All I could think about was the pain. And then I heard the steady cadence of the men trying to run at a set pace while carrying flags. Have you ever tried running without moving your arms?

One's shoe came untied. Another soldier surged alongside as the flag bearers slowed their pace. In a synchronized movement, the flag exchanged hands. The flag never stopped.

I heard the soldiers sing and chant in their strong base voices. I, on the other hand, could barely breathe, let alone sing. I settled into a pace about 200 yards ahead of them and let the beat of their voices push me along. Motivation for the rest of the race.

I finished in 2d place for my age group. The color guard finished soon after -- to the cheers and clapping of finishers, me included, standing near the finish line. As it should be.

Toby

I had just passed the turn around for my regular 5K run when Toby came running. Toby, a golden Labrador retriever-looking dog, lives in his own world most of the time. On occasion, like last Friday, he acknowledges my presence by joining me during the last half of my run.
Toby is not a threat to me, but he is a definite threat to himself. He lopes alongside for a spell, stops to mark his spot or drop a load, and then, without warning, runs across the road to check out the other side -- totally oblivious to any oncoming cars.
I have tried calling to him, but he ignores me. His owners, sometimes, will call as he escapes his property; he doesn't listen to them either.
The regulars who drive by seem familiar with Toby's escapades as they slow down immensely when they see him. Some even drive in the wrong lane to avoid hitting him. They give him a wider berth than they do me, the regular runner. I guess they know that I live by the rules of the road.
Besides the ever-present fear that an unknown would drive by and hit Toby, he irritated me in another way Friday. No matter how many times he stopped or detoured, he still managed to stay ahead of me or easily catch up to me. How can a four-legged dog playing rabbit beat me the turtle? Doing so defies the moral of the fairy tale. That he survives in spite of his avoidance of the rules of the road amazes me.
I guess there are always those who are just lucky -- those who can do their own thing and seemingly get by anyway.

Mind Games

Bart Yasso finished Comrades in southeastern South Africa with a body riddled from 33 years of pain and repeated flares of Lyme's Disease. He dragged his bad leg to an 11 hour, 33 minute and 38 second finish, missing his 11 hour goal by over half an hour (Steve Friedman, "The Race of his Life", Runners' World, November 2010, p. 98). How did he finish such a grueling race, especially since he was limping before he even started?

Bart Yasso, the motivational speaker who was, two nights earlier, referred to as "the Nelson Mandela of American running", finished by thinking of others.

"What are his problems, compared to the problems of the people watching the race, the poor South African children who live in villages where clean water is a luxury, where a pair of shoes is precious. He thinks of Paul Martin and his prosthetic leg. He thinks of Carri Lyons in Utah and her son she had heard from heaven, and of all the people who have approached him at this and other races and that makes his pain lessen, and it makes him wonder, yet again, how they could be inspired by him?" (p. 122).

Unlike Yasso, running for me is relatively easy. Yes, I struggle with lung pain and asthma. Yes, the outcome of a run is unpredictable. Some days the lungs behave; some days they don't. Statistics and journaling do not provide many clues as to what factors affect my ability to breathe. Yet even for me running is relatively easy -- though it doesn't feel that way in the middle of a race.

Like mile two of yesterday's Race Against Breast Cancer 5K. First, I told myself that I always struggle at mile two. Then I remembered the purpose of the race. . .raising funds for breast cancer research. And that reminded me of a lady for whom our church and I have been praying. She has been battling cancer as long as I have lived in Broadway; that's at least 2 1/2 years. I thought of her most recent hospital stay, and of her young children and husband managing without her, again and again. I thought about her most recent online journal entry--one in which she named all the ways she had been blessed. I willed myself to run as strong as she is.

I finished the race. And I finished strong. Thank you, Bart Yasso; thank you, Andrea Lohr.

Witnessing a Record

The granddaughters stayed over last night. The agenda? on Friday: watch a parade, supper, downtime and bedtime; on Saturday: snack and 7:00 a.m. run followed by second breakfast with Mommy and Daddy. Last night went as planned, and the girls were asleep by a little after 10.

