Running Commentary

Maybe that's what's been happening since I left LA last March. I was mostly living here between September 2012 and March 2013, and during that time I got might fond of my urban runs. I run sorta kinda urban in Berkeley, but the Berkeley streets are bush league compared to the gritty LA thoroughfares. Santa Monica Boulevard. Wilshire. Sepulveda. Even Veteran and Sawtelle have their share of noir shadows. I'm here for a brief holiday visit, which I couldn't take to mean that I should skip my 8-miler this morning. Not much to tell about it, really, except that because the baby woke me at 4:30, I staggered out the door about 5:20--which meant there was still a lot of dark out there. My running continues to go reasonably well, but today I felt a cranky right hamstring and a grumpy left plantar fascia, so I took it slow. South down Overland to Pico, west on Pico across Sepulveda and under the freeway (ignoring any spooky movements caught out of the corner of my eye--d

Busy days. Trying to keep my mileage up while working on the endless house remodel project (by working I don't mean hammer and nail-ing -- more like wringing my hands and trying to organize our stuff. Takes a lot of time and energy, that hand-wringing thing). The very good news is that I continue to run. I get my share of aches and pains, but in general, I'm healthy and mobile. It's been nippy here in the cities by the bay, and even though our chill is nothing compared to what else is happening across the nation, it does take some adjusting to. Getting dressed, from top down: funny looking knit hat, double underwear (TMI?), long-sleeved shirt, running jacket with sleeves that flip over the fingers, light gloves, compression capris under warm-up pants, same ol' Sauconys and socks. Yesterday it almost took longer to dress than to run-walk 10 miles! And the silly thing is, even though the temp was below freezing, by mile 3, I was too hot.  It's enough to dri

I guess that's what I'm thinking--now or never. If I don't run a marathon now, well, when will I? Am I saving it for five years from now? Funny, these are the questions I was asking myself when I was 49 years old and had never run a marathon before. I ended up training for and running the San Francisco Marathon on July 14, 1996 (Bastille Day), a date I've since regarded as one of the best days ever in my life. BUT. Fast forward to March 27, 2011, on the streets of West Oakland about five hours into the Oakland Marathon. You'll see me, headed toward Lake Merritt at a glacial pace, staggering, limping, and moaning like I'd recently been dropped from a helicopter flying a thousand feet up. I was approaching the end of my ninth marathon, and let me tell you, it felt like I was actually approaching the end of my life as a healthy human. On the course in Berkeley For days, months, even, after Oakland, I could be heard saying, "That's it. I'm t

For at least the last three days I have a feeling I've been impossible to live with. I'd ask Z if that's true, but I don't want to know the answer. I'm fearful about everything. A bike ride to the gym today felt like a life-threatening proposition. What if I got hit by a train in Emeryville? What if I got a flat and my cell phone didn't work? What if I made it alive to the gym but while I was there dropped a 20-pound weight on my foot and busted every metatarsal I own? (I know, fat chance that I could lift a 20-pound weight. But still.) I've been in the grip of what feels like existential angst--what is the meaning of life??!!??! It has no meaning.  We're all doomed. Etcetera.  The feeling is familiar, and I recognize that it usually hits right on schedule a few days before a long race. Oh, such as the Berkeley Half Marathon, coming up this Sunday? Uh, yeah. Looking through my trove of phone photos, trying to find something appropriate for this whi

Actually, it wasn't that spooky, although I did take the photo for this post yesterday, which was Halloween. This face? Well, I'm not saying it was watching me, but I wouldn't say oh no if someone told me it was ALIVE. Me? Scared? Bwah ha ha! I'm writing to let you know that something that's not a face or a bird is haunting me--a poletrgeist in my legs. I seem to have Restless Leg Syndrome , a truly creepy feeling in the legs that occurs at night when I want to sleep. It started the night after the Humboldt Half (11 days ago) and has plagued me constantly since then. This on top of my recent attack of the soy-allergy rash has me whining. Like a banshee, you might say--but please don't. Today is a new day, and tonight's bedtime a new bedtime. If any of you (all 8 of my readers) has any tips on how to make my legs stop doing the bunny hop while I'm in bed (oops, wrong holiday), please go to my FB page and share. I'm cutting way back on caffeine,

