Imagination running wild

Thought I heard the strains of banjo strumming coming through the woods as I ran down a dark and lonely road in southern Missouri yesterday.

Maybe it was just my imagination.

But the run definitely had a bit of a Deliverance vibe. Although I was trying to keep a moderate to slow pace during my continued somewhat-pathetic attempt at base training, wild thoughts about what might be lurking in the Ozarks woods caused me to pick up the pace a bit.

My, what a fun holiday visit to the in-laws.

Now, now, now I am just kidding. It's a fine region filled with wonderful people. There are even pockets of sophistication. Springfield, for example, is home to one of the well-stocked and best wine shops in the entire region. But I did snap the photo up above on our trip home. My twisted imagination ran wild as I thought about the wedding celebrations that would involve guests picking gifts from the list of a bride who registered at the local hunting and fishing supplies store.

Actually, we did have a good time during the visit. But by the time Sunday morning rolled around, I definitely needed to get out for a run.

Kind of freaked my father in-law out when he heard the front door creaking open just after 6 in the morning. I apologized for the disturbance, but said I was heading out to get in some miles. Yes, it was still dark. I promised I would be OK.

I returned after 7 miles and, very thankfully, no Ned Beatty-like incidents.

One thing I had hoped to do in the past few weeks was reflect on my running in 2007 and then set some goals and target races for the coming year. That hasn’t happened yet, but I do hope to make it happen today or tomorrow.

Dazzled by the holiday lights

Mrs. Oz is an adherent to the Good Choice, Bad Choice School of parenting.

A typical case might involve her query to the boy Ozling just after he had been caught smacking his sister upside the head. “You struck your sister. Plus, it’s three days before Christmas. Now was that a good choice or a bad choice?”

This little pedantic exercise is supposed to help him realize the error of his ways.

My all-time favorite case was one Halloween when we were on a haunted hayrack ride where various spooky creatures popped out of the shadows in an attempt to frighten us. They had a headless horseman on a real horse. Very cool. Then we went around the bend and out popped a guy with a leather mask wielding a chainsaw and threatening to chop off our heads.

She turned to our son and said something along the lines of “Now, trying to cut peoples’ heads off with a chainsaw, is that a good choice or a bad choice?”

I didn’t do anything so crazy this morning as recklessly wielding a chainsaw or even smacking someone upside the head. But I probably have opened myself up for one of the infamous queries.

“So, Oz man, you have run twice in two weeks and today you ran 10 miles? What were you thinking?” ….(wait for it….) “Was that a good choice or a bad choice?”

In my defense, such as it is, I didn’t really mean to go so far. I just got caught up in the Christmas spirit. As I took off this morning, I kind of wanted to wind my way down to the Country Club Plaza. It was still dark, so I thought I could check out the beautiful Christmas lights. Plus, thought I might do some window shopping, er window running?

I kept telling myself to take it slow. And generally I did take it easy. John Ellis, sitting in for Steve Runner, on this past week’s edition of the Phedippidations podcast had some fascinating advice about base training. Running long and slow in the off season can provide major benefits as you prepare to begin training for a race.

He also said something about the importance of frequency and consistency. I guess three runs over two weeks doesn’t count. But I am hoping that the holiday craziness, my frantic work schedule and the icy nastiness on the streets will ease a bit so I can hit the road more regularly as I prepare for my races in 2008.

Once-a-week-whether-I-need-to-or-not training plan

Iciness this past week was not very conducive to running.

So I didn’t.

When the sun popped out, at least a little, on Friday, so did I.

Once again I had an almost out-of-body experience when I changed the time I usually run.

I had the day off, so I dropped the Ozlings off at school and then took off. What the heck were all these cars doing on my streets?

There is a huge difference in traffic when running at 5 in the morning compared with running a little after 8.

I went 7 yesterday and I am kind of feeling it in my legs today. Kind of sad to see so much of my conditioning evaporate.

Guess its only going to get worse as long as I continue this run-once-a-week-whether-I-need-it-or-not training plan.

Like a pig on rollerskates

Slip sliding away.

My common sense, that is.

I made a disappointing, but what turned out to be a good decision, to bag the Chili Run. That would have involved driving on the highways and byways for some 20 miles to reach the race at Wyandotte County Lake Park. Not a good idea.

It was crazy out there.

I could barely remain upright at times while navigating the streets on my size 12s.

I had hoped to get in my 8 on the 8th. Looks like I am going to need to get a rain check (or would that be an ice check?) for another mile and a half. I put in 6.5 miles this morning.

Glad I did. It was treacherous, at times. But, as my last post indicated, so was my state of mind. I needed some pavement therapy.

I could feel some of the frustration, tension and anger melt away as I logged the miles this morning. It’s disappointing that Topher and I did not get to meet up for a run together. We’ll have to find another run in the coming weeks, or more likely after the first of the year.

Now it is time to warm up and maybe have some hot cocoa. Then the real treat awaits.

More painting. Sigh.

Craptaculosity

I'm pissed off.

In a word, this week sucked. Today, appropriately, capped them all.

Discord. Squabbling. Stupid mistakes.

I realize everybody gets a turn with these kind of weeks. This was mine.

Still, I'm exhausted. I'm angry.

I want to run.

Please, please, please, please let this ice apocalypse that has all the weather forecasters in an absolute tizzy hold off long enough Saturday for me to get in my 8 on the 8th.

I neeeeeeeed to run.

Smacked

Don’t cry for the Tigers.

Not that many of you planned to anyway, I realize. Well, maybe a few crocodile tears. Right, Jayhawk?

It was a helluva season. They were tough, mostly. Chase is amazing. They still are probably headed for at least a New Year’s Day bowl.

I’m whining today, but not because of the beatdown the Sooners inflicted on Mizzou. Stayed over last night at my mother-in-law’s house where we watched what turned out to be a not-so-big-game. Thought I would go for a run this morning, but I ended up forgetting a few crucial pieces of gear. Running without socks would not have been good for my ‘ol size 12s.

By the time we got back to the Land of Oz, it was time to paint. Joy.

Looks like we might get the dining room done tonight, but this little home-improvement project looks like it will extend to next weekend. Joy oh Joy.

Maybe if I am a good boy, and promise to come back to paint, I can sneak off for this….

12/08/2007 (Sat) MARA Chili Run
6.5 mileWyandotte County Lake91st & Leavenworth Rd.Kansas City, KS10:00 A.M.http://www.mararunning.org No entry fee for MARA members, $5 for non-members; donations for charity.816.741.2314

What we do for domestic tranquility

Oh, I get it. December, on it's own, does not bring enough stress, chaos and wearying merriment.

Just for some added fun, let's paint the dining room. And the living room. And the main hallway.

Oh well. Even I must admit that the place is starting to look pretty good. And this is only with the first coat of primer.

I don't always understand -- or agree with -- the timing of Mrs. Oz's plans, but they usually work out for the best.

Gotta roll....

Get out and run already

Three runs. 16.46 miles. Total.

Kinda sad for a week’s work. But my post-race mileage has dropped off big time and 16’s not too bad for what I have been doing lately.

Too much "cross training" lately that has involved leaf raking, wall painting, errand running and work stressing. More of the same, I’m afraid, is planned for this weekend.

Plus, we are supposed to get some frozen nastiness on Saturday. I’ll gladly take snow, but frozen rain is just downright unfriendly for driving and running. Hope the weather forecasters have at least a partial clue when they say Sunday will be in the non-frozen 40s.

If it’s true, I’m going for a run.

Tigers on Top

As I awoke Sunday, Missouri was calling to me.

Lately for my long runs I have just laced up my Mizunos and headed out my front door for a jaunt through the friendly confines of Kansas. On Sunday, however, I wanted to head across the state line for the full run.

It must have been the game. You know, the one some were calling Armageddon at Arrowhead. In the aftermath of that event – that wonderfully, glorious and amazing event -- at least for a day, I just didn’t want to be a Tiger in the land of the Jayhawks.

So I grabbed my gear and cruised over to Westport. I wound my way through streets that must have been thumping with activity the night before, headed through the Plaza, ran for a bit along Brush Creek and then headed up the Trolley Trail.

