Cold And Flu Season Found Me

Well, it had to happen. I got a head cold.

I did manage to go for nearly three years without one. Note that the last bout of illness was a chest infection that turned into pleurisy, but that’s another story. Hey, go big or go to the hospital, right?

Fortunately, I had a week off between races to recover. All that sniffling and coughing made running miserable. I went four days without exercise, probably the longest period I’ve ever gone relatively idle. Not that I spent the time doing nothing. Carpets do not vacuum themselves, and bathrooms do not scrub themselves, so housework continued.

My most recent race was a trail race a day ago. It was not a bad finishing time, but I have not done much trail running, as I am concentrating on asphalt in preparation for this week’s 10 K. I will resume more trail running next month, in preparation for a trip to the Carolinas this summer; no race found there yet, but I am hoping to do a little mountain running while there.

A few weeks ago, I did a 5K in an area hit by a tornado last year. Fortunately, most of the homes and businesses in the development were still under construction, and no one was injured. But it was fascinating to go there and see the path of destruction. A shopping center was gone, and blue tarps were on a line of houses, their windows blown out, while homes on either side were untouched. It was jarring to see the “X” marks on front doors, indicating the homes had been checked and cleared of inhabitants after the storm. This tornado outbreak, which eventually killed seven people, was west, south, and north of me, while we were spared. I appreciate Mother Nature, but she does make me wonder sometimes.

The racing season is coming to a close, with two more races on the schedule (I am looking to add at least one more). It’s been a decent one, considering my knees are not what they used to be, and getting acclimated to the heat takes longer than it used to. But the medal rack is filling up, and I recently reorganized the closet shelves to free up another shelf. More space for next season’s T-shirts.

This Race Is For You, Miss Junie

It’s been a busy race season so far, with some good finishes, and even a first-place age group win. But that first place came after a bad day.

Miss Junie died.

She was a lovely lady, a proper grande dame, and she was my “running buddy,” not in the sense that she literally followed me step for step but that she followed my racing vicariously. When I met her, she always asked about the next race, the last race, the distance, how I did, what kind of terrain, the location, and, most importantly to her, the reason for the race (if it was a fund-raiser for a good cause).

She was 88 years old when she passed away in February, after a period of protracted illnesses and surgeries. She was in pain at the end, and for much of the time I knew her. Her life’s end revolved around doctors, hospital visits, medicine, and assistance with daily life. But she never lost her spark, her interest in life, and her enjoyment in what everyone else was doing. She had strong opinions and could let loose a string of cussin’ that would impress a stevedore. She dressed to the proverbial nines, with hair, nails, makeup, and outfits all perfectly styled. She was well-traveled, read extensively, knew good food, and raised two successful sons. She was elegant, and dignified, and would never accept “no” for an answer. She started and nurtured several service organizations, and raised the seed money to start one of our local universities.

I have a race this weekend, and as the priest at her funeral service suggested, I will ask for her intercession before the start. He reminded the mourners to ask those who have left this world to intercede for us with the saints. I can use all the help I can get, here on Earth and anywhere else. You will always be with me, Miss Junie, at the start and the end of every race, and every “I hate myself for doing this” early morning practice.

Rules Change; Story Moves Forward

After rehabilitation on both knees and one foot, I have learned that the rules of workouts and competitions have come due for a reckoning.

The good news is that swimming and cycling are unaffected, as neither is hard on the joints. Kickboxing and running, however, need a little adaptation.

It’s time for orthopedic shoe inserts. I knew a long time ago these were coming, as my feet are board-flat. Even the little inky prints of my baby feet on the birth certificate have no arch. The stage was set early as far as eventual medical intervention was concerned.

It’s taken a few weeks to get accustomed to the odd firmness in the shoes, but now the inserts are working well. I think the inserts will help with speed and distance and also help stabilize my knees, which have stage one arthritis. The arthritis won’t stop my running, though it will change things. I don’t run distance on concrete or brick surfaces, which leaves some races completely out. I avoid races with steep bridge climbs and difficult trail courses. I am fine on asphalt, macadam, and trail surfaces that don’t have steep climbs, holes, or water hazards. I have done races up to eight kilometers so far; a 10K is coming up in 10 days.