Eliza woke up hungry at 7:00 a.m. this morning, as did Magdalena. I reminded Eliza that she should not eat very much or she might get sick while on her run. But two miles isn't a great distance, so I fixed both girls half a serving of oatmeal. Eliza had water to drink and Magdalena had a cup of hot chocolate. Knowing my stomach, I had just a cup of coffee. Magdalena grabbed a pad of sticky notes and a pencil; she would tick off the laps and keep time. We plopped stocking hats and ear warmers on our heads, flung jackets over jammies (mine were sweats and theirs passed the modesty and warmth test) and headed for the park.

"I'll race you on the first lap, Grammie," nine-year-old Eliza said.

"You'll beat me," I answered.

I showed Magdalena how to work my watch. She set it, hollered, "Go," and we were off. Eliza won, but not by much--about 2:40 according to the watch. Seven laps to go. I flung off my jacket. Magdalena reset the watch. And Eliza and I slackened our pace just a bit for the long haul.

We passed a couple walking. As I ran past them, I hollered, "Isn't it wonderful that she is running with me?"

"It sure is," they answered.

On the sixth lap, Eliza said, "I think I can go three miles, Grammie."
Having run a two-mile pace up to now, I wondered if I could still run three myself. Keeping my thoughts to myself, however, I said, "Okay, let's do it."

Seventh lap, eighth lap. Same pace. I said, "Just think, Eliza. Anything past this is a personal record."

"No, I've run 2 1/2 miles before."

Then on the ninth lap, Eliza slowed to a jog; but she didn't stop. On the eleventh lap, I was leading and she was dragging farther and farther behind. I slowed even more. "You okay, Eliza?"

She said she was. So we kept on going. Twelfth lap and final lap.

"Is the last one?" she asked.

"Yes, it is. You're almost there."

Then she took off. Soon she was soaring ahead of me.

"Good job, Eliza," I yelled. "You saved something for the finish."

"I always do," she answered.

I quickened my pace, almost caught her, and finished about ten seconds behind her. According to Magdalena's watch, we had run three miles in about 25 minutes. That is probably a little bit off, as it would have taken her a few seconds to stop and start. But I am guessing it is isn't too far off--maybe closer to 27 minutes?

As we headed for home, I saw the walkers again, "You just witnessed a personal record," I told them.

He said, "She ran a lot of laps!"

"She did. She just ran three miles."

I nearly cried. Eliza's response? I think I would like to run five miles one day.

You can do it, Eliza. You can do it.

After School Run

That's nine-year-old Eliza running two miles toward her "100 miles by the end of the school year goal." She will do it, too, because she has a plan. If she follows her plan, she will actually exceed her goal. "That's a good idea," I told her. "That way if you can't run for a day or two because of getting sick or injured, you'll still reach your goal."

"I know," she said confidently.

In fact she can run 2.5 miles without stopping now.

"I learned a trick," she said. "I just don't run as hard as I can."

That's right, I told her. "Running all out is for once around the track, maybe even a mile. But to go long you have to slow down."

Tonight was a two-mile night because she'd already run several laps at recess. About a year ago, she ran a one-miler and won her age group. And she was the first female in a track race during that same year. So she is fast. It runs in the family; her great aunt Andrea (my sister) was a fast runner in school and a cousin on her dad's side is a competitive runner. I, too, have a few medals and trophies on the shelf, though I didn't start running till I was 45 years old.

In spite of those two race successes, however, Eliza did not set any running goals or get the running bug until this year. I am not sure what changed her course, except she has said she will get a medal if she completes the 100 miles. Perhaps knowing Grammie runs races made her think that running is all about competition--against others. Perhaps hearing about that 100-mile medal made her realize that it does not have to be. And that would be important to Eliza; she does not like contests or competition. Sure, in a race, the first few at the front of the pack compete against each other. But only those first few win an award. The rest run to run, run to push themselves, or run for fitness. It matters not whether Eliza runs to win a race or runs to reach a goal. It doesn't even matter if the running bug sticks. But she is getting stronger. She is staying fit. She is choosing not to be a part of the obesity epidemic. And that is the important thing. And if she keeps running? Well, I DO love running with her!

Depression

My running buddy calls it the five-mile circle. I say it's a circuitous route containing several figure eights. And, while it may seem impossible, it seems that the route is all uphill. I am certain that, at each intersection, he stopped and looked to see which way was the hilliest -- and then chose that route. Some hills are a gradual 1/4 mile or more; some are short and steep.

