Bringing Heat on a Frosty Morning

I woke up late this morning and decided to cut the 5-miler I’ve been doing lately to a 4-miler. I give myself roughly 10 minutes per mile, for morning rush sake, making sure to be home [or close to it] by 6:15AM to cool down and come back in the house by 6:30 and start my day [read” “feed my fake fish and play Mafia Wars”].

As I approached the mile and a half mark, a voice whispered to me underneath the nice cap my friend La Tortuga had knitted.

'Look at your watch”

12:30-ish and that included a brief stop for a “Hail Mary” at the statue of the Blessed Mother in front of our church right at one mile.

“Hey” the voice said almost seductively “You’re running late anyway. Why don’t you make a right here at the railroad crossing, cut it short another mile, to just three and … um … while you’re at it … put the hammer down? Let’s see what we can do”

I careful trotted up and over RR crossing and leaned right. I apologized to my friends – the ducks, geese and chickens at the farm down by the lake that I usually pass in the mornings – that I wouldn’t be seeing them today.

I cruised in and out of pockets of orange where the sparse streetlights lit the road, onto brighter surroundings as I approached “The “Main Drag,” such as it is [clockwise from my left: a candy store, a sports/fishing gear shop, a tattoo shop, Atco Ave, a crafts/sewing shop, mini-Library, Firehouse, a dance school, a carpet store, and a liquor store; on the other side of the railroad tracks: an auto supply shop and a body shop across the street from that]

At 2 miles, I was at about 16 minutes. Another 8½ [my usual pace] would bring me in around 24:30; not bad at all, going under 25 would sure be nice. I put “Downtown” behind me and threw a little more coal on the fire. I wasn’t straining, not breathing hard in the cold, frosty stillness; the wheels were turning over just fine [maybe a little confused, is all]

I was in a groove, for sure.

As I made the turn to head back home I made an important observation and a possible strategic error: I had a stoplight between me and the finish. If I got caught on the wrong side of a red light and [now on the other side of 6AM where the traffic starts to pick up] my “time trial” could be screwed.

‘Oh well, ‘ I thought, ‘best not think about that, just yet.’

One thing about running in the dark; it’s hard to pace yourself. I generally keep pace by the Team Tania blinky on my back: if it’s not moving = too slow; bouncing all over = too fast. I put it in a firm but even rhythm as I rushed to the Pike.

Green turned to amber, which turned to red shortly thereafter. Then, back to green.

Twenty yards or so from Dominos, it went amber. I slowed as it went red. Fortunately, there were only five cars waiting [two westbound and three eastbound], and none coming that I couldn’t beat across the street.

I nodded for them to go, crossed and began my final approach; a gentle decline, past some townhouses, a vacant field and a junkyard.

The Public School kids were already waiting for their bus as I returned to our development.

‘Okay, make it look good’ I advised myself. With a surprise, I reached for another gear and I found a … um, what’s it called … when you run REAL fast at the end … Oh yeah!!! A “Kick!!!” That's it!!! I had a Kick!!!

I barreled over the rise at the top of my street and back down to the end of my driveway.

DONE!!!

I stopped my watch.

23:48

Now, I WAS breathing hard. Puffy clouds of exertion floated around my head; a sweaty mist rose from my fleece sweatshirt. I unzipped my collars [yeah, BOTH of them], rolled up my sleeves and took off my hat. I scratched my head partially from amazement but most mostly because, as soft as the wool was, it was still kind of itchy. The sweaty shag on my noggin froze instantly into icy punk-rock spikes.

“Dude” I said to myself, “You haven’t changed a bit. You’ve still got it”

RunningAHEAD

Okay ... All I did was ride Donna's bike around the block a couple of times, after I fortified her tire to remedy this persistent flatting problem she's been having [Slime is fine, and will get you home; but I’m hoping that a silicone + nylon liner helps her even more]

The point is ... Yes! I HAVE set up a RunningAHEAD Training Log in Facebook ... That MUST be some sign of the Apocalypse, shouldn't it??? Maybe I'm accelerating the whole "Hell Freezing Over" thing and perhaps the Eagles could win a Super Bowl. Whatever it takes!!!

