Running In Oz

Marathon Redemption

2008-11-04T08:55:00.002-06:00

Two weeks later I look down at the medal they draped around my neck after I crossed the finish line and I still smile.

I'm a marathoner. I've got the bling to prove it.

Two years ago I started a marathon, but did not finish. Believe me, the sting of a DNF after running 19 miles lingers for a long time.

A few injuries and tweaks here and there this time around, but for the most part I kept the wheels on the wagon.

My longest training runs were a couple of 20 milers, the second one was absolutely fantastic. But I still wasn't sure whether I could do 26.2.

When race day for the Kansas City Marathon came on Oct. 18, I was eager. And ready.

My goal was to finish. If the day was going well, under 4 hours would be great. If not, just finish, at least faster than Oprah. Oprah Winfrey is a marathoner, finishing the 1994 Marine Corps Marathon in 4:29:15.

I finished. I whomped Oprah. I broke 4 hours. I still almost can't believe it.

This race was important to me. So very important.

It may be silly, but the pain, mostly emotional, still stings from the Milwaukee marathon a couple years ago. I was injured, sure. But I have been beating myself up for not getting it done. Not finishing what I started.

I started the Kansas City run with a huge monkey on my back. Think gorilla-sized. Maybe even King Kong.

That dude is heavy. It took me 26.2 miles to shake him, but I did it. Left that sucker on the ground.

As for many other areas of my life at the moment, I am not exactly maintaining a steady pace. Work, family and other aspects are filled with way too much drama and uncertainty. I may even be suffering from a bit of burnout. My running has provided much needed solace.

Didn't really mean to declare radio silence on the blog, but that was one item that had to be pushed aside for the moment.

I've strapped on the Mizunos a few times since the marathon and it's been somewhat of a struggle. My knees ached. My legs felt dead.

Went out this morning and felt more life in my legs than I have for quite some time. Maybe my body is starting to bounce back.

You know what that means.

Time to pick another goal and start training for another marathon.

More mind games for marathoners

2008-09-01T16:16:00.002-05:00

Something is different this year.

I blew off a race today.

The Labor Day 5K in Leawood drew me to the starting line each of the past couple of years. It’s a flat and fast course. Last year I PR’d.

I have been thinking about the race, and even encouraging others to partake. But this morning, I laced up the Mizunos and headed out. For a semi-long run.

My work schedule this week is going to play havoc with my running schedule. So I wanted to be sure to get my runs in. The idea of a 5K sprint just wasn’t appealing.

All of my running focus at the moment is on Oct. 18. The Kansas City Marathon.

I am obsessed with redeeming myself. Two years ago I attempted a full marathon. It didn’t work out so well. Looking back, I realize now, I started the summer with an overuse injury.

Guess what? Logging lots and lots of miles and running longer than I had ever run before in my life was not a good strategy for healing. 19 miles into the marathon in 2006 I was limping. Big time.

DNF city. And the demons of self-loathing and self-doubt have been running wild inside my mind ever since.

This summer, I have been feeling much, much better. I have been logging my miles, focused on the fall. My previous marathon failure, though, has left me toting around a bunch of extra emotional baggage. As strong as I feel at the moment, will I really be able to get it done -- finally -- in October?

I know I should weave in some speed work. But this morning, I was much more focused on getting in a solid 8 miles with hope of making me stronger for Oct. 18.

A runner's recovery week

2008-08-07T06:49:00.001-05:00

What a beautiful morning for a run.

I sure do love cutback weeks. The training schedule seems to have this build-you-up, slap-you-down rhythm to it.

Last week I missed a run – my stomach was churning through the night and I just didn’t hit the streets last Thursday – but still put in a respectable distance. Plus, last Saturday I did 16 miles in the blazing heat.

By Monday I was feeling a bit as if I had been hit by a bus.

Then the training schedule decided I had been slapped down enough.

Monday was a light few miles. Tuesday called for 6. This morning when I went out for 4, I found more pop in my legs than I had all summer.

It was amazing. The 65-degree temperature and the gorgeous sunrise weren’t bad, either.

Like I said before, what a beautiful morning for a run.

Of course I'm a little crazy. I'm a runner

2008-07-24T21:25:00.001-05:00

Hi everybody. I’m Oz Runner.

“Hello, Oz,” they reply.

I’m a Garmin-o-holic.

“That’s OK. We know what you are going through. We are here for you. Admitting you have a problem is the first step.”

Um, it’s not really a problem. As long as my Garmin works.

Today, my little buddy behaved like the good Garmin Forerunner I have known and loved for the past year and a half. 6 miles run. 6 miles recorded. 6 miles downloaded to the computer.

I love this guy, in a manly, recognizing it is – mostly – an inanimate object sort of way. It just seems like he really gets me.

Before my Garmin came into my life, I never was very diligent about keeping a running log. Sure, it is kind of fun to relive your training run while moving the computer mouse around the course on something like mapmyrun.com to figure out how far I went.

Or you can always drive along a running route before or after a run to check your mileage. Oh boy, that sure is a blast.

Not anymore do I have to do such things. No sir. I’ve got my Garmin.

On a whim, not really planning what route I need to run, I can get a quick glance at the training schedule, head out the door and create a route on the fly to hit just the distance I need that day.

OK, I recognize I can get a bit obsessive about this thing at times. On my weekly group runs, for example, sometimes according to my personal Garmin, I will come up short by a tenth, or maybe two-tenths of a mile from the 10, 12 or 14 miles or whatever I was supposed to run that day. Maybe my GPS was a bit off from the Garmin of the guy who plotted the course, maybe I cut some corners or maybe I just got off track by turning my Garmin off when coming in for a water stop, then walking a bit and then restarting it.

Sure, I try to be casual at the end of the run and all as I stop, sip a cup of Gatorade and chat with my fellow runners for a bit. And yes, then I have been known to run in the parking lot to get my full tenth or two-tenths of a mile in. Once I even drove home, then ran in front of my house for one-tenth of a mile.

It’s just so magical when my little buddy beeps and displays the completion of another full mile. Yes, it’s silly. I’m probably a little crazy. But I am a runner. Aren’t we all at least a little bit crazy?

My Garmin ate my homework, er, training run

2008-07-23T21:31:00.004-05:00

I haven’t trotted out the-dog-ate-my-homework excuse since, oh, about the fifth grade.

While it didn’t work so well with Ms. Chase – she sure was a great teacher, but she didn’t put up with any nonsense – I am forced to try again. You gotta believe me. I did the work, but it just disappeared.

This time the culprit isn’t my once-beloved St. Bernard – you can’t imagine the size of the goobers that dog could produce, but I digress – but my Garmin.

Yes, yesterday I put in my miles. Seven of them. Really.

But then as I went through my morning routine – sitting around waiting for the sweat to stop dripping off my body so I could take a shower, brewing a pot of coffee, checking in on the Tour de France (Go Garmin!) – I plugged in my Forerunner 205 into my PC.

Got the electronic beep that said it was downloading the latest running history. But when I clicked into the chart……it wasn’t there!!!

What the heck?! It was like my seven miles in 1 hour and 6 minutes on a hot, steamy summer morning – July 22 to be exact – never happened. The sweat definitely was dripping off my nose so I know I ran. The hallucinations don’t usually cause me any problems until I am about 16 miles into a training run on a 90-degree morning in August. But the computerized chart wasn’t there.

Guess I am not the only one struggling to get out of no running vacation mode. Do you think the Forerunner is pouting because I only took him on one run while out in Colorado?

I had another dog once who hated to be left behind at home when I went out for a run. Even as Jesse aged and started dealing with a little arthritis that slowed his pace considerably, the dog went crazy if I put on my running shoes and didn’t grab the leash to take him along. Sometimes I would have to take him out for a warm-up mile, drop him off back at home and then finish my long run.

That dog was high maintenance. I sure hope my Garmin buddy gets back to his grab-and-go self by the morning. We’ve got to log 6 miles, according to the schedule. It’s time to get serious about training and, like Ms. Chase so many years ago, I’m not inclined to put up with this nonsense.

“The Garmin ate your training run?” I can hear her say, the scowl forming on her face. “Yeah right.”

High-altitude cross training

2008-07-20T16:49:00.002-05:00

So there I was, 10,000 feet up, and staring at my running shoes. My running shoes stared back.

And I didn’t go running.

It was vacation, after all. I didn’t mean to take a vacation from running. It just sort of worked out that way.

Last week I flew to Denver with a mob of family members. Between aunts, uncles, cousins, a grandmother and a very good family friend, we just about had enough people for our own traveling circus.

On the first day, I did strap on my Mizunos and go for a run around Denver. I cruised by Coors Field, the Lower Downtown area and then back up the state capitol.

Felt pretty good considering that I was a mile above sea level. It also was fun to get the runner’s view-vantage point to see how much my hometown has changed over the years.

But then we piled into a couple of vans and headed for the high country. Stayed in a cabin that was at least 9,000 feet high with a few dirt roads and a bunch of rocky trails nearby.

Between all of the horseback riding, river rafting and hiking – I did do a bunch of mondo hikes – I just didn’t make the time for a morning run. Best hike of the week: A steep, winding three-mile trail that takes you from the rim of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison down to a beautiful secluded reservoir. Then, of course, after visiting the site known as Hermit’s Rest, my son and I had to drag ourselves back up. The 7-year-old Ozling and his love of hiking in the mountains and fierce determination left his Daddy proud.

I drank more beer in the past week than I have in the past six months. Maybe as many as three or four for the week. I didn’t end up paying too big a price. Only came back with a couple more pounds than I left with.

My training schedule was waiting for me upon my return. It’s only a piece of paper, but I think it was glaring at me.

I realize I can’t get this week of training back. It’s important, I realize. Just before I left, I did take the plunge and sign up for one of those lengthy fall races.

Definitely time to get back to work.

Can we just call this past week a bout of high-altitude cross training?

An oasis for runners

2008-07-08T07:12:00.001-05:00

I figured something out this morning.

You’ll probably think it’s silly that I haven’t noticed before now.

But here it is: I’m not a camel.

No, really. I just checked. I looked in the mirror – it was kind of hard to turn my head around to the back, but I did it – and found that I didn’t have any humps. Not even one.

So, I must ask myself, why have I been wandering in the desert without any water?

Well, in this case the desert consists of the streets in my neighborhood that I use to piece together routes of a few miles during the weeks. But on these steamy summer mornings, I might as well be running in a desert.

Hydration is important under those conditions. But I never liked to carry water. The sloshing in the bottles drove me nuts. Trying to stash bottles along my route didn’t really work all that well either.

I saw those runner’s fuel belts, but they always looked uncomfortable. I know how bad it feels when my shirt rubs in the wrong places. Can’t imagine what my hips would look life after five miles of chafing against a fuel belt.

But then I saw one of those Amphipod belts. I got a small one a while back to stash my cell phone in on longer runs. My ankle had a nasty run in with a pot hole a few years back and I made the not-wise decision to walk back home, more than a mile. I decided that if I ever have another problem like that again, I want to be able to get on the cell phone and call the Mrs. Oz taxi to come pick me up. But I digress.

The point is, the Amphipod belt worked great. No chafing. It made me start wondering, hmmmm….look at that other Amphipod belt that comes with a form-fitting water bottle tilted to the side. Bet that wouldn’t slosh too crazily.

I picked it up, admiring it, each time I went into the local running store over the past month. Price seemed a bit steep, but I finally brought one home.

