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The other night I did something that I had not done in more than 25 years, I went cross country skiing. The weather was perfect to enjoy being outside and as soon as the skis were under my feet it all came back to me. The trails across the open white fields were straight and smooth. The back kicks were high and the strides smooth and long. The climb up the hills seemed effortless and the return glide down the other side was fast and refreshing with the wind briskly brushing my face. I commented to myself that the speed felt just a bit slow, but brushed it off as my waxing of the skis is a skill that I never seemed to master. I was enjoying the outing with a few of my buddies and as it is when guys get together, it turned into a competition. Do not think anyone really won or got the best of anyone, just a fun time out. Back at the lodge while getting out of the wet boots and socks I noticed something when tossing my wet gloves on the floor near the fire to dry, the top of my right foot was in great pain. The pain is what I think caused me to awaken suddenly at 2:00 AM and realize that my winter outing was just a dream. I am not too sure why I went skiing in my dreams, but I am happy that Mr. RA let me finish the wonderful time I had out with my friends. I remained awake for the rest of the day and thought about my adventure many times setting around at the office. It still brings a little smile to my face thinking about it now. Just because I have slowed down a lot lately it doesn’t mean that I have given up yet, I still fight on. And who knows, one day I just may strap on some skis and make an afternoon of it.

Remember when I used to write every day? Seems crazy now. Maybe it was crazy back then, too, at least to everyone else. Still not running. However, there's progress at last. Today is the third day in a row where there's been little or no pain at the MCL site. Not going to run until at least Saturday, and that will only be something really short, testing things out. This morning I sort of felt something on my way down the stairs, letting me know that this isn't over just yet. Speaking of Saturday, this weekend is the 2018 Snowbuster Festival of Virtual Races. Hope everyone who isn't hurt is planning their runs. Send me a note with your results by next Wednesday (that's a sort of soft deadline, of course). The drain repair went well on Saturday. I made only one trip to the Home Depot - no mean feat in itself. I'd already cut out the side wall of the cabinet to investigate and saw what I was going to need. Coupler/Adapter, length of PVC, elbow, adapter to connect to the drain. Figured to re-use the old j-pipe and I've had primer and cement in the basement, left over from previous plumbing work. Sometimes it pays not to throw out leftovers. Getting much leverage with a saw was a challenge, so I used my Dremel to cut the old copper pipe most of the way through, as far as I could reach. There wasn't much clearance behind it to the wall, so when I got to a certain point, there was no angle that worked. Hacksaw for the last inch. My elbow had a slightly different angle than the old one, but it was close enough with some adjustment of the trap from the sink. I'd say the only nasty part of this was cleaning out the old one, with had a 1/8" of sludge in it. Anything to avoid an extra trip to HD, amiright? Things went together easily after that. Screwed on the coupler, cut and glued the elbow and adapter (after checking the measurements 3-5 times), tightened all the other connections and ran the water. No leaks! One of the first things I noticed when I opened the side of the cabinet was a pair of small rubber balls on the floor. If you can picture with me these custom cabinets, you can imagine my surprise at finding anything inside this absolutely (apparently) closed off section in the corner of the kitchen. A mystery for another day, I thought, putting them on the counter. About an hour later, T-Rex came downstairs. I've been up, eaten breakfast, fixed the drain, and cleaned everything up by then, because college student. Suddenly, she squealed, "My bouncy balls! Where did you find my bouncy balls? I lost these when I was five!" WTH? My daughter is on drugs. One of her games back in the day was taking her handful of little rubber balls, tossing them across the floor and chasing them down. Like playing fetch with your dog. Unnoticed by me all this time is a gap underneath the cabinet where it hangs over the floor. A gap just large enough for a tiny little bouncy ball with the right amount of speed at the proper angle to pop through and behind the wall. Suddenly, all my daughter's emotional issues have been explained. Trauma from the lost bouncy ball. Me, I'm just working through the trauma of an old runners' injury, wondering if this is the final nail in the coffin. Do I need to keep placeholders in my display for future marathons or am I done? Will there be another Boston, or was 2016 my one moment of glory? Was my last marathon ever that hamstring plagued party in Rehoboth? Brooding. Moody. That's how I roll.