The University of Missouri Tigers performance must have pumped me full of a little extra competitive spirit. A pair of runners passed by and then a short time later turned around to come back the other direction on the trail. I was running around 8:40 miles, but the other runners were going faster. Without completely realizing what I was doing, I picked up the pace. Not going to pass me so easily, I thought.

I was planning to turn around myself a short distance later. I kept up the pace – what I later found out was an 8:05 mile; just silly for a training run ­– and didn’t get passed before I turned around about 4.6 miles into my run. A meaningless victory, I realize, but sometimes I rely on these sorts of mind games to find a needed spark.

The build up in the days leading up to the big game was ridiculous. The Ozlings definitely took notice. On Saturday, as we were driving around town, the Ozlings would point out a Jayhawk flag or emblem on another car and make some disparaging comment. I actually discouraged such talk. Root for our team, I encouraged, but it doesn’t mean we have to hate and belittle the other guys.

Heresy, I realize.

Now I know that all Tigers have been painstakingly indoctrinated to hate Jayhawks and vice versa. My college roommates even questioned my loyalty when I moved to Kansas City and found a home on the Kansas side of the line. (Silly me. I wanted to find a good home and decent public schools for the Ozlings – something that sadly is not readily available in the heart of KC MO.)

The prelude to the big battle between Mizzou and Kansas brought out the worst in some. The so-called Border Battle reportedly has roots extending to the Civil War era when William Quantrill and his band of Confederate guerillas from Missouri raided Lawrence, Kansas, and massacred 183 men and boys. Some Missouri nutjobs actually hail Quantrill and his thugs.

I am proud of my school, but many in the state of Missouri were on the wrong side of the Civil War. Quantrill was despicable. American sport has degenerated to the point where it is more about disparaging rivals than celebrating your own team.

And why would a Mizzou supporter need to tear anybody else down? At least for the moment, the Tigers are on top!

Thankful

Greeting the morning with a run on city streets still quiet before the start of that day’s hustle and bustle truly is one of life’s great joys.

I am thankful.

Feeling my heart pump, my legs stride and my spirit soar as I ran PRs in two races this year makes me smile months later.

I am thankful.

Seeing Mrs. Oz and the Ozlings jumping and shouting by the side of the road, supporting me and cheering me on in a race is a wonderful gift.

I am thankful.

Laughing, joking and talking with a good friend so much on a Saturday morning long run that 10 miles go by seemingly in an instant.

I am thankful.

Getting encouragement, inspiration, camaraderie and even the occasional real-world hug from fellow Running Bloggers.

I am thankful.

Started my day with 7 chilly, but wonderful miles this morning. It felt great to get out on the road.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

Hanging on

Disarray.

That’s the state of my life these days, I’m afraid.

Sometimes it seems as if I have life figured out. Not always succeeding, but at least I’m tracking and hanging in there fairly well.

Then there are times like the past couple of weeks when it seems more that I am hanging on. By my fingernails.

Nothing overly traumatic or dramatic. About the best image that comes to mind to illustrate my situation is a hamster on a spinning wheel. Except someone else is spinning the wheel. Sometimes the hamster moves his little legs fast enough to keep up. And sometimes the wheel flips him – me -- upside down and forces him to start running again.

Work has got me running. Life with the Ozlings has me running. And my running? Well, that’s what pushed me to the disarray realization.

Didn’t get a long run in on Saturday. Definitely didn’t make it to the inaugural edition of a local race – the Pilgrim Pacer. Topher did though and had a good run. Great job, Topher. My life was too hectic. The Boy Ozling had a birthday party that day. With 20-some kids. What were we thinking? Actually, it all turned out fairly well. We had the party at a place with a bunch of big slides and inflatable bounce houses.

Run the kids hard for a couple hours, load them up on excessively sugary frosting and cake and then send them on their way.

Sunday morning arrived and I pondered a run. What the heck, I thought. Let’s go. I just about got whomped by hypothermia earlier in the week. Before leaving Sunday, I walked outside to check the temp. Seemed a little chilly. So I put on my wind jacket. A mistake. I can’t even figure out the weather these days.

It was in the high 50s. I regretted being so bundled up about a mile into the run. I kind of had a course in mind. I also kind of had a distance in mind. What about 10 miles? I went through a park at about mile 5. Stopped at a drinking fountain. Apparently they already have turned off the fountains for winter. Great.

At that point I took off the jacket and tied it around my waist. That helped a little. About 7 miles in, my legs started feeling heavy. My breathing wasn’t coming as easy as it normally does on a long run. Was I going to make it? Would I have to walk?

This was supposed to be a simple training run. I was struggling more than I did during the recent half marathon. One of my feet started to hurt. I began obsessing over getting a glass of Gatorade.

My Garmin beeped at 8 miles. Surely I can make it two more, I thought. I kept shuffling along. Straining. Thought about cutting it short, but sucked it up, crested a final hill and finished a full 10. When I did get home, I just sat on the stairs to take off my shoes. I had to wait a few minutes just to muster the energy to go mix up a glass of sports drink.

Pushing yourself on run so you can build strength and test your limits is one thing. Not dressing for the weather, failing to hydrate properly and hanging on just to finish what was supposed to be a long, slow run is another.

Let’s hope life settles down at least a little this week. And I can find my way back into a running groove.

Frozen follies

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Way too much stubbornness. Not nearly enough good judgment.

After enjoying a run on Monday morning with temperatures in the fifties, I went out Wednesday in shorts, a short-sleeve shirt and a wind jacket. I did have some thin gloves on and a running hat, but that wasn’t nearly enough for what I found to be 33 degrees when I checked later.

I figured that I would warm up after a while. And I needed to get going so I would have time to finish the run, get back and make breakfast for the Ozlings and then get everybody off to school and work.

As I pressed on, I warmed up a little bit but was generally miserable. These are the kinds of running mornings I dreamed about back in the scorching summer. I am a weather wimp, I admit, but my wimpiness is about the heat, not cool and crisp temperatures.

I gutted it out for my five miles.

When I walked in, the girl Ozling was sitting on the couch reading a book.

“Is that all you wore?” she asked, displaying the vast wisdom of her 9 years. “I’ll bet you froze your patoot off.”

Step away from the plastic pumpkin

Being a gang leader is a dirty business.

Like any good dad, I took the crew out last week for a little trick or treating action. As the brains behind the operation, and, in this case, also the hired muscle to guard the gang during the heists, I get a cut of the loot.

This definitely is not our first year with this business, so the Ozlings knew the drill. Even without being asked they came to me with mounds of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups soon after getting home with the plastic pumpkins brimming with sugary goodness.

Sure, it was fun. And, I must admit to a sweet tooth. But this is a mess – definitely not a good situation during a time when I have been cutting back on my running mileage.

I’ve been going on a candy bender.

Only ran once during the week last week. Blame a little extra craziness at work and the general hectic pace of life with the Ozlings.

I did get out Saturday for one more 10 miler this season with the Saturday group. They have a winter session that runs through early January, but I don’t think I’ll sign up. I’ve got my sights set on rejoining them in mid January to start prepping for a half marathon in the spring .

This morning I took a spin around the neighborhood for a few miles. Hope to get on the road at least twice more during the work week and then get in a long run on Saturday.

I surfed some marathon advice Web sites over the weekend in search of a new off-season running schedule. Found a couple things, but nothing that really jumped out at me as the one I was seeking. I’ll keep looking.

In the meantime, I’ll keep running. And digging deep for a little extra willpower to bypass the candy. But maybe I just slather some peanut butter on a mini Hershey’s chocolate bar one more time…..

Please pass the salt

The margin for error in a half marathon is much greater than it is for a longer race.

While this may be more than obvious for experienced marathoners, it’s given me another box to include on my mental checklist as I prepare for 26.2, probably next fall.

During my recent half marathon, I clipped along without many a care. Usually I grabbed a cup of water or Gatorade at the aid stations, but I only sipped a little before tossing the cup aside. (I must admit that I abandoned the cups from the Kansas City Half Marathon a little wistfully. They were Spider Man cups and kind of cool, but I digress).

My point is that I didn’t make sure to take in a certain amount of sports drink as I made my way through the course. I was winded when I got to the end of 13.1, but I didn’t experience any cramps or other serious problems.