It was amazing this morning as I took it along and was able to take a few gulps of water at two miles, then again at four. I didn’t feel nearly as run down at the end of the run.

So, to review, here are the big lessons: 1. I am not a camel. 2. Runner’s need water.

Give me time. I just might start to figure out some of this running stuff. Eventually.

Runners and peer pressure

2008-07-05T19:01:00.000-05:00

Don’t know if I set a very good example for the Ozlings this morning.

They both still are in elementary school, but we already have been warning them about the evil pull of peer pressure and, more importantly, how to resist.

Some of your so-called friends, we say, eventually may offer you drugs (“No, not like the ibuprofen daddy pops like M&M’s after a long run. Some drugs aren’t really medicine and don’t come from the doctor,” I say), some may offer you alcohol (“Yes, little Ozling, no need to be alarmed that daddy is drinking a couple of glasses of wine with dinner tonight. The kind of alcohol your “friends” may offer is different,” I say, drifting off for a moment as I recall various dalliances in the past – it really was a long time ago -- with wine coolers, pitchers of beer and the occasional pitcher of Kamikazes…..Mmmm, Kamikazes…), and some may offer you various forms of inappropriate hanky panky (“Umm, we aren’t going to get into the details of this just yet. Probably not a problem because I don’t think you are going to be allowed to date boys until you are 35, maybe 38,” I tell my little blonde daughter of an Ozling.)

But if the Ozlings’ peers offer them miles, my advice definitely is going to have to be of the do as I say, not as I do variety. Anybody offers me the chance to run a few extra miles, I obviously have no defenses.

I can’t explain it. This morning, I clearly gave in to peer pressure.

The all-important schedule for the race that has yet to be officially entered called for 12 or 14 miles this morning. I still am trying to be cautious and pretty much had decided I would put in a respectable 12 as I drove to the group run this morning.

Then as we all said our typical “Good Mornings” and exchanged our “How far are you goings?” a trio of the folks I typically run with all said 14. “I was thinking 12,” I said, “but what the heck? I’ll join you for 14.”

That’s how it starts, I guess.

My mother always wondered if all my friends jumped off a cliff into a lake, would I join them? Guess I proved this morning what kind of stuff I am made of. No making up my own mind and remaining true to my convictions for me. No siree. If my buddies ever went flying off a tall cliff, I clearly would find myself floating in air, screaming “Cowabunga!!!” before it dawned on me, “What did I just do?”

Guess I’ll need to be careful in the future if I ever see my pals going for a hike along a trail flanked by high cliffs and steep drop offs. And I’ll definitely need to make sure I stay away from the guys in the Saturday morning group who are training for an ultra marathon.

“How far are you going?” I might ask. “Oh, 24, 25,” they’ll reply. “Want to join us?”

Yikes.

Mid-Year Running Check-up

2008-07-01T17:27:00.003-05:00

Time to go to work.

Now that we are a full six months into the year, thought I would check in to see how I am doing on the goal of 1,000 miles for the year.

Turns out I’m behind schedule. But not by too much.

Through Monday I’ve logged 499.6 miles so far in 2008.

I’ve got plans to get in the other 500.4 – and then some – as I am ramping up the weekly mileage. Just started a marathon training program.

Should keep me out of trouble this summer.

I don’t have a completed entry blank for a fall race where I can put all this training to use just yet.

In the meantime I’ll just strap on the hard hat, pack a lunch pail – and lace up the Mizunos – and go to work.

Overconfidence is bad, bad, bad...

2008-06-08T16:04:00.005-05:00

We are big fans of the checklist here in the house of Oz. I used to scoff at such things, but I’ve definitely come around.

I’ve got the grocery checklist to guide the weekly purchase of peanut butter, Eggoes and other assorted staples.

We’ve got a checklist to make sure we bring all of the proper camping equipment so we have a tent, wine, cooking stuff and food. We definitely don’t want to be left foraging for nuts and berries when attempting to survive in the wilderness.

I don’t have a race-day checklist, but maybe that needs to change. If I had one before leaving the house for Saturday’s Hospital Hill Half Marathon it would have looked like the list above – and maybe it would have set off enough alarm bells that I actually would have remembered to bring a functioning brain. And, more importantly, leave the delusions at home.

Well, I didn’t. And as it turned out, Saturday was a bit of an adventure.

The running has been going so well this spring. Very well, if I do say so myself. The training has felt great. Each new race, it seemed, brought a new PR. What the heck, I thought. Let’s go for it at the Half Marathon.

The good men and women at Garmin were kind enough to help sponsor this race, which included fashioning teams of Garmin-equipped (an aside: the 405s are beyond cool….and way expensive) pace leaders.

I lined up at the start with the 1:50 pace group. At this point, if I had been in a scary horror movie, this is the part where people in the audience would start to scream: “He’s not really dead! Get out of the house while you still can! No, no, no, nooooo! Don’t open that door!”

Instead, it was a scary horror of a race reality show. Still, I could have used some audience members screaming at me. “It’s 80 degrees and what must be 200 percent humidity! What are you thinking?! This is the Hospital HILL run, remember? It has lots of HILLS! Get away from the 1:50 pace group while you still can!!!!!”

No such warning was shouted. So the horn went off. And we were on our way. At a freaking clip of about 8 minutes (the fastest) to 8:46 (the slowest) over the first 6 miles.

I chatted it up with the fellow members of the pace group. I felt superior and mighty as I heard fellow runners huffing and puffing severely. (That was some bad Karma that was going to come back and get me very soon). As we went up the first real hill. I wasn’t really out of breath. No pains. No problems. Or so I thought.

With the flick of a switch, my legs were gone. Turned to absolute jelly.

Uh oh.

“Oh yeah,” I thought. “This heat and sticky, sticky humidity is kind of ridiculous. In fact, this is really the first hot weather run of the year so my body isn’t exactly acclimatized to such conditions. I probably should have left some energy in reserve, going out slower then kicking it toward the end of the race. Whoops.”

It wasn’t just me. I noticed one of the two 1:50 pace group leaders at about the 8-mile mark. Someone saw the cute little Garmin-logoed “1:50” sign he was carrying and asked if he was still on pace.

“Not exactly,” he said. “I’m not having a very good day.”

Uh oh.

Mrs. Oz managed to catch a nasty cold. She didn’t look to be in any condition to leave the house when I walked out the door. So I was mighty surprised to see her whooping and hollering with the Ozlings just before the 9-mile mark.

I was feeling kind of low and spooked about whether I would have the energy to finish. A high-five from the littlest Ozling and a splash of ice-cold water from the bottle Mrs. Oz provided were amazing rejuvenators.

I gutted it out. My splits slowed quite a bit. It’s inevitable when you mix in some walking with the running.

The other runners on the course were awesome. With about a mile and a half to go, a runner came up behind me and shouted encouragement. “Let’s get it moving. We’re almost done.”

I jolted back into a trot. I pushed it for a while – the hill blessedly was pointing downward at the end of the race – but then began to slow just as the finish chute approached.

Another runner called out, “C’mon! Almost there. Don’t stop now!” I began to surge, noticing that my fellow runner then began to slow. “C’mon! We can both finish strong. Let’s go!,” I called out to him.

At this, we both kicked it. I had long ago given up any hope of a PR. Pretty much had given up on breaking 2 hours. Finish the race and avoid overheating so much I would get taken to the medical tent. That's not a terrible goal, right?

Then I looked up at the finish clock and saw that it said about 1:59:15.

I muttered an obscenity – can I blame it on my weakened condition and the nasty heat?—and then bolted for the finish line. I broke 2 hours with 32 seconds to spare.

So from now on I will rely on a race-day checklist. Or at least some common sense. Make sure my brain is functioning. And leave the delusions at home. Nasty hot days are not the times to pursue a PR.

Burns oil, but still running

2008-06-07T19:55:00.003-05:00

Cosmic coincidence? Maybe.

I choose to consider it part of the Universe’s ongoing plot to mess with my head.

The same week I mark another year on the planet, my beloved car – Ok, so it’s a 1998 Saturn and not necessarily beloved – decides to flip its odometer to 100,000 miles.

As I tend to do in these situations, I internalized the car’s mileage and considered it some sort of reflection on the hard driving I have put my body through over the past four decades.

That brings us to today’s half marathon.

I was feeling a bit like the oil-burning clunker that I drive to work. And I wanted to prove that I have some tread left on the tires and some giddy-up remaining in the engine.

Didn’t set any speed records – or even a PR – at the Hospital Hill Half Marathon. But in the 80-plus-degree heat and high humidity, I didn’t break down and need a tow to the finish line, either.
Still working on a race report. I did finally get to meet Topher and his family. He not only writes an award-winning blog, but he’s a heck of a nice guy and a good runner.

Taper madness

2008-06-04T07:58:00.002-05:00

Why is an idle runner's brain – OK, OK, this idle runner's brain – so
eager to hop on the crazy train at the first opportunity?

For weeks and weeks now I would look at the training schedule, see
that I was supposed to go 8 or 10 miles and think, "Oh, today's a
shorter day."

Then last night I was glancing at the course map for Saturday's half
marathon. "So there's the 1-mile marker, the 2, then the 3…..Yikes.
It's a long way until I even get to the half-way mark," I thought.

Guess my goofy psyche didn't want to wait until race day to let the
mind games begin.

I blame it on the tapering.

Running bunches and bunches of miles – or at least as close as this middle-of-the-packer gets with his training schedule – seems to be good for strengthening the heart, lungs and legs. It might not make my mind stronger, but it at least keeps the grey blob inside my head busy so it can’t make trouble.

I’m still debating whether to drive the course on Thursday or Friday before Saturday’s race. I did that last fall before running the Kansas City Half Marathon. Mostly it was helpful, but it did freak me out a little. Those hills were steep in the first few miles.

With a name like Hospital Hill Half Marathon, Saturday’s course, I realize, isn’t going to be as flat as a Kansas prairie filled with pretty sunflowers.

I am leaning toward a 13.1 mile drive so I can visualize my run and plan a little race-day strategy. Maybe something a little more sophisticated than go out too fast, burn lots of energy on the hills, bonk and then hang on until the finish.

So what do you think? Are the possible benefits of a little pre-race planning worth the risk of triggering a raging storm of I-think-I-can’t mind games?

Mystery runner race report

2008-05-27T20:31:00.006-05:00

She appeared out of nowhere and started asking me questions.

“How fast are you going to run it?”

I had been noodling over some possible times to shoot for, but I hadn’t dared write them down or even say them out loud. Then it would become an actual goal, a marker to measure my success – or failure.

“I want to come in under 40 minutes,” I replied, kind of taken aback about the forward question from someone I had never seen before but answering it anyway.

“A lot under 40?” she asked, but peppering me with “Are you going to go out too fast in the first mile?” before waiting for a response to the first query.

“Yeah, probably,” I said with a laugh. “I don’t mean to go out so fast, but a lot of times it happens that way.”

She had short gray hair. Seemed to be in her 50s. She talked some more, telling me she had run the Amy Thompson run on Memorial Day in Kansas City for years and years. We talked about how we probably shouldn’t start so far up in the pack, but it was a reasonable strategy or you just spend so much of the first mile or two using up energy, and taking time while weaving through folks who probably should have found a spot more suitable to their pace a little farther back.

I know I would just block the true rabbits in the race so I try to stay out of their way at the front.