So far I ‘m only using the “Lite” version that comes bundled into Facebook. If things should change – such as the unlikely event that I might actually race this year and perhaps train seriously for such an event – that will suit my needs. It’s probably even more than I need since somehow it calculates my VO2 Max [how? I have no clue!!! I though you could only do that at a Sports Medicine facility]

My friends might also give me some grief as it announces my pace for my workouts. RunningAHEAD is kind enough to publish that I “5 miles at 8:36 mile pace” for all to see. I’m sure someone’s gonna say “But Rand! That route is 5 point TWO miles … you’re even quicker than that!!!”

Nah, that’s okay … If I can run about 5 miles in about 40-45 minutes? I’m fine with that. Y’all can leave the details and decimal points for race day … whenever that will be. In the meantime, I’ll keep jogging around at dawn, or earlier, or whenever I can, trying to do just a little better than the day before.

Deep Time

Deep time is the concept of geologic time first recognized in the 11th century by the Persian geologist and polymath, Avicenna (Ibn Sina, 973–1037, and the Chinese naturalist and polymath Shen Kuo (1031–1095). In Europe, the modern scientific concept was developed in the 1700s by Scottish geologist James Hutton (1726–1797).

An understanding of geologic history and the concomitant history of life requires a comprehension of time which initially may be more than disconcerting. As mathematician John Playfair, one of Hutton's friends and colleagues in the Scottish Enlightenment, later remarked upon seeing the strata of the angular unconformity at Siccar Point with Hutton and James Hall in June 1788, "the mind seemed to grow giddy by looking so far into the abyss of time."

With the addition of a couple new Friends on Facebook, I now have a continuous string of acquaintances that runs from when I was about 5 and had recently moved to Connecticut, to the present. I have “curated” people from elementary school up there, to Middle and High School here in Jersey, my brief stay in College, Art School, bar life in Philly and most of my employment history.

Granted there are still some gaps, mostly in my memory or accounting of my timeline, but it still quite a stretch. Plus, I now finally have people that can corroborate some of my “tall tales”

The furthest down the line, I found after the oddest turn. I friended someone from Art School on Facebook and was looking at her friends list [in search of an ex-girlfriend, of course], when I saw a name I never thought I’d find. His first name is the same as mine and he had a very unusual last name, making for a unique combination. Yet, this person lived in California and my Art School friend was from Jenkintown then and now lived out by Allentown.

Two questions came to mind:
1) Is this the same person I knew from my kidhood?
2) How could they POSSIBLY know each other?

The first answer came pretty easily. I asked this person “Did you used to live in Connecticut? Did your Dad work at such-and-such? Did your parents play Bridge by any chance?”

Sure enough!!! Yes, yes and yes. Not only that but his mom and MY mom have the same first name as we do [a pair of Randy’s + a pair of Nancy’s]

Then we pieced Part Two together.

Apparently, his family moved to West Chester about the same time we moved here. As luck would have it, my friend Terri lived down the street from him. Fate took its course; she and I met in Art School.

Then there was ... well. I would say “Missing Link” as she’s not really a link to anything. Although, I did begin doing triathlons in the off chance I’d run into her some time.

Karen Smyers (born September 1, 1961 in Corry, Pennsylvania) is a triathlete from the United States, who won the inaugural women's triathlon at the 1995 Pan American Games in Mar del Plata (1995). She grew up in Wethersfield, Connecticut, in an athletic family of seven children and one cousin that lived with them. She joined her older siblings on the town swim team at age eight.

Known for being an Ironman World Champion, Karen is also known for overcoming her setbacks.
- A bike accident leaving her with a broken collarbone.
- A collision with an 18-wheeler truck leaving her with broken ribs and multiple lung contusions.
- An accident with a storm window that severed her hamstring
- She was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and survived
- Suffering a miscarriage and still being able to compete in the world championships three weeks later

I sent her a friend request on a whim, thinking that no “Legend” would possibly have the time or the interest in a BOPer like me. I was moderately shocked when she accepted. I was now in the company of Scott Tinley, Chris McCormack, Greg Welch [another vertically-challenged retired triathlete LOL], Simon Lessing, Carol Montgomery ...