It’s taken time to reflect on the need for a change in direction. I had some time during 12 weeks of knee rehabilitation, moving from angry to feeling sorry for myself to accepting the idea that I could go back to who I was, but maybe not where I was. I was not starting over, I was starting differently. More importantly, I was not giving up. I was stepping back in carefully but with determination. Slower than I was before, but still willing to do the hard work.

So now I am back, signing up for races a month ahead instead of three or four months ahead. I am racing twice a month for now, hoping to add a third race each month. I am trying to enjoy the competitive moment, instead of hanging up the medal and thinking, “OK, done. Next?”

How about you? If you’ve been redirected by injury (and I say redirected, because let’s be honest, none of us will ever admit to being stopped by it), how did you work your way back?

If I Taught A Class In Aging 101

I was listening to a comedian on TV the other night, joking about how difficult it is to reach middle age.

I hear you, buddy. Been there, and crawled through that. And looking back, I wish I’d had a manual on how to do it better. So it got me thinking about what my now-older self would warn my younger self about when it comes to reaching that time known as middle age. The exact age you hit varies, depending on your point of view, but you know it when you trip over that threshold).

  1. I would have advised myself that certain foods are not a good idea after certain evening times. Fried food, super-sweet desserts, and raw vegetables won’t let you sleep well.
  2. I would remind myself that daily exercise is a never-ending requirement. It’s for the calorie burn but it’s also about maintaining bone density and strength, muscle mass and flexibility, balance and mental sharpness. It’s not about running marathons or climbing mountains, although those are fine ideals. It’s about doing what you can, as much as you can.
  3. I would remember to keep my friends close. Many will die, drift away, move, or become less available. Reach out, even if it’s just to say hello. And stay away from negative, small-minded people who don’t have good intentions, or whose routine consists of complaints about aches and pains, loss and lives not lived.
  4. I would remember to simplify: dispose of things that no longer serve a purpose. Sell, donate, recycle, or trade what no longer serves. Move possessions forward to someone who can use them. It means less housework and worry if you own less stuff.
  5. I would be ready for the last scenario: have my final affairs in order. A will and power of attorney is for everyone, regardless of the size of one’s estate. No one should have to make these painful decisions for you when you cannot make them.
  6. I would be unafraid to continue what I love but try new things. I still plant a garden because it’s fun watching food grow (and I have to be out there to mow the lawn anyway). Learn to paint, play an instrument, speak a new language, or take up martial arts. None of these things are “useful” in a paycheck way, but they benefit the brain and social animal in you.
  7. Always shock the people around you. They don’t expect people “of a certain age” like you to do certain things. So catch them off guard with off-the-wall ideas. Write them letters (the texting generation will be stunned by this). Hire a dive boat for a day of fishing and diving (Seriously, there are creatures out there!!!!). Take some computer literacy classes; learn the lingo and how to actually fix the tech. Join a local theater company and be a star, stage fright be damned. Take an adventure vacation that includes swimming, bike, or hiking trips. Distill your own booze with a home-based kit.

My “class” is just a starter; I know you all have your own ideas. Let me know what you would do better or differently if you could start getting older over again.

I Was Dirty, Oh So Dirty (And It Was Fun!)

I did one of my longer races yesterday. An eight-kilometer trail race. Not an easy trail; it had grass, sand, roots, ruts, elevation changes, and mud. A lot of mud.

Six water hazards. Not on-purpose water hazards. We’ve had a lot of rain, and you know trails. The water does not drain the way it does in the average suburban neighborhood. I knew it could be bad when the first group (the 25-kilometer runners, who started before us) came around on their first lap and warned us “Just embrace the water!” Of course, those folks embrace the water. Most of them are used to it. That’s why they run that distance.

The rest of us are mostly relative newbies to the trail running life, doing it because a friend/relative/loved one talked us into it, doing it as an alternative to hard-surface running, or just fell into it because we were looking for something new to do (I am in the third category, as I started during the pandemic when road races were rare).

It was messy out there. One of the water hazards was literally swimmable for someone as short as me. I was seething when I saw the better runners dash through it like gazelles over savannah grasslands. How do they do that without losing balance, water bottles, sunglasses, ear pods, or anything else? I couldn’t even lift my sodden feet out of the mud and had to tiptoe through or when possible, around the water, slithering through muddy roots and trees too fragile to provide a decent handhold.