I recently heard anecdotes from a couple of experienced marathoners I respect about cramping problems as they tackled full marathons this fall. Both were on track through much of the race to break the 4-hour barrier. Both, however, still ended up setting PRs, but were zapped with cramping legs late in the race that forced them to walk.

It’s left me with some questions about how much sports drink to take in during a race. I have experimented with Gu in the past while on long runs. Maybe that will take care of it all. Or maybe salt tablets are necessary.

This article chalks it all up to getting in sufficient miles in training and then taking in salt and sports drink during a race, but it doesn’t really indicate how much. Looks like I have some research to do.

I got out this morning for 5.5. Didn’t get in any running over the weekend. My activities could count as cross-training, though. At least I am sore enough that they should qualify.

Went camping over the weekend with the youngest Ozling and his Cub Scout den. Not many experienced campers among the other fathers. One said he hadn’t been camping recently. I asked how recently. Back when he was a Cub Scout. About 30 years ago.

We all survived and had a good time. Fun times around the campfire. And we took a nice hike around the lake at Watkins Mill State Park. A large portion of the trail was paved, which didn’t seem to agree with my hiking boots. My calves are sorer this week than they were in the days after the half marathon.

Drifting

I’m like a rudderless boat piloted by a skipper without a map.

It’s not necessarily a bad thing.

It’s going to take some adjustment, though.

For months now I have been guided by a daily grid detailing either rest or a certain number of miles I need to run. With only a few exceptions, I remained true to the training schedule, keeping my eyes on the race at the end of the road.

Now, though, I don’t really have a big race in mind. I don’t have a schedule.

Before the race, I didn’t want to start thinking too much about what comes after a half marathon. That would have been cart-before-the-horse, chickens-before-they-hatch thinking – rather presumptuous and possibly bringing on bad luck. Guess I am superstitious about these things.

I got out twice this week. Tuesday was just an easy four miler. Today, the Ozlings were out of school and I took the day off work. We’re going camping later and I need to pack. This morning I was able to go run. While the sun was shining. What an odd experience.

Didn’t really have a course in mind. Before I left, one of the Ozlings asked how far I intended to go. 5, maybe 6, I replied. I just went meandering. 6.5 miles later, I was home. It felt great. The leaves are starting to turn. I got to catch a better glimpse of some of the fancy houses along parts of one of my favorite courses. Some folks have really gussied up their places with cool Halloween decorations.

My immediate need is to figure out some kind of training routine. Having a schedule motivates me to get out of bed in the morning and lace up the shoes. Marathon and half-marathon schedules are in ready supply. Not really sure where to find an off-season conditioning schedule. I am in fairly decent shape at the moment, if I do say so myself. Don’t want to lose all of this.

Eventually, like Topher, I will want to set some bigger goals and get a bit more serious again. Next fall could be interesting.

Two for one race bling

Think Global. Run Local.

There’s plenty that divides us. Why not seek ways to unite us?

At least that’s what SteveRunner and a few of our fellow runners such as Mal, John, Ben and Terry think. I say, Right on.

These runners, who also happen to have some of the most inspiring podcasts, blogs and running Web sites around, organized a little event recently that brought this community we call Earth a little closer together.

The Phedippidations World Wide Half Marathon – and kick the couch 5K – Challenge.
Over the past two weekends, more than 1,200 runners from all over the United States, Europe, Iceland, Australia, Japan and nearly every other corner of the globe laced up the shoes for a 13.1-mile jaunt, or in some cases a 5K.

Check out the map of all the participants. I find it stunning.

Some of us ran in organized races. Many others ran a course of their own choosing. While we all placed our toes on a different starting line, we really did come together, at least virtually.

I truly felt connected as I listened to the many runners contributing comments, encouragement and advice on the Cheers from the World edition of the Phedippidations podcast recently. I played the episode as I drove along the Kansas City Half Marathon course the day before the race. Mal offered a series of mantras, including “pain hurts less than regret,” that I found going through my mind on race day.

Getting lost in my thoughts on a solo long run is one life’s great pleasures. But hanging out with some fellow runners on a run or at an expo before a race also is a kick. Uniting across the miles through an event such as the Worldwide Half is just amazing.

Can’t wait to participate in the Third Annual Phedippidations World Wide Half Marathon challenge next year.

Through our shared passion for running and living life to the fullest, maybe we can overcome differences or other obstacles that divide us. By lacing up running shoes together, who knows? Maybe it can bring together Southerners and Yankees. Republicans and Democrats. Beer drinkers and wine drinkers. Or – I know this is probably the craziest possibility of all (and yes, it’s hard to swallow that KU is ranked over Mizzou during football??!! season) – Jayhawks and Tigers.

Plus, don't discount the fact that participation can bring 2-for-1 race bling. I’m proud of the medal I got for finishing the KC half. But the WorldWide Half certificate is just as cool.

Rockin' in Kansas City

So the plan was to set aside my jumble of injuries, frustration, regret – and maybe a touch of self loathing— stewing away inside me in order to provide time to heal and regroup.

After a while, I got back on the road and steadily pursued a training plan intended to make me stronger and prepare me for another race. The goal eventually emerged as a half marathon, but the idea was to train without serious injury, have a good overall experience and then decide what to do after that.

I am happy – Oh so happy, and maybe a bit ecstatic – to report this morning:

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!

The Kansas City half marathon rocked and as far as nailing my goal, so did I.

What a beautiful morning and a fantastic race.

We had record turnout for the event that started in downtown Kansas City and then wove its way through some of the highlights of our fair city, including Westport, the Plaza and the 18th and Vine jazz district.

Last night it was a treat to meet RunningJayhawk, Out of Shape Guy Mike (a.k.a. Jayhawk’s husband) and Jayhawk’s family at the marathon expo. The Chicago runners flew in for the half marathon. We had one uncomfortable moment when it was revealed I went to college in this region, but not in Lawrence. “Was it the school I loathe or the one I despise?” she asked. “Mizzou,” I replied, drawing a grimace. Hope our shared passion for running and enjoying life will be enough to help us overcome this hurdle – although, admittedly, it might be a bit of a challenge during basketball season.

Jayhawk’s adventures and encouragement seem to have inspired other members of her family also to lace up the running shoes. In addition to our own fun times and health-improving benefits of our running, it’s tremendous when the example we set can get others out on the road too.

This a.m., somehow I was able to find my running friend Rob standing amid the gaggle of thousands of runners in the early-morning darknesss. Rob was running the full marathon, but the half and full courses were the same through 6 miles.

We ran together early on, including up some nasty, nasty hills in the first couple of miles. I was only half kidding when I asked Rob whether we should put on climbing harnesses and rope in case one of us slipped off the steep cliff of a hill by Liberty Memorial. He looked strong, strong, strong when he zigged and I zagged to finish our different races. Can’t wait to hear his race report.

Around mile 5 I spotted Mrs. Oz and the Ozlings jumping, cheering and offering awesome support by the side of the road. I swooped in for a batch of high 5s and then was on my way. After the hills, we were treated to a downward drop and long sections of flat.

I turned on the jets. Coach Eladio had me well trained. He had been sprinkling in a bunch of hilly courses for our Saturday morning long runs in recent weeks. They helped. I was cruising on the ups, the downs and felt strong through the end.

We had good crowd support for most stretches of the race. It thinned out a little during the back section, but those who were there offered enthusiastic cheering and an occasional cow bell.

With a mile to go, I did a mental check. The usual twinges, although they were relatively muted, checked in. But I was doing fine. My last three miles were 7:41, 7:25 and 7:30. I averaged 8:23 for the entire run. I came in at under 2 hours. Better than I had hoped.

That marathon monkey probably will remain on my back until I can offer a similarly positive report for 26.2, but today I at least loosened his grip.

Take your mark....

Think, coiled spring. Maybe, rocket on a launch pad. Or, how about a cheetah just before he bolts after some hapless gazelle?

OK. You get the idea.

I’m ready.

As I walked back toward the house after dropping the Ozlings off at school this morning, I was skipping and jumping as I thought about tomorrow. I was careening through the house this morning, singing goofy songs.

I’m giddy.

