Today ends the first week of my formal training for the Bayshore Marathon in Traverse City on Memorial Day weekend. My schedule calls for running five days a week. Three are short (35 to 45 minutes) and two are longer. This week’s long runs were 70 minutes on Wednesday and 105 minutes today and I’m tired, or as the rednecks say down here “Ahm tard”. I’m used to running three days a week since the race in September, and it’s quite a shift in the energy drain. Studies show that geezers (that’s the medical term for what we refer to as “age challenged”) need more recovery time than younger people (let your mind wander on this one).
It’s interesting that when we run with our friends in Michigan, I know I’m the one of the oldest (Pat’s much older than I am) and, as a result, I’m not expected to finish the long run until well after the youngsters are done and have eaten most of the food at the Sunday brunch. Down here, we’re considered the youngsters, and most of the people just shake their heads and think we’re nuts, which we are.
This morning I had an age challenged gentleman, who was shuffling out to the street to pick up his morning paper at 10:30 AM in pajama bottoms that were as old as I am, tell me I should be carrying weights in my hands instead of my water bottle. I was100 minutes into my 105 minute run, and my water bottle, which was empty, felt like it weighed 10 pounds. I usually come up with some cocky, snide remark like “Come out and run with me and tell me what I’m doing wrong”, but I was too tired even for that.
Most of you know I’m an animal lover. Not just dogs, and I do tolerate cats, but I marvel at the different things I see on my runs (and road kill on the bike rides). Today it was the wild parrots that have a raucous squawk, but are fascinating to watch, and are a pretty green color. On my Wednesday 70 minute run, a big gentleman (yes, bigger than me and he was age challenged) was walking two little dogs, the kind I refer to as “ankle biters”. The dogs were on leashes but as I ran by, unlike everyone else, he let one dog get too close and I was almost nipped. He thought it was quite funny. I didn’t. They might have been his little “children”, but to me they were a couple of furry rats with a somewhat dimwitted owner.
Contrary to my personality shortly after the bike accident at IM Wisconsin, I kept my thoughts to myself. When I ran by him a few minutes later he said something and laughed and I didn’t say a word. So, Bill, Diane, Becky and Jean, unlike the young man at Panama City Beach, I didn’t call him an a$%^#le. I must be getting better.
I’ll be back in Michigan on Thursday this week for some hospital meetings and will fly back down here on Tuesday, the 22nd. My plane gets in at 1:30 PM and I’m still trying to make arrangements to get from the airport to Green Street. It’s not like down here where they have shuttles that take people to all the coastal cities from the Tampa airport. So my e-mail next week may be from the cottage, if I can get in the driveway and get the heat cranked up. If not, I may be off the air until the 27th.
By the way, that’s the date of The Great Escape Triathlon (olympic length) at Clermont, so if any of you are flying down to do that, let us know.
‘Til Later,
Just (Oh My Aching Body) Jack