Then, just before the gun went off, she walked away. Absorbed by the crowd so quickly that I almost wondered whether the woman actually had been by my side talking. Or if I had just imagined the entire conversation.

But the race was on. And, yes, I did say, “Holy Crap!” out loud when my Garmin beeped off the first-mile split. It was under 8. Shoot. It was under 7:30.

“Easy there, mister,” I admonished myself.

But I was doing OK. I kept checking my legs. They were pumping fairly well. A little tired from recent runs, but a decent level of energy.

I dialed it back a little. No need to flame out with a big surge too early.

Started feeling a little weary around mile 3. Not long after I saw some of the folks from my Saturday running group passing out water at an aid station. They shouted encouragement. They whooped. They hollered. One guy had on a grass hula skirt and a coconut bra.

I felt a surge of energy as I laughed my way down the road.

When I needed another boost I replayed my pre-run tunes inside my head. Liz Phair’s “Extraordinary” and “Stars and Planets” were blasting through my iPod in the car on the way to the race.

“the ones that shine the brightest aren’t stars at all, they’re the planets just like us….
And from big to small, we all shine, shine, shine…”

Checked out the Garmin. 4.3 miles. Come on. Push it. Push it. Just a little more.

As I looked up at the finishing clock, I pumped my fist. Came in under 40. I Blew that PR away. By nearly two minutes.

Before leaving the house, I had looked up my time in this race last year. And my all-time fastest 8K from Al’s Run in Milwaukee a few years back. I have been feeling strong and I was thinking about pursuit of a PR.

But I hadn’t really decided. In fact I was wavering. Then I committed by saying it out loud to an ethereal runner who was there one minute and then gone.

Who was that woman?

Laughing at the lightning

2008-05-24T10:03:00.002-05:00

Not sure whether it was faith or fear of self loathing.

Thunder rocked the house – and me awake – in the wee hours this morning. Crap, I thought, that’s going to be a fun run this morning.

The rain pounded on the roof. A giant flash of lightning illuminated our room and more thunder crackled outside.

Lightning already kept me off the streets one day this week. Not today, I thought.

I dragged myself out of bed.

Maybe it was faith that the skies would clear by the time I drove out to meet the Saturday morning group for our long run.

Or maybe it was fear that I would stay in bed, listen to the rain and then by the time I woke up I would see nothing but sunshine and blue sky, hating myself and my laziness for the rest of the long weekend.

Either way, I got out there. The group was quite a bit smaller. Maybe a bunch were scared away by the weather. Or maybe a bunch were just out of town.

The course had some monster hills again. My legs started feeling heavy. Thinking of my 8K on Monday, I decided to take it easy and save a little for the race in a couple days.

I logged 10 and a half and called it a day.

Now I can fire up the grill tonight, sip a beer or maybe a glass of wine – or both – with a clear conscience. Once again, I realize, it’s great to be a runner.

Taunted by thunder, tempted by dumb decisions

2008-05-23T07:39:00.001-05:00

Stay flexible and be prudent.

I’m trying, I guess. Even though that’s not usually how I roll.

Wednesday night as I dozed off I was doing a few calculations and realized I would be on track to put in 30+ miles this week. That was a satisfying thought.

But don’t count your miles before you run them. As I woke the next morning, lightning bolts flashed and thunder laughed at me.

Rain drops won’t make me melt, I figured. But a lightning strike would leave me a little crispy. I certainly don’t have the speed to evade lightning bolts.

I dragged myself out of bed, but I didn’t run. So much for those 7 miles. So this is what it feels like to make a prudent decision, I thought.

Today I rose to a beautiful sunshiny morning. Should I get in the 7 I missed yesterday?

Well, tomorrow I am supposed to do 12. Then I have an 8K race on Monday. And the Half is coming up the following week.

A full 7? Not a good idea.

But I did get out. Ran 4. See? I’m being flexible and making good decisions.

Feels kind of strange. Maybe if I can keep it up eventually I’ll get used to how it feels.

Fill 'er up

2008-05-21T07:38:00.002-05:00

I’ve been sputtering on fumes.

A couple 19-hour days at the office last week. A business trip to the East Coast. A continuing intensive soul-sucking project at work. Back-to-back Cub Scout camping weekends. Our usual hectic pace of family life.

My tank has been about empty lately.

Funny, though, I have been filling it back up not with rest, but by going on long runs. Treated myself to a 12 miler a couple Sundays ago and did 14 over a course with mondo hills last Saturday. Took the day off from work on Monday and went out for 7 miles.

While running, usually I try to work through some problem in my life. Or maybe mentally compose a draft on a writing project.

But I have been so bedraggled lately that running has been a Zen-like experience. My mind has cleared and I have focused mostly on the rhythm of my breathing or the pattern of my footfalls. Truly just absorbing the moment.

My running has become a rock for me to grip while turbulence swirls in much of the rest of my life.

I am getting more than a little excited about the upcoming Hospital Hill Half Marathon. Topher’s recent monumental decision also sent the gears in my head whirring madly.

In the meantime, guess I’ll just keep running and hope everything else moves back into balance sooner rather than later.

Back to work

2008-04-29T06:45:00.000-05:00

“Get up. It’s time to run.”

What are you talking about? I am still basking in the glow of accomplishing a PR in the race on Sunday.

“That was two days ago. What are you going to do for me today?”

Who are you anyway?

“I am the training schedule and I must be obeyed.”

OK. So what did you have in mind this morning? A 3-mile leg stretcher? Maybe 4.

“8”

You have to be joking. 8 miles?

“I am the training schedule. And I don’t joke.”

Dude, you need to lighten up.

“Mr. Dude, you need to get out of bed and run. 8 miles. Now get going.”

OK, OK, I’m going already.

“You will thank me on that hot day in June when you are going up and down hills for 13.1 miles.”

Don’t push it, buddy.

Racing against thousands of runners -- and my own self doubt

2008-04-27T11:57:00.003-05:00

I’m a huge fan of Margaritas, really I am.

The blender had barely stopped whirring last night when Mrs. Oz filled a glass with the delicious, frosty concoction and then looked askance when I said, “No thank you” to a glass of my own.

Not my typical response.

It’s not that I am some sort of world-class athlete with iron will for discipline or anything. But I did have a race this morning and yes, I am trying to set myself up to succeed.

So last night I did abstain. I even went to bed early. We had rented a couple of DVDs. By the time I got done watching one with the youngest Ozling, it was quarter to 9. So instead of staying up late to watch the second movie with Mrs. Oz, I read for a little bit and then turned out the light.

Yesterday I did run long, but I took it easy for a little over 9 miles. The Half Marathon in June is my true focus for this part of the running season so I needed some mileage, but I also wanted to rev up the engine today at the Trolley Run 4-miler. So I tried to leave some gas in the tank.

And rev I did this morning. Vroom, vroom.

The leader of my weekly running group encouraged everyone doing today’s race to take it easy on the first part of the course. It can be a bit congested with thousands of runners and walkers. And the early going is flat to slightly uphill.

I thought I was taking it easy. Sort of. When my little Garmin buddy beeped a first-mile split, though, it informed me I had gone a little over 7.

Then we hit the downhill portion of the course. Downhill is fun. The rest of my splits…..went negative.

I often have negative splits in my races. But it doesn't usually involve faster miles toward the end. They reflect negative thoughts of self doubt that fill my head late in a race. When I hit the mind games part of the race, they did in fact arrive. “You are going too fast. You know you are going to get tired. What if you bonk? “

“Shut up. I have been training. I’m doing OK,” I replied to the negative thoughts.

“Don’t you think if you keep going this fast you are going to bonk?” they counter.

I kept them under control. Mostly. I kept running steady and hard, but then a dude in an orange shirt came up beside me. He pushed ahead. I followed and pushed ahead of him.

We traded position about four times in the last ¾ of a mile. Then he made a final surge with what turned out to be a little more than ¼ of a mile to go.

I kept running hard, but gave in to the mind games and conceded that my legs did feel a little heavy. I gave in a bit to the fear of bonking – even as it was irrational with so little distance yet to go. I let Orange man go without a final fight and he crossed the line at least a couple hundred yards ahead of me.

Still, though, I kept the negative thoughts at bay more effectively than I ever have before. When I crossed the line, it was a PR -- with the fastest average time per mile of any race I have ever run.

I will learn from today and be stronger next time. And I will celebrate today's accomplishment.

Tonight, should Mrs. Oz pour a glass of the Syrah resting in our wine rack at the moment for herself and one for me, I certainly won’t say, “No thank you.”

Ragged

2008-04-21T07:35:00.000-05:00

Get out of here, he said.

Guess I was looking a little ragged around the office. The past few weeks have been more of an adventure than usual at work. A bunch of extra late and early hours, a grueling trip and an intensive new project.

Don’t know whether my boss was just recognizing my extra effort or fearing I was about to goof something up or even about to drop. Either way, I accepted his offer and took the day off Friday.

So how did I spend my time? I went for a long run, of course.

A glorious, no rushing through it, enjoy a run in the sunshine kind of long, long run. It was fantastic.

Parked the car near a local trail that runs parallel with a creek. Tightened my laces, pressed the start button on my little Garmin buddy and then headed off. Turned around at about 3.5 miles and made my way back to the car.

A few gulps of Gatorade later I headed for 3.5 miles in the other direction. I was aiming for a moderately paced training run. Really I was.

But as I pondered things going on at work and in the rest of my life lately, the adrenaline coursed through my veins, the tension rose and my pace inexplicably quickened. As I neared 13 miles after the second turnaround, I was only a minute or so off my half marathon PR time.

Dumb, dumb, dumb.

I did manage to slow it down for a final mile or so of cool down at least.

It felt good to get a good run in. We had friends visiting from out of town and a weekend packed with activities so I wasn’t able to get out on Saturday. It also helped dump some of the tension I have been carrying around inside lately.

I paid the price for an overly ambitious pace, though. My legs were sore for most of the weekend. Only this morning on a brief 3-mile leg stretcher did they start better after I had the chance to work some of the kinks out.

Got a race coming up this Sunday. A four miler that ends on the Country Club Plaza. Then of course we’ve got Nancy’s 10 on the 10th coming up. I’ve also been getting excited about the Hospital Hill Half Marathon in June. Still trying to figure out what I might want to do in the fall.

A little racing and a lot of running should bring my fall plans into greater focus.

Travel marathon

2008-04-04T13:02:00.002-05:00

It took 12 miles, but I got out all the crankiness. Almost.

Was a bit of a grouchy bear when I woke up this morning. Mostly it was the after effects of this week’s trip, I think. Running was the tonic that I prescribed. It seemed to work.

I now am feeling refreshed and much more content, thank you very much.

Only ran one other time this week, but walked what seemed like a million miles around Vegas and the sprawling convention center. My calves were tighter than if I had just raced in a half marathon.

Had a joyous – and at least in my traveling past, unique – experience in the Phoenix airport thanks to U.S. Airways on my flight home Wednesday. It was a tight connection, but we actually landed on time. I could have made it.

Then we sat. And sat.

“Well, sorry about the wait, but we are looking for someone to push the jetway over to the plane so we can open the door,” the pilot said.

A few more minutes go by.

“We found someone to move the jetway, but it looks like he doesn’t know how to operate it,” the pilot informed us. “They are going to find someone else.”

More minutes tick off the clock.

“Um, I guess we have a power failure in that jetway. Now we need to get pushed back from this gate and we will drive over to another gate with a working jetway.”

