Bills' Bad Ass 50K Event Report
Assorted Dum-Dums

The week preceding Bills' Bad Ass 50K I was a psycho, menopausal, insomniac bitch from hell. I had the biggest mental breakdown since I was separated some 15 months ago. The end is near--the agreement filed and the final hearing set for Ground Hogs Day. It's as though I've seen my shadow and retreated to my burrow, shivering and fearful for the unknown storms ahead in my new life.

My training runs have been lackluster, usually walking the last miles of whatever distance I set out to do. What I really liked about Bills' Bad Ass is that besides being a free event, it totally takes all pressure off. My hope was to do as many loops of the muddy 5 mile Perkins Trail, run myself silly, and purge fears and insecurity that have gripped my soul. The course was designed as 6 loops of Perkins Trail with the extra mile a sadistic climb up the side of a side of a small mountain embedded with 150 steps to retrieve a Dum-Dum in a bucket. Once we claimed the Dum-Dum we could run back to the van, record our finishing time, and get the Bills' Bad Ass tech shirt--a very cool shirt designed by the speedy Mark Godale with Bills' Bad Ass written across as if to represent the soil line and underneath, penetrating the soil, a labyrinth of roots snaking downward. It's the coolest thing. Never one too impressed with shirts, this one caught my eye.

The night before the event, my daughter and I went out nail polish shopping for my niece's fall wedding. I bought a shade called "bronze," but it was more like the undersides of fallen dried leaves on a frosty fall morning, so I painted my nails and laid out my lucky short short Nike shorts and in the morning shot up shot up a heart-felt prayer for perseverance and mental cleansing. I had no intentions of actually finishing the 50K.

The weather was unbelievable on race morning: sunny with mid to upper 60's for later in the day. The preceding week had been dry, so unbelievably, Perkins Trail was almost completely dry except for a stiff muddy section at the base of the first hill. Bob couldn't start his truck, likely due to a battery problem, so I picked him up and headed out to the covered bridge on Everett where a growing group of runners gathered around Chef Bill's white van messing with their coolers, and rubbing their arms in the cool morning air. I was surprised at the amount of water, Gatorade, and food that the Bills were providing. The sun was bright and each minute that passed, it radiated just a tad warmer promising a very beautiful day for this event.

I thought it very appropriate that us bunch of assorted Dum-Dums would finish 31 miles by climbing up a mountain to retrieve a sucker. Matter of fact, this race reminded me of an assorted bag of Dum-Dums as each loop I ran had a distinct flavor for the people I ran with. My first loop I ran with Debi--she reminds me of a bubble gum flavored Dum-Dum because she is pink and wholesome and always so sweet. Debi was out to run only a few loops. I love her to death. The second loop, I ran by myself. I was averaging about 1:02 on the loops. I'd describe myself as a mystery Dum-Dum, because you just never know what you're going to get. I kept crossing paths with Bob just after the aid station; he was maybe 3-5 minutes ahead of me. He looked fabulous. For the third loop, I ran with D. Holzapple and a friend of his, Adam. Between the Holtzapple and the Adam, it appears we have a sour apple Dum-Dum, but Don reminds me of a big barrel of root beer, so Adam will get the sour apple flavor designation.

For my 4th loop, Maria took some time off her volunteering duties to run a loop with me. Maria is hands down, watermelon, as she's simply juicy and delicious. Life is never boring when Maria's around. Maria talked a little sense into me--helped me re-frame a few things. We talked about filters--you know, that mechanism that civilized people are supposed to engage before we go opening our mouths trailing raw powered emotional expletives that you'll later regret?

After the 4th loop, I had finally caught up to Bob at the aid station. He was standing next to Brett with his hands on his hips claiming that he's done. He's spent. I was shocked. This isn't Bob. He doesn't give up on a race--ever. Even Brett said, "Once you stop, it gets easier and easier to bail on a race." I told him I'd run with him the next loop. We'd take it easy, walk a bit, and give him time for the bad patch to go away, because they usually do--eventually. Besides--I drove and he'd be sitting around waiting for me. After doing 20 miles, I realized I wanted that Dum-Dum at the top of the hill and wanted that shirt. I wanted those cool Mark Godale roots snaking down my boobs.

