Idling along on a Sunday morning . . .

. . . .trying to decide what to do.

Not that I lack options or projects. With a 100 year old house, projects I got. Same thing with the businesses. Plus the kids and grandkids.

But it's Sunday morning, and not being the church-going kind of man, that leaves a small amount of uncommitted time. Once upon a time, I'd meet running buddies for a long run, but then I moved. So I reverted to my 'lone wolf' style of running, doing things on my own and, for the most part, enjoying it.

I'll probably tackle a longer run later this morning, head up to the North Asotin Creek trail and play, but that will wait.

I could write a bit (like I'm doing now but only briefly) as a problem I had with the novel fixed itself about the time my sweetie aspirated in the middle of the night. Aspiration. Exactly what I needed. She apologized for waking me; I should apologize for not being more sympathetic at 3AM, but that's what happens to writers. The brain is looking for a connection or solution so it skips the empathy stage and goes to "Aha"!

Yeah, I put the exclamation point in the wrong place. In England or Australia, it would be fine.

I also have a nice start to an article on Jack Welch. Not the GE CEO, but the guy who wrote "When Running Was Young and So Were We". Finally got a handle on it. 400 words so far, figuring it'll hit 2k - Jackdog Welch is an interesting dude. I'll work on that later today, I think.

I checked out my usual Sunday morning book blogs, over at Ace of Spades HQ (not for the faint of heart or persons more liberal but the book blog on Sundays is excellent), and at the KillZoneAuthors blog with the inestimable James Scott Bell.

Now, breakfast.

For those of you who are the church-going type, happy worshiping. For those who worship on the trails, happy running.

End of a Season

We celebrated the end of the cross country season yesterday with ice cream, cookies, and laughter. A lot of laughter.

One of the best moments of the party occurred when Maia and Carmen handed over titles. Early in their xc career, Coach Cowdrey nicknamed them Thing 1 and Thing 2. We never quite nailed down who was which, though it seems that the girls did. It also turned out to mean a lot to them and they decided to pass down the titles.

Ultimately, it turned out that Carmen was Thing 1 and Maia Thing 2. At the party, Maia went first (after rattling a list of nicknames off for everyone including coaches - Coach Cowdrey got "Coach That Only Pretends to be Mean; I got "Magic Pony.") and handed over Thing 2 to Natalie. Carmen read a short piece about what it means to be a Thing and relinquished her Thing 1-ness to Rilynn.

Natalie and Rilynn were both happy to be the new Things, version 2.0 as it were.

Maia asked if we could make this a team tradition. So did Carmen. I told them both the same thing. We don't have to.

They already did.

Back row: Natalie (Thing 2, v2.0), Sam, AJ, Asher, Wyatt, Rilynn (Thing 1, v2.0), Head Coach Steve Cowdrey, Coach Paul.

Middle row: Kyler, Mary Ann, Taylor, Joey, Ryker.

In front: Maia, the original Thing 2 (Left) and Carmen, the original Thing 1 (right.)

Picture courtesy of Suzy Cowdrey.

A Little Homesick. . .

Every once in a while  I see an image that evokes memories, which I think is a sign of getting old.

Last night, it was a picture of a place I used to climb rocks when I was a kid and it came from a Facebook post here. The nostalgic "ahhh" sighed out almost immediately, before the thinking part of the brain really recognized the setting.

The good folks at the Alice Springs Running and Walking Club getting ready for a 10K walk.

The picture that the Alice Springs Running and Walking Club put up is at Simpson's Gap. We - me, my brother, our friends - played there, and at Honeymoon Gap nearby, and a dozen other outposts along the way. We'd hike into the bush far enough to feel intrepid and do boy things, climbing rock towers, hunting lizards, and camping under the most brilliant stars you can imagine.

No one ever asks, but I can trace my love of trails and adventure to the Outback. Every once and a while, it comes back to me in a flash, today in a picture but more often when I run on rough and rocky trails, when the red hues are just right. Sometimes then, I'm still eleven or twelve, and it's all play.

