Last Day of PoMo

I fell woefully behind on NaPoWriMo, but I had to write a poem today, for the last day. I was thinking a sonnet, but then this one turned...I don't know, political? Inspired by listening to the radio on the way home and having some theory thoughts about all the violence we're experiencing, and then hearing a man talk about the long history of race riots in the US.
In any case, here's my sonnet. It's pretty bad, I won't lie, but maybe I can fix it.

Sonnet for the End Times

every generation seems doomed to repeat the same problem

Today they riot in Chicago and New York and Baltimore.

Before that, Ferguson, and Brooklyn and L.A.

Since America has been a country we’ve been at war

with ourselves. Or let me be honest: they,

the whites, we have been at war with black men. Four score,

a hundred years, a century, more. In 1919, play-

ing at Lake Michigan, a young black boy crossed a line, bore

the weight of ensuing riots on his thin corpse. Today

this same black boy wears a hoodie, does not answer, Sir,

does not defer, physically, to the Law. They will say

he was armed, he attacked, that’s what Police are for.

They shoot; we riot; played by the game.

Tell me, Fire, who burns in the flame?

Why I am Unfriending You

Dear Person Who is My Facebook Friend, But Whom I Don't Really Know and with Whom, it has now become painfully clear, I Have Nothing in Common,

I don't know why we're friends. It's not that I don't like you, because clearly I did like you, at one time, maybe more than 20 years ago. Or maybe I never really liked you and never really knew you, but somehow found you again after lo these many years, and then somehow felt guilty that I didn't know you or that I was judging the now-you based on the old-you and so I accepted your friend request, or I saw you on a friend's page and thought "Hey, that who's it. I should send a friend request." Because we all know that more friends are better, right? If I have a lot of friends that somehow makes me a good person, better, say, than those other people who have less friends.
But now, now it has become clear that not only do I not really know you, I don't think, actually, that I DO like you. In fact, I think I dislike you. Not, as you might suspect, because you leave snarky and judgmental comments on my supposedly humorous political posts. Not, as you might fear, because I am a censoring communist that wants to take away your guns and your right to talk about your guns. Not, as you might posit, because I don't want to hear the voice of dissent.
No, actually, it's because I'm tired. Tired of the political climate in which the only way people can disagree is to call each other names like Nazis or communists. Tired of a culture in which the President wanting to talk to schoolchildren is suspect. Tired of people who say they believe in the Constitution when they don't, actually, know what it says.
Yes, I have to say. Some of the people who disagree with me ARE stupid and racist. I just didn't know that you were one of them.
Now, I realize, Facebook really should just be a place where I update everyone on what I'm eating and my workout routine.
For all these reasons and more, oh so much more, I am unfriending you.

As if to explain

First, I ran this. You can't see it, but it's f@&*ing steep
Done! See the way I'm tossing that totally unnecessary shirt? That's because I don't need it! I'm done!
Why am I making that face? Because I ran faster than I ever have. I'm tired. (please note: mouth open, eyes closed. Yeah, that's me.)

Clarity Lite

All of you know that I recently ran a big crazy race (because I won't stop talking about it). I think I hurt my waist (if one can hurt one's waist, then I did), but that's not what I want to write about. No, I want to write about the general sense of happiness and well-being that has come over me since the race. Actually, I think it started with the third leg of the race. I went into it with the attitude of well, this is the last one, how bad can it be? because soon it will be over. But I have to say that the third leg was my favorite.
First, because it was the third leg, I didn't feel like I had to run fast. I just settled into a rhythm and stuck with it. It helped that my rhythm also allowed me to pass a few people.
Second, the leg started at Rockport State Park in the dark. But not in the real middle-of-the-night dark. It was more the sun's-about-to-come-up dark. So I ran into the sunrise, farm land on each side. Horses, grass, barns. Wow. It was beautiful. And I just felt happy to be running in the morning in such a beautiful place. If not for the race, would I ever have run exactly there at that time? No.
Third, and maybe this is the endorphins talking, but since I got back (well, to be honest I'd have to say that it's really since I woke up Sunday morning after a good night's sleep) I've felt a little more calm about most things. I don't worry so much about not writing, I don't worry so much about the future or the past.
There's nothing like a big crazy race to help you live (or run) in the present moment. It's still difficult, of course, but I have to say I haven't been plagued by the self-doubt that is usually my constant companion. I haven't worried that I'm a total fraud (until I typed it just now. Now I'm worried about it).
In any case, my general level of anxiety about most things (including exercise) has subsided. I'm loving riding my bike around and swimming.
Peace out!

Done. And done.

