Running Commentary

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