Runners will never have parades

After the Seahawks totally humiliated the Denver Broncos in last year’s Superbowl, the city of Seattle held the traditional parade for the Champions. Seventy thousand people lined the streets and sparked an editorial by Heather Romano in which she lamented the fact that runners are not held in the same esteem. Marathon runners do not get parades and brass bands. The conventional thinking is that the population as a whole doesn’t understand the level of dedication that it takes for Deena Kastor to win a bronze in the Olympics, or for Meb Keflezighi to win Boston.

The conventional thinking is wrong, not because the general population doesn’t get it - it doesn’t - but, then again, it has no real idea of the level of work it takes to be a pro football player, either.

The crux of the issue lies with the way people identify themselves. Humans naturally align themselves with group (tribes is the current parlance for this effect) and cities form a easily recognizable organization. For millennia, people sent out champions to battle. Thus, it isn’t the players of the Seattle Seahawks beat the players of the Denver Broncos. Instead, Seattle beat Denver, our champions beat your champions, and the fans in both cities partook of vicarious participation.

Runners never experience this. If anything, they’re distrusted. A marathoner will be more closely tied to a shoe company, the Team Nike approach, than to a people. The exception to this are the Olympics, a quadrennial opportunity to decry the lack of effort, training, infrastructure, etc. of our athletes. If one somehow happens to win, we cheer appropriately for ten minutes and banish them back to obscurity for another four years. The rest of the time, the professional runner takes on the role of a starving artist, suffering for his or her art.

Like artists, the runner, with a few exceptions, performs solo. Relays might be a little different and cross country, but the interlocking machinery of football doesn’t generally exist in our sport. That is why, on any given day, you can spot a dozen runners out on the road. We don’t marshal the group before we head out the door if we want to run. Not that we don’t run in groups. Obviously we do, but if a running buddy tweaks an ankle and is out, the rest of us go out to cover ground anyway. Football teams are not noted for playing with only ten players on one team and they don’t play without another team to compete against.

That feature, the ability to go out and do it ourselves, defines the line that separates running from football. Very few people can play football, but are drawn to the conflict between the teams, the us versus them nature of the sport. Most of the ‘ball sports - football, basketball, baseball, the other unAmerican football (Soccer) - engage fans who would like to, but can not, play the sport. So they watch, and cheer, and show up at parades.

They’re spectators, and while they congregate for a parade, we head out the door for a run. That’s why we won’t ever see a mass parade for a running champion. Our community, our tribe, isn’t built on city identification and champions. We participate and step into the ring ourselves. Our community, the running tribe, runs.

We do have mass celebrations, and you might call it a parade.

We call it a ‘race’.

Run gently, friends.

---

In the interests of disclosure, I never ran cross country. I played football instead for four years, and threw discus in track season.

Please Enjoy This Musical Interlude . . .

while you wait for a post of some substance. These folks, Pentatonix, are a family favorite. They also have a new Christmas album coming out any day now. After this song is done, take a listen to Little Drummer Boy or Carol of the Bells. They'll blow you away.

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My Inner Child Is Pouting

I just let the dog out to fetch the paper. We don't get newspaper delivery anymore and why he fetches the paper is a story for another time.

The day dawned clear and bright, with just about perfect temperatures to go play on a trail someplace. A bunch await discovery and a photo log by me.

But instead, I'm going to go to work.  Being self-employed I can say this with a fair degree of assurance; the boss sometimes is a jerk. He's got me working seven days this week, and long days at that.

It's putting the kibosh on my running and my writing, and I would whine more except it also finances both. Still, the inner dude wants to play and is feeling pouty.

Hal Koerner's Field Guide to Ultrarunning - Review

While on the flight to Seattle yesterday and back, I had a chance to finish Hal Koerner's Field Guide to Ultrarunning.

Competently written with the assistance of Adam Chase, the guide is well organized from preparation to gear, from training to racing. For those looking for an exciting read into the world of trail ultras, this book will disappoint. At no point does it wax poetic about the trails. Instead, Koerner focused on getting you there, and safely, so you can do the poetic bit yourself. Also, the less romantic bits like eating on the run, handling mud, and where to pee.

One thing that might be misleading to some - this guide is exclusively oriented to trail unltrarunning. Wait, that's not right. It's exclusively oriented to trail racing.

It does not include any ultra road races or 12/24/48 hour events and the unique challenges they pose. If you are intending to try one of those events, you'll need to seek some advice outside the scope of the Field Guide to Ultrarunning.