Notice the type is green today. I've recently ventured twice into the wild, where there have been actual trees--a bit of a change for this urban running gal. The first wild excursion (if a race with 649 galumphing humans in it can be called wild) was the Humboldt Redwoods Half Marathon, last weekend. I was pretty nervous during the weeks and days leading up to the race, but ended up having a reasonably good run.  Yes, my hips got sore, and yes, I did some run-walking, but I'm not embarrassed about my time--heck, I showed up and fought the good fight! (Oops, sorry about the militaristic metaphor. Blame it on the endorphins--or maybe on the bagpiper.) Just FYI, I came in sixth out of the 12 women in my age group. My friend L was second--yay!! The other scenery experience occurred this morning when I went out for my club's Saturday fun-slash-training run. It took place in Redwood Park (lots of redwoods in these scenic excursions).  I went out earlier than the rest

We start this post with a picture of the Atlantic Ocean. It's cool, calm, and beautiful, like I aspire to be. I'm running the Humboldt Half Marathon a week from Sunday, and have been cheerleading myself in preparation. I address all my body parts with a "Yay, you can do it!" attitude. Body parts include the brain, who needs to be told "You are strong. You can do anything, including continue to function as your body gets beaten into the ground!" To my nose, I give the happy suggestion: "Don't forget to stop and smell the you-know-whats!" "Feet," I say, "I know you tend to cramp. It's okay, babies. Just hang in there. C'mere, let me give you a massage!"  Meanwhile, I continue to run, but try to do it gingerly so I don't annoy any more body parts:  "Aw, come on piriformi [the plural of piriformus?], don't go all whiny on me now." Got back a couple of weeks ago from a trip to the East C

That's what I had this morning. For the first time in many months (years?) I volunteered to help out at my running club 's monthly race. Because I also wanted to get in a run of my own, I hightailed it over to Lake Merritt before the sun was up so I could do a loop before reporting for duty.  Yesterday was rainy--unusual for this time of year--and my run for that day was a 4.75 miler with the Berkeley Half gang, an outing started, continued, and finished in a total downpour! (Now there's a blog post you're not going to see from me.) Today, on the other hand, was gorgeous from the git-go. Lights reflecting off the mirror of the lake, pelicans purposefully paddling as the sun rose behind them. And me, doing a Slow-Zone run (see previous posts), sans Garmin, sans chronograph, sans stress. After my run came the club run, which you could say was well run, in every sense of the word. Organizers and runners all shone, and not just because they were in the sun

Another Slow Zone run this morning. I spent most of it being thankful for the trail that has gradually, finally been extended almost to my doorstep. A slow-zone run is the perfect time to appreciate this trail and all other urban trails--they are corridors of health and safety that invite even the naturally indolent to venture out, to come and explore. I've run this particular trail so many times that the notion of "exploring" and finding something new may be some kind of pipe dream, except--when I get in slow-zone mode I really do always see something I've never seen before, be it a plant, a human, or even (and I really did see this once) three raccoons perched one on top of another, totem-pole style, in a tall, skinny tree. This morning was about the wonderful September air and and about the clouds. I do love the Sunday stillness and, thanks to the wonderful folks who created this trail, I can get into that stillness with very little effort. 

Did my third Slow-Zone run this morning, that outing where once a week I leave my Garmin on the shelf and just lollygag and shuffle for a few miles and then go home. I went out for only three (or so) miles this time, as I was feeling a bit fatigued. The idea of the S-Z run is to recover, anyway, not to tear up the trail with blazing speed. So today I went out the Ohlone Greenway to the chickens (what Z and I call the quail sculptures at the bridge over Codornices Creek) and then back, a total distance Garmin has repeatedly told me is three miles.  One of the features of a S-Z run is that I allow myself to follow that ever-present impulse to take pictures, be they silly or serious or somewhere in between.  Another feature is that there are no restrictions on features. This morning I added the activity of running backward for a while. Then I tried running three steps with eyes open, three with eyes closed (did this on a newly paved, open straightaway displaying no discernible

It was off to the track again this morning, for installment #2 of the Yasso 800s project.  The track was ready for me--on the field someone had stenciled a giant "E" in the end zone. I'm sure they knew I was coming. I had a good run--not much to say about it, except that I'm still trying to capture not only the spirit of the Yasso 800s but also the mechanics, as in, how fast I need to run. Let's just say my comprehensive understanding is a work in progress. My ultimate goal is two-fold: to increase my weeklly mileage without getting hurt, and to wring as much speed from my aging body as I can without getting hurt.  (I guess you could add "without getting hurt" to most anything I aspire to do, running-wise.) Yesterday I was beat from running long Sunday and short Monday, so I took a 20-minute nap in the afternoon. This morning I felt just fine.  Fine enough to appreciate this tree that I passed on my way home from the track. I am an unabash