I have a million hilarious quips about the Wasatch Back relay, but suffice it to say that I finished. It has got to be one of the friendlier races I've run, with participants spraying water on hot runners and cheering each other on. I love my fellow runners (go Van 1!) and we really had lots of fun. So the two words to describe the Wasatch Back: fun and torturous. Even the relaxing parts (showers, sleeping on wrestling mats with 100s of other runners in a high school gym) had their torturous aspects. Such as lying there not really sleeping knowing I had to get up and run in 3 hours. 2 hours. 1 hour. Etc.
My hardest leg was 8.5 miles of some uphill and mostly downhill. On pavement. Totally exposed. At 6 pm. I ran about 19 miles total in the course of 23 hours. My fastest pace was 9 minute miles for the first leg of the race and my slowest was 10:54 for my last leg of the race.
I would love to tell you all about it, except I must eat some chips and salsa (or "dinner"), drink a beer and go to bed. It will be the first night I've slept in my own bed in three nights.
We finished the 180 mile race in 32 hours 36 minutes 38 seconds. We like symmetry. We rock!!
And I'm still alive. So it's all good.

Moab: The Stats

So we're back. Thanks to my superb navigational skills, we took the long way (and by long I do not mean more scenic route) there. But we took the more scenic and shorter route home. We made it, hurray!
We ate a lot of meat, but did not drink excessively, due to race day. We ate at Eddie McStiff's, The Moab Brewery, The Moab Diner (breakfast), and ZAK (something like that). I think my favorite meal was the post-race hamburger at ZAK. But it also might have been the tiny pb and j I scarfed at the post-race feed.
But okay, the details. Well, Saturday night when we were having dinner the wind was howling. I imagined snow. But when we woke up Sunday (yes, at 6 a.m.!!) it wasn't too windy, only really way too cold. We boarded school buses (first time since 1984) and waited. And waited. Then we were driven up to the start. During this time we overheard strange conversations about which shirts to wear and Texas schools.
As soon as we arrived at the Start we got in line for the Porta Potties where we met some nice women from Eagle, Colorado and a man from Salt Lake. We made it to the bathroom before the Start, so that was good. In line, we debated how many layers to shed and put in the sweats bag. I ended up keeping my cotton sweatshirt worn over two different long-sleeve shirts. We saw my friend Adrienne from Idaho (also in line for the pottie) and wished her luck.
We lined up behind the 9:00 minute pace. I thought it optimistic, but Scorpion's Tail said we could always slow down later. Part of her evil plan, no doubt. We ran our first mile in about 9:55, but then we sped up. I shed my sweatshirt around mile 4. ST took a double-espresso clif shot around mile 6. I had part of a chocolate one. Hard not to gag....
There were more hills than I expected and I kicked it on mile 7, only to find that we had like three more hills. (gasp, wheeze). The hills were probably our slowest miles, but not too slow. I guess those hill workouts worked!
But, thanks to Scorpion's Tail, I PRed. Hard not to do when it's only your second half-marathon ever. But we finished in 2:04:09. My goal was 2:10, so we smashed that. We ran a lot of 9:10 or under miles. But the last mile we ran in 8:54. I didn't think that would be possible!!
It was the most beautiful racecourse ever, on Highway 128 just North of Moab. It started at Dewey Bridge and ended at a resort. People were actually drinking beer at 10:30 when we finished (and by people I mean the guy from Salt Lake who we met at the start. Okay, he wasn't the only one!). I saw a former student and a mother from Son's school. So it is a small world after all.
Well, you might be wondering, what's next for the running Dr. Write?
No running. I'm going back to swimming and yoga. But I do plan on doing this small triathlon in the spring. The swimming is in a pool, and the run is only a 5K. I think the 10K is the longest race I'll do in the near future. So maybe some running, nothing longer than 6 miles. I was happy with my six miles this summer.
At the end of the race, I think Scorpion's Tail could have run another 13, but I was done. DONE.

5K Update

Well, my 5K was okay. It was hotter than I expected at 8:25 when I began the uphill finish. (Uphill finish? Whose idea was that?) On the plus side I passed some people who looked younger than me. On the minus side, many, many, many Masters runners beat me by 10 minutes. And a 79-year-old woman finished right behind me.
Another plus was the pancake breakfast, which MB, Son and Son's Friend also got to indulge in. It was very good. I was also chatted up by a man in the 50-59 age division at the starting line. This made me feel better (wouldn't I make a great second trophy wife?) and worse (so this is my fate, I'm now only attractive to men over 50? And my husband).
We had Son's Friend for a sleepover last night. They went to bed at 10:30 and got up at 5:45. Yes, that's right, 5:45. I had to get up at 6:30 anyway for the race, but still. There will be enforced napping today.
Alright. So here are my stats.
I finished in 28:08, making my pace approximately 9 minutes/mile. Or, as I like to think of it, only slightly faster than an octogenarian. My goal was an 8:30 mile, but I didn't reach that. Maybe next time. I think my first mile was under that, but, as they say, I started too fast.
There was an award ceremony after. I liked watching the young girls get their medals. They were cute. I think I liked to run when I was younger, and then I had my love of running killed by a terrible track coach in junior high, Mr. Bodily. I'm not joking.
I'm getting the love back.
But I still think the running should get easier, shouldn't it?
Today I'm shopping for a swimming suit. I will triumph. I will!!