A short jaunt around the neighborhood seemed a good idea. On the drive home, the sun had shone itself. But that was just a tease. By running time, clouds had invaded and the wind picked up a brisker pace than these bare feet.
Leaves have started to blanket Akron in colorful death. Rather than warming those it touches, this blanket chills. Hands tucked inside long sleeves. A head that could use a hat. The cold ground keeps the soles from warming.
Acorns litter the sidewalk. Deft placement vs. painful steps, the contest is a draw. The street circling the park feels warmer and smoother.
Forget the downhill of the outbound portion of the run. It is unnoticeable until the uphill of the return. Finally the feet feel warm. Just in time for home.
Showing posts with label I'm really poetic-like. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I'm really poetic-like. Show all posts
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Race Report: Thank the Hills
The Tallmadge Memorial 5-K was Monday. This was my fourth time running it. Each time has been faster than the last. I gained a second in the chute. I've done extra-long reports on this race. Now, here's an extra-short version in haiku:
7:09
Weave with Martini
Fighting the tight crowd down hill
My fastest first mile?
7:33
Hot and humid now
Slog starting to set in now
Big uphill comes now
7:44 (1.1 miles @ 7:02 pace)
Past the last marker
Pass that kid into the chute
A personal best
The Aftermath
This race gave me faith in the hill training I have been focusing on in the last month or so. In fact, I ran 10 miles on Saturday on a portion of the Buckeye Trail, a very hilly and technical out-and-back that left my legs feeling like jelly afterward. Last year, I started track sessions in March. I haven't stepped on the oval of doom yet this year.
My revised goals turned out to be unnecessary. I picked off my top two original goals, but the rest will have to wait until next time. That is, after all, the great thing about running: There's always more to accomplish.
A new feature to this year's race was a separate start for men and women, which I think was done to thin the herd at this growing, small-town race. It worked out well, and it was neat to be able to cheer for most of the women before the start of my race.
The giveaway shirts were a huge upgrade over last year's hideous golden puke-colored technical T-shirts. Instead we got a fairly attractively designed, blue Asics technical tank top, which I will actually wear. Good job, Ritchie's!
I said this was going to be an extra-short report, but here I am prattling on ...
7:09
Weave with Martini
Fighting the tight crowd down hill
My fastest first mile?
7:33
Hot and humid now
Slog starting to set in now
Big uphill comes now
7:44 (1.1 miles @ 7:02 pace)
Past the last marker
Pass that kid into the chute
A personal best
The Aftermath
This race gave me faith in the hill training I have been focusing on in the last month or so. In fact, I ran 10 miles on Saturday on a portion of the Buckeye Trail, a very hilly and technical out-and-back that left my legs feeling like jelly afterward. Last year, I started track sessions in March. I haven't stepped on the oval of doom yet this year.
My revised goals turned out to be unnecessary. I picked off my top two original goals, but the rest will have to wait until next time. That is, after all, the great thing about running: There's always more to accomplish.
A new feature to this year's race was a separate start for men and women, which I think was done to thin the herd at this growing, small-town race. It worked out well, and it was neat to be able to cheer for most of the women before the start of my race.
The giveaway shirts were a huge upgrade over last year's hideous golden puke-colored technical T-shirts. Instead we got a fairly attractively designed, blue Asics technical tank top, which I will actually wear. Good job, Ritchie's!
I said this was going to be an extra-short report, but here I am prattling on ...
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Four Weeks to Race
Since the Frostbite Prediction Run was canceled and won't be rescheduled, my race season opener will now be next month's Shamrock 15-K. I ran this race for the first time last year and really enjoyed the challenge. However, I now have about four weeks to get my doughy ass into racing shape by March 7.
As I look out my office window, all I see is the White Death and a speeding salt truck's futile attempts to tame this cold bitch who has tied my running shoes together with a Gordian knot. My mileage didn't reach double digits in the last two weeks combined. If I'm going to race in a month, then my running will need a severe ramp-up.
I have been in similar predicaments before when I suddenly realized I had only six weeks to train for the 2008 Cleveland Half Marathon. This time I don't need speedwork. I need hills, lots and lots of hills.
The Shamrock 15-K course descends into the Cuyahoga River valley and then back up with a steep, two-mile climb. There are very few flat areas. My leg strength is lacking.
Here's how we'll do it:
I may also try some actual cross training to deal with this weather. Perhaps a jump rope is in my future.
As I look out my office window, all I see is the White Death and a speeding salt truck's futile attempts to tame this cold bitch who has tied my running shoes together with a Gordian knot. My mileage didn't reach double digits in the last two weeks combined. If I'm going to race in a month, then my running will need a severe ramp-up.
I have been in similar predicaments before when I suddenly realized I had only six weeks to train for the 2008 Cleveland Half Marathon. This time I don't need speedwork. I need hills, lots and lots of hills.
The Shamrock 15-K course descends into the Cuyahoga River valley and then back up with a steep, two-mile climb. There are very few flat areas. My leg strength is lacking.
