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!

To Run or Not to Run. . .that was the question

Somewhere between 25 and 30 degrees with windchill factors taken into consideration I can't run outside safely.  My lungs freeze up and I can't breathe.  This morning the windchill was 27 -- 32 degrees with wind.  I had awakened at 3:30 a.m. with lungs hurting.  So I was particularly concerned about heading out.  

But I didn't run yesterday, so I headed out anyway after a couple precautionary hits on my inhaler and some coaching from my running partner.  We decided to run to the hardware store after a two-lap detour at the park.  Having a destination run helped.  I'd actually have been colder had I driven to the store as it's only a half mile there and back, so my car wouldn't have warmed up before I got to the store.  So better to run there than drive, and once I was out, it wasn't so bad.  

The sun was warm on the pavement, but the wind bit my cheeks.  I concentrated hard on breathing in through my nose, warming up the air before it hit my lungs.  We got to the park and ran two laps, mostly protected by trees there.  Soon I was sweating, and took my sock-mittens off.  The wind still nipped at my cheeks, but my lungs were okay.  Actual oxygen levels though were low; I had to walk a couple times on the hills.  

At the store, we picked up plastic for my windows and mouse traps -- eviction procedings for Butch's latest roomate. 

Precipitation. . .most likely rain.

Seven-year-old Eliza Grace carried a hand-made paper wind sock as she walked home from school yesterday. She, Magdalena and I stopped at my apartment, adapted our attire, and met up with Butch. As we walked to the track for a one-mile run, she talked about the wind sock and how it measured the wind.
I pointed at the clouds and asked, "What do you think those clouds tell us?"
"Precipitation," she answered. "Most likely, rain."
And here in Virginia, that IS true. But yesterday, the clouds apparently warned of our first snow.

# 48 -- for the cross country team in Berryville

Six mile cross-country race in sunshine and 55 degrees yesterday -- shorts and sports top weather. Perfect racing as it had just rained and the air was crisp. There were puddles to dodge though. "Chop" your way through them; keep feet flat: that was Butch's advice, who beat me by about 55 seconds.

This was a loop around a cross country track of grass and trails. One stretch went between two stands of trees. After the first loop most of the runners dropped off, as they had opted for the two-miler. And I pulled off my shirt, as I had dressed for cold rain, not expecting that the sun would come out.

After the second loop, a few more opted out. And the race volunteers yelled at me, "You're almost there -- right here's the four mile mark."

But I kept going and the expression on their face looked like a bit of surprise. But on the third time around, the six mile point, they were screaming, "You made it! Just 600 yards to go. . ."

And Butch was waiting just before the finish line. Because I had never been that far behind him, he was worried about me. Usually I'm that far ahead of him; but he was super fast today and there was no way I could keep up! His injuries are definitely all healed.

Funds raised at this race helped the cross country team with travel costs to go to nationals.

Dreaming of some R&R

Five miles Tuesday evening, which I managed by envisioning an upcoming week of rest and recovery. Just one more class before break, a weekend without a race, no work in site except studying for the paralegal certification exams.

Classes ended last night as planned. And today was going to be finding my way through the piles in my office, a project in which I made more headway than planned yesterday. But then there was a note from my editor -- three story assignments. Good news, as there'll be no teaching income next week. And my running partner found a race for this weekend, so scratch that break as well. And my daughter is still waiting for that baby, so add a quick "run" to New York.

Well I guess I will just keep running through life -- figuratively and literally -- for a few more days. Today's race begins with an appointment at 9 a.m. and another at 1, an easy track run at 3:30 . . .

But I am taking a break tonight to watch a play! And tomorrow SHOULD be restful, once I leave the dentist's office in the morning.

SVTC Crazies Run Back to Back Races

I slogged through the 116th Infantry race in Staunton Saturday morning at 8 a.m. Butch, Jeff Campbell, George Gillies, Rich Ruozzi, Joe Rudman -- so good to have so many of the regulars there. It ws long sleeved, tights race, but not bad at all. I finished somewhere around 28:08, and Butch at 27:58.

From there we changed into dry shirts and rushed to Bridgewater, where we warmed up bones that had gotten cold already during the 20 minute drive. After registering and a slow warm-up, we took off again. This time I ran 30:30 -- even slower. Joe, too, did a double; so there were three SVTC "crazies", as our president called us, who ran back to backs Saturday.

I Nearly Cried. . .and Wish I Had Taken a Picture Earlier

Yesterday was the anniversary of my mom's passing from lung cancer; she also had breast cancer. Her funeral was on the 8th of November. At the time, the church at which my then-husband pastored didn't even send a note or flowers; and no one visited from there. Yet when I picked up the girls from school yesterday, on the anniversary of Mom's passing, Eliza carried two packages wrapped in tissue paper and tied with a ribbon. She handed them to me and said I had to wait till I got home to open them. Anna Maria said Eliza had a special reason for making this present, but Eliza got embarrassed and didn't want to say. So AM said, "Eliza knew you were sad about Gramma Dot; she made this for you because she thought it would make you feel better." When I got home I pulled off the tissue paper. Two pint sized canning jars filled with hand-made bath salts -- made with food coloring-dyed Epsom salts, and lavender. Ooohhh, it smells so nice. Eliza and Magdalena know that I love my baths, that there in the tub with a magazine, hot chocolate and a snack, I often find comfort. I was so overwhelmed! I wish I had snatched a photo, but will have to do a posed one later and add it to this blog.

Another Saturday. . .another race

Race number 45; 5 more to go before I reach my goal of 50 this year and I took second in my age group. Club President Rich Ruozzi took third in his group, as I recall, and member Joe Rudman placed first in his age group. It 30 degrees when I left home, right at the edge for me. The elephant on my chest stayed with me till the end of about mile one. "Concentrate. Breathe," was my mantra. The pain eased but never went away. During that race I also hit my 700th mile for the year -- the highest mileage in a year since I began running in 2003.

According to an e-mail I just received, I took first in my age group at the Breast Cancer race. Mom's wedding anniversary would have been yesterday; her funeral was a week ago on the 8th.