About 10 minutes more go by. We pull up to a new gate. They do in fact open the door. I get off.

My Kansas City-bound flight is gone. They book me on a new flight – scheduled to leave in four hours.

That flight ends up being delayed for yet another hour and 15 minutes. Spent more than five hours just hanging in Phoenix. At the airport. My, what fun.

By the time I landed and headed home, it was about 1:30 a.m. I found the boy Ozling sleeping in my place in the bed. He looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb him. I went and slept on the couch.

Welcome home.

How would she run in those boots?

2008-04-02T19:24:00.002-05:00

So last week, duty called, forcing me into the office in the wee hours on both Thursday and Friday.

Two planned runs? Scratched.

This week, duty called again, sending me on the road for a business trip. Monday was spent on airplanes, so no running then.

This job thing is really starting to get in the way of my running. If only I could find a sponsor for a middle-of-the-pack, never going to win a race runner who likes to run the occasional half mary, a few 10ks and maybe one day a marathon. I could quit my job and train full time. Any takers?

No? Oh, well, I’ll keep training anyway.

Tuesday, I laced up the Mizunos and headed out the door of my Las Vegas hotel.

The time change sure was messing with my body. My internal clock, and my watch (which I didn’t reset to local time), both were telling me it was 7 in the morning, as it was back in the Land of Oz

But in Las Vegas, it was only 5.

I cruised through the casino/lobby in my running duds to get outside. It’s awesome to get the runner’s-eye view of a new locale. No better way to check out the scenery as far as I am concerned.

Probably an all-time favorite was on a trip to San Francisco. Ran along the waterfront and saw the early-morning sun glint off the Golden Gate Bridge. Truly stunning.

Anybody else have favorite spots where they have run while traveling?

A run during a visit to Boston last year was nice, though my hotel was in a crappy part of town. I did run long enough to get to some more interesting scenery than the industrial, highway-choked section where I happened to be staying.

This week I started cruising along the Vegas strip. I got my six miles in, but it was kind of disappointing.

It was cool to run by the Eiffel Tower, a few canals of Venice and gawk at all of the posh hotels. My what bright lights. Ran by a few early-morning revelers who had yet to call it a night.

Ran by one young lady, a local who seemed to be taking a break from her morning run. At least I think she was a runner. She was wearing skimpy shorts, like a runner's. She was wearing a skimpy top, much like a runners. But she also was wearing thigh-high leather boots with semi high heels.

How in the heck did she run in those?

You'd think a Tiger would be cheering for the Wildcats

2008-03-30T20:02:00.001-05:00

If you tell my college roommates, I’ll deny it.

Today, I – involuntarily, and possibly accidentally, I’ll say – let out a scream of “C’mon! Pound those guys!” while watching a certain basketball game that was determining the final participant in the Final Four.

My encouragement was for the team in white.

Back in the day, my college days, while living in our apartment – in Columbia, Missouri – we eagerly anticipated the chance to walk across campus and see the epic battles between our mighty Tigers and those prairie chickens, er, Jayhawks from the other side of the state line in Kansas.

Due to some unforeseen circumstances, I didn’t have a team to root for in this year’s tournament. I’ve always liked Roy Williams (again, if you tell my boys from the college days, I’ll deny that too), and I like the ACC hoops tradition, so I had been rooting for Carolina.

But this afternoon, especially during the final 16 seconds, I was cheering, actually shouting, for those guys from Lawrence. They look good. Self seems like a good guy. I think they might do it.

If they do, and if anybody should claim I was excited, or even happy, about the prospect, I’ll deny it.

Who wears short shorts?

2008-03-30T07:53:00.003-05:00

I do, that’s who.

As I was suiting up for my Saturday morning long run, I picked up my tights in one hand and my shorts in the other. Dropped those tights right on the carpet of the closet.

When I bop out the door for a run, it’s not about the fashion. One glance would confirm that. A windbreaker came off the sale rack. I’m down to two mismatched cloth gloves -- one blue, one green and one with a huge hole in the pinky finger (somehow I lost one member of the matching pair and I just didn’t want to buy a new set so late in the season). Thought about wearing only the green glove, but that seemed too much like a Michael Jackson kind of deal and who needs that weirdness?

So it wasn’t about fashion, but I definitely was making a statement Saturday.

It’s time for Spring to arrive. The calendar says so. I say so. So rather than giving into the early morning chilliness, I just decided to pretend it was a balmy day of the newly arrived season. Kind of a mind over matter thing.

Granted, I was one of the few, the proud (the crazy?) to show up in the group clad in shorts, but I took pride in it.

The temps were in the 40s. Low 40s, mind you, but that was good enough. I didn’t completely freeze off my patoot. Plus, as my bare legs covered the 10 miles, it made me think of the sunny days ahead.

Keeping up

2008-03-16T08:02:00.001-05:00

Good morning, Mr. Lactic Acid.

You hurt so good.

Haven’t felt you zapping my muscles for a while. I’ve been running quite a bit lately. But yesterday, I had a real workout.

Met up with my Saturday morning running group as usual. Winter had to get at least one last blast in. As I was driving to the course, snowflakes nearly the size of my palm were flying at my windshield.

It seemed kind of chilly at the start, but after we started running the skies cleared, the temperature rose a bit and it was an awesome morning. A truly beautiful day for a run.

The group was much smaller than usual. Might have been the weather. It certainly looked worse than it turned out to be. We also have a highly popular St. Patrick’s Day run around these parts. Hmm, let’s see: go for a long run out in the boonies in what looks like a blizzard or gather in Westport with thousands of enthusiastic runners, dash for a 5K and then drink beer….hmmm, what to do, what to do?

I took off with my normal pace group, but a fellow participant I had run with before seemed to be edging out in front. I just hung with her and chatted. Within a mile or so, we had left the group behind. We warmed up with a 9:40 and a 9:39, but then proceeded to fire off a few miles in less than 8:30 each.

The course had some good-sized rolling hills, but we just attacked them. We did our last of the 10 miles in 8:33.

I had to dash in the car, get home, shower and then the Oz family hit the road for a daytrip into mid-Missouri. The lack of post-run stretching and then sitting in a car for several hours probably has a lot to do with the slight muscle soreness I am feeling today. No biggie, though. It actually feels good.

Immediately after the run I told my partner that as she edged away from the pace group I was just sticking with her. She looked incredulous and said she thought I was amping up our pace. We both laughed. Not sure who exactly was responsible, but it was a great run.

Visions of spring

2008-03-04T06:33:00.000-06:00

I remember it now as if it were a dream.

The bright sun warmed me as I stepped out of the car. I unzipped my fleece and tossed it aside.

The light gloves and hat remained on, but I would shed those soon after beginning the run. Unzipping my wind jacket to let the breeze in also brought welcome relief.

What a glorious run it was. No thigh-numbing cold. The tips of my hair sticking out from under my hat did not freeze over with ice crystals. My cheeks did not sting.

I soaked it all in, every minute. Every mile. This morning, as my cheeks once again were stinging, my thighs were feeling the grip of the cold and I had to keep flexing my fingers to get the warm blood flowing, I thought about the promise of spring’s imminent arrival and my recent run on a bright, pleasant morning.

Now, it seems like it was a dream. But, really, it was only Saturday.

Time to go

2008-02-24T14:11:00.000-06:00

We sincerely were glad to see you when you first arrived.

Come on in and let me take your coat. Can I get you a drink? How’s the family? Any new pictures?

You cracked us up with your stories about the latest adventures of the little ones. We reminisced and enjoyed the visit by a friend we had not seen in quite some time.

Sit, dinner’s ready. We ate, we laughed, we opened a bottle of wine. And then another. Good times. Good times.

Then the hour started to get late. We didn’t want to be rude hosts. But as our eyes grew heavy and we stole glances at the clock, you didn’t notice. You weren’t even slowing down. Midnight came and went. 1 a.m. soon was in the rearview mirror.

We’ve got to work tomorrow. Then you cranked up the music. And started dancing. On the furniture. Dude, you are going to wake the children. Craaackkk! There goes a table leg.

Uncool. Very uncool.

This essentially is how I am feeling about winter.

Fall completely rocks. I even like to see winter arrive. The crispness to the air is refreshing. A blanket of snow is absolutely beautiful. I was thrilled when the season started.

But now? Enough already.

I know, I know. It can't last too much longer, and others have had it far worse. Our old home in Milwaukee probably won’t dig out from all the snow until June. Chicago has not exactly enjoyed a picnic. But we’ve been smacked around by our share of ice storms this year. The snow keeps coming – and these jokers in this town don’t seem to know how to plow or shovel sidewalks. They keep shutting down the schools, exacerbating the daily chaos of our lives. My scheduled runs have had to be scrapped a few times.

When I do go out, it often devolves into a struggle to stay upright rather than a quality workout. Thursday morning didn’t seem so bad. At first. Then the sleet arrived.

My glasses have fogged over before. Running in the rain, I have had them covered in drops. Thursday was a first. The glasses soon were covered in a solid glaze of ice.

Rubbing them with a gloved finger did nothing. I needed an ice scraper like the one I use on my car, only smaller. Anybody know where I can get a miniature scraper?

What's the matter with Garmin?

2008-02-19T07:33:00.001-06:00

OK fellow runners, the Philosophy Café now is open for business.

If a runner runs 6 miles, but doesn’t record it on his Garmin, did he really run?

This isn’t just one of those hypothetical if a tree falls in the forest ponderings. I am really wondering about the answer. Sort of.

This morning as I stumbled down the stairs to gather my gear and head out, I strapped on Garmito. As I turned on the power, it beeped at me. “Low Battery,” it whined.

For a moment I thought it had taken some kind of reading of my body and issued an alert. I was feeling kind of tired, but was I really that run down? Wait a minute. The warning was about the electronic device, not me.

Then as I thought I might be able to sneak in a run before the Garmin completely lost power, it went dark.

For a moment, I actually thought about scrapping my planned run. Pathetic, I realize. But I like my running companion. I like to hear the reassuring beep as I tick off the miles. I love plugging it in on my return to log my latest progress.

Nevertheless, I bundled up, sucked it up and headed out the door. Without Garmito.

I guess I ran 6 this morning. Don’t really have any satellite-in-the-sky-tracking-my-progress proof, though.

I got the low battery warning on my Saturday run, but it had enough power to survive the distance. I had the sucker plugged in the night before both times.

Something definitely is going around lately. People all over the place are getting knocked flat on their back with the flu and other assorted versions of the nasties.

Do you think my Garmin has caught a cold?

Extra fluffy

2008-02-17T09:22:00.003-06:00

All is right with the world.

The flakes are falling. Big time.

I got my 8 miles in. Yesterday.

The perfect medley of tunes is providing a mellow Sunday morning soundtrack.

The cakes were extra fluffy and warm this morning. Mmmm.

Good tunes, good grub, but where's the good attitude?

2008-02-12T22:09:00.007-06:00

Help me, fellow runners.

I went out this morning for a jaunt and once again encountered face-stinging, thigh-numbing cold. Enough already.

Many are suffering through far more severe winters this season. Running Jayhawk, Jason and Leah and Mouse all are getting dumped on by near-continuous ice, snow and arctic blasts in Chicago. Our previous home in Milwaukee has been getting dumped on big time this winter. One of the top 5 snowiest seasons, I think they are saying.

