Runners can be . . . Touchy

Fair warning, you need to bring a sense of humor today. For our jumping off point, let's start with an article from Philadelphia, titled A message to runners: shutttttt uppppppp! The article itself is pretty funny, but it probably should have come with a trigger warning for the sensitive types. Based on the comments at the article, The Evster entertained some of us and managed to offend a few runners. A lot of them took it very, very personally.

Too bad.

HIs basic premise, that runners incessantly talk about running, how many miles they completed, their pace, the food they ate to PR in the local 5K, and how virtuous it makes them, is spot on. We also talk, though more discreetly, about bowel movements, snot rockets, and how to spit, with the usual warnings not to expectorate on thy fellow runner's shoe.

He's got a point. Runners love to talk about their sport, with the zeal of the newly converted seeking to proselytize. Old runners tend just to go out the door and run but start following runners on twitter and you'll get a daily deluge of mileages, and heartrates, and #runderfulrunners hashtags. Read the magazines, and it's a unending pitch for more running gear interposed with articles to run faster. (I'm excepting Like the Wind from that, though.)

From the magazines and blogs, I don't know how I ever managed to run a step without my FitBit GPS-enable wrist appliance that doubled as a music player/cell phone/text-messenger/selfie-taker while it measured steps taken, pace, altitude adjustments, relative and personal humidity levels, and the current state of my sleep patterns. I've been assured that all this is necessary to run. Gone are the days where a pair of shoes, a pair of shorts, and a tee shirt (optional - and yes, it's sexist) got you out the door.

Interestingly, it's not the elite runners who talked gear and miles and OMG GREAT RUN!. The elites mostly post of the people they're running with, and the joy, though you'll catch some of the marketing from their sponsors. The point is, the elites talk about a bunch of stuff that inspires them, not themselves. They tend to celebrate the successes of others.

The article even managed to trigger a debate on Letsrun.com, too. Several of the Letsrunners pinned the blame squarely on the hobby-joggers, with a couple saying they just don't talk about running with non-runners. Skipping for a moment the irony of the semi-pros at Letsrun thinking the hobby-joggers take it too seriously (first reaction), the fact that the second reaction is to simply protest that the sad little non-runners just don't understand how hard running is, is rich.

Non-runners know how hard running is - that's why they don't do it. Almost everyone has run at some point in their life, either through the threat of failing PE or because someone in a hockey mask was right behind them with a chef's knife. Some time in life, even non-runners ran. They just don't like it. That's okay.

Now if a non-runner wanted to buried me under a hundred tweets about the greatness of French films, I'd find that a touch boring. As in, I would nod off and likely start snoring. People talking about fishing have the same effect. To each, their own, I guess.

Maybe - and this is just a wild thought - maybe if we didn't inundate people with running, and actually laughed at ourselves a little bit, we wouldn't see articles like this. Or at least, not get offended by some poking some fun in our direction.

Run gently friends and find something to laugh about today.

Paul

Meeting Heroes and Friends

John L. Parker introduced me to Quentin Cassidy and, along the way, set the standard for running fiction. For two generations, Once a Runner has inspired runners seeking the answer to breaking through to the next level and Parker delivered it in Cassidy's story of commitment, sacrifice, and work, and then he delivered the dream in a racing scene that hasn't been equaled since. Now, in Racing the Rain, Parker is back to tell the story of the childhood Cassidy, before the track, when he flew barefoot ahead of the thunderclouds

Jack Welch sits down across from the great runners in history, and with a hint of the beatnik, teases out the real-life tales and puts them into a book so the rest of us can look them in the eyes and get their measure. Not just the immortals like Rodgers and Decker, but the rest of the greats like Patti Catalano and the elusive Gerry Lindgren. He put them all in When Running Was Young and So Were We and won the Track and Field Writers Association honors for best track book in 2014.

The Diamond League meet happens in less than a month at storied Hayward Field at what’s now known as Track Town, USA. The best in the world will step into the arena to measure themselves against each other and their most relentless opponents, the clock and tape.

