Richmond Run

We know in our heads that no moment in time will ever be repeated.  That fact was very evident when running on the Richmond Spiders' Fred Hardy track after I took exams there on the weekend of December 5 & 6.  A sign on the gate said that the stadium (below) was being torn down starting Monday, December 8.  Above is a sketch of the new stadium.  

Paralegal Certification Exam

Well I'd have rather run a half marathon than take that test.  Sitting still goes against my grain, but I noticed it was hard for the proctor.  He refilled his drink bottle half way through each exam, and the entire time he sat in front of the room, his feet were tapping.  While it may have been nerve wracking to some, it actually calmed me -- it helped me to know I wasn't the only one having trouble sitting still. 

Morning exams didn't seem too rough, but afternoons were.  On the first day, I had plenty of time for the exam, so I actually closed my eyes for about five minutes and took a break.  On the second day, I got up and took a walk down the hall, grabbed some water, and returned to finish. And after two days of sitting, my post-test three-mile run on the track at the First Market Stadium at the University of Richmond was especially sweet (it is being demolished beginning Monday).  

Runners always want to know the results of a "race" the same day; we're not real patient when it comes to late results.  But sometimes we have to behave in a way contrary to nature, and sometimes those late results are good news -- like this week I received a plaque for earning first place in my age group at the breast cancer race.  I sure hope my February surprise is a similar outcome and I that I learn I'm one of the 60-70% who passed, as I won't be reimbursed for my expenses until February.

 

T.C.'s Race through the Chute

First grandson T.C. tried hard to race through the chute Tuesday, but he just couldn't squeeze through.  So he had some help by way of an emergency Ceasarian section on Wednesday morning.  T.C.'s doing fine now, as is his thoroughly exhausted momma.  But both should be coming home from the hospital today (Sunday). --photos complements of Noyes Memorial Hospital.

Lessons learned this week. . .

It's the first Saturday in weeks that I ran just for fun.  Well. . .half of my six miles was fun.  The first half, on the way to the "Plantation at Coote's Store" was 23 degrees and cold.  Mind you the "Plantation at Coote's store" is not an actual place; it's my nickname for my kids' home out in what formerly was called Coote's store, a name they'd like to see restored.  And "the plantation" is their homeplace, with enough land for a woods, and a hobby farm and organic gardening.

As I left my apartment though, the flag across the street was swaying in the breeze, and trees blocked most of the sun.  At the plantation (3-mile point) I fed Azul her breakfast; fed Frannie and cleaned her litter tray; and pushed, prodded and pulled Peanut Butter into a grassier grazing spot and re-tied him.  When I headed back down Brock's Gap for home, the sun was warming the pavement, providing heat from above and below.  I found my happy spot and lumbered back home at an 11-minute mile pace.

It was good to run just for fun again, though I was mighty hungry by the time I got home.  Two cups of coffee and an energy bar at 7 a.m. just wasn't enough for my 9 a.m. exploits.  

And that reminded me of lessons I learned from the last couple races.  Running races (or running hard) in Virginia-cold still demands sports drink in order for me to run well, even if the race is just a 5K.  Though I am obviously less in danger of dehydration, I find I need the sports drink for the calories and the energy; otherwise my legs melt into jelly.  I drink half as much (8 ounces instead of 16), but still find I need it.  And pumping my arms wider and higher makes the hills easier to climb.  

Two lessons learned.  They say that life-long learning helps keep Alzheimer's and senile dementia at bay longer.  So I guess I'm two lessons farther from senile dementia (Alzheimer's doesn't run in my family).  Now it's time for the other race I'm running -- studying for the paralegal certification exam next weekend.

Gutter Dance & Medal at Race #50

FCPRD's Thanksgiving Race began at Sherando High School's track, and then headed down the school driveway and alongside the parking lot.  Not three minutes in the race, I ended up in the gutter and tripped over a half-inch rise.  The impromptu "gutter dance" prompted a "Watch out!" from a male bass voice behind me.  As I shuffled to regain balance, the crowd dispersed and gave me room.  The race was a benefit for the Big Brother, Big Sister program of three counties (Frederick County being one). I chopped my way through a tree-root scattered trail, skittered on a gravel path and then shuffled across knobby grass before returning to run on pavement and the track.  The gravel and the grass slowed me down; having already come close to a face plant, I was a bit hesitant on the uneven surface.  Nonetheless my 28:25 minute time netted me a second-place medal for my age group and 144th overall.  Butch was two seconds behind me.  

This was race #50 this year;  so I made that goal.  I have also surpassed my goal of 600 miles, having just finished my 768th mile for the year.  

You inhaler, your pants, and YOUR SIPPIE!