The only way I've found to run this thing is to just plod along one step at a time without looking ahead too far and without thinking too much. One foot in front of the other, over and over and over again. If I look too far ahead and don't see the crest of a hill, the dread of the thing becomes too much. If I think too much about the pain and the exhaustion, the weight of my body gets to be too much.

"It's all mental," my buddy says. "Just keep putting one foot in front of the other."

He always can. Not me. On the really bad days, in spite of my best efforts, all I see is the hill ahead. Energy escapes like air from a slowly leaking tire; suddenly it just isn't there. I walk. Walking is discouraging. I try to convince myself that it's better than giving up. At least when walking, the legs are still in motion. Slow motion, yes, but still moving. My spirit, however, doesn't hear. Deflated, it says, "You caved. You quit."

Today was a bad day. Today the hills loomed unendingly. Somehow I was even too exhausted to look ahead. Too exhausted even for discouragement. Another hill? So what. It is what it is. Eventually this, too, will pass. Somehow it did. Somehow today I won. Today I ran.

Nicole Replenishes Broadway's Water Supply

I took a bike ride yesterday, October 2nd, to check on the North Fork. Tropical storm Nicole arrived on Wednesday evening. She brought a 24 hour rain and, in some places, a bit of flooding. Fresh mud along edges above the banks of the North Fork showed that she got pretty high, but receded soon after.
The river as it looked on September 8th. Since Broadway people get their drinking water from the North Fork, this was a frightening sight. 88 people in the Bergton/Criders area (up the river from us) have signed leases allowing hydrofracking on their property. It takes thousands of gallons of water to push oil out of bedrock. One of the questions is whether our water supply is big enough to handle the current need plus the drillers' needs. If that answer is affirmative, then the next question is whether the containment ponds will be sufficient enough to protect the river and, thus, the quality of drinking water, especially during floods.

Excuses Beaten; Pick It Ups Accomplished

I have been saying that it is time for speed work off and on for quite some time now. Nonetheless I create numerous excuses for leaving the stopwatch at home: bones, muscles or lungs hurt too much; it is just too hot; there is not enough time; it is time to rest in preparation for a race. . . .

This morning my hip bone hurt, whether from an injury or soreness after Sunday's hike I am not sure. So I said "no" to the planned five mile run and hobbled off just to see what would happen. Weight bearing, especially on the downhills, increased the pain. But, after the first mile and a half, I realized the intensity of the pain overall had not changed. So on a whim I quickened my pace from one telephone pole to another. No change in the pain level. Emotionally though picking it up felt good. So I slowed down to a jog between the next two poles and then picked it up again. That, too, felt good. So I repeated the pattern again and again for about the next mile. Sometimes the spacing of the poles required an uphill interval, sometimes a downhill. As the space between poles varied, I increased or decreased pick up speed depending on how long the space was. This mimicked my favorite speed workout -- repeats of different distances and intensities.

By the time I reached my street, I was feeling tired but quite proud of myself. I pushed up the hill and finished strong, and ended the workout much closer to my running buddy than usual.

Banishing excuses and running strong energized me. I think I shall try this again next week. Maybe I will even dig out the stop watch.

Sometimes the Best Training Run Isn't a Run

Yesterday I hiked White Oak Canyon Trail. . .4.6 miles in about 1 hour and 52 minutes. If you look closely at the photo above, you'll find the deer we saw. They calmly munched away, totally obliviously to the two-legged intruders upon their habitat.
This is a view from one of the bridges. The summer has been a dry one, so there wasn't much water in the stream.

The return hike was a wet one as a much needed soaker rain began pouring down on us. It was warm enough that being wet didn't cause much of a problem, though dry clothes once we reached the car were a blessing.

Though a bit sore from using different muscles, this morning I enjoyed a brisk run in mist and rain.

Sometimes the Best Training Run Isn't a Run

Yesterday I hiked White Oak Canyon Trail. . .4.6 miles in about 1 hour and 52 minutes. If you look closely at the photo above, you'll find the deer we saw. They calmly munched away, totally obliviously to the two-legged intruders upon their habitat.
This is a view from one of the bridges. The summer has been a dry one, so there wasn't much water in the stream.