A group of us will be there to watch, John and Jack among them.  Few other visiting writers, some of whom will be working to build an ambitious new history of Eugene. Hopefully, one will be Kenny Moore. Kenny Moore, author of Bowerman and the Men of Oregon, writes in a beguilingly smooth style that sits you down next to Bill and entertains you as he leads the exploration into America’s most famous track coach.

Don Kardong may make the trip, if organizing another successful Bloomsday didn't wear him out.

And me. I'll be there. Some of these folks are heroes. I can ask almost anyone for anything, but I couldn't bring myself to ask John Parker to read Finishing Kick. When I wrote the novel, I set it deliberately as the women's answer to Once a Runner and tried to make the racing as inspiring, the lessons hidden within story, and the joy of running flow off the page. I finally sent him a copy last month, after I read a review copy of Racing the Rain.

Some of them, like Jack, are becoming friends.

The Pre Classic won't be the only meet that I'll be attending this month that has heroes and friends, though. Tuesday I headed out to watch a junior high meet. I coached some of these kids in cross country and think the world of them. A couple of them came by to say "hi" before their race, and then stood around wondering what else to say. Me, too. It gets easier, I've discovered, as they get older and graduate. In the meantime, I get to be their biggest fan and cheer them on while I add to my happy memories.

The coach of the middle school team is a running buddy. He manages all the kids with a humor that more of us should emulate when life gets screwy. The coach of the high school, Tim Gundy, is also a friend, and a heck of a runner. I haven't seen him all season, but I'll catch up with him and the distance kids at the district meet.

Tim won't have time to chat - that will have to wait until the summer. For now, he's focused on his kids. It says something that the kids universally love him. Tim is much more than a track or cross country coach. I talked to Pat Tyson, the coach at Gonzaga University. The two of them share a lot of character traits, humility and compassion high on that list.

The high school coaching gig doesn't have the cache of coaching the Buffaloes and, with rare exceptions, most of the athletes won't see their names emblazoned on Running Times. It's here that the youngsters learn to dream and begin to believe. Some, a very few, will achieve great heights. All will care, and never more than during these years.

In the glitz of the Prefontaine Classic, it becomes easy to forget that all these athletes started someplace away from the glitz and media attention. It began with a passion, and probably a good coach, and a little luck. Most will have picked out a hero or two to inspire them and dream of reaching the Olympic oval or famous tracks of Europe, the Armory, or Eugene. For those that make it, stories will be told of their exploits, the daring tactics, or the incredible level of commitment. Writers will flock to them. Fans will cheer.

One or two of the high schoolers may make it to Eugene to race someday. Most won't even if they have the burning passion, the work ethic, the guts. Not all of my heroes sit in rarified heights - I'll be cheering for those kids and their coaches, and telling some of their stories, too.

Give that kid a prize!

Today I'm taking a detour on running stuff to talk about high school. We'll get back to running over the weekend as I put together an article on how my experience with a coach has progressed.

Tuesday, I cleared my schedule and headed up to Spokane. I had two missions and a quest. The first mission was an interview with Pat Tyson, the head XC coach at Gonzaga University. Pat is every bit a gentleman and it's easy to see why he has enjoyed so much success coaching. He's incredibly positive, calling out by name students, athletes, and friends as they past us on the way to classes. More on that visit on another day.

The second mission was to visit a creative writing class at Mead High School. Dori Whitford is the teacher, the track coach, and one of my biggest fans. I offered last year to visit, meet her class and her xc team, and had a blast, so I offered to do it again during the spring semester.

What a joy! The group is eclectic in personality. I sat in with a group while they did a reading of their work in progress. I didn't have the entire backstory to work with, but the young man put together an engaging piece of writing that was imaginative and held together nciely.

Dori shared a paper from another young lady, a future writer. She's sixteen or seventeen but she has the eye of an author and a voice of her own that was apparent from the first page.