Going to be good times. Topher – I’ll run for donuts – and RobRuns are running. Little Miss Runner Pants will be passing out cups of thirst-quenching electrolytes. Thanks for the support! And, we are getting a very cool guest appearance from RunningJayhawk. Welcome to Kansas City! My neighbor Bob was going to run, but he decided to shift to leading the support team for his wife, Adrienne, who is running the Des Moines half the next day.

We’ll miss you Bob, but you are a good and supportive guy. Maybe next year in Kansas City.

The Kansas City Marathon and half marathon has set a record for participation. Looks like we are going to have 5,500 pairs of running shoes laced up on the starting line Saturday.

I printed off a course map and discussed with Mrs. Oz where she and the Ozlings might position themselves at a couple points along the course. A little later this afternoon I am heading over to the expo.

My participation Saturday will be a bit of half marathon double dipping. In addition to my entry in the Kansas City race, I also intend to enter my time for the Phedippidations Worldwide Half Marathon Challenge.

The second year for that very cool race also has record participation. SteveRunner (fantastic podcast definitely worth checking out) and all the gang organizing that event have done a great job.

I’m inspired.

OK. Let’s do this thing.

Race day is coming....

Weird. And kind of spooky.

I went through nearly my entire run this morning without seeing another semi-nocturnal creature in running shoes. I did see a fox scamper across the street. That was cool. But only at the end did I encounter a pair of other runners.

It almost seemed as if some runner’s version of martial law had been imposed on the area. The Kansas City Marathon (and for folks like me, the Half Marathon) is only days away so everybody in the city must taper.

Even if that’s the case, I don’t think I caused too much of a violation. Did an easy 5 miles. Felt pretty good, for the most part.

The flipping of the calendar pages leaves me unable to deny that I am another year older. It would be nice to think I am wiser, but I cannot offer the same tangible proof.

A year ago, I realize now, my DNF at the marathon in Milwaukee should have been a do not start. My foot was hurting so bad and I developed a case of IT Band Syndrome in the final weeks of training that I misguidedly decided that an extreme taper was the way to go.

I didn’t run a step for at least two weeks, and maybe closer to three, before the race. When we got to the city, my foot was bothering me even as I walked from the hotel over to the expo. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I was doomed from the start and should have realized it.

So far, my plan seems to be working this year. I decided to aim for a Half Marathon and dial back the distance in training. I did a 13 miler and a series of 12 milers, but that was the maximum distance.

Can’t say I haven’t experienced some discomfort and twinges, but it is nothing like a year ago. I think I’m ready.

I am looking forward to it. Hope it’s fun, though I am a bit anxious. I have done the distance before, but I just can’t seem to escape the self doubt and mind games before a race.

I’ll take it as a good omen that the latest weather forecast – I know, I know. Like we have any reason to really believe the prognostications of these witch doctors with Doppler radar -- is calling for race time temperatures in the low 50s.

Plus, I made it through this morning’s run without getting dumped on. Only as I placed my key in the front door did I get a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder.

Squish, squish, squish

Did somebody move Kansas City to the Pacific Northwest while I wasn’t watching?

It rained last night. Again.

Getting out the door this morning for an easy 3 miles, I was greeted to raindrops dripping from the trees and puddles everywhere. It must have just stopped.

After my rain-soaked runs over the previous couple of weeks and my rainy weekend in the wilderness, I am just starting to wonder whether I should skip the race Saturday to work on building an ark.

Look, if somebody did move Kansas City to the rainy Northwest, I wouldn’t be mad. The way I figure it, the wet conditions wouldn't be terrible. That's why they invented Gore-Tex, right?

But if we are going to get their weather, I also want the views of Mount Ranier and the ocean.

Cross training with thunderstorms and tents

As I lay awake in my tent the past couple of nights listening to the thunder shake the skies and the rain pelt our shelter, I pondered the upcoming race.

One week.

The Kansas City half marathon is Saturday October 20.

We’re about to see what can come from training through the summer, focusing on the goal and then getting to the starting line.

We took the Ozlings into the wilderness over the weekend for a little cross-training expedition we call camping. We drove north and some of our longtime friends from Nebraska came down to meet us at Indian Cave State Park in southeastern Nebraska.

Good times. Wet, make that extremely wet, times. But good times, nonetheless.

The forecast said we could get hit with some rain on Saturday afternoon and Sunday. The forecasters were close. The torrential downpour of near biblical proportions arrived about 3 a.m. Saturday.

It was kind of strange to see the tent completely illuminated as if someone were shining a floodlight just above us. Then a few beats later, “Ruuumble! Rummmble! Crack!”

Our tent did its job. The wet was on the outside. We were dry on the inside.

It was actually kind of cool to experience a thunderstorm with only a narrow nylon barrier separating us from the raging wind, rain and lightning outside.

The rain eventually let up Saturday enough for us to take a hike. That was about the extent of the exercise over the weekend. I squeezed in an 8-miler on Thursday, knowing that our camping trip would mess with my running schedule. It was my final semi-long run before the half marathon.

Thinking about the Chicago Marathon survivors, I am a little anxious about the conditions on race day. Kansas City has a wonderfully scenic course, but it certainly isn’t as famously flat as Chicago’s. So let’s be clear, we don’t need any excessive heat.

The forecast at the moment calls for a high of 69 and a low of 55 next Saturday. Shouldn’t be terrible, but a few degrees cooler would be nice.

Not that I really trust a forecast this far out anyway. Those meteorological jokers told us we were going to have a clear first night of camping this past weekend.

After we got home this afternoon, I had a front yard full of drenched gear to prove otherwise.

Good Fun that is Funny

So a couple weeks ago when I was greeted, “Good morning,” by heavy rain, thunder and lightning, I followed the advice of that renowned philosopher, Dr. Seuss.

“The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So (I) sat in the house. All that cold, cold, wet day.”

Didn’t really want to chance getting crispy from a lightning strike, but I also didn’t feel great about missing my run that day.

This morning as I was getting my running gear together, again came the rain. This time, it was like I was giving in to the temptations of the Cat in the Hat. (My choice of literature doesn’t offer too much of a hint that I am a runner dad with little ones in the house, does it?)

“I know it is wet. And the sun is not sunny. But we can have lots of good fun that is funny.”

So I laced up the Mizunos and headed out the door. The rain seemed to have let up a little. Or not. It was gushing. My feet got squishy. But I only was trying to do three miles. Suck it up.

It’s part of the marathon pact, I guess.

We do our work. We put in the miles on hot days, cold days and wet. Train our muscles, Prepare our bodies. Prepare our minds. It’s like putting money in the bank.

Then on marathon day, or in my case in a couple weeks, half marathon day, we make a withdrawal, run the race and everything is great. Right?

Well, yesterday in Chicago, not so much. What a disaster.

I am so upset, thinking about all of those runners – literally tens of thousands of them – who ran, ran and ran some more all summer. They prepared for the goal. Then they were greeted with scorching heat. And – though race organizers seem to be disagreeing – they were greeted with an overabundance of hot sun and a dearth of water, Gatorade and ice.

A guy died. Hundreds more went to the hospital. Many others stumbled into medical tents.

I am anxious to hear how some friends who were running the Chicago marathon fared. As I heard the news yesterday, I checked on the progress of RunningJayhawk. She was OK, just putting in her usual gutsy performance and finding rays of light on an otherwise dark day. Jason and Leah also were impressive on a ridiculous day. Mouse was not racing, but she earns praise as a superhero, rushing to the aid of the ailing runners unable to get enough water and ice on the course.

Stones in my shoes

Toughening up – physically and mentally – I realize, would do me some good. It would help me bull through more challenges.

Sometimes, though, accepting pain is stupid.

As I ran this morning I thought I felt a stone in my shoe. A tiny fleck of a stone, actually, but an irritant nonetheless.

At first I ignored it. Keep running. Don’t stop. Must not stop, I thought.

Why?

It wasn’t a race. Just doing a six-mile training run. Not really trying to maintain any particular pace. Just wanted to get in some miles, focus on my form and enjoy the early morning.

About three miles in I started to detect a hot spot, a precursor to a blister. Still, I kept going. Must keep going.

