Adorable
I was riding my bike on the trail near the BART station last week and I passed a 40-ish-looking couple walking in the other direction. As I went by them the woman stopped, focussed on me, and said to her companion, "Isn't she adorable!"
One of the few (very few) perks of aging is that a certain segment of the population loves little old ladies. The burly construction guys have stopped whistling, the 30-somethings on the bus don't look up from their devices, but who needs them? Not adorable me.
I did a reallllllllly long run/walk this morning. Every time I felt like quitting, I sez to myself, "It's so adorable when old people run. I am so danged adorable." It seemed to help!
I went into this run with a lot of trepidation. My right hamstring and my left quad believe in equal-opportunity injuries, with no preference being shown to one leg over the other, so I was nervous they'd both start complaining before I even made it from my door to the end of the block.
Mile one, then, was about pain. I could feel it not only in both legs but in my glutes and my back and, and -- oh, I didn't know if I could even keep going. My face? Think The Scream.
Then came mile two. Serendipitously, it was about turkeys. A whole flock of them on the Ohlone Greenway. The Scream face turned into a Bozo the Clown face. I smiled; I laughed out loud. They are such unlikely birds! Somehow my pain started to abate.
At mile three, I was trying to get back to my pity party but couldn't succeed because of all the happy runners going by me in the other direction. There is an open run every week that starts in Albany, and if my timing is right I pass them on the path. Generally they're emphatically non-elite, but they always seem happy. Most of them, and there are usually 20 or more, aren't fast, but aren't abysmally slow, either. And they always wave and smile at me (because I'm adorable, probably). So how could I stay sad?
During mile four, my attitude stayed positive. I think the endorphins were starting to trickle into my recalcitrant brain. Plus, it was fuel time, which meant I could have a Mocha Clif Shot, a wonderful caffeinated gel. I've been caffeine free for more than a month now, so when I ingest even 50 puny milligrams of the stuff, it affects me the way espresso used to, which is not a bad thing.
I wish I could continue with this mile-by-mile description, but after four miles my ability to remember mile-specific happenings deserted me. But that wasn't the only thing that deserted me this morning. Before I left the house, my new Garmin Forerunner 210 revealed itself to be battery challenged. As in dead. (Does anyone else think the tippy four-pronged charger it uses is the lamest thing ever invented?) So I strapped on my old Forerunner 205 and headed out. Luckily, I also started my Timex chronograph, because Ms. 205 went dead exactly at mile 2. Does it make me a bad person that I ripped it off my wrist and dropped it in the trash? It made a satisfying clunk. And I believe that Berkeley sorts its waste stream, so someone will retrieve Ms. G. and send her to electronics heaven.
In a way I think this dual technology failure saved my run--without being able to check my pace and my time every 30 seconds, I was forced to just run. I'm not even sure how far I went, but I was in motion for five hours. My guess is that I covered about 22 miles. It was a five-city run: Berkeley, Albany, El Cerrito, Richmond--and then back via the Bay Trail before heading into Emeryville to complete my trifecta-plus-two (unfortunately, if there's a similar word to trifecta only for five entities I don't know it--quadfecta?).
The LA Marathon is two weeks from today, so from now until then, for me it's taper city. I am incredibly grateful that today went well. I may wake up tomorrow to find that I've re-activated every injury I've ever suffered over the last 35 years, but for now I feel okay. I was tapped out by the end of this outing, so I hope when M-day rolls around I'll have it in me to grind out those final 4 miles. And if I end up feeling like the walking dead for those miles, at least I'll know that I'm looking adorable!
Ps. Hey shoes, thanks for the ride.
I did a reallllllllly long run/walk this morning. Every time I felt like quitting, I sez to myself, "It's so adorable when old people run. I am so danged adorable." It seemed to help!
I went into this run with a lot of trepidation. My right hamstring and my left quad believe in equal-opportunity injuries, with no preference being shown to one leg over the other, so I was nervous they'd both start complaining before I even made it from my door to the end of the block.
Mile one, then, was about pain. I could feel it not only in both legs but in my glutes and my back and, and -- oh, I didn't know if I could even keep going. My face? Think The Scream.
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At mile three, I was trying to get back to my pity party but couldn't succeed because of all the happy runners going by me in the other direction. There is an open run every week that starts in Albany, and if my timing is right I pass them on the path. Generally they're emphatically non-elite, but they always seem happy. Most of them, and there are usually 20 or more, aren't fast, but aren't abysmally slow, either. And they always wave and smile at me (because I'm adorable, probably). So how could I stay sad?
During mile four, my attitude stayed positive. I think the endorphins were starting to trickle into my recalcitrant brain. Plus, it was fuel time, which meant I could have a Mocha Clif Shot, a wonderful caffeinated gel. I've been caffeine free for more than a month now, so when I ingest even 50 puny milligrams of the stuff, it affects me the way espresso used to, which is not a bad thing.
I wish I could continue with this mile-by-mile description, but after four miles my ability to remember mile-specific happenings deserted me. But that wasn't the only thing that deserted me this morning. Before I left the house, my new Garmin Forerunner 210 revealed itself to be battery challenged. As in dead. (Does anyone else think the tippy four-pronged charger it uses is the lamest thing ever invented?) So I strapped on my old Forerunner 205 and headed out. Luckily, I also started my Timex chronograph, because Ms. 205 went dead exactly at mile 2. Does it make me a bad person that I ripped it off my wrist and dropped it in the trash? It made a satisfying clunk. And I believe that Berkeley sorts its waste stream, so someone will retrieve Ms. G. and send her to electronics heaven.
In a way I think this dual technology failure saved my run--without being able to check my pace and my time every 30 seconds, I was forced to just run. I'm not even sure how far I went, but I was in motion for five hours. My guess is that I covered about 22 miles. It was a five-city run: Berkeley, Albany, El Cerrito, Richmond--and then back via the Bay Trail before heading into Emeryville to complete my trifecta-plus-two (unfortunately, if there's a similar word to trifecta only for five entities I don't know it--quadfecta?).
The LA Marathon is two weeks from today, so from now until then, for me it's taper city. I am incredibly grateful that today went well. I may wake up tomorrow to find that I've re-activated every injury I've ever suffered over the last 35 years, but for now I feel okay. I was tapped out by the end of this outing, so I hope when M-day rolls around I'll have it in me to grind out those final 4 miles. And if I end up feeling like the walking dead for those miles, at least I'll know that I'm looking adorable!Ps. Hey shoes, thanks for the ride.
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