The book is geared towards ultra-racing more than simply ultrarunning but the principles remain. The cool part about ultrarunning is you really don't need permission or a race entry to go someplace awesome to run. If you've built out the body to handle it and learned how to handle the trails, you have all you need to do an ultra-run, even if you never do an ultra-race.

One pleasant element of the book was Koerner's willingness to use his mistakes as object lessons for the rest of us to learn from. I've maintained that the guy or woman who wins the race isn't always the best runner but the one who makes the least mistakes.

That's how I beat the great Karl Meltzer once and no, it will never happen again.

Anyway, using the real life examples, Koerner does a nice job of showing the results of bad decision-making and, sometimes, just plain bad luck. He offers good advice on how to handle it. When you get to that part of the book, listen. It may save your ultrarunning career.

If you're a marathoner looking to move up, this is a book that should land on your book shelf and be referred to frequently. If you never conceive of doing anything so foolish as an ultra, it's probably not for you.

If you're on the fence, though, get the book. Hal Koerner will lead you through the process, show you it's achievable, and put the tools in your hand to get there.

Once you have the tools, it's up to you to go out and find the poetry on the trail.

Introducing the Young'uns to Trailrunning

We took the kids out yesterday on a recovery run after Wednesday's race and someone thought it would be un to play on the verge of land between the 1st Street houses and the river. We didn't do much of a warm-up, just some light stretching mixed with intermittent shrieking when a largish spider was noted by one of the girls. She didn't do the shrieking - Carmen did. Meanwhile, the boys harassed the spider up the tree. Natch.

We also had flopping, sprinting for the beach, and all the signs that the kids needed to run. Like a puppy that just gets more energy the fitter it gets, the kids  keep getting fitter and the extra energy needs an outlet. Running helps - except they get fitter still.

Anyway, we got the kids moving, me running toward the front and Coach Cowdrey keeping an eye on the back of the pack. Maia and Carmen started up a song while they ran while Sam reverted to ‘mountain bike’ mode, chasing up and down the little bumps and dirt mounds. Everyone else pretty much just ran easily.

When the lead group reached the osprey nest, I gave them a choice – keep going and we’d play on trails or head back and maybe do some drills.

Out we went.

I had already planned to pick up the trails out in the bird sanctuary. At the beginning of the season, I only had two girls ready to handle the extra mileage. On this run, eight of the kids made it. They looked a little stunned when I mentioned to them that we had reached our original turn-around point from the second day of practice and we had plenty more time to play.

We crosses the ditch the Corps of Engineers dug, I guess to help salmon, walking across the large watermelon-sized river rock. Once on the other side, I led them out, dodging around the scrub trees, under limbs, between saplings.

They kids loved it. “It’s real trailrunning!” came drifting up. We came out of the small wooded section into the sunlight and ran for a few more minutes before it was time to head back. None of the kids wanted to turn back for the school, a clear sign that the run was a success.

There were some adventures. Coach Cowdrey and the group behind me found a rattlesnake. Wisely, no one poked at it. Still, Coach Cowdrey had them turning a little early and then went to join up with us. To avoid the snake, we came back along the alleys. I had the group that wore down and we walked back in – the kids discovered that trailrunning is a little tougher on the legs and got tuckered out a bit faster.

All in all, we arrived at the school two minutes late, a bit dusty, a bit sweaty, and happy.

Yep, I was lollygagging again

I was at the Pomeroy meet for District 9 yesterday. I have a couple of posts over at InlandXC.

Also, I am back to working seven days a week for the foreseeable future. Blogging may get light. Never fear, I'll find something to put up. Might be cat pictures, though. Or interesting (to me) links.

Like this one from Laura Fleshman - Do I Look Like a Man?

Short answer - No.

Longer answer - Heck no.

Go read it and form your own opinion.

Choices

Figured out what I needed for the novel. Anger, lots of it. Used to be addicted to the stuff, beat it once. Potent as hell, and hard as hell to control.

So can I run and write this novel at the same time? Running puts me in a happy place.

I dunno.

Traipsing through Eagle Creek Park

I toured Eagle Creek Park Sunday, I took off from here. The little paved trail on the left is the Blue Trail, 4.0 miles. Paved? Dirt?

