Running Commentary

This photo represents the cipher of the day--it means "a short out-and-back run in the dead dark of the dawn." I'm trying to get in as much mileage as possible before Christmas ever for beautiful Burbank. Z and I are going to visit the kids--the 2008 version of over the river and through the woods. He's driving; I'm going into work for a while and then flying later. I'll miss my computer. I realize that in this blog I'd like to take some time to look back and then look ahead, but also know that time for doing that may be limited in the remaining eight days of 2008. Looking back and looking ahead may be rather like an out-and-back run: I can do it, but in the end I can only find real meaning by taking step after individual step. Below, Bay Area signifiers that it's mid-winter! One interesting phenomenon I've observed over the course of my 2008 runs is that I'm manifestly back in touch with my photographic self. This has come about in such a ge

The buildings looked lit from within but the illumination was actually the mirrored sunrise. It did rain later in the day, so the old sailor's saw held true. This photo was taken yesterday morning as I ran out the Bay Trail to Emeryville. I logged about 7.5 miles in the fresh and breezy dawn. The time stamp on this photo says 7:15 am--when I took it I was a little less than halfway to the turnaround point. I ran four times this past week--am ramping it up a bit because I realize if I do I can break 900 miles for the year. If I can go over 900.25 miles, 2008 will be the third-highest-mileage year of my long and mystifying running career (mystifying to me, that is--why do I do this!). Here are some sample mileages from my records (which, I estimate, have a margin of error of plus or minus 10%): 1978 = 145 mi. (I was living in Key West. This was my first year; my first run took place March 22 and it lasted about 8 minutes. The distance was likely a half-mile.) 1983 = 823.25 mi. (I ha

Elizabeth will be back someday, perhaps as the author of a best-selling novel. As part of a New Year's campaign to be more accountable, I've decided to abandon my nom de guerre for the purposes of this blog. Yep, Elaine is me--now you have the Full Monty . To borrow from Stephen Colbert , may this be the beginning of many posts of truthiness. As your reward for reading this post, here is the special gift of an image I captured today from one of my favorite webcams . Note that in the image the time is 9:13 am. I believe I've posted a Chita image previously (maybe a couple of years ago?) but I wanted to do it again. Chita is in Siberia. Chita is always cold and usually dark. Its citizens, who carry on their daily lives as if they are living someplace reasonable, are for me the embodiment of courage, so I love watching them lurch around as the camera updates the scene every eight seconds. As you enjoy our current chilly weather, just realize that if a Chita native came here t

Wh at a change. From rainy Monday to crystal-clear Wednesday. Today I wore gloves on my morning run for the first (and probably last) time this winter. I did my hill run in hopes it would warm me, and it did. On my way back I got interested in chasing the moon. I may have done better than the cow I saw trying to jump over it! You judge whether I caught it or not.

BTW: It's not as wintry here as in some places around the country, but it's cold enough for me. The Bay Farm Ferry dock —at the start of my Saturday group-yet-solo run. To say that Saturday I ran with my running club is really to misspeak. I arrived at the designated meeting site three minutes late, and there were no runners to be seen. They had actually taken off on time—at 8:30 am. A couple of other latecomers, K and J, arrived shortly after I did, and the three of us started running together. They soon left me behind, at my urging. Even though I had told them to go ahead, I still experienced a few minutes of “oh-poor-old-and-slow me” time. It was cold (amazingly so for the Bay Area) and I was (sob) alone. Imagine my pleasure when I came to an intersection of the trail and a major road and found K and J standing there, waiting for me to catch up. “We didn’t want you to get lost,” they explained before they ran off ahead again. When I reached the end of the day’s 5.8 mile loo

So much for my promise to catch up. The days are short, my to-do list is long, and the rain is falling down.