Here's how we'll do it:
We're gonna run, run, run, run, run
Take a drag or two
Run, run, run, run, run
Gypsy death and you
Tell you what you do
(I'm sorry Lou.)
Take a drag or two
Run, run, run, run, run
Gypsy death and you
Tell you what you do
(I'm sorry Lou.)
I may also try some actual cross training to deal with this weather. Perhaps a jump rope is in my future.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Tricky, Slicky Leaves
The ever-present maples, buckeyes and walnut trees are blocking out less of the typically gray (except for today's) skies. Yes, we have autumn around here, and that's a fact. We of the deciduous trees must now contend with the treachery of fallen leaves.
Just last night, as I was trawling through a hilly neighborhood on a new four-mile route, I planted my stump on a bright orange leaf of no discernible origin (if only I were a dendrologist!), causing my foot to slide dangerously back and to the left. I imagined bits of brain and skull scattered about on the brick paving. Those wet leaves could kill.
Just last night, as I was trawling through a hilly neighborhood on a new four-mile route, I planted my stump on a bright orange leaf of no discernible origin (if only I were a dendrologist!), causing my foot to slide dangerously back and to the left. I imagined bits of brain and skull scattered about on the brick paving. Those wet leaves could kill.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Haiku No. 2: Sockless Solipsism
Pound feet bare inside
Twinge right knee behind
Untapped barrels of knowledge
Twinge right knee behind
Untapped barrels of knowledge
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
What Is this Green Stuff on the Ground?
Last night, I went out for an easy three miles. The temperature was a blissful 55 degrees, and I took the opportunity to wear shorts. I cruised along at an even 10-minute mile pace, covering my usual three-mile neighborhood route. But I saw the strangest thing.
Where many inches of snow had melted and flowed into the storm sewers, there were all these green, rubbery follicles sprouting up from the ground. I felt as if I were in a Walt Whitman poem.
Where many inches of snow had melted and flowed into the storm sewers, there were all these green, rubbery follicles sprouting up from the ground. I felt as if I were in a Walt Whitman poem.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Monday, December 29, 2008
Clearing Away the Dust
Well, I'm back in the Super Webs for a couple days before I break again for the New Year. It has been a wild ride from boozing and running myself into holiday cheer. Not to mention the driving involved to get this party across Northeast Ohio. The ozone above this great state got a little thinner last week.
Christmas Storied
The holiday began on the 23rd with my office party. The last Flashback Friday of the year was written at my desk as usual, but with a dram of homemade Irish creme in my coffee. The first beer was imbibed around 1 p.m.
During our gift exchange, I traded a bottle of wine for two tree ornaments and two small bottles of Courvoisier V.S.O.P. cognac, which will appear later in the story.
By 3 p.m., we had moved the office party down to a local pub for Christmas Ales and gab. Before I left the scene, Ibamboozled convinced my coworkers to join me for A Christmas Story, a perfect recipe for finishing my holiday shopping.
That night was a friend's birthday party (one of those poor Christmas Eve babies). There was some Old Rasputin and a terrible reminder of why no one should ever drink Unicum, ever.
Christmas Eve came and went with a delicious dinner of sushi and an hour's drive north for some presenting, Johnnie Walker Red Label and a very difficult to pour shot of very fine Tequila (the name of which I have forgotten, so it must have been good).
I capped the evening with the first bottle of Courvoisier so that Santa would not find me up past bedtime.
Ah, Christmas morning. My stocking was full with---among other things you'll see below---a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label. Santa, you are too kind.
Later that day and another hour's drive away, I cracked a bottle Rolling Rock for the first and only beer along the way.
After dinner and a drive of an hour and a half, I drank some sparkling red wine from many a carafe.
And somewhere awhile off track was that other bottle of cognac.
But there is one present I'm still waiting for, and it's one that I'm hoping will be at my door.
The gift is one that will keep me in good cheer. Yes, that package of Hibernation Ale will soon be here.
And that will end this lyrical bend.
Sweet New Gear
Someone must have gotten tired of seeing the wax and wain of screw shoes and YakTrax on this blog. In my stocking was a brand new pair of YakTrax Pro. Of course, all the snow melted two days before Christmas so I have yet to test them. However, I was impressed by how easy it was to afix them to my shoes.
Santa also brought me a cool two-toned New Balance tech shirt, which was nice to wear during the 60-degree swelter on Saturday. I probably won't get to don it again until June.
Rounding out the new running ensemble was a nice fly-weight jacket, the Zoot Sports Ultra Ether Jacket. It's totally radical. It holds in the heat (and the sweat) better than a sauna. It repels precipitation like Superman repels bullets. And it can break wind all day without smelling foul.
And thankfully, I did not get a, get a, get a Garmin.
I must have been really good this year.
Slow Progress
My continued quest to break 1,000 miles has been a slow march, but my mountain has been cut in half since my last post. Despite a busy holiday schedule I managed a 22-mile week, knocking out my first 10-miler in two months. The next three days will be a challenge.
Mile Tracker 1,000: 22 miles to go
[Drunkard's note: Yes, Ms. V, regarding your comment, Vermouth is alcohol, a rather distasteful wine unless it's properly hidden with gin or cooked with food.]