I also had a chance to meet a young lady who has been getting updates (too infrequently!) on my current book and has been hugely supportive. She had to ask special permission to visit the creative writing class instead of going to math. That's a high compliment that she offered me - I'm not sure she realizes that, but when I'm writing, she's one of the ideal readers that I hold in my head.

When I say the eye of an author, by the way, I'm talking about something quite specific and I'm not sure it can be taught. It the ability to see that one thing that defines a person or a thing or a behavior and be able to express it. It goes beyond simply seeing what is present. Like the chain of a knotted necklace folded into itself, there is one link, when you pull it, begins to unravel the whole length until the charm at the end shows through.

There's always that one person who seems to know which link to pull. When she does, the rest of us stand around and think, "How did she do that?"

In writing, we think, "I wish I could do that." You'll hear the same thing in writing with dialogue. Some writers have a knack for capturing the voice of their characters without resorting to the clumsy use of patois to get the point across. The word choices are subtle, the pacing and the rhythm shift, and the voice becomes unique to the character. The writers that pull that off have great ears. They listen and distill, and then know the words to pour on the page to bring it to life for the rest of us.

This girl has those kind of eyes. Dori called her over before the class got start. I could see repressed excitement, and a little fear, when Dori  told her that I had read part of her work. I made the comment about her eye for the telling detail. I'm not sure she realized she lifted almost onto tippy-toes while we talked and she needs to focus on breathing, but I really hope she keeps writing and working at learning the craft of writing.

The prize, though, goes to a young man in the back of the class.

I brought in copies of my books, including the new home inspection book. We were about halfway through the class when he raised his hand and asked a simple question.

"Did you know you have a grammatical error on the cover?"

The oxygen level in the room went to zero as all the kids sucked in air and I'm pretty sure my eyebrows were trying to climb over my forehead.

"I do?" (I'm great with witty repartee - always after the fact.)

He read it to me. I did. And twenty pairs of eyeballs waited to see what the Author in front was going to do.

I exploded with, "Thank you!"

Which might have been the most shocking thing I could have said to him, and in front of all of them. I reinforced the thank you with a  quick lecture on always thanking people that have helped you in your writing. This young man had done me a very large favor in pointing out something that literally hundreds of people had missed, including some professionals.

It impressed me that he had the gumption to speak up, both in front of the class and in front of me, and ask an honest question that would be sure to elicit  response. There was no way for him to know how I would react.

Neat, neat kids, all the way around. I enjoyed all the questions about writing and self-publishing, and even the discussion on story-telling after the class was over.

The quest was to find a particular wine shop. I found it - and it was closed. Sadness.

"The Dude buys a stopwatch."

The title comes from Bill Bowerman's book called "Jogging" in the section on how to jog. The idea of jogging isn't the first to immediately come to mind when you bring William J. Bowerman, co-founder of Nike, coach of Pre, into mind. Usually, it's the magnificent runners charging across the Eugene landscape, or powering through the final lap at Hayward that catch our imagination, not a very pedestrian jogger out on the road.

Yet, more than any one individual, except perhaps Dr. Kenneth Cooper, did more to set the spark to the original running boom in the United States. He did so after his well-publicized visit to New Zealand and meeting with Arthur Lydiard. Embarrassed by his own lack of fitness, he returned to the States an acolyte for running for everyone instead just the elite masses.

In Jogging, Bowerman lays out a simple-to-follow program of exercise in 127 pages. Most of those pages are devoted to one of the three training programs but the first forty pages or so is devoted to everything you need to start a jogging habit now. Those introductory pages include the reasoning behind the program, namely we're an unfit nation - in 1967, mind you! That assessment certainly will not have changed. He also gives the new jogger all the tools needed to run. For clothing, anything loose and comfortable from your drawer, a pair of shoes, though not necessarily running shoes ("You may purchase a pair [of running shoes] or get by nicely with what you have at home.")

