5k Training and Golf Balls

 

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My next goal is to build up speed. I'd like to run 3.1 miles in under 30 minutes as if it were 2010. So striders and other forms of quickness-building exercises join my training regimen. 

I've been stretching out in a new location within sight of the Wilson-Harding Golf Course. It is absolutely golf ball heaven. On Monday I collected seven—a new record. Do I golf? No. Do I give them to golfers? Sometimes. Do I throw them at rude drivers? Not yet. 

There's a site online that offers seventy cents a ball. This could be a nice cottage industry to supplement my golden years. A Merry Christmas to all!   

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EZ Morning Run

Learning to Live

Out on the trails before noon. Three miles and back home before it got any hotter.

I received an email from the LA Marathon. They said if I sign up and the event is cancelled, then I can credit my race to a future marathon. Basically, send us money today and you might get a number next year or so.

Deal?

Well, it beats hiding out from old Wuhan Virus.

Pandemic Running

hikespeak

Finally, the trails in Griffith Park reopened and I can run somewhere other than around the block. Depression struck hard and I fell off all exercise the last few weeks. But now I'm rejuvenated and ready to build up my mileage once more.

I carry a mask, but don't wear it while running, relying on sunlight and fresh air to check the crafty Wuhan bug.

What will the future of racing be? Nowdays, runners may compete via the honor system in virtual races where they sign up, pay an entrance fee, run on their own, then receive finisher medals in the mail. A rather sterile endeavor. But I can't imagine any old-fashioned road races in the near future. This does dampen, but not extinguish, my marathon plans.

As a general note, I believe yesterday to be the most pre-pandemic day I've experienced since early March. Not only was traffic heavy, but I observed a maskless couple in a BMW zip into a handicapped parking space, run into a liquor store and buy cigarettes.

It's nice to see some of LA returning to normal.

Fear of Elderly Male Runners

WBUR Maybe it wasn't this crowded. 

Running in Early 2020

Normally, I don't run Saturdays and I most certainly don't run in Griffith Park. Like the Rose Bowl, the park's trails are alive with runners, almost all of whom are faster than I. One also encounters a fair number of runner/dog walkers.

Gerontophobia

Alamy There was a dog, too, and no track. Just read the copy

Leading a little mutt on a leash, this chick in her thirties zipped past me. Fine. I'm used to it. A few hundred yards ahead, she slows and allows her mutt to nose around the leaves on the side of the trail. I continue on pace. But as I near her location, she tugs the dog by the leash. "Come on." Off she goes at a good clip. Whatever. I continue on pace. Rounding a curve, I spot her again, letting the mutt sniff away near a telephone pole. This time I ran past her. Behind me I hear, "Come On." Yanking the dog along, she speeds up to pass me. This time the woman burned some calories. At one point, she turned around and checked the distance between us. Then I lost sight of her.

When young male runners find themselves passed by young female runners they call it being "chicked," I believe there's a corollary. Gerontophobia is fear of the elderly. From my observations, I suspect certain young women detest being passed by older men or "fossiled." Having coined the phrase, I will now translate it with my college German:

 Befürchtungen Alte Männer

Brittanica A German scholar.

Nothing says dead serious like a German translation. So now you know two words and a phrase to describe the aforementioned condition:

1. Gerontophobia - far too formal.
2. Fossiled - Just the right touch of breezy American slang.
3. Befürchtungen Alte Männer - Only if you enjoy being a snotty show-off.

Choose whatever you will, but I suspect such a phobia may've been in play on this chilly morning.

Black Days in 2018

Without creating a link web that no one ever follows, 2018 was a brutal year for my physical fitness. In toting up my 2019 mileage, I noticed I didn't really start fully running until July. (That means running my training distance with zero miles walking.) Curious, I checked my stats for '18. In June, I injured my good right leg—not the benighted left leg—climbing over a construction fence. And that was it. Save for a brief half-mile, I did not run again for six months. And I did not resume where I left off for over a year. No wonder I weighed 271 pounds.

More news on a possible marathon coming soon. Soon. Oh, so very soon. Did I tease it enough? SEO, SEO, click, link, SEO.

Griffith Park Luau 5k: Thoughts, Insights, Ruminations

Back with yet one more huge 5k medal.

I loath 5ks that allow strollers and dogs. Especially when the women pushing the strollers are faster than I. Also, it's not a grand idea to run 3.1 miles along Griffith Park bridal trails on a Saturday morning, which is a peak usage period. People training for marathons and sundry other races bolt through the pack and around the runners with dogs stopping to talk to non-runners with dogs. For the second 5k in a row, I felt a slight lactic acid buildup at the start, followed by fatigue, and the desire to quit and walk the race. Fortunately, such thoughts, if unentertained, turn listless and meander off.

On the upside, this was home ground. I often train on these very trails during the week when no one is about. On mile three, I was passed by a woman pushing a stroller and talking on the phone. This was too much. But I knew something she didn't. The final .1 mile featured very loose soil. Tricky for runners, especially those pushing wheeled conveyances. I passed her in the home stretch. But she found a patch of solid ground and came on strong. I gave it the gas and almost reinjured my knee, but extended myself enough to keep from being picked off at the finish line.

Thanks to this woman and child, I achieved my modest running goal for the race. (Sub 36 minutes, if you must know.)

Oh, Chi

Back in May, I noted different features of Chi Running. Today, I did quite well staying with cadence and leaning forward. But I lacked a speed burst. When stroller woman kicked, I fell out of chi running form and tried to race old school. This resulted in a tortured hybrid style that inflicted a sharp knee pain—the signal that I'm doing something wrong. This week I'll mark out 200 meters or so and practice sudden accelerations. In case I encounter more strollers.

Hallow Mass Volume II Outline  

Sloppy, scattered, but underway. I need to set solid deadlines if I hope to publish by Christmas of this fine year. I reread the original and was pleasantly surprised it didn't offend me with as many errors and poor writing as I'd feared. But onwards to December. 

A Marathon for Me?

What's happened since July 4? Steady progress and early morning runs to beat the heat as I continue my plan of running a monthly 5k. In addition to augmenting a considerable technical tee-shirt collection, the races keep me focused and motivated to pick up the pace a bit on my 3x a week training runs. Coming up in August: the Luau 5k in Griffith Park.

Was a Marathon Mentioned in the Post Head?

 

Yes, good catch. I have set a goal: to RUN a marathon. Not soon. Not in 2019. Possibly in 2020, or so. But that distance will be target as I intend to chronicle my running comeback with a book detailing the decade of injuries, operations and dashed hopes that upended my dream of completing the Boston Marathon. The attempt to once more cover 26.2 miles—locally—will be the scaffolding upon which I construct a tale of defeat and . . .? Time, effort and a bit of luck will write the ending.

Who Are the Fine Contenders? 

Van Garner suggested I shoot for the all-downhill Ventura Marathon. A solid choice. Another selection might be the Surfers Point Marathon, a flat ocean-front course. In fact, my wife shall be joining me this November for a 5k along a portion of said marathon. Courses fast and flat or all downhill lack terrain variety and can stress your leg muscles through repitition. But I wont' be breaking any records. To finish an upcoming marathon, is to wear victory laurels—from a writing standpoint.

Hopefully, I don't end up like Pheidippides.