Wait a minute. Last year I developed some blisters on long runs. That sucked. So I stopped, sat on the curb and removed my shoe. Sure enough, I had some tiny, tiny rock in there.

I brushed it off, put my shoe back on and was on my way.

Ahhh. Relief. I couldn’t believe how much of a difference it made.

So, yes, sometimes it’s good to be tough and bull my way through challenges. But other times, obviously, the smart thing is to stop, deal with the underlying source of the pain and then move on.

I wonder if this applies to more than my running?

I needed that one

Just rattled off 7.

Nothing spectacular. A steady, strong and comfortable seven miles.

I needed that. Badly.

Disastrous would be overstating the case. But my past week of running hasn’t been good. I was starting to wonder whether the wheels were coming off my running wagon. Again.

Last Tuesday I was scheduled for an 8-miler. As I awoke in the wee hours, the sky was flashing with lightning, the house was shaking with thunder and rain was gushing from the skies.

Maybe I’m a wimp. I didn’t mind getting wet. But I also didn’t want to get crispy from lightning. I bagged it.

The next day I went out and did my 8. I felt tight, but relatively OK.
I was going to go out and do 6 the next day, but felt a cold starting to take hold in my chest. One of the Ozlings has steadily been developing a cough over the past week. I decided to rest. I’ve been dropping Vitamin C bombs every day – I think it’s working.

I think it was the first training run I bagged without rescheduling while preparing for the upcoming half marathon.

On Saturday, I was supposed to do my longest long run for this round of training. 14. But the other Ozling had a flag football game. I joined the Saturday group for our 7 a.m. start. I did 10 miles. Not a very good 10. My left leg started to hurt. I pushed through, but didn’t feel good about the run.

Then I sprinted back to the car and cruised over to the game. I was a little late, but arrived in time to see the Ozling dash into the end zone and complete a pass. Wow.

Last night I worked on stretching my hamstrings and have gotten out that torture device known as a foam roller more consistently over the past few days. It seemed to help.

I started out slowly this morning and then cruised through the rest of the run. My left leg felt a lot better. The stretching made a difference.

I want to do well on my 12 miles on Saturday. I could use the mental boost. It was starting to feel like my body was falling apart. I was losing focus.

I’ve got to get a grip. Stay strong. I’m almost there.

Fun with Hills

Just as I am making peace with training and running for a half marathon, I go out this morning for 10 miles with one guy who just finished a marathon last weekend and two others who finished an ultra - 50 miles! - the weekend before. They all are thinking about running Kansas City's marathon -- in less than a month. Wahoo!! -- the full marathon and not the half!

I think my legs, knees and ankles would actually fall off instead of just aching if I tried anything close to such a stunt.

I contemplated the meaning of all this -- for once I think they just might be the crazy ones instead of me -as we ran a beautiful course near Lake Jacomo in Lee's Summit, Missouri. Beautiful scenery and beautiful weather and a beautiful course -- if you like hills.

Tried to capture the roller-coaster like elevation with a snapshot from my Garmin. I obviously am in need of some training for producing images for the Web because the quality isn't great. If you get a magnifying glass out you can see for yourself. But trust me, they were steep.

Weighty concerns

Never trust a skinny chef, goes the adage.

That may be true. But it’s a problem, I tell you, when that wanna-be chef also aspires to be at least a decent runner.

I’ve been cooking up a storm lately and my eating habits have become a disaster area. I am carrying the extra pounds to prove it.

This weekend, for example, I had a craving for New England clam chowder. I didn’t add all of the half and half called for in the recipe, but I am sure it was enough. Plus I didn’t skimp on the bacon. But my was it tasty.

The littlest Ozling has become quite intrigued by football, particularly the Indianapolis Colts and Peyton Manning. The game was on TV so I thought it would be fun to grab some grub and watch the game. I cooked a pizza and made some queso dip for a little pig-out session while watching the Colts beat the Titans. Not exactly gourmet fare, but it too was tasty.

Then that night I made some Chicken Parmigiana. This was not nearly as bad nutritionally as some recipes for this dish. Instead of breading and frying the chicken, I dabbed the chicken cutlets in some olive oil and herbs. Then I sautéed them for a few minutes, placed them in a baking dish, dribbled some marinara sauce over them and sprinkled some mozzarella and parmesan. Placed them in a hot oven to get the cheese bubbling, serve with some rigatoni and broccoli. Again, tasty. Notice a theme developing here?

Oh, and a chocolate chip pound cake also caught my eye in a food magazine so I helped one of the Ozlings bake one of our own. Mmmm….

I am a big fan of microbreweries and Kansas City has a great one, Boulevard Brewing. They have a delicious Lunar Ale that has been advertised all over town. I decided to give it a try. Yumm. After nearly eschewing the brew for much of the summer, a frosty glass filled with Lunar Ale was quite a treat. I still have half the six pack left, but I couldn’t resist pouring one when I made my version of Philly Steak sandwiches last week.

This seems to be my MO. Deny myself treats or special meals for long stretches. Then as I ramp up the exercise I go around starving all the time. Eventually, I give in and satisfy a craving. The problem is I keep going. It was so fun to satisfy one craving, why not another? And another?

I have rallied at least a little this week. Cooking decent family dinners is a big deal to me. No. 1, we need to gather at the end of the day as a family if at all possible. No. 2, the food should be good for us and (remember the theme?) tasty.

I prepared a dish of sautéed shrimp with cannellini the other night and last night whipped up some chicken quesadillas with black beans. Not too bad, I guess. But I did finish the evening last night with a slice of chocolate chip pound cake. Mmmmmm.

As far as the running goes, this has been a cutback week. 3 on Monday, 6 on Tuesday and a relatively easy 4 this morning. The schedule calls for 10 on Saturday. I am getting excited about the Half Marathon. One month to go!

A fine fall run

By the end of last week, my legs were drained, my knees were creaking and my foot was riddled with some troubling twinges.

This all seemed to be the result of some big miles. Big, at least, by the standards of my training schedule for the upcoming Kansas City Half Marathon.

I had logged 4 on Monday, 8 on Tuesday and 6 on Thursday. The whole point of scaling back and going for a half instead of a full marathon was to ease some of the pounding on my body.

Was even this training schedule too much?

I drove over to Lawrence in the wee hours Saturday to meet up with the group. We were going to run a bit through the KU campus and then jump on the levee trail along the Kansas River. My plan was to go for 13 miles.

As I got out of the car it was a nippy 44 degrees with a stiff wind. This is the beauty of the Midwest. It was barely a week ago that I risked heat stroke while going for a long run and now suddenly I was in danger of hypothermia.

After about the first mile I warmed up and didn’t regret heading out in a t-shirt and shorts. I felt OK. My foot wasn’t giving me trouble and I had a decent amount of giddy up in the legs.

The rain and the chilly temps provided plenty of motivation after I made the turn. I logged a series of 8:30s for at least 5 of the miles on the way in. I started thinking about how good a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich would taste on the way home.

It was a beautiful run.

Too much barbecue?

Last night, I chuckled out loud while reading a book and realizing others had previously pondered the contrast between athletically vibrant regions and Kansas City.

Buck O’Neil, one of this region’s truly treasured sons, was struck by the observation during a visit to California.

Riding along in a car on his way to an appearance, Buck looked at the “San Diego palm trees and the beautiful joggers,” according to one of the many wonderful anecdotes Joe Posnanski wrote about the Negroes League legend and gentle man in “The Soul of Baseball.”

“In my neighborhood in Kansas City, you need a fat belly to go jogging,” Buck said. “Not here. Why are all these skinny people running?”

Good morning to you, and you, and you and....

Sadly, Kansas City is not likely to be a contender for America’s fittest city anytime soon.
A cause for even greater sadness: the city has been known to garner a high ranking on the list of the fattest cities.

Check out these Men's Fitness magazine rankings from a couple years ago:

THE TOP 10 FATTEST CITIES of 2006 (with their 2005 ranking in parenthesis):
1. Chicago (5)
2. Las Vegas (9)
3. Los Angeles (21 fittest)
4. Dallas (6)
5. Houston (1)
6. Memphis, Tenn. (4)
7. Long Beach, Calif. (20)
8. El Paso, Texas (11)
9. Kansas City, Mo. (18)
10. Mesa, Ariz. (15)

When traveling to places such as Denver and San Francisco, the vivid difference jumps out right away with a simple glance. Denver’s Washington Park, for example, has been jam packed with walkers, runners, Rollerbladers and bicyclists when I have gotten in my miles there while on a road trip.