Still, even down here in the land of Oz, the ice storms, snow and cold are notching chinks in my runner’s resolve. I’m trying to catch a glimpse of sunny rays poking through the clouds, literally and metaphorically. Spring has to be coming soon. I’ll bet we shouldn’t have to deal with these truly unfriendly temperatures for all that much longer, but I need some help bucking up.

I would love to hear some of your coping with the bleakness of winter strategies, fellow runners. The Oz household has no gym membership nor treadmill, so those aren’t options. I need to get my tail on the road in the elements.

So I need to bundle up with fleece and other cold-weather paraphernalia. But most importantly, I need to wrap up in a good attitude. That’s the part that’s been hurting lately.

While not perfect, my approach involves good tunes and good food.

My buddy Henry, a fellow runner from Omaha, was appalled at my tendency to listen to what he considered to be boring podcasts while driving to and from work. He responded by sending me a tremendous gift: a couple of mix CDs.

Granted, I had at least a few of the artists already on my playlists. I had some KT Tunstall, Liz Phair, John Mayer and Colbie Caillat. But I felt even more tragically unhip than I usually do when I realized the depth of my tunes void when Henry introduced me to The Fray, Red Hot Chili Peppers, New Radicals, Feist and Natasha Bedingfield, among others.

I have been Jamming moreso than listening to Podcasts on my morning and evening drives lately. It’s definitely a welcome mood booster. I just have an old iPod classic, and not a compact iPod shuffle, so I don’t take the tunes on my runs, but I can see how that would be cool.

My other strategy involves food. Sure, I just about ate my weight in Girl Scout cookies in January, a couple of Dove Bars got scarfed in a fit of indulgence – and maybe a little self pity – and I did go for a juicy burger with piles of blue cheese and a mound of sweet potato fries the other day.

That’s not necessarily a helpful sort of food, though.

Comfort food – the kind that satisfies your soul and fuels a runner’s body – Now that is what I am talking about. On Sunday, I decided, I must roast a chicken.

Sliced some red potatoes, some carrots, quartered an onion and quartered some fennel (it looks weird, but try it; it’s awesome when roasted.)

Then cut a lemon in half, slice a whole head of garlic in half and then stuff it up the patoot of a chicken (after first removing the assorted stuff inside, of course)

Dump the veggies in roasting pan, put the chicken on top. I dribbled some melted butter over it, sprinkled with some salt and pepper. I got a little fancy schmancy with some sprinkled herbs de Provence, but you could also just toss on a dash of thyme.

Place that sucker in a 425 degree oven for an hour and a half to almost two hours. Take it out, let it sit for about 15 minutes. Then slice away and feed your friends, family, your soul and your runner’s body.

So I’m going to try leaning more on good tunes, good food (and the occasional Dove Bar) and thoughts of sunny days sure to come soon. Hope some of this works for you, too, and I would welcome your advice on getting through to Spring.

Shh! Don't tell anyone else we're racing

2008-02-09T19:26:00.000-06:00

When not blessed with blazing speed, stealth helps.

I ran the 9 on the 9th this morning. What a fantastic idea to shake off the winter doldrums. It’s nothing short of brilliant, Nancy. Thanks for your stellar performance as race director. I needed a race to get my running mojo flowing again.

It was a wee bit chilly as the Saturday morning running group gathered south of town in Grandview, Missouri. Usually the starting area before a race is filled with a little tension as the assembled racers survey the competition and fight off any last-minute mind games before the gun goes off. Everybody seemed remarkably calm today, though. They were just chatting away before the various pace groups were dispatched.

It was like they didn’t even know they were participating in a race.

Er, I guess they didn’t.

I sure wasn’t going to let them in on the secret. Some of these runners are smokin’ fast.

While running along the trail near Longview Lake I would put a runner in my sights, grind it out and pick them off at will as I cruised on by. Again, it was like they didn’t even know we were racing.

Maybe if some of those rabbits that normally line up in my 5Ks had a similarly lackadaisical attitude I might get the chance to place in my age group. Sometime before I am 70.

Toward the end of the run, I finally let my running buddy Jeff in on the news that we actually were in an officially sanctioned event. But I made sure to finish with a strong surge at the end just to make sure nobody could sneak up from behind at the last minute.

Granted, my 10:19 pace for the 10 miles (the watch said I did 9 in 1:32) was more at training pace than true race pace. But in my mind, and that’s perfectly fine considering this was a virtual race, I was flying.

Have you seen my mojo?

2008-02-06T17:16:00.000-06:00

I’ve been getting out there, in balmy weather and bad, to log some miles.

But, Dude, I can’t seem to find my mojo.

Following a training schedule again and looking forward to some halfs later in the spring certainly is helping. But you know what would really help?

I need a race.

Before my lovely Ozlings unleashed a near case of the flying yarkies, or a possible strep attack, I was planning to do the Groundhog Run a couple weeks ago. Running underground to get beautiful 70-degree temps in February certainly has some appeal as I look out the window to see the latest batch of the fluffy white stuff covering the ground.

But alas, I was feverish and weak – moreso than usual – and had to log a Did Not Start (or was it a DNR because I did not register?) for the Groundhog.

As I mentioned, the ground is covered with fluffy flakes so this isn’t exactly prime racing season here in the Land of Oz and surrounding environs. Not many, if any, races to pick from in the coming weeks. What to do, what to do?

Then along comes Topher telling me about Non-Runner Nancy and her 9 on the 9th!

Perfect!

You can tell I’m psyched because, ordinarily, I’m not one to go with gratuitous exclamation points.

So I’m going to sign up (not exactly sure of the procedure, but I’ll figure something out) and on Saturday I’m going to do the run. I’ll bring the proper virtual mindset, imagining all the rabbits at the starting line prepared to smoke me and my other fellow middle-of-the-pack runners that will be smoked –and maybe even impressed – by my steady pace and dogged determination. This thing is awesome. She's got a race logo and everything.

This event is like a ray of sunshine brightening up an otherwise bleak winter landscape.

Johnny Cash, Ninja runner

2008-02-05T06:36:00.000-06:00

That whole man in black thing seemed to work well for Johnny Cash.

I don’t recommend it for a runner who gets his miles in before the sun comes up.

The wind shirt I grabbed out of the closet this morning did its job in keeping me warm. But black tights, a black wind shirt and a black hat didn’t make me stand out very well to passing motorists.

I know this because the newspaper guy just about sideswiped me and then nearly took my head off as he chucked the morning news out his van window to the driveway I happened to be passing at the time.

I completely failed to heed the recent sartorial advice of Half-Fast who urged runners in the dark to do their part for safety.

“Before I run in the dark I try and make myself more reflective than a disco ball and just as cool. The thought of getting hit by a car is more than a little unpleasant, which is why I wear reflective shoes, reflective pants, a reflective shirt, reflective gloves and of course the ensemble wouldn’t be complete without my über-cool reflective slap bands,” Half-Fast wrote recently.

Just this past weekend I was checking out one of those reflective vests. I walked out of the store without buying it, though, so it didn’t offer much protection this morning.

Then to add to my missteps, I was bored with my typical routes so I went exploring. It took me along this nasty busy road that lacked sidewalks. Do my frequent leaps from the road to the grassy shoulder as the cars whizzed by make this count as cross training?

I got my miles in this morning, but basically I feel lucky that I didn’t become a hood ornament on somebody’s car.

I am going to have to make some adjustments to the whole Johnny Cash-Ninja look before I hit the road next time.

Wardrobe malfunction

2008-02-04T19:41:00.001-06:00

OK, so my wardrobe malfunction wasn’t quite so dramatic as the Super Bowl saga from a couple years ago.

It was a wee bit traumatic for me, though. Well, maybe traumatic is overstating. Can we go with pain in the patoot?

No networks stand to be fined. Though I am about to pay a penalty in the form of having to invest in new running gear.

Cruising along in the wee hours this morning, I was merely hoping to log an easy three miles.

It wasn’t too chilly, but I had my running jacket on to break the wind. Dang, got a little of the fabric caught in the zipper. Run a bit, then mess with the zipper. No luck. Run some more. Mess with zipper a little more.

OK, that wind is kind of cold. Sure wish I could zip up this jacket. Pull, pull, yank…..!

Oh no.

The zipper died. It stared at me forlornly with a zippery but definitely mangled sort of smile. I looked back with a similar sort of confused and dazed look as the ones that settled on the faces of Janet and Justin back in 2004.

I think this jacket is toast. That’s a problem because the next few scheduled runs will be on mornings when it definitely is not going to be toasty outside. I need a nice shirt for a base layer, some fleece and my once-trusty wind jacket.

Going to have to make do with some sort of a plan B. Then maybe I can pick up a new jacket in time for Saturday’s long run.

Don’t really have room in the budget for one of the fancy, schmancy really pricey Gore-Tex models. But something tells me that here at the start of February I am going to have a few more days this season when I need to layer up.

What to do, what to do…..

Racing the storm

2008-01-31T07:38:00.000-06:00

Thought I heard footsteps chasing from behind on the run this morning.

Move out, pump it and get going. I attacked a hill even though it was early in the run and I should have remained in warm-up phase.

As I looked back over my shoulder I didn’t see any fellow runners on the road. But with all of the meteorological hubbub over the past 24 hours, I did envision the coming storm following in my tracks, trying to catch and overtake me.

The last weather report I read before I went to bed last night said we could get pounded with as much as 8 inches of the fluffy stuff today. Just checked again and they said, “Never mind.” Now it looks like we are in for one to three inches.

Either way, I sure enjoyed my dry pavement and a pleasant 29 degrees this morning.

A gift from the Ozlings

2008-01-27T12:47:00.000-06:00

Mrs. Oz had a bit of a fit Saturday morning.

“The fever has pretty much broken,” I protested as I pulled on running tights and a shirt.

“You came home from work early yesterday and spent most of the past 18 hours shivering with the chills from a fever,” she replied. “You should not go running.”

“But it’s the first day this season of the Saturday morning running group. I have been so excited about getting started.”

I was feeling better. At least a little. I thought.

After continuing to gather my gear, I tried to eat something. Got most of a banana down. Then my stomach started to churn. I did feel a little weak, I admitted – only to myself.

The boy Ozling had been fighting a fever earlier in the week.

Schools are not so much places for education. They are germ incubators. Children are not so much little people. They are Petri dishes.

Put them together? Parents are doomed, basically. Oh sure, we love the little creatures. But spend much time around the germ carriers and you can count on work schedules regularly being thrown into chaos. And you can count on picking up the flu, colds, strep or the other latest bug of the week from them. Sometimes it gets really serious. It can sideline your running.

This research study reported recently by Runner’s World heartened me at least a little. Apparently running – even in the chilly willy weather we have been seeing around here lately – can stimulate production of immune cells that fight of the nasties that would strike us down with illness.

“Little do they know that running--even in frosty conditions--strengthens not just our hearts and quadriceps but also our lymphocytes and neutrophils. These immune cells protect us against attack from bacteria and viruses that cause illness and infection. Indeed, a study from the University of South Carolina reported that people who exercise have 20 percent fewer colds than their sedentary counterparts,” a report in the magazine declared recently.

I do believe that I tend to fight off most cases of the crud thanks to my running. But this time, it was not enough.

Even Superman couldn’t fight Kryptonite.

I didn’t run Saturday, laying around the house for much of the day feeling just, “Blaah.”

How low can you go?

2008-01-24T08:01:00.000-06:00

OK, I didn't know it at the time, but yesterday was...balmy.

I added the balaclava to my usual get up this morning. The extra warmth was appreciated, but it also sent my breath shooting upward, fogging my glasses and leaving me essentially blind as cars whizzed by while I tried to run on the shoulder of the streets.

So I risked a little frostbite and being T-boned by some careless motorist in the pre-dawn darkness. At least I got in a few miles.

No worries. Let's just say I eat danger for breakfast.

Brrrrr!

2008-01-23T06:32:00.000-06:00

As I ran into the wind this morning, it seemed to grab me by the shoulders, smack me across my face and suck the breath right out of me.

I'll think of this run on a sweltering summer day in July when I am suffering through a long run.

And smile.

Choices

2008-01-21T20:57:00.000-06:00

I got a little wild and crazy with Mrs. Oz this past weekend.

This is sad, I know. It’s not sad that we would resort to such activities, but it is sad that our version of wild and crazy these days consisted of…

going over a spreadsheet with the family budget. Yes, sad indeed.

It would be nice, though, if the cash going out came closer to matching – or even better – falling short of the cash coming in. Chalk it up as another goal for 2008.

This allegedly is a running blog – I say “allegedly” because the running, and frankly the blogging, has been a bit limited lately – so I am not going to digress much further into the world of personal finance.

I bring this up at all, though, because of thoughts the budgeting exercise triggered.

What is budgeting, really, besides making choices? It’s about how we choose to spend our money.

Sometimes the choices we make are not so good. We can be wasteful. Other times it’s not so much frittering away bucks on self-indulgent junk, but just meandering and not paying much attention to how we spend our money. Going out to dinner a lot, eating out for lunch too regularly, frequent visits to Starbucks, partaking frequently from iTunes and other splurges leads to a lack of focus that doesn’t leave much cash left over for what’s truly important. It’s a poor way to save and stretch for a bigger goal. Maybe a cool vacation. Real good college educations for the young’uns. Or that new gas stove I sometimes lust over.

There’s definitely a financial aspect to my running. I go through at least a couple pairs of shoes a year. To pinch some pennies, I pushed this last pair closer to 400 miles. My feet had been hurting lately, but still I waited. Then I went out this morning for the maiden voyage in a brand new pair of Mizunos…..aahhh…it was like running on pillows.

I also am shelling out some cash for my running group. It seems like a worthy investment to get regular water stops on hot summer days in Kansas, camaraderie with some fellow goal-seeking runners and the accountability of the group that helps keep my weekly running on track

As much as anything, though, my running is about how I budget – make choices – about the way I spend my time. Getting up at dawn and blasting out for a morning run sometimes makes the morning rush of getting lunches made, the Ozlings off to school and me to work a little more hectic. Bugging out for a couple hours or more for a weekend long run also can impose a burden on the family.

Lately, since the half marathon way back in October, really, when I do run, it has been more of the meandering variety. I’ve been logging a fair amount of miles and hours on the road, but I have not really been getting much back in return. I definitely enjoy my runs for the running – the crisp feel of a morning breeze, quiet early-morning streets that feel like they belong only to me, the occasional treat when an owl hoots or a fox darts across the road and the satisfying feel of my healthy heart pounding away when I am running hard. But I enjoy them most when I can take satisfaction from the moment, but know also that I am investing the exertion and discipline for something down the road, a longer race.

So, with a little focus and more deliberate spending of my time and money, I might just finish 2008 with a couple of completed half marathons, maybe a full, and…a gas stove.

Conspiracy?

2008-01-17T19:45:00.000-06:00

Apparently running only a couple times a week – and then on one of those days going for 7, 8 or more miles – isn’t too smart.

Or so my right foot has been telling me.

Twinges and tenderness on my forefoot are symptoms of an overuse injury. My shoes have north of 350 miles on them so that probably isn’t helping anything.

It’s mostly been a scheduling thing.

Take this week, for example.

I ran long on Sunday. So on Monday I wanted to take a day off. Then the boy Ozling woke up ill with a mild fever that lasted for two days. Mrs. Oz and I took split shifts – I stayed home in the morning and she worked and then we switched for the afternoons.

Mrs. Oz needed to leave extra early on Tuesday, so that prevented me from getting out without causing major disruptions for the family.

On Wednesday I had to hit the road around 6 a.m. to make my way to Topeka for a business meeting.

Today we got dumped on by a mere three inches. It was enough to cancel school, however. The wimps. By the time I got the driveway shoveled, the cars cleaned off and a strategy worked out for what to do with the Ozlings (daycare is also closed on snow days. No, we didn’t leave them home with the cat. Hmmm. That’s an idea to keep in mind for the future, though.), again, no time to run.

On Friday, I have to get to work in the pre-dawn hours to work on a project.

I am starting to wonder whether there is some sort of conspiracy to keep me off the streets.

All of the rest seems to have done my foot some good. It’s not hurting nearly as much today as it was earlier in the week.

The really good news is that my running group sessions start up in another week or so.

I’ll pick up a running schedule for a spring half marathon or two. It will give me a daily guide to keep me a bit more consistent and lock in a weekly appointment for a long run.

I can’t wait.

992 to go?

2008-01-03T06:44:00.000-06:00

Since happily being united with Garmito, my little Garmin Forerunner running buddy, last March, I managed to hoof it 721 miles.

I was running earlier in the year, but my record keeping was shoddy. So I’ll just go with what the Garmin recorded.

Many other runners may run many more miles, but I am striving for a pace that offers the enjoyment of regular runs, the benefits of steady training, the mind-clearing and stress-relieving impact of exercise – all without doing so much my body starts to crumble.

So, if I could do 721 over 10 months, would it be possible to log a nice round 1,000 with a full year of training?

What the heck. Let’s give it a go.

I got 2008 off to a decent start thanks to the Kansas City Track Club. They put on an annual New Year’s Day Fun Run – complete with donuts and hot cider at the end. SeeKCRun chronicled the event with great photos.

I was thinking Topher of I’ll Run for Donuts might show up, but, alas, he showed better judgment than to tackle the snow- and ice-covered trail. It definitely was slick in spots, but I just slowed down and took my time.

Indeed, it was a fun run. I got in 8 miles. Plus, a free donut. Chocolate topped with a cream-filled center. Mmmmm.

What a great way to start the day – and a new year of running.

With 1,000 miles of running – or somewhere in the vicinity – that should leave me in decent shape to run a race or two. Hmmm….. choices, choices, choices….

I definitely want to enjoy some of the area’s iconic events. Everybody keeps talking about the Groundhog Run. A 5K or 10K through an underground network of caves in someplace called the Hunt Midwest Subtropolis offers 70-degree running temperatures in January. Some fellow runners have mentioned feeling claustrophobic, but it’s definitely a race I want to try at least once.

The Trolley Run in April is four miles of fun in April that winds through some of Kansas City’s beautiful neighborhoods down to the Country Club Plaza.

The Hospital Hill Half Marathon in June certainly is something to shoot for. My only question is whether I might also squeeze in another half marathon earlier by doing 13.1 in Lawrence in April or in Lincoln, Nebraska, in early May.

So this gets me through the first six months of the year.

I’ve still got unfinished business when it comes to 26.2. An injury-induced DNF after 19 miles in 2006 planted a marathon monkey, make that a gorilla, firmly on my back. Could this be the year that I shake him off? If so, where and when?

Imagination running wild

2007-12-31T10:00:00.000-06:00

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

2007-12-21T08:30:00.000-06:00

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

2007-12-15T09:21:00.001-06:00

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

2007-12-08T08:45:00.000-06:00

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

2007-12-07T17:39:00.000-06:00

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

2007-12-02T16:02:00.000-06:00

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

2007-12-01T09:22:00.000-06:00

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

2007-11-30T16:57:00.000-06:00

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

2007-11-26T07:10:00.000-06:00

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

2007-11-22T08:24:00.001-06:00

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

2007-11-12T07:22:00.000-06:00

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

2007-11-08T07:24:00.000-06:00

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

2007-11-05T06:05:00.000-06:00

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

2007-10-30T06:27:00.000-05:00

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

2007-10-26T11:01:00.000-05:00

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

2007-10-24T06:35:00.000-05:00

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

2007-10-20T11:25:00.001-05:00

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....

2007-10-19T12:33:00.000-05:00

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....

2007-10-17T06:22:00.000-05:00

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

2007-10-15T06:10:00.000-05:00

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

2007-10-14T21:28:00.001-05:00

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

2007-10-08T07:16:00.000-05:00

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

2007-10-04T06:58:00.000-05:00

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

2007-10-02T06:41:00.000-05:00

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

2007-09-22T10:56:00.000-05:00

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

2007-09-20T06:21:00.000-05:00

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

2007-09-17T06:38:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-09-14T19:17:00.000-05:00

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....

2007-09-11T21:07:00.000-05:00

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

2007-09-07T10:09:00.000-05:00

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

2007-09-05T06:33:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-09-03T10:15:00.000-05:00

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

2007-09-01T13:32:00.000-05:00

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

2007-08-30T06:32:00.000-05:00

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

2007-08-27T06:14:00.000-05:00

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

2007-08-26T19:48:00.000-05:00

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

2007-08-23T06:43:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-08-06T13:48:00.000-05:00

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

2007-08-01T07:54:00.001-05:00

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

2007-07-28T12:44:00.000-05:00

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

2007-07-26T06:29:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-07-17T20:29:00.001-05:00

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

2007-07-15T13:52:00.000-05:00

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.

Swim, bike AND run? On the same day?!

2007-07-12T08:28:00.001-05:00

Suddenly I find myself surrounded by triathletes.

My neighbor finished his first tri on Sunday (Go Bob!) and another neighbor competed in the same race. RunningJayhawk swam, biked, ran and, as she described so perfectly on her blog, “kicked ass” Sunday in The Danskin Triathlon in Wisconsin. Danielle took home a trophy for her efforts in the Cornman Triathlon in Iowa. Then the weekly e-mail from my running group arrives to tell me that six of our Saturday-morning-run peers also completed a short-course triathlon this past weekend.

The swim-bike-run crowd seems to be popping up all around me like mushrooms after a spring rain.

I am often puzzled when my co-workers, or even family members, express surprise, a bit of shock or, frankly, look at me like I am a bit crazy, when I tell them I have just run 8 miles, 10 miles or maybe longer.

After my frustrating marathon DNF last fall, a good friend told me not to worry about it. He said he thought that I was just as crazy to have run 19 miles as he would have thought I was for completing 26.2.

In a world where so many people can’t imagine moving briskly for even a mile or two, I guess this widespread lack of comprehension about longer runs is understandable.

I bring this up because I feel some of the same mixture of puzzlement and awe when I look at triathletes. Pumping arms and kicking through a maelstrom of bodies in an open water swim, then, after surviving that, jumping out of the water to strap on a helmet and shoes to climb on a bike to log an ungodly number of miles and then, finally, go for a run – by which time the sun most likely is beating brutally down – now that is amazing.

That is just on race day. People who have the discipline to log so many miles on a bike, in their running shoes and in a pool to train for these events also are amazing. I checked out this triathlete’s training schedule on BuckeyeOutdoors and was nothing short of stunned.

These athletes all are so inspiring.

Hearing the war stories and reading blog reports of recent races has left me pumped up this week. It’s added a bit of energy to my early-morning runs. While I have no intention of rolling my more than a decade-old hybrid mountain bike into a tri, I am itching to sign up for a race. There are not a lot of other 5Ks or 10Ks this time of year in this area. The Komen Race for the Cure, though, is coming up in early August. I can’t wait.