Here in the corrupt state of New York many schools continue to observe a week long Winter break. During the "energy crisis" which was a lifetime ago (or at least several decades ago) it was decided that the schools should close for a week in order to save energy. A lifetime ago the Winter break week was often the coldest week of Winter. The energy crisis ended decades ago, but corruption, tradition, or both, has allowed the traditional Winter break week to remain in place even though global warming has turned that same week into something closer to the start of Spring. My sons were off for Winter break last week, even though daytime high temps ranged in the 40s-50s and even up to 70 degrees one day. Trust me, 70 degrees is not normal here during February, but this has occurred more than once recently thanks to global warming. In any event, the kids have the break and I hate Winter, so we booked flights to Key West for the week. This was our first trip to Key West and it was nice to be back to running in shorts and a T-shirt. Key West is an island at the end of the chain of Keys, about 90 miles out off the southern tip of Florida. Strava shows it like this: The first couple of runs were easy/short while I adjusted to the heat. Sometimes the scenery was beautiful: Sometimes the scenery was... different: There are a lot of chickens in Key West. Apparently they were brought to Key West 100 years ago when cock fighting was legal. Some escaped or were released and began to multiply. The island is now a bird sanctuary so the chickens continue to multiply. The chickens are everywhere and the roosters will wake you up in the AM or simply scare the crap out of you when they crow as you innocently run past. There are also plenty of coconuts. Looks like several landed on the hood of this car before being loaded onto the roof. Coconuts are popular for this: That's DS #2 enjoying coconut water. I don't know who the wacky people behind him are, but it appears that the guy really wants a coconut. Typically we woke up to 75 degrees. I would try to get a run in early before temps reached 80. After a few short/easy runs I ventured out for an 8 mile run. After running on White Street Pier I headed out Atlantic Avenue hoping the ocean breeze would keep me cool. It did not keep me cool and there was no shade or relief from the sun as the temp quickly climbed to 80. If you know me, you know that I love heat and have no problem running at 80 degrees. In fact, I prefer hot runs over cold runs. The heat wasn't the issue that day. The wind/current had washed piles of seaweed onto the beach along Atlantic Avenue and the piles of seaweed were rotting. The stench of rotting seaweed was overwhelming and after a couple miles there I was forced to turn back and head into town instead. As I ran into "Old Town" I passed Dave's doppleganger. I stopped, thinking I should get a picture, but decided against it. I couldn't imagine how I could credibly explain to this stranger why I wanted to take his picture. He already looked disturbed when I slammed on the brakes and did a double take to make sure it wasn't the "real" Dave. If it was you Dave, I hope you had a great vacation, but you need to explain why you didn't stop to say hello or run with me. After passing "Dave" I ran to the Harbor Walk. Great views there like this: Even the butterflies at Key West are interested in splits: Stress free running is always the best part of vacation. After getting in an AM run DW and I would usually relax at the pool with DS #1 and #2. Sometimes we would walk to Mallory Square to watch the sunset: It looked like this every night. If I ever win the lottery....

We’ve been to Key West the last two years and your right about that smell along that beach. Nice place to spend a week though.