The return hike was a wet one as a much needed soaker rain began pouring down on us. It was warm enough that being wet didn't cause much of a problem, though dry clothes once we reached the car were a blessing.

Though a bit sore from using different muscles, this morning I enjoyed a brisk run in mist and rain.

Feeling better

In my last post I stated that burnout seemed to have replaced the joy of running. As of this week, however, I have concluded that the threshold issue was as much physical as mental.

Evening temperatures have been in the high 40s to mid 50s and, thus, the temps during my 9 a.m. runs have also been much cooler. And with the cooler temperatures, my mood has also improved. But yesterday the nurse practitioner changed my asthma/allergy medication. I didn't time myself yet today; I was not ready for an objective, scientific check to see if my running ability improved. But I can say that I felt like I went out faster. My legs hurt as much as my lungs. I didn't need to use my rescue inhaler. I woke up without a headache.

This leads me to think that what I perceived to be a burnout was actually more physical than mental.

I am anxious to see how I do in Saturday's race, and I am thinking it may be time to start some speedwork.

Running Burnout

"Remind yourself that a run will make you feel better mentally and emotionally," (Howard J. Rankin, Ph.D., psychologist and author, as quoted in the Runners Training Log: Rodale Press, n.d.).

These days, unfortunately, that quote doesn't seem to hold true. I haven't timed my runs for some time as the results have been too discouraging. And I seem to walk as much as I run, which also discourages me. Additionally running just makes me feel tired and drained.

I don't know if the root cause is mental or physical. I do know, however, that a week off during two weeks of vacation in Iowa and New York did not help my mood any. And I had hoped that it would. I also hoped that a week of running in unfamiliar places (Ollie and Davenport, Iowa) would help; and those runs did feel better than my usual runs on Sunset Drive.

But I AM still running -- albeit not very far and not very fast -- and I hope that the mood soon improves and the joy of running and the invigoration that comes from running return soon. In the meantime, I'm running on sheer willpower and discipline, with a lot of help from my friends. Anyone with suggestions for curing burnout is welcome to e-mail me at anieta.mccracken@gmail.com. Just please be sure to put "running burnout" in the subject line so that, if I don't recognize your e-mail address, I'll still know you are a friend. Thanks.

Meditative Run

"Don't force your workouts. Run in the present, not how you ran 10 years ago or how you expect to run 3 months from now," Kim Jones, two time runner up, Boston and New York City marathons, as quoted in the Runners Training Log (Rodale Press, n.d.). Hot and tired this morning, I opted not to fight the fatigue. Instead I ran when I felt like it and walked when I didn't, and I did a lot of thinking.

Since April I've been working weird hours -- sometimes 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.; sometimes 4 p.m. to 12 a.m.; sometimes 8:30 a.m. to 10 p.m. No matter what time I go to bed at night, I insist on rising by at least 7 a.m. My stubborn self demands some semblance of routine amidst the chaotic work schedule. And I have found that I can run well on five or six hours of sleep once, but 48 hours later I am sluggish and fatigued. Someone told me that our bodies operate on adrenalin when the schedule demands it, but then insists on a recovery period afterward.

Our bodies insist on homeostasis, a "relative constancy or equilibrium in the internal environment of the body. This balance is naturally maintained by adaptive responses that promote a healthy survival" (Regina M. Masters and Barbara A. Bylys, Introducing Medical Terminology Specialties, F.A. Davis: Danvers, MA., 2003).

And homeostasis cannot be maintained in a chaotic, stress filled life. So the body demands rest and relaxation after work and begs for routine. Routine isn't going to happen as long as I juggle two part-time jobs, but that chaos is a necessity for now. And while chaos reigns, my running ability will suffer.

I have to accept that. I have to run in the present and avoid forcing my workouts. And meditative run/walks do have one advantage; it's easier to pray and think when moving at a slower, restorative pace.

Shenandoah River Front Run

Ran the Shenandoah River Front Run, one of my favorite races, at 7:30 a.m. This time I couldn't smell the river as I ran past, but seeing campsites alongside the road and seeing the river glimmer made me homesick for the Mississippi and the "Waupsi" in Iowa. It also made me anxious for a planned camping trip with my bros and sis, and their families. I am as excited as a kid during the last week of school.

