A bad night

I ran and walked 4 1/2 miles with the Hash today. My left heel hurts.

I woke up at about 4:45 a.m., seated upright in jeans and a sweater, with my lap soaked in Fresca. Among the universal components of hypoglycemia is an impairment of cognitive skills, so I did not at first recognize my trouble. Instinct takes command and usually compels me to walk or crawl to my refrigerator, but not this time. I knew I had to urinate, and as I sat on the commode, decided to eat Girl Scout cookies from a box in my back bedroom. I fell at least once getting to the cookies, ate four, and climbed into bed. I was very cold, shivering, but my bedding failed to warm me. I headed for a hot tub of water, fell a time or two more, knelt beside the bathtub and tried to put the stopper over the drain. Reason trickled through me with the cookies, and I thought, "Okay, be careful. You could kill yourself trying to take this fucking bath." Comfort returned as I lay in the warmth. I drained the water, used a towel to dry as I sat, and with one hand on the wall, used the other to wrap the towel around me. I couldn't tie it, instead held it as I walked against the walls and doors and bookcases to a bottle of milk. I slept until 9:30, when I gauged the damage. I have slight abrasions on my left shoulder, a bruise and abrasion on my right forearm, and my left heel and elbow are bruised.

Good things are that my house was undamaged, and I did not lose my glasses.

I let the cats out. I washed a load of clothes, and went to Fort Roots to hit a bucket of golf balls. Then I watched some football, showered, and drove to Hash. I felt fine running, except for my heel. But I'm sure the bruise is not deep, and think it will be fine in a few days.

Tomorrow

Okay, fuck, I will start a streak tomorrow.

All I did today was walk 18 holes at First Tee, which does not apply to "doing something," drive to Pine Bluff for a basketball game, and listen to Tom Brady and the Patriots beat the New York Giants as I drove home.

Again, for the fourth consecutive year, I have not trained well in December. The difference is, I have run at least a bit, and played a lot of golf. I think I will soon be fit. I feel good. I weigh 162. We'll see.

Today I scored 91, with nines of 48 and 43, and did not lose a ball. Someone mowed the rough at First Tee.

New run

I will count the days at some point, of course. To maintain whatever my new run of consecutive days of doing something (something defined as at least walking 2 miles), I walked for 30 minutes tonight after I sent a story about Helena-West Helena's overtime victory over McGehee in the Zebra Classic.

The game was played at Pine Bluff High's McFadden Gymnasium. I sent the story on the wireless provided by the hotel at the Pine Bluff Convention Center, 10 blocks from Pine Bluff High.

I wrote most of the story at the game, but finished it in the hotel lobby, as I heard music from a nightclub at the other end of the hotel, and sat on a soft couch in dim light in otherwise perfect comfort. Afterward, I locked my laptop in my car, and walked for 30 minutes around downtown Pine Bluff.

The weather was perfect for a walk. I was tickled to take it.

A cold walk

It remains cold here.

It was 37, only 15 degrees warmer than in Anchorage, an hour ago when I walked the Levy Loop in 29:12.

Jo, Pam, Sam, and I are glad my heater works. I'm glad I made a pot of chicken soup. It is the first pot I have ever cooked for myself, so I left in the water chestnuts.

Burrrrrr

I know my subscribers in Alaska will not sympathize, but it's miserable in North Little Rock, dark and 40 degrees and raining.

I ran, walked, and swam the Levy Loop in 21:32.

The weather is, however, beautiful to watch through my living room windows, as I sit on my couch with Jo and write.

Christmas

All I did Sunday was drive a 5K course and pour Kroger-brand flour on the streets of Levy and Park Hill, then host 30 Little Rock Hashers to a party of presents, hot dogs, and several gallons of beer at my house on Orange Street.

Yesterday I walked nine holes at Fort Roots and teamed with John Kelley to win the Levy Christmas Classic.

Today, after driving from Nashville and watching three cats sprint from my house, I hit a dozen golf balls at the Fort Roots driving range, then ran and walked 6 miles on the River Trail in 59:40, with mile splits of 10:48, 10:30, 10:12, 9:48, 9:18, and 9:04. I walked a little less each mile, until the last 2 when I ran non-stop. Those miles delighted me. I felt light and fast.

