Running Commentary

That's what we'll be doing, come Sunday. Maybe giving me plantar faciitis was God's way of telling me to rest before the race. I haven't run since Sunday and my feet feel a bit better. The good part is that I haven't been getting up at 4:30 a.m., and so feel really rested. My legs don't ache every time I stand up! So of course, I'm planning on running tomorrow morning. Hey, there's resting and then there's sloth. I've been stretching my achilles and also icing and massaging the bottoms of my feet. Sad to say they really are still pretty sore. But the Avenue of the Giants course is mostly dirt, which will help immensely. This foot thing is nothing new to me, which is why I just keep on going when it gets worse. I recall that last year at this race my feet were the most uncomfortable part of my body during the latter half of the run. My left hip also ached; it's another little chronic nagger. Not sure I've ever mentioned it here, but I have...

Well, looks like I beat mine too much. Left heel, which has been aching dully, is suddenly quite painful. I went for a short one this morning (3.5 mi.), and it hurt more than usual, at least for the first mile. When I got home it was fine, but after I showered it started in barking again. Advil and ice calmed it down, but now, at 2 p.m., it hurts like heck. More ice, more Advil. This may be the running gods' way of telling me to taper before the half marathon. As in, lay off for a week (yeah, right). Going to go out in a little bit and look at new shoes. My work shoes, which I wear every day, started out cushy but over the course of six months have sunk to the comfort level of a couple of planks. While I'm in a shoe frame of mind, I think I'll go to my local running store over the weekend and lay out a small fortune for a new pair of Sauconys. The supposed life of a pair of running shoes is 300 to 500 miles, but I find after about 250 I start to hear that slap-slap that si...

I'm not that blue, but loved this song title when I found it at this great site about weird song titles on the Internet ( http://www.ohek.co.uk/funnies/fun-titles.htm ). My intention was to whine about how quickly time goes by--but I decided why bother. Every time I do, nothing changes, if you can imagine that. Don't know why not. Between running and working my day job and my freelance job, blogging has slipped on my priorities list. But I've been running a lot, and except for a nagging sore left heel, it's been going well. Z and I are set to run the Ave. of the Giants half marathon on May 7, so we're both tapering a bit this week. ("Tapering": the practice of resting tired legs for a week or two before a big race; the process of tapering off from the usual habit of running like a crazed gerbil for hours at a time.) I've decided it's unrealistic for me to plan on running the SF Marathon at the end of July, so I'll probably do the half and then...

Well, a bike named Blu. Trying to upload an image in a hurry, and having no luck. So I'll just go ahead and paste in the latest adventures of our friend Geores as described by the man himself. His van is named Liah, and his bike is named Blu. Here's what he's been up to: 04/12, the last day of month one, 1:30PM; sitting in front of the closed, Kiowa, library, even though the sign reads "OPEN 9AM to 5PM." But that's kind of what the morning's been like. Awake at 3:45 in a clearing off of 69 that was parked in after dark. Started runner's oatmeal and coffee at 4AM. Ate the oatmeal then took a nap afterward with coffee on low to slowly perk. woke up in morning light and discovered the driveway that Liah was parked in. In the ensuing rush to get things in order for travel, the hot, yes HOT, coffee came down in a shockingly painful gush on the bare right foot, scalding it red, and changing the color of a goodly portion of Liah's green carpet to brown. A...

Here's Geores, one of our buddies from our running club. You can get the full story by Googling "Clevenger 69." Geores is a wild man, in the way all runners secretly hope they are. His wife is one of the finest people you could ever know, too. I felt a bit wild myself this morning, with joy, that is, when I awoke and for the first time in 40 days and 40 nights it wasn't raining. Yes, I am serving whine with my jeez. Anyway, out I went. Did 6 before breakfast. I've recently been heading for the north-south streets that offer some hills--figure it's better for me than sticking to the flats. Today I rolled up and down Peralta. Z and I are getting in decent shape for our upcoming half marathon, which is on May 7. He is looking great because not only is he running well, he's spending more time at the gym. Me? I get there once a week and grouse the whole time I'm there. Can't say it's buffed me up much, but I do feel a bit more stable through the mid...