"I asked myself, 'Self? How did I get here?'”

'Roid Rage???

There were a couple of domestic management mishaps around the house last week that were met with an unusual reaction, especially coming from me.

Never mind what they were exactly, but each would have normally sent me into a howling rage. You see, I’ve always had massive anger management issues. In fact, it was my temper, adrenalized might and unwillingness to back down from a fight, which prompted my best friend in high school to take up martial arts – his dad was tired of this little skatepunk going ape-shit on his kid and giving him a pretty good beating before he ran out of gas; usually over nothing significant.

Ken learned well, and has done alright for himself in the years since.

Anyway …

So, instead of blowing my stack, flying off the handle, yelling, screaming, blaming and carrying on; I calmly said, “Well there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

What prompted this change in behavior???

I’d like to say that running has brought me a new, passive and reflective attitude, with less worries and strife; but that’s not it … at least I don’t think so.

It’s hormones … specifically, the LACK of hormones.

It occurred to me that we hadn’t had red meat in the house for about a month. I made a roast beef at the beginning of November, but that was the last time I could recall having anything beefy in quite some time.

If someone had told me “No red meat for a month” I would have naturally resisted. “You can’t tell ME what to eat and what NOT to!!!” Since the change was voluntary and apparently subconscious, I have no one to argue with.

I really don’t feel like arguing anyway.

I’m saying that I’m giving up cow for good either … just cutting way, WAY back. Besides, I would REALLY like to make this:

Beef and Barley Stew with Stout – from Culinary Competitor

There are few things that take the edge off a cold winter training session like returning home to a bowl of hot beef stew with stout. This stew's primary carbohydrate sources are the yams and pearled barley. Yams are particularly high in vitamin C, and have respectable amounts of potassium and vitamin B6.

Stew beef is generally taken from less desirable cuts of meat--which here is a good thing. "Less desirable" cuts are often leaner, which in the case of a slow-cooked meal is a non-issue as the meat will be plenty tender and full of flavor. It is very important for athletes to maintain iron levels, especially during the winter months when training miles can be pretty big, and the occasional serving of red meat is a great way to do so.

I love to cook a double batch of this beef stew on a Friday night (then I can drink a few of the stouts that go into making it in the process....), and round up the boys after a big day on Saturday to eat all the leftovers. My stout of choice for this stew is North Coast Brewery's Old Rasputin. Only sold in 4-packs (it is questionable as to whether any human being could even consume 6 Rasputins...), this beer redefines stout as most of us know it. If you can get your hands on some Old Rasputins--you will not be disappointed.

Ingredients:
1 ¼ lb lean stew beef, trimmed and cut into one inch cubes
1 large yam, cubed
1 medium celery root, peeled and cubed
½ cup pearled barley
1 yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 T fresh ginger, minced
8 cups beef broth
12 oz stout beer
2 T flour
2 T olive oil
¼ t cinnamon
¼ t allspice
1/8 t cumin
salt and pepper

Instructions:
Makes 4 servings.
Prep time: 15 minutes
Cook time: 1 hour

Heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a large pot over medium high heat. Add the cubed beef to the olive oil to brown and season with salt and pepper. Cook for eight to ten minutes, until browned on all sides, and remove with a slotted spoon, reserving juices. Set aside.

Add the onion, garlic, celery root, and ginger to the pot over a medium-low flame and cook for eight to ten minutes. Add the flour and stir to form a pasty consistency. Add the stout, bring to a low simmer, and cook for about eight minutes until reduced to about 1/3 the original volume. Add the cinnamon, allspice, and cumin; stirring to combine. Add the beef broth and barley, then return the browned beef to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a low simmer and cover. Simmer covered for about one hour, then add the cubed yams and cook just until soft, about fifteen minutes.