Now I feel old to think I let 2 miles run in 18:22 make me feel light and fast.

My house smells like a spoiled hot dog and beer. Sam is in my lap, and says she doesn't care about the odor.

Ridge Road

It's muggy, 59, overcast, with a hard wind blowing from the southeast, kind of weird three days before Christmas.

I ran and walked the Ridge Road Loop in reverse, with the 47th Street hill in the first mile instead of the fourth. Consequently, I covered the first in 11:41, followed by miles of 10:38, 10:56, and 10:32, to finish in 43:47. It was a relaxed effort, but an effort nonetheless, particularly the last 500 meters from the intersection of Maple and 47th to my driveway. I decided I wanted to break 44 minutes.

Forty-three, forty-seven for 4 miles is a 4:46:59 marathon pace, so I guess this would qualify as a tempo run for the skinny geeks at Runner's World.

Okay, now I have to clean my house so Little Rock Hashers can fuck it up from scratch tomorrow evening.

Confidence booster

It's odd to me how easily I am encouraged.

Take my run/walk of the Levy Loop, just completed. It seemed like I walked quite a bit, and jogged very slowly, but I finished in 21:24, or a 10:42-mile pace. Tack on 24.21875 more miles at that pace, and it would add to a 4:40:32 marathon.

My goal is to finish the Little Rock Marathon under five hours. Somehow I have let a 2-mile run suggest I can.

Discouragement comes with the same sort of ease, so all I need is a bad day on my temperamental legs to tell me my goal is ludicrous, and to say I am an idiot to let a 2-mile run/walk of the Levy Loop represent anything more than a couple of hundred calories burned.

Samantha made it home from the thunderstorm two nights ago, and is currently sleeping on boxes piled near my water heater.

Walking in Levy

Today I walked the 47th Street Loop in 44:58.

It was an easy walk. Later I played nine holes at Burns Park.

Late

I ran after midnight tonight, for the first time, I think, since Erin Vratil and I ran 10 miles in early December, 2005, after watching Mitch Mustain and Springdale beat West Memphis in a state-championship game at War Memorial Stadium.

Tonight I ran the 4-mile Ridge Road Loop, a hilly motherfucker from Levy through Park Hill and back, in 39:23, with splits of 9:50, 10:10, 10:14, and 9:09. Each step was taken through 50 degrees and soft rain, with light flashing and thunder mumbling way off, and I was delighted by their ease.

I won't sleep until very late, but will buzz here with Jo and Pam taking turns in my lap as I read shorts stories written by Peter Taylor, daydream of a soggy round of perfect golf, and wonder about Sam. She is out there somewhere in what has become a regular thunderstorm.

A record?

I have run and walked the Levy Loop since 1996, and don't know if I had broken 27 minutes for a walk before today.

This afternoon under a gray sky, wearing blue jeans and a hooded sweatshirt against a stiff wind and 52 degrees, I walked it in 26:33. I wanted to run, but resisted. Maybe tomorrow.

My vacation is over. I feel good, fresh and ready for one last long push to the Little Rock Marathon.

Letting go

It's a good thing for my marathon training that my vacation has ended.

I overslept Friday and did not have time to run or walk before driving to St. Louis, and was out until nearly midnight judging the Miss Blackthorn Bar Pageant with my brother and sister-inlaw, John and Lindsey.

Eight inches of snow fell late Friday night and Saturday. That, plus Christmas shopping and massive eating with brother Jim and sister-inlaw Karen kept me from running Saturday. Sunday I watched the Packers pound the Rams, then drove home, and consequently missed another day of running.

Today I walked the Levy Loop in 30 minutes, and then Hindman Park Golf Course, where I shot 87. I had 1 birdie, 1 par, 16 bogies, and used 31 putts.

Two servings

I ran the Levy Loop twice this morning in 35:54, with splits of 9:12, 9:04, 9:10, and 8:28. It hurt, particularly the last half mile. I knew I would have to push it to break 36, did, and suffered.