But I got through it, and when I collapsed into my car, I peeled off my shoes and socks and put on dry spares. I gulped some high-sugar beverage and drove home, forced to deal with my stinky self the whole hour’s drive. No amount of open windows plus air conditioning could handle that skunky smell. If you’ve ever run or fallen in standing swamp water, you know that odor. It’s a rank stench that reminds you of what might have been in that muck that you fortunately didn’t encounter.

I tossed my outfit and the towels I used into the washing machine upon arriving home. My machine has five extra wash settings (blood, dirt, wine, grass, tomato) and now needs a sixth: “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!” Or maybe “YOU ARE A FILTHY LITTLE CRETIN!” Perhaps “THAT IS BEYOND GROSS!” I ran my trail shoes through a hard hosing-down three times and mud still came out.

Despite the mud, heat, and humidity, I did enjoy the race. This is my final year doing this one, due to age and aging knees. I won’t stop trail running, of course. Just plan to find some easier courses, hopefully with a little less water.

Note To Self: Take Those Trail Signs Seriously Next Time

Two races into the season thus far (a fourth and a first in age group), both road races.

The first big trail race is under two weeks away. I recently visited a big local state park with wild scenic trails, to get practice on trails similar to what I will race in a few weeks.

I know this park fairly well, I’m thinking as I drive there. I’ve looked at it on the Alltrails website, so I know what’s where. I’ve been there, so I think I’m sure I know the terrain.

Turned out I was wrong. Things have changed. And I managed to compound the issue by ignoring those very helpful signs. You know, the ones that say things like Beginner, Intermediate, and Expert.

That’s right. I just pretended it was going to be fine. And in the end, it was. The choice of an expert trail run was probably the wrong idea, but it was good practice. Wrong because it was longer and harder than I expected and it was stupid hot out there. Right because I faced a tough run and got through it. Right because I plan to go back this weekend for one final trail practice and bring extra water. And exact change for the entry fee to the park. Apologies to the nice lady at the front gate for handing her a $20 right off first thing in the morning.

I have long believed that if you face the worst imaginable in training, then nothing that happens in competition will surprise you or take you out. So I will be out on the tough trail next week. Meanwhile, things are good, knees are doing fine and the body is overall holding up well, considering its relative age.

First Race, New Season, I Am Back!

It’s Monday, a sort of recovery day if going to kickboxing, washing floors, draining the air conditioning line, and (later on, weather permitting) mowing the lawn counts as recovery.

Hey, life’s daily chores are still here, race or not.

It was a good race on Sunday, considering I had not raced since February’s injury. I chose something low-key, asphalt surface, flat, and new to me. I had to add some extra warm-up and stretch time and took my meds before the race. Other than being somewhat more dehydrated than normal (it’s August, after all), I did well. I was out shooting on the range Saturday; I had the last-minute opportunity to take my safety course certification, and I passed. It was a long test involving the firing of four handguns, so I was on my feet in the heat for longer than I expected. Overall, I felt pretty good Sunday afternoon with no unexpected pains.

I am happy to add another medal to the collection and another T-shirt to the many stacked on the shelves. OK, I know that sounds a little simplistic. But I like those things. They show me where I’ve been and remind me of all the hard work I’ve done. I see them last thing at night and first thing in the morning for a reason. They remind me why getting out of bed, ready for a workout or not, is important.

My next scheduled race is September 21, but I would like to squeeze in one more before then. So I need to check all the race calendars and find a reason for my next early Sunday rising.

Two Men Go Out For Breakfast…

I kickbox three times a week, in the early morning. In fact, I usually open up the place with the owner/trainer and his son. I like the feeling of upping my energy level (and earning my breakfast). And it’s too hot later on anyway.

Every time I come out of the gym, around 6:40 a.m. or so, I see an older model Lincoln pull into a handicapped parking spot not far from where I am parked. Two men get out and walk slowly towards the breakfast/lunch joint a few doors down. The passenger is an older man, white-haired, leaning slightly on a cane for support. The younger man has a mid-thigh to mid-calf knee brace and has a stilted gait, but he’s obviously the one getting out of the driver’s seat. They maneuver close together, not helping each other, yet close enough just in case, through the lot and onto the sidewalk without issue like they’ve done this a lot.

I’ve never been close enough to hear any conversation between the two, but I suspect there isn’t a need for much talk. Father and son, perhaps? Widower and other relative, or a professional caretaker? I asked my trainer about them, and while he had seen them, he confessed knowing nothing about them, other than an obvious fondness for the breakfast a few doors down.

