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.