Category Archives: Mohawk Valley

Pre-Adventure Activities

Saturday I wanted to get an early start on our Fly Creek adventure. I did not go so far as to set my alarm, though. I had done that for the DARE run the previous Saturday (it’s like a game: how many more posts can I mention the DARE run in?). I feel that was perfectly acceptable, but to set my alarm merely to get up and do random fun things on a day off struck me as too much. All this by way of saying, I did not get as early a start as I had wanted.

I went running first thing. Come to think of it, I did a blog post on that. Nothing further to report.

We needed some money for our adventures, so we went to First Source Federal Credit Union, which holds our Mad Money account. I love the Herkimer branch of First Source, because they are dog friendly. We walked down with our dog one time to make a deposit, and Steven stayed discreetly outside with Tabby while I went in.

“Oh, you can bring your dog in,” the teller told me. I immediately went and told Steve. Tabby is, even if I say it myself, an exceptionally adorable dog. The tellers all admired her, a couple even coming out to pet her. They also gave her a treat, of which they keep a supply to give dogs in cars utilizing the drive through. I think Tabby cares more for the attention than the treat, but she liked that too.

Ever since that day, we almost always walk to the bank with Tabby to transact our business, rather than using the drive through, phone lines, or on-line banking, the last of which I don’t properly understand anyways. We like to take Tabby for a walk before we leave her for a few hours anyways, so we put her on the leash and enjoyed the very pleasant morning weather. They almost forgot to give Tabby her treat at the bank, but Steven reminded them.

Consequently, the morning was farther advanced than I had anticipated when we started for Fly Creek. We did not mind. It was the beginning of another fun Saturday in the Mohawk Valley.

A note to my readers: If you read all my posts (and I don’t flatter myself that many people do), you may notice that the events in today’s post actually preceded the events in Sunday’s post. Well, I started out to write about the Cider Mill and got a little sidetracked. I thought it would be OK, and I hope to finally get to the Cider Mill tomorrow.

Be Careful What You Wish For

I feel I owe an apology to the universe. Here I was blithely wishing for a rainy Sunday, on which I planned to do things which I could perfectly well do on a sunny day. Well, I got it, and now the entire east coast is dealing with the aftermath of Irene.

In Herkimer it seemed we were merely having our rainy Sunday. We tuned into a special edition of Today and were properly shocked and concerned about the images from New York City and the surrounding areas. As the day wore on, we started hearing about problems closer to home.

Sauquoit Creek, which I had never properly been aware of before this, flooded. I saw a picture WKTV posted on Facebook of a road I used to drive every day to work, waist deep in water (depending on how tall you are.) Another reason to be glad I don’t work there any more (we won’t get into other reasons; this isn’t that sort of a blog).

Friends and relatives from other areas checked in with tales of what they were suffering. Many were without power, although some had generators (or I guess they wouldn’t have been on Facebook) (unless they were on a battery operated laptop, I suppose. I don’t really know much about the internet). I heard a covered bridge in Arlington, VT was out, but nobody posted a picture, so I don’t know which covered bridge or how far out it is. I must say Facebook is a fascinating tool at times like this.

Do I feel my wish for a rainy Sunday wrought all this havoc? I guess not really. In college I used to observe that it only rained when I did not wear my raincoat. When I wore it, we had a nice sunny day.

“What an ego,” my friend Susannah Diamondstone (one of the all time great names) used to say. “She thinks she controls the weather.”

Of course, I did not really think that. But the facts bore me out.

Perhaps I feel I owe an apology for enjoying it all. Not that I enjoy other people being flooded out and/or without power. And I certainly don’t enjoy the death toll. But I did enjoy my rainy Sunday in the Mohawk Valley. And I feel grateful that the wrath of Irene passed me by.

On the Way to Fly Creek

Saturday Steven and I headed to Fly Creek, hoping to have another fabulous Saturday that would generate multiple blog posts, as our trip to Little Falls did a couple of weeks ago.