****

Yeah, I could pass on the abstinence for a day [plus however long the leftovers (leftovers???) would last]

Alice's Restaurant Massacree Virtual 25K - Results

"I’m looking at 48 hours and change, if I go out first thing Thursday, Friday and Saturday mornings.

“I have a couple of five-mile routes I can use, plus a six-miler/10K and a pair of fours as well, just to keep it fun and not too repetitive. [All distances are appropriately approximate <wink>]”

That was The Plan, anyway.

D’Wife got her schedule changed so she would start early on Thanksgiving [7:30AM] to get out at 3:00, so getting out and back on Thursday morning was off, right from the get-go.

I took D’Kid out for a 45-minute bike ride around 2PM instead then finished making “a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn’t be beat.”

Friday, D’Wife had her regular shift, so getting some miles in before she and D’Kid got up wasn’t going to be a problem. The sun was on its way up when I left the house at 6:45; it was odd not needing to wear a reflecto-vest or blinkie light on a morning run. I figured I had just enough time to do 5 miles before D'Girls started stirring. As usual, I didn’t decide which route I’d take when I left the house; I’d make that call further down the road – literally. After taking the climb past the cemetery, I trotted out to the end of the road. I was on the right-hand side already, so I turned right [yeah, that’s the kind of decision making I’m known for; I’ve also flipped a coin or done “evens-odds: even we go right / odd we go left.”

I’ve been running this particular route on Saturday afternoons lately, so I was kinda surprised by how many people had chickens in their yards, judging by the morning crowing of the roosters in that section of town.

I made an adjustment to my route on the section between the 3½- and 4-mile mark; there is a rise here as the road climbs past a swamp. There are guardrails on either side, but the left-hand is oddly cambered and has been giving me trouble, so I ran on the right. Unfortunately, this is the side with more road-kill [2 possums, a raccoon and a deer, to be exact]

I reached the top in time to see my friend pull into his driveway. I stopped for a minute or two to chat with Bingo Bob, who had just returned from WalMart. He didn’t say what deals he got, if any. I suspected he went just to point and laugh, that’s the kind of guy he is.

I finished my first five miles and got back in the house just before D’Wife came down for breakfast.

D’Wife went out with her friends Friday night, so in order to let her sleep in, I planned to do my next run in the afternoon, while she and D’Kid went shoe-shopping. I guessed they’d be out for about an hour and a half, giving me time to do 7 or 8 miles and still be have time to get us all ready for 4:30 Mass; leaving only 3½ or so to do Sunday, before she had to leave for work.

Very doable.

However …

When D’Kid’s friend from across the street invited her over for the afternoon, that left D’Wife without a shopping-buddy. Women can NOT shop alone, especially for shoes, for some reason.

I was conscripted to assist.

Actually, I didn’t mind all that much; it’s been a while since I’d been invited along, and it was kinda fun. The girl has Mad Coupon Skillz, too!!! It was amazing!!! They had to make up NEW codes just to accommodate her!!! Two pairs of Clarks for $127.

Unfortunately, that trip put me in a serious time pinch to get the 25K finished.My options were:

1] Get up super-early on Sunday – like 4:30AM – and do 10½ miles before D’Wife had to get up for work = not freaking likely

2a] Get up at reasonable hour – 5:30 – do 5 miles or so and hope to find / make time in the afternoon to do the other five

2b] Get up at reasonable hour, do 5 miles, ignore the deadline and do the other 5 before work on Monday. I’d be dead last and probably DQ’d but I wouldn’t DNF.

"How do you DNF a Virtual Comp?"
"You DON'T Finish it!!! DUH!!!"
"It's Virtual, Dumbass!!! Make something up!!! You're a pretty good writer; I'm sure you could make it sound convincing."
"YOU ... have NO sense of Honor. PLUS ... I've got this friend - Voo - checking my moves from The Other Side. I can't let him down in such a way."

Like Bruce Lee said: "To experience oneself honestly, not lying to oneself, and to express myself honestly, now that is very hard to do."

Either of the “5:30” options would be fine, and neither would put undue stress on either of D’Girls. Just me.

