Running Commentary

What a slippery slope this self-revelation may get to be! Department of TMI: Whenever I can I hose my feet and legs off after a run. I credit the cold water treatment with keeping my plantar faciitis at bay and my cranky left knee still supporting me. Those are my friends (my feet) to your right there captured on film -- on digits? -- yesterday morning after a dreamy dawn run under the blossoms. Yep, my nether digits as depicted digitally. This post is set in green type (green digits?) in honor of the start of Spring Training. The A's show signs this year of changing from the really bad team of well-known players they were last year to a really bad team of no-names this year (although they did win today, powered by one of the few current Athletics to be mentioned in the Mitchell Report ). I've had people ask, if the A's are always breaking your heart, why don't you pick a different team to follow? That's like saying, if your children drive you so crazy, why don

If you've followed this blog at all, you may have noticed that it's never included a photo of me. Well, in the name of my new fresh-air resolution, my policy has changed. I have to admit that I've secretly cherished an image of the running me as looking remarkably similar to Paula Radcliffe . Posting a photo of myself reveals that I am possessed of an incredibly fertile imagination. Sigh. Anyway, that's me above--the (not quite) full monte. I was standing by the finish line after running a 31:30 5K for my leg of my running club's annual Couples Relay. My partner ran his leg a little more than six minutes faster than I did, but he was gracious about my turtleness. And it wasn't too turtley for me; I beat my last year's time by about 20 seconds, making this my best 5K time in at least three years. Since I, like many (most?) older runners, really see myself as my main competition, I was happy. See photo for the grin. If I look wet, btw, it's because the r

Of course, because the theme of this post is water, mainly rain, the sun is now shining through my window. I've heard that "I'm never going to stop the rain by complaining," but it feels like I did just that. The photo above wasn't taken today, but yesterday, as I walked to work along the Embarcadero. It was raining, and the Vaillancourt Fountain looked like a grotesque and unstable craft sinking into the sea. I love that ugly piece of outdoor architecture. One disgruntled critic described it as something left in the plaza by a stray dog with square intestines (I also love that metaphor). And today--ah, yes, today. I forced myself out the door at 6:15 am. I've been beat for a couple of days, both from my long run last weekend and from working late Tuesday night (till 1 am -- ah, the ad business). It was a dark and stormy night. No, not really, but I love writing that. Actually it was a cloudy, misty morning. There wasn't much wind, the air was mild, and t

The Truth: I have been feeling anxious and blue for the last week. I have not been upbeat. My happy face is upside-down. There. Part of my commitment to keeping this blog ventilated with fresh air is an intention to let it reflect how things are with me, not how I wish they were. Not to say I'm going to go all blubbering on you (I am, after all, an adult of sorts), but at the same time I'm not going to try to tell you running always makes life rosy. Sometimes life just isn't rosy. It's felt rather gray and sad since I heard about Wanda's death, actually. Now that I've pulled aside the happy curtain, let me tell you that I did run 16 miles Saturday. And it went well. The above is, what else, the Berkeley Pier, where I did an out-and-back about midway through the run. I've thought of doing a mile-by-mile list for you, describing 16 highlights, but I don't trust your patience to read to the end of such a list. I don't trust my patience to write it, eith

I guess the point would be to make as many bad puns in the title of these posts as possible. I'm checking in now because in about an hour I'm off for a 16-mile run. Who knows after that when I'll ever feel like writing again. I plan a tour of the Berkeley waterfront--Aquatic Park, the I-80 section of the Bay Trail to Gilman and back, a tour of the marina and the pier, a jaunt out to the Emeryville marina, and then a limp on home. The above photo was taken with the camera phone yesterday. I was standing on the footbridge over Clay St., just north of Embarcadero One, looking west. A little-mentioned fact about my city-based job is that it forces me to walk almost two miles every weekday, that is, between BART and my office. If I take the bus home the distance is extended by about a quarter mile as I cross Market going south and head for the Transbay Terminal. I credit the daily walking with keeping me strong for running (also, most days in the morning I walk from home to the