We drove through Mohawk and out Route 28 South, a road we haven’t taken since the last time we drove out to Fly Creek. We got stuck behind an RV and a semi, but we didn’t mind much. We were in no hurry, and there is a lot to look at on that road.

First we drove up Vickerman Hill, and congratulated ourselves once again on not buying a house we looked at out that way. It was a nice house, although smaller than what we wanted, and living in a more rural area has its charms. However, fun as it may be to drive that hill on a dry, bare road, I can’t help but imagine doing it in a snowstorm. Yikes!

The views as you drive down Route 28 are incredible. You can see for miles over wooded hills and farmland. Lovely green this time of year, and we promised ourselves to drive this way again when the fall colors are at their height.

We saw a few businesses we’d like to check out sometime, notably Mr. Shake. There is a Mrs. Shake in Mohawk, and I’d like to ask if they are related. I foolishly did not make a note of the other business names, but there is another ice cream/lunch place I know is good because I stopped there once with my mom and sister Cheryl. There is also a nursery we stopped at. We didn’t stop Saturday, though. Too late for additions to my container garden now!

We also passed some cool looking barns and beautiful stone church, which I believe is actually called The Old Stone Church. And we noted some wonderful waterfront properties along Schuyler Lake. I wished we were friends with some of them, so we could visit and sit on their decks and look at the water. So peaceful.

We soon came to Fly Creek, where we were ready to take on part two of our adventure. So at least I will have gotten two blog posts out of the day.

Back to Running Commentary

A bit of advice to people who run, although you probably already knew this: don’t take four days off.

When I started to run this morning, after not having run since Monday, I knew right away it would not be fun. I took the opposite direction from what I usually take, hoping to fool my body into thinking that I was an opposite type of person from what I really am. I pretty much knew it wouldn’t work, but I thought that different sights might take my mind off my troubles.

I had a vague idea of crossing Rt. 5, also known as State Street, and running in a really unfamiliar section of town, but I really don’t like crossing busy streets. I ran along the side of Rt. 5, though, and looking at businesses and old buildings kept my interest up.

I saw Baker’s Dozen Bagel Shop and was immediately hungry. I ran by the site of the now closed Albany Street Cafe and was sad. Hummel’s Office Plus was closed, so could not wave to anybody there. I saw a gentleman getting out of his car in front of Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner and said good morning.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Not too bad,” I replied, “but I’d rather be going there for breakfast.” I ran on.

I passed the Hot Spot Salon and Luxury Nails and thought a pedicure would feel good. I passed the Folts Home and knew I was not ready for that yet. I passed Mohawk Medical Arts Building and Bassett Healthcare and reflected that I really wasn’t feeling too bad. Anyways, Urgent Care wasn’t open yet.

A drill sergeant once told me that the real secret to running was to distract yourself and to realize how far you could keep running when you feel like crap. I was in a class in the army — never mind what for, I don’t think I learned it — that took place at a campgrounds. Physical Training was on our own, and for the most part we pretty much ignored it, but a few of us got up early and ran. Not together. I did not run very far the first day, but one sergeant mentioned that he ran till he came to a barn then turned around. The next day I said to him, “I ran to your barn this morning.”

“Good run,” he approved.

“It wasn’t a good run, it was a terrible run,” I said. “I wanted to stop running and cry, but I was too dehydrated.” I thought about that this morning.

This is what I mean when I say the run might not make me feel good, but I almost always feel good that I ran. I didn’t even feel like crying this morning. In fact, as I write this, several hours after the run, I feel pretty damn good.

I’m Walkin’, Yes Indeed

I’ve had trouble running since the DARE 5K (apparently I’ll never stop talking about it), but I’ve taken Tabby on some walks.

Monday I did manage a short run, so Tabby walked my cooldown with me, as she likes to do. I put a little variety in my life by walking around the block next to ours instead of our own block as usual. We ran into a couple of dogs we know, Chico and Bear, with their person (whose name I embarrassingly don’t know). Bear was riding in one of those front carriers on the person, so I petted him. I tried to pet Chico, but he was more into trying to sniff Tabby’s butt.