Not the grocery store silly, the blog. I'm checking in but I have to do it so fast that I can't even use all the letters in the words. U C? Below is a picture relevant to nothing in particular. Look on it as a placeholder for when I get back to this blog with some actual information. I do have some, too, including the scoop on my happy participation yesterday in the long-awaited 10 K trail run. It exceeded my expectations on the fun-o-meter! I promise to check back later in the week with a report on that and other ped-powered experiences. For right now I'm processing the shock and subsequent relief I went through this past week when Z was suddenly ill but then recovered well. Let's just say I went through a perspective adjustment which has left me a bit dizzy. Some would say how could I get any more dizzy, but I'm staring at the air above their insolent heads, not deigning to hear them. Maybe the shock is the point of the red tree. It represents how my week has elec

For my report on my most recent run I have to give you a photo of the equipment since I didn’t take any pictures of the scenery. These are my new shoes, which look incredibly like my old shoes as well as like my three previous pairs. Runner’s rule: When you find a running shoe model that you like, keep buying it until the next version comes out. Stick with what works as long as you can. I fully expect this model, the Saucony Hurricane X, to go out of existence soon, now that I’m deeply attached to it. Here's my report on what went on this past week. Wednesday I did the previously mentioned five-miler. I ran hard (did 4 x 3 minutes of speed on the straightaway, plus sit-ups, push-ups, parallel-bar lurchy things). Thursday I had an hour on my hands in the morning and so went for a 9-mile bike ride out the Ohlone Greenway. I didn’t push especially hard, but kept the pace steady. By Wednesday night I was—to use the technical term—toast. I felt mentally and physically drained and whimpe

Here in Berkeley we like to chant slogans like the above. I took this photo this morning on the homeward leg of my out-and-back 5-miler. For me it illustrates what I’ve believed for years: People want to be outdoors. They want to move their bodies. So much that if their government agencies don’t supply them with developed areas to perform said movement, they’ll create the areas themselves. This is the northern end of the block between Francisco and Virginia streets and is part of the Santa Fe Right of Way . The city paved three blocks of the right of way and even installed lights (winter-morning runners are saying "yay!"), but hasn’t approved any further northward development. No matter—walkers, runners, and bikers daily perform their own development. In other news: I haven’t updated you lately on my attempts to run as close to 20 miles per week as possible. That’s because getting close to 20 miles has remained im possible for the most part lately. I have managed to keep the

Yesterday morning I managed two push-ups on this, the "baby bar" along my running route. It is the lowest of these, my three bars, and I'm the Goldilocks of the story. I've tried the papa bar and the momma bar, but this was the first time I dared attempt the baby. Can't tell yet whether it will be a good fit in the runs to come! Note how the one good rain we've had so far perked up the grass. The bar experience came near the end of a monster hill run I undertook in preparation for a trail run I'm scheduled to do Dec. 6 along with my friend from work, K. I have a feeling the course will make my monster run look more like a molehill run. No heroics this morning. Only did 4.5, and did it easy. Tried to take the time to notice how truly beautiful the landscape was--all parts of it, large and small. Have a good week, y'all.

If death makes you squeamish, please skip this post. Though you might at first think it’s not, the post is running related. It truly is, and I realize more and more that most everything in my life is running related. This fact was at the heart of my original impulse to start this blog. My sister died on October 24 at the age of 68 after a long and debilitating illness. Seventeen days later one of my closest childhood friends died, a woman ten days younger than I am whose life of late had brought her little joy. These people, the two Marys, were part of my life's landscape, faceted stones securely embedded in the mosaic of my upbringing. Suddenly, dizzyingly, they are gone. Wednesday evening I was alone in the house (Z was out of town and Daisy Mae the cat had hightailed it off into the night). I felt only heaviness at the mystery of human life—how evanescent it is, how it amounts to no more than a brief puff of wind. I went to bed with a ravaged heart. Thursday morning, 5:30 a.m. I