Christmas Storied
The holiday began on the 23rd with my office party. The last Flashback Friday of the year was written at my desk as usual, but with a dram of homemade Irish creme in my coffee. The first beer was imbibed around 1 p.m.
During our gift exchange, I traded a bottle of wine for two tree ornaments and two small bottles of Courvoisier V.S.O.P. cognac, which will appear later in the story.
By 3 p.m., we had moved the office party down to a local pub for Christmas Ales and gab. Before I left the scene, I
That night was a friend's birthday party (one of those poor Christmas Eve babies). There was some Old Rasputin and a terrible reminder of why no one should ever drink Unicum, ever.
Christmas Eve came and went with a delicious dinner of sushi and an hour's drive north for some presenting, Johnnie Walker Red Label and a very difficult to pour shot of very fine Tequila (the name of which I have forgotten, so it must have been good).
I capped the evening with the first bottle of Courvoisier so that Santa would not find me up past bedtime.
Ah, Christmas morning. My stocking was full with---among other things you'll see below---a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label. Santa, you are too kind.
Later that day and another hour's drive away, I cracked a bottle Rolling Rock for the first and only beer along the way.
After dinner and a drive of an hour and a half, I drank some sparkling red wine from many a carafe.
And somewhere awhile off track was that other bottle of cognac.
But there is one present I'm still waiting for, and it's one that I'm hoping will be at my door.
The gift is one that will keep me in good cheer. Yes, that package of Hibernation Ale will soon be here.
And that will end this lyrical bend.
Sweet New Gear
Someone must have gotten tired of seeing the wax and wain of screw shoes and YakTrax on this blog. In my stocking was a brand new pair of YakTrax Pro. Of course, all the snow melted two days before Christmas so I have yet to test them. However, I was impressed by how easy it was to afix them to my shoes.
Santa also brought me a cool two-toned New Balance tech shirt, which was nice to wear during the 60-degree swelter on Saturday. I probably won't get to don it again until June.
Rounding out the new running ensemble was a nice fly-weight jacket, the Zoot Sports Ultra Ether Jacket. It's totally radical. It holds in the heat (and the sweat) better than a sauna. It repels precipitation like Superman repels bullets. And it can break wind all day without smelling foul.
And thankfully, I did not get a, get a, get a Garmin.
I must have been really good this year.
Slow Progress
My continued quest to break 1,000 miles has been a slow march, but my mountain has been cut in half since my last post. Despite a busy holiday schedule I managed a 22-mile week, knocking out my first 10-miler in two months. The next three days will be a challenge.
Mile Tracker 1,000: 22 miles to go
[Drunkard's note: Yes, Ms. V, regarding your comment, Vermouth is alcohol, a rather distasteful wine unless it's properly hidden with gin or cooked with food.]
Monday, February 11, 2008
This Wasted Land
No, T.S., Ffff-February is the cr-cr-cruelest month, chattering
Jaw teeth out of my head, hands numbing
At joints, knuckles and tips, fumbling
Frigid at type keys.
Winter fooled us good, warming
January's end with Springtime
Thaw, awash with forgetful snow
Wet streets and paths for running ...
As I sit here in my freezing office, where the heat went dead at some point today, it is 9 degrees outside. The wind chill is somewhere around frostbite. My fingers and toes have not warmed up since marching to my car this morning in the snow. By tomorrow, we're supposed to get 6-10 more inches. But it's not supposed to be as cold. That's a relief.
I fumbled my running this weekend. A Friday night trip to Blackout Island had me under covers for most of a fine Saturday. Sunday, the temperature dropped to single digits and the wind picked up. I had a fleeting notion to go for a run, but then my windows shuddered in the gust of a 20 mph wind. I decided to take a rest day. I looked outside and saw only white.
I know this happens every year. One last cruel blow from Old Man Winter. And then white turns to brown turns to green. The chronic overcast skies will soon part for blues. This is whiskey drinking weather, friends, not a time for lacing up shoes.
Jaw teeth out of my head, hands numbing
At joints, knuckles and tips, fumbling
Frigid at type keys.
Winter fooled us good, warming
January's end with Springtime
Thaw, awash with forgetful snow
Wet streets and paths for running ...
As I sit here in my freezing office, where the heat went dead at some point today, it is 9 degrees outside. The wind chill is somewhere around frostbite. My fingers and toes have not warmed up since marching to my car this morning in the snow. By tomorrow, we're supposed to get 6-10 more inches. But it's not supposed to be as cold. That's a relief.
I fumbled my running this weekend. A Friday night trip to Blackout Island had me under covers for most of a fine Saturday. Sunday, the temperature dropped to single digits and the wind picked up. I had a fleeting notion to go for a run, but then my windows shuddered in the gust of a 20 mph wind. I decided to take a rest day. I looked outside and saw only white.
I know this happens every year. One last cruel blow from Old Man Winter. And then white turns to brown turns to green. The chronic overcast skies will soon part for blues. This is whiskey drinking weather, friends, not a time for lacing up shoes.
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