“Today’s the day,” he says. “The four minute mile.” Roger just died, so he’s hanging out with me. He’s tired of heaven (gold roads and no cinder) and wants to be back on the track. I guess mine’s as good as any. It’s a cool day, slight breeze, feels fast. He says I should do it. I MUST do it. Four-minute mile. He can live it again one more time, vicariously through me. I am skeptical. A four-minute mile seems a bit ambitious. I have no spikes. My track is metric. And I’m lazy and slow. Roger is undeterred. “Four minutes,” he insists. “Unlikely,” I reply. “You can do it,” he tells me. “Did you know more people have climbed Mt. Everest than have run four minutes?” I’m not sure if he’s thought this line of reasoning as an incentive through entirely. But it was maybe the greatest run of all time, and he’s never asked anything of me before. It’s worth a try. We line up at the SCC track. There are only a few people here to witness the event. Three football players are running drills on the grass we’re not allowed to go on. A fast guy is running 400s in lane 1. I have chosen lane 9 for my feat. Or my feet. Since four laps in lane 1 isn’t a mile anyhow, I figure 9 is as good a place as any. We count down, the imaginary gun sounds, and we’re off. There are no spectators, but Roger says it doesn’t matter. “The spectators fail to understand — and how can they know — the mental agony through which an athlete must pass before he can give his maximum effort,” he tells me. I try to remember this as I come through the first lap. I’m in trouble. I’m already breathing too hard. My lungs are burning, my head is screaming what the hell. We head into the second lap. I mention that I’m only a quarter of the way in and death is already imminent. “The man who can drive himself further once the effort gets painful is the man who will win,” he replies. I had no idea driving was allowed in the mile. This explains how he was able to do it so quickly. I finish the second lap with my lungs on fire. Note to self: Avoid the jalapeño GU before extreme exertion. The third lap looms. I desperately want to quit. “It is the brain, not the heart or lungs, that is the critical organ,” he says. I’m thinking it’s way easier for him, given that he’s dead now and appears to be trying to take me with him. But I look for the next gear. Lap three lasts an eternity. The world is a blur. I’m no longer able to think rationally. I’ve never hurt this intensely. My mind flashes to Cassidy in “Once A Runner,” but all I come up with is David singing “I Think I Love You.” 400 to go. Roger says I can do it. “However ordinary each of us may seem, we are all in some way special, and can do things that are extraordinary, perhaps until then…even thought impossible,” he assures me. I grit my teeth and push for the last turn. Onward to the impossible. Between gasps, I ask him what the finish was like for that first sub-4. “Those last few seconds seemed never-ending,” he says. “The faint line of the finishing tape stood ahead as a haven of peace, after the struggle. The arms of the world were waiting to receive me if only I reached the tape without slackening my speed. If I faltered, there would be no arms to hold me and the world would be a cold, forbidding place, because I had been so close. I leapt at the tape like a man taking his last spring to save himself from the chasm that threatens to engulf him.” If I wanted a cold, forbidding place, I’d live in Michigan. I kick it up a gear, one last battle against the pain. After forever, the blessed finish line approaches. The chasm engulfs me. I hit the stop button as I throw myself across the line, gasping for the oxygen that has suddenly been drained from the track. I look down at my watch. I haven’t dared peek at it till now, not wanting to know my splits. All or nothing, I figure. Did we do it? Did I finally shatter the four-minute barrier? Almost. 12:48.7. Sooooo close. I trot around the track, cooling down, trying to process. So painful to push that hard and then fall short by only eight minutes and 50 seconds. But Roger seems OK with it. “Failure is as exciting to watch as success, provided the effort is absolutely genuine and complete,” he says. And that makes it all worthwhile. My effort was absolutely genuine and complete. You line up, you give it your best, you go get a Frosty afterward. That’s all you can do. We all have our four minute mile. Or maybe our Everest. Maybe the numbers aren’t that important. You just gotta keep climbing. RIP, Sir Roger. You’ll always be my favorite James Bond …