When the granddaughters finished their first one-miler (see previous post) yesterday, I sat down immediately afterward and pulled off my outer wind-pants, and then my jacket.  I handed both, and my water bottle to AM to hold during the 5K, my 49th race for the year. 

Jogging away from them I said, "See ya in about a half hour."

And they said, "This one's not on the track?"
"Nope, road race."  

I suggested a couple good places to watch, and told them anyone could tell them where to go.  My good buddies George Gillies and Butch stayed ahead of me the whole way, but only by a few seconds.  I think I beat Jeff "The Fat Guy" Campbell, but only because he was injured.  The scenery was gorgeous, but it was a bit chilly.  And my legs ached a lot.

But the best view was Anna Maria, Steven (and his ever-present camera), and the girls at the last turn.  Also SVTC runners club participants, jogging their cool-down were just before them, and they cheered me on as well.  We runners sure need a cheering squad -- especially in the that second "third" of a race.

My buds were at the finish line, and we walked till my wheezing lungs eased up and I had reconnected with my inhaler.  "Five minutes -- we need to cool down," I told my family, sticking the inhaler back in my jacket that Maggie wore and didn't wish to part with.  Then George, Jeff, Butch and I jogged around the parking lot to cool off.

I had crossed the finish line in 28:39 -- not a great pace, but enough to make second place in my age group.  The winner came in around 24-something, and I've never ran anywhere near that pace. So I was very pleased.  

Eliza and I both took second in our foot races (though she was second female overall and I only second in my age group); and Magdalena took third in the turkey calling.  Butch was third in his age group.  So all participants in "the family" were winners.  Does it get any better than that?

As I walked toward the car, Steven handed me the things I'd given Anna Maria -- and forgotten about.   

"Here's your inhaler, your pants, and. . .your sippie!"  

Yes, it does get better.  Ending a race with a laugh.

"There weren't many females ahead of you, and you were somewhere around the middle of the third," Anna Maria said later.  

Cross Generation Run

The one mile race begins above; and (below) ends with one tired "turkey": Maggie. -- Photos by Steven David Johnson

I ran my 49th race for the year on Sunday afternoon, and the little girls ran their first race ever.  Butch and I "coached" them, and Anna Maria and Steven watched them and tried to ignore us -- the crazy grandma and quasi-grampa (they did cheer the kids' on though in their own quiet way--without making a scene). 

The girls' race was a mile, four times around a cinder track.  Butch mostly was at the far curve and I stayed near the finish line.  I warned them not to be tempted to start fast as everyone else would do; I said, "You'll see. . .the others will be walking by the second lap."

And off they went. . .near the last of the pack, just as they'd practiced.  And they stayed there near the end for a lap.  But then Eliza began picking off the other racers.  

Each time they neared the finish line, their big blue and black eyes would look up at me waiting for the next instruction.  I'd shout "on pace" or "slow down"; and say the number of laps remaining while holding up corresponding number of fingers.  It was humbling and frightening, knowing they were depending on me to get them through and to do so at their very best. The weight of those two pairs of eyes looking at me at every lap, and knowing I had to counsel wisely or they'd burn out with discouragement; they'd run too slow, not reach their potential and be disappointed, or. . . 

Butch at the other end would run a bit with them if they started to slow at the half-way point on the track.  

Liza did the first lap at 8 mile pace.  I yelled, "On Pace, Liza, just maintain." And I secretly hoped she would slow a bit as I knew that was two minutes faster than practice.  Second lap was right on, "Perfect pace, Liza.  You're doing great. Way to go."  Third lap, "Last one, Liza.  You're almost there. Hang in there."  And then near the curve she was slowing--nearly to a walk.  I ran up to her, "Come on, Liza.  Push it through.  Beat that girl ahead and you'll be third." She poured it on, and beat that gal. . . who was actually 2d and running with an adult.  So Eliza was the second female.

Little Maggie stayed at the back.  She's barely waist high to me.  And you know little Maggie only weighs about 39 pounds, and she's just a bitty little thing.  But she ran 4 times around the track in a steady energizer bunny type pace and never quit.  She kept the same pace doggedly going around and around, except one time.  Seeing her slow, Butch ran toward her and ran around the second curve with her.  Near the end, I shouted, "Come on, Maggie.  Go for it.  Pick it up.  This is the end.  Pour it on."  And she did. . .till near the finish line.  She misunderstood where it was and quit a bit too soon.  Had she kept on to the end, she'd have beat the gal in front of her.  Her daddy, camera in hand said, "Here, Maggie.  Here's the line."  And she crossed -- two minutes ahead of her practice pace.  

But both girls DID win something! Later Maggie came in third during a turkey-calling contest.  For the race, Liza won a glass paper weight encasing a fairy; and, for turkey calling, Maggie won a wooden one with flowers on it.

And I'm one proud gramma!