Proud Gramma

Ha! and you thought this would be another photo of me, didn't you. But I am no longer the only proud gramma in my family of origin, so this entry is about Grannie Annie and Harper, my great nephew. His tee says, "What happens at Grandma's stays at Grandma's." And that would be proud Grannie holding Harper in the photo below! This was Gramma and Grampa's first time babysitting, so I told them they had to use an egg timer to track how long each held the babe so there'd be no fighting. Seriously though it WAS tough to remember to share when Eliza was born. . .whew! I wanted her all to myself all the time. . .

Sopping Wet but Twice as Fast

It was in the mid-50s and pouring rain when I left Broadway this morning at 8ish for a 5K/10K fundraiser race/walk for breast cancer research. Couldn't help but think of Mom who had breast cancer, and died of lung cancer; and of a runner and politician whose wife lives just up the road a bit and had her third breast cancer surgery this week.

Getting out of the "chute" was a bit tough -- awful crowded, but I've learned to just go with the flow and not fight that too much. There's always a chance to make up the time later, and it prevents starting too fast. Just before mile two, though, my left shoe came untied. I had forgotten to change into my racing shoes, and thus forgot to knot the bows and tuck the ends under the strings. So I lost a minute or two there. Soon I saw my friend Laura who was running her first 10K.

By now puddles swallowed up about half of a lane on the roads. Fallen, wet leaves and pine needles threatened to snatch my legs out from under me. Uphill the going was just a tad slippery. And I'm finding it a bit difficult to know how to dress these days. Today I opted for tights as my legs get cold when it's this cold; tights less irritating than looser pants. I also chose a short-sleeved tee shirt, as the long sleeved I wore last weekend was just a bit too much. By the time I crossed the 10K finish line I was cold and my hands were too numb to pull the tab off my race number. So I think the tee shirt was okay, but gloves would have been nice. The sopping wet sleeves of a long-sleeved tee would have felt like a straight jacket. Maybe one of my long sleeved technical tops would have made sense.

For two of the last three miles I ran solo. . .I've gotten used to that. Then about half a mile from the finish, I ran into the walkers who were finishing up the 5K. They walked six or more across, many times oblivious to the runners trying to get around them. So I'd holler, "On your left" and head for the gutter alongside the road. The first two groups completely ignored me. In one instance I nearly shoved my way through because nobody would let me by. Perhaps they were lost in conversation or something; but that sure was rude. I've learned to be a bit aggressive in such situations though. . .and just push my way through anyway.

When I'd shout, "On your left," for the last few groups, they made room. And they hollered and cheered me along -- as I did them. They may have been walkers, but they sure had the running spirit. And I felt empowered -- I was doing 10K faster than it took them to run 5. Usually I'm running my races at half the speed of those in the front, and I'll cheer those front runners for all I'm worth when I see them coming my way, having passed the turn-around long before me. Now I know how they must feel!

I crossed the finish line in 57:51, and kept on running -- to the car where I had warm clothes waiting. I called AM on the way home, thinking she might be heading in to Broadway and thus able to turn the heat on in my apartment for me. When I told her I was cold, and before I had a chance to ask for a favor, she said, "Well, WE have a warm shower AND a fireplace. How about if you just come over here?"

So I took advantage of a hot shower there, and then drank hot chocolate with two toasty warm little girls sitting on my lap. I was warm again in a hurry. . .

#43 - Staunton Ten Miler

It was about 45 degrees when we left Broadway this morning at 6:00 a.m. I was tempted to stay home, but Butch reminded me, "About 9 o'clock you're going to hate yourself for skipping this race you've been so looking forward to."
And this was an awesome course -- much better than last year when I ran it at 1:47:33 and took second in my age group. Last year the course had 28 turns and almost no break from the uphills. This year we ran down Beverley to Commerce, and then took a turn onto a country road where even the cows cheered us on with their contented moos.
Volunteers cheered, yet remained attentive to task and didn't let anyone miss a turn. They warned of lane switches and upcoming turns in plenty of time to adjust pace and course. All I had to think about was running.
Club member Marlin Yoder couldn't run the race as he's still recovering from taking first in his age group at an Ultra (100 miler) a couple weekends ago. But that didn't stop him from cheering us on. Near the end he ran with me for a ways through Gypsy Hill Park -- cheering me on, pushing me to run just a bit harder than I thought I could, reminding me that I was just almost there. And then he said, "I'm going to catch Butch next. . ." Which he did. . .he said it was about as fun to cheer as it is to run the races. Well, I don't know about that, but I DO know that I ran much faster than I thought I could and did this course at 1:33:30. And I think that push and some loud cheers from club members at the end let me reach that time.
SVTC club member Carmin Green was the first female. Jack Marmestein from Rosetta Stone, who often runs with our group during races but isn't a member, was the first male. Butch and I took third in our age groups. Another club member also took third place in her group. So the Club cleaned house again.

