Category Archives: running

I went running twice this weekend while visiting family in Vermont (note to housebreakers: I’m HOME NOW, so don’t come to my house to break in).

Running in the rural section of Arlington, VT, where I stayed is not as comfortable for me as running in my beloved village of Herkimer, NY. For one thing, there were no sidewalks. There was not even a shoulder. Usually there was a little bit of a grassy edge I could move onto when a car approached. Most cars at least moved over a little, even if they didn’t slow down (a blessed few did both). I ran early in the morning, to avoid as much traffic as possible.

Saturday I ran out Ice Pond Road, which leads to Warm Brook Road. I saw the Ice Pond but not the Warm Brook. That run has the advantage of making a circle, at least for part of it. I still run out the road my sister-in-law’s house is on to Ice Pond Road, then back up that road after Warm Brook Road. But it’s not a complete out and back run. I used to do out and back runs all the time when I was in the army. I don’t know what my problem is with them now.

It is an odd thing (to me anyways, but I’m a New Yorker) that there are so many dead end roads in that area. We have this nice, long East Arlington Road and all along it are all these short little roads that don’t go anywhere but have houses on them. I suppose I could do a Dead End Run like I did on German Street in Herkimer once (I believe I wrote a blog post about it). Maybe next visit.

I did run one dead end on Saturday. It did not have one of those helpful signs saying “Dead End” or “No Outlet.” I had never been on that road. I decided to check it out. Dead end. I was almost at the end when a dog in a backyard started barking at me, so I turned around and ran back out.

Sunday I decided to do an out and back run, because I wanted to head in the other direction and knew I had no non-dead-end roads to turn down. But there was a covered bridge. I thought it would be nice to run over a covered bridge while visiting Vermont.

The bridge has a sign I’ve seen on many covered bridges: “One Dollar Fine for driving faster than a walk on this bridge.” Well, that’s for driving, I thought, not running. Anyways, sadly, my run is not much faster than a walk. Also, there was nobody there to collect a fine. I ran across.

I saw a sign for a private road. I see that a lot in Vermont. The sign looks exactly like a public street sign but says “Pvt” after the name of the road. I wanted to run down the road, knock on the door and say, “It’s your DRIVEWAY! Get over yourself!” I am unlikely to do any such a thing. I’m afraid I would become a victim of Private Road Rage.

I admired some rather magnificent houses as I went by. Some of them looked new and quite expensive. Then I saw one that was more my speed. There were four tractors, a tractor trailer cab and several pick-ups and cars in various states of road-worthiness. The front yard had decorations I enjoyed. A bat hung from a tree, as did a wind chime. A large spider was on a rock leaned against another tree. A leprechaun smiled from under a rock; a deer lounged next to the spider rock. Under a tree at the end of the yard I saw some chickens and a puppy. The biggest chicken was bigger than the puppy. It was a house with character. I admired it again on my way back.

As I got closer to the end of my run, I saw a lump that may have been a sleeping dog. I let it lie, as they say you are supposed to do. Another dog at that house, a gorgeous retriever-looking pooch, barked at me. I was almost back at my sister-in-law’s house by then.

Both runs had a couple of minor hills. Nothing to compare with what I like to run in Herkimer. I didn’t mind that, but by the end of the run I was really missing the spring. I reasoned with myself that the run was not so long as to make it really necessary to have a drink during. I had a bottle waiting for me at the end.

They were not bad runs. The temperature both days was reasonable, but humidity was high. I ended both runs stinky but glad I had run. I’ll be glad to get back to running at home, though.

Yesterday (Monday) I neither ran nor did anything else blogworthy. Today I thought it would be a good idea to run and write a post about that.

It was about the only thing that motivated me. Monday afternoon was very warm, but Tuesday was supposed to be better. LIES! What sacks those meteorologists are! (um, that’s short for “lying sacks of shit,” but I didn’t want to use that entire vulgar expression) (oops) (Now I’m getting silly)

I was looking around for a sufficiently large shirt to run in when I noticed a running shirt I almost never wear. It is an actual running shirt which I got it when I ran a 5K in Oneida year before last. It’s that “wicking” material that’s supposed to pull the sweat away from your body for a more comfortable run. It is a medium, which is the size I suppose I actually take. I usually wear a large, sometimes with a couple of X’s. I like a baggy shirt, especially when I run. But I thought, “Wicking material may obviate the need for bagginess. I’ll try it!” I didn’t think bicycle shorts would look as good with a non-baggy shirt, so I looked for my army shorts, with the built in underwear. But they’re black, and I don’t like to wear black things when it’s sunny. I found my swim shorts (yes, girl swim shorts; they do make those things). I found my headband (also of wicking material) and I was on my way!

Right away I felt that baggy was better than wicking. However, with shorts, baggy is not better. The bagginess rides up your crotch in a most uncomfortable fashion. My body was not loving me. I felt awkward. I felt slow. I felt as if I had not run a step ever in my life and was I sure this was really how to do it.

Regular readers (if any) know I recently took four days off and regretted it. Well after Thursday I ran both Saturday and Sunday. Yes I missed Friday and Monday, but still. So there I was, put-putting along, wondering what in the hell was wrong with me. Feeling quite certain I was not up to any hills.

I saw a cute little dog across the street. I wondered at first if it was my friend Nicky. Then I saw it was not. Similar color dog, wrong person. Still, that lady might let me pet her dog, if I could cross the street. That would put me on the proper side of German to run one of several hills. The lady and dog walked up a driveway and out of my sight. I crossed the street anyways. I thought I could handle the unknown park (someday I will learn that park’s name and I will be very disappointed to stop calling it the unknown park).

