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.