Tag Archives: herkimer ny

OF COURSE We Need More Books!

Posted on July 10, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

I don’t know how well I will do with my writing for the foreseeable future. You see, Steven and I just returned from the Book Sale at Basloe Library in Herkimer, NY, and now I have some serious reading to attend to.

To be completely honest, our finances are not in the best shape these days, and our house is getting rather crowded with stuff. In other words, we don’t need to be running out and buying more books. Who am I kidding? Of course we do! Additionally, this is a library book sale. Good prices and a good cause, that’s a win/win to me.

So we took a drive to the library, parking in the Prospect Street parking lot and walking through the little park to the library on Main. The sale was in the little back room, where Guitar Group meets on Saturdays and Herkimer Now meets once a month. There were several tables covered with books. I was in my element.

At first I did not see anything I had to have, although I enjoyed browsing the variety of titles. Then I saw a Dominick Dunne book I haven’t read, People Like Us. I was delighted. Dominick Dunne is one of my all-time favorite writers. I continued to browse, feeling that if I left with only that book I would be happy.

After a while, Steven told me he had seen another Dominick Dunne book.

“I already have An Inconvenient Woman,” I said. He said it wasn’t that one, but he couldn’t remember which it was. “Oh, here, it is,” I said, spotting Dominick Dunne on a spine. “Too Much Money. I don’t have Too Much Money!”

“Neither do I,” Steven said. I had not realized till I said it how it sounded. I laughed loudly for about ten minutes.

I went on to find several more books. Steven found one book and a DVD of Good Night and Good Luck, about Edward R. Murrow and Joseph McCarthy. We were very happy with our purchases. The sale continues till Friday, so we may return. Or we may make our way to Frankfort Free Library, which is also having a book sale. So many books, so little time.

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It’s FICTION for Heavens’ Sake!

Posted on July 8, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

Full disclosure: I am writing this post for myself. I may not publish it (thus rendering the disclosure unnecessary; the irony is not lost on me). I am pondering my novel and I feel the need to talk about it. Of course, this is dangerous. Sometimes when you talk too much about a thing you no longer need to write it. Well, I’m not going to disclose the story. But I think if I talk about some problems I’m having WITH the story, I can come to some conclusions and/or make decisions. Here goes.

The fact is, my novel has come to something of a standstill. I must work on the plot, obviously. But I have some other questions first.

Ooh, as soon as I wrote that, I could hear a snotty voice chime in with, “Maybe you need to work on your CHARACTERS and let the plot come from THEM!” Yes, there is always someone to tell you how to write. I was about to say, “Thank you for your (quite useless) input,” but, in fact, I am not the least bit grateful (and my characters are actually pretty good, if I do say so).

Enough of this digression. I want to talk about setting. I like a small town setting. A village, in fact, although “village” has such a Middle Age sound (as in the Middle Ages, 1400-1600, not middle-aged like me. Sheesh!). I think of villagers chasing the monster to the old windmill or warning foreigners not to visit the Count that lives in the castle on the hill. But again, I digress.

I am talking about villages like Herkimer, NY, where I live now, or Norwood, NY, where I used to live. Many of your well-loved novels have memorable settings: Savannah in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, St. Mary’s Mead in the Miss Marple tales. I think it is time upstate New York had a memorable setting in a book.

Upstate New York, for the uninitiated, includes any part of New York state that is not New York City. Have you ever looked at a map of New York State? It is not a small state. The true crime shows I so delight in will occasionally cover a case that takes place in “a small town in Upstate New York.” Steven and I yell, “Where? What town?” I wonder if residents of other states feel the same way. Still, I’ve never heard anyone say anything like, “a town in Louisiana other than New Orleans,” as if that were the only point of reference. Oh dear, another digression.

Indignation aside, I thought I would place my novel in a specific spot in the state and fill it with background, atