Project Hiatus

You may have noticed that I have not posted in a while.  Not for lack of interest, but for lack of opportunity.  I am still running, albeit a lot less than I would like.  I am in the midst of a separation from my wife and that has put quite the crunch on.  It is a terrible situation, with two little girls involved as well.  They are my focus, so I have to put this on hold.  I made it to approximately Dover-Foxcroft.  Hopefully I can pick this back up in the spring...hopefully.  I am in a significantly different place than I ever thought I would be.  Maybe this winter I can find myself.

Where am I?

I started to do a post on Presque Isle and became frustrated.  Frustrated with the fact that there is not a lot here.  I have not done a post on where I was for a while and I thought it time.  I am heading south, still, on the Aroostook Scenic Highway on Route 11.  West of Oakfield, north of Patten but nearing I95. 

Here approximately.  At some point I have crossed out of Aroostook County and into Penobscot.  Being on a scenic highway I decided that I will post a few pictures.  Not of me, but of where I am. While searching for those, I found this about Aroostook County:

When Maine coined the slogan "The Way Life Should Be," someone from Aroostook County was clearly on the committee. We are like a foreign nation up here in The County (what the rest of Maine calls our huge chunk of moose-blessed real estate)-- closer to Canada than any significant population of fellow-Americans. And we (proudly) are not of the times. We grow potatoes and look for the longest checkout line at the store so we'll have more time to chat. We grow potatoes and watch the Parade of Lights come down Main Street in Presque Isle on a -10° night. We grow potatoes and probably have more churches per capita than any other place else on earth because the spirit of Maine individuality dictates that theological schisms be resolved by one party splintering off and starting a new religion. We're friendly, tolerant, helpful, grateful to be alive and appreciative of our beautiful surroundings. We're also honest and trusting, the way people should be.

I like the sentence with "theological schisms."  Here are the relevant photos of what I found.

Notice how I have the sunset at the end?  That's the way it should be.

The Tragedy of Time

Chatting with a colleague this week made me realize there is a downside to competing for time.  She was asking about some time off and was I going to do anything fun.  Yes, I usually take the day after a race off.  A recovery day.  Just in case something major happened or I have that weird little metabolic issue kick up; it makes me dizzy.  Or, the most likely culprit, I am hung-over.

She is a runner, goes out for thirty minutes every other day and enjoys the run.  Just for the run’s sake.  I am a runner, too.  Each of my runs has a purpose.  To make me faster.  She shook her head and said she could not do that, she just likes to run.  There might be something to that.  She is never dissatisfied with a run.  I frequently am.  She is never preoccupied with a pre-race meal or a taper or the pace with which an interval is run.  I am.  She is never disappointed by her effort.

I have gotten so preoccupied with setting a new PR, placing where I want to place, and maintaining an even pace, I have lost my perspective.  I am training for a race where I feel I could have done better last year.  During my final tempo trainer, I bonked.  It was hot, I had not eaten or drank properly before going out, and I went out too fast.  Shortly after half way I stopped and backed way off willing myself to just finish the run.  I ended the run ten seconds slower than last year’s race time, and I had screwed it up.  I have got to remember that I am now achieving times on a messed up trainer that, three years ago, I would have never believed they would be associated with my name.

I have also lost sight of the beauty of running.  Being the only man in an office of women for three years taught me one thing.  Beauty can have a purpose.  I can have a purpose to my running.  I can’t lose sight that, while my performance might be less than my expectation, I am still doing something beautiful.

Doldrums

I am ticking towns from Maine off the list. I have taken the first miles west and, currently, I am heading south down Route 11, The Aroostook Scenic Highway, from Ashland to Sherman.  From there I will continue south on 11 to Medway and turn west again toward Millinocket . In Travels with Charley, Steinbeck started his cross country route in a similar area. If memory serves me, he got very bored. My intention was to profile all of these neat little running communities across the country; however, this is not working out so well. I am finding that there are not a lot of runners where there are not a lot of people. This utopia of welcoming running communities does not exist.

This is not to say that Maine has no welcoming running communities. The people that run that I have made contact with are welcoming. Even the people who are not runners were very welcoming. It does give way to a math lesson. Let’s say 5% of the population runs. That means there are less than 1000 runners in all the cities I have profiled. Total. The only way I am going to find these people is through the internet, and, then they have to want to be contacted, and respond. They also have to love running so much they are on the internet talking about running, or in a race result. My chances of finding one of these people every 20 or so miles is slim. Steinbeck became frustrated with Maine, and I will admit I did too. Then I got to thinking about it on tonight's four miler. How could I get frustrated with a place for not having what I wanted. It's not Maine, it's me.

I am coming out of a poor running month. The week before the race I look forward to most, I got sick. Nothing major, just a cold with some body aches. The timing was terrible. I was very well prepared, but no running for eight days before the race and I had to bail on a run that was to be a 5k does things to the mind. Still not feeling well the week after caused me to just plain not go on two more. My elder daughter is giving us a difficult time with going to bed and there were some nights that five miles at 10:30 seemed impractical. Family reunion, hangover(s), allergies, the list goes on. It adds up to a lack of motivation.