Dirt, definitely dirt.

I took an hour and a half, doing a run/walk around the Red Loop (see the little sign?) which runs the perimeter of the park. Total length is about 6.75 miles per the guide. 

The first hints of the fall season, glimpsed across the lake.

There is a causeway that leads out to a bird sanctuary. Photographers set up cameras to take pictures of the wildlife. In the meantime, I watched a pair of cardinals playing in the brush. I think it's been twenty years or more since I've seen cardinals. 

For those that live around me in the Lewis-Clark Valley, the green surprises and delights. 

I have a knack for finding single track. Usually, it happens by accident and involves missing turns. I call this creative navigation. Others call it getting lost. Either way, it's Bonus! miles. 

Go Ape

No classes today, so in the time between checking out and heading for the airport, I went and played at Eagle Creek Park about 15 miles outside of Indianapolis.

No exploration would be complete without the random discovery or two. About four miles into the run/walk, I found that cool little thing that moves a run from pleasant to darned memorable. Since there’s a road into the same spot, I think you could skip the running portion, if you were so inclined.

I cleared a parking lot, ducked back into the woods and found a group of people Going Ape. Go Ape is a company that offers the daring (and the wannabe daring) a chance to run a zipline, walk a rope bridge (where were they when I was writing Trail?), and climb through a tunnel in the sky. Very, very cool.

Safety first. Go Ape staff teach the customers how to strap in, clip on, and land safely.

In my usual bashful manner, I meandered over to a young man, Joe by name, who maintained a diligent observation on the people twenty feet above him, alternating encouraging comments, advice, and congratulations as the adventurers passed over head.

The staff at Go Ape starts everyone off with a safety course, but even that looked entertaining. They did a great job of prepping the folks while teaching them what they needed for safety – tying off, snapping on, and breathing. The last made me smile.

Joe, watching the ascent. The person in the picture crossed a zipline,, completed a second into the net, and then climbed tot he platform with the rope bridge.

Joe was at the first station, where the customers climb a tree and being their aerial antics. I wandered the venue, interrupting the run, for about ten minutes.

According to Joe, his favorites are the ones that come in, well beyond their comfort level, but discover the gumption to tackle the ropes and lines and bridges anyway. Joe loved watching the confidence grow and the joy that these particular customers showed.

“I wish it could be free,” said Joe. I’m not sure that the company would agree but the prices didn’t seem too out of whack for what they offered.

Go Ape is expanding – they have seven locations right now, three in the Midwest, three in the Mid-Atlantic, and one lonely spot in Myrtle Beach – but they seem to be infilling the current country, not expanding west toward me.

Rats.

Tunnel to the left, a zip line, a bridge, and probably more that I don't recognize. There's a long zip line to the right out of the picture. One person that looked nervous at the start nearly jumped off on the last zip line. What a hoot!

One grandson, Jeffrey, is ready right now and would have an absolute blast. I’m not too sure that Marie would buy in, but I think that Kaylyn and Emma would shriek at the chance when they get a smidge bigger. The others need a little growth before we figure that out.

Still, a cool thing to watch and made the run. The park is beautiful (I’ll post some pictures and an article tomorrow sometime) and the weather perfect for a hike, but watching the joy on the faces of everyone pushing a boundary or two made it quite the excellent little hike.

Done! First Writing Seminar

Well, heck, that went entirely too fast, though I think my brain is now in total overload.

Spending sixteen hours with one of the best selling authors in America - Dave Farland aka Dave Wolverton - while he goes over the ins and outs of writing and publishing is like a brief visit to the Olympic Training Center for athletes. A nice taste of what might be, but only if I put in the time, effort, and energy.

I took pages and pages of notes that I'll have to organize and review, then get it locked in.

In the meantime, I need to figure out dinner.

Last night, I found a small Greek restaurant, family run and warm, filled with friends. I'm not sure I want to work that hard to find another restaurant, so I might resort to whatever I can walk to.

The Greek restaurant is going to make an appearance in a book someday. If you come across a line about the kind of place where you lose daughters to the smiling waiters with ridiculous good looks, that'll be the place.

Me, I got lost in the lamb cutlets, red wine, and a great conversation with one of the other patrons.