Unless it’s an organized race, I rarely see that volume of fellow runners out and about when I am closer to home.

That’s why I was surprised this morning when I encountered so many more runners than usual. I extended my route into Kansas City’s Brookside neighborhood and onto the Trolley Trail as I logged an eight-mile training run. I was passing oncoming runners and encountering others on the trail and surrounding streets throughout the run.

Granted, it was not a necessarily a huge number of runners. Just a lot more than the half dozen at most that I usually see.

It was dark – gloriously chilly (Hooray for the arrival of Fall!!) – and barely past 5 a.m. That time of the morning remains reserved for the few, the dedicated, the crazy?, and the near-nocturnal fitness freaks. It’s the only time of the day I have any hope of controlling. In the evening, often times I get delayed at the office, re-directed to one of the Ozling’s extracurricular activities or engaged in preparing the family’s dinner so an end-of-the-day workout isn’t practical for me.

I enjoy the opportunity to put in some miles and get lost in my thoughts in the early hours of the day. Saturday’s are the time I like to gather with a larger group and chat while on a longer run.

So while I am not necessarily looking for conversation on my weekday mornings, it is nice to see evidence in the form of fellow runners that I am not totally whacked out for stumbling from a comfortable bed to work up a sweat and pound the pavement.

The optimist in me wants to believe that the additional runners I saw this morning indicate a growing fitness-embracing trend in the Kansas City area. If we can keep it up, maybe the next time some fitness magazine crunches the numbers, we could shed our ignoble ranking.

Welcome back legs

My eyes popped open in the wee hours Thursday.

As I stared at the dark outside and at an alarm clock indicating that it was not yet 4 a.m. – way too early, even for me -- I wondered whether my legs were up for a jaunt. I also started going over the struggle to squeeze in all of my planned long runs, Cub Scout outings, family camping trips and other assorted obligations over the next month leading up to the half marathon.

The upcoming weekends are going to be hectic, but my thoughts focused on the concern of the moment. How were my legs?

A few minor aches and twinges. But a lot better.

After pondering life's questions big and small and staring into the darkness for an hour, the clock said 5:00.

Let’s run.

Got out the door and, indeed, I felt pretty good.

Take it easy, take it easy. Just work out a few kinks.

After about a mile, I took stock and found no aches and plenty of juice. Set it on cruise control. The schedule called for six. I was thinking I would do about four. But at the two-mile turnaround, I felt so good that I decided to press onward. Maybe 5? Aww, what the heck. Let’s do 6.

As it turned out, the last mile felt a little sluggish. But it was good to get out there.

I was heading out of town later that morning for a business trip. Stretching my legs felt good as I faced the prospect of a three-hour drive. Now we’ll get to see whether I am truly back in action as I go for 10 to 12 on Saturday.

Pffft

Amazing how much can be masked by a surge of adrenaline and the glow of good feelings.

As I floated through the rest of the day Monday pondering my PR, I thought my legs felt pretty good. Maybe I could run the 6 miles on the schedule for Tuesday. I tossed the football around out front with the little Ozling and puttered around the house.

Then about 5 o’clock, my vibrant legs suddenly turned into sluggish tubes of sand. The power of adrenaline eventually wears off. Not surprisingly, I was tired.

I slept in on Tuesday and took the day off from running. When I went out today, I felt a little sluggish, but not too bad. I took it easy for the first one or two miles and then I started feeling good. I got into a rhythm and moved nicely through 4 ½.

Then….pfft. Like air leaving a tire, the energy seeped out of my legs. Moving up a slight incline took a lot of effort. I just dialed it back – or at least I thought I did. The Garmin now shows I was running sub-9-minute miles – and tried to focus on my form and finish the run.

As I clocked 6 miles I was about half a mile from home. I walked it in.

The schedule called for 6 miles on Tuesday and 6 on Thursday. I was thinking I might do 6 and 6 on Wednesday and Thursday, rest Friday and then do my long run on Saturday.

We’ll have to see. I think I’ll let my legs be the guide when I wake up tomorrow rather than obsessively follow the mandate of a piece of paper.

Was it the shoes?

Throughout the summer I have been doing mental checks comparing how I feel this year versus last. Less pain. Stronger. Feeling good.

Today I had a chance to test myself. I passed.

We have a local race that offers a good chance to post a fast time. It’s a fairly flat course at the Headache and Pain Center Labor Day 5K in Leawood, Kansas.

I wanted to run at least 7:15 miles today.

At mile 1 I checked the Garmin and it showed a 7:03. So far so good. A little too fast?

The course started in a park. As we were heading down the entrance road, a deer poked her head out of a line of bushes. Startled to see the thundering herd of runners, the doe freaked out, bolted from the bushes and then ran away. An unusual sight for a road race.

We had to do a u-turn at about 1.6 miles. I slowed down a little, but then picked up the pace. I clocked mile No. 2 in 7:05. Still feeling good. How much is left in the tank?

How do I feel? Pretty good. Hmmmm. Let’s maintain pace. Maybe turn it up a notch?

I cranked it up and ran hard. Not all out, but I was cruising. Started to feel the energy fade in the last couple tenths of a mile. Then I heard the cries of encouragement from the Oz family and some members from The Runner’s Edge group I run with on Saturdays.

Suck it up. Turn on the jets, at least as much jets as this middle-of-the-pack runner can claim.

I was hoping to do better than last year’s 22:19. I saw the clock ticking toward 22. Push, push, push.

The new Mizunos feel a lot lighter than my old pair.

I crossed in 21:57. I’ll take it.

Call me Mr. Sunshine

My fears that I would be stricken with a case of the flying yarkies, a severe bout of the trots or just a nasty round of strep throat were overly alarmist.

No huge surprise.

I must admit a tendency to imagine the worst and then almost experience surprise when it doesn't turn out that badly. I know. I'm a regular Mr. Sunshine, no? A massive tree in the back yard -- an elm, I think -- has been shedding huge swaths of bark from various limbs. I was convinced the thing was a goner. Visions of huge limbs crashing down on our roof, taking down power lines, have played out in my head countless numbers of times. When the time comes to chop the sucker down, it's going to cost some bigtime cash.

Mrs. Oz had the tree guy come over to take a look at our Maple zapped during the storm the other day. She wanted to make sure it was stable. Turns out the Maple is going to be fine. The elm is OK, too. Several limbs were trimmed improperly by previous owners, exposing sheets of bark to the elements in a way that allows rain to soak in and cause the bark to depart. The tree should be fine, according to the tree guy.

The weather finally broke. Hooray for fall. What a beautiful morning. Ran 9 miles in DeSoto, Kansas. What a cool trail. Fun run. Love the new shoes. They feel so light. I'm feeling good as I get ready for Monday's Labor Day 5K.

The trees are fine. The Oz family had some minor upset tummies and some mildly sore throats for a few days. Fall is here.

We've avoided disaster.

For now. (Just kidding.) (Sort of.)

Stay strong

Uh oh.

It’s only been a week or so since we sent the Ozlings back to that big germ incubator known as school. But it looks like they might already have brought home a virus or something.

One Ozling has been coughing at night and the other one complained of a sore throat yesterday. Mrs. Oz said her throat is starting to hurt a little.

Me? I’m in denial.

I’ve got a half marathon to train for and a hectic work schedule. I’m signed up for a fun 5K on Labor Day. Don’t have time for any of that illness foolishness.

Then I woke up this morning. Had to admit my throat was scratchy. The schedule only called for four miles this morning. Good thing. The run went well, but I barely made it home in time to dash to the john. Another sign that things aren't quite right. Yikes.

I am going to go pop at least 500 mg of vitamin C and swill Orange juice today like a frat boy drinks beer on a Friday night.

Around and around he goes

A veteran bartender offered me some sage advice one summer when I was working at a bar and grill during college. Don’t mix drinks. If you start the evening drinking tequila, stick with it. If you are going with wine, drink wine.

