26 lengths, think I might’ve managed another couple but it was getting too crowded and uncomfortable with three of us in the lane.
I hate lane swimming!
Hi, Ruthio, I just checked in before my run to see how the swimming went. That is a very solid run for having been out of the pool for so long! It’s not the lane swimming that bothers me as much as having people there with me :-(. I guess I am the solitary sort when it comes to such endeavors, forever concerned that I am not inconveniencing someone. I suppose that’s why open ocean swimming is better…I’m not in anyone else’s way!
http://www.sherv.net/cm/emoticons/olympics/swimming-smiley-emoticon.gif
Impressive stuff Ruthio, well done…
After going to bed with a thunderstorm taken right out Dante’s Inferno, I awoke to the sound of starlings making their first appearance of the winter season. Getting motivated to run is easy when I consider the scale of distances that migratory butterflies and birds make this time of year.
While I did a bit of pre-run stretching, squadrons of migratory birds were arriving overhead on the cold front, noisily announcing the end of summer. Across the grassy marshes they flew, downriver, where the estuarial soup provides their sustenance The local brown pelicans were joining them, making for a celebratory din of hunger, com and celebration, not unlike a busy airport.
With a scene like that, why would I want to go to the sportsplex only to run the dry streets and track? There was a better place, a secret one, but it would mean a short drive and soggy path. Even so, damp shoes seemed like an inexpensive price of admission to check on the new arrivals. With a turn of the key, I was off to a rarely-visited spot where the birds seek shelter from the northerly winds and mother dolphins birth their calves in the mild spring.
Sure enough, there was not a person to be seen along the narrow footpath that winds along the old river. I took off making the first turn a half mile away where the high reeds stand like soldiers lining the trail, eventually giving way to a half-mile long boardwalk that crosses a briny tidal pond. Late in the day when the tide is high, the pond will disappear altogether revealing the adaptive mussels and seagrass that are usually hidden beneath it’s murky cloak.
One mile became two, and two quickly tripled to but alas, I have no record-breaking reports like OGF. Legs finally wearing down, and having done my informal census of egrets and terns, cormorants and gulls, starlings and sanderlings, I was ready to leave the flocks to their breakfasting. Days of my childhood came flooding back, to mornings in which when we would dress quickly and race out the front door to explore the nearby woods and creeks. Climbing trees, poking sticks along muddy shorelines, and exploring the hollows of fallen trees were sources of endless curiosity and fun.
How fabulous that this morning run triggered memories of all those carefree Saturdays! I think I need to spend more time looking beneath rocks…;-).
Enjoyable
What an enjoyable read Surfermom. A nice way to start the day. I agree, I think we all should take time to look beneath rocks and see what we can find and/or remember! Have a lovely weekend all.
A brilliant description of your run Surfermom, I was almost with you on every step.
I say almost, because after a late night watching a perfectly acceptable tribute band to Franki Valli and the Four Seasons I set my alarm for six this morning. I was awake before it buzzed a good morning, as I usually am, and presented myself out into the cool crisp Autumn morning. Leaves crackled beneath my feet as I shuffled along, what seemed like a mile long drive from this majestic old stately home, to reach the main’ish road. Squirrells balanced upon fence posts only to disappear into the nearest undergrowth at the sound of my passing.
After a mile or so I turned onto a small country road and was alone with my thoughts and the sounds of nature. I disturbed some resting Partridges nestled in the grass at the roadside, I think we both almost had an anal shock. The road climbed steadily upwards and as the sky lightened over the North Yorkshire Moors with Red Kites circling overhead, It became clear why I interrupt an early morning lie in for a seven mile expedition out on the road…
“Oh what a night…” how fun for you and Mrs. Fox. I hope they sang “My Eyes Adored You” and “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You”. Yours was a noble early start too after a long evening, OGF., but I am not surprised.
Beautifully described run, always pleasurable to jog alongside through your prose. I always imagine it as cool, dewy (if not rainy), and getting brighter as you go. Your encounter with the partridges reminded me of this:
Thank you! I hope your workouts are going well Nevada way!
I decided that after 15 years or wearing technical running shoes, and orthotics, and specifically padded running socks - all of which were the result off a bout of plantars fascitis - I was going to give barefoot running a go.
Today’s route was across a wide beach where the sand is like sugar. While most white sand in the world is made out of coral, the sand here is almost 99% quartzite, eroded from the Appalachian mountains and deposited down river along the Gulf Coast over millions of years.