It has to stop raining before I run out of rain-related song titles. So much water, so little time. I've managed to keep my running going despite never-ending rain. I don't want it to sound as if I'm whining—I probably mind the rain less than many people. If I can get under way before a sprinkle becomes a deluge, I'm actually fine with a little precipitation. Ran 5 miles this morning around 4:30. Since daylight saving started up, it's dark again in the early morning, very dark, but the street lights illuminate my solitary running stage. I had a good week last week. Did a total of 20 miles, plus managed a gym workout and a 30-minute swim. Z and I are looking toward Avenue of the Giants, the half marathon, on May 7. I feel I'll be in much better shape for it than I was last year, and the pain was bearable even then. I know, pain being bearable seems an odd criterion for a successful activity. No one said runners weren't weird.

That was the question posed my first run in Phoenix, on March 24. It was already warm at 6:40 a.m. when I headed out from the Super 8 Motel on East Van Buren Street in the direction of the canal and its long, sandy path. But it was a weekday, and traffic was fierce, so I decided to cut north on 37th street to the canal. By about the second block into the shortcut I started hearing barking. I realized the street was lined on both sides with fenced-in, snarling dogs, all of whom seemed to think I looked a lot like breakfast. These weren’t your family puppy dogs -- these were guard dogs, long of fang and glittery of eye. I averted my face as much as I could (aren’t you supposed to do that?) and jogged on, confident that I’d be at my destination soon. As I approached the end of the street, first I saw a dog that was unfenced and off-leash, and then I saw a high, chain-link fence with a padlocked gate in it that was the only possible exit from the street onto the canal path. I contemplated ...

Quick thought this morning. I want to share a weight-loss tip that has worked for me in the past when I've taken the trouble to follow it. You know those handy bags of pre-washed salad you can get at the grocery store? Well, here's the tip. When you do your weekend shopping, find some on sale. If you're shopping for five days ahead, buy one bag per day per person who wants to try the gimmick. Then go to the salad dressing aisle and buy some fat-free rasberry vinaigrette or some other pretty flavorful fat-free dressing (there are many good ones available). Then, for the next five days, eat whatever you'd normally eat for lunch or dinner, except only about half the amount you would usually have. Also dump half a bag of salad (Mixed greens? Romaine? Spinach? Your choice--) in a big bowl, toss with two tablespoons dressing, and eat it with your meal. One caveat: if your bag of salad comes with nuts, raisins, or its own fatty dressing, use your discretion. A few nuts are OK,...

Light by the time I finshed my run this morning. At 6 a.m.! I've taken a freelance copyediting job, on top of my day job, so my time lately has been at a premium. But my running continues, albeit a bit creakily. Saturday I did 6 along the BART path, then Sunday 5 more with my sometimes-running partner, John, along the Bay Trail heading toward Emeryville. This morning I was out the door at 4:40 and in the middle of the road before I realized—hey, it's raining! Showing my usual wisdom and discretion in matters weatherly, I headed out and ran 5.5. As usual, I felt great by the time I hit mile 3, and finished feeling pleased with the world. Since my recovery from my fall I find myself plagued with various small pains, the causes of which aren't easily apparent. My left heel hurt all last week, throbbing as I ran until the endorphins kicked in. Aggressive icing and steady ibuprofen seem to have alleviated the intensity of that pain, at least for now. Also, my left hip has been ...

Can't believe a week has gone by since I posted here. Too much work. Luckily I'm hatching a plot to get shed my office-mole identity. Missed my run Tuesday because of rain. Oh, misery. But this morning I went, and it was lovely. Also, last Saturday Z and I ran the running club's fun run, which went out the Bay Trail to the Richmond harbor and back. Felt good, felt strong, oh yay. I haven't felt like going to the gym lately, which is a bit of a worry, but as long as I'm running I don't beat myself up too much.