February 2018 Sometimes you have to take a step backwards to appreciate how far you've come. Total mileage for the month: 254.7 (in comparison: January - 207). Jan. 29-Feb. 4: 57 Feb. 5-11: 61.1 Feb. 12-18: 66.2 Feb. 19-25: 62.2 Feb. 26-March 4: projected at 62 A trip to Bass Pro isn't noteworthy when you live in a suburb of Springfield, but we didn't do very much this month! Races: None this month. I was going to run a half for fun in lieu of my long run on February 24, but I just didn't have it in me to go to a race that week. Workouts: Feb. 9: 4 mile tempo in 24:02 via 6:03, 6:06, 5:58, 5:54 (6:00 average), with 3.1 warm-up and 2 cool-down. Tempo Friday is never a thing on my training schedule, but Tempo Tuesday did not work out, and because of that I was extremely thankful to hit this one. I didn't even have my usual "I should have run 3 seconds faster to average 5:59" thoughts! I was happy with this for my first real workout since Houston, and although I ran a faster 4 mile tempo over the summer, I was not in my present state of post-marathon de-training for that one. My goal pace range was 5:57-6:07, and all considering I would have been happy enough even if I'd run all 4 miles at 6:07. Feb. 13: 4 x 1 mile at tempo in 6:04, 6:07, 6:08, 6:10 (6:07 average) with 0.5 recoveries, 2.2 warm-up, and 2 cool-down (goal pace of 5:57-6:07). This was much harder than it should have been considering I ran 4 miles straight at tempo faster than this the previous week, but often the split tempos are harder for me with the stopping and re-starting (plus I am just running kind of hot and cold right now), plus it was windy. I fell hard on a patch of black ice during my Feb. 12 run (detailed below in the highlights/thoughts/randomness section), so I was sore from that, which probably didn't help. Meh. Feb. 18: Progressive fast finish long run (11 base, then dropping 10-15 seconds/mile for the final 3 miles). My average for the whole run was 7:11, with the final 3 miles in 6:54, 6:46, 6:33. Although I ran the workout as written and before I started picking it up I wasn't even sure I'd be able to drop under 7:00, I also kept thinking about how I used to fast finish these at 6:00 pace, which was disheartening. Feb. 20: Fartlek of 3 x 3'2'1' pushes with recovery equal to the next push (2.2 warm-up, cool-down to 8.3 miles total). I ran this during a storm (the entire week of Feb. 19-25 was a storm), and I didn't even look at my push paces until a few days later, because I was already feeling discouraged about my training and knew that due to running in insane wind and rain, these would not be good (they were 5:58-6:58, with the 6:58 being a 1:00 all uphill into the 30+ mph wind). I put in a hard effort and tried to be okay with that. Feb. 26: 5 mile tempo in 30:00 via 6:05, 6:04, 5:58, 6:01, 5:51 (6:00 average), with 2.1 warm-up and 2.4 cool-down. Only I could run 30-flat, ha! I've gotta break 30 next time. I haven't run a 5 mile tempo in a few years - my coach has previously always taken me from 4 miles to 6 miles - so almost by default this was going to be a PR workout (pre-coach I think my best tempos were in the 6:30s), but even without that * I was pleased with it. I was not feeling confident at all going in, and told myself to just try for 6:10-6:15 pace (even though my goal range was 5:57-6:07). I looked at my watch about a half mile in and I was at 6:10 pace, but once I got going I got in a groove and knew I could hit the pace range my coach had given me! I know he won't give me paces he doesn't believe I can hit, but my confidence has been really poor recently. This workout helped it, but I'll feel better if I can string together more good runs. Spring coming will have to help with that. Double on Feb. 27...the return! I missed running them, but just like in January, it was nice to not have to get out twice on stupid cold days. Strides on Feb. 5, 12, 19, and a few before all workouts. Full body strength workouts on Feb. 3, 7, 10, 14, 17, 20, 24, and 28. I'm adapting to my new strength and agility routine, and no longer get super sore after each session. Favorite workout: It's a tie between the 4 mile and 5 mile tempos, because they both helped me keep the faith that I can have a solid season (a large number of runs this month made me lose faith!). Long Runs/Medium Long Runs: I added my midweek medium long runs to this section this month...I wanted to feel like I accomplished a little more, plus they are almost as long as my weekend long runs at this phase in my training! Feb. 3: 13.2 base (7:39). I was exhausted from the first step of this run, coming off a 3-day work trip, so it was just about getting in the miles. I ran a course I typically avoid because it's not "fast", but it's beautiful and all of the climbing was good for me both training-wise and to prevent me from comparing paces! I was solo on this one. Feb. 7: 11.1 base (7:30). I woke up to mildly icy roads that seemed dangerous, so did not run this at 5:30 a.m. as planned. With a strike of luck (i.e., work cancellation), I was able to get out late morning and meet up with Jessi to get the miles in. We dodged and slowed down for ice during the run, but it was much easier to navigate in daylight, and running in the sunlight was wonderful! Feb. 10: 12 base (7:27). The was The Run I Thought Wouldn't Happen. We were supposed to get hit with an ice storm beginning around 2 a.m., but Jessi and I planned to meet if the roads were decent. I woke up at 6 a.m. to completely dry roads, which made me very happy! We'd both run workouts the day before so we took it easy, which was also nice. The ice started falling shortly after we finished this run. Feb. 14: 11.1 base (7:17). This was a wonderful Galentine's Day run in 46*! I met up with Missy, Jessi, and Rebecca to run what Missy calls "The 11 mile death loop". It isn't really, but the name has stuck. 