But not so much that I couldn't walk 18 holes and shoot a 92 at Hindman Park.

This was a good day. I feel great, eager for a trip to St. Louis in the morning to see my brothers, John and Jim, and, on Sunday, the Green Bay Packers beat the holy living brains out of the St. Louis Rams.

A run before golf

This morning was ideal for a fast run: quiet, dark gray, and cold.

I ran the Levy Loop in 17:14, with splits of 8:54 and 8:20, and it did not exhaust me.

It was too cold for golf, but I walked nine holes at Fort Roots and scored a 40. I birdied No. 9 (with a driver, 3-wood, 60-degree Cleveland wedge, and an 8-foot putt), and also had two pars and six bogies. It took me one hour, 18 minutes, and began to rain as I sat in my car and filled out my scorecard.

A walk before golf

This morning I walked and ran the 47th Street Loop in 33:46, with mile splits of 11:23, 11:16, and 11:07. It felt easy.

I played Hindman Park in 90 this afternoon, with nines of 46 and 44. It was my first time under 100 at Hindman.

Streak stopper

My streak of consecutive days covering at least 2 miles ended today at 78.

I walked 18 holes at the original Burns Park course, shot a 94 through cold, intermittent mist, got home, sat for 30 minutes, stood to change my wet shoes and socks, and decided I had done enough. My feet hurt. My back was tired. I remain sleepy, and hungry, so fuck it.

There is a 10-ounce ribeye sitting next to a fat potato in my kitchen, ready to sizzle on cast iron. I smell butter cooking.

Another week

SAN ANTONIO —I walked dogs named Soccoro and Scout through Erin Vratil's neighborhood on a route I will declare 2 miles long.

Later I won $76 on two thoroughbred races at Retama Park, then flew home. Rain is pouring here in North Little Rock, Jo, Pam, and Sam are fighting for their turn to dance on me, so I will not run.

Today's dog walk gave me 20 miles for the week. I'm healthy and happy, well fed, and ready for some productive runs.

Lost, sort of

SAN ANTONIO — Packed full of Mexican food, and delighted by a round of 95 at La Loma (the site of the PGA Tour's Texas Open in 1950-51, 1956, and 1960*), I ran and walked about 2.5 miles tonight. It took 32 minutes.

I missed a turn late, and went five minutes more than planned, but felt fine, dressed in the plaid shorts and Polo shirt I wore for golf.

*Arnold Palmer won the 1960 Texas Open with a four-round total of 276, or, on average, 26 strokes better than I shot today. Fuck Palmer. I'd like to see him play La Loma with my swing.

Buttermilk

SAN ANTONIO — My health has returned intact, and I felt fine running a 2-mile loop with Erin tonight. We ran it in 19:40, then made buttermilk fried chicken.

San Antone

SAN ANTONIO — My throat remains sore, but my fever has subsided, I think. I felt good enough to run and walk 4.5 miles in 57 minutes with my host, Erin Vratil, tonight. Erin was kind to run effortlessly and let me dictate the pace.

The temperature was 65, and light breeze blew as we ran late in the evening. It was joy for me, truly.

We walked about 2 miles this afternoon, investigating a golf course we might play tomorrow.

Slow walk

SAN ANTONIO — I have a sore throat, and maybe a fever. Somehow I struggled through a round of golf, a pleasant dinner, and a 2-mile dog walk.

Raw speed

It was perfect weather for running this morning, on a day that should turn perfect for golf.

I ran the 47th Street Loop through 40 degrees and abundant sunshine and no wind in 27:20, with mile splits of 9:31, 9:14, and 8:55. I wanted to run each mile faster, but the first closer to 10 minutes. The 9:31 meant work, which I hoped to avoid. Discomfort while running no longer fits me.

Working vacation

I rested yesterday and today, because of all the work I will have to do in San Antonio from Wednesday-Sunday.

I'm sure my hosts will make me run, golf, walk their dogs, and eat far too much.

Yesterday I ran about 1 mile with the Hash. It was nearly 70 when we started, but rain began to pour five minutes later, and the temperature plummetted. So I turned back, dripping wet and freezing in a T-shirt and short pants.