As I got closer to the park, I questioned my choice. The park would be shady, but wouldn’t it be even more humid amongst the trees? Wouldn’t there be lots of bugs, especially on the path through the woods? I looked up ahead and saw the sidewalk stretching out under bright sunshine. Humidity in the bright sunlight or humidity in the shade? I turned into the park.

First I saw a work truck and wondered if somebody was, you know, working. Then I heard the construction vehicles. Oh dear, what was I running into? It seemed to take a long time to get up the little hill into the park and around the corner to where I could see three large machines that seemed to be moving around vast piles of dirt in what I thought was a parking lot.

I didn’t think they would mind if I just ran past them. I wouldn’t get in their way. One back hoe (I guess it was a back hoe; I don’t know from construction vehicles) was scooping dirt, backing up, dumping it in a pile, kind of near the edge of the parking lot I was about to run by. I ran on the other side of the road. That put me on right side, with traffic, and you know how I feel about that (if you don’t know I’ll tell you: I hate it! I don’t do it! I don’t want other people to do it! I wrote a blog post about it once). Still, there was no traffic.

I got back onto the left side when I was past them. Soon I would be into the shady part and on to the path through the woods. A car drove by me. Did I say there was no traffic? Well, I was back on the left side now.

I saw some boys with rifles up ahead. A car was parked on my side of the road with a lady in the driver’s seat. I couldn’t tell if they were BB guns or paintball guns or what. I put my hands up and said, “Don’t shoot!” just to be silly. The lady in the car just shook her head, and one of the boys said, “Hold your fire,” so that was all right.

Soon I was on the path in the woods. It was cooler surrounded by greenery, and the humidity wasn’t as bad. Sweat was still dripping down my face. I guess it would have taken quite a breeze to dry that much sweat.

When I got to the end of the path I thought briefly about running the rest of the way up to the college. Then laughed at myself for even suggesting such a thing. I ran down the road and back home. That took long enough.

By the time I was headed back down German, almost to my street, I realized the shirt and shorts had ceased to bother me. My legs no longer felt like alien appendages. I can’t say I felt good, but I felt like, hey, I did it. I ran. My weight loss goals remain within reach. My plan to run the DARE 5K is still a good one. Wait a minute, I guess I can say I felt good.

After the Boilermaker my main goal was to NOT crash and burn. I guess I can say, so far, so good.

I thought it was perfectly acceptable to take Monday off, but I went for half hour runs Tuesday and Wednesday. Minor hill Tuesday, challenging hill Wednesday. My body didn’t like it so much, but I persevered. Thursday I went hiking in the woods with a friend. Friday I was Too Damn Hot (that’s a song by Cole Porter or somebody). This morning (Saturday) I was determined to not slack off.

I decided to run out Steuben Road, where there is a considerable hill. Must run hills. Steuben isn’t my favorite road to run up, due to lack of sidewalks or wide shoulders, but I figured at six o’clock on a Saturday morning, I would be OK. The first think I noticed was how humid it was. Thick air. To match my thick head. I took deep breaths, telling myself that it was not true that humidity makes it much harder to breathe. It only seems that way. Then it seemed to take a ridiculous amount of time to reach Stueben road. How long is German Street anyways? At last I reached it. Up I went.

Right away I heard a rather loud truck behind me. Seriously, it sounded like a construction vehicle or a dump truck loaded all the way up. I told myself it was OK, though, because it was on the opposite side of the road. He had plenty of room not to hit me. So when the bastard goes by me, it turned out to be a regular pick up truck with a bad muffler or something, and the guy crosses over the center line! Why would you do that? I mean, many nice people coming towards me go over the center line to be further away from me. I always give them the “thank you” wave when they do. Going over the center line in this case brought him closer to me! What was that all about? Well, he wasn’t considerably closer to me. I daresay he didn’t even realize he crossed the center line or was perhaps avoiding something unseen by me on the other side of the road. Still. Some people.

I continued on my upward climb. I reminded myself of mile four (I think) of the Boilermaker. The uphill lasts a long time. The upslope itself is no steeper than anything else I run, less steep than some. But it goes on and on. Note to self: run this road more often if and when training for next year’s Boilermaker.

I looked at my watch. I wasn’t sure how far I wanted to run. I thought a half hour total, like earlier in the week. That might mean I would run up for fifteen minutes and turn around. I didn’t really want to do that. I tried to distract myself by looking at people’s flowers. In urns, on wooden carts, in raised beds made of bricks. I really must do more with my lawn next year. Sweat was dripping off my face. No breeze relieved my pain. At last I looked to my left, across two back yards and saw the road I would be running down as soon as I got to it. It couldn’t be long now.

When I got to Highland Avenue (I think that’s what it’s called), I thought briefly about going on the next road, which I believe comes out at a similar place. Then I remembered encountering an unchained dog on that road. He probably had that invisible fencing, but you never know. I turned onto Highland.

And was immediately barked at by a big dog. He was behind a fence, though, so I thought I was OK. He was big enough to jump over the fence, but not all breeds are inclined or able to jump. I told him I was leaving right away. He was unimpressed. Then I saw a lady on a porch across the street, so I said good morning to her and wondered if she had heard me talking to the dog. Probably.

I was going downhill now, so that seemed better. Looking at my watch I thought I would probably go over my half hour goal, but that was OK too. Somewhere along the way, my legs settled in and I realized it was not a problem to run. It was kind of fun. I ran for 37 minutes but was not inclined to go for another three and make it forty. What kind of miracles of dedication do you want from me anyways?