We headed out for loop #5. Bob is clearly a cream soda Dum-Dum. He was lacking his usual fizz at this point, but I love cream soda Dum-Dums. I'd lick them totally flat. I hunt them down, fishing deep to the bottom of a mega bag of assorted pops, leaving a wake of other flavors falling to the floor for a lone cream soda on the bottom of the bag. I have to resist licking him, because even running 30 miles, Bob always smells yummy. He's the only man I know that doesn't succumb to the usual male runner rot on the trails. I'm convinced that since Bob is such a large cream soda Dum-Dum, it's a hydration or nutrition issue that causes this normally high fizzed runner to go flat at 17 miles. I know it perplexes and slightly annoys him that while I slog through most of my training runs, I have a real knack for pulling race day magic out of my ass. I thought the race day magic wouldn't work this time since I didn't actually pay for this race and I've eaten and slept badly the whole preceding week. I was amazed I was feeling as well as I was--truly a prayer answered for me. Running saves me time and time again. Running clears the negative reels that run through my head, replacing them with hope. Bob and I finished the event--we slogged up those 150 steps embedded in the mountain to the bucket of treasure at the end of the rainbow. I fished out my favorite, of course, a cream soda and then we descended the steps back to Bill's van. Wild Bill handed me my shirt--a small, when a medium would have been ideal, but he was out, but the snugness gave the roots a little extra sexy curve. I loved it. This was the most fabulous day for me. God, I needed this.

Running Roundup

On my 45th birthday a wretched cold virus attacked, spackling my gnarly sinuses with an impenetrable layer of phlegm for which nothing would effectively thin except for Sudafed and running. Thank goodness for running. I haven't felt much like running, but the promise of bilateral even nostril air flow was enough to get me out the door during the week.

I'm supposed to be training for Wild Bills' Bad Ass 50K next weekend. I despise Perkins trail, as probably 75% of trail runners do--the featured trail that makes this run so "bad-ass". It's a five mile hellish, but pretty, bridle loop trail of mud and muck. I ran it a few weeks ago a group of runners along which were the sadistic creators of this event--Wild Bill and Chef Bill Bailey. On this particular day, it was raining, cold, and understandably muddy, but take note--this trail NEVER dries out. I've run it a few times in the summer and it was almost as bad. There was one section where I took a step and my right foot sunk up to my freakin' knees. I had barely enough strength to pull myself out. For a mere second, I thought I was being pulled down into hell, but, last second, spit back up to earth since running this trail is more punishment. Bob, Debi, and I ran one loop of this sadistic muddy rat wheel, later defecting to the higher, drier trail running bliss of Oakhill trail head just up the road.

My hope is to go as far as I can on Wild Bills' Bad-Ass. It's a free event, so I don't have cold hard cash invested, but I'll use it as an opportunity to be with my running friends and train for the upcoming Run for Regis 50K in January, the former Buckeye Winter K which has moved to a new location due to parking and other issues. Bob initiated a familiarization training run for the Regis run sending out an e-mail to a few running friends. The new course encompasses the gorgeous trails near and around Kendall Lake in the CVNRA. I have run every one of these trails at one time or another, but get hopelessly confused on how they connect. Bob printed out a list of text directions for running the 5 and 8 mile looped course off the race website. I was poking a little fun at my good Boy Scout running buddy Bob, cause how the heck are a couple of middle aged trail runners with bad eyes supposed to run along holding a list of text directions, without tripping and killing ourselves? At the very least, we're going to miss something. We will be so lost, but what the heck--it was going to be a gorgeous day--no rain, no muck and temps rising eventually to the 60's. You just have to go with the flow, right?