It felt fantastic, like being a kid again, splashing along the water line for a good five miles, but tonight I’m not so sure it was a good idea.:-D. Back to the all the tech gear tomorrow. I sure am old :roll:!
I am a much happier man now I have been able to resume exercise after my heart attack which occurred 5 weeks ago. 
I was checked at the hospital, mid-workout, and my blood pressure and pulse rate were right where they should be, yay! I did an hour of cardio as well as walking the mile to and from the hospital, so all in all I am very pleased.
I am going to resume workouts at the gym I go to, although I won’t be doing what I would normally be doing. I’ll inform them of the heart attack and let them structure an exercise plan around that so I don’t do anything silly. Next on the agenda, back to work…
Congratulations, Tachycon, it must feel incredibly good to have control of your life again by being able to do your workouts. How different post heart attack treatment is these days that they want you up and moving as soon as possible, but it is a muscle after all!
enjoyed reading that,thanks
Thanks very much, Surfermom. 
On the basis of how well last week went, I actually returned to my regular gym this afternoon! I updated them on recent events, told them what meds I am on for the dodgy ticker (only 3 tablets) and also told them that they put me on Insulin for the first time, a day after the heart attack. I told them I’d be careful with sugar levels and only exert myself sensibly and they gave me the go-ahead.
It was great being back on the machines after sitting around for 6 weeks! I look forward to going again.
It sounds like you have a very well-staffed gym. Slow and steady wins the race, but I bet that first trip to the gym was a huge personal victory.
While most of my week on the Kansas prairie was spent helping my parents in the gardens, visiting old friends, and catching up with my sister and her family, I was able to slip in a few runs. When I was in college, and more interested in fashion that function, my ears were frostbitten making my way across a fiercly cold university campus. Since then, even temperatures in the fifties can make my ears ache. No matter, I was able to ignore the pain long enough to push through six miles on each outing. Each day I would set out in a different direction. One took me past wheat and barley fields, another took me to the wind farm, a third wound me past dairy farms dotted with clear blue ponds, and the final through the lovely old town that had been built on the cattle drive routes north and south, and the railroad east and west. Cowboys, farmers, and railroad workers settled this land.
While I was a bit stiff in the cold, I could usually loosen up after a mile and pick up speed. I never feel like I run as well on vacation, but the numbers disagree. My pace is fairly good, and I am still on track to make my distance goal for the year - I just hope I can do it before Christmas. Last year, I had to finish the year out on a slick and snowy day, so I’m planning ahead and pushing now 
. Are you still on track to make your goal, OGF?
Welcome to my world of brisk Autumn weather Surfermom.
Piles of leaves everywhere sometimes hiding obstacles that are best avoided, but yesterday morning was clear cold and not quite sunny. Seven a.m. and the sun was late doing his rounds, I however was raring to go. The first couple of miles through the village and out into the country were quite painless, although slow, but allowing my mind to wander into a world of thought and reflection. Considering the things that happened yesterday, and planning things that would happen today.
I was brought back to the present when a started Pheasant clucked indignantly as he quickly put a ploughed field between him and me. I became aware of a tightness in my lower back muscles that became the attention of my thoughts for the next few miles. Saturday spend crouching in the loft moving pipes and laying floor I suspected was the reason. At least, I hoped it was.
At six miles the sun appeared above the horizon temporarily blinding me and making me unable to see where my feet were landing, although I’m running on the road, there still lurks potholes and uneven surfaces. I was glad of the shelter of a large brick barn and some high hedges until I changed direction at the end of the lane. Every now and then the road would become invisible as flashes of light burst through the occasional bush now relieved of all of it’s leaves, but as I turned for home it became less of a nuisance.
My lower back muscles were becoming more of a nuisance though as I tried to increase the pace over the last mile or two into the village, the power of acceleration comes mainly from the buttocks and lower back muscles that were failing by the yard and it was a struggle to maintain my pace and I feared that I would have to accept a slower than normal time for this mornings run. So I was surprised to find that despite adversity the effort still ranked amongst the top five runs of this year.