Here's the bench in the park. I usually lie down for crunches / bicycle kicks on the one farthest from the foreground, but in my wild and crazy moments have been known to lie on one other than that. And people think I don't have a life. I not only have a life, for a couple of days I've had a sore toe. Toe joint, that is. My office mate at work has a stress fracture in her knee (from running! argh!), so of course my thoughts are headed that way for my injury, too. I must remain calm (sound of shallow breathing here). The toe has actually felt better today since I took Z's advice and tried wearing a pair of non-running shoes. I want to take it easy, to stay off it, but don't think I'm capable of it. I'm going to skip my SF run tomorrow--will run on the usual dirt path instead. The weather here changed from winter to spring virtually overnight, it seems. Pitchers and catchers are warming up in Arizona, and all the little brown birds around our feeder are raisin

You can be me, just for a moment. Look up at the tree. You are lying on your back on a bench in a park at 7 a.m. on a Sunday, about to do your required 20 crunches and 41 bicycle kicks (for a total of 61: one for each year). You see the dawn light breaking through the branches. You see--leaves! It is February, but the sap already knows to rise. Thanks--you can go back to being you now. Have a mighty fine day. Before you go maybe you'd like to see a waterfall. Z and I joined the Berkeley Path Wanderers for a hike into the hills yesterday. It gave me an inkling of what it could be like to be retired, free to go on little excursions, free to explore our city and any other cities that took our fancy. I get a frisson of pleasure just thinking about it. (In my journalism days I worked with a woman whose happiest career moment came when she was able to work that word into a story.) Before the retirement comes the work, so I'm off to do more of it. I am proofreading a book that include

First, above is another camera phone photo taken Sunday from the turnaround point of my long run. the view is from north of Richmond Harbor, looking south. Second, about the magic time. That would be this morning, 6:15. Dark in Berkeley, with fog hugging the ground and shrouding the world in a gentle cloud. Magic! My run was the usual, down the Ohlone Greenway to Solano Ave. and back. I ran hard yesterday, and felt a little tug on my right achilles as I started off today, so I kept things easy and short. Yesterday the course was north along the Embarcadero (starting at Green St.), past Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf. Then out the muni pier and back, then north up the beeg hill to the statue of what looks like a nun (must stop sometime and see what it really is). I stretched out on top of a wall, contemplated a nap, did 61 crunches (one for every year), got up, and jogged on back to the office. That's it for now. Lots of work to do, a fresh day to do it in and to enjoy. One not

Wow. I got here. Only a few false starts. Hmmm. Running. I did a fairly speedy 5.25 yesterday morning and didn't seem to feel any ill effects from my long run Sunday. Yesterday was Super Tuesday, the day of many primaries across our great land. My dilemma here is whether to come clean about who is the candidate I sent some good wishes toward as I did my left-right along the Greenway (see, running related). For now I'll just tell you this: I am a 61-year-old woman. One of the candidates was, well, a 61-year-old woman. I've been crazy with work, and am using that as an excuse to let slide some activities that it would benefit me to perform. Funny, I don't have time for them, but the work isn't getting done at some faster-than-light pace. Today I'm working on a book about the various ailments and accidents that the gubment decrees will qualify a person to receive disability. (Don't want to think about that while I'm running). One thing that strikes me is th

... are still with us. After hours, no, days, no--years? -- I have successfully accessed my blog. None of what I've been through to get here makes any sense to me. I've been directed through about 500 screens from Yahoo and Google and have received about 700 emails to various accounts (even went through setting up a new account), all of which somehow got me here. I don't consider myself a technical Neanderthal, not at all. Yet I've been stumped, have been awed by the degree of obfuscation I've encountered in my quest to perform a simple function, i.e., access the blog that I created and that I theoretically control. It's been an exercise in humility, I tell ya. And thanks, nephew , for your help. Anyway, what follows is a post I put together during the time I was waiting to be admitted to my own bailiwick. Part 2 was written Jan. 21, Part 1 a couple of weeks before that date. * * * * * Part 1: The time has come either to let some fresh air into this blog or to