This is what August is supposed to feel like.

Enough of that pre-autumn, that cool breeze, that chill. If I'd wanted to be reminded of impending Winter I'd have spent the Springtime in Australia.

Lazy hazy days with a great excuse for jumping into the pond. Sitting still and sweating. Watching smoke rise vertically from a pipe. Dogs passed out in the sun like a couple of solar panels, soaking it up.

I got my run in before 10 AM this morning, 4.5 miles, facing down the rising sun on the power lines. Flushed and glowing like a furnace. I'm used to sweating through my shirt, but I think this is the first time I've ever sweat through my shorts. 

And gosh did it feel great. 

Man, I have got to move someplace warmer.

I've got about two months to figure out where, and how.

I Don’t Understand People: Exercise Edition

Had a lovely run today. A bit over four miles, down a back-road, past some cranberry bogs, a long stretch of power lines that wound past kettle ponds, a wooded path through some tall grass, and then back along an historic highway graciously edged by a sidewalk, with trees arching overhead and antique houses alongside. It was cloudy and the air was dry—perfect running weather. I was concerned that I might have picked up some ticks in the run through the woods, so I finished it off by jumping in a lake and swimming across and back.

So much lovely scenery and fresh air. I ended up feeling energized, relaxed, and a little euphoric.

Also, a little bit confused. See, where today’s trail came out of the woods it led past the local YMCA. This is a rather dismal blocky structure surrounded by weedy dirt fields and a massive parking lot. It’s the low point of the run, architecturally speaking. I haven’t been past it in years, and I think the only time I’ve been inside was for a classmates pool-party birthday in Middle School.

And behold: up there on the second floor, in front of some plate-glass windows overlooking this sprawling parking lot, there was a line of treadmills occupied by folks pounding over empty miles and standing in one place.

They were indoors, staring at a parking lot, on a day like today. Even stranger, the corner of that parking lot contained the entrance to the trail I’d just emerged from, and all the wonderful stuff I’d just run past. They could have parked their cars in the same place, run down that trail, and they could have done it for free.

But the grass on that trail was so high it was obvious nobody ever did this.

Now, I like the fitness aspect of running. Since I returned to it a little over a year ago I’ve shed some pounds, toned my legs, and ended up in what’s probably the best shape of my life.

But fitness is not why I run. I run for the scenery, the challenge of different terrain and weather, and the satisfaction of going a little farther every time. I run because it’s both a great mood enhancer and my frivolous indulgence. I run because it’s a comfortable way to be alone and an opportunity to listen to new music with an open mind. I run because there’s nothing like the freedom of knowing you can travel seven miles in an hour, uphill or down or both, with nothing more than a decent pair of shoes.

I guess I’m mostly running these days because I can’t help myself.

But running on a treadmill? Paying money to join a gym? Burning gas and driving to a facility for the pleasure of staring out a window?

If that’s what running was, I’d never buy another pair of sneakers.

Not that I’m complaining. It just means more empty trails for me.

Running the Sandy Neck Barrier Beach

We sure are blessed with having some lovely places to go running around here.

One place I haven't taken nearly enough advantage of is the Sandy Neck Barrier Beach. The north side is a fairly typical six mile stretch of stony Cape Cod sand. Folks are allowed to take their all-wheel drive vehicles out there, provided there are no Piping Plovers nesting along the shore. Because the beach only has one access point, a plover nest at the first mile shuts down the last five miles of beach to vehicles. This has caused a great deal of tension in the community, as environmentalists and beach use advocates go head to head. We've even had nests of Plover eggs smashed so that the rangers would have no excuse for keeping big stretches of it closed.

Personally, I'm more fascinated by the southern side of the barrier beach, which has a winding trail between the salt marsh and the beach. There's seven miles of  constantly changing nature back there worthy of a zen garden. I did a lot of work out there with a biology teacher during high school. In addition to the plovers, they've also studied deer, coyotes, crows, diamondback terrapins, and honeybees all along this route.

There's also a scattering of cottages, most of which went up during the Great Depression and which pass to the builders' descendants through some kind of eminent domain arrangement. The way I understand it, the owners are very limited in the repairs the are allowed to make, and new construction is forbidden. No one is allowed to drive on these trails except for cottage owners and rangers. Although the biologists I worked with did have a pass to drive here--as well as a publicly held research station that's used for overnights with students. I spent a couple of nights there myself, in-between days tracking coyote trails and homing into the signals broadcast by radio-collared deer.

It's been years since I've been all the way out to the end, and then it was only once or twice. The stretches of loose sand alternating with packed dirt and gravel make for a vigorous workout whether one walks or runs. But it was a crystal clear day today, with a cool north wind, and recent rainfall has left the sand a little more firmly packed than it would be otherwise, so it seemed like a good day to take my new runner's legs out for a prolonged drive.

So many vistas, treasures, and surprises.

Like around mile five, I came across...hello what's this?

Let's go in for a closer look. Could it be...

Yep. It is. Just about the nicest writer's retreat someone could ask for. I'm tempted to strap the Olivetti Lettera to my back and spend a day out here tapping away on the porch. Or maybe my Remington student model, which has no bell and therefore would make for quieter jogging. Maybe if I left a politely worded note I could work out a rental arrangement. Me and the spirit of EB White, in a shed.

Not today, though. Today I had my heart set on jogging all the way to the end of the beach. (Plus, no typewriter.) Around mile six I passed a hiker going the other way. He took in my plodding gait and the half-empty water bottle in my hand and said, "I'm exhausted just looking at you." Strangely enough, I was still feeling pretty damn vigorous at the time.

