Il Est Bon!

I was talking to a guy I work with yesterday morning who has recently decided he was going to take his running a little more seriously this year. As we were talking he mentioned that he gets up at 5:00am and by 5:15 he is out the door and is happily on his way down the street. Naturally, the conversation then turns to me and I reply, I usually get up between 4:00am and 4:30am, at which he exclaimed "wow, no wonder you can run so much!" Chuckling, I told him I'm not out the door until 5:30am. So now, he thinks I am stretching and doing some kind of other pre-running fitness routine...

I do have a routine that I follow each morning when I wake at the crack of dawn and it is vital to my morning runs, when I run in the morning, I have been fortunate these past 5-6 weeks to be able to run in the sunlight, even though my legs are still rather a whiter shade of pale. As I stumble out of bed, grabbing my hoodie-sweatshirt, I have one, single track objective, as I stroll past the bathroom (that little business can wait a minute) into the kitchen and open the cupboard to feast my eyes upon my choices of beautiful little black beans to be grind and brewed. Shall it be Italian? Molto bene! Maybe a Kenyan roast? Maisah marefu! Or my personal favorite, a rich dark, earthy French Roast? Il est bon!!! Oui, oui! Ahhh, the sweet aroma of the nectar of the gods! Gleefully, I do a little jig as the steamy brew fills the kitchen air, anticipating that first glorious sip, with just a touch of cream...my poor middle aged tummy is finding it a little hard to drink it straight these days. Joyfully, my fingers do their little tap dance around the warming porcelain vessel in which my lips quiver in passionate suspense for that initial moment of pure liquid ecstasy of the maiden sip of the new dawn. Ahhhh, il est bon, il est bon...

When one is carrying out a love affair, it should never be in haste! As I sit in the stillness, wrapping my precious love in my ever so gentle embrace, I savor the moment, allowing my lips every few moments to taste the tenderness of the warmth of her love for me. And being French, well, she does know how to love me!!! My Italian lover is a little more sassy and my Kenyan, well, she makes me dream of wild, far off adventures. But alas, the cup is empty, our fling is over, however, my other lover, she is over in the corner waiting to be "tied up."

So it is time to lace up, head out the door and run some miles! As always, stay healthy, keep running, and enjoy a rich dark roast cup of love.

Fog

One of the drawbacks of living in the central San Joaquin Valley is the tule fog that engulfs us every winter from late November to early February. We even have a local race appropriately named the Tule Fog Run. Most of the fog season it never gets too bad, but the last couple of days has been unreal! I literally cannot see more than 3-4 feet in front of me, which is rather frightening, considering that when I cross streets, if I can't see that far going as slow as I do, then how can a car traveling much faster than I am, see me? Common sense forces me then to run on the local trail and canals, which makes the run really interesting.

Normally I love running on the soft surfaces of the side of the Santa Fe trail, the hard packed dirt of all the local canals and dirt farm roads between fields. However, when you can't see beyond the reach of your hand, things get a little, shall we say, spooky. One of the effects of a thick blanket of tule fog is that it muffles all the surrounding sounds and intensifies your own contribution to the audible world around you. So as I glide along in the dark gray haze of my own personal "Twilight Zone," (I expect the ghost of Rod Sterling to pop out with his cigarette at any moment!) my mind registers every little crack, thump, and muffled footstep at a 120 decibels. Thus, my heart begins to race at twice its normal speed as my brain matter tries to decipher if the thudding of the crisp dew laden leaves is from my own pedestrian effort or that of some ravenous rabid rodent?! Seriously, you should see the size of the opossums we have around here? I swear they must eat small dogs, sheep and wandering gypsy children. Therefore I fling myself into the moist sunless morning, praying that I will make it out alive. It is mornings like these that I wonder, "would it not just be better to pour another cup of coffee?" But alas, my mistress calls.

Out the door I go. As always, stay healthy, keep running, and if you see Rod Sterling, know that you have crossed over through space and time and are now in a dimension, known as, the Running Zone.

Running on Empty

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields
In sixty-five I was seventeen and running up one-o-one
I don't know where I'm running now, I'm just running on
"Running on Empty" by Jackson Browne

I can't say I was 17 in '65, although, I was 17 for a short while in '85, but lately I find myself looking back at the nearly 30 years that I have spent in this sport and I still see that 17 year old kid, full of wonder and potential, out soaking up the sun, running the same canals, dirt roads and even the same track that I do today. The bushy hairdo is long gone, the shorts longer, and the socks shorter, but that starry-eyed dreamer is still out there. Just like over 25 years ago, each day is an adventure that is just waiting to unfold and each run offers up a new opportunity to succeed or if the running gods see fit, a setback. Some days I feel 17 again and others, like today, I am sore and tired and it feels like I am running on empty. But, I know I need to keep running on. So as I click off Jackson, lace up and head out the door, I'm not too sure where I'll be running, but I do know, I am still running on!