Anticipation was reigned in, however, when Andi suggested breakfast after the race. And that is how I and five other friends came to be gathered around a table at the Smokin' Pig in Elkton talking about, among other things, Iowa, rivers and tornadoes.

George is headed for Iowa City and the University next week, he said. Joe has lived in the Midwest and knows the heat and storms that threaten and torment the people there in the late spring and summer. Storms, he says, that have been more frequent of late here in Virginia, though not as violent as the Midwest storms.

And I told the story of my midnight ride in a tent camper during a tornado in Iowa. Then I tried to grab the girls from the bunk where they slept, but they were bouncing around like popcorn. Somehow they slept through the commotion. The roof of the tent camper was peeled back. And the following morning we learned the camper was about two feet from where it had been parked the day before.

The possibility of 100 degree temperatures, high humidity and thunder storms hasn't dampened my excitement or anticipation for another McCracken camp out. There will be lots of laughter, bonfires, good food and conversation.

Conversation just as good as the one at the Smokin' Pig where friends who've run a lot of miles together stopped to sit a spell and get to know each other just a bit better than before.

Experiment with Subjects & Verbs

Sweat oozes. Feet slap on pavement. Breeze cools. Inky sky threatens. Rooster crows. Invisible fence holds back barking dogs. Grasses and daisies undulate. Honeysuckle perfumes air. Nausea predicts vomiting. Prevented Butch from passing till mile 2.5.

Working the Hills

After slogging along in a fairly lazy fashion (except for races) since last winter, I decided to work the hills instead of collapsing before them -- tucking in my back side, lifting my arms higher, taking shorter steps. Last Wednesday I felt tired before the last run of my 5K. But today, after a Monday trail run and hike, I felt much stronger.

The decision to work the hills instead of give into them reminded me of my youngest daughter's attitude toward failure and challenges. She doesn't give in to pity. Nor does she allow herself to become a victim. I'm not sure she even allows any time for pity. Instead she sizes up the challenge, works out a plan and moves on. When she was in elementary school, her creative choices weren't always the best ones and she found herself at odds with her teachers and mom on more than one occasion. But now she's older and wiser, and I find myself envying her gumption.

Gumption that I managed to find before the hills last week and this. Gumption I hope to find before the next challenge.

Hard Times Don't Last Forever

I ran three miles today at 28:44 pace -- nothing stupendously fast, but a goal I didn't obtain in all of 2009.

As I was looking at my running logs, I was close to today's time a couple times later in 2008. But things went downhill fast in January 2009--lots of lung pain, asthma, and hard runs. Then in April I came down with hospital pneumonia and was in the hospital for three days. (I almost bit the dust).

I remember coming home from the hospital and finding that I, who had run two half-marathons earlier in the year, couldn't run half a block. I pushed hard to land on my feet, too hard in fact. And I was sick again later in the summer.

On a day of deep discouragement, one of my running friends told me that it would take about a year to recover completely from the pneumonia. Believe it or not, that was encouraging. I knew then that the problem wasn't a lack of effort; what I needed was time to heel. So with lots and lots of encouragement from my running friends, I did manage to keep slogging along in 2009. My slogan for 2010, though, has been "back again in 2010". The year didn't start off well with all the deep snow hampering training runs, but then today there was this great run. I am so very encouraged. Although I know not all my runs will be at this pace, the PR reminds me that hard times really don't last forever. They just seem like they will when you're in the middle of them.

The Security Blanket Returns

Last Sunday was a nice break from the cold, but high winds and cold temps have combined to make this week another mostly miserable week for running. Even so we did manage a couple 5Ks, though I'm back to wearing my security blanket sweatshirt. It's been a very cold, deep snow winter and I'm ready for it to end. I want to run the March Madness 5K in Gypsy Hill Park in a couple weeks and, with the running I've been doing, I fear it truly will be a run instead of a race.

Train to race or race to train -- that was the question raised in a Running Journal article this week. I think I am primarily a train to race person; I want to train hard so that I can race well. Others, like my running partner Butch, race to train. He uses races as speed work. If I was more like him, I'd be less stressed about the upcoming March Madness 5K. Instead I am stressed for fear I won't run well instead of being excited about an opportunity for a 5K training run.

