Afternoon run in the hills

If you keep visiting the same places, you see things.  The same place is not the same day to day, month to month, year to year. 

Seasons change. 

Migratory birds come and go.

And sometimes, you just see something you've never seen before.

That is a very bad photo.  But it shows two white pelicans on the left, a turkey vulture in the center, and two red-tail hawks -- all riding the same air current about 400 feet above the trail.  Pelicans, clockwise; hawks counter-clockwise.

So what else did I see? 

I don't know who is the cause of this sign.  In a good wet year (not this year!) I think the California Newt (Taricha torosa) is out crossing roads to get to vernal pools and streams in September.  So for one thing, this is the wrong time of year for newt crossings (I think?).  For another thing, this spot is on an outside curve of the road, not at the inside curve of the arroyo where (if there were water) there would be a concentration of newts (at whatever the newts think is the right time to go all amphibian).  So:  strange naturalist/environmentalist behavior here. 

We may have seen this hillside before in these pages.  Adobe clay sliding and crumbling (depending on season and wet year / dry year) over the sandstone cliff supports blue dicks, poppies, grasses -- and later on, a variety of thorny, thistley things.

It was a lovely post-equinoctial day with little wind and lots of sunshine.  6.4 "Long, Slow" miles.  Sunday is the end of my "running week".  (I'm a Monday-start sort of guy really.  Theology aside, the weekend is the Week End.)  So it was a nice end to the Running Week as well. 

Something in the air

I hate running on streets.  The drivers are crazy; the sidewalks, where present, are uneven and interrupted by parked cars or overgrown shrubbery; nasty dogs who know their humans encourage such behavior will charge and yap and try to nip.  So this evening when it turned out that the high school track was crowded with the kind of people who looked like they owned those nasty dogs, and who had parked their fat posteriors upon their camp chairs on the track (On! The! Track!) to watch their precious overachievers play a game that involves getting a ball in a thing (but which is not Quidditch), I executed a hasty retreat and headed to get my running miles in at Venue Plan B,  the marina park. 

The sun was behind the hills but the sky was still bright as I headed away from the car.  The tide was slack, and the air calm and warm and moist.  The first half mile of my route was an out-and-back past the baseball fields.  The grass there was freshly mown.  That scent is deeply evocative of my childhood, of being out still playing in the dusk until Dad whistled for us to come home.  Not only was there a scent, but a taste.  The air was that laden with essence of a kind of lawn tea.

Then away from the athletic fields, running past the bocce pits and the playground, across the road and out onto the wetlands trails of the park, I am facing west, and can admire the pink and gold of high cirrus clouds above the sunset.  Heading out along the edge of the bay, another scent reaches me: the tang of healthy salt water.  Here is a clean ocean smell, although many miles up the bay almost to where the delta is becoming fresh water.  And again, the taste.  Ions.  How therapeutic to breathe, almost to drink, that ocean air!

In the few minutes it takes to reach my turnaround point, the sky has lost most of its glow.  Away from the water now, the path turns past the railroad tracks.  The air is full of scent here too.  Creosote from railroad ties.  A hint of laurel coming down the arroyo across the way.  The heavy note of diesel exhaust from the idling train yard locomotive.  Eucalyptus nearby.

Just before the turn that would take me back to the water of the bay, a sweet perfume causes me to halt on the darkening trail.  That scent.  My eyes scan the dim scene and -- ah! -- there is the source of the sweet:  a volunteer almond tree in full blossom.  Again, the smell is working on my memories somehow.  What does that remind me of?  I couldn't quite pin it down until I was home, after shower and dinner and several chapters of War and Peace. 

Show of hands!  Who remembers those pink and white frosted animal cookies with the little colored dot sprinkles on them?  Anybody?  That was the smell.  Or at least the taste of the air that carried that smell was remarkably similar to the taste I remember of those cookies.  At least, what those cookies tasted like about fifty years ago.

The olfactory can call up powerful reminiscences. 

Old and slow, old and slow...

