Where I've Been

Running, that's where. Looking up into the deep springtime sky.

Saturday, April 5: Ran about 23 miles on the Contra Costa Ygnacio Canal Trail and the Contra Costa Canal Trail. The first part of my journey, a 7-plus-mile loop on the Ygnacio Canal trail, was lovely, featuring gentle hills and lush vegetation. The final 16 miles of the big run consisted of running north from Heather Farm Park to the end of the Canal Trail and then back. The scenery held my attention--parkland mixed with urban landscape--but I began to wilt before it was all over. By the end I didn't give a fig for the view.

It was hot, and water stops were hard to find. I made it out and back, but was toast by the end. That was my last really long run before the marathon, too, so I had hoped for better.

Tuesday, April 8, and Wednesday, April 9: Went north under the BART tracks for two days--uh--running. Headed out the door at around 6:15 am and just kept going until I reached Solano Ave., where I turned around and came home.

Tuesday felt better than Wednesday, but the two runs taken together (four miles each) restored somewhat my faith in my ability to persevere in the face of long-run hangover, a.k.a. bone-deep fatigue.

Saturday, April 12: Ran from the house before dawn, straight west until I came to the end of the Berkeley pier. Ran around a bit, cut through the so-called Eastbay State Park, which is a relatively new incarnation of the former Berkeley landfill, and headed home--about 6.5 miles in all. The air was mild, the sky cloudless. Lovely.

Sunday, April 13 (today!): Did an easy 5.5 miles on the greenway. Went out past Brighton St. by about a half-mile and then ran home. Another mild day.

On all these runs except the long one I stopped at some point along the way to do crunches and bicycle kicks and some form of push-ups (some higher, some lower). The push-ups, and indeed most things I describe in these posts, are all part of my war against time and gravity. For years I've made bad jokes in the hope that the opposite of gravity is levity. Don't know whether my theory has any merit, but I've cracked myself up along the way.

Speaking of bad jokes: The photo at the top of today's post, taken this morning as I lay on my back doing crunches in my attempt to commit athleticism, is in honor of my late dad, who loved to tell about the man who went up a pole and came down a rushin'. Say it out loud, y'all.

Have a great week. Long live spring!