1 mile of it runs on a rural highway that actually has traffic before 6:00 a.m. - but the traffic is nearly all going into Springfield and we run the same direction that it is going (on the left side of the road) so that it's primarily on the opposite side of the road, and I never feel unsafe. Feb. 18: 14.4 with 3 progressive fast finish (7:11 for the whole run), described above. This run had to be bumped from Saturday to Sunday due to Saturday morning's 6+ hours of 35* and pouring rain (cold rain is the worst!). Everyone ran different distances this day, but I had company for most of the run: Rebecca (8 miles), Zach (10 miles), and Jessi (12 miles). Feb. 21: 11.4 base (7:51), solo, tired, and patchy black ice. Since falling on Feb. 12 I became pretty timid around ice. Feb. 24: 14.1 base (7:19), with Missy, Zach, and Claudio. It pretty much rained all day except for during our run, so we lucked out on this one. Feb. 28: 11 base (7:09) with Missy, Rebecca, and Zach to wrap up the month! If you throw out my icky run on Feb. 21, my pace showed a nice downward progression throughout the month. It is difficult not to compare my current runs to my best, but I am 16 weeks out from Grandma's and I think I am around where I was, or perhaps even a little faster than I was, when I was 16 weeks out from CIM. Highlights/thoughts/randomness: Missouri winter weather sucks for training. This is not a highlight, but is a fact! I don't do well with uncertainty, and there was so much weather uncertainty this month. There were times we had no snow forecasted and then it began snowing and my weather app immediately changed to 3 inches of snow, but there were also times when I thought for sure I wouldn't be able to run based on the forecast, then woke up to perfect road conditions and headed out! I did my first indoor run of the season due to icy roads on Feb. 5: 8 miles, which entailed 60 laps on the YMCA indoor track. I'm glad I'm generally able to get outdoors, because that type of training is not nearly as enjoyable and does not seem sustainable for me! My second indoor run was that same week, on Feb. 11, on my home treadmill that I hadn't used on 2 years, because the roads were too hazardous to drive to the YMCA (every church in our area cancelled services on this day). I initially figured I should just skip my run, but by about 10:30 a.m. I caved and used the treadmill, mainly because I only needed 4 more miles to get over 60 that week. I didn't get injured from it, which has been my fear after I got injured from it in early 2016, but it was also just one short and easy run. On Feb. 12, the roads were still an ice rink and schools were cancelled, but it warmed up nicely and I was able to get out during the day (I have a plethora of work cancellations when school is out for winter weather). I wanted to run as early as I could to give myself more time between this 9 miler and my workout the following morning, so I went out around 11:15 a.m. Not even a half mile into the run, I traversed what I thought was a wet spot on the road, but it included some black ice and I fell down hard. I picked myself up and stubbornly continued my run, but from then on I walked over any even slightly questionable spots on the road. I ended up really sore in the subsequent days in my right knee, hip, and rib. I think I bruised my rib in a very minor way because it hurt to breathe slightly for about a week...but I didn't miss any runs. I've run every day since 1/27/18...the streak begins again. It only looks pretty I took this the morning of Feb. 12, the day I fell running at lunch Non-running life events: I spent 3 days in the St. Louis area for a work conference at the beginning of the month. I don't do that much overnight travel for work, aside from Kansas City trips on which I always stay with a friend, and having a hotel room to myself is always a weird experience! The first day is, "Yay, I have quiet, I can do whatever I want, and I get to eat in bed! Work is buying me appetizers, salmon, and dessert!" The third day is, "This is awful, I hate this silence, I am so bored, and I hate eating out." Hah! I read a lot and actually never turned on my hotel room's