Fill an evening’s activities with a little tequila, some bourbon, some wine and trouble is sure to find you.

It was good advice.

Hope it doesn’t apply to running shoes.

I logged 400 miles on my Sauconys and it was time to get a new pair. I went to my local running store and the shoe guru had me walk around a bit so he could check out my feet. I had been in a motion-control shoe and he said that seemed like overkill. I could use a stability shoe, he said.

So after trying on four pairs, I picked some Mizunos that seemed to offer the best fit.

I took them out for a spin on a local high school track this morning. The shoe store will exchange them if they are not too dinged up. They felt pretty good. Plus, they seem to weigh less than my old pair.

The rubberized surface was probably good for the shoes, my feet and knees. But going around, and around, and around in a circle about made me go crazy. Only did 3.2 miles, but that was plenty.

After all the foot trouble and other assorted problems I had last year, I am nervous about changing brands of shoes in the middle of training. The Sauconys seemed to be working OK.

But I am going to take the guru’s advice and stick with the Mizunos. Let’s hope things end up better with this than the result of a night out on the town swilling margaritas, Jack and Cokes and a gin and tonic for good measure.

Don't abandon the Bolognese

When lightning struck, I was in the kitchen stirring the Bolognese sauce.

Whump!!!

WTF?, I thought after hearing that strange sound and then looked out our double glass doors to the back yard to see nothing but leaves and branches.

Last Sunday we had an adventure thanks to a fast-moving and brief thunderstorm. A zap from the heavens struck our silver Maple, sending a big honkin’ branch down on our deck and part of our roof. Lovely.

Mrs. Oz was all atwitter, urging me to join her in the backyard immediately to pull the limbs and branches off our deck and roof. The branches aren’t going anywhere, I assured her. My Bolognese sauce required attention at the moment.

I encouraged Mrs. Oz to take the camera out back to document the destruction in case we would need to file a claim. Seemed to satisfy her urge for action.

So I remained at my post, tending to that evening’s dinner. Once the sauce was under control and simmering, I turned down the heat, adjusted the lid just so and grabbed my bow saw in the garage.

After a few strategic cuts, I was able to drag the biggest branches off our wounded deck and dinged roof. I set them aside as a task for another day.

Then I returned inside. Cooked some pasta, adjusted the final seasoning of the sauce, and sliced some baguette. And dinner was served.

Not two minutes after placing the pasta-filled bowls on the table…. Bang!! Zzzzt. A transformer down the road blew. No power. Electricity would not be restored until 4 o’clock the next morning. The Oz family dined by candlelight.

Was an interesting display of how we all respond to a crisis and where we place our priorities. Not exactly sure what it indicated, but I was intent on enjoying the Pasta Bolognese I had been craving for weeks no matter what chaos raged outside my door.

After all the excitement last Sunday, I had a great week or running. I was true to the schedule, logging an easy 4-miler on Monday, 7 on Tuesday and 6 on Thursday. Saturday I did 12 on the Little Blue Trace trail out in Independence.

Still a little hot and steamy, but the weather finally broke, giving us at least 10 to 15 degrees cooler temperatures than we have had through much of August.

Today I had hoped to squeeze in a bike ride. But instead I devoted my time and energy to cross-training with my bow saw and the monstrous pile of limbs and branches Mother Nature left for me a week ago.

It's crowded in there

A pair of siblings from the Running Blog Family has been rattling around inside my head lately.

Danielle and Leah chronicled recent leave-it-all-out-on-the-course-and-then-some race experiences. They are a couple of gutsy athletes. Their reports were inspiring. Their reports were scary.

They psyched me out.

I must admit to a phobia. If it were given an official name, it probably would go by the moniker of emptytankaphobia. I fear running out of gas while on a run. I worry a bit on a long training run, but it really grips me during a race.

As a result, as I start to sense fatigue, I dial it back. Often I am too cautious. I have finished many a run thinking that I still had plenty of gas left over.

It even happened a little during the recent Race for the Cure 5K. The race was crowded. I lined up near the front of the pack, but still encountered walkers and slow, slow runners clogging up the road during the first couple of miles. Not a big deal. I realize the Komen runs are more community events than real races. That’s fine. It’s a great cause and I love to participate. I was glad for the chance to expose the little Ozlings to the experience.

Still, I wanted to push myself. I wove through the crowd as much as possible.

I felt good and was moving at a decent pace, 7:29 the first mile and 7:25 the second. Then I encountered some decent hills. And the hot sun. I felt my energy start to fade. Not a lot. Not so much that I was worried about my ability to finish. But I dialed it back. At least a little.

I did the last mile in 7:40. And I did the final .15 of a mile in a little over a minute. I logged a 23:39 for the race, according to my unofficial timekeeping on my Garmin. Not terrible for me considering the crowd and the heat. But it was more than a minute slower than a 5K I did last fall. I am in better shape now. I should have done better.

Leah and Danielle and many other athletes manage to push through the pain and discomfort. They pay their dues with determined training. Then they cash in with performances that can make them proud.

I’ve got to find a way to come out on top with my head games. My heart and legs feel stronger and stronger as I log the miles this summer.

Now if I could only find a way to strengthen my mind.

Look at me, I'm a quadrathlete!

Yes, indeed, I’m a four sporter.

If you count my activities over the entire weekend. And if you are generous in your definition of athletic endeavors.

On Saturday I ran for 12 miles. Hot. Steamy. Hilly. The other runners in my group were training for fall marathons so they were going long Saturday. I was just doing 12. So I said goodbye to them at mile 6, wishing them a good run and then turning around. I was feeling quite pleased with myself. I felt good. I felt strong. Then along about mile 8, whoa. Where did all my energy go? It turned into a bit more of a struggle. I guzzled Gatorade and dumped cool water on my head at the last two water stops. My right foot started to hurt. Now cut that out.

I gritted through it, though. Finished the run and headed home.

That’s when my generous-definition of the fourth sport took place. I have an old friend from high school who is visiting the area and we invited his family to join us for dinner on Monday. That meant that an intense burst of honey-dos and housecleaning were the order of the day for Saturday and Sunday. Scrubbing toilets, mowing the yard, putting together some new dining room chairs, grocery shopping and cooking dinner for my mother in-law on Saturday (The menu: grilled flank steak with greens on bruschetta, peas and mixed mushroom pasta, and a delicious Malbec to wash it down. I have been on fire as the Oz-family chef, lately, if I do say so myself.). All the activities took a toll. I was a tired beast.

Then Sunday afternoon. The third sport, sort of. Swimming. The Ozlings were overflowing with energy. The littlest Ozling could not sit still to save his life. Running in the dining room. Running in the living room. We had to do something to channel all that energy or he was going to get in trouble. Family tension was higher than normal. It was hot outside. Let’s go to the pool. Granted, I didn’t exactly put myself through any strenuous lap swimming, but I was in the water, swimming about with the Ozlings. And watching the little guy go off the high dive. Speaking of that, earlier this week we had a bit of high-dive drama. The little Ozling intentionally did a belly flop off ….the High Dive! Why? To impress an older girl.

The move elicited differing reactions in our household. Did you cry? I asked. No. Awesome! That must have been cool. What were you thinking? Mrs. Oz asked. You could have broken ribs, you could have been hurt.

Then today I had a more legitimate fourth sport. I had the day off from work so I got reacquainted with another old friend, my bike. Did 15 miles. It was hot. It was steamy. But it felt great. Once again, I am amazed at how good it feels to hop on the bike when my legs are sore and tight from running…and housework.

You probably won’t see this four-sport combination in the next Olympics. But if they add the competition, I am sure to be a contender.

Put the HoHos down and back away

I was a bad boy.

But it felt, I mean tasted, so good. I’ll probably be bad again. Maybe soon. Is that so wrong?

Yesterday, I fell off the healthy diet wagon and sank my teeth into a very juicy burger. With blue cheese. And bacon. I did go with the sweet potato fries, but I am doubtful that made the meal exactly heart healthy.

I don’t really think it’s bad to splurge on a decadent meal now and again. But I am struggling a bit on the food front these days.