Bob is a lucky boy, cause as we were standing around in the Lake Trailhead parking lot, along with Debi, Patti, and Chef Bill, and in comes Tanya Cady--the race director of the race. Well, shoot--we'll run with her!! She was out to survey the course, put up a few markers, and get herself more familiar with potential problems for this course. Not a mile into the run, Tanya wrenched her left ankle pretty good. She had to stop for a few minutes, but once the shock of pain dissipates, these hard core trail runners just keep going. They'll deal with the swelling later.

Also, interesting is how you can start out with a small group of trail runners, but then strays start appearing out of the forest, as though they picked up the scent of the main pack and joined along. Roy H., trail running legend, appeared out of nowhere. He's getting ready to retire, and undoubtedly, be running even more than he does now. He was quoted recently on the last page of the New York Times Lifestyle section regarding his lack of toenails. Some runners have major issues with losing toe nails, so after awhile, it just makes sense to get rid of them. Roy said his left big toe looks like a bald headed little man. Debi has problems with this too, but doubt she wants her toes in summer to look like a row of bald-headed men. I mentioned to Roy that I don't have that problem, that it must be something about prone toe nail losers and their gait or footstrike. He said that I probably just don't run enough.

After the first 5 mile loop, we convened back at the shelter and picked up a new group that just showed up among which were some very fast young trail wolves, like Janet and E-speed, and Nathan--a young fast good looking redhead that sidled up on the trails and introduced himself. He reads my blog!! For the life of me, I don't understand why anyone in his age category would read through the middle aged blathering of an untalented, slow, mental health runner, but I was touched, nonetheless. E-speed has been reading my new frugal living blog. I got a great new tip from E-speed on a cheap way to keep our running tech clothes from retaining permanent unfeminine truck driver like odors without spending a fortune on specially formulated "washes". A cup of vinegar added to the wash should cut through the embedded stink just fine. I'll have to give it a whirl!

Eventually, as the miles added on, the slow wolves, like myself and Debi fell toward the back and ended up running sections of the hilly Salt Run trail without seeing a soul. Ironically, we passed Judge Quinn who just this last week ended Bob's married purgatory. Funny, how he didn't look like a judge, someone to defer to, out on the trails; he looked like a rough around the edges nature lover. Maybe he'll be the judge that ends my married purgatory in February. Tanya was holding back, too, no intentions to run fast today, but to survey every step of her new course. Maybe her ankle was still bothering her. Debi and I got some great ideas from Tanya on how to infuse some life back into our withering running club. She said her running club was showing signs of dying, and shared her revitalization plan. She had some great ideas which Debi and I would like to take back to the board and try to implement in some way.

Gosh, what a beautiful day, but my legs were very heavy and my energy level very low. My running has really fallen into a slump, but I'm grateful I'm still running. It's been my ultimate lifeline along with some very good friends and knowing that I'm part of such a fantastic community of runners. Emotionally, I've been going through some hard times. Lately, I'm like the Gulf of Mexico during hurricane season. One day I'm cool, placid and peaceful, but the next, I'm a stormy mess. I'm really doing quite well on my own, but as my divorce draws near, I'm letting fear of the unknown take root. When people ask me how I am, I answer only for today because I don't know what tomorrow's going to bring. So, here's to today!!

Mohican Madness Breaks Sensible Running Vacation

Bob and I met Melissa and Ben down by the covered bridge at Mohican State Park. Bob, like a good boy scout had printed out a bunch of trail maps of the area and I had Kim's e-mail printed out on various running options. Bob grew up near here in Loudonville; he's done some hunting and hiking, but never run these parts. Now Melissa would be into anything since she's one of those 100 miler types, but Ben--her ex-hubby, was more of a sensible runner, so we tried to figure out some small palatable loops.

