112 furlongs of fun

This is about a week late. I've been trying to get it out, but for some reason it just won't cooperate.

Saturday (Longrunday) dawned with me feeling more than a little ambivalent towards the idea of running. I don't know why, but I had been feeling like that for a couple of days. On Friday night I was almost dreading my Saturday run. My experiences over the past few weeks and the failures I've had have shown me that there is some wisdom in listening to my gut when it says "let's not go running today," so I made an executive decision to postpone it until Sunday. Besides, I already had a pretty full Saturday planned without taking three hours out of my day to run 14 miles.

Sunday actually made for a pretty decent day for a run anyway. It was nice and cool outside. The Cowboys weren't playing until Monday, and the Seahawks weren't playing well, so there was no point in watching that game. The only thing that was keeping me inside was waiting for a Craigslister to come buy our safe and the Amazon.Fresh people to deliver our groceries. Once those were dealt with, I was free to move about the city.

Before leaving home I looked at a map of the trail. I tried to do a little estimating on where I'd be when I turned around, but I didn't put much effort into it. I figured that Grendel would tell me when I've gone far enough and needed to turn around. It was kind of a controlled adventure. It's not like I was going to get lost.

I thought I was going to be alone out there for the first couple of miles. Usually around Lake Union there are at least a couple of people running or walking, but for whatever reason there was no one out there. It wasn't until I got to Fremont before I started seeing people, but once I saw my first it seemed like everyone came out. I'm guessing that was probably around the same time the Seahawks game ended. I know in Dallas the best time to go do anything is when the Cowboys are playing, but after the game is done the people come out like they've been trapped inside by a snowstorm for a week. It looks like the same thing is in effect here.

I hopped on the Burke-Gillman trail after about three miles and settled in for a nice easy run. That's why it took me three hours this time, I took it easy. Not like the last time I did a long run where it took me three hours to go ten miles. Last time it was because I was constantly stopping to consult my map because I had no idea where I was supposed to turn. This time, I simplified. My route may start to get boring to me, but at least I'm less likely to find myself looking at street names and wondering which was I'm supposed to turn to get home. And although there are a few hills and such along the trail, it's nothing like running over Capitol Hill or in either direction on Madison. Nope, from now on I'm doing simple out-and-back routes on the trail. I should still get enough hills in doing that to prepare me for November, so I'm not going to worry about that.

If there is a somewhat sheltered spot in this city, you can almost guarantee that some homeless person has claimed it for his own. I'm not being critical about that; people that don't have a roof still need a place to sleep. And let's be realistic here, homelessness is a problem that can never be solved; at best it can only be mitigated. Anyway, there's a reason I digress into homeless-talk. I've noticed a couple of homeless camps where the trail runs along the north side of Lake Union. Stick with me here, I'm going on another tangent. I think you'll see where this is heading, but I don't want you to think I've lost my mind. I was very fortunate to be born male. In fact, of all the lucky things that have happened to me, that's probably the luckiest. One of the best things about being a guy is that the world is my bathroom. If I can find a relatively secluded, and by relatively I mean barely hidden, I can whip out my equipment and write my name in the snow, sand, dirt, or on the tree, building, whatever. I haven't done it yet during one of my runs, but I can see a point in time when I might. Anyway, I was running along the trail feeling like there might be a need for a pit stop. I seriously considered going down into the gully to relieve myself, but I stopped because I saw the homeless camp. After whatever calamity forced these people to leave their home, the last thing they need is for some asshole to come along and pee all over the tiny patch of the world that they can call their own only because some public official hasn't forced them out of it.

I soon moved from the familiar part of the trail into new territory, and once I got into this new territory I had an opportunity to visit one of Seattle's many parks: Gasworks Park. I love the idea of Gasworks Park. I don't know the history behind it, so everything I think about it is conjecture, but I think there used to be a gas mine (or is that just in Star Wars?) or a gas processing plant on the site. Eventually, it was closed and rather than tear down all of the ironworks, they turned the whole thing into a park! How freaking crazy is that?! Mixed in with these metal structures are nice green hills and open spaces. There were tons of people out there, too, barbequeing, strolling, and flying kites. I've wanted to get a closer look at the place since I did the Duck Tour my first summer here. I didn't stay too long and I didn't stop at all. I just took in the sight while I was there.

I left the park and hopped back on the trail. I'd been on this part when I did the Lake Union 10k in August, but during the race there were some extra streets to run on to get us over one of the bridges. This time I just went right under them. And that's when I saw the Wall of Death. I have no idea what it is or what it's story is. I could probably find out by looking at Wikipedia, and I'm sure I'll do just that. What I know from running past it is that it's this spot under the overpass that looks sort of like a gazebo and around the top is painted (or etched, engraved, stamped... something) "Wall of Death." There was a kid on a skateboard inside it (it's big enough to have some activity but not big enough for a half-pipe) and I hoped that he wouldn't create himself a prophecy by screwing around in the Wall of Death.