I walked the Levy Loop in the evening in 30:57, which gave me 32 miles for the week.

I walked it again this morning in 28:30, and then 18 holes at Burns Park (where I scored 94).

Hunger

There is no comfort in a 10-mile run, not for me.

My legs were lifeless from the start this morning, so I walked and ran and stretched hamstrings along the River Trail for 2:07:51. I might have felt better if the waitress at the Mount Ida Cafe had not told me they were out of fried chicken last night.

I'm very hungry.

Orange Street

It was gray and just cold enough this morning to sting my hands. I ran and walked the Oranage Street Loop in 33:48, with mile splits of 11:18, 11:20, and 11:10. It required more effort than similar runs last Friday and Saturday, so did not encourage me.

Tomorow morning I will cover 10 miles. My current thought doesn't care how fast I go, so long as comfort prevails.

My neck feels fine, almost like a middle-aged man's should.

I will leave in half an hour to drive to Mount Ida for its semifinal playoff game with Carlisle. Treats will include my first view of Mount Ida's football stadium, a stop by Oaklawn Park for an hour of money-squandering, and my first meal at the Mount Ida Cafe since the spring of 1977. Tim Cooper ate there last Friday and said it was "great." I hope the fried chicken tastes as good as it did 30 years ago.

Also, the hour drive from Hot Springs to Mount Ida (past Camp Clearfork) is beautiful, particularly now.

Interval attempt

My legs felt spiritless as I jogged through a 10:39, warmup mile. I began to believe this would not be a good afternoon for intervals after a 53.1-second 200 demanded heavy breathing. I ran two more, in 54.3, and 53.0, was convinced and quit. I walked another mile with a man who said he played football for North Little Rock Ole Main in the mid-70s, then drove home.

I was disappointed.

Solo, sentimental Hash

I ran the Hash run tonight, but not with the Hash.

Work delayed me. I started late, found marks, followed them for 40 minutes, but never saw a Little Rock Hasher. I saw one of their cars in the Damn Good Pies parkling lot, where afterward I sat for 25 minutes listening to the Razorbacks play basketball with Missouri, but no Hashers.

Oh well.

I ran slowly, three times for 11 minutes, with one-minute walks between runs. That's my tentative plan for a 10-mile run Saturday. I felt fine, much better than this morning.

While running on Kavanaugh, through the Heights' shopping district, it occured I hadn't run that stretch at night since the summer of 1981 (I since have run it a couple of times on Sunday afternoons with the Hash). It was near the halfway point of a 10-mile loop I often ran with my roommate, John Gaston, from our apartment across the street from UALR. We once completed it in 58 minutes. That was a lot of beer and fried chicken ago. The same, hilly loop would now take me two hours.

Ice

My neck feels better. Today I ran and walked the Levy Loop, in 23:48, without pain — only a bit of stiffness. Otherwise, I felt weak, perhaps because I haven't slept well in several nights. I planned to run the Orange Stree Loop, but stopped in the face of a brisk south wind after four or five minutes, and walked a good deal.

I iced my neck four times for 10 minutes yesterday, and once this morning. The inflammation has decreased. I am no longer miserable.

Now it is time for me to start training. I haven't run hard since last Wednesday, a week ago. Maybe I will give it a go with the Hash tonight.

Ouch 2

Philip Roth wrote in his first novel, Letting Go: "The body has no loyalty — bank it with pleasure and draw out disease."

I can go Roth one better: "...bank it with daily excercise, lots of fiber and salads and omega 3 fatty acids, and withdraw a pain in the neck."

I'm not sure if my neck feels better today, or if I'm getting used to walking around looking like I'm wearing an invisible halo brace.

Oh well. Maybe this will inspire me to bcome a race walker. Today I walked the 3-mile Orange Street Loop in 40:34. No kidding. I kept splits: 13:43, 13:23, and 13:29.

Pardon me while I pull an ice pack out of the freezer.

Ouch

My neck hurts. It hurt a little when I got out of bed Saturday morning. It's made it hard to sleep the last two nights. Today it hurts to eat, to drive, to fold clothes, and to pick up Jo, Pam, and Sam.