I worked so hard.  I pushed.  I ran way past my comfort zone.  Every time I was boxed in, I put on a burst of speed rather than hold back.  I felt utterly drained at the end. 

And my time for today's 5K was slower than my last one.

*sigh*

It's Jesse Owens' 100th Birthday

In 1936, the great Jesse Owens totally pwnzd the 1936 Berlin Olympics by winning Gold Medals in 100M, 200M, Long Jump, and 4X100M Relay. 

12 September 2013 is the 100th anniversary of his birth.

Owens is shown here on the medal podium after the Long Jump, beating members of axis powers Germany and Japan.

Reports were that der Führer was not pleased. 

Sucks to be an "inferior race", don't it Adolph?! 

[wiki pic]

Thursday Afternoon Trail Run

An automobile carrier (roll-on/roll-off) ship passes Point Benicia in the Carquinez Straight on its way to the AMPORTS dock 25 July 2013.

 

 

The base of an ancient bay tree has become ten or so trunks along the arroyo.

Looking up in a grove of old bay trees

About 500 feet higher than the spot where the picture of the boat was taken, we're looking northwest along the fire trail that locals call "the wall" -- that last quarter mile has most of the elevation gain!

And here we stand at the top of the ridge, looking southeast toward Mount Wanda.  John Muir hiked these very hills more than a hundred years ago!

A Triptych of Tanka About Running

June 8 2013



I.
Hot red rubber track,
Four hundred meter repeats.
Best part of my run --
In suddenly clear focus:
A lizard on the sidewalk.

II.
On a predawn run,
Against the luminous sky:
An osprey hunting,

One wheeling white pelican,
A black line of cormorants.

III.
Cracked adobe trail,
Doing some miles in the hills.
Highlight of the run:
Up in the wind on the ridge,
Luminous stalks of dry grass.

[Tanka  is a form of poetry that originated in Japan, in which the lines are arranged with a set number of syllables, in the form 5, 7, 5, 7, 7.] 

 

Any job worth doing...

Way back in 1979 when I was trying to finish a major college paper, I put up a little sign over my desk:  "Any job worth doing is worth doing poorly." 

I had come to the realization, you see, that some weird idealism was keeping me at the task of constantly tweaking the product, to such an extent that the final  product was never going to be produced.

I grew up with the "do it right" mentality.  My mom would scrub the kitchen floor on hands and knees because, "Otherwise it just doesn't get clean."  Dad would see me washing the car and say, "While you're at it, why don't you just pull it into the shade and give it a coat of wax?" 

My kitchen floor is lucky if I spot-clean the occasional spill, or give it a hasty sweep.  My current car (and most others back through my vehicle ownership history) have been uncontaminated by car wax. 

But what I'm really talking about is running. 

Part of my mind still defaults to "do it right" so much that it risks doing nothing.

The running schedule called for 7 miles today.  I just wasn't up to that.  I almost just turned off the alarm and said, "No run today."  Instead, I got up dark and early and ended up doing 3.7 miles.  Me and the birds and the deer and the cottontails in the dawn's early light. 

"Only" three point seven miles. 

Calling it good.  After all, any job worth doing...

It's all in the timing

After a three day weekend, Tuesday feels like Monday.  Remembering after getting home after an extra-innings day at work (more and more of those lately, it seems) that today is a scheduled run day, I instead collapse into a chair.  What's the matter with me?  Oh yeah, I didn't have much lunch, and what I did have was six hours ago.  Dear sweet Mrs. Crowndot makes dinner. Aah.  That feels better.  Wow, I bet I could even go for a run now.  Except that the alimentary canal resembles a boa constrictor that just swallowed its monthly capybara. 

If I want to stick to the run schedule, I have to plan the whole day around it.

"Smalls"

Yes, smalls.  In particular, men's smalls.  I know: too much information.

 Never. The. Less.

In the men's shorts world, there is choice of many unsatisfactory arrangements for the bottom half.  Boxers, briefs, boxer-briefs...  Within this world, the available products are made almost entirely by Hanes or by Fruit-of-the-Loom. 

H and FOL have demonstrated their misandry by introducing products for eunuchs, products for donkeys; products made of moisture-impervious materials, products made of industrial abrasives; products that bind in one place and are loose in another, products that are loose in one place and bind in another.  So there are lots of choices.  Without even getting into the choice between the products that fall apart after the first wash, and those that fall apart over the course of half a year of normal use. 

Yes I realize that there are more options if you want to think outside the box:  commando; athletic specialties / European designerwear; gay partywear ("not that there's anything wrong with that").  But those are either "for occasional use, only as directed" or far too pricey for this author to countenance the purchase of the eight to twelve units I like to have in stock. 

It occurs to me:  Hanes and Fruit-of-the-Loom are the Macintosh and Microsoft of the underwear world.  They both hate us, and it's just a question of which is the least uncomfortable fit.  Moreover, the great fit and function you bought last time is a.) not available any more;  b.) dumbed down to the point that it is now produced offshore so it looks like  the product you knew, but now with the added features of random dimensions, abrasive materials, and self-destruction in the laundry. 

H and FOL meet over a drink and smirk together.  "Where else are they gonna go?"  They slap each other on the back.  "Ubuntu?!"

Become the path

"You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself." - Gautama Buddha

"Now bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible." - Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

"There are clubs you can't belong to, neighborhoods you can't live in, schools you can't get into, but the roads are always open." - Old Nike ad

"Never, ever, ever give up." - Winston Churchill

"It's never too late to be what you might have been." - (I don't know who said this one)

"Some of the world's greatest feats were accomplished by people not smart enough to know they were impossible." - Doug Larson

"Happiness is pushing your limits and watching them back down" - Old New Balance ad

"I love hills.  If it weren't for hills, I'd have to bring climbing gear." - overheard at a race

"The more restricted our society and work become, the more necessary it will be to find some outlet for this craving for freedom. No one can say, ‘You must not run faster than this, or jump higher than that.’ The human spirit is indomitable." - Roger Bannister

"Whether you believe you can or believe you can’t, you’re probably right." - Henry Ford

"It’s elevating and humbling at the same time. Running along a beach at sunrise with no other footprints in the sand, you realize the vastness of creation, your own insignificant space in the plan, how tiny you really are, your own creatureliness  and how much you owe to the supreme body, the God that brought all this beauty and harmony into being." - Sister Marion Irvine (2:51 PR and 1984 U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials qualifier)

"Sure, I 'become the path' -- every time I run trails in summer, half the path comes home stuck in my socks!" - (I just made that one up.)

A little sunshine

My escape from my place of employment was only fifteen minutes (that's like leaving early!) later than my "scheduled" departure time (nine and a half hours after my must-be-there-in-the-morning time) today.  Arriving at home, I did not dawdle in my preparation to dress and head out for a run.  So there was not only sunshine on my skin and a strong shadow to share my footsteps for much of the route, there was also a spot in a lingering ray between the hills in which to relax after the workout. 

Sitting in the sun on a low retaining wall, listening to the sound of birds all around, I noticed a fat alligator lizard doing push ups in the sun on the same retaining wall.

Being near a critter who is unconcerned about my presence makes me happy.  So often my view of critters -- birds, deer, lizards, or whatever -- is just butts.  Running away.  It's nice to simply be a creature sharing space in the sun with another creature sometimes. 

 

Three And Ones

Sometimes I mix some walking into my run.  There is benefit to spending a certain amount of time on the legs, or covering a certain amount of distance, regardless of the effort level or aerobic zone in which it occurs.  Bones,  tendons, ligaments, muscles -- all strengthen in response to the stress of being used.

Yet at my age ( cough - mid-50s - cough ) I am extremely wary lest injury cause a setback.  The idea of doing like Prefontaine and going all out all the time is a recipe for injury.

