Running Commentary

What did I do? Nothing. Unless you count left-right-left-right-left-right as doing something. I did that, but I also tried to take some mental notes on what I saw. I slogged along for some 80 minutes (a bit more than seven miles, I figure), so I hope my brain waves weren't completely flat. I ran straight down Channing Way toward the Bay, then doglegged onto Dwight, hopped the railroad tracks, and ran over the rise and into Aquatic Park. As I always do there, I thought of Rachel the Wonder Dog, my children's childhood pet and my companion on countless walks along the path next to the lake. What a crazy, good pup she was. Heading north on the path, I passed a playground teeming with families. It's a relatively new amenity, meaning it wasn't around during the 80s, when I ran here quite a bit. I made a resolution to bring my granddaughter here sometime. At 28 months of age, she is a big fan of playgrounds. She's fearless on poles and ladders, believing, it seems, that s...

That is my question. I have come very close to just deleting this blog because I never write in it any more. It seems harmless to let it just sit, but then it weighs on my mind as one more thing to do. I quit my full-time job, and one express purpose in doing that was to simplify my life and spend more of my time doing what I want to do rather than what I'm "s'posed" to do. But. My running life goes on, and I feel the need to give it a bit more space than it gets in my daily log. Log sample: Thursday, Sept. 7. 7:15 a.m., Las Vegas. Did 30 crunches. Ran from the Venetian up the Strip to the MGM Grand and back. Hard surface, many cars, huge, hideous casinos. Very warm! An interesting run. Later, swam a bit. Shoulder got achey, but did OK--even did a bit of breast stroke. So there I record the essentials, but feel as if there was more to it. My numbah one son has a blog, and he told me he tries to write in it at least once a month. If I can do that, I'll stay. If not...

I saw a quote in this morning's paper that struck a chord in me. Erik Davis, a pitcher for a college baseball team, was recently struck in the face by a line drive that shattered his right cheekbone and orbital socket. Ouch. Here's what he had to say: "People recover as quickly as they want to. You can look at things like this in one of two ways. You can regret it and feel sorry for yourself, or you can use it as an opportunity to make yourself better." It may be that his remark is just a version of the rather meat-headed saying, "No pain, no gain." But somehow it hit home for me. I've been doing a LOT of whining about my shoulder injury. I have been able to return to running, and my mobility increases daily, but I still have a lot of pain, especially at night. I DO regret that this happened, and have been throwing regular pity parties for myself. So do you think I've ever have thought of viewing a painful injury as an opportunity? Not hardly. Today,...

Spent some time today cleaning out my filing cabinet. I'm trying to impose a little order upon my working space now that I'm doing some freelancing and working in a "home office" (sounds more professional than "the corner of the bedroom"). I awoke this morning with what I call the Saturday morning bloopies, a state that others have been known to describe as a brain fog. Luckily Z dragged me first to the grocery store (I'll take three gallons of ice cream and a bag of cookies, please) and then to the gym. Because of my shoulder I can't really lift weights, but I ran a mile on the treadmill and worked the old quads and hamsters and back a bit. Did some crunches and bicycle kicks too, which no doubt looked a bit strange done by a person only flailing one arm. The bloopies dissipated a bit. Came home and ate peanut butter and jelly on a toasted whole wheat bagel, plus half an orange and half an apple--the rest went to Z, of course. Then I dove head-first...

I wasn't going to use another song title--planning just generally to break away from the old ways and throw myself head-first (but not shoulder first) into my new life. Ten days after I quit my full-time job, things are feeling a bit better. I grossly underestimated the impact making such a big change would have on me, figuring I'd just sail along. My boat had a hole in it there for a few days, one that's not all patched yet by any means. Anyway, my shoulder heals slowly and hope returns, because of or maybe despite the ministrations of my wonderful and sadistic physical therapist, Patrick. "When I hurt you, that's good!" says he. Yeah. So. Ran 6 1/2 miles yesterday and biked for an hour today. I feel flabby and grumpy, but definitely better. Summer is the best time. The very best.

