Training Log Archive: Orunner

Event: OCIN Apocalypse O
 

C • We await your story 1

OCIN_Seven_Hills_Dec_2012_Green - Splits

I went to bed without checking the morning forecast. It's funny how thoughts will percolate through the mind, conscious or not, to the forefront. I awoke in a panic, not knowing what was in store; would it be cold or comfortable; wet or dry; windy or calm?

No problem, there was time, I could check the weather now. But wait, I think I remember Tuesday morning getting up and finding my Sunday running clothes still lying in a soiled heap on the laundry room floor (aka the basement). I scrambled to scrounge up suitable dry digs two days ago. I had needlessly anticipated some precipitation that day, and having a limited supply of appropriate rags for wet and chilly weather, left my self with no reserves. Did I ever wash them or the, now aging and past ripe, set from Sunday? Darn. There they are, on the floor, next to the bur encrusted orienteering pant and top. (need to get that set deburred before Saturday morning.)

Looking outside I saw a dark but calm and pleasant setting. Checking my personal radar site (http://orunner.net/ebv/weather.html) showed a wall of rain currently at the IN-OH state line and heading East. It was a green band from Canada to the Gulf. What's more, it contained large patches of yellow and red. That's not fun to get caught in. I needed my gear. But the temperature was nearing 50° so I wanted to keep it light. I tossed a few things in the dryer for few minutes and dug out my duck bill ball cap.

Wasn't sure whether Rueban would be running with us this morning or not. Meaning: Steve would drive us to the park instead of risking running on the highway. I grabbed a towel and stood in the foyer, dressed in knitted polymer garments warm from the dryer. Still no sign of rain outside the door, but I knew it was coming. I saw Steve ghosting down the walk in the deary black predawn morn. So I tossed the unneeded towel and headed out for an inevitable wet time in the town today.

It turns out Rueban had not been running for the past few months. So the 6 miles he did with Steve and I two days ago was sending him a message. Thus he chose to consider a carefully-phrased personal response and not to take any further abuse with us. I don't blame him.

The rain came. A half mile down the road large heavy drops fell like wet bombs. 60 seconds later it stopped. Then the winds kicked up. And without any specific awareness, dampness began penetrating my outer layer. It may have been a combination of mist & rain, falling & blowing. But by the time we reached downtown, 10 minutes after it started, we were running in a gentle winter shower.

Thankfully my orange Brunton cap is up to the job. It kept my glasses dry and head warm. My thin shirts, although saturated through, held in enough heat , and held out enough wind to allow the run remain a pleasure. I am sure many of those frantically driving to work in such miserable conditions thought we were at best unfortunate or just insane. I do truly enjoy a nice run in the rain.

Steve has family coming into town for the holidays. His stepson, Rueban Garrow, joined us this morning, for a nice leisurely jog. It had rained earlier and remained overcast at 7:15 A.M. leaving us in a state of darkness blacker than normal at that hour. With three of us running, we would just be a bigger target on the highway on this dark gloomy morning, the trucks and cars wizzing by at 55+ and seeing nothing but the road ahead. So we drove down to the Sewage treatment plant (aka Riverside Nature Preserve) to be safer and give us a change of view.

We chose to run south on the bike path through Joyce Park and on down to Fairfield's Waterworks Park (aka their sewage treatment plant.) The river was up and flowing. It's nice to see it filled and busy. It looks so much more like a wilderness river along this route under wet conditions, less hungry or dieing as it often does.

I enjoy my morning runs with Steve. But it is nice to mix it up and have a change in the standard conversation routine we have with each other at every meeting. So having Rueban there was a treat. He lives in North Carolina where he works for Ecolab at a soap making facility. As their Production Manager in Greensboro he keeps busy but he harbors other interests which align with mine. Not that I am against soap.

He is a craft beer brewer and has been brewing for nigh onto two years now. Similar to my #2 daughter, Vickie, this is his passion. I hope he comes to his senses and gives up that silly job for a meaningful career in brewing, one that lends to a more hoppy life. What is more, he and Vickie both share the odd attraction to Mudatholons, a form of running that to me looks fun, but I dare not risk the actual partaking.

Pathetically slow, but at least able, we finished the run. And hope to repeat the experience two days hence.

We may have to end the TROL season earlier this year. I was just checking the weather.



Sadly, we will miss out on the new SHP map.

C • SHP... 2

As Steve and I run every other morning, it was two days ago that we last spoke. After our run Friday, following our ceremonial cool down stroll, less a regimental practice seated in sound science or reasonably expected from experienced coaches, and more like the twitching of a severed frog leg slowly coming to its end, not realizing there is no more frog, we, having satisfied to a minimum standard the needs of our major muscles, walking half a block up the street and back again, parted.

Steve, knowing details of my habits and life, perhaps beyond truth itself, was well aware of my hopes to Orienteer the following day. He analyzed the current information from our morning conversation and the knowledge he possesses of my past, and presented a reasonable path for our next encounter, “I guess since you are orienteering tomorrow, I will see you Tuesday morning.”

‘Huh’, I thought. He was thinking I would take Sunday off. I had not thought about that myself. I just assumed I would run. ‘Maybe I should not’, I considered, internally. ‘I want to keep training, but if I Orienteer, I may be in need of rest.’ “I don’t know, I’ll let you know”, I replied.

As my log will show I O’d yesterday, but I felt good during the event, and did not suffer majorly after. I would run the next day for sure. Yet, last evening, as I admitted the end of my day had come, realizing the book I was reading had fallen to my face twice, smudge marks on the page; I pulled up the covers and flipped off the light, falling fast asleep for the night, without calling my dear friend and running partner, having forgotten the uncertainty in my now deliberate intentions. Oops.

This morning I got up, checked the temperature, went through my pre-run regimen, (it was a long tech tee, and running shorts day), and moseyed on down the street, four houses away, to join forces with my neighbor, to form, perhaps, the most senior running pair in the city. Yet, there was no Steve. I had forgotten to call. Being an otherwise sane individual, he likely chose to wait for a bit more sunlight, and although, incredibly comfortable at 7:00, maybe some more warmth and surety of dry skies.

I gave him the understood 5 minute courtesy wait, just in case, and following a personal dialog weighing the pros and cons of going back to bed, I proceeded with a simple city run of 4.5 miles along the highway, through downtown, the hood, and back.

Three days in a row, I am sore now.

Steve, I will see you Tuesday morning.