Tuesday I felt dreadfully tired, not for any good reason, but wanted to get postcards sent to my soldiers. I picked out some Georgia cards I thought they’d like and tried to write a few amusing comments on the back. Obviously it would have been better for the blog if I had send Mohawk Valley post cards. Last week I sent post cards from Little Falls (picked up during our fabulous Saturday there, which gave me three blog posts). We walked to the post office. Tabby pooped on the way, and I was so tired I had to concentrate to remember to put the post cards in the mailbox and the poop bag in the trash and not the other way around.

Steven graciously agreed to accompany us on Wednesday, and I suggested we walk down German Street to the path on what used to be a hydraulic canal. It’s such a pleasant walkway, and now there is parking for people visiting the folks that live along that area. We turned down a street I didn’t recall walking down before. We admired a couple of screened in porches, noted some frog figurines in a front yard, and stopped once to let a little girl pet Tabby. It was an enjoyable if uneventful walk, and it took us a good half hour. Nothing to rival the prodigious walks my parents take, but we’re younger than they are. We haven’t been doing it as long.

Thursday we all walked together again, and walked for a shorter time. We discussed our plans for the upcoming weekend. I simply must do something more exciting to blog about. We came up with a few ideas. Stay tuned.

Come On, Irene

Oh, don’t worry. I’m not encouraging a hurricane on to greater feats of destruction; I’m just making a play on words with a one-hit-wonder ’80s tune. I can’t be the first to say it.

Yes, this is another post about the weather. “Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.” I like to say it in a real air-head voice. My dad points out that people do so do something about it. They put snow tires on their car or central air in their house, as the case may be. That is, they treat the symptoms.

The symptom I’m hoping for from Irene, and no treatment necessary, is a rainy Sunday. I like to spend Saturday running around doing things, for entertainment, blog or practical purposes. On Sunday I like to relax.

A rainy Sunday, I feel, is a perfect day to watch an old movie or read a good book. And enjoy a cup of hot tea. Maybe in the mug Steven got me of Henry VIII and his wives. The wives disappear when you add a hot beverage.

I know these activities will not make for a scintillating blog post. And how much even less scintillating is a post where I’m only hoping for future weather conducive to such activities. Really, sometimes I wonder about myself.

Looking Forward to Fall in the Mohawk Valley

Autumn is my favorite season. Although we are still almost a month from the actual equinox, we’ve been getting a preview in the form of lower temperatures and higher pollen counts.

I have suffered from seasonal allergies since I was a little girl. Spring and fall I keep the tissue companies and antihistamine manufacturers in business. That being the case, you would think I would dread the first sight of a red leaf (or that first bud, but that’s a blog post for another season).

No so. That tickle in the back of my throat, although annoying in and of itself, translates to a tingling of excitement all over. I’m sure other people feel the same way. I’ve read commentators who say fall, however ironically, represents new beginnings. I agree (and I have no problem with irony).

Perhaps it is a holdover from school days. Naturally one was sad to see summer end. Sleeping in and doing pretty much what you felt like all day every day (with a few notable exceptions, but never mind that) is clearly superior to dragging ass out of bed at 6 am and having one’s movement controlled by bell and buzzer till 3 pm. And yet. And yet. Another school year was another chance. Maybe this year I could be cool and popular. Maybe this year I would get my papers written ahead of time and not after midnight the night before they were due. Maybe this year I could finally get it right. Whatever it was.

I don’t have anything as definite as the school year to mark time by, but the feeling of new beginning remains. Perhaps it’s the lower temperatures. I have a difficult time doing much in extreme or even moderate heat. Cooler temperatures mean more comfortable runs in the afternoon or long walks with my dog and husband.

The colors of fall are invigorating. It’s too early for many leaves to be changing, but once they start, this area is a feast for the eyes. I love when people decorate with scarecrows and hay bales. And then there’s the whole harvest thing. How about the taste of a fall apple? Yum!

I hope to find many fall things to blog about in the coming months. Stay tuned!