This is what I get for being 48 years old, and not having someone to make me go to the doctor.

I didn't run, instead walked the 4-mile Ridge Road Loop in 56:37. I'm in one piece, and confident I will soon feel fine.

Rainy Sunday

It poured. The wind blew hard from the north. I ran 3 miles and said, "Fuck it." My legs were a little dead. A 13-mile run would've been hard work, and I thought a cup full of coffee, a lap full of cats, and a football game on TV sounded better.

Later I ran 2 miles with the Hash House Harriers, while it poured some more.

Today's miles gave me 33 for the week.

47th Street II

It would be hard, I think, for me to go 13 miles at an 11:10 pace tomorrow.

It was an easy pace on the 47th Street Loop this morning. Still, I wanted an 11:26 first mile, but covered it in 11:09, followed by miles of 11:05, and 11:15, for a finish in 33:29 — a comfortable effort today. I don't think I would have been comfortable 10 miles later.

Deana Drossin-Kastor said before the 2004 Olympic Marathon that she used the first mile as a warmup, so tried to run it slower than her overall pace. That's a good idea, I believe. Provided it doesn't rain, I will start 13 miles tomorrow slower than today. An 11:30 start, even 12 minutes, will be fine.

This was my first run run with the temperature under 40 since February. Weather.com said it was 38. The sky was gray and white, with no wind, perfect for football or golf, and running with gloves and a knit hat.

Oh. If it rains, and it's this cold, forget it. I will sit here and drink coffee.

47th Street

Maybe I should start eating entire apple pies more often.

My plan this morning was to run/walk the 47th St. Loop at whatever pace felt easy, hoping it would be near 11:26-a-mile (a 4:59:46 marathon pace). The first mile seemed easy, so I was surprised to see I covered it in 10:26. I walked a little more the second mile, but only slowed to 10:46. The third mile took a little more effort, but that's all, a little. I got it in 10:50, so the loop in 32:02.

My hope was to average 11:26 a mile and finish feeling confident I could run 13 miles at the same pace Sunday morning.

I failed to meet the first goal, but met the second, and am now rethinking the wisdom of eating so little. My temperamental legs felt great. Sure, they might like to lug less than 164 pounds, but I think they appreciated the extra fuel I fed them yesterday, minus the four fried pork chops.

Of course, it might've helped that my Thanksgiving training was limited to walks of nine holes and 2 miles.

Thanksgiving

Today I ate a Mrs. Smith's apple pie, a quart of vanilla ice cream, seven slices of American cheese, two fried pork chops, and a banana, watched the Green Bay Packers beat the cow shit out of the Detroit Lions, played nine holes of golf (in 50 strokes at Fort Roots), and walked 2 miles in 35 minutes.

I might fry another pork chop before I go to bed.

Intervals

This proves I'm slow: This evening at the North Little Rock High track, I ran 2X4X200 meters, with a 60 second break between 200s, and a four-minute break between sets, in 60.3 (seconds), 57.2, 55.9, and 49.7, and 56.9, 57.6, 53.5, and 49.2.

Never mind that I ran hard this morning, ran 10 miles two nights ago, the temperature dropped from 70 this morning to 52 at 6 p.m., it was raining, or that the wind blew due east down the backstretch at 30 miles a fucking hour, I'm slow. And maybe insane for the moment.

Good God Almighty, I hope these help put a little zip in my legs, drugged by nearly two hours of 11-minute miles Monday.

Now I'm doing two-a-days for Pete's sake. Jiminy Cricket.

An effort

This was work.

Running the Levy Loop in 18:55 was hard. I ran splits of 9:50 and 9:05, pushing on Maple Street a half mile from the finish because I was afraid I wouldn't break 20 minutes, and then on Orange because I realized I could break 19 as I ran past a fire truck and an ambulance (when did fire trucks begin to accompany ambulances, and why? Do they fear the sick or dying person might catch fire, or set one as a last act?).

My legs remain dead enough from Monday's run to have made no step easy this morning, And it didn't help that it was almost balmy out, 70 degrees and heavy with a brisk wind blowing from the south.