TV. Valentine's Day, which was more exciting for Albani than anyone else (because, candy!), but we all had fun nonetheless. Jon and I have never been big on celebrating it, but always exchange cards and something small, typically a food item. I gave him a box of Sour Patch Kids that he'd mentioned craving the weekend before, and he gave me mixed nuts and cashews, which I go through by the tin during heavy training. We enjoyed watching the winter Olympics, but I am ready for them to add cross-country! We were kind of boring this month. Everyone did a lot of reading. A lazy day at home spent in pajamas My lazy day activity aside from reading (cross-stitching) Albani made a paper mache ice cream cone (minus the final paint job here) February crafting at the library Bandit has claimed the agility ladder Lots of reading.. We always need something at Lowe's (and by we I mean my husband) My new favorite sports bra! Bandit seems to have put on winter weight too

It was only supposed to be 10 miles, and easy at that. The wind roared. I could feel our house brace against it, hear the trees bend to it. I pulled the blanket up tighter around my head and let the chill pass through me, rattling my shoulders, before sleep took me again. But not for long. The power had gone out sometime in the middle of the night. Erratic, window-rattling gusts outside had replaced the soothing white noise of our fan inside. I slept light and woke often. When at last it was time to get up, I tottered downstairs – sluggish and heavy from the weeks’ accumulated mileage. Only 10 miles, I thought, pulling on shoes and slipping into a windbreaker. “Bring your phone!” Rachel called from upstairs. “Ok,” I said with reluctance, while rooting through our basket of gear to find the appropriate armband. I took a deep breath and pulled open the front door. I stepped outside and stiffened, but only a strong breeze brushed across my face. Not so bad, I thought, and started off at a trot, dodging the branches, papers, and containers that littered the circle by our house. Something had happened here. Traces of my tempo run from Tuesday still lingered in the tops of my quads as I made the climb to the road. The main drag was eerily still, with the exception of the steady whooshing in the treetops. People had heeded the call to stay inside, and a touch of regret dropped into my stomach. A forecast of sustained 40 mph winds with gusts up to 70mph will do that. Treadmill? I thought. Ten miles on the treadmill? Worth the risk. I pressed on. The air around me suddenly went still, but off in the distance, I could hear the wind gathering. It rushed through the trees behind me first and then was on me all at once – a tidal wave lifting and pushing me forward. I turned my legs over quicker, trying to keep up with the pace, until the wave finally receded. A few miles later, I descended onto the gravel path that wound along the stream. The woods moaned. Bare trees swayed and rocked violently against one another. Sharp breaks cracked the air as boughs strained and then snapped, sending branches crashing onto the trail. My pace quickened. I surveyed the carnage that the storm had delivered in the middle of the night, cognizant that the damage was not done yet. Despite my best efforts to blow through the woods quickly, fallen limbs blocked my path. I emerged from the woods and let my breathing (and my heartbeat) return to normal. When the wind abated, it was just another tired, Friday run and I fell into an easy cadence. I recalled the previous month, the illness, the injury, the lingering illness. And how for the past two weeks, I had finally been able to string together good, consistent training. I kept thinking, If I can just get to March healthy…. And here I was, the wind washing clean the stains of the month prior. I retraced my steps down the backstretch of where I had tempoed on Tuesday – albeit at a much slower clip now – buoyed by the optimism of how good my legs and lungs felt finally working together. I made the turn for home. The world was black and white. Steely clouds raced across the sky. Debris tornadoes spun up suddenly – leaves, wrappers, and paper caught in the vortex – and just as quickly fell apart. Errant snowflakes whipped by. Chaos reigned. A bad trip. The wave of wind that rushed behind me on the way out was now a wall I had smashed full on into. I strained against the blow. My hat flirted with abandoning me, but I pulled it down hard again. I relaxed against the invisible force pushing me back, feeling myself lifted with every footfall. When it would suddenly relent, I surged forward, gaining as much ground as possible. I returned to the circle and began the slow walk back to the house, relieved and invigorated. As I unlaced my shoes, I kept reciting Hemingway in my head, “None of it was important now. The wind blew it out of his head.”