...yes indeed, and I'm talkin' about...medical stuff. The films don't lie: I tore my rotator cuff and fractured my humerus. Why am I not laughing if it's so humerus? Actually, I am smiling. My shoulder improves by the day. Today I went with Z to the gym and ran a bit on the treadmill. I'm keeping my activity moderate, because I want to heal. I still haven't ridden my bike--am mostly just walking. What surprises me is how much pain I still have. When I first awake in the morning my entire right arm, right to my fingertips, aches. Then it eases. But as the day goes on I get tired, and by bedtime I'm miserable. But it's getting better. It's getting better. It's getting better. Since I hurt myself it seems I keep encountering other stories of woe, and all of them worse than mine. It keeps my little pity party from growing any bigger than it needs to be. Reminds me of one of my favorite Zen tales. A woman whose child had died went to the Buddha and be...

Today I put on my running clothes and went out the door, encouraged by my time yesterday at the gym and determined to find a way to work out today, too. I strapped my right arm into the sling, making it as snug as I could, and found I was able to do an inelegant run-shuffle for a few minutes at a time without causing too much pain to my shoulder. What a windy, cloudy day out there! But being out there was fine. I made my way over to the track at King school in about 30 minutes. Once there I made four laps around the track (might even have been five), running most of the way. I finally figured out that my shoulder took the jouncing best when I grabbed a handful of my sweatshirt at midsection height with my right hand. That anchor, combined with the restraint afforded by the sling, minimized the bouncing of my arm. I’ve tried to put thoughts of training for races or reaching mileage goals right out of my head for now and instead am attempting to concentrate on being thankful that I can s...

Yep, I've done it again. Once again I tangled with gravity and--surprise!--gravity won. Wednesday morning as I ran up a driveway to get onto the sidewalk I tripped over a fallen garbage can lid. I threw my arms up and out in front of myself in hopes of getting upright again, but succeeded only in coming down with most of my body weight on the inner part of my right shoulder. This was not a minor trip 'n' slip that I could jog away from. My shoulder and arm let me know that I'd put myself once again on the DL. I went to my doctor's office in the afternoon, where one of her minions (the same one who oversaw my hip injury) shook her head over me and said things like "possible rotator cuff tear," "may need an MRI," and "you stupid idiot." OK, I didn't actually hear her say that last, but if she had I wouldn't have argued with her. I am currently wearing a sling (see illus. 1), trying not to fall over when I enter and exit cars, and ...

Well, he doesn't really (he might think he's a car, but that's a different post). But it's a great song. Early Roseann Cash. The photo is BART, of course, and its chatter as it whooshes by overhead is part of the dawn chorus I enjoy when I'm running from the night into the day. Did 5.25 this morning, and the sky was light when I got back to the house around 5:30 a.m. I find this the most wonderful time of year. Yes, after a long blogging hiatus, I'm here to tell you I'm still running along. My feet still hurt, but laying off from running is more painful than having hot feet. I have an appointment in a couple of weeks with a podiatrist who is the son of a running crony, and am hoping that he will offer some new insight into an active rehabilitation (translation: he'll tell me it's OK to keep running). To catch up: Z and I did the Avenue of the Giants half marathon May 7. It was lovely -- perfect cool day -- and I beat him by more than a minute. Now do...

That's what we'll be doing, come Sunday. Maybe giving me plantar faciitis was God's way of telling me to rest before the race. I haven't run since Sunday and my feet feel a bit better. The good part is that I haven't been getting up at 4:30 a.m., and so feel really rested. My legs don't ache every time I stand up! So of course, I'm planning on running tomorrow morning. Hey, there's resting and then there's sloth. I've been stretching my achilles and also icing and massaging the bottoms of my feet. Sad to say they really are still pretty sore. But the Avenue of the Giants course is mostly dirt, which will help immensely. This foot thing is nothing new to me, which is why I just keep on going when it gets worse. I recall that last year at this race my feet were the most uncomfortable part of my body during the latter half of the run. My left hip also ached; it's another little chronic nagger. Not sure I've ever mentioned it here, but I have...