Got in my 5 miles this morning in the cold and blustery dark. Can't fathom where my 4:30 a.m. energy comes from, but rather than question too hard I just give thanks that I have it. I took a new route today. Ran straight up Allston Way to Oxford--a gentle but unbroken climb. Then I headed north, eventually ending up running down Hopkins to Gilman and back via my old friend the Ohlone Greenway path and then stopping briefly in Dark Park (my name for it) to do some crunches and push-ups. I can now do 10 of the latter if I push up from a bench that is about 2 feet from the ground. That's progress from a couple of months ago, but it's rather glacial progress. I've about decided to skip my gym workout tomorrow afternoon. Last week being at the gym was a gruesome experience--I was one crankypants dudette. I have free weights and ankle weights at home, and hereby pledge to do a home workout to combat "torpor and sloth" (a Buddhist phrase). If I ride my bike beforehan...

That was me yesterday morning. Got all of three minutes into my run before the skies opened up. I ducked under a sturdy tree for a few moments, but upon realizing it was either get real wet or bag the whole thing, I got sensible and headed north into the storm. I got in my five miles, and actually felt kind of refreshed by it all. Reminds me of a VERY old Doonesbury cartoon in which Mark Slackmeyer is interviewing a pain specialist. "And when did you really get into pain?" he asks his subject. "I think it was right around the time I started jogging," comes the reply. I'm happy my energy is back, even if pain is its companion. Last night I rode my bike up the hill to my Tuesday night meeting--the sky was bright with stars and the air was--like gin? Like crystals? Dunno, but it was mighty nice. Today I'm in my office at work. As my dad used to say about our family bathroom after three girls finished their ablutions, it looks like it's been shot at and hit....

Written 3/04/06 I hope my timing luck didn’t run out on me today. Out riding my bike on a leisurely 10-mile jaunt out to the end of the BART path, and noting that many runners were taking advantage of the dry interval to get in their miles. My plan is to go tomorrow morning, but the forecast gives a 50 percent chance of rain at 6 a.m. I just didn’t have it in me to go today, however. Z and I went to the gym last night and I whined and groused my way through about 25 minutes of lifting some sissy weights before I cried uncle. The bike ride today was a pleasure. It was the first time I’d been to the end of the path in a couple of months, and I was thrilled to find the Baxter Creek restoration area is open. By the time the path gets out three or four miles north of Berkeley it has made its way into a pretty hard-scrabble neighborhood in Richmond, so what a treat it was today to see a smooth ribbon of new macadam winding its way along next to the recently uncovered and restored creek. I sa...

I was working in the lab early one morning. . . I've run twice since I did the Couples Relay 5-K last Sunday, so I guess I can call myself officially recovered. I did the 5-K in 32:27:79—not exactly a blistering pace. But I felt elated to run, and delighted to feel myself put the hammer down a little bit at the end. I've decided to go for the half marathon rather than the full on March 7, but am now looking at the San Francisco full, which falls on July 30 this year. It was the first I ever did, and that was 10 years ago. I feel as if doing it right before I turn 60 would feel like the closing of a circle. Tuesday morning I did 5, and again this morning. Today I started in the mist but ended in the pouring rain. It didn't start until about mile 4, when I was thoroughly warmed up, so it didn't even bother me. It felt wonderful, if you must make me confess the extent of my insanity. I thought of all the sweat running off my body and down through the storm drains of Berkel...

Thinking about my cranky comment that my blog is trivial, and, by extension, that individual stories are trivial. Not true, of course. For how do we learn to grasp the abstract unless we brush up against the real? People who run might find something of interest in my ups and downs. People who struggle to find a balance between staying fit and living a comfortable life might find something of interest. I can only hope so, as I continue to share how things are for me. As George Sheehan said, we are all an experiment of one, our own non-replicable lab. If you're not familiar with Dr. Sheehan, prepare yourself for a treat: http://www.georgesheehan.com/welcome/ The Couples Relay went well. More details at a later date.