That's it. For timing, he suggested a wristwatch or pocket watch. Nothing was so exact with a jogging program that a few seconds of sloppiness in the timing department would ruin things. You can almost hear the derision in Bowerman's voice when he writes, "The dude buys a stop watch." For those of you under, well my age, dude hasn't always been a greeting you toss at your friends. It used to be a term more synonymous with a dandy or a pretender.

Bowerman also reserved some pointed remarks for the sports culture in the country. Again, remember that it was 1967. Things have not improved. He makes the interesting point that most ordinary people have been discriminated against in the field of sports. The best coaching, equipment, and venues are reserved for two groups: professional athletes, and youngsters. Before you scoff, go to a big city and try to access the school track outside of school hours. There's an excellent chance that the gates are locked and, if you're caught on 'their' track, you'll be warned against trespassing. Grossmont Community College in San Diego comes immediately to mind.

Bowerman favored the creation of running clubs but I'm not sure what he would have thought of our current crop. I suspect he'd be a bit dismayed. One of the admonitions in the back of the book as he talks of forming clubs, both formal and informal, was this: "Watch out for the "professional," who urges you "ever upward." This type of instructor regards you as something akin to un-American if you don't strive all the time. That's not what jogging is about."

Something to think about the next time you head for the track and I'll throw in another question as a bonus.

Are you having fun?

Time to Catch My Breath

Over at letsrun.com, they're having a fun little thread about middle school coaching and proper breathing techniques. Since I help coach the same age range, I put my two cents in. I spend a bit of time working with them on abdominal or belly breathing, but it really isn't a major focus given the really short season we have to work with.

The other thing I teach them is sequencing. In. Out. In. Out. And at every race I remind them of that little factoid. Some of the parents will laugh but it helps a lot of them. Not that they literally forget to breathe, but it gives them something to focus on other than their nerves.

In my case, I breathe about as well as a corked bottle of wine. I compensate by being very mechanically efficient and do the best that I can to improve oxygen uptake. There are a ton of books that will proclaim to teach a runner how to get more air in, and there's plenty of workouts, too.

I find that long intervals do the best job of driving improvement on lung power as well as long steep hills. Unfortunately, I haven't been doing either lately, so while my legs have gotten a lot stronger, I haven't picked up any noticeable top end speed.

That will probably be the case for the next couple of months while I build up my base to handle the mileage around the Seven Devils. Once the base is built, I'll do some sharpening to bring the lung power online for the trip.

And, just in that little description, you get an idea on why teaching breathing techniques to the kids isn't a good time investment. We only have eight weeks total. So, yes, we give them some exposure to the ideas behind breathing and running, but much more of our time is spent getting the kids fit enough to run the entire race and stay healthy at the same time.

Plus have fun.

If you click on the letsrun link, check out the name of the guy posing the question. Middle school Drama. Funny, because every year Steve and I promise "No drama." Every year, we're wrong - though last year set a new speed record.

Run gently folks. Don't forget to breathe. In. Out.

Finally! Got to watch a JR HS meet yesterday.

I've been working six and seven days a week but finally managed to carve out time to go watch some of the junior high kids competing out in Lapwai. When you don't have any kids running, watching is much more enjoyable.

I also had a chance to visit with a former Asotin runner, back to cheer on her sister, and several of the families who's children were just behind mine at the school.

The first one to spot me was Sam Dickerson as he sidled up next to me with a "What's up, coach." I missed his 1600m race but it was good to see him. He said the heat got to him a little bit (it was our first day pushing 80 degrees) but seemed pleased with his effort.

Didn't take many pictures, too busy cheering instead.

Free Range Parenting

From 1972 to 1976, my family lived in Alice Springs, Australia. At the time, it had a population of about 13,000 people, and no major grocery store, movie theatre (though it did have a drive-in), bowling alley, or mall. What it did have was abundant space for a teenage boy to get in the appropriate amount of trouble.

