Barriers

We set our barriers in our minds.

I had serious misgivings while driving over to Greenbelt Park to run the Perimeter Trail. There was 3-5 inches of ice and snow on the ground and I expected the already rough trails to be truly impassible. Yet, we thought we'd try and see; if the trails were impossible, then we could always run the park roads. Instead, a wonderful adventure awaited us. Snow tracks told us that only someone on cross country skis, one person on foot with a dog, and a large deer had preceded us along the trail. We had a great, if laborious, time pushing through the snow and ice, admiring the nearly untouched winter landscape following the trail around the park. What I nearly dismissed as not reasonable became an exploration of the park in winter and an adventure beyond a self-limiting, premature, barrier.

As I accumulate miles and years running, the lesson I've learned that I most treasure is that my mind cannot even conceive the limits that I am capabable of attaining.

Sleet

I step out in the predawn darkness and hear crackle all around me. A steady sleet is blanketing the landscape as I begin my run. Each footstep yields a soft crunch as I glide over the ice and slush. My thoughts wander to the owls as I trace my way the the woods. Birds have high metabolic rates. The owls must surely be hunting their furry little prey in this primitive wood. Yet, I hear only the crackle of ice falling, the crunch of ice underfoot, and my breathing.

The ice adheres to the branches of bushes and trees. It accumulates on the brim of my hat. I clear it off. A car passes, its occupant stares at me, bundled, warm, and plump. I will be wet when this 7-miler is done, but I will still be warm because of my layering. I realize that much of what we take for routine comforts are in reality debilitating indulgences. We don't see them as such because they ennervate over the course of years and lifetimes.

I feel close to the rhythm of nature this morning.

Annapolis

Denise's company held its annual company winter party last night in Annapolis. Denise and I are very much morning creatures; instead of facing a drive back to Bowie after the party, we reserved a room at the Annapolis Loew's Hotel across the street from the night club. The evening was pleasant, much wine flowed, and we had the opportunity to walk through an art show, which was also being hosted by the club. At evening's end, we strolled across the street to a warm hotel room rather than drive 25 miles home.

Annapolis is a hub of the running community. The small city has three specialty running stores and is home of the Annapolis Striders, one of the DC area's most active running clubs. In the past, we enjoyed stopping for coffee and breakfast down by the harbor at dawn to enjoy the sights and sounds of the waking running, marina, and civil communities. My interests in observing runners had not waned, even though I had given up the sport decades previously.

That changed this morning. Despite the blustery 15 F weather, we suited up at 7 AM and did our first run though the 350 year old streets of old town Annapolis. It was only 3 miles and we spent much of it talking about our new found interest in trail running. But we finally ran Annapolis, a goal that we've spent years thinking would be fun to do.

Hawthorne

It was another morning worthy of one of Hawthorne's short stories, foggy, gray, wet, and dark. Air and earth are saturated with water and slush. I did 6 miles, all the while waiting to hear a great horned owl, but the fog seemed to suppress all bird activity.

It feels good to move through the gloom.

Transcendence

My long run out on a cold windy morning. I think of food: bacon and cheese omlette, hot chocolate. I wonder how many people are having it for breakfast at that moment in my neighborhood. People drive by in their metal boxes, warm and soft, on their way to church or on breakfast errands. In two or three hours, some will drive by again, returning. Those who know me will smile and wave, those who don't will stare in mutual incomprehension. I run, far away from iPhones, Wee's, XBoxes, and other trinkets that distract and ennervate, but never satisfy. I am far away from Madison Avenue's seduction to want those trinkets; I am far away from Wall Street's greed that inspires their creation.

The cold north-western wind bluster buffets me. Cardinals in the trees twitter morning calls. The robins rustle in the trees above me as I run past. Crows flock and fly east towards the rising sun. A hawk is already screaching in the sky above, hunting for its breakfast. It is long run day dawn: cold, simple, and savage.

I realize that these long runs are acts of transcendence.

Trails

We ran in Greenbelt Park again, along the Perimeter Trail. As we ran along, there was an audible crunch with each footstep sinking into the partially iced snow. This was our first experience of snowy winter forest trails. The woods were serene, barren trees standing in the snow as we two runners glided along the paths easily.

On the down hill portions of the trail, I experimented with just letting go, letting the gravity pull me down at a sprint. I remembered seeing a high school cross country team in Rogue River, Oregon train in a park by the river. The kids would throw themselves with abandon over an embankment, seemingly immune to injury. I thought those days were over for me long ago. Yet, after two years and nearly 3,000 miles of training, I feel strong enough to do just the same. The feeling was exhilarating, coming up on my toes, shortening and quickening my stride, and flying down hill along the snowy trail. Twenty four hours ago, weighted down my stress I regretted a missed run. Today, I celebrated fitness on a cold winter day in a Maryland park.

Weary Again

I overslept an hour and a half this morning, unhappily missing my final 6-miler of the week. The cumulative effects of stressors at work and home, plus the training load wore me down sufficiently by end of week to the point where I needed the sleep more than the training. I will strive to improve management the psychological stress, the physical stress of training is a given.

Jack

Jack Daniels, possibly the most reknown running coach in the world, opines that strength training is just a means to make the athlete stronger so that he can run more injury free. I think my knee issue arose from the cumulative stress of running and the strength training. Not running, I am struggling with the strength training: should I do legs? Looking at the issue strictly clinically, I should remove all possible causes for the issue until I heal completely. First start the running alone, followed by the weight training. My singular goal should be my 40 mile weeks.

But emotion creeps in. I have made such progress in my deadlifts and lunges. The two sets of eight repetitions of lunges that waylaid me a few years ago are completely surpassed now. I am working out with 80 lbs of dumbells when I do my lunges now. I must focus on my goal and not let ego intrude.

No leg work until I'm back at 40 miles per week.....or maybe do a single set!

I thought I'd share a photo of Denise approaching mile 26 at last year's Marine Corps Marathon. Her achievement was appropriately crowned her months of effort to prepare for the event.

Full Stop

Ok, expletive intended......

Damn.

That mild twinge under my upper right knee cap is almost certainly and ITBS warning. So, running's out until its gone. You can't run through ITBS. Better taking 7 days off now, than 7 weeks off later. I really wanted 3 or 4 today but controlled the urge. This is going to be a very challenging week; my running had been going well.

I'll focus on the strength training.

Simple Things

I did 2 3-mile loops this morning just after a soft, light, snow fall. On the second loop, I traced my foot prints. I'm mildly surprised that I toe-out quite as much as I do: maybe as much as 10 degrees. Noakes, in his complete coverage of everything running, actually calculates how much extra a marathoner has to run given toe-out angles. I'll have to look the topic up.

Still, it was fun seeing my foot prints in the freshly fallen snow and realizing I was the only runner out there.

Will

I bent low to pick up my barbells for the year's first set of dead lifts. I am beginning my 6-th year of marathon training. Above, on my squatting cage, 6 marathon completion medals hang over my head. I stare myself in the eyes momentarily and I realize that what I will be at the end of the year is entirely dependent on what I do now.

What I am at year's end is what I will into existence today.

Rest

The culmulative stress of the holidays and a hard tempo run yesterday convinced my body, specially hips, back, and hamstrings, to demand a day off.

So, we went to a great all you can eat breakfast place this morning.

Time to be Camus' Sisyphus tomorrow.

New Beginnings

To celebrate the first day of the year, it was 7.2 for me, 3 at tempo pace. Six consecutive January 1's in mostly bone-chilling weather. This year it was great. I was actually sweating heavily by mile 4.

Last year was all about mentoring Denise to her first marathon. During the year's miles, my sense of "old age" brittleness finally feel away amid all those 35-45 mile weeks. I'm going to try speed this year. G. Washington's Birthday is in 6 weeks; the Blue Ridge Marathon is in mid April. Neither is a place to PR, but both would be great training.

At 9:30 AM while, I was wondering who was still in bed and who was to hung over to get up!