I just spent three-plus days in New England. On the first of those days, before rain and wind blew through, there was still some lovely fall color on display. The above trees grace Providence, RI, while the children below dance their perpetual ring-around-the-rosie at Eastern Connecticut State University, alma mater of Z's wonderful daughter. Below is one more snippet of color. There are many advantages to living in the upper part of the Left Coast, but showy fall foliage isn't one of them. I ran twice while I was back there. I used to have a great deal of trouble getting out the door when I traveled. I had it in my mind that I was jet-lagged, was fatigued, was weak and disoriented, and on and on and on. Then about five years ago I decided no, no. There was no real reason not to just get out of bed and go for a run, regardless of where I was or how tired I might have been. When I did run back in my delicate-flower-of-travel days, I usually made only 3 miles. But now I just take

Gold-colored text for a gray day. Went for a post-rain run this morning and it restored me somewhat. Yesterday it poured and I took the coward's way out and didn't run, despite desperately needing to do just that. I've been going through some rough times, emotionally, which are hard to talk about in a blog that I try to keep positive and upbeat. But reality will out, and the reality is that an unexpected death in the family has had me sad. I ended up with only two runs this past week, totaling a pitiful 12.25 miles. This following last week's similarly low total. Feh. Today is the day we "fall back" for the end of daylight saving time, so when I crept out into the dark it was officially only 5:20 am. The world was dark, clean, and silent! It was cool and lovely too. After my cranky body warmed up I felt good and flew right along on the now-lit Ohlone Greenway. (Yay for lights!) Here's what I saw: A toddler playground on the planet Mars. (Hey, I TOLD you I

I started this post day before yesterday--must get it done and out of the way! My idea was just to post all my recent photos and then see if I could think of anything to say regarding them. In pondering these photos, and by extension the meaning of running in my life, I find it relevant to note that a high percentage of my running is done at dawn. How I love the gift of a brand new day. Two weekends ago Z and I went down south to visit my sons. I've yet to find any good trails in the flats of Burbank, where we stay, but I do enjoy running there nevertheless. (The Chandler Bike Trail doesn't count for me because it's concrete--too hard for these old bones to run on for long.) The above photo of the lovely Burbank water treatment plant was taken from a freeway overpass; the one below was taken in anticipation of my post-run reward--a big breakfast at the Coral Cafe. Flowers. In our front yard. One time I heard "blue food" defined as something of a color "not fo

Taken on the Iron Horse Trail (see below). Not sure what it is, but I think it qualifies as "urban." I made it out three times this last week, and today (Sunday) have tried to spare my knee by taking a bike ride (look at me--cross-training, yet). This week, in honor of being in the middle of reading Coming to Our Senses , as I ran I tried to take in my surroundings with a nonjudgmental awareness. No saying "gee, that's pretty" or "yuck, look at that." In honor of my attempts at mindfulness, which were only partially successful, I have here a few images that show a real and ever-present side of urban running that's not usually apparent in the photos I take that are so dear to me of flowers, trees, and skies . This is a curb that runs along a parking lot I often run by. It's of interest not for its aesthetic qualities but for its status as my personal balance beam, which I've used over the months to the point that I can actually now run (not

Along the Lafayette-Moraga Trail I'm trying these to get the hang of making my posts more specific. As in, here's what I did, here's where I was, here's how I view what I did and where I was and, just maybe, here's why I view everything the way I do. Tuesday morning and Thursday mornings I was on my usual path, along the Ohlone Greenway and down through Albany under the BART tracks and to the El Cerrito border (Brighton Street) and then home again (see previous post). Yesterday morning I went to the other side of the hill , where I met with some fellow running club members for a run that started in Moraga. People ran various distances--I just went out for 40 minutes and then turned around and came back. Coming back took 42 minutes. Hey, it's uphill. The Lafayette-Moraga Trail passes by many backyards. The day was damp--there was rain before the run and rain after, but no rain on me (no flies, either). I figure I went about 7.25 miles. It was lovely to be on that