I haven't done a long run in ages, but figured I could handle around 15. The relentless rain from yesterday had finally stopped, was still overcast, but didn't detract from the fall splendor. I think this has been a beautiful fall all around--this weekend was definitely the peak, yellows and reds twirled to the ground on a gentle breeze--cool, but comfortable. I opted for long running tights today with long sleeves. Bob was showing off his nice legs. We did a short jaunt up the hiking trail to Lyons Falls and then continued to the lake and massive scary spillway. We heard about another trail that continued up to the lodge, but couldn't find it, so we ran back along the river to the covered bridge. Bob had all kinds of fuel, so we scarfed before heading out for more, running this time along the Hemlock Trail along the river and past the primitive camping sites. A number of campers seemed surprised to see runners. They were jovial sorts, hooting and hollering, while their bacon sizzled and asked us how far we were going. I thought tons of people ran out here, but honestly, we didn't see a single other runner the entire time we were out there. I was soon to find out why.

So, far the trail running was nice and easy. Once we got to the second main camping area with the cabins and full hookups, we parted ways with Melissa and Ben. Kim suggested the mountain biking trail for a good trail run. It was 12 miles long, and judging from the contour map that showed tight rugged switch-backs and high elevations, this was going to be a bitch of a run, but I was feeling high from our sensible 6 mile warm up with good company, so when Bob suggested this, I thought, "What the heck...let's do it!" We did have Bill's Bad Ass right around the corner, so better ramp up the miles. Stupid mistake number one--we didn't refill our water bottles before embarking on 12 miles of switchbacks on the freaking side of a mountain. Since I'm a hybrid runner that does trails and roads equally, sometimes my slow, dim-witted middle aged brain has a hard time converting back to "trail time." Well...it only takes a few hours to run 12 miles (of roads), so this won't be any big deal. I forgot that 12 miles of trail running up the side of a mountain might take a little more time, oh, but I was lured by that handsome Bob and all the pretty leaves...

Bob and I are considering running the 50 mile option at Mohican, but we might go back to the bargaining table on that one. I wasn't sure what a mountain biking trail would be like--Bob and I imagined something wider, for one, and not so mountainous, but that's silly, of course, since mountain biking denotes mountains. This was so different from the Buckeye Trail, which consists of crazy steep, but short hills that you walk mostly, coast the flats, and gently run the downs. This trail was just continually up--there were very few times where it was so steep you had to walk, but it seemed like we were forever going up, which was confirmed when I saw clouds at the same level as us far off in the distance. This trail was so stunningly beautiful, I couldn't begin to describe it. Already, just a few miles into the 12 mile section, I had an odd mix of feelings brewing. I was so loving being out here on such an exquisite day, but I felt my body and my fuel were deficient for such an undertaking, so I mentally fretted. We passed a small group of mountain bikers. They looked at us like we were crazy and we looked at them the same. No freaking way would I ride a bike along these single track track trails, the mountain on one side and then a bottomless precipice on the other, ready to plummet you to certain death with one wrong move.

After this little group of bikers, we didn't see a single solitary soul for the next hour and a half. We didn't see deer, we didn't see anything but all these amazing leaves and indescribable vistas. I had to pee like crazy. I'm not very adept at peeing outdoors; I would much rather wait for a bathroom, but my bladder was screaming. I made Bob head up the trails a ways to wait for me. I found a big tree. I dropped my drawers and affected a wide squat to not pee on my pants. Then--I heard something. I looked behind me and saw a large swath of brilliant red color, too big to be leaves, when I noticed a helmet, and a wheel of bike and his cyclist hovered above, stopped on the trail watching my luminous white ass. The red was the fleece of cyclist. I screamed and jumped up like I was shot.

"I was going to wait for you to finish," said my mountain biking voyeur.

"You were just going to stand there and watch me pee?" I said totally mortified. He was mortified. As he passed me I told him not to look at me, I was so embarrassed. As he biked by he told me his mom and sister pee outside too. OMG!! Does he watch them too? I couldn't believe my bad timing out here in the middle of Mohican State Forest and the minute I drop my drawers, I've got company. These cyclists just appear out of nowhere!! Bob told me to look on the bright side since I probably gave him a little boost to get through the rest of his ride, but it didn't do a thing for me.