Hot times

2007-07-09T06:12:00.000-05:00

I must admit that I am a weather wimp.

Bring on the snow and cold and I’m fine. I’ll bundle up – won’t necessarily be thrilled as I warm up over the first mile – and log some miles. Not a problem.

But on mornings like today when I walk out the door at 5:09 a.m. and immediately encounter a wall of heat, it gets inside my head. Granted, this wall of heat consisted of 77 degrees, but that just doesn’t seem right when the sun hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet.

I was only going for three miles this morning, but I was thinking about the weather for most every step. It’s days like this in particular when I really miss Wisconsin, where I used to live. Many summers it rarely rose above 90. Early morning runs were quite pleasant, sometimes offering the slightest hint of a chill when running along the shores of Lake Michigan.

After moving South a couple years ago, my summers are much different. Saturday’s run was a bit of a scorcher. The course for the day was south of Kansas City at Longview Lake. My schedule called for eight miles, which was a blessing. Many of the full marathoners had much longer runs that kept them plodding and sweating through the heat for much longer than my hour and 20 minutes.

I may be a weather wimp, but it's not all in my mind. The heat definitely can take a toll on a runner's body.

The organized Saturday runs come complete with water and Gatorade stops every couple of miles. Staying hydrated is a big deal, obviously. When I go for my solo training runs sans water stops, it’s more of a trick. I have a couple courses that include water fountains, but that’s not much of an option as I go through residential areas.

It’s been a relatively mild summer so far, but it looks like the heat has arrived. The mind games I encounter while trying to cope with the hot weather should be interesting.

What's your goal?

2007-07-04T09:13:00.001-05:00

I took off this morning like a rocket out of a bottle, like a ball of flame out of a Roman candle, like a…..string of poor puns fired off by a bad stand-up comic.

Sorry about that. Just got a bit carried away on this morning of Independence Day! Happy Fourth of July.

I was flying, though. At least for me.

After clocking the first mile in a fairly reasonable warm-up of 9:20, I then, in a steady, longer-slow-run sort of way, put the hammer down for 8:42, 8:42, 8:46, 8:52 and an 8:48 to wrap-up my 6 miles.

Felt good. Really good. A great way to start Independence Day.

Made me start thinking about what’s a reasonable pace for a half marathon. If I can train smart so my body doesn’t break down, I think shooting for a goal time rather than only a finish is a reasonable objective. Then again, maybe I should just dial it back a notch, listen to my body and focus on the train-without-injury-and-complete-the-race goal.

Obviously, I have a bit more time to ponder that question. I haven’t even signed up for the race yet. I’ll probably go with Kansas City’s Half, though Tulsa has a race a few weeks later that is supposed to be a well-organized and fun run.

I definitely have moved ahead to embrace the idea of a half.

As I was listening recently to Steve Runner on his Phedippidation’s Podcast, he said something that grabbed me by the shoulders and shook some sense in to me. The difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry blank for a race, he said.

It’s not the piece of paper so much, but that the runner has set a goal.

“For many, the goal of running a half marathon road race, 13.1 miles from start to finish, is an impressive life-affirming goal that can be achieved through hard work and persistent effort,” Steve Runner stated during Fdip No. 103.

In addition to weekly encouragement and tips, Phedippidations is offering me some additional motivation as I prepare for a fall race.

Phedippidations is a driving force behind an intriguing concept of a virtual road race literally involving runners all over the globe. This October will mark the 2nd Annual Phedippidations World Wide Half Marathon. They also have added a "Kick the Couch" 5K road race this year.

The event is not going to occur in any single location. Instead, runners everywhere can sign up online and then run an organized half marathon or just 13.1 miles that they map out themselves. By participating with a run on the weekend of Oct. 13-14, or, like myself the following weekend, runners will be able to “feel that you are part of a community of friends all over the globe” by supporting the event’s premise of “Think Global, Run Local.”

Snap, Crackle and...

2007-07-02T12:11:00.000-05:00

While a snapping and clicking cacophony might be amusing coming from a bowl of cereal, it’s not so good to hear such sounds coming from your own body.

Like a metronome keeping time, I was treated to a click, click, click (or was it a creak, creak, creak) coming from my right ankle, or maybe my knee as I ran this morning. As silly as it may sound, I couldn’t really pinpoint the location.

Not really any pain associated with it. And, as I ran on and warmed up a bit it seemed to disappear or at least fade away.

I occasionally have encountered these sounds before, never really thinking too much about it. Just figured it was something unique to my freakish body. Well, as it turns out, I may be freakish, but, in this regard at least, I am not unique.

Runner’s World included a blurb in its August edition about “Listening to the sounds your body makes can help you recognize and avoid injury.”

Turns out that “clicking” comes form tight muscles pulling joints out of alignment. “Creaking” is associated with a muscle, tendon or ligaments that is tight and needs to be stretched.
“Crunching” comes from inflexible joints, usually in the neck, hands and feet.

“Pop” and “Snap?” Bad, possibly very bad. Someone experiencing these conditions usually can be recognized by the fact they are writhing on the ground, probably screaming if not at least loudly groaning. Best case is ligament or muscle pull. Worst? We’re talking fracture. Yikes.

So, the good news is that I am not experiencing those terrible conditions. Not quite sure whether I was hearing a click, creak or a crunch this morning. Whichever it was, though, I’ll take it as yet one more reminder that I need to be more disciplined about not only logging the miles, but consistently devoting more time to stretching and improving my flexibility.

Whacked Out Runners Unite!

2007-06-30T09:12:00.000-05:00

It’s days like today that offer a reminder that, for a runner, the line between discipline and mental illness can be mighty thin.

The skies were dumping rain drops by the bucketful, but the schedule called for 8. The schedule, as we all know, must be obeyed.

At least I was not the only whacked-out runner in Kansas City this morning. In fact, there were several hundred of us.

Pulling into the parking lot for a group run, a couple dozen compatriots in some of the early pace groups already were heading out to the Indian Creek Trail in one of the southern suburbs of the Kansas City area.

Jeff, who just joined the group this year, arrived and said he was surprised to see so many people show up in such questionable weather. Do they ever cancel? He asked.

Not unless bolts of lightning are bombarding the runners or some other situation is threatening everyone’s safety would Eladio, the leader of the group, call off our Saturday morning treks.

So, it was a good day for a run. Good, if you like downpours, wind that got a bit chilly toward the end and a trail that became increasingly saturated with pools of water and mud.

Early on I attempted the dainty dancing of tiptoeing or swinging wide around the puddles coming from an overflowing Indian Creek onto the trail. Eventually, though, splish, splash, splish and my feet were waterlogged.

Not too big a deal, but the extra weight probably brought a little extra pounding on my knees, ankles and goofy size 12s.

The rainy weather this week claimed two of our family’s swimming outings, a planned trip to an amusement park and a scheduled double-header for my son’s Little League team.

But I strapped on my snorkel, swim fins and logged eight miles to finish the week with 19.38 miles.

Stormy skies

2007-06-28T06:37:00.000-05:00

The forecast calls for storms, storms, I am afraid, of the family drama variety.

A sprinkling of phone calls already started this week, triggering feelings of frustration, guilt, sadness and the general bewilderment that seem to affect many in my family at times of rising tension.

Not really knowing what to do, not really being in a position to do much and not really knowing how to process all of it, left me in a bit of a mess. So what should I do? Go running of course.

Actually, lacing up my shoes and heading out the door has been therapeutic. In addition to working out the kinks in my tightened muscles and joints, a few miles on the road also helps sort out the jumble in my head.

I must be quite a sight, running down the road, mumbling under my breath and occasionally letting a cathartic “WTF?!” outburst escape from my lips to no one in particular.

Haven’t really been logging any massive mileage, just a three-miler, a four-miler and what was supposed to be a three-miler this morning that somehow got an extra mile tacked on to it. This was supposed to be a recovery week anyway. Saturday calls for 8 miles.

It is strangely comforting to see a training schedule that provides such orderly direction, and that I am managing to follow along with relative discipline.

I awoke this morning to real storms, storms of the rain and a smattering of thunder variety. By the time I got out the door, however, the skies had calmed a little. I was treated to a few drops along the way, and a very brief burst of a downpour, but otherwise the storm behaved itself while I was on the road.

If only my family drama storm could pass by as smoothly.

Marathon envy

2007-06-25T06:28:00.001-05:00

Before hitting the streets Saturday like a thundering herd, all the participants of the group run divided into pace groups.

Forming a circle of those aiming for about 10-minutes-per-mile for our weekly long runs, one by one we said our name and our target race. Out of about 35 of us, almost everyone declared that 26.2 was their goal for the fall. When it came to my turn, “Kansas City….half” squeaked out of my throat.

Not really sure what the problem is. It’s not like 13.1 miles is only a walk around the block. Training smart – having fun, enjoying the running and avoiding injury – this summer and then starting – and completing – a half marathon in October is a worthy endeavor.

Somehow, some way, at least for now, I will have to get over my marathon envy and do what’s right for me.

We’ll see how it goes.

After the introductions Saturday, we went out for a jaunt. I did 8 miles – and felt great.

Taking a few days off toward the end the week seemed to do the trick. My legs felt much better. When I had run the same distance the week before, I felt a lot more fatigued toward the end and for the rest of the day.

Saturday, after my run, I did a little cross training by taking my kids to a barbecue contest in Lenexa, then swimming and then out to dinner for pizza. It’s important to refuel your body after a workout, right?

Dead legs

2007-06-21T06:49:00.000-05:00

The training schedule said 4 miles today. My body said, "no."

When I went out yesterday, I just didn't have much zip in my legs. I thought about pushing through it to log the run today, but decided against it.

Saturday will be my first long run of the season with the training group. I would rather rest up a bit now to have a good experience Saturday, and definitely later through the summer as I log the miles on the way to my fall race.

So when the alarm went off at 5 a.m. today, I just clicked it off and grabbed another 30 minutes of sleep.

What's your hurry?

2007-06-20T08:00:00.000-05:00

Sometimes when I was a kid, we would go horseback riding at some stable catering to tourists. As we prepared to set out on a well-worn trail, I would grip the reins and ready myself for controlling my trusty steed.

Let’s be honest, though. These beasts traveled their trails countless numbers of times before and had no intention of letting some city-slicker youngster control either the direction they headed or the speed at which they traveled.

I bring this up now because it is a bit like my running.

To be sure, I am in greater control of the routes I travel. But I am having about as much luck controlling my speed as I did back in the days when I sat atop ‘Ol Paint.

I know the best advice is to start out slow, as much as a minute-per-mile or more slower than regular long-slow-run pace. The body needs time to work out the kinks and get the blood flowing. As Eladio Valdez of The Runner’s Edge says, “Your risk of injury goes up, the amount of enjoyment goes down as you waste extra energy with an inefficient body coming back to haunt you in the 2nd half of the workout, and it makes it harder for a pace group leader to settle into the appropriate pace.”

Sometimes I feel sluggish and strain to get going over the first mile. Then I realize that I probably am running too fast.

Experts like Eladio know better. Believe it or not, I know better. Yet, as much as I try to slow down to do my first mile in about 10 minutes, or maybe 9:30, I keep posting 9 minutes and sometimes less for that first mile. Yesterday and today I did a little better with a 9:17 and a 9:29 first mile, but Saturday when I did 8 I started with a 9:07.