The thing about getting to the end is, you're only halfway there. All that sand is a lot harder to run through on the way back.

Round trip was 14.3 miles according to my magic GPS phone. This is a record for me, more than a half-marathon, and in sand. And I have some pretty gnarly blisters on my toes to show for it.

The body is tired but the soul is restored.

Cold Run With Ducks

According to the tracking device GPS smartphone I’ve been strapping to my arm, I ran 12.4 miles today. Almost a half-marathon. It was cold, but not as cold and windy as it could have been, and I managed to follow the open track along the canal without freezing any parts off.

This little smartphone’s pretty handy. Music, GPS, photography and video, plus a keyboard for word processing and note synchronizing? I kind of regret being such a curmudgeon about them for so long. The things are made for jogging.

Here’s another photograph to convey a bit of the joy I feel when running.

Most of those footprints are mine. I only encountered three other people along the whole route.

There were a bunch of ducks clucking away in one of the bends of the canal.

I’m not sure what the story was with these guys. The males were very dark in color and the females very light—or maybe it’s the other way round? Anyone know what they are?

Running In Winter

I went for a run in the 14 degree weather the other day. This is the coldest exercise I’ve ever subjected myself to. The first ten minutes were tough but after that I was quite comfortable. Mostly.

We’ve had an inch of snow on the ground for several days, so it was interesting to see how many of the trails around here had not been trod by man or beast in that time. Most had coyote tracks running along them. Deer tracks would cross the hiking trails but not follow them. I didn’t see any signs of raccoon anywhere, or the wild turkey flocks that have been holding up traffic crossing Cape Cod roads of late.

Most of the hiking trails were free of any sign of human passage at all. I may have run them many times before, but this time I felt like an explorer.

One of these days, when it’s warmer, I’m going to chronicle some of the wonderful vistas I get to take in during my runs around here. Pausing to mess with a camera is a bit of a pain, but with this new budget android phone strapped to my arm for music and GPS, it’s hard to come up with an excuse for not taking some pictures.  On a day like this, though, it means I have to take the gloves off.

Still, I had to stop here and take some pictures. The power lines were breathtaking in the snow, and those cirrus clouds gave the sky an elegant texture below the moon.

Things got a little dicey when I made it down to the canal. This may be over-sharing, but I’ll do it in the name of safe fitness practice. The advice:

When one runs at freezing temperatures in wide open spaces with the wind in one’s face, one must take care to not freeze their bloody c**k off. Put on an extra pair of briefs or two before you leave. (Let’s just say I never thought I’d have an occasion to google “jogging penis frostbite,” but here we are.)

No worries, though. It was nothing a few minutes in front of the fire couldn’t cure.

Running For Fun and Mood Enhancement

Speaking of drinking, is it me or is the font on this Smith Corona Clipper uneven enough to qualify as drunk? It also shadows each keystroke into the next space, if I don’t get the touch exactly right.

I swear, officer, I know how to drive this thing.  I’ll be fine, honest!

More Miles

10.77 miles today. These longer runs are starting to feel easier and easier. I spend a great deal of the time feeling mildly high, actually--in a wholesome, fitnessey way. 

And it's a great excuse to bliss out to music. I have a hard time just sitting and listening to the stuff these days, which seems unfortunate. When I'm running, I'm as focused on listening as I'll ever be. It's amazing how much better mediocre music sounds when you're running, while decent music sounds absolutely great.

Little hints of boredom are just starting to poke their head through on some of these longer runs. It's sinking in that if I want to extend a run beyond ten miles, no matter how comfortable I feel, I still have to do one thing  for more than two hours. 

For the most part that's fine. Each new tune that comes over the earbuds has me good for another half mile, at least. I'm blessed with lovely places to run around here: stunning views of the ocean, woodland trails, quaint historic downtowns. The seasons change fast enough that even the same trails are varied from month to month. All this adventure without even getting into the car to drive to any of the other natural wonders that are within the radius of my work commute. So keeping that boredom at bay has been easy, so far. 

I guess I might as well run an official road-race one of these days. So far this has been a solo hobby done for my own satisfaction and amusement, but as I do more and more running it seems like it might be fun to strap on a number and run with some of my co-workers. Paying to do  something that I usually get to do for free rankles my stingy gene, but there has to be some value in the validation of your peers.

Running a five-K would feel trivial at the point; the Falmouth Road Race should be easy (if it’s not too hot that day); a half-marathon is just about what I'm ready for. 

Not that I could complete it with any tremendous speed, mind you. I'm averaging 5.5 MPH over mixed terrain on my own, which I don't think would put me on any leader-boards. 

After that, if my enthusiasm doesn't wear off and my knees don't start to protest, building up for a full marathon seems like the next thing to do. The qualifying times for the Boston Marathon are awfully tight, though (3 hours 10 minutes for the whole thing?) so despite that event being remarkably close by, I may have to leave the full marathon on the just a hobby list for a while. We'll see if my interest holds up long enough to get fast enough for something like that.

Now if only sitting down and writing for a marathon session would start to feel easier as well, I might be able to actually get a book finished. Practice, I guess, is the key. How is it possible to know this and still find it so difficult to sit my ass down and do it?

(You’ll notice I haven’t talked any more about Nanowrimo since early November. About that…well, maybe something later.)

Running Wired and Wireless

Summer Run (Grocery Bag Typecast)

A couple of things:

• I know I got the date wrong. Sue me. I’m about to work an over-night and when I’m done it WILL be Friday.
• On second thought, please don’t actually sue me.
• The folding Corona Special seems made for typecasting on paper grocery bags. The type slugs produce wonderful, heavy letters, and the paper doesn’t seem to slip in the platen at all.