Spring? January Thaw in February?

Has spring sprung? Or are we just getting a January thaw very late in the year? Whichever it is, after today's run, I found myself mesmerized by the tiny stream flowing from beneath a mound of snow and across the entrance of the apartment parking lot. Moving water. Tiny bubbles of ice crystals floating on top. Visibly smaller mounds of snow turned into weird-shaped sculptures depending on how the sun has hit the mounds. Sun on my exposed face as I ran without my face mask or my sweatshirt, sans security blanket.

Earlier, even though weather.com said the temperature would be in the mid-40s today, I still dressed for my run in that sweatshirt placed over a cotton tee over technical long sleeved tee. And I wore wind pants over running tights. When Butch came to the door dressed in shorts and cotton tee, I knew I was overdressed. But I've been wearing that sweatshirt for so long.

"I don't know what to do," I said. "Do I need my sweatshirt?"

I stepped outside. The sun felt warm, but the breeze was just a bit biting. I took a deep breath, summoned up a bit of courage, pulled off my security blanket against the cold and headed out. Surprisingly, after three weeks of ice-dancing, two-mile hill runs, and snow shoveling in record cold, I still felt strong and finished today's 5K only 30 seconds shy of this year's course record. Obviously I have lost a little of the gain I had made earlier this winter, but not nearly so much as I had feared. Anything really has proven better than nothing. Nonetheless I am itching for some speed work and some long runs in good weather.

Even Water Doesn't Always Run Downhill

There is still no safe place to run around Broadway. Sidewalks aren't shoveled out. Shoulders are buried in mounds of snow. But, finally, the elementary school parking lot was almost bare on Friday, so we ran around it for a time period equal to at least two miles (we allowed 12 minutes per mile because of all the turns and a couple icy patches just to be sure we got in a full two miles).

And then we ice-danced our way back to my apartment where we found this proof that even water doesn't always run downhill! The "uphill effort" of running during temps in the single digits and teens for an unusually long period of time, and during the highest snowfall since 1996, has been really rough. Were it not for Butch, my running buddy, I'm sure I'd have given up trying. Besides running, I've also had cardiovascular workouts through shoveling snow and jumping rope. I hope that this winter's "hill workout" is better than nothing and that the benefits will appear come spring.

One Mile of Ice Intervals and Stride Outs

Streets are slippery in spots and mostly snow covered after just an hour of snow (on top of the 20+ inches we got over the weekend). If we were really dedicated, we'd have run in place, I suppose. Instead we opted to run hard up the hills, do stride-outs on the only small piece of parking lot in front of the elementary school that was not icy, and dance over the icy patches. We did this for 15 minutes and called it a mile.
The chunks of ice that have fallen from the roof and toppled the shrub in front of my apartment.
The maze of parking spots and walk ways.

No Run Today

There's a second car in the front of this photo. . .all you can see of it is three spots of teal.
My car is nearly out. Two neighbors helped shovel.
As you can see the the snow is up to my back side, and the shoveled snow even higher.

Running Free

I don't know why yesterday's post has arrows on it; I didn't do anything different, not do I know how to get them removed. Oh well. . .on to today.

I ran 3 in 30:06, and I'm very proud of myself I might say. This is better than I did a year ago, pre-pneumonia (and I'm sure you're getting bored about hearing everything in terms of pre- and post-pneumonia, but it's my new base line, my latest start-over point). Pre-pneumonia I was running 5Ks somewhere around 8:45 to 9:30 pace in spite of slow training runs.

At the beginning of the year, I put a sticky note in my running journal with 2010's fastest runs in it, and today's 3-mile track run was also a 2010 best (not that we're very far into the year, but my motto for this year is "back again in 2010"). Both the 2009-2010 comparison and the sticky note indicate that I truly am getting better.

But running is actually fun again also and it has been for a couple weeks. Many days I find myself lost inside my head working out a problem, planning the day, or just thinking things through. And that's important, too.

Today I ran on the track and enjoyed being lost inside my head, not worried about time but just running to run. And the time was one of the better ones anyway. Sometimes the best runs are the relaxed runs, where you just let the legs fly and enjoy being free.