The Runner’s Edge has weekly workouts that are guided by a pace-group leader who helps keep my inclination to speed ahead too quickly too early under control.

It’s just the other days of the week that I need to find a pair of reins to pull back as I head out on the trail.

Get out and run

2007-06-17T16:11:00.000-05:00

I’ve been a terrible blogger in recent weeks – months? – but a runner? Not so bad. My size 12s have logged 165.8 miles since I last checked in here at RunninginOz.

Feeling pretty good. A lot better, in fact, than this time a year ago as I began my summer of training for what became a debacle in Milwaukee last fall. I still have some issues. Don’t we all? My hamstrings and calves have all the flexibility of an iron bar. I have been stretching, but not as consistently as I should.

Lurking on the blogs of inspiring runners such as Running Jayhawk, Full Metal Lunchbox and Josh has provided plenty of motivation and a few laughs. They recently completed the Great Midwest Relay – a simple 190-mile jaunt from Madison, Wisconsin, over to Milwaukee and then a dip south to Chicago. The entire team was filled with studly athletic beasts who overcame sleep deprivation and a cramped van to pound out the miles. Sounds like it was a fun time.

Don’t think I have a relay like that in my future any time soon, but I am eager to commit to a fall race. My decision has been complicated by the fact I still am grappling with the emotional baggage of my DNF for my first marathon attempt. So, I am leaning heavily toward a half. Train hard. Have fun. Show some discipline. Show I can run and complete a goal race. Then we’ll see where things stand. Then maybe I’ll go for 26.2 next spring or next fall.

As I look over an intermediate training schedule for a half vs. a full, they aren’t that different. I’ll be logging a lot of miles either way. Half vs. full, full vs. half? Hmmm.

Seduced by the Sunshine

2007-03-14T06:19:00.000-05:00

Too much, too soon.

That’s my assessment, I’m afraid, of my Sunday run. The morning was crisp, the sunlight bright – what a beautiful day for a run. I had logged a couple of four-milers during the week without major incident. I was starting to feel good.

What the heck. It’s just one more mile, I thought. While running the Indian Creek Trail, a nice wooded path, my new friend from Garmin (the little guy needs a name, no?) beeped off one mile, then two. I’m not ready to turn around just yet, I thought. How about 5 today? So I pushed on for another half mile before turning around.

I was running at a brisk pace, at least for me. The first mile went by in 8:53 and my last two were 9:00 each. The whole 5.06 took 46:21.

I felt decent when I was done. Even did a little stretching in the parking lot. When I woke up on Monday, though, sore legs told me I might have pushed it a bit too much. Nothing catastrophic, but I need to be careful. I need gradually to build up more of a training base.

I took it easy with a 3-miler yesterday. My legs felt a bit like soggy tree stumps, at least as I chugged up a long hill. Toward the end though, I had worked out most of the kinks.

On Sunday, the sunshine just beckoned to go a little longer, a little longer. Frankly, I am surprised I stopped at 5. I am eager to crank up the training.

Isn't She Lovely

2007-03-06T21:16:00.000-06:00

One rebate dividend from REI + a $50 rebate from Garmin + one very understanding (and maybe a little indulgent) wife = my new running companion.

It arrived yesterday in a plain, brown box that was left sitting on our front porch. Truly humble wrappings for such an amazing innovation.

I realize that the purists out there would think this all a bit silly. Grab a pair of running shoes, an old t-shirt and hit the streets, they would argue. My friend Henry is an accomplished runner who occasionally dashes in to a department store when it is time for new footwear. “I pick whichever ones are on sale,” Henry says.

Maybe it is a bit silly to get over-gadgeted with fancy-schmancy watches, mp3 players, shirts and shorts of high-tech fabrics and shoes seemingly designed by NASA engineers.

Laugh if you will, but I am besotted by my new Garmin.

Last year I had a brief dalliance with a Forerunner when a friend loaned me one to try out for a few weeks. As I boxed it up to return it one morning last summer, my daughter looked at me and said, “Dad, you are sad about giving that back, aren’t you?”

She’s a wise girl. I was.

It’s so comforting to know that when the training schedule calls for a 6 or 8 mile run that you are really running 6 or 8 miles. A quick glance at the sleek device on my wrist and you get an instant reading of distance, with pace as an added bonus. It sure beats driving a new course the night before and trying to remember the various mile markers while running the same route the next day.

I had been making similar glances at my trusty Timex for years. All it would tell me though was how many minutes and seconds had elapsed, triggering a conversation in my head: “Hmmm. 23 minutes and 12 seconds. Let’s see. I’ve gone about 2 and a half miles so that means my pace is about…..” Not a good thing for me to concentrate on math while keeping an eye out for ankle-twisting potholes.

With the Garmin, those conversations aren’t necessary. Now I can concentrate on something more important such as: “Hmmm. I wonder what I can have for breakfast when I get home…”

I charged it up last night and took it out this morning for a maiden voyage. A bright glowing ball of a moon shined down as I trod along the streets in my neighborhood. An encouraging little electronic beep ticked off each mile.

Then when I got home, I plugged it into the PC and was truly amazed to see a map pop up showing my running route, complete with splits for every mile. 4.01 miles.

Technology sure has come a long way since the days I borrowed an old stopwatch complete with a sweeping second hand from my big brother.

Running Mind Games

2007-03-04T16:51:00.000-06:00

Psst. Yeah, you. Can you keep a secret? Promise not to tell my body? Good. Here’s the deal:

I’ve started running again. But it’s more than that. I am trying to start training again.

My muscles don’t seem to be in shape for anything serious at the moment. To be honest, they seem more than a bit resistant. The struggle I have been encountering on my runs lately basically is part of paying the bill for my winter of healing injuries and slothfulness.

As far as training goes, my mind is willing, but my body is weak. And my muscles are as tight as ever, but I’ll leave that issue for another post.

So, the idea is to hide the truth from my body that this return to the road is anything more than just a few casual jogs. “Come on now, let’s go out for a bit of a stroll, maybe a fast stroll,” my mind coaxes. “Just a bit longer now. You can do it.”

By the time my body figures out what really is going on, I hope it will be in such decent running shape that it once again will be willing to participate.

Think this all sounds crazy? Maybe. Probably. RunnerSusan kind of gave me the idea, though, when she talked recently about her fears that her old house rebelled against her with a burst-pipe, floor-soaking tantrum. The house, she wrote in a post titled "My Advice to You," turned against her when it sensed imminent abandonment because she was moving to a new house.

Susan, and her wooden floors seem to be recovering. But she did advise that discretion – in front of your current home -- is extremely important for anyone else preparing to move.

I think the advice applies to stubbornly out-of-shape bodies reluctant to resume training.

Besides, I am not the only one wrestling with running mind games. Little Miss Runner Pants perfectly captured the sense that a runner has a voice whispering in one ear, feeding the part of you that says, "i loathe running. i hate it. i really do.” Then there is the other voice on the opposite shoulder leading you to the realization that “but ya know what? i hate it, in that way that i love it.”

Not really sure what I am training for, but I want to put my miles on the road toward a larger goal. Sure, I usually enjoy the running. Keeping my heart pumping also seems like a worthy cause. But steadily running three, four days a week for the sake of the run and only the run just isn’t the same as what I experienced last year.

While my marathon attempt ended in a bit of a debacle last year, the training was amazing.

As I logged miles over the summer and early fall, I was filled with such an intense sense of purpose. It was a powerful motivator. It helped me overcome the misery of long runs on days so hot and humid that I felt as if I were breathing water. Hot, hot, water.

Now as I have resumed running, I am finding it more difficult to go out for a couple miles at this stage than I did last year when I was cranking out 10, 12 or even 18 miles at a time. I also did a couple 20 milers, but I can’t say I did those with ease.

While the running was somewhat of a struggle, today was a glorious day for a run. Forty-eight degrees and bright sunshine. A steady 34-minute workout and a good way to cap off the week.

Now don’t tell my body about my plans to go even longer next weekend.

The Bear Emerges

2007-02-25T14:04:00.000-06:00

It's been a long winter. A long, long winter without running.

Finally, it was time to emerge from hibernation.

I got out three times last week. Not far, not hard. But I was out there at least.

My legs felt like heavy logs on the first couple of runs. Then I had the joy of feeling the effects of lactic acid in muscles that have been doing far too little work in recent weeks.

It's good to be back on the streets at least a few days a week.

This bear gets grumpy without enough exercise.

Lost and Found

2006-12-20T20:25:00.000-06:00

Months of hard-won conditioning now have been lost....

Frustrating, it's true.

But I know this for a fact because I found it out while on a run....yeah, you read that correctly....A RUN!

My stretching has been going fairly well in recent days. I don't notice a ton of new flexiblity yet, but it has been successful enough to make the throbbing ache in my left hip recede into the background.

I laced up the Mizunos and hit the streets this afternoon. The first time in nearly two months.

Although I was taking it slow and steady, after only a few blocks I already could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Never thought it would feel so good to feel so out of shape. I was running again.

Heeding the advice I have been given, I cut it short after a mile or so.

Sure it was a short, short run. I barely was outside for anytime at all. But still, I felt pumped up and was radiating energy when I got home.

Definitely need to keep up on the stretching. The hamstrings remain a problem area. I get on my back, grab one leg just below the knee and then attempt to extend the leg straight to stretch the hamstring.

Anybody have other hamstring stretches that seem to do the job?

I'll try to resist the urge to run again tomorrow, but Friday? Well, I'll be out there again.

After a single outing and a distance that barely qualifies as a run, I know it's crazy to get too far ahead of myself, but I want to sign up for a race. This one looks interesting.....

Reset

2006-12-12T10:21:00.000-06:00

Leaving the physical therapist's office yesterday, I carried a list of instructions for new exercises, a torturing device known as a foam roller.....and hope.

I am going to have to reset my conditioning and my strength.

My injury has caused my left leg to become noticeably weaker than its counterpart on the right. Thus, the exercises. The foam roller may not feel wonderful when being used, but it is remarkable in its ability to knead deep into tight muscles. My pathetically tight hamstrings also drew a rebuke. They very much could have contributed to the injury because it required my quads to bear so much more of the load.

So, the plan is to do the stretching and strengthening exercises twice a day.

But the good news is.....I can resume running!!!

Only about a mile at a time to start. But I'll take it.

Anticipation

2006-12-10T11:35:00.000-06:00

I have been developing and refining my ability to worry - and often come up with worst-case scenarios -- for many years. When I was little, my mom used to refrain from telling me the night before when I had a dentist appointment the next morning, knowing I would worry, worry, worry until the dawn.

Well, I can't really resort to that technique now. Especially considering that I am the one who made the appointment for tomorrow morning with the physical therapist.

Maybe he will finally help me figure out what is going on with my body. Or -- here's the product of Mr. Worst-Case Scenario: he'll tell me I can't run anymore.

Staying off the streets for nearly two months and still feeling pain can't be good.

I have only ventured out running once or twice since the Marathon Debacle. Both times I felt pains in my feet.

Then I dumped my running shoes in the corner of my closet and haven't touched them since. While my feet, and my knee, now are feeling much better -- dare I say, completely healed? -- the pain in my upper thigh still persists. Plus I have some sort of ache or pain in my lower back. That can't be good, right?

Good or bad, on Monday morning I should have some answers.