I woke up in normal fashion [without an alarm, even], long before dawn. The stars were bright and clear in the 31° air. Frost was all around, and my breath left a trail of tiny clouds behind me as I ran out to the lakes and farm country. In the interest of time, I did only 5½, turning around at the 2¾ mark, with the blessing of an owl “Whooo Who-Who-ing” somewhere in the woods. As cold as it was, there wasn’t any ice on the lakes yet, perhaps because the water was still pretty warm. The beauty of running in the pre-dawn cold, is that feeling of accomplishment you get when you’re finished and you notice that there’s steam coming off of you, as you cool down beneath the streetlights.

I now had only 5 more miles to do sometime after D’Kid’s Choir performance at 11:30 Mass, lunch, grocery shopping and starting dinner around 5:00 [yes, we went as a family at 5:30 Saturday, but Mariel still had Choir at 11:30; one can never spend too much time in church].

The afternoon had warmed up nicely by the time we were finished at ShopRite. Mariel was fully on board with the plan for the rest of the afternoon, as I had outlined on the ride home. If any of her neighborhood friends were around to play with, she’d hang out with them for about an hour while I went out on my own; if not, she would ride her bike beside me as I ran either pretty much the same out and back I had done in the morning, or – if she was too fussy about riding 5 miles – to her school track a mile from home, where I would do laps for 3 miles then jog back.

At about 3:15, she rolled out, and I followed. I didn’t have to prompt her to slow down or to speed up, even though this was truly only the second time she’d bike-paced me. I neglected to start my watch, as this was for fun and not time, but I suspect we got to my first checkpoint, in about my usual time.

I directed her to turn left when we got to the street her school was on, as I wanted to show her part of my morning routine.

“Dad, this feels like I’m riding to school” she said, which led us to chat about why I had joined PTA [to get some bike racks at Assumption] and what a shame it was that I wasn’t able to pull it off.

When we got to the Church I told her to follow me to the statue of the Blessed Mother that stands in front of the entrance.

“Every morning that I run this route,” I explained, “I stop and say at least one Hail Mary; more if needed.”

I stopped, crossed myself and before I could begin …

“I’m done, let’s go” my partner said.
“You pray fast!!!”
“Well, I started early” she admitted.

I gave her the choice of which path to take [down the street past her school, or the bike path which also functions as her school track, which was her choice] and we made our way past the public school, the township ball field and across the railroad tracks. It’s a gentle slope for the next ¾ mile down to the lakes, rising back up to the farms around the bend. Mariel stopped to look at the sheep and cows as I continued on for another 200 yards or so.

I had just reached my turnaround spot when a little voice called from behind …

“Dad!!! Stop!!! I have a flat tire!!!”

She had gotten a flat just two weeks ago, and was sensitive about getting another. She showed me were she thought the hole was, but I assured her that was exactly where I’d pulled the sliver of glass out.

“It’s time for us to head back anyway. I’ll keep an eye on it”

It wasn’t long before I noticed that her rear tire was, in fact, going soft. I had the foresight to replace her inner-tube with a self-sealing one, so it wouldn’t go completely flat; still, it was a little sketchy, and difficult to pedal up a steepish rise.

She had just managed to get to the stoplight when it changed to red.

“Really???!!! Now you change???!!!” she admonished the signal. “I hate you, stoplight.”

We laughed and teased the signal for it's rudeness, selfishness and general bad behavior.

The rest of the run home was uneventful. The leak stabilized with the tire about half-inflated. She reiterated how she’d like to be able to ride her bike to school someday, and speculated where they might put bike racks if they are ever allowed to. With a quarter mile or so to go, Mariel informed me that she wouldn’t be racing me home, but I was free to sprint if I felt like it, once we were back in our development.

We got back to our house just as the sun dropped behind the treetops of the woods behind our house.

We stopped to talk with a neighbor then went in.

“You go get yourself a shower, right now, Mister!!!”
“Yes, ma’am. ... And thank you.”
“That was fun, Daddy. We should do that again next Sunday.”
“We’ll see, Punkin. We’ll see."

Total elapsed time: 57 hours or so
Total running time: 2 hours, maybe?