Still on track to exceed one thousand miles for this year Surfermom if I can just loosen up these tight back muscles, trouble is, there is still some work to be done in the loft…That makes my years total 957 to date, next run on Tuesday…Note to self…‘I must learn to slow down’…
OGF, it is always such a treat to read your running entries and enjoy the nuances of each one! I recognize well the morning you described - harvest hues of damp leaves scattering the path ahead with flashes sunlight offering warmth along with the occasional blindness 
.
I am sure it is satisfying to accomplish projects around your house before winter sets in. Have you considered that our mutual habit of not stretching at or near the beginning of a run might be the culprit of your muscle pain? After an inexplicable round of lower back pain a few months back, I theorized it was both stretching and abdominal work that were missing. While I was good at adding the stomach exercises, I was admittedly not good about the stretching - and it took some time for me to recover a hundred percent. My problem is that I just can’t wait to get my feet moving in the morning…
Stretching or not, I suppose a hot shower, a decent back massage (cue Mrs. OGF ;-):-D), and getting that work behind you will go a long way in getting you back in tip-top condition and into those blinding, brilliant mornings.
Thanks for your comments Surfermom, an over fifties forum is not the place I would have expected to find kindred spirits with regard to running and exercise, but I have been overwhelmed by the amount of mature members who share our passion for fitness, quite extraordinary…
Looking back at my running journal reveals the same same injury recurring every few years or so (perhaps 8 - 10 occurrences in forty years) They always happen either at the beginning of winter or the end, getting caught out in the rain without a waterproof top would almost certainly result in a layoff. Also, wearing shorts throughout the winter is the top of most peoples lists when discussing the matter. Perhaps they are right, but running in flappy or lycra clad bottoms is not an option, and besides, there have been years when I have run in sub zero temperatures and snow and not suffered so much as a cold.
From my recent kneeling and bending I suspect that weak back muscles are to blame and I agree with you that perhaps an exercise to strengthen my lower back muscles would be beneficial, but which exercise to do? Whereas a correct one would certainly help, but an incorrect one would hinder.
Which brings me to yesterday’s early morning eight mile adventure…
It turned out to be most enjoyable in very mild and windless conditions, the lower back muscles did object but I managed to run through the ache which receded as the run progressed. Hopefully, it’s just some stiffness from lazy muscles that don’t get that much work since I retired, so I shall definitely seek out some apropriate exercises and try and strengthen them up. Thanks for your advice Surfermom and may the wind stay at your back…
The sun is leaning low in these late Florida afternoons inspiring a faster pace on a long spit on this long barrier island. High pressures bring sea breezes that ripple sand and bend sea oats, rolling the land an inch at a time landward and challenging the runner with every step. The road runs through the center of the island, offering spectacular views of the gulf to the south and the intracoastal waterway with its shrimp and sail boats to the north. Complaining muscles and legs growing heavy after four miles were easy to ignore with this beautiful distraction. By the end of the run, I had managed a solid seven.
OGF, I think some exercise of the non-running sort might do you well. I make it as simple as abs and back work on a sports mat when watching movies or television. As for gear, we all have preferences that border on obsession - or eccentricity 
. For me, loose shorts, t-shirts, loose hair or anything moving about is intolerable (no chaffing here :-D). By December I will switch from shorts to high compression leggings (with seams that wrap and support hips, knees, and lower back), layers of fitted tops, and my hair tied back. Function over form, I suppose.
The design of these tights are similar to the type I wear, except these are the men’s version. I know, I know…they aren’t for everyone ;-).
I too am a huge fan of forum members who are out there working out however they choose, despite the challenges that come with advancing age. I am extremely grateful for the suggestions and perspectives I have found here in just a few short months…and it keeps me coming back for more!
I don’t know about any other runners but unless you are nursing an injury it’s always difficult to assess how the run is going to turn out in the first mile or so. After having a few problems recently with tight lower back muscles I was trying to evaluate if they were going to be troublesome again today. It was ‘so far so good’ as I passed by the little butchers shop at the end of the road, he usually waves as I jog past, but it’s all in darkness this morning because I’ve got plenty to do today so set off earlier than usual.
It’s still quite dark but light enough to see the road beneath my feet as I leave the street lighting behind and enter the countryside. A two mile stretch of gently meandering country road now and manage to arrive at the next small hamlet before I encounter any vehicles. The lady at the wheel waves as she passes by, one of my regular drivers on her way to work, my mind invents jobs for her while it’s in vacant mode, I haven’t a clue really but something to focus on while the miles go by.