I planned to run intervals tonight, but I don't know.

Good morning

Nothing was sore this morning, but everything was tired.

I walked the 3-mile Orange St. Loop in 43:14, with three, one-minute jogs, and felt better as I went. That's all I will do today, except eat.

Fried chicken

Well, okay. Yeah. Sure, I ran 10 miles non-stop, but goddamn. In 1:51:55, or at an average pace of 11:11.5 a mile. I didn't know I could run that slowly. Somewhere around 2.5 miles I became somewhat confident I would make it. At 3 miles I still felt good enough to appreciate the River Trail. It's as pretty as a good girlfriend, I believe. At 7 miles I started thinking about bacon, eggs, hash browns, and pancakes, and then fried chicken. By the last mile, I thought it was kind of funny that I couldn't feel my toes.

My blood glucose was at 110 when I left my house, 20 minutes before I started from the I-30 Arkasas River Bridge. I ate eight SweeTarts — two after 4 miles, and one after each subsequent mile. It was at 55, twenty minutes after I stopped. Next time I will eat one after each mile.

My splits were 10:21, 10:46, 10:53, 11:14, 11:29 (54:44). 11:40, 11:25, 11:16, 11:25, 11:25 (57:11).

It was slow, but I'm pleased and hungry.

Warm up

I walked the 2-mile Levy Loop in 29:13, with two, 1-minute jogs, as a barometer for my 10-mile effort this evening. My legs were a little off. I want to run 10 miles nonstop, with a goal date set two months ago of two weeks from today. Maybe tonight. I'm not confident, but maybe the pancakes I ate five minutes ago will kick in.

Hash Fest 2

I haven't run well on consecutive days since 1981, a streak maintained with the Hash House Harriers in Hot Springs this morning.

We went about 3 miles in 40 minutes. My legs were dead.

The people were nice, and the sky was dark gray with mist floating about, draped over the smell of breakfast, perfect on the trails and their fall colors shining around the Arlington Hotel. My concern for lifeless legs was limited.

This run gave me 30 miles for the week, and was my last before I run 10 miles tomorrow evening.

Hash Fest

I ran and walked about 3 miles with a group of Hash House Harriers in Hot Springs. When I ran, I ran fast and felt very good. We ran on beautiful, soft trails, littered with leaves. My legs felt lively, a feeling I hope endures through Monday evening, when I plan to run 10 miles.

Afterward, at a heated swimming pool near the Arlington Hotel, I became exhausted judging the Miss Hash Fest Pageant. The winner was Dangle, from Oklahoma City, absolutely beautiful in a Pete-pretty way. Because of her performance in the sports-bra, spandex-panty-looking-pants competition, Just Hannah was the runner-up.

The day's higlight was a vanilla ice-cream cone purchased at Kastle Kreme en route to Levy.

Slower

Last night I felt like I had wings on my shoes. Today I didn't. Maybe that's what I get for rating so highly my breaking the 37-minute barrier for 4 miles.

I ran and walked the 3-mile 47th St. Loop in 35:06. The weather was nice; sunny, dry, and cool, and I had a brief conversation with a mentally-challenged woman. She wore a purple sweat suit, and warned that I better watch the garbage truck: "It'll run right over you."

Breakthrough

It was borderline cold out. My hands stung a bit at first. Someone on my 4-mile course told me it was too cold for short pants, but the temperature was perfect for running in them. I suspected I would run well. Thirty minutes earlier, I ran from the lobby of the Country Club of Little Rock — where I had interviewed Arkansas Athletic Director Frank Broyles — to my car and felt great. I thought, "You will have to resist running too fast when you start tonight." I did. My mile splits were 9:11, 9:05, 9:31, and 9:06, and added to a finish in 36:53, remarkably fast by my recent standard.

Later, after I recorded the performance in my spiral-notebook diary, it occured that my average mile was only 11 seconds faster than this little midget friend of mine ran for a fucking half-marathon last Sunday. It made me jealous, and prouder of her, and more eager to improve to the point she cannot possibly assist my pacing in a marathon I plan to run in March.

I felt great tonight, light and fast, a nice way to feel being heavy and slow.