As I have ramped up the mileage this summer, the intensity of the internal furnace powering my body has risen, as well. I can imagine a crew down there shoveling fuel into the flames as fast as they can. “She’s giving all she’s got! More fuel! More fuel!” they cry.

The upshot of this is that I am hungrier and hungrier. Nearly all the time.

At home I can keep this somewhat under control. We have been enjoying bunches of salads and fresh tomatoes this summer. I am making sure to keep the fruit bowl well stocked so that I grab a piece for a snack instead of heading to the ice cream in the freezer or a bag of chips. I tossed some veggie crumbles in the pasta sauce the other night and ground turkey tacos are a frequent menu item.

But during the day at work? Basically it’s a nutritional disaster.

If I don’t pack a lunch, more often than not I find myself chomping on a Philly steak sandwich, a burger or some other pile of cheese-topped gooeyness. Then only a few hours later, the vending machines start to call out. “Halloooo! You are hungry, right? We have food! Come and get it!”

No, I reply. Usually to myself.

“Oh come on! Grab a few coins and pay us a visit.”

Oh, OK. Maybe some crackers or something. Wait a minute. Are those HoHos?….hmmm…How about a nice bottle of Coke to wash it down. Then later as I look at the empty bottle and crumpled wrapper on my desk, I wonder, what have I done?

It’s not a weight thing. I have been consistent with the running, so even with the snack binges and poor lunch choices I have been shedding pounds this summer. It’s a heart thing. It’s an overall health thing.

Why am I able to show such discipline with the running, but then fall down when it comes to eating?

Let's go for a 10-mile swim, er, run

Well, no new major incidents of family drama to report in the past 24 hours.

Maybe I am setting the bar too low in terms of expectations, but I’ll take it.

Had a great run today. So many people in the group were away on summer vacation this morning that I found myself in an unusual position: pace group leader.

The half dozen or so folks training at a 10-minute-per-mile pace took off with me in the lead. I kept glancing at my Garmin to make sure I wasn’t taking the group out too fast until we warmed up. I was aiming for as much as an 11-minute pace over the first mile. We clocked it at 10:24. Second mile was a bit under 10. Sorry about that. Then we steadily logged a few 10-minute miles, nearly right on the dot.

The humidity was intense. At times it felt as if we were swimming, rather than just running.

Still, it felt good. On the way back, I even kicked it into a higher gear a little. The group largely had dwindled away by that point. A few were running longer than 10. Two others took a side trip to use the facilities nearby. Another slowed down quite a bit, saying he was tired. I took off on my own, posting several sub-9-minute miles.

I am feeling strong. A few twinges in my feet, now and then, but so far nothing too serious. A heck of a lot better than this time last summer, that's for sure. It intrigues me to think how I might perform in a race. I did go ahead and get signed up for the Komen Race for the Cure run in a few weeks.

Should be fun.

Pavement psychotherapy

My mind is a jumbled mess.

I haven’t slept all that much the past couple of nights.

My Dad is 1,000 miles away and his health is slipping. My step-mom has a flair for melodrama and doesn’t share a lot of details – a great combination. When she does offer an update, I am not sure whether it is understated or hyperbole.

My Mom, who is 1,000 miles on the other side of the country, is in the process of losing her apartment and this week she lost her job.

A good friend just found out his wife has cancer.

Relative to these other issues, this may seem ridiculous, but the doping-mired Tour de France also is really bothering me. It has been an Oz family tradition for years to follow those amazing bike riders on their race through France. I would read up during the day and then provide an update to the Ozlings at dinner that night about the latest stage. Last year was a punch to the gut when Floyd Landis won, but then was cast under a cloud of shame for a positive doping test. Now, this year the debacle that has become the race is absolutely unbelievable.

Unable to do much about all of this, it felt good to get out on the roads this week. Often my mind raced from issue to issue, large and small, as I logged the miles. As much as I could, I tried to concentrate on the rhythmic beat of my feet, hoping to get lost in some sort of Zen moment that would ease my worries.

Had a good 7-miler on Tuesday and today I did 5. I’ll rest up tomorrow and then see if I can’t do a 10-miler on Saturday to finish the week strong.

Play Ball!

Looks like I am not the only endurance athlete in the Oz family. Last night, the littlest Ozling played a T-ball doubleheader in the blazing heat. Brutal.

I would rather go for a 10-mile run. Those dudes were tuckered out by the end of the night.

When the first Ozling arrived – nine years ago this coming week -- some of my buddies asked if I was disappointed that I was not having a son. Crazy talk. She was immediately, has been and is a gigantic joy in my life. We’ve had a blast, reading together, camping together, playing sports together, talking and joking together, working on various school projects together and cooking together. Then a couple years later when we were awaiting the arrival of her brother, my buddies resumed their chatter along the lines of, “I’ll bet you are glad you finally are getting a son.” More crazy talk. Frankly, I thought it would have been cool for our Ozlings to know the special bond of sisters. But I really didn’t care. Girl. Boy. Whatever. As long as he or she was healthy, we were blessed.

Emotions triggered by baseball this summer have taken me a bit by surprise.

I enjoy the game, follow the local teams and like to get out to a few games each season. But I can’t claim it as my passion.

Yet, standing in the front yard having a catch with my boy has been amazing. What a difference between last summer, when he was five, and this year. He’s been so focused on how to position the glove just right so he can snag the ball. “Back up!” he implores. “Throw it really, really far.” I do. More often than not….he snares it. And when he throws it? The kid’s got a bit of a gun.

Sometimes I’ll persuade my daughter to join me. She can catch. She can blast the ball with the bat. But she often looks like she is out there to please me. Not because of an inner joy beckoning her to play.

Feeling a ball thrown by my son smack into my mitt. Watching him take a practice swing, then position the bat just right, take a breath and then – as his coach implores, “load and then explode” – boom the ball. Seeing him act like a human vacuum cleaner on first base. Or grinning at him as he begs to bat last so in the everybody-bats-each-inning-T-ball league he can smack the ball and run all the bases with abandon as if he just crushed a grand slam…

It all just…..makes my spirit soar.

23 miles in two days

Yesterday I ran 10 miles and today I followed it up with another 13. No, I haven’t completely lost my mind. Today’s outing was on my bike.

All this talk about triathlons and biking got me intrigued. Not enough to sign up for a tri, but this morning I did reintroduce myself to my bicycle. Yes, there literally were cobwebs down by the pedals. And the frame was a bit dusty. I might have taken it out once in the spring, but otherwise this was the maiden voyage of the season. Pathetic.

The time required for a bike workout has been one of the biggest obstacles. I started thinking last night about sneaking away for a ride today. This morning I whipped up a batch of pancakes, mixed-fruit topping and sausage for Mrs. Oz and the Ozlings. Hoping that might have bought a little goodwill from the family and a morning pass out of the house, I then pumped up the tires, strapped on my helmet and cruised away.

It felt great. In addition to the enjoyment from soaking up some rays and feeling the breeze on my face, this seemed to be the best stretching regime I have tried in a long time. As I pedaled down, sometimes I would keep my leg extended and then drop my foot for an extra stretch of my calf and Achilles while I coasted. How’s that for multi-tasking?

I wound my way over to a trail running through Kansas City’s Waldo and Brookside neighborhoods. The Trolley Trail took me north to the Nelson Atkins Museum and its semi-bizarre outdoor sculptures in the shape of giant badminton shuttlecocks.

Sharing the trail with walkers – both of the two-legged and four-legged variety – runners and a few other bikers was a new experience. I don’t exactly have what you would call fast closing speed while running so a flopping of my feet a bit louder than usually tends to offer plenty of warning to others as I approach. On the bike, though, as I approached someone from behind I would call out a calm “On your left.” Many of the walkers and runners had iPod’s crammed into their ears and were oblivious to my presence. A few dog owners continued to let Fido roam widely on the leash, creating a fun obstacle for me to dodge. One walker offered a “good morning” as I passed and another thanked me for the alert, saying he wished more bikers would do the same. Too bad trail courtesy is in such short supply.

I’ll be curious to see how my legs feel in the morning. I logged 13 miles in a little over an hour. Didn't really push the pace, but I worked it a bit on some of the uphills. I probably will be up for the easy three miler called for on the schedule in the morning, though I might rest the legs if they are feeling zapped.