I run across two bridges, first a canal bridge and then the river bridge. I peer down into the murky waters and try to see which way it’s flowing, it’s still tidal here even though we are over fifty miles inland. A Heron sits patiently on the bank waiting for his breakfast to swim along, and hardly notices me as I pass quietly over the bridge. The church clock can now be seen through trees that are rapidly losing their summer attire, ten minutes past seven, I’m making good time, feeling good, and not a hint of the muscle tightness. The rooks croak encouragement from the churchyard.
I round a bend and am faced with a pair of red flashing lights and red and white barriers, Exon Princess, a mighty tanker delivering cooking oil to Sheffield, and has beaten me to the lift bridge over the canal and gently eases through. Nothing for it but to stop the watch, lean on the barrier and have a natter with the bridge operator for what seemed like five minutes. I start the watch and jostle for position on the bridge with the tailback of traffic that has accumulated, but I am faster off the mark and leave them behind.
I have now turned off onto quieter roads, and I must quicken my pace if I am to beat the Princess to the next bridge, the bloke in the van who opens the bridges has already passed me and now we both try to reach the next bridge before the Princess. But all is not well as two snarling dogs race through the open gate of the only farm for miles around and try to position themselves behind me, adrenaline pumps through my veins and hairs rise on the back of my neck and I turn to face them.
In my loudest and fiercest voice I shout a warning and move towards them, they back off, but still growling and baring of teeth they reluctantly move away, I take the opportunity to return to jogging but never let them out of sight, as the distance between us increases they lose interest and bound back into the farmyard.
The encounter seriously hindered my pace, and I now proceed slowly and clumsily as what if’s bombard my thoughts. It takes over a mile before I have calmed down and returned to a somewhat decent pace. I’m suddenly aware of the deep pulsating engines of the Princess, canals go in straight lines, but the road I travel on twists and turns, I must get my finger out if I’m to stand any chance of beating her to the next bridge, but I fear all is lost.
The last two hundred metres before the bridge and I spot the operators van at the side of the road, the sound of the engines grow louder as he throws the van door open and steps out, it’s slightly uphill, and I sprint for all I’m worth, blood pumps urgently around my body, and with aching lungs gasping for breath and eyes bulging I make a run for it. He stops for a moment as he crosses the road and beckons me on, with legs turning to jelly I lunge for the flat tarmac surface of the bridge and with my last breath I mouth a thank you and reach the other side before the barrier comes crashing down…
With three miles still to go I somehow manage to stay on my feet and maintain some sort of wobbly pace but with less than a mile to go the railway level crossing closes and a freight train thunders through. Apart from being incapable of beating the train and not wishing to be tomorrows headline I relax my pace, but the crossing is open anyway before I reach it. So what was supposed to be a nice relaxed jog in the country turned out to be something quite special. Loved the forced speedwork but hated the dogs.
That entry in your running journal was sensational! It really lifted my spirits and I learned something too - that the tidal effects reach that far inland and that the rivers are navigable for even tankers of some size. How lovely it must be to run such a varied and interesting landscape.
Holiday time is approaching with Thanksgiving coming next week and a steady flow of snowbirds, seasonal (mostly retired) visitors who fill the beach condominiums and roadways. With them come a few more road hazards. Two years ago I was hit with the mirror of an older lady who misjudged the width of her car. As a magnet to funny disasters, I have to accept that these things happen from time to time.
Although it was pickup truck day on the beach road, I had seven unscathed mile. Most trucks that passed were owned by fishermen who gather on Thursday and Friday in hopes of selling their catch to local restaurants before taking home the rest. They go zooming and rumbling by, but I pay little notice as I am happy to be seeing the world by foot with no windshield glass between the blue sky and me. Where the fishermen go, so do the herons, so I also had a disinterested bird or two barely notice me as I ran past. While OGF had some forced speed work, I am intentionally adding my own as the temperatures drop. Not only does it ward off the chill, speed training will hopefully help me prepare for one of the few races I run every year.
Eventually, I left the trucks, tourists, and fishermen behind, making the wide arcing turn that opens up to an isolated portion of the beach where a lone osprey circled keen-eyed overhead and the tip-toeing sanderlings followed as my only company in my hurried race against the incoming tide.
It is November; the skies are blue, and the sun shines warm on my skin. As difficult as they sometimes are, I am grateful for each step and to have prevailed another day.