Adventures in Inclement Weather

Monday, I bailed on my fearful night run because the temperature dropped into the shorts of a well digger. Last night, sleet splattered my windshield just an hour after my rescheduled six-miler. This morning, the temperature was 50 degrees and rainy. There is a high wind warning in effect. By this evening, the temperature is supposed to drop into the 20s. Just another week in Northeast Ohio weather.

I could follow the pattern I already set this week by delaying tonight's planned outing by a day, but tomorrow is supposed to be even worse weather-wise. At this time of year, you have to be flexible and pick your poison. My choices are 32 degrees with wind and snow tonight or 19 degrees and snow tomorrow night.

I have yet to really bundle up on a run. The Enthusiast recently bought me a pair of Champion C9 tights from Target, and these have kept me plenty warm so far. Most runs have required only a hat, my $3 cotton mechanics' gloves, long-sleeve tech shirt, my fancy ultra lightweight windbreaker, sometimes my vest, the tights and a pair shorts to break the wind around my nether regions. However, I fear that additional layers will soon be necessary.

And to think, it's not even winter yet.

Adios to Anonymous Comments

Just an FYI to those of you who like to comment without an identity. I have upped the comment moderation here at Team BHI HQ. I've been getting a nasty bunch of spam comments lately, and I'm sick of it. If you'd like to comment, get yourself proper credentials. I apologize if that puts a crimp in your Interweb stylez. Cheers!

The Only Thing We Have to Fear

On this day, it seems another Franklin Roosevelt quotation would be more apropos, but fuck it -- this is my blog.

When I run in Sand Run after work, my biggest fear is not the murderers and rapists that some people warn me about, but the wildlife. As I plod through the darkness, I keep my eyes impossibly wide to ensure that I will catch glimpse of the frozen shadow of a deer before my presence spooks it into dashing into my running path and goring me between the third and fourth ribs. I listen for the chipmunks and squirrels and coyotes skittering about so that I don't trip over them. Forewarned is forearmed, unlike Pearl Harbor.

However, the only animals I tend to see are other humans with the occasional dog on a leash. It seems I only actually see non-domesticated animals in the full light of day, like on Sunday when I spied four dear crossing Sand Run Creek while out for my eight-miler.

These deer were nothing to fear. They were slowly entering the water, as I strode by on the path. Chances are that was as scary as it will get. But that probably won't stop me from keeping a watchful eye on the frozen shadows tonight. Usually, it's just a tree.

I would have made this post about the statistical unlikelihood of encountering doom while on the run, but that would have required tedious research. Besides, Dean at Zero to Boston and Jess at 21 Days have already done a fine job of composing such scientific-sounding posts.

Flashback Friday: Sit and Spin, Readers

Yeah, you heard me. Sit. And spin. And while you're at it, take a nice long walk off a short pier. All of you who gave me shit for delaying a run should take a look in the mirror. (Yes, that means you, you and you.) I read your blogs. I know you sometimes just don't feel like running, whether it's because the sky is pouring down rain or because you're crabby that you didn't get a lollipop at the doctor's office.

Sometimes we all say, fuck it. And that's OK.

Don't act all high and mighty on me when I cop to an excuse for putting off my run. Guess what? I ran last night, and I'm back on schedule for this week's mileage goal. Shove that in your collective pie hole.

Back Talk
Wherein one of you actually appreciates all the things I do for you.

Mr. Loser pays attention to all the exciting items along the right side of this blog: "Two thumbs up for the new blogs of woe sidebar. I'm hoping the Brownies don't lose the #1 pick by winning a couple games. We need to blow the draft like we always do: by picking the wrong player on draft day."

Answer: The Browns will most certainly blow the draft by picking a quarterback who will get destroyed because the offensive line can't block on the right side.

As for other items of interest on my blog, you may want to scroll down and see my PRs in the "Fastest Stumblings" section or read about my most recent races in "Latest Stumblings." Better yet, you might want to get the hell away from this blog by doing as Mr. Loser has done and explore my reading recommendations, such as "Blogging is Overrated," where most of my fellow BHI teammates are; "Share Cleveland's Sporting Woes," with local sports blogs on the Browns, Indians and Cavs (the only unwoeful team in Cleveland at present); and below that "When All Else Fails, Pick the Banjer," which is a listing of banjo-centric blogs and sites. And of course, I have some words of wisdom, but that's way down at the bottom.

Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and Drink well. Cheers!

I'd Rather it Snowed

Last night, I bared my rump to my hubris and dared it bite. I mentally prepared for a drenching six-miler all day at work, but the rain washed away all that motivation as I drove home from the office. It was one of those incessant autumn downpours that could turn to sleet at any moment. I'd much rather run in the snow. When I did get home, I had already talked myself into playing my banjo instead. How's that for an excuse, Salty?

