Running Commentary

I’ve wanted to write about turning 65 but find my thoughts are too complicated to slap together. (Confession: I’m enough of a word person that I can usually “slap together” a more or less coherent blog entry in a pretty short time. I think in complete sentences, so all I usually have to do is write them down. Deathless it ain’t, but it gets the job done.) So here I was on Wilshire Boulevard at 6:20 am the day before my birthday. Will I know how to get to odd places like this when I can no longer make it out the door under my own steam? And here I was outside Veteran's Hospital, in Westwood. Thinking about how cool this little parcourse is, especially the all-weather elliptical machine. Wishing blessings on our vets and over-the-top success in their rehab. This is a running blog. So. On the day before my birthday I ran. On my birthday I ran. The day after my birthday I didn’t run and felt so depressed I kept looking in messy drawers to see if somehow I’d left a gun in one that I’

Last night after work I headed out for the longest run I’ve taken in a while. I headed north from the Battery Street adlandia office, along the Embarcadero, hopping from side to side as I bobbed and weaved through throngs of tourists and still maintained some of my forward motion. It went well; I didn’t trip, I didn’t wear out—just ran the scenic five miles out to Fort Point and then back. I’m in a happy period in which running feels relatively easy. And I’ve had plenty of running-related food for thought, which makes the miles go by faster. The food for my running mind is coming from two sources. First, the Pepper Street gang jumped the birthday gun and bought me a Kindle. The first book I downloaded was To the Edge, an autobiographical account by thirty-something New York Times reporter Kirk Johnson of his experience preparing for and then running Badwater, the 135-mile ultramarathon that takes place every July in one of the hottest places on earth. It’s a riveting tale of obsess

Yes, life goes on. For as long as I can remember, every day I've awoken and found that to be true. And every day is a possible running day--such a wonderful thing. And on it goes. Last weekend I was in Key West for the funeral of someone I used to be very close to. A sad, sad day. A day that was partially redeemed by being a running day--albeit a running morning with the temp already at 87 degrees. Picture it! Then yesterday I ran in Santa Rosa, in a cross-country race with team Ducks ( LMJS ). I have no photos. Do have a red bite mark on my ankle where a bee stung me as I flew down the hill toward the finish line. Well, it felt like flying to me. Such fun, notwithstanding the late Mr. Bee. Finally, this morning I did a 4-mile recovery run on my regular Ohlone Greenway route. I wore no Garmin gps, set no chronograph. Just diddled along, enjoying the cool dawn (no 87 degrees here). On my leisurely run this morning I took a few moments to admire the details of the historical Berke