The next thing I knew I was near the outskirts of UW. It came as a bit of a surprise, especially since I was still two miles short of my turnaround point. I expected when I was looking at the map that UW would be where I hit 7 miles, instead it was where I hit 5. I wonder... as I was running through this part of their campus, did I look like I belong there or did I look like I was too old to be in college? I wouldn't say I have a baby face, but I do think I look younger than I actually am. At best they fauna of UW, if they even thought about it, probably wouldn't be able to decide if I belonged. In any case, it made me think of good ol' UNT.

The path through the university got all nice and shady, which was good because I was starting to get hot. I should have been, I was well past the warm-up part of the run. It scares me to think that my warm-up might be in the multiple mile range now, but it's kind of true. My legs don't really get shaken out and ready to work until I've been at it for 15-20 minutes, and that's 1.5-2 miles worth of work, maybe a little more on some days. I passed through the university area and into a residential neighborhood. Have you ever noticed that only college kids or old folks live around colleges? You almost never see any middle age people. I think there's an economic reason for that. I have the concept in my head, but I'm having a hard time articulating it.

After a while, but much longer than I thought it should take, Grendel finally relented and told me that it was time to go home. As is my usual, I stopped running to walk for a couple of minutes and regroup for the long trek back. During this brief hiatus, I sucked down a chocolate GU and some water. The first time I had GU was during the super jock 'n jill half marathon and it was NASTY! But, this is the energy gel of choice for the Seattle Marathon, and the conventional wisdom is that you should train your stomach with whatever fine foods they're serving on the course, so my belly is getting GU. I tried to buy strong flavors when I bought it: espresso and chocolate. I have a feeling that something mild like vanilla or strawberry would end up having some sort of weird medicinal taste to it. I swear the one I had on the half was orange flavored. I just shuddered thinking about it.

That was just the boost I needed because my body was starting to protest all of the activity and throwing out hints that it wasn't going to put up with this stuff anymore. GU fooled it just enough that it agreed to get me closer to home. Well, for a little while it did, at any rate. Seeing how much energy I had after my little energy gel I picked up the pace to my normal cruising speed. Big mistake, although it wasn't until much later that I realized it. I burned a lot of energy doing that.

Why does it always seem faster going home? Is it because you know where you're going or you know what landmarks to look for? I don't know, but for whatever reason I got back through the neighborhoods quicker than I expected. My run through the university didn't give me any thoughts other than "only five more miles." I was relieved to pass by the Wall of Death and not see a dead skateboarder. I think the same kid was there, now with a homeless man for an indifferent audience, but he'd managed to keep from cracking open his skull or breaking his neck. I elected not to go back through Gasworks Park, which incidentally cut a quarter mile off of my route. Grrr. Double grrr, if I had gone through the park I probably could have found a water fountain. I was sucking down my water fast enough that I was going to be out of it before I got home.

At about 2 miles to go I was back on Westlake and running low on fuel, so I ate another GU, but I didn't have any water to wash it down with. It's my understanding that that stuff is more effective when you've got some water in your stomach. Maybe it helps it digest or absorb faster. I was looking everywhere for a water fountain or even a spigot that I could use, but there was nothing. I started just wanting it to end, and I was looking to my landmarks to help me figure out how much longer it was going to take me: that covered pathway is two miles, chinese restaurant is 1.6 miles, walking bridge means 1.25, etc, etc, etc. I was moving slow, but at least I was still moving. I finally got to Whole Foods and told Grendel to stop. My detour into Gasworks Park on the way out and not going in on the way back cost me a quarter mile, but I think between you, me and the rest of the internets we can say that 13.75 and 14 miles on foot is equivalent. What do you think?

On Monday, my body had the most interesting things to say. Things like "creeeaaaaak" and "this is what you get for doing this shit to me!" I don't know how people do recovery runs. I could barely walk.

I'm not sure what day of the week will be Longrunday this week. I have something that's going to keep me home on Saturday afternoon, and on Sunday there's a Cowboy game (if I can see it in my area!) in the afternoon and dinner reservations at 6pm. If I don't get to it Saturday, I may have to wake up early (shudder!) and do it Sunday morning. If those BASTARDS at the television network deprive me of my beloved, but frustrating, Cowboys I can just do it when I would have been watching the game. Either way, this is a step-back week, so my long run will only be 11 miles. I'll probably go faster than I'm supposed to, but this has been a week for working on speed anyway.