So yesterday, for example, I did my 5 mile Sunday "long run" by setting the interval timer on my watch to repeat and alternate between a three minute interval and a one minute interval.  Run three, walk one.  That worked for where I happened to be condition-wise that day.  My overall time ended up being  right where the McMillan Running training pace thing advised me to be.

Another successful training week!

Plus, I get out and see the pretty poppies!

Wednesday's Run

I have a plan.  A running plan.  An actual written schedule for my training runs.

I'm running four times a week:  Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Sunday.  Sunday is "long run" day, Tuesday and Friday are basically Time On Legs.  And starting this week, Wednesday is "Speed Training" day. 

I hesitate to use the word speed  in relation to bipedal locomotion done by me. 

The nice people at McMillan Running have a training pace calculator.  They are nice people because while they want to sell training advice to "serious" runners, they don't mind giving some free stuff away to those who are strictly dabblers like myself.  You put in a recent race time, an actual time over distance you've done at your current level of fitness.  Then you put in a goal time.  What comes out as a result is a table of paces for various types of training runs.

I find the McMillan paces useful for two reasons.  It can help keep me from doing my Sunday long run too fast -- and that can keep me from getting injured.  And it can also give me a mental boot in the butt to do my Wednesday run faster than I think I can. 

Wednesday was scheduled as a 30 minute Tempo run.  My "good" recent 5K time was 29:51, and my goal time for now is 28:30.  (I'm old and slow, get over it.)  So the Tempo pace range was 9:46 - 10:04 per mile.  That is quite a bit faster than my Time On Legs runs.  Nevertheless.  I had to do it.  Cry in the dojo, laugh on the battlefield, and all that.  You know.  If wishes were horses then beggars would ride -- well if wishes were training runs then couch potatoes would be improving their 5K times. 

You plan the run, then you run the plan.

I did it.  And met the pace goal.  And had to fight my stupid brain which kept telling me I was gonna die, DIE!  Take that, stupid brain! 

Next Wednesday I only  have to do 5 X 400M in something like 2:14 each.  Only. 

Progressing toward a post-surgery 5K PR at end of April. 

Dark and early...

Up at the usual time, it was of course an hour darker due to Daylight Savings Time.  There was a little sliver of nearly-new moon up just before dawn.  As I began my run, several deer unconcernedly walked up the hill to go to bed -- night shift / morning shift. 

Just to make life more complicated, the parks department has closed my favorite stretch of trail due to landslides.  That shortens my possibilities for hill runs in that direction. 

This morning I went up to the road closure, and did a double loop on another hill to make a total of 4.3 miles with 1700 ft. of climb.  Wheee! 

This makes two weeks (training weeks -- I'm back to thinking of my life as my run schedule from Monday through Sunday) of running four times a week: run Tuesday, Wednesday; weights on Thursday (half an hour of arm and shoulder work with light dumbbells); run Friday and Sunday.  I break it up like this:  short (junk miles / mental health run) on Tuesday, Tempo or Intervals on Wednesday, Moderate time-on-legs run on Friday, and Long Run on Sunday. 

Right now "long" isn't very long.  But progress is progress, and sticking to it is sticking to it. 

Hill Repeats

Sunday afternoon run, 3 February 2013.

6 × 1/4 mile hills* at ~ 2:35 up, 2:05 down, with ~ 30 seconds rest at each end. 

*Gmaps pedometer says 239 ft. of elevation gain per repeat!

I'll be sore tomorrow. . .

But the good news:  sunshine.  Singlet weather!

Train for a purpose

Some people log running miles as a build-up to a race -- a 5K, a half-marathon, or longer.

When that's the case, the focus is on time over distance, or heart rate training, or hill climbing, depending on the type of event chosen as the goal. 

Right now, I have no performance goal.

I want to stay relatively healthy.  Happy, too, if I can.

So it is nice to go out and move in the world with the least possible stress.  No camera.  Not paying any attention to the chrono on the watch.  Just trying to move with a modicum of balance and harmony through the world out there. 

Mental health running.  Soul health running.  That's where I'm at as a runner right now.

