Running Commentary

What I'm doing other than not running? First and foremost, trying to cultivate a positive attitude. Seriously, that's the biggest thing I feel I can do to hasten my recovery. So last Saturday I volunteered to staff the aid station for my running club 's ORF pacing groups. The run was along the Carquinez Strait , and I was stationed in a primo spot. It was a stunning day, the air was brisk, and the runners were each and every one impressive--beautiful, even. Earlier last week I spent three out of five work days visiting my overpriced gym and working out, hitting in no particular order the Concept rower, the spin bike, the elliptical machine, and the pool. The rower and the bike seemed the least painful, so this week I'll do them again. Not this past weekend but the one before, I paid a visit to my home town to attend the memorial service of a dear family friend. I was honored to be asked to speak, so even though I was a bit scared (my little talk just preceded talks by

I spent Saturday and Sunday at a Level 1 coaching clinic sponsored by the USATF . Not all of it pertained to running per se, but despite that, 99 percent of it was still quite interesting. The presenters were articulate, learned, and funny—who could ask for more. No offense to the very fine RRCA , but this weekend’s course was by far the better of the two coaching clinics I’ve ever attended. It was just as well that I was confined to a chair for two days—kept me from weeping with frustration over my re-injured piriformis (a.k.a. my butt). I’m afraid I whined too much to the three other women from my club who were taking the course. So much that today I feel whined out. What’s really shutting me up is an article I was just reading about the 2012 Houston Marathon trials. I hadn't known that the 2012 men’s trial winner, Meb Keflezighi, was only able to place eighth in the 2007 Olympic Trials—small matter of running on a fractured hip. And by the way, last Saturday he won by running

It was a dark and stormy night. Ok, it wasn’t stormy. In fact, it wasn’t even night—it was 5 am. But it was dark, for darn sure. Except for the almost-full moon, which lit my pathway to misery. Misery because that morning, Tuesday, I went out for a run and ended up re-injuring my piriformis . At least this time I know what it is and I know how to treat it. I’ve already seen Dr. Jess, who told me to revert to running 4 slow minutes and then walking for 1 minute. I’ll do that, but not until I’ve spent a couple more days not running. Yesterday and today I went to the gym for some bike / rower / elliptical cardio and supplemented that with some strengthening exercises and some targeted stretches. Things may work out. Because this weekend and next I am unavailable to perform my duties as a pace group leader for the Oakland Running Festival Half Marathon training group, I won’t be called upon to do a long-ish run for another 2½ weeks. Fate was unkind enough to injure me again, but

I am just feeling blessed. I'm easing back in to running and it is feeling good. I'm still doing a few walk breaks, but for the most part am chugging along steadily since my last post, where I talked about running the Dam 5K Dash with the beginning running class. When I'm running with a group, I say to myself, "running with a group is the best way ever!" But then a couple of days later I wake up before dawn and head out to the chilly streets. Before long I'm saying to myself, "running this way, alone and free while the rest of the world is asleep and the day just being born, is the best way ever!" I'm so thankful I don't have to choose only one way or the other. This past Saturday I ran with the group my running club is sponsoring for runners training for the Oakland Running Festival Half Marathon . I am a pace group leader for the slightly velocity-challenged folks, among whom I definitely number myself. We did about six miles at Bay Farm I