Unfriendly Air

My lungs half filled themselves with the foggy, oppressive, heavy air this morning, and then spewed it all back out again.

"Enough of that stuff," they seemed to say.

I walked the first hill, even though I'd used my inhaler twice.

"It's going to be a long three miles," I thought.

I tried cleansing breaths. Sighs escaped unbidden. I tried running slower and slower. Nothing worked. I walked all the hills till I reached the turn-around point. And then I walked the next quarter mile. Butch turned around and ran back to check on me.

"Try using just the same effort on the hills as you do on the flat," he said.

"I am. And that seems to require a walk today. . .Oh. . .another hill already. I'm going to try hard."

He ran on ahead. I plodded on, managing a jogging pace up that incline and the next one. At the crest of the second hill, I saw a tiny white-haired lady with the typical 50-year-old hair cut wearing a duster type coat and a purse over one shoulder.

"Morning," I hollered.

"Your pace seems the more reasonable one," she said.

Cheerleaders are always welcome on a run. I picked up the pace just a tad and soon realized I could actually breathe again. Apparently my lungs decided the air, laden with heavy mist and a tad bit of wood smoke, wasn't so evil after all. I didn't have to walk any more.

Tough Girls Don't Quit

6:15 a.m. I rolled out bed, 45 minutes before my usual time.

6:25 a.m. I ate my usual breakfast of oatmeal with milk, fruit and almonds.

7:15 a.m. I was out the door and headed for "the big squeeze" at the Women's Clinic.

8:45 a.m. I was back home dressing for my usual run.

9:00 a.m. I headed out the door.

1/4 mile point. I gasped for air in the 18 degree wind chill. "I . . .forgot. . . my. . . inhaler," I told my running partner.

1/2 mile point. "I am. . . just going. . . to run. . . two miles," I announced. We headed for the park, a bit of respite against the gusts of wind. A skiff of snow covered the road and trail. A few slow jogging steps revealed no icy spots, so I picked up the pace a bit. Gusts of wind shoved me around now and then, but not enough to knock me off the trail. Gasps for air turned into steady, hard breathing as I found a pace that matched my limited ability to breath.

2nd mile point. "Still here," I shouted to my partner, who was only a few steps ahead of me. Determined now to run my usual three miles, I stopped praying for others and began reciting my desperation mantra.

"Knees, arms, breathe. Knees, arms, breathe."

At the top of a hill, I realized I was maintaining my running partner's pace. Now he had had a root canal yesterday and was still hurting a bit. Nonetheless the fact that I was still with him in the wind sans inhaler encouraged me. I determined to maintain the pace.

2 1/2 mile point. My early breakfast fuel ran out. With knees of jelly and lungs aching, I approached the last hill.

"I think I can, I think I can" turned into "Tough girls don't quit" sung to the tune of "Big Girls Don't Cry".

I remembered my partner's past commands to "maintain the running motion" and urged myself on. I slogged over the crest of the hill and down to the finish line. This girl didn't quit. (But I hope I do remember my inhaler next time!)

"I Want to Run"

"I want to run," were the first words out of Eliza's mouth when she woke up at Grammie Nete's house Saturday morning.

And so we bundled up against the 20 degree air and headed for the park. Sister wasn't interested in running and I had arranged to run with my running partner later in the day, so we counted laps towards Eliza's two-mile goal.

The last time she ran with me, she couldn't run more than one lap (1/4 mile) without getting winded. She had been sick and out of school for a week with a nasty cough and fever. She said that she just couldn't run in the cold; it made her cough.

I said, "You've been sick for over a week, and with a lung thing. You'll see. You'll get your strength back."

She ran Saturday without a walk break and in the cold. As we walked back into my toasty apartment, Eliza said, "I really want to reach my goal. I don't know why, but I really, really want to do that."

Her goal is 100 miles.

I don't have her enthusiasm. For me running has just been something else to tick off my to-do list. It is hard and it hurts. Lately though I've used my inhaler before every run and find I am running stronger. Lungs hurt less. Today I hit the hill at the park hard on every lap. And it actually felt good to do so, to work hard.

Perhaps the encourager has become the encouraged one. Isn't that how it often works? When we set out to encourage or bless another, it's oftentimes we ourselves who really receive the blessing.

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.