Retackling 1,000 Miles

Last year, one of my running goals was to run 1,000 miles, which I done did, logging my 1,000th mile on the final day of the year. You all remember when I freaked out about my mileage this time last year. December 2008 arrived when I still needed to run 116 miles to reach my goal.

Sorry, but this year's quest to top 1,000 miles won't be quite as dramatic. Here we are again on the first day of December, but this time I'm only 58 miles from my goal--exactly half as many miles as last year. All I need to do is run 14.5 miles per week. Hell, I don't even need to match November's output. Easy as eating pie! Who wants to see if this hubris bites me in the ass?

Here is November's statistical rundown:

• Total Miles: 72 miles (15 runs)
• Highest Weekly: 21 miles
  
• Average Weekly: 18 miles
  
• Average Pace: 9:34.25 per mile
  
• Longest/Fastest Run: 8 miles, 8:20 pace
  
• The Monthly Dif: +22 miles (50 miles in October)

Check out that Dif! I'm back on the horse. Maybe I just needed October to recuperate from the marathon.

One of Those Recap Posts That You Skim Over and Leave a Comment like 'Sounds Fun'

UPDATED: 10:34 a.m. on 12/2/09

Let's not talk about the extra baggage apparent in this morning's weight check, but instead consider how the 21 miles I ran from Thursday to Sunday did not counteract the foods and beverages I packed in over that same period.

Thursday: The Enthusiast and I ran three miles together and then I tacked on another four miles before we went to eat.
Miles: 7
Menu: Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, Brussels sprouts with pancetta, pecan pie with Cool Whip, Laphroaig, Great Lakes Christmas Ale

Friday: A six-miler before a "friends Thanksgiving."
Miles: 6
Menu: More turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, salad, cupcake, Bell's Sparkling Ale, Great Divide Hibernation Ale

[Drunkard's note: Apparently, I was too drunk to recall that I also had some Peanut Butter Cup Coffee Porter from Willoughby Brewing Co.]

Saturday: Friends over for dinner, but no running because I wanted to play my banjo instead.
Miles: Does old-time banjo count as cross training?
Menu: Roasted chicken, artichokes, potatoes, salad, German chocolate cake, Hibernation Ale, Sparkling Ale, Great Lakes Edmund Fitzgerald

Sunday: First longish run in ages before a birthday celebration with cake and dinner with leftover pie.
Miles: 8
Menu: Deli sandwiches, various appetizers, birthday cake, pork tenderloin, potatoes, peas (ick!) with mushrooms (yum!), pecan pie with Cool Whip, Laphroaig

I guess I don't need to concentrate on adding winter weight.

Flashback Friday: Mailed in from the Depths of a Tryptophan Induced Food Coma

Warning, do not look at your scale today. The damage you did yesterday will takes days to fix. Move along. This calls for a liquid lunch. Here, Scotchy-Scotchy! Scotch, here ...

Back Talk
Wherein a short week calls for a short Q and A installment.

Morgan wonders if it's Pillsbury cookie dough that I feel like: "Does that mean if I poke your stomach you will giggle?"

Answer: If you poked my stomach, you'd get puked upon. And then punched.

Happy Hour lasts all day today, teammates. Enjoy your long weekends and long runs and long drinking shits. Run well and drink well. Cheers!

Turkey Huntin'

'He Double Gobbled'
Go on and get you a turkey!


[Drunkard's note: From the 1981 documentary Vernon, Florida by Errol Morris.]

Happy Turkey Trotting, teammates. Gobble, gobble!

Belly Stretching

Tomorrow is my favorite holiday. Gather ye loved ones and liquor. Nothing feels quite as merry as Thanksgiving. Friends in from out of town. Family gathered to feast. The kitchen aromas tantalizing your nose. Beverages in hand. Football teams I don't care about playing games that actually appear competitive in comparison to the Cleveland Browns. It is a perfect day. Perfect, except for the snow in the forecast, that is.

You must have a powerful hunger and a mighty thirst if you intend on making this holiday a success. Your belly must be well stretched, yet you must burn off the calories you take in during the stretching process to ensure a proper appetite.

Today, eat a hearty lunch and dinner, and go for a moderately long run. Then, tomorrow morning, eat a small breakfast (try oatmeal) and go for a short run. If you do nothing after your run until the time the bird is served, you'll be ravenous. That's where your trusted beverologist comes into play. The perfect aperitif will stave off the hunger pangs without taking up valuable bowel space, allowing you to perform up to your consumptive abilities come feeding time.

I find that a crisp white wine does wonders while I'm waiting for the dinner bell. You may find that a light cocktail or a bold beer does the trick for you. Regardless of your flavor, enjoy your holiday. Except for you foreigners, no turkey for you.