Into work on a Saturday. Sitting here contmplating my recent up-down saga and feeling that, while it was a drama for me, in the larger light of what is important it was rather banal. This conclusion came to me when I was watching Olympic figure skating on TV the other night and following, in a most desultory way, the convoluted personal stories of the athletes. I became overwhelmed by melodrama somewhere along the way, and I stopped wanting to know even one more detail. Well, if these gripping tales ring somehow trivial to me, then what do I hold important? What would be a meaningful enough story to stir me as profound? The answer can't be conjured, no doubt, in a facile blog entry such as this. But the question has got my attention. The answer might have something to do with the picture at the top of the page--think about that. Don't get your hopes up--I'm nowhere near ready to abandon my blog. It is challenging to keep. I like that it forces me to write. But I'm not s...

Feeling a bit stiff and so happy about the pain--it's that post-run feeling. This morning about 4:30 I went out for 3 miles. At mile 1 I felt a little ache in my quad; at mile 2 my hip growled a little but didn't bark. At mile 3 I was smiling. Actually, this was my second run--went out Wednesday after work for a few laps on the soft dirt track at King school. That was a sissy run--today's was much closer to the real thing. So I feel I am officially back. The unknown is how far I am capable of going after a 2 1/2-week layoff. For today, I'm filled with the joy of being alive.

...yes indeed, and I'm talkin' about my shoes and me, and I'm hopin' that it'll all come back to me... Walked from the Transbay Terminal down to the Embarcadero and along the waterfront this morning, the first extended stroll I've taken since my attempt to burrow into the earth with my right hip. It was a glorious morning--runners streaking by, seagulls screaming overhead, commuters carrying paper coffee cups and talking on cell phones--and I felt truly blessed. I still feel a little weakness in my hip and my quad, but am very close to healed. I swam after work yesterday and was pleased to realize that since all I could do was the crawl (no breastroke--too hard on the hips), I had to do the crawl the whole time. And I could do it! Evidently my endurance capacity has stayed reasonably high during this down time. Not long ago I couldn't do the crawl for very long without alternating some other, easier stroke because I just got too worn out. But not last night....

I forgot that the first words of this song are, “Slow down, you move too fast.” Huh. Not likely. Anyway, I’m not feeling like Deena Kastor yet, but am feeling worlds better. It is inexplicable to me that for the first week after my fall I experienced no improvement—even felt worse as the days went by. And the second week didn’t get much better until Friday, when I awoke in the morning and said to myself, hey, I’m gonna live. The nurse practitioner I saw at Dr. F’s office Wednesday told me she didn’t think I needed to give up on the idea of the marathon, but then, she is young and is a distance runner. I doubt a fall like I took would keep her down as long as it is threatening to keep me down. But I loved her for saying it and for not saying, “Oh you must stop running for two months.” My son the doctor told me I could probably pursue what’s known as “active rest.” I love a good oxymoron, so after about five days during which all I did was walk from the bus terminal to work and back (fou...

And even they don't survive forever. Awoke with a head filled with black thoughts. Unable to understand why this injury, which is certainly non-fatal and is even in the long run non-disabling, has me so whipped. I think the answer can be found in the primal instinct to live and thrive—an instinct that I should rejoice in. I can't speak for the rest of the human race, but I know I have a horrendous fear of what my old friend DN used to call "the big D." (He was a huge fan of "the big L," but that's another blog post altogether.) I keep having flashbacks to different incidents during the last four years of my mother's life. She went from being an ambulatory and sentient senior citizen to being a wheelchair-bound little old lady lost in her own diminishing world of patchy memory and various degrees of pain. Before she died last July I don't think I really believed in death as anything other than what happened to some other people. I didn't hold ...