Well, looks like I beat mine too much. Left heel, which has been aching dully, is suddenly quite painful. I went for a short one this morning (3.5 mi.), and it hurt more than usual, at least for the first mile. When I got home it was fine, but after I showered it started in barking again. Advil and ice calmed it down, but now, at 2 p.m., it hurts like heck. More ice, more Advil. This may be the running gods' way of telling me to taper before the half marathon. As in, lay off for a week (yeah, right). Going to go out in a little bit and look at new shoes. My work shoes, which I wear every day, started out cushy but over the course of six months have sunk to the comfort level of a couple of planks. While I'm in a shoe frame of mind, I think I'll go to my local running store over the weekend and lay out a small fortune for a new pair of Sauconys. The supposed life of a pair of running shoes is 300 to 500 miles, but I find after about 250 I start to hear that slap-slap that si...

I'm not that blue, but loved this song title when I found it at this great site about weird song titles on the Internet ( http://www.ohek.co.uk/funnies/fun-titles.htm ). My intention was to whine about how quickly time goes by--but I decided why bother. Every time I do, nothing changes, if you can imagine that. Don't know why not. Between running and working my day job and my freelance job, blogging has slipped on my priorities list. But I've been running a lot, and except for a nagging sore left heel, it's been going well. Z and I are set to run the Ave. of the Giants half marathon on May 7, so we're both tapering a bit this week. ("Tapering": the practice of resting tired legs for a week or two before a big race; the process of tapering off from the usual habit of running like a crazed gerbil for hours at a time.) I've decided it's unrealistic for me to plan on running the SF Marathon at the end of July, so I'll probably do the half and then...

Well, a bike named Blu. Trying to upload an image in a hurry, and having no luck. So I'll just go ahead and paste in the latest adventures of our friend Geores as described by the man himself. His van is named Liah, and his bike is named Blu. Here's what he's been up to: 04/12, the last day of month one, 1:30PM; sitting in front of the closed, Kiowa, library, even though the sign reads "OPEN 9AM to 5PM." But that's kind of what the morning's been like. Awake at 3:45 in a clearing off of 69 that was parked in after dark. Started runner's oatmeal and coffee at 4AM. Ate the oatmeal then took a nap afterward with coffee on low to slowly perk. woke up in morning light and discovered the driveway that Liah was parked in. In the ensuing rush to get things in order for travel, the hot, yes HOT, coffee came down in a shockingly painful gush on the bare right foot, scalding it red, and changing the color of a goodly portion of Liah's green carpet to brown. A...

Here's Geores, one of our buddies from our running club. You can get the full story by Googling "Clevenger 69." Geores is a wild man, in the way all runners secretly hope they are. His wife is one of the finest people you could ever know, too. I felt a bit wild myself this morning, with joy, that is, when I awoke and for the first time in 40 days and 40 nights it wasn't raining. Yes, I am serving whine with my jeez. Anyway, out I went. Did 6 before breakfast. I've recently been heading for the north-south streets that offer some hills--figure it's better for me than sticking to the flats. Today I rolled up and down Peralta. Z and I are getting in decent shape for our upcoming half marathon, which is on May 7. He is looking great because not only is he running well, he's spending more time at the gym. Me? I get there once a week and grouse the whole time I'm there. Can't say it's buffed me up much, but I do feel a bit more stable through the mid...

It has to stop raining before I run out of rain-related song titles. So much water, so little time. I've managed to keep my running going despite never-ending rain. I don't want it to sound as if I'm whining—I probably mind the rain less than many people. If I can get under way before a sprinkle becomes a deluge, I'm actually fine with a little precipitation. Ran 5 miles this morning around 4:30. Since daylight saving started up, it's dark again in the early morning, very dark, but the street lights illuminate my solitary running stage. I had a good week last week. Did a total of 20 miles, plus managed a gym workout and a 30-minute swim. Z and I are looking toward Avenue of the Giants, the half marathon, on May 7. I feel I'll be in much better shape for it than I was last year, and the pain was bearable even then. I know, pain being bearable seems an odd criterion for a successful activity. No one said runners weren't weird.

