Anyway, after an anti-climactic last week, we’re well into February. Think that I’m stuck in an entire February loop, not just Groundhog Day. January wasn’t nearly so bad a month as I’d anticipated – 11.8 K swimming (almost 8 miles? Not bad..), over 58 miles on the bike (In January, in Connecticut, all outside), and 40 miles running. Nothing groundbreaking, but a really solid month. The longest layoff I had was 4 days, and I doubled-up on 3 days.
Weight is coming down – about 184 now, compared to 186 at the beginning of the month. Need to focus on the eating – snacks kill me.
Today? Great freaking day. I dig me some running in the snow. And today was perfect – lots of snowflakes in the air but no accumulation to speak of. Kind of a snow drizzle.
Ran the perimeter road. Only saw two other folks out during lunch, and not a whole lot of other footsteps. Mid 20’s, no wind. Only big gripe is that my Nike+ SportsWatch couldn’t find the GPS satellites through the snow clouds. Strava and the Nexus 4 worked like a champ, though:
Ran Saturday (3.6 miles). Swam Monday (1.2K). So February is 8.4 miles and 1.2K in 5 days. On track for 50+ miles running and 6K in the pool – need to crank it up everywhere.
Literally? Maybe. It was, in the technical sense “Freaking Cold”, or about 19F, -something C, so we were below the zero in Canadia.
What is it with drivers in the wintertime? We live in a great town. In the summer I’ll usually see drivers head over to the opposite side to make room for runners and cyclists. But, on the same roads, same lighting conditions, etc, in the winter time it seems like the drivers are much less apt to make room. I think part of it is wanting to stay in the lane to avoid potential black ice. At least that’s what I want to think.
Anyhow, J. and I made it out for another run this morning. By “made it out”, I mean that I went in at least three times to shake the snoozing lad, and was about to leave myself when he showed up next to the door and grunted something that sounded like “Let’s Go.”
SO, about 10 minutes after we ought to be out the door, we were. I let him turn around for about a 2 mile round trip, and I kept on going out to Welles Road, which is becoming my go-to run. About 3.6 miles round trip, decent amount of elevation, but nothing earth shaking, and mostly on residential streets or sidewalks – about .25 miles each way is on the shoulder of a state highway, but it’s a wide shoulder, great sightlines – I think we’re OK.
Weight’s not good. I’m choosing to not believe the scale this morning, since I really don’t think I ate that much over the weekend, and I know I didn’t drink as much beer as it insists.
I won’t lie to you. It’s been a bad week running. Which is surprising, since last week was a great week running. But, I’ve got to face facts – I’m not a cold weather runner.
Last week ended well – huge mileage biking and running for a January week. 20 miles on the bike on my way home from work Friday afternoon despite it not being above freezing. Then a Boy Scout campout that I convinced myself I needed to go on ’cause I was making my kid go on it. But even at the scout campout, I ended up squeezing in an almost 6 miler. Life was good.
Then, MLK day came and went, and I didn’t take advantage of the beautiful weather. Then the cold came, work got busy, and I sat on my butt for the week.
This morning, I ran a bunch of errands while my wife re-organized her office. Got the stuff to refinish a coffee table and a couple of other projects, banged them out. Then, looked at the clock, saw it was 3 and the stain was on the coffee table, and headed out the door.
I’m not lying when I say that the first two miles were uphill into the wind, ’cause they were. Absolutely have to love that. Turned around, and it was much, much better. Almost survivable.
But, broke the zero, didn’t have a week with nothing.
Diet’s going better – tipped the scales pretty consistently under 185 this week despite not running.
I’ve had probably the best mileage running fall that I’ve had in freaking forever – consistently made the Saturday run with the guys from church, averaged at least once bike to work a week, whatever. But, food raised its sweet, sweet head, I started homebrewing again, and beer’s pretty darn tasty. I’ve got a great new office where we’ve got way too many great folks who bring in tasty food. Sigh.
Bleh. Over 185 at New Year. Ouch.
So, I’m back on the wagon. Just finished a trip down south for work – only one night of Chic-Fil-A, no AM biscuits, not so many beers. AND! Hit the 50 meter pool.
Love the 50 meter pool. Love swimming in general – I’ve managed to get in at least 1000 yards three days this week – Monday in the pool up here, and Tuesday and Wednesday down south.
I’d forgotten how much i love to swim. Actually, I’m not completely sure I love to swim, but it felt good to be back in the pool, working a different set of muscles than I’ve been working for most of last year. No phones, no gadgets, no nothing. Made me happy.
Anyway – running with J. in the morning. Still got better legs than the 12 year old.
Good morning run with #1 son. High 30s, overcast, dry. 3-Ish miles, conversational pace.
On one hand, nothing special. Its morning, so we get up, run to rake care of mind and body. Then food and a day of good work.
On the other hand, holy crap, it doesn’t get more special than that. Some mornings, can’t get two words out of the guy. Other mornings, he just won’t shut up. But he’s here, and I’m here, and its just what we do.
Run and talk.
And I sit on the porch rocker watching steam pouring out of my shirt and big clouds rolling away when I breath, and cannot wait for the next normal day.
Actually, it’s blowing my mind – hit the 60’s up here today (Coastal Connecticut). Rode home tonight. In December. In shirtsleeves.
There’s another rider I see most evenings – always heading the other way, lit up like nobody’s business. Bundled up warmly. He’s a backpack, though, instead of a rack and panniers. Don’t think he’s got fenders, either, though. But it’s nice knowing there’s someone else out there, outside the cages.
The big kid is becoming kind of a pain in the rump.
Cross Country season is over, he’s noticed I’m a little portly, and he’s decided that there’s little better in the world than waking up at 0600 and going for a run. Especially if he can make his old man sweat.
In general, I jest – that he’s in middle school and still wants to hang with his old man is a sign that there’s something good going on between he and me. It’s also a chance for me to work out – the snooze button and the couch are my biggest foes, right after “The Daily Show” and having another beer after supper.
It’s also a challenge for me – there aren’t too many months left when I’m going to be faster than he is. If I keep heading out with him, there’s a chance I’ll hold him off for another couple weeks, at least. But, he’s already beaten Missy in a race; my time will come.
Last week, the bubble finally burst on the whole Lance Armstrong thing. I’d long since given up the idea that he’d raced clean, or that, in fact anyone had raced clean. Reading Tyler Hamilton’s “The Secret Race”, @Vaughters’ tweeting this summer, and the earlier USADA leaks had pretty much convinced me that cycling had been doped for most of the Postal/Disco run.
Reading some of the raw testimony, reading the statements of the confessed riders, and reading the continued denials from Armstrong himself were really kind of getting me down. On one hand, without a critical mass of cyclists confessing together, it’s really easy to keep the omerta going – reference Floyd Landis, Tyler Hamilton, and Bassons getting the cold shoulder from the entire cycling industry when they tried to shine a light (yes, after years of lying in the cases of Floyd and Tyler) on doping. So, giving out light punishment to lots of riders who confess at the same time has the effect of encouraging confessions.
On the other hand, think of a rider like Chris Horner – currently not implicated in any of the scandals – who spent the late 90s and the early 2000’s riding at the top of the US pro circuit, bringing in literally hundreds of dollars at races in office parks and beer primes, all because he chose to race clean. No podium girl wife for him, no villas in Girona, just a second shot at a EuroPro career once the peloton cleaned up.
The darkness was threatening to consume me – Armstrong’s story played a huge role in my becoming a cyclist.
Then, I got on my bike, and realized I had new yellow to ride for in the golden light of fall.
You always find joy in running. You should try it more often.