So if you tempt me with your kindness, just know I can't stick around as I am running on. Stay healthy and keep running on.

Nightmare on Channel Drive

Uggh. I woke up in a pool of my own sweat again! My heart pounding, trying to jump out my throat! Wildly glaring into the darkness of the early morning stillness I had to remind myself it was only a dream. It was only a dream. However, it was a dream that is occurring more frequently lately and one I have not had since the early 90's when I was running in college. And no, it was not my running around town in my tighty-whities giving everyone a thumbs up as I grin mischievously at them dream. It was the "Nightmare."

I first remember having the nightmare in the fall of 1990. It was my break-out year of my college career and I was enjoying a great season of pr's and success as our team marched forward to our first and only appearance at the NCAA's in cross country. As a leader and the number two guy on our team, I felt a great responsibility to show up and give 110% at work-outs, long runs and races. I had made up my mind that nobody was going to work harder, cheer louder, or want our team to succeed more than I was. Hence, I do believe that this is what formulated the dark demons in the back of my mind to concoct the hideous dream that would haunt me several nights a week for the next 2-3 years.

It always started the same, I would be out running in tranquil peace along Channel Drive in Annadel State Park in Santa Rosa. The deer were prancing, the fluffy bunnies bounding along playfully, and the birds singing in the glorious sun-filled dawn as I scamper along playfully enjoying the promise of the new day. Then as I turn onto the trail to head up the long path up to the lake I notice that the loose gravel is little more difficult to navigate and my pace begins to slow, my Nikes sinking further and further into the adobe clay! As the trees begin to close in on me I could feel their crusty tentacles reach for me as the incline of the trail grows steeper with each stride. In a moment of panic I break free of the treeline to find the trail racing up the side of the mountain. Where did this mountain come from?!!! There is no mountain here! But onward I try to run. The incline has become so steep that I can walk faster than I can run as my quads burn with the liquid fire of lactic acid and the pounding of the blood coursing through my veins screams for release. As the saline sea pours from every crevice of my body, I am drenched in my own body fluid as the trail has reduced me to a crawl on my hands and knees. Why am I crawling? I am a runner. But crawl I must to reach the summit as it slowly comes into view and yet...as I reach for the top, I topple backwards, falling into the abyss in silence, except for the wretched beating of my athletic heart!

Waking, I rise up in bed to stare into the darkness, my heart pounding, sweat soaked sheets kicked from the bed, it was only a dream. My wife is unaware of the terror I just experienced as she lies peacefully in her own dream world. After nearly twenty years, why has the nightmare returned? Is it because I care again about giving 110%? Am I having some kind of runner's mid-life crisis? Have the running demons in the back of my head been awakened after lying dormant for two decades to once again wreck havoc on my athletic psyche? Perhaps I will never know. But the morning calls. Time to lace up and head out for the morning run. And perhaps I might turn upon a trail that leads up a hill, I will reach the top.

As always, stay healthy, keep running and remember, it was only a dream!

Naked Quarters and Fartleks

I know the title sounds like a bad college drinking game, but this week was a return to a normal training cycle that included for the first time in eons, a track work-out and a fartlek session. For those who are unfamiliar with the word fartlek, it has nothing to do with the human exhaust system blowing out biofuel! It is a Swedish word that literally means "speed play." The only problem is that it did not seem like I was playing.

I am ecstatic that I was able to get to the track and attempt to turn the ol gray knobby knees over at a quick pace, however, oh man, I don't remember it taking so much effort! And to be honest, the first two 400s I wore my watch, but as soon as I saw the pace, I gasped in horror and stripped the filthy liar from my wrist! How dare it say that I run so slow. To avoid the cruel humiliation that this digital keeper of time would mock me with, I decided it would be best to plunge forward with a focus on form and effort and banish it from my flesh. Although, the damage was done. The smirk of the clock lingered in the dark corners of my mind and at the end of each repeat would whisper "you have slowed down, old man." Trudging on naked, I tried to keep in mind to take it for what it was, a first work-out.

With Monday's work out still haunting me on Wednesday, I decided there was no way I was going to let it by my defining moment of this week's training so I decided a little Swedish speed play would be just the remedy. Free of the rigid parameters of the 400 meter chevron squirrel cage, I was free to frolic at will for the predetermined time frame. However, I forgot to keep in mind that my athletes are over twenty years younger and discovered that they too, like a little Swedish speed play. As we flew along it was all fun and games. That was until the next morning.

I'm having a little trouble walking. I didn't know my legs could be so stiff. I didn't even know I had muscles in my toes that could have spasms. Have you ever looked down to see you pinky toe twitch? It is a little unsettling. But the weirdest thing of all, I am actually feeling pretty darn good. I got out and put in two good work-outs, a long run and have kept the streak alive! Each rigid step is a reminder that I am still a runner and I am on my way to my goal in July. I'm just hoping I will regain the feeling below my naval again in the next few days.

As always, stay healthy, keep running, and add a little Swedish speed play to your running days!