A Return to Crazy Otto’s

One of the goodies I got with my DARE 5K registration (I know, you thought I was all done talking about the DARE 5K) was a gift certificate for breakfast at Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner in Herkimer. Accordingly, my sister Diane, niece Camille, husband Steven and I went to 100 W. Albany St. Sunday morning.

Tommy had returned to Liverpool on Saturday. For those of you just tuning in, Tommy is my nephew who ran the DARE 5K with me. OK, ahead of me. He’s 13 and athletic. OK, no more about the DARE 5K this post. Diane used Tommy’s certificate, with his gracious permission. They only wanted us to use one at a time, so I will be forced to return to Crazy Otto’s for another breakfast at some future date. Oh, the sacrifices.

While the rest of us perused our menus, Steven finally located our Georgia license plate on the ceiling. In addition to many movie posters and memorabilia, Crazy Otto’s has license plates from all over the country on the walls and ceiling. We had donated our Georgia plate after noticing they did not have one, and received a discount on our meal the day we did.

I decided to get a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich on flat bread. Steven ordered bacon and poached eggs on pancakes. The waitress warned him the bacon would be between the pancakes.

“A lot of people think we forgot their bacon,” she said. Steven was OK with that.

Camille wanted scrambled eggs and toast with butter. Diane ordered a ham and cheese omelet.

“That’s very South Beach-y,” I told her. “If you don’t get toast.”

“I want the toast,” she said. She decided on sourdough, which I told her was also approved by the South Beach Diet. I’m a fan of the South Beach Diet.

A toddler at a nearby table started screaming about something.

“I’m always relieved when it’s not Cami making the most noise,” Diane confided.

Actually, everybody at our table was very well behaved, even me. We enjoyed our breakfast very much. As always, the food was delicious and the service good. I’ve blogged about Crazy Otto’s before, but I thought they rated another post. It’s a fun place to eat, and I was glad to bring my out of town visitors there. For more information about Crazy Otto’s call 315-866-8801 or visit their website at http://www.crazyottosempirediner.com.

The End of the Run

When I crossed the finish line of the DARE 5K on Saturday, I neither felt or looked particularly triumphant. I was having a full blown VCD attack.

I suffer from Vocal Chord Dysfunction or VCD. When I overexert the muscles in my throat tighten to the point that air cannot get through. It looks and sounds a lot like asthma, but the cause and the cure are different. I rarely have attacks, because I sensibly slow down when I need to slow down. But I obviously can’t finish a 5K slowing down. Not with all those nice people clapping and cheering for me, as this crowd did for every finisher.

As I walked rather unsteadily into the Court House parking lot, trying to get a grip on myself, a very nice young man followed me in some concern. He got me a cup of cold water and offered me a chair.

“I’m better off walking around,” I managed to tell him. After a few deep breaths and a sip of water, I tried to explain to him briefly about VCD. I think he was mostly relieved at the fact that I was standing and talking coherently, and not passing out or dropping dead of a heart attack. It was really very helpful of him, because in getting my breath to explain to him why I was all right, I actually got my breath and was all right. And the water was very welcome. I didn’t get his name, but I noticed his number was 22, because 22 is my lucky number. So if anybody reading this blog knows who was number 22, tell him thanks again. I appreciate it.

After I drank more water, and got Tabby some water, I watched more runners come in. You see, I was not dead last. At one point I saw a whole group of young people running together. Turns out only one of them was finishing. The others had finished earlier and went back to run their friend in and encourage him. I thought that was really cool. As I said, the crowd cheered and clapped for everyone.

We walked over to where they had one of those bouncy houses, which Camille (my 6 year old niece) expressed an interest in. They were serving food, so I got a hamburger and a couple of cookies. Steven ate a cookie, but declined the meat. After a while the DJ started a limbo contest with the junior runners. I thought maybe I’d better leave before he invited the 5K participants to limbo, too. As I walked down the sidewalk, a young man was waiting to high five me. It was my friend number 22.

“You see, I’m doing much better,” I told him.

“I was a little worried about you,” he said.