Nothing seems to make runners more prone to making huge racing plans than being injured but I'll add sleep deprivation to that. Despite me saying "I'm not signing up for any races in 2018"... screw it. Life is short. Too short. I've got a few trail races I'm eyeballing and I'll figure it out soon. I need something to focus on and work towards. I am only getting 2-3 hours of sleep in a row at night and some nights my total is 4-5 hours. Chris (boyfriend) has the most trouble at night with pain and trying to sleep. Some nights it's fine and he only wakes me once or twice. The result is I'm approaching peak sleep deprivation and my judgement and decision making is possibly not the best. Lucy, the dog that belongs to my boyfriend, has decided she's not at all happy about the current situation of being at my house for an extended period of time. At her house she gets to run free in the woods behind the house, chase squirrels, etc. At my house (in town) she has to be on a leash to go for a walk until we get to a quiet trail and then she can run off leash in the woods. She wants Chris to take her outside for walks but doing laps around the yard is all he's capable of so far. I took her for my morning run on Thursday morning but it was all in town and in the dark and she didn't go off-leash. She was not thrilled. I think I'll just take her for runs and walks in the daylight after work so we can go on the wooded trail and she can run free. She's a great off-leash trail runner because she doesn't let me get too far out of sight and always listens when I tell her "too far" or "let's go" when she's too far ahead or too far behind me. She's also decided to stop going #2 and isn't drinking much water. Colonel Cupcake's wife Beth knows way more about dogs than I do so I consulted her and she said that Lucy is stressed, depressed, and not happy. 13 more days and they go home. We'll all survive. I'm crafting some fun running plans for summer and fall... it's doing my soul good to focus on that right now.

YAY!!!!!!

The Year of the Dog is upon us—and no, that’s not a reference to the state of my fitness. Although my times may be lagging and my tongue may be wagging, I’ve actually returned to a fairly normal training regimen with fairly normal mileage. This particular Dog headlines the Lunar New Year in China, and that means it was time for the 40th Annual Chinatown Firecracker Run, which I’d somehow managed to avoid over the years. But when your times become embarrassing, it’s only natural to disguise them by running arduous hill courses that absolutely no one runs fast. And this one, at least in its first half, was pretty brutal. I prepared for the race by watching a lot of Winter Olympics and soaking up all that awesome fitness in skintight suits. I’ve always thought that if I’d grown up in the upper Midwest, I could have been a decent biathlete. Mrs. AB made it through the Iteva-Edeva figure skating showdown (I fell asleep), but decided that she hates curling (I, on the other hand, found it weirdly fascinating). And after careful consideration, I decided that the most entertaining Winter Olympics sport is that one in which snowboarders race four at a time down a crazy series of hills and do death-defying leaps while trying not to crash into one another. The Winter Olympics are truly comfort food on a cold February night, and the only real downside is seeing the same commercials over and over again. I mean, why was Mikaela Shiffrin in such a rush to get out of that ice bath? Did she suddenly realize it was cold? Was her Visa card about to expire? But I digress. I also prepared for the Chinatown race on my job. I’m currently doing a long-term assignment as a middle school P.E. sub, and once a week the kids run Cardio Day. For approximately 25 minutes, they circle the school track, running as many laps as possible until whistled in (7 laps is a C, 10 is an A+). Since there are other P.E. teachers and teaching assistants around to supervise and count laps, I was able to join in and show off get a short workout while encouraging the kids. (For the record, I’ve been able to do as many as 14 laps.) Then, after work, I would pick up my wife at her school, where I helped her hang an art project