Tonight marked one of the changes in seasons for me. Starting with the first of the year, inside, then as it warms inside nights and outside weekends, then as it gets lighter outside all the time, then as it gets darker inside nights and outside weekends again before returning inside. Tonight was back inside at night. While this does yield some flexibility in when I run; I don't like it. 'Tis the season of late summer doldrums.

The fitness center smells the same. This time of year there is the additional smell of chlorine from the pool. I did not want to be in there and as I started the mill it made a noise like I had been the last one on it so many miles ago. Mile one was creaky, for both of us. In mile two there was no joy in Mudville. I wanted to stop, the inferiors were restless. Virtually silent when I am outside, they reared their ugly voices. I consciously made the decision to go on. It is not like I was killing myself, either. I could sustain this pace for a long way if I needed to. After I hit half way the tide started turning. I had the thought about Maine vs Me, and I thought about the drudgery of the winter season, but the more I thought about the more I seemed like a tour de force. I can tick off towns in Maine and be out of there by Thanksgiving. I can register for a couple of races and my training will take care of the mileage. If I use the mill and schedule properly I might gain some pretty good speed over the winter. By the time I get to the Hudson River Valley I will be outside again.

Doldrums broken, motivation rejuvenated in four easy miles. Maybe the mill is not so bad after all. All those good thoughts happened on the mill. As I left it dawned on me that I still loath the mill. All of that happened in my head. My head happened to be on the mill. My head loves to run, no matter where.

Life's little reset button

Taking the first steps west is refreshing.  Having started out cruising around the crown of Maine for a month going every direction but west on a cross country journey from east coast to west, now, finally headed in the right direction.  This is nice.

I usually run after work.  I like the division.  Pushing hard at work, sometimes having a good day, sometimes not, but that run right after is just the ticket.  You think better when you are running.  It allows you to process the day, and, if your run is long enough, you stop thinking.  By the time I get home, and ready to settle into the evening I am refreshed.

I find also that if I have to miss a run, or have not had the quality for which I am looking, things can get noisy in my mind.  When I first started running it was toward the end of a significant weight loss.  At the time I had lost roughly sixty pounds walking and using Weight Watchers.  Not walking like strolling about, but walking to the point of becoming sweaty and winded.  The next logical step was get out there.  After that first run I knew something had changed.  I came to realize that I had lived my entire life with an incredible amount of white noise in my head.  Like standing next to a powerful fan and that first run, and all the subsequent ones, shut it off and keep it shut down.

Missing a few, for one reason or another, allows it start back up.  Then I muster the gumption to head back out and I feel like an enormous weight is lifted.  Life becomes clear again, and I have discarded the distorted perspective.  I notice it with my wife, too.  Having two children she has had two hiatuses (hiati?)  She is just starting running for the third time.  I can see the change in her mind.  I think that is one of the reasons why runners gravitate toward each other. 

The only why I know how to describe it is addiction.  At first it is a habit; then it gets so you need it.  As far as addictions go, I like this one.

Dash and Splash

I have gotten out of the habit of posting, mostly because I have gotten out of the habit of running.  I had a race, and, as has become custom, I got sick the week before.  I was encouraged, though, because I came down with it a full eight days before race day and began Cold Eeze and increasing fluids.  No luck, I still got sick.  Being over thirty I can't shake colds in three days anymore.  Here I am 12 days later and it is the first day I felt good all day.  So I ran five and a half today.

I ran the race though.  It is my home course.  My parents, and I, live in upstate New York.  We do not live together.  Visiting them frequently I run this course whenever I am down there.  At the turn for the 5k you could see their mailbox.  There are no long hills or arduous climbs, but there are a lot of quick ups and downs that make it a challenging course.  Enough so that it is tough to PR, which I did not do.  I put in a ton of intervals and tempo runs and got to run 2.5 miles in the week leading up.  I am left feeling like I could have done better.  Possibly cracked into a 22:xx for the course.  I have decided that I like feeling like I could not have done any better.  In this case, I could have.  I think.  Check out the results.  It is the 2011 Keuka Lake Dash and Splash.  I am in 36th.

The absolute best part of the race is the bar-b-q at my folks after.  Everyone brings some food and I throw on some chicken speedies.  This year the Utica Club was my treat, and my dad volunteered some Molson Canadians and Genny Light.  Cheap beer is always more fun with friends.  And it was fun.  Thank you to JP, Mary Ann, Deborah Ann, Rick, Ellie, my wife Erica, my parents Russ and Judy.  I won't lie.  The best part was not the party.  The best part was high fiving my daughter, Irene, at the turn.  I could see she didn't think I would do it; but, was elated that I did.  She hi fived Mommy, too.

I will post the Presque Isle post in a few days time.  I actually made contact with someone up in Aroostook Country and am working on a time to talk with him about the running club.  I have made my first few steps west through Presque Isle and am 12 miles out of my next target city where I will turn south again.  I have some good stuff coming.  Including getting into the mountains of Maine.

I am still here

I am still out here.  It turns out I am fallible.  Last Sunday I reached Presque Isle and I am working on that post.  In the time since I got a cold.  I did not run or feel well.  I ran 2.5 this morning and felt like absolute poopie.  I have not given up on my task and I am headed West; Sunday is a race.  Here is to a good race, more coherent posting, and that interview I have scheduled with the President of the Aroostook Mustherds.