Flooding in western Virginia

According to news reports this morning, heavy rains yesterday and today of up to 1/2 inch to 1 inch per hour feel causing flooding in the area. Parts of neighboring Augusta County were evacuated. On this morning's run, the ditches were full of rushing water. Streams flowed and springs burst forth where none were before. Earthworms were flushed from their burrows and onto the road where they met their demise. We met a high school runner out running; area schools are cancelled. I smelled the spray of a skunk (did it think it could frighten away the torrential rains?).All reminded me of the disaster in Haiti and the flooding in other parts of the county. Except for thoughts of concern for those less fortunate that floated through my head, the ion loaded, rain-cleaned air and temperatures in the mid-50s made for an especially good run.

Nearly Forgotten End of 2009 Running Tallies

Total miles run this year (year 6): 658.5

Total miles run: 3,165.0

Races run this year: 31

# of states run in: 5 Florida, Maryland, New York, Virgnia, West Virginia

Race lengths: 1 mile to Half Marathon (13.1 miles)

Charities sponsored: many including youth groups and programs; autism, breast cancer and heart research; domestic violence awareness; literacy and the 116th Infantry.

The Dress

It is finished! After about a month of working with me or her friends, Anna Maria finished this dress, which she wore to a friends' wedding Saturday. It took the two of us together three hours just to blind stitch the rolled hem! Though I made both daughters' wedding dresses and the dresses for their wedding parties, I haven't worked with velvet since high school. The technique did come back to me quickly. Just like riding a bike, there are some things a person never forgets (although I did occasionally check my memory against instructions in the "Simply the Best Sewing Book" by Simplicity).

The project provided time for problem solving when the dress lining didn't fit quite right after the first trial and time to just chat while the sewing machine whirred or the needles whipped through the soft cloth. Team work.

Would I have worked on such a project had my daughter not needed the help? Probably not. My sewing machine has been idle for the last year and a half. But as I've learned through running with partners and as the dress project reminded me, a partner helps you keep going when the going gets tough and helps fulfill dreams you never even dared to dream.

Recovery

In April 2009, I spent three days in the hospital with pneumonia. It was the week before a paid-for half marathon. When I asked the doctor if I'd still be able to run the race, he said I could do whatever my body felt like doing. I took that to be a yes. But once I got home I realized I couldn't even walk one block. The race was out. Instead I watched from the sidelines as my friends ran it.

Because the amount of damage to my lungs was unseen, I didn't understand just how much fitness I had lost. I figured I'd bounce back quickly. Every day I added a bit more distance; a week after my hospital stay I could run 1/4 block. Two days later I ran two miles, which was stupid. On the April 23rd, about two weeks after my hospital stay, I thought I could build up my speed again; another failure to face reality. I was racing by April 25th, and continuing to work on speed and distances (I ran seven miles on May 19).

By July 9th I was coughing again, and on the 25th I learned I had pleurisy and crackles in my lungs again. Once again I tried to run myself well in spite of chest pain. I ran a 5K in August at 28:27, near my pre-pneumonia pace. By October I was coughing and fighting lung pain again. This time it was bronchitis.

Finally I came to realize that I'd just keep relapsing if I didn't slow down and accept my post-pneumonia pace and distance. A review of my log shows a continuing struggle with lung pain; but also more instances of races not run, efforts at running slower when the lungs hurt and a concentration on keeping the breathing steady. I was learning to listen to my body and accept my physical state.

And that's when things also began to improve. I ran more and had to walk less. Sometimes, on a bad day, I only ran two miles. Once I ran a slow five miles. But I was running an entire three miles more and more consistently. Then on New Year's Eve I ran a hard sub-30 minute mile and still felt well afterward. The following week, in spite of wind child temperatures in the teens, I ran with little lung pain. Once I started listening to my body, I actually started getting better.

Runner's World repeatedly talks about coming back from an injury or illness slowly. Actually doing so is much harder, as it's very difficult to figure out exactly how much damage has been done, how slow to go and what distances to run. Sometimes, as I came to realize, the damage can be far greater than once expects. Coming back can take a lot longer than a person wants to accept. It's easy to deny reality and try to run yourself well. But that doesn't work.

In running, as in life, you must determine where you are before you can go somewhere else with purpose and direction.