Two days, two runs, along virtually identical courses--the first run failing to dispel the mental miasma of predawn anxiety, the second feeling effortless and joyful-- a romp (did some skipping! ran backwards!). My experience, 30-plus years of it, has confirmed in me the belief that the nature of a run, like the nature of a baseball game, can never be predicted with any certainty. Yesterday, did about 5.25 miles under a rosy sky (see above). Threw in five intervals of speed along the way, just to see if I might outrun my blues. Nothing doing. Tried to see with what I think of as my photographer's eye, that is, an eye that finds details and if they seem interesting tries to capture them in a way that reveals why they are interesting. Not much doing there either, really--see below (that's a mark on the pavement to show painters where to place the symbol of a bicyclist). Today, did about 5.25 miles under a leaden sky. Rain on the way? Rumor has it so. No speed, just a bit of fris

This is not a running related picture, but I'm avoiding writing about running for the moment, so here it is. This is the kitty who has adopted us. We're trying not to continue in frozen mode, where we are right now--as in, is she really homeless? If so, has she been fixed? If not, is she expecting? And regardless of all these questions, should we take her in to the vet for a check-up sooner rather than later? (I think the answer on that last one is "yes.") She is very sweet, rather shy but no so much that she won't come in and snuggle down on the futon. Blah, blah, blah--and me a dog person! About the running. Yesterday I ran the LMJS 15K at Lake Merritt. It was hot and I did not do well (1:44:13--5 minutes slower than my 15K time a year ago). I'm surprised at how negatively that affects my peace of mind. I've always given lip service to running for the joy of it and not worrying about times. I've never been particularly fast, even in my younger day

The run and the post. Both miniature sized. After yesterday's 7-miler I went for only 4 this morning. Sometimes it strikes me that as a so-called running blogger I need to include a few more hard facts about my running experience. Well, here's one: For a long time (years) I have aspired to have 20 miles be my consistent average weekly mileage. Seventeen? Okay. Twenty-three? Okay. Eleven? Not so okay. Twenty-eight? Probably too many. So that's what I'm working on now--getting that weekly average close to 20. This morning I went back to my regular route, the Ohlone Greenway and environs, to increase my existing 17.5 to around 20. Did it! And along the way took this photo of the wonderful Ohlone memorial bench that sits by the path, across from the BART tracks. In my perambulations around the Bay Area I see isolated indications such as this that tell me how once this region was inhabited by many native peoples. Time is what time is, and what has been done to the natives h

This is just a quick check-in to affirm that I'm still alive and I'm still running. I had a lovely meeting with Chief Pocatello a couple of weeks ago when I spent a few days in the town named after him. I was visiting my sister and her family--a good time was had by all. I met the chief on one of my morning runs. I managed to run four times in five days. One thing I love about traveling is finding trails and tracks to support my habit. I also love seeing other runners, and during this trip I had a fine time spectating at the finish line of the Pocatello Marathon . It seems like a fine race. My fabulous niece and I talked about coming back to the chief's town next year and participating instead of just looking. Hmmm. Always good to have a running goal--maybe this will be it. Since I came back from the land of ID, I've kept busy working and running. I hadn't taken any more freelance jobs recently, as part of my attempt to find more "free" time in my life, b

...but I do know what I like. I like this bear! I did go on my 10-mile run yesterday. It's amazing how far 10 miles is when covered on city streets. I made it a three-track run: Berkeley High School, UC Berkeley, and King Middle School. The bear was at Cal, the bees at Berkeley High, and the snake at King. It was a run full of art! Don't know why they say something's the bee's knees. As is plainly evident, bees don't got no knees. Lipstick, yes. News flash--these aren't bees, they're yellowjackets. Therefore, no knees. This one I called the snake, but it's obviously a lot more critters than that. Also, truth be told, it wasn't within view from the track, but it was on the school property. And just for fun here's one more, taken on my 6-miler last Thursday. I'm not normally fond of larger-than-life representatons (think Avedon, whose work absolutely creeps me out), but I found this portrait quite compelling. And it's on display for anyone