I like the Idea of Running

My brother has always been a runner. He ran cross country track in high school and then the endless miles heaped onto him by drill Sergeants at Paris Island. He often says boot camp was his favorite part of his tour of duty. I liked the idea but hated the running.

My step-sister runs marathons; three last summer alone. She wants to do ultra marathons; I guess the distance that killed Euripides is not enough. She is one of those dedicated souls that will run for three hours after midnight, if her gig lasted too long into the evening. I liked the idea of running but it scared me.

My memories of running in my youth are ones of disappointment and various levels and types of pain. Always those damn shin splints, and the feeling someone is poking a poniard into your ribcage and slowly turning it. My breathing always sounded like staccato jazz.

I have been running. The first run this year was about a mile and the second about two miles. They felt a lot better than my memories. Cycling had made me fitter than I expected. The stabbing dagger and staccato breaths were gone, and I felt my cardio could handle the distance.

I went out for a third run at the pace of a dripping glacier. I did not know how far I would go but a trip to the YMCA and back seemed plausible. The first two runs I wore some beat down sneakers and a pair of old school Addidas respectively. Neither worked well, this outing I wore a pair of Tennis Court shoes, which offered some comfort and the feeling of Herman Munster clomping down the stairs. I could control my breaths and keep a steady plodding rhythm. I discovered later I ran 4.5 miles.

I got fitted for a pair of New Balance and have managed several runs since. I have kept with the same course, a few tenths shorter with a better route. Although those damn shin splints still remain they only last for about the first twenty minutes. My stride is starting to open up and feel natural. New muscles are awakening on the fronts of my legs. I think there is a 5K maybe 10K in the near future. I like the idea of running and maybe the running itself.

Dusty Dew Clouds

Dusty dew clouds clung close to their mother and rambled across the fields like listless apparitions. The mercury held just above freezing and the damp fingers of the fog infiltrated the layers of miracle fabric putting a chill on the skin. In a fog this dense medieval armies would pass one another never being aware of the others presence. Even in a metropolis, it is quiet on these crisp mornings when civilians stay tucked by the hearth dreaming of excuses for missing Sunday services.

Like soldiers in the pressing dawn we pulled on our armor, mounted spoked steeds, pushed off and disappeared into the billowing curtains of white. An early strong pace shook off the shivers and created some warmth stretching into the fingers. As we rode through the cloud, lenses beaded with moisture and evolved into mini waterfalls just in front of your eyes. The beaded dew created goatees and eyebrows on everyone faces and a white sheen on everyone’s clothing.

After passing the neighborhoods of ticky-tacky we reached the farmsteads of Lucas and Allen. The rows of the fields, still dormant from last season, reached away from us and disappeared into the cold fog. Steeples and tree tops tried to assert their magnificence by poking out of the snowy pillows only to be swallowed again. A white horse with brown spots surreally stood out from the cloud of mist that both framed and hid it from view. The horse may have been enjoying the quiet of the morning, as it did not comment at our passing, or it may have been a dream at the edge of a cold and oxygen deprived consciousness.

I built up an IRO track bike yesterday, and was quite excited to ride it. An easy group ride passes close to my house on Wednesdays so I jumped in as they passed. I have been doing this ride on and off for over a year but generally it is too easy for me so I use it as a recovery ride, but with the track bike with one on gear 46X16 and no breaks I thought it would make it more of a challenge. I jumped in and saw a friend of mine and I pulled up next to him and started chatting. He is a Cat2 trackie and was excited to see I finally had a track bike.

So we are having a nice conversation when this older dude pulls up to me and says, "This is a PBA sanctioned ride. You don't have any brakes on that bike, it is unsafe to ride in a group and I don't want you on this ride." I mean not even a hello my name is... nothing just jumped into what the fuck he wanted. I am a member of PBA, this is a public roadway and if you don't want to ride with me then drop back, but I didn't say anything. I just looked at my friend and we both shook our heads and continued our conversation ignoring his stupid ass.

We get to the first stoplight and he pulls up to me again and says, "Did you hear me, I said I don't want you on this ride. There are inexperienced people in this group and you won't be able to stop in time." This guy doesn't know me from Adam nor does he know my skill level or abilities so that was a hell of an assumption on his part. I learned a long time ago it is not worth pandering to these types of idiots, so I replied, "If you are worried about me stopping then I will ride up front and pull, and you can ride in the rear out of harm's way."

Which is precisely what he did. He went to the rear and intentionally created a gap between himself and the slower riders and the lead group, so we left him. What a tool.

Otherwise it was a great ride and one hell of a workout. Climbing hills and sprinting with the group with only one gear was twice the work in half the time. Can't wait to hit the velodrome this weekend!