Sometimes inappropriate amounts, too, since teenage boys are inclined to do dumbass things like set the lawn on fire. Here on the Palouse, the adults set whole fields on fire, so I think I should get a retroactive pass on that particular infraction. Just saying . . .

My brother and I, on a regular basis, would shove a can of beans into the sleeping bag and head into the bush with our friends. When asked where, we'd kind of wave a hand in the general direction we intended to go. Parents would nod. It was understood that we should be home at a reasonable time the next morning.

Sleepovers (always outside in sleeping bags and sometimes tents) were augmented with a midnight trip downtown to the donut shop/Christian center next to the pizzeria. They had the best donuts ever, and I first started drinking coffee there.

Random Saturdays would see us climbing Mount Gillam, random granite formations, or heading off to the pool on our own. Lizard hunting was popular, too.

When we got back to the States, we wore the tread off bike tires, hiked the woods behind the house, and messed around with pellet guns. Again, general notice was required to be given and permission was pretty much assumed baring a major punishment.

When I became an adult and had kids, we encouraged them to head outside and play. Yep, needed to know roughly where they were at and with who, but the kids were relatively free to explore. My with and I used the same admonitions as our parents. Don't get into trouble. Be home by dinner/dark, whichever came first.

They have a term for such bad parenting behavior now - Free Range Parenting. In Maryland, they'd like to make it a crime. The authorities get substantial help from busybodies who apparently have no idea that the world has gotten safer, not more dangerous. In this case, CPS abducted the kids, held them for five hours, and then returned them to the parents.

Now my daughters are having kids and I am tickled that they are raising free range youngsters. I'm watching as they grow more competent and independent as they learn how to conduct themselves in a variety of environments and discover their own capabilities.

You know, the kind of things that lead to adulthood.

Pictures from the Trail, and Stories about the Three I Missed

Went running up in Field Springs today. It was snow-free all the way around my loop. On the way in, I got to see a pair of small does crossing the road. They stood watching me until it dawned on their pretty little brains that the big blue FJ might squash them. They moved before I got the camera ready. Rats.

I dressed down at the upper lot - I opted for a sleeveless shirt and shorts because the temps were in that perfect mid-50's. If it had rained, it might have been a touch uncomfortable.

The trail bore the signs of the recent rain with the occasional mud puddle, and in the soft soil, lots of animal tracks.  Lots of pine cones down. In a couple spots, the trail was blocked by dead fall. Not feeling sparkly enough to work on hurdling, so I clambered over instead.

It's too early to have the wild flowers out, but the buds were building so it won't be too long.

To match up to the deer, I saw two wild turkeys, apparently not willing to associate with each other. They were about a mile apart, running solo. Wild turkeys run pretty darned fast. Didn't get pictures of them, either.

The shot I really regret missing happened pretty late in the run. I hit the long downhill stretch toward the group cabin when I surprised a small herd of elk - or we surprised each other.

They are amazing animals, so graceful and elegant. That they can move that way in forest and disappear in five seconds astounds me. I 'wasted' a couple of minutes trying to track them to get the picture, but no dice so I just finished out the last five minutes of the run.

Despite lollygagging up the hills and diverting to try to catch up to the elk, I still finished faster than last time I was up here. The picture below is from the Puffer Butte Cabin. Hard not to feel extraordinarily lucky and blessed when I get to run here.

Long Singles

Nope, not baseball. I know it started last week but I gave up on baseball a long time ago. We're talking running. First, a recap of the week.

I ran six times last week, which will probably surprise my running coach since two of the days were supposed to be cross-training days. Yesterday, I finished with an 8.3 mile run around Troy, Idaho. The route I did I call the Orchard Loop. It's one of my favorite runs, one that I did first a dozen years ago when I moved up from SoCal. The GPS called it "Hilly Medium Long." That's about right as there's not a flat stretch on the whole run. It is a remarkably pretty run, with views of Moscow Mountain, the greening wheat fields, and open road.

