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.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
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!
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!
Thursday, November 22, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, November 12, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
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.”
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.”
Monday, November 05, 2007
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…..
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…..
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