By mile 15 of this arduously awful but beautiful run, we ran out of water. I didn't eat a big breakfast, was way past lunch now, and was getting fast sick of the Swedish Fish (poor man's Shot Blox). I hadn't done a long run in so long and now I was really paying for it. By mile 16, I had to start adding in a lot of walking. Bob was holding up great and pretty much lead the way the whole time. He's been running very strong lately. By mile 18, I had an obnoxious headache, lead legs, and visions of double cheese burgers. The run had turned into a hike by this point, but that was O.K, and then finally, back to the Covered Bridge. What a wonderful, wonderful run!! It was hard as heck--I was totally unprepared for it and a strange man saw my entire bare ass, but it was so amazingly beautiful (the run, not my ass). Thanks Bob for such a great day, and for Melissa and Ben coming out to share part of it too!! My sensible running vacation has ended and it's time to go to work!!

Sensible Runner for a Month

No, I'm not going to give up the running blog, but October has traditionally been a "sensible" running month, and we all know nothing is more boring than sensible running. I like to take a break after the Road Runner and enjoy the fall running splendor on a sensible running basis without the negative effects of long distance running before I start racking up the mileage for Winter trail running, which I reluctantly submit to keep me from going bonkers. I'm trying to heal up that nagging hip flexor issue, too, that reared its ugly head at the Road Runner, and comes and goes as it pleases no matter what I do, never bothering too much while I'm running, but stabbing me in the groin every time I stand up from my perch in the work cave. Today it's fine, but who knows tomorrow.

I've enjoyed my writing in my personal finance blog; I feel a little bit like a shy kid in a new neighborhood of blogger big fish. My blog roll is chalk full of high traffic popular finance blog writers. Gosh, I've learned a ton from them, but so far--I'm lurking on their blogs and not commenting. I feel like a voyeur. It's kind of cool..

I'm thrilled to death to have two totally different blogs because--for one--it keeps me out of trouble. My head is a bad neighborhood these days, so the more I'm absorbed in the act of writing, the better. Writing is one of the few activities that I find exceedingly difficult, but drawn to anyway. I can't say that about too many other things in my life, which upon the faintest hint that it's going to be difficult, demand too much of my time, or be emotionally wrenching--I'm outta there. Not so with writing. I'm not even that good at it, but drawn to it anyway, like moths to light. I'm thrilled to have two totally topics to keep me busy.

I hope to have more interesting running blogs on the horizon when I return from my running vacation. Bob and I are heading to Mohican State Park on Saturday to check out the lay of the land for our first attempt at the 50 mile distance at next year's Mohican 100 in June.

I started my new personal finance and thrift blog. I'd love for my runner friends to check it out, but this blog will most likely attract a different audience. I had a had a hard time coming up with a name for it--my buddy Inca Princess suggested, "Red's Tight-Assed Little Life," which I thought was excellent, but in the long run, not prudent. I've always been a thrifty sort, but now, on the cusp of divorce, it's mandatory. My new blog is timely, now that the American mindset, steeped in a gripping recession, is thinking more about finance and thrift. There's so much to talk about, I hardly know where to begin...

On the running front, my hip flexors are acting up again. I did 13 mile trail run with Bob yesterday and riled them up real good.