Back when I live in Troy, I ran a minimum of six days a week and averaged upwards of 300 miles per month. Needless to say, I went through a lot of shoes. I was also as fast as I had ever been. I only did one run a day with speed work on Tuesdays and a long run on Sunday. Most of the advice seems to suggest that once you cross the fifty mile a week barrier, you should consider switching to two-a-day runs. The thought has been that fitness is driven by the frequency of exercise bouts so a runner completing two workouts a day will develop more fitness than one doing the same mileage in a single bout.

I never switched. I hate morning runs and thought my regimen was working quite well. Now comes an article from RunnersWorld about Yuki Kawauchi, the Japanese runner who shocked the world in 2011, about his training philosophy. One run a day, one speed session, one long run, one trail run. The other three were longer runs between 70 and 100 minutes.

Sounds awfully familiar.

There are considerable advantages for the long distance runner to the single workout schedule at the physiological level. From the article, Hudson notes that studies have shown that the differences of enzymatic production from 60 to 80 minutes are enormous. The muscles and connective tissues also adapt, getting stronger to handle the increased load. On a personal note, when I was running like this, my legs and feet felt indestructible. (Question - do you consider your feet when training? Would love to hear comments.)

An important consideration is the pace of that single run. Most people are going to run them too fast, especially if they're used to doing doubles. The inclination is to run at the high end of the aerobic range, burning more glycogen than fat. The long singles are fat-burners for people looking to cover ground, a lot of it. Trying to tackle a 10-miler in the same way that you would try to handle a 10K is going to leave your fuel tank empty and increase the risk of injury. Psychologically, it can be hard to watch everyone fly past you as you grind out miles. The trick is to stay focused on what you plan to accomplish on the run.

Since I brought up fueling, if you decide that long singles are your ticket to the start line of a marathon or ultra, don't forget to refuel after every run. Your body will need it. The runs will deplete you and if you screw up the refueling it will bite you the next day.  

Hopefully I'll see you out there.

Run gently, friends.
 

Muscle: Confessions of an Unlikely Bodybuilder - Book Review

Venturing into the world of bodybuilding with Samuel Wilson Fussell takes the reader on a surreal trip filled with primal screams, shots of human growth hormone in the ass, and lumbering lifters. Muscle: Confessions of an Unlikely Bodybuilder, Fussell’s memoir, follows the progression of an erudite young man into an Arnold-wannabe.  From the nearly paralyzing fear brought on by living in the violence that was New York City in the early 1980’s to Southern California, where he competed, Fussell delves into what could be legitimately called his confused years.  As with any activity that becomes a compulsion, Fussell overreaches in search of his personal nirvana.
Fussell’s early training in literature shows through in his memoir. Rather than the heavy prose of an iron-head lifter, you get solid description and characterizations of the wacky—and sometimes wacked-out—personalities that populated the lifting and bodybuilding scene. Those that look to this as a training manual will be disappointed as it clearly was not intended to be a “how-to” manual; instead, you get a close look into the mindset of a totally dedicated group of bodybuilders. Fussell writes so seamlessly that we, the readers, get drawn into his world without hesitation, accepting a bewildering world that would have, at first glance, appeared insane.
The power of the book, apart from the skillful writing, is the blatant honesty. That honesty is the source of the humor that permeates the book, and, ultimately, the compassion that builds for the author.

Like the Wind Magazine

Like the Wind Cover, Volume 4

Several months ago, I ordered a shirt with my middle daughter's favorite Pre quote. The only one that I found that looked as though it was of decent quality shipped from the UK, so I ponied up the money via Paypal. Not long after, the shirt arrived, along with a hand-written note of thanks.

Hand-written. I was surprised and pleased. The card was crafted from one of the Like the Wind magazine covers - another surprise as I didn't realize that they were publishing a magazine, too. Junkie that I am, I ordered a slew of their back copies, which sat on my table begging me to clear time to read them.

Yesterday, my first day off in three weeks, I read Volume 3.