Now I know how the moon feels

Sunday afternoon was sunny, and it had been a while since the last rain.  I decided to run fire trails in the local hills because once on top of the ridge, there would be lots of sunshine!  Wheee!  Vitamin D!

It was a lovely afternoon.  A pair of white-tailed kites and a young harrier were working the west slopes of the hills, hunting for early gopher activity.  A happy looking ash-throat flycatcher was stationed on a parks department sign at a trail crossing.  The very earliest of the mustard (or is it coming up from last year's?) is starting to bloom.

It was full sunshine at 2:30-ish when I did the out and back miles along the north-south ridge.  Heading south, my right side was toasty warm and my left side was freezing.  Vice versa on the way back.  Being a weather wimp, I admit I had to stop and turn around for a few moments, more than once. 

I wonder what kind of weird autonomic nervous system responses your body goes through when one surface of the body is so much warmer than the other.  Half my brain: "Happy, happy, sunshine, birdies, flowers, run, run, run..."   Other half of my brain:  "Stop or die! Turn around! Twirl in place! Aaaurgh!"

Resolution Runners

There is a new crop of New-Year's-Resolution runners out on the trails.  The really superior ones start a week or so before New Year's Day so as to feel all exercisier-than-thou next week. 

I can tell by the socks of course.  The beginner balks at laying out $100 +/- for a pair of actual factual running shoes, but particularly shies away from paying $9.50 for a pair of socks! 

But I can also tell by their faces, and responses to my greetings.  There is a look of fear in their faces, and there is no response to my "Hello" or "Happy New Year".  It seems to be fear of being caught in the act of something.  Fear of being recognized.  Recognized as a failure?  Recognized as a running newbie?  As for the response or lack of response, maybe I'm just so funny looking that it takes their breath away.  Maybe they are running too fast and have no breath left to take away.  But I don't even get a wave or a tilt of the head or a smile.  Just a look I call "The Pole-Axed Cow" -- the wide eyes just before the complete collapse.  (To be fair, it is not just newbies that  give me the Pole-Axed Cow look.  I get it from the IronMan guys, the deathly serious out-to-prove-something guys a decade or two younger than me (I'm 55) and still acting out their adolescent pride.)

For all the new runners out there, let me say two things. 

First, it's totally okay if the gear comes later.  When I started running in 2004, it was cotton socks, cheap all-purpose training flats, and cut-offs.  I remember doing the Couch to 5K the first time, that big day of the 20 minute run, in cut-off BDU pants that had cargo pockets and came down to my knees.  Oh, and I carried a digital kitchen timer for those first weeks of timed run / walk intervals (did not have a digital watch at the time)!  So -- gear will come later, and to suit your comfort (and income) level. 

Second, it's okay to respond to greetings by other runners.  Honestly, runners are some of the most welcoming and inclusive people!  Your local group may vary.  Maybe where I am is exceptional.  But I don't think so.  The attitude that says "Only Competitive Runners Allowed" is extremely rare.  Many race directors are or have been very fine competitive runners, and they are happy to see runners of every ability level in the field.  But it's not just race events that will welcome you.  Many runners remember their start too, since we weren't all naturally gifted talents that climbed success upon success from Middle School on.  We're glad you're here.  We hope you'll stay. 

Runners have 52 words for mud

Water soaked soil.  Mire.  Slime.  Muck.  Goo.  Adobe.  

Some people still say the Eskimos have 52 words for snow.  Be that as it may, I'm pretty sure that from autumn through spring, trail runners have about 52 words for mud.  If you include compound words.  And phrases. 

A lot of them take the form of "(expletive-adjective) (expletive-participle) (redacted) mud!" 

Sludge.  Ooze.  Bog.  Slush...

Coyote Bush

Coyote Bush is a large part of our Northern California coastal chaparral.  Here are two views of female Coyote Bush in the process of releasing seeds to the winds.  Pictures taken Saturday, 24 November 2012.  Viewing the ongoing unfolding of life in the natural world is a primary reason I love running trails.