In my continuing effort to bump up my weekly mileage, this morning I did another "Slow Zone" run. I left my Garmin at home and just set out to lollygag for three or four miles. Often when I run I put pressure on myself to hit speed and/or distance goals, or at least to forego walk breaks. But the purpose of a Slow Zone run is to forget about all that. (Its other purpose it to recover from a longer run performed the day before by just getting the blood moving without courting injury by being too zealous). Not much was going on at 5:45 this morning, a circumstance that is perfect for S-Z running. On yesterday's long-ish run, before I'd gone a mile I saw a spaced-out young couple sitting on a blanket on the ground at the local tennis court, sheltering a candle from the breeze and looking very solemn, like people who had been up all night and had deep matters on their mind.  Not long after I passed them I heard another couple--age indeterminate--shouting angrily i

As the end of summer draws near, I thought it appropriate today to go back to school. To schools, actually. I was looking to run five today, so jumped up early and got out the door. I headed up the hill to Berkeley High, where the track is always accessible these days because a bunch of big burly guys consistently show up at the crack of dawn to work at all the construction happening on campus. The rather sepulchral and very serious monument above is part of the school's new look. Luckily for the school, the worrisome tilt of the whole thing came courtesy of the photographer--it's actually pretty plumb (if not totally plum dandy). For fun I thought I'd try a couple of Yasso 800s   just to see how it felt. The run up to the track was .75 miles, so I was more or less warmed up--enough, anyway, to start my workout. The idea is that you start with a goal time for a marathon or half marathon. For me my marathon goal these days would be 5 hours, while my half would be 2

And what is the law? It's that when I visit LA I have to run along the route I was running twice a week last year during the time I was living here.  The law requires that I run by the kind of businesses I won't see on my Berkeley runs. The law also mandates that I run south to Santa Monica Blvd., head west over to Greenfield St., high-tail it north up to UCLA, go to the gym for a short workout, and then eat a granola bar and left-right it all the way home.  A subsection of the statute demands at least one crossing of Westwood Blvd. I obeyed the law--to borrow the words of Richard Nixon, "I am not a crook." All this is to say that this morning, I heeded the LA Law. I hadda do it! Great to be here and see family, and to relax a bit. And, as always, to run.

It was that kind of day. A day when I was fatigued, yet wanted to run. Decided to take a true recovery run, and so left my Garmin at home. No info about pace or time--yikes. It's how I ran for years and years, actually, but I've become a Garmin addict. What? No lame (but cute) little map to upload to the computer?  Confession: I knew how far I wanted to run and, because Garmin has told me 100 times how far out the Ohlone Greenway I need to go to hit the 2-mile mark (to BART pillar number 114), I actually know what today's out-and-back gave me mileage-wise. But. I went at a comfortable pace; I looked around, for a change, and saw some sights that are often right before my eyes but rarely in my consciousness.  How about a bright orange house?  How about a yard full of flowers? I'm trying to keep my weekly mileage around 20 miles, and am thinking a Slow Zone run every week could help me do that by adding in some stress-free distance. Yes, I see th

... this on my run this morning. My monkey mind might have been auditioning for a part in The Wizard of Oz , the way it was screeching and jumping around as I ran. To think I used to believe that when I was older I would be through with feelings, worries, etc. In reality, although I think I've mellowed with age (or am I just tired?), a lot of the time I find I still have to fight with myself to stay positive. That's where running comes in. Woke up this morning ready to fight the world--came back from my 7.5-miler feeling blessed and, if not blissful, at least ready to approach the world about working out a truce for the day.

My running has actually been going well lately. (I hope the running gods aren't paying attention as I write this.) Z and I are living in the chaos of a house remodel--the current phase of this upheaval involves emptying the house of all our worldly goods and putting them in a storage container that looks like it came from the gulag--all so we can get the floors refinished. Because of the domestic craziness, plus a lot of (welcome) freelance work, I'd have expected my running to suffer, but it hasn't. Also, we re-joined our old gym, and I've even been able lately to heft some iron (which is cool talk for "lift some not-very-heavy weights) a couple of times a week. Last weekend I ran by Elaine Street. This as part of a visit made on the fly to my favorite nephew and his family, who are settling into a great house they recently purchased, in the burg they like to call Cartoon City.  I haven't taken a lot of photos on the run, lately, a sure sign that my runn