I like to observe the active commiseration between people. I only wish there was more of it. I met up with a friend last weekend; our first stop was a gun show (My initial visit to such an event and for now, let’s just say it was a cultural experience I’d never had before and will write about in detail later) and then went out for lunch. Just two of us in a booth, no cell phones in use (he does keep his out because he has a teenage daughter out in the world) eating, drinking, and talking about pretty much anything. I looked around and saw groups at tables where no one was talking to anyone else, but everyone was staring at their phone screens.

I have a question. Why do you go out with others, only to sit and stare at a screen?

Didn’t we spend too much time doing this isolated during the worst of the pandemic? Did we get so awful at the art of conversation that we can no longer account for ourselves as social beings? Is the screen easier because it doesn’t argue, answer back, or disagree with what you say, think, or do? Or is it time to ditch the old social circle and find or build a new one?

I hope those two breakfast buddies are together because they want to be, and it’s not done out of obligation or lack of other options. I hope their time together isn’t about just tea or coffee, toast or biscuit, over easy or fried eggs. Connection via conversation means eye contact, sharp listening, providing a safe space without assumptions, hearing the meaning in the words, and responding with words that show you heard them and want to hear more. And unless it’s an emergency call, no phones are allowed.

Olympic Optimism For All

As of this writing, the U.S. is leading in the overall medal count. And more than a few armchair athletes are getting ideas about dusting off those running shoes, inline skates, skateboards, bikes, basketballs, badminton sets, volleyball nets, and other exercise equipment, to get into the game again. Or get their toddlers into it, thinking they can start raising an Olympian if they just push hard enough.

Well, no to the second idea. It’s about a 1 in 500,000 chance, and the amount of time, money, and pain to get there is extraordinary, exhausting, and stupidly expensive. Many Olympians don’t start their sport as toddlers, but many do start very young. So that’s a lot of time to invest, only to have a pre-teen decide they hate boxing and want to take up the tuba instead. It costs an entire family time away from other things, like vacations, nights out, summer camp, restaurant dinners, family gatherings, and the chance to turn in early or sleep late. And even getting to the pinnacle isn’t assured, no matter how much work is done. One injury or illness, one adverse drug test, a bout of mental health worries, and it’s all over.

As for getting older but still getting into the game for enjoyment, why not? If you get pumped up watching water polo but never played, find out if your local pool offers lessons. Some gyms have rock climbing walls and teach proper weightlifting. You can buy badminton and volleyball sets at any sporting goods store. As for bikes or running shoes, I would say go to a pro shop and get fitted properly, just like you would for golf gear. Martial arts, including taekwondo and judo, are offered as standalone studios or part of a gym. Surfing, sailing, and open water swimming might be harder for the landlocked athlete, but consider building a vacation around the activity. Go someplace new, try out a new sport, and have a good time eating and sightseeing, too. It’s not a competition, just a way to combine sport and pleasure.

Watching the Games gets me up and going for a workout. Now, if only I still had the knees for Rugby Sevens.

Wanted: A New Trail View

I like the trails I currently run on. There’s sand, gravel, shade, some roots and ruts, occasional water puddles, and even high grass as an option. Oh, and very nice restrooms and cold water fountains.

But I need a new outlook. Something different and challenging, something that tests the brain and feet. And the knees, to some extent.

The first official race of the year is in mid-September and it is a trail race. I’ve done this one twice and while I know the course, I need the practice. It’s going to be hot if the current weather is any indication. Will the knees hold up? Are there any new hazards on the course? Can I wear enough bug spray this time? Will my new water belt/bottle combo work (now there’s an idea – test it this weekend).

I was surprised at the available trail system in the area. It’s extensive, varied, and unfortunately, not well shaded. Restrooms are a sometimes thing. Water? Bring your own.

But looking for a challenge does not include the comforts of home and couch. I was looking for a reason to work up enough of a sweat to come back and be grateful for the couch. Take today, for example. Two hours of hand washing, waxing, and detailing my car gave me a very nice rest of the day off, complete with a nice lunch sandwich, all the iced tea I could handle, and one load of washing those car towels. OK, I also emptied and cleaned the ice compartment of my freezer (the dispenser was frozen shut) but it’s a sacrifice one makes for iced tea.

So I won’t be inside beating the heat this Sunday. I will be out looking for a new happy trail. How about you? Do you ever run the same route for weeks or months, and then just decide today’s the day to change up the place?