“It was very nice of you,” I told him. So that was my DARE run. A challenge, a lot of fun, good hamburger, nice crowd, and a good Samaritan. I look forward to next year.

I Finally Ran the DARE!

Saturday I finally ran the DARE 5K.

The night before the race, my sister Diane, niece Camille, nephew Tommy, husband Steve and of course dog Tabby walked to the bottom of College Hill so Tommy could see what was in store for him Saturday morning. Tommy lives in Liverpool and recklessly agreed to run the 5K with me having never seen the hill up to Herkimer County Community College (HCCC). He would have liked to walk all the way up it, but was overruled. We went for a long walk anyways, walking by the finish line and through Meyers Park, because Camille likes parks.

Saturday morning I walked over to the corner of Main and Church streets to pick up our numbers. Registration was in Christ Episcopal Church, which is the church I go to. They were just setting up. A lady told me pre-registrations were at 190, and they were expecting more registrations that day. Along with our numbers we got t-shirts, re-usable bags, and a few other goodies. Very nice for a $20 registration fee. Tabby, who had accompanied me, made a few new friends before we walked back to our house.

I love these smaller community runs. Of course the Boilermaker is exciting and overwhelming, but a smaller run is so relaxed and friendly. And an event walking distance from my house is awesome. No worries where to park the car!

The Youth Fun Run took place at 8:30 am. This was limited to children under 12, but parents were allowed to accompany them. I saw a few 5K numbers running along with the young participants. I thought that would be a great warm-up and made up my mind to do that next year, if possible, with my niece Camille. Everybody cheered the young runners as they came in. Some were very young. The littlest couldn’t have been more than two. Her father was carrying her. I yelled, “Good assist!” She ran the last few steps. What a cutie! Finally it was time for my event.

The start line was further down Main Street, almost at German. I was feeling plenty nervous by now. I don’t know why. I kept saying, “After all, somebody has to finish last. It might as well be me. People can laugh and point.” Several people assured me that even if I was last, people would cheer not laugh, and Tommy was of the opinion that I would not be last.

“Just don’t walk,” he advised me. “However slow you run, just don’t walk.” Good advice. In fact, that is my usual method.

Once we started the run was a lot of fun. Tommy took off strong, and I soon lost sight of him. I daresay I could have gotten a better time if I didn’t wave to the people on the sidelines cheering us on. Of course the cheering sections were not as big as at the Boilermaker (why do I feel I must compare every run to that?), but I was impressed with the number of people along the way shouting encouragement. As I have mentioned in previous blogs, I also like to call out remarks as I run. I didn’t feel much like doing that as I ran up College Hill (although I felt proud of the fact that I did not walk, as others did), but on the way down I shouted, “Gravity is my friend!”

“I think it’s everybody’s friend about now,” another runner said.

When we reached the off-road portion, I yelled, “I always wanted to know where this path went! I’m all excited!” I guess I was feeling a little high after the uphill exertion. A small group was cheering for us at the turn to the path. “Thank you for your support!” I told them.

There were a couple of uphill portions on the path, which I took exception to. At the top of College Hill, somebody had posted a sign saying it was all downhill from there. I believed it, but it was a lie! Other runners did not seem to feel these little upslopes were a problem, so I suppose I was just being that way.

After a while, a runner way ahead of me turned around and said, “Don’t stop, Aunt Cindy, you’re almost there!” I immediately suspected Tommy had walked, or I would never have gotten that close. Then again, he was definitely still ahead of me.

“Good job, Tommy!” I yelled.

Later on German Street I did catch up with him. We passed Bellinger. “Just Prospect, then Main,” I told him, giving him benefit of my familiarity with the geography. We almost caught up with another runner who turned around when he heard our feet. “Don’t look back, just keep going, you’re almost there,” I encouraged. He did, and I did not come close to him again.

Once we got on Main Street, Tommy took off and left me in the dust. I sprinted at the end too. And I see now my word count is over 800. This is the longest post ever! This is about a 5K, not a marathon! Is anybody still reading? I’ll finish up about the DARE 5K tomorrow. Remember, we left me approaching the finish line!