Toby: Our New Best Friend

Toby after his jaunt of disobedience. . .
An adventure on Tuesday reminded me of AM and Sam, although in different ways. I remembered how other teens often followed AM home from school. . .and then wanted to stay. And I remembered how animals followed Sam home. . .and then wanted to stay.
Well Butch and I ran down Sunset, as we always do now that's school's in session and the schools' tracks are unavailable. Somewhere along the way, a dog came out and ran with Butch a while. Since I was ahead of Butch at that point, I didn't see his new friend. Butch hollered though, and I looked back and there they were -- trotting along side by side -- Butch and this yellow lab.
Well the dog was enjoying his freedom, got tired of Butch, caught up to me and ran alongside me -- except when he was trail marking and then playing catch-up. A couple times I saw oncoming cars and I hollered, and pointed, and waved my arms to warn them as this dog was just wandering and meandering wherever. Once I thought he was going to get hit, and the oncoming female driver smiled and nodded and mouthed a thanks.
Finally I lost the lab. I thought that maybe he had gone home. I passed a lady getting out of her SUV, and, just in case the lab was still wandering mindlessly, I asked if she'd call someone -- told her I was worried about this yellow lab with no collar wandering down the run unmindful of traffic and all. She said she'd have her gramma call, and I ran on home.
Just a few minutes later, here comes Butch -- with the dog beside him! I called the dog, "Here, Boy! Come here." And I opened the door into my apartment. He seemed most glad to visit and explore a new place. But Butch protested. "He's too big! He's been marking his trail; he'll mess up your apartment."
I agreed with him, but couldn't let the dog just wander off again.
"What else can I do? I'll just keep him till I call the dog officer. I can't let him get hit. I could never live with myself."
"Will he fit in your car?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well then why don't we just take him home?"
"You know where he lives?"
"Well, yeah. . .I saw him come from a house anyway. . .must be his house."
So we put this now slobbering hunk of yellow fur in the back seat of the car that Butch had just thoroughly cleaned for me a couple days ago, and headed down the road. When we got to the house, I said, "You stay with the dog and I'll go see if someone's home."
This dear sweet older lady came out of the house, a house with a tennis court (no kidding!) and all kinds of farm machinery. She looked a bit apprehensive when she came to the door -- me all sweaty and stinky in my running clothes, and still breathing hard.
"This dog followed me home when I was running today. . .all the way to Turner Avenue. I wonder if he might be yours. He's in the car. . ."
She followed me to the car, opened the back door to a now smiling (well that MIGHT be an exageration) dog.
"Oh, Toby," she cooed. "You will have to stay in your pen all afternoon now." And then the lady looked at my car. "Oh dear. He's made a mess of your car," she said.
"Don't worry about it; I'm used to it. The grandchildren make a mess of it, too." And then I asked if she'd call dog control and let them know that the dog on Sunset had found his home, and she said she would. She was so grateful.
Once home, I collected carpet cleaner, rags and water and scrubbed the hair and dog smell out of my car. Ooohhh....the goobers he left on the headrest! Ick! But I know that Toby made it home safe. I smiled to myself as I realized that I had indeed learned a few lessons from my children.

Lost at Lost River

Well, we weren't really "lost" exactly; we WERE on a road going somewhere. And as soon as I saw the sign "leaving Lost River", I knew what we'd done wrong. But had we not gone the wrong way about a mile earlier, we would have missed the horses out on a run and the covered wagon.

You can't tell it from the photo, but these guys, for a spell, were coming at us full gallop and they have no rider! A horse and rider at the front and another at the end of the line made sure they galloped down the road, crossed safely and then tore down one of the nearby trails.

Ryan

Ryan took his first steps last weekend (10/11), but outside on the uneven ground he preferred walking while holding hands.
Ryan studies a leaf. . .and a laugh with his mom.

Ryan's fine motor skills are pretty good for someone just over a year old. . .he could pick up one blade of grass at a time using pointing finger and thumb, and he liked sharing each one he picked.

Lost River Pathfinding

Katy has been attending college near D.C., training to be a nurse. And one or two weekends during the month she has Reserve duty. So she hasn't been attending SVTC runs on Tuesdays, and we haven't seen her for a long time. Photo: Katy with her son, Ryan, on her back and Butch study the map and decide which way, and how far, to go.