First, it's not a slick, glossy magazine along the lines of Running Times or Runner's World. Using sustainable materials, Like the Wind delivers a beautiful journal with original artwork and stunning photography. The pages have weight to them and each edition a sense of heft.

Where Like the Wind also diverges is that the articles inside are not written in the usual bombastic "5 Tips to Improve Your 5K" format so familiar to us. Instead, each is a thoughtful drop into the running experience, some from the perspectives of incredible runners like Jillian Kornet or Lizzy Hawker, but there are articles by more mortal types, charity runners explaining why they run in 'fancy dress' (British for costumes) or the pleasant surprise one runner encounters in a 15K she had planned as a time trial before discovering that it was an old-fashioned trail run with a couple of hundred runners and no marching bands to generate the excitement.

The range of voices are diverse, some of the articles written by professional scribes, while others rely on the emotion running, and their individual reasons for running, evoke on the page.

The magazine first published in 2014 and clearly stands as a work of devotion, not just to the running community as a whole, but to the idea that there is more to running than a PB. By approaching the sport as a way of life rather than simply a competition, they give credit to the vast majority of runners that seek a voice that talks to them.

If you would like to contribute to Like the Wind, here's the page to their information. If you want to subscribe, here that link. If you live nearby and would like to borrow a copy to read, let me know. I do want it back, however. These are keepers, to be kept on the shelf next to my favorite running books.

Surviving the Home Inspection Hit #1 last weekend

Very pleased that Surviving the Home Inspection hit #1 in it's primary Kindle category and #2 and #3 in a couple of others. Considering the print copy is not out yet (but getting close), that's an excellent start.

I always expected that this book would be one that I market differently as the target audience isn't necessarily the reader but someone with a vested interest - their agent - in educating the home seller. True to form, I'm getting a pretty goodly number of pre-orders directly for the book, in bulk, for real estate offices.

Unlike my other books, this is one that I will do an offset print run. I haven't determined the size of the run yet (or where I'm going to store that many books - negotiations with my sweetie are ongoing) but expect that it will drive the cost to about a dollar and a half per copy, delivered.

Definitely need to take a class on organizing all this and I've got an idea on who to go to.

That won't keep me at the top of the Kindle lists, but should make the book profitable in the next two months.

On to the next projects - still have two novels in the works, one short story begging to be written, and the next non-fiction to research. Plus, of course, inspect houses, attend board meetings where I get volunteered to do, yep, more writing, and get my lazy butt into shape to go mountain running this summer.

I really kind of stink at taking down-time. On the plus side, writing and running count in my book as fun and relaxing.

Are You Competitive?

Runners get asked all sorts of personal questions, starting usually with a query about basic sanity. Wait, that's not quite it . . . usually it starts with a statement, not a question.

"You're crazy!"

"Nope," I reply, "except without a run, then I'm a crazy sonofagun. If I run, all the little floaty bits inside my head settle down instead of playing bumper cars with, you know, thoughts. Makes everything better."

This elicits one of those looks, with the more easily frightened sidling back a step, just in case. You can read their thoughts in the wide eyes. He's a runner. What other crazy crap is he into?

"How far do you run?"

"Not too far, usually. Maybe 3-4 miles some days, or 15 on trails if I'm out playing."

"Oh." Always a pause. "I could never do that." That's the typical comment. They're wrong, even if they don't know it. They could do it. Human beings are capable of so many great things and running is both the best and the least of them.

The other response I get is "I only run if I'm being chased by a bear" which really isn't at all sensible since a bear can sprint in excess of 30 mph. Not even Usain Bolt can out-sprint a bear. You're better off relying on a gun. Or, in my case, a pleasant disposition, and a squadron of harried-looking guardian angels desperate to find a better gig.

"So do you do marathons?"

This is were I get in trouble.

"Some, but I actually prefer longer stuff and smaller crowds."

Longer stuff takes a second to process. To most reasonable folks, a marathon is an already unreasonable distance to run. I mean, there are reasons why wheels, and bikes, and cars were invented and it wasn't to create full employment for union workers named Bubba or Ski. (If I were a politician, I just lost the Pennsylvania and Ohio votes. Fortunately, I have higher standards for myself.)