of Chinese lanterns from her ceiling. Our school district is majority Asian, so the Lunar New Year is a fairly big deal. And it was all coming to a climax in Chinatown on a cold (for L.A., anyway) but sunny Sunday morning. Where there’s smoke, there are fireworks—100,000 of them. There was also a dragon, although you could barely see him from the back of the 5K pack. As Mrs. AB took off with the crowd of 5K walkers, I found a quiet spot in which to warm up for the 10K run. We’d taken the Metro to Chinatown, checked our post-race gear, and I gradually shed layers as the 8:30 start approached. The 10K route starts and ends in Chinatown, and basically makes a big looping orbit of Dodger Stadium in the hills of Elysian Park. It’s almost all uphill for the first 2.5 miles, and just seems to go on and on. Whenever I was tempted to look down at Igor and check my pace, I refrained, hearing in my head the famous last line in the movie Chinatown. This course was no place to worry about speed; it was a test of quads and resolve, and above all, a really great workout. Later, I found out that my first three splits were 9:23, 10:19, and 9:37. But right when you reach a clearing and look down at Dodger Stadium, you crest those hills and get your payoff. It’s ironic: when I was young, I was an assassin on the uphills, but too cautious to make good use of the downhills. Now, at 64, I often get passed on the uphills, but turn into Lindsey Vonn on the way down, passing many of those same people. Meanwhile, Mrs. AB was trading photo ops with other walkers in front of the Dodger Stadium. Is it baseball yet? Almost! I was gassed almost to a standstill at the course’s apex, but my splits took a major turn for the better in the second half: 7:54, 8:12, 8:20, with a 7:20 pace on the final, flat .2. It all came out to 55:13, which is bad for me even when you take the hills into consideration. But I got the workout I needed. And then—this being Chinatown—there was food. Flaky-crust delicacies gave way to Vietnamese noodle soup after a quick search of local restaurants. No, I wasn’t hungry again an hour later. But I was ready for a nap…and more Olympics. There were skating pandas in the Closing Ceremonies—a fitting end to our New Year’s adventure.

I can hear the rain outside as I get ready. There’s a sound the wet highway makes outside my building and I’ve learned to judge how bad it is by the sound. I’m not looking out the dark windows. I don’t need to. It’s an important workout today. 40T The first one of the cycle. Sure I have more than enough time to make up any fitness if I skip but missed runs are a bad habit that I don’t want to start. It chips away. I check my phone out of habit. No text. No email. I feel a thin, sharp, stab in my chest that I’m not prepared for. A splinter working its way out. I refuse to give it any more thought. I change clothes again. I never know what to wear in this weather. You will be wet. Your hands will be wet. Your feet will get soaked. It’s too cold to enjoy the rain. You can either over dress or be wet and cold. It’s about minimizing discomfort. There is no comfortable. I procrastinate as much as possible before I head out. I get three floors down before deciding that the cold and the wet are unacceptable. I turn around and walk three floors up before deciding that I’m more intimidated by my run than I am of the rain. Discomfort is a poor excuse and being comfortable is only seen as the default for the spoiled. I turn around and walk the five flights down and out of my building before I lose momentum. The rain is cold and hurts my face but I am determined. My workout calls for 10 minutes warm up, 20 minutes gaining steady speed to 5K, 10 minutes cool down. I speed up. I speed up. I tune out the rain and the cold and the sloshing in my shoes. I tune out the one or two other runners I see on the piers. I am alone. I am getting faster. I am uncomfortable. The mile clicks over as I hit my last two fast minutes. I hit 7:35 pace and hold on. For those two minutes my lungs are on fire, burning out the splinter. I am running ugly but I am running fast. And then I’m done. It’s the cool down. I am soaked and I am cold and I am uncomfortable but I am damn happy with myself.