Story of my life (Part 1)

I love my wife and all, but this is how our conversations are going these days. Which, in and of itself, rocks, as I’m into my second year of staying under 175, the longest I’ve been this skinny (though still above the “normal” BMI – still have work to do, hence the “tuber”) since before I went to college and discovered beer (mmmmmm – beer). (It also doesn’t help that the Frazz homepage says that Jeff Mallett, who Jon says is a quality human being, swam the freakin’ Strait of Mackinac for charity.)

Before I get into my paean to late summer, an admin item – Missy’s running the Niantic Bay Half Marathon on Sunday as her last hurrah before Hartford. The boys and I will be there as soon as church lets out. Michelle will be there selling Bondi Bands, which are so cool I’m thinking about getting one to keep my ears warm in winter. Should be good – an early fall afternoon at the beach. Hopefully they’ve kept the chowder despite getting rid of the Marathon.

Now – Late summer.

Dianna nailed the beginning of fall this week. I broke out of my rut toady after work (at an undisclosed location) for a freakin’ great run. Freed of the normal time constraints by a loving and patient wife, I set out and, much like Mark, I embraced “Run, Billy, Run!” and ran, ran, ran, ran, ran. I took the iPod with me for Nike+, but didn’t plug in the headphones.

And, man.

There’s nothing like a fall run on an Indian Summer day. A little bit of warm and humidity had rolled in – should have great thunderstorms tonight. The sun was getting low on the horizon, and the light of the “golden hour” was amplified by the strong hints of color on the trees. Blissfully little traffic, and I surprised myself by finding some wonderful rail-trail.

So I ran.

I knocked out about 3.5 before I came to a big hill. Paused Nike+, and walked for a little bit. Kept walking, exploring the area, and wondering about those who’d been here before.

Rural New England is the absolute greatest. There’s a history here unlike much of the rest of the country. Business empires and factories built and forgotten. Roads and rails and whole communities slowly disappearing under blankets of rotting leaves, thick oaks and maple roots tearing up the hopes and dreams of a century ago.

I wandered past an abandoned reservoir, wondering who’d built it, and if they’d known that it’d be choked with lilies and marsh grass someday instead of providing power for their water wheels. Flushed a covey(?) of grouse, and got a flashback of the quickening of the pulse and sharpening of the senses that is the draw of hunting upland game. Came across a pond, crept up over a hill, and jumped a couple of dozen ducks. They’d carved paths between the lilies and duckweed, and made a ruckus as they flew off.

Ran another mile and a half, and walked for about an hour or so in addition. Nike+ gave me credit for 5 miles running, so I figure I did between 8 and 9 miles total with the walking. Just what the body needs.

This weekend, I’m going to plow through “Run less, run faster”, and actually chisel out a training schedule for OKC. 7 months to go. Which translates to 3 months (12 weeks) to drop 10 pounds (completely plausible, ‘cept for Thanksgiving and Christmas), and 16 weeks to go from an 8 mile long run to 26.2 again.

Man, I’m psyched.

Story of my life continues below the break.

(So completely not true. Honestly. Never, ever, felt this way about anything. Really)