That was the question posed my first run in Phoenix, on March 24. It was already warm at 6:40 a.m. when I headed out from the Super 8 Motel on East Van Buren Street in the direction of the canal and its long, sandy path. But it was a weekday, and traffic was fierce, so I decided to cut north on 37th street to the canal. By about the second block into the shortcut I started hearing barking. I realized the street was lined on both sides with fenced-in, snarling dogs, all of whom seemed to think I looked a lot like breakfast. These weren’t your family puppy dogs -- these were guard dogs, long of fang and glittery of eye. I averted my face as much as I could (aren’t you supposed to do that?) and jogged on, confident that I’d be at my destination soon. As I approached the end of the street, first I saw a dog that was unfenced and off-leash, and then I saw a high, chain-link fence with a padlocked gate in it that was the only possible exit from the street onto the canal path. I contemplated ...

Quick thought this morning. I want to share a weight-loss tip that has worked for me in the past when I've taken the trouble to follow it. You know those handy bags of pre-washed salad you can get at the grocery store? Well, here's the tip. When you do your weekend shopping, find some on sale. If you're shopping for five days ahead, buy one bag per day per person who wants to try the gimmick. Then go to the salad dressing aisle and buy some fat-free rasberry vinaigrette or some other pretty flavorful fat-free dressing (there are many good ones available). Then, for the next five days, eat whatever you'd normally eat for lunch or dinner, except only about half the amount you would usually have. Also dump half a bag of salad (Mixed greens? Romaine? Spinach? Your choice--) in a big bowl, toss with two tablespoons dressing, and eat it with your meal. One caveat: if your bag of salad comes with nuts, raisins, or its own fatty dressing, use your discretion. A few nuts are OK,...

Light by the time I finshed my run this morning. At 6 a.m.! I've taken a freelance copyediting job, on top of my day job, so my time lately has been at a premium. But my running continues, albeit a bit creakily. Saturday I did 6 along the BART path, then Sunday 5 more with my sometimes-running partner, John, along the Bay Trail heading toward Emeryville. This morning I was out the door at 4:40 and in the middle of the road before I realized—hey, it's raining! Showing my usual wisdom and discretion in matters weatherly, I headed out and ran 5.5. As usual, I felt great by the time I hit mile 3, and finished feeling pleased with the world. Since my recovery from my fall I find myself plagued with various small pains, the causes of which aren't easily apparent. My left heel hurt all last week, throbbing as I ran until the endorphins kicked in. Aggressive icing and steady ibuprofen seem to have alleviated the intensity of that pain, at least for now. Also, my left hip has been ...

Can't believe a week has gone by since I posted here. Too much work. Luckily I'm hatching a plot to get shed my office-mole identity. Missed my run Tuesday because of rain. Oh, misery. But this morning I went, and it was lovely. Also, last Saturday Z and I ran the running club's fun run, which went out the Bay Trail to the Richmond harbor and back. Felt good, felt strong, oh yay. I haven't felt like going to the gym lately, which is a bit of a worry, but as long as I'm running I don't beat myself up too much.

Got in my 5 miles this morning in the cold and blustery dark. Can't fathom where my 4:30 a.m. energy comes from, but rather than question too hard I just give thanks that I have it. I took a new route today. Ran straight up Allston Way to Oxford--a gentle but unbroken climb. Then I headed north, eventually ending up running down Hopkins to Gilman and back via my old friend the Ohlone Greenway path and then stopping briefly in Dark Park (my name for it) to do some crunches and push-ups. I can now do 10 of the latter if I push up from a bench that is about 2 feet from the ground. That's progress from a couple of months ago, but it's rather glacial progress. I've about decided to skip my gym workout tomorrow afternoon. Last week being at the gym was a gruesome experience--I was one crankypants dudette. I have free weights and ankle weights at home, and hereby pledge to do a home workout to combat "torpor and sloth" (a Buddhist phrase). If I ride my bike beforehan...