"So, what's the farthest you've run?"

"101.43 miles in 22 and three-quarter hours." My turn to pause. "It was a track race in San Diego."

Truth. My longest run ever took me 400-plus laps around the same track and deposited me exactly where I started, with tired legs and one small blister. I didn't say I was sensible.

Now it's back to them. They still are puzzling out which made less sense, running for nearly 24 hours or doing it on a track. The skittish ones will quiet down at this point, and try to avoid eye contact. That's what they do with the buzz-cut crazy man on the corner of Thain and G streets who pummels the air with his hands as he shouts at the passing cars. The brave ones have to know.

"Why?"

"Damned if I know."

"Are you competitive?" This one gets delivered with a frank look of confusion. There's got to be a reason.

"Absolutely."

The look on their faces is pure relief and a smidge of faith in the universe is restored.

"I guess it makes sense to run if you're good at it." They don't really mean it, but it at least fits. Running isn't a practical activity, leads to sweat and getting teased by shouts of "Run, Forest, Run!"

"Oh, I pretty much stink at running."

Eyes spring wide and stare. I continue, hoping to clarify.

"I'm way too tall, way too broad for a runner. Plus, I don't breathe to well." I say all this with a rueful smile. It's all true, every word. I'm 6'3" and 180 pounds. Too big. The good runners are 5'8" and 135 and don't use an inhaler."

By now, they've resigned themselves to the idea that for the foreseeable future, be it 10 minutes or 2 hours, they're stuck with a loon. Still, there's one more stab at getting to the heart of the crazy that is me.

"So why do you do it?"

"It's fun."

Fun, in this case, might be a relative term, kind of like-and maybe related to-crazy.

Kendall Cares

Paul Farrally, general manager of Kendall Subaru, cutting the tape.

Yesterday evening, Kendall Motors held their grand opening for their newest venture in town, the Subaru dealership on Thain Road. The ribbon cutting came first, though the early crowd was already inside, snacking. They were coaxed outside for the ceremony.

Paul Farrally, who just moved to the valley in December, did the honors with the traditional over-sized scissors and a bright red ribbon while the crowd cheered and applauded. Then everyone back inside, some for more snacks, some for a beer or glass of wine. 

The Lewis-Clark Animal Shelter attended - more later - with the whole staff and several members of the board. Representing the board was the ever-personable veterinarian John Hoch of Lewiston Veterinary Clinic; the president, Lonnie Ells, taking time off from his busy accounting practice to attend; and Joyce Keefer, who seems indefatigable as she works as one of the valley's best Realtors and serves (and works) on community boards. 

Aaron Jollymore, making sure the food was just perfect.

Jollymore's, a restaurant who seems always to be assisting the Shelter, provided the catering. Aaron Jollymore, the executive chef, and I chatted about the spread, which included bite-sized steak, and a tasty spinach-sun-dried tomatoes spread was a hit with the folks that attended. Like the rube I sometimes am, I had eaten the spinach spread as a standalone dish. The second time through the line (as always, Jollymore's had more than enough food for everyone,) I tried it as intended. Delicious both ways and hats off to Aaron, a wonderful chef.

The main presentation came at 5:45, when Paul Farrally presented a pair of checks to the Lewis-Clark Animal Shelter as part of the Kendall Cares and Subaru Share the Love programs for supporting worthy causes in the community. Lonnie Ells and John Hoch accepted the checks on behalf of the Shelter. The total contribution was a staggering $11,300 - much more than the Animal Shelter expected and thoroughly welcome.

I had a chance to chat afterward with both Paul Farrally and Megan Dooley, the community relations specialist who traveled up from Boise for the event. Very open and hospitable individuals, both, and a pleasure to talk to. It seemed a trend with the Kendall staff. 

John Hoch, Lonnie Ells, and Paul Farrally