http://redscheapspot.blogspot.com/

New Blog Idea

I'm thinking about starting a new blog--a personal finance blog to help me learn some new tricks. I've been reading from a list of the top 100 finance blogs and I must say, some of them are pretty darned dry, so I'd like to start my own Sensationally Red savvy blog to add a little spice to the mix. I few of my favorites that I perused were Bitter Wallet, Stop Buying So Much Crap, and Poorer Than You. These were very edgy and didn't take an overly consumerist focus. I'm not giving up the running blog, but it's time to move on to a new obsession. I've completely assimilated running into my life--I don't worry that I'll stop running. I started blogging, initially, to keep me motivated and help me learn things as I figured out the mysteries to becoming a life long runner. I've also been a life long tight wad--I'm genetically wired for cheapness, it's steeped in my bones, just like my running, but since I'm sitting at the cusp of ending a 21 year marriage, I figure I need to step up my game a bit, hunker down, for single living and learn to live richly on a meager salary. I know I have had the longest, most drawn out, amicable divorce in the history of mankind. We did that for several reasons, but one of them was financial--I've been paying as I go.
It'll be wrapped up in February.

I am a person that believes that it doesn't matter how much money you make, it's the money that you don't spend, or save, that ultimately matters. I believe that richness is a state of mind that comes from healthy, simplistic living, good relationships, and a de-emphasis on the materialistic. There are as many types of savers as there are spenders. I don't live like a snake, squirreling away my money under a rock with the intention of, years later, waking up rich and ready to live like a queen. We've all heard about the millionaire next door stories--the latest I heard was some Italian immigrant that never made more than $10 an hour, recently died with millions. He had no intention of changing his lifestyle once he got to a certain age or accumulated a certain amount of wealth. His lifestyle was ingrained, he made a habit of living on less than he earned, he invested, and died leaving a million to charity. Hard to believe that he managed to live on just $10 an hour, but I don't think he had children--the ultimate money suckers.

I save money mostly as security--to be able to handle what life throws at me. I try to not want many things, but if I really want something, I've got the money for it. I have a weakness for technology; I'm more likely to covet your Smart Phone or your Blackberry than your clothes or furniture. I value travel, good food and friends more than I do a wide screen T.V., favoring "experiential" spending to hard core materialistic spending, which means I'm more likely favor a special night out with a friend than buying new duds. I figure, on my death bed, in the last moments of my life, I'm going to think of the people in my life and the things I did with them, rather than my stuff. Yet we have to have some stuff, so balance is crucial. Money is meant to be spent--wisely. We all know how fast money can slip through our fingers, yet, you know the same concept works in the opposite positive accruing direction as well; small amounts can add up over time. My soon to be ex could not get this simple concept through his head, so for years and years, my efforts to save were like struggling sickly salmon swimming upstream to spawn. Well...the eggs have hatched. Hallelujah!

Many personal finance bloggers attack thrift from an overly consumerist angle. You've all heard of the moms that spend hours on end, reviewing circulars, clipping coupons and driving all over the county bargain shopping. This is all fine and good, but often these misguided bargain hunters end up avalanched with a household of crap they don't need, so now they are devoting time to organizing their crap that they got fabulous prices on! My philosophy is to not buy the crap in the first place, yet this is difficult to do, brainwashed Americans that we are. When I moved into my apartment; I looked at all my books stuffed in a small two shelf bookcase and thought, "I need a bigger bookcase to fit all my books!" So, while looking on Overstock.com and Craigslist for something adequate and affordable, I had an ephiphany. Why don't I just get rid of the books I don't want to keep and stick with the small shelf? There are some that I treasure and will keep forever, but most of the excess were running books I bought at the height of my running obsession and wouldn't likely call upon again. I called a used book dealer. He gave me $10 to take them off my back. I knew he was going to turn around and sell them on E-Bay, but I didn't want the hassle. I felt lighter. I keep my life physically uncluttered so that my ADHD mind can focus.

Clutter-hounds and spend-thrifts drive me nut. I was married to one for 21 years. I just saw today, a piece on MSN.com about the fatal attraction of these opposites in marriage. Most people claim their ideal mate is someone with similar money management philosophies, yet they end up marrying the opposite and after 20 years of money marital strife, head to divorce court. There were a few times when our different money philosophies balanced out, where he got me to relax a bit about money, but overall--he made me nuts. It was a constant fight and now, free to manage my own meager stash, I'm as happy as a poor clam. As they say, couples either fight about money or sex.

So, my personal finance blog will incorporate my core values for health, simplicity, non-materialism, and oh yeah...lots of spiciness. The best things in life, you know, are free. Now that we're steeped in recession, more people are less likely to think personal finance bloggers are freaks. Any ideas for a blog name?

Back to the Track

A few weeks ago, I tried to recall the last time I ran faster than a 9:30 pace mile. I couldn't do it; it's been over a year since I last ran a race under 26.2 miles. I cut short races from my diet when I separated from my soon to be ex--crawled under a rock, essentially, cutting all but the most basic expenses to cope with living on part-time income. In all honesty, I don't know how I've done it, but I'm slowly paying for my divorce, paying down debt, and saving some money too. What has suffered, more than my finances, is my running speed. Now, I'm not one to care so much about speed. I'm a mental health runner, after all, but I felt pretty darned lousy after the Road Runner. I've run the last three years of the Road Runner coming within three minutes of my time each year. That's not so bad, when you can run around the same time each year and be another year older. That's something to be proud of--the coolest thing about running, really--how running longevity really counts and gives us some respect among the younger, less jiggly running set. We've injured, healed, and re-injured again, but keep running, our scar tissue growing thicker and tougher with each season, making us swarthy as chicken gristle. I think that's so cool. When I see an older runner in their 60's, 70's and 80's, I stare at them like running gods. They know so much.

I was heavily influenced by Barb Broad's speech at the SARC pasta party. If that skinny little lady can run three and half hour marathons at age 59 with a some speed work, then I should be able to shave off a lousy ten minutes from my marathon times and feel a little better at the finish--not throw up into porto potties. I had an epiphany last week. My son is doing some tutoring after school, so I'd have an hour to kill after work before picking him up from school. It's not long enough to go home and do anything--didn't want to waste gas, either, driving back and forth, so I sat resentfully in the parking lot, waiting. I called a few people to pass the time and watched a young man do laps around the school track.

Epiphany! I could change shed my Career Services nerdy wear, like Clark Kent changing into Superman, for my Sensationally Red running clothes right before I left work and have just enough time to crank out a speed session, which I haven't done in years--since 2005, at least, when I was doing the serious 5K circuit. Now, I don't subscribe to anything too technical. I figure if I: hate it, breathe like a train, and cuss like a sailor, I'm doing good enough. I puzzled over my Timex for the first time in years, although I never take it off, no matter what I'm wearing. I wear it with dress slacks, slinky dresses and buck naked. It identifies me as a runner, no matter what the venue. I lost the little loop that holds down the strap--I let it flop shamelessly in the breeze. I love my Timex Ironman watch, but since I haven't used it since 2005 for track workouts it took a little studying to recall how it works.

Here's my workout for Speed Session # 1

Mile 1: easy mile warm up--10:00 minute pace

Mile 2: 2 x 800's with 30 second rest after each 800
For the first 800, I ran like heck on the straights and jogged the turns. I ran the first 800 in a little over 4 minutes. 4:03, I think. I'm not an anal bean counter. This is the best you're going to get from me.

For the 2nd 800, I tried running like heck for the whole 800. This was a little slower, running the second 800 in 4:11.

Mile 3: I ran each 800 as fast as I could. My lungs seared, I bitched, moaned and thoroughly hated every second. I kept thinking of Paul O. in the club for inspiration to hold my pace. He's a talented short distance guy who doesn't understand why long distance runners enjoy torturing themselves by running slow for hours on end. He likes quick searing pain he knows will end soon. I kept thinking of this while I ran my 800's for mile 3.

Mile 4: I did another mile running a sustained fast speed. I think I ran it in 8:30. Not too bad considering it's been a very long time since I've run anything faster than a 9:30 pace. I was happy. I got a real good runner's buzz from just 4 miles, which was very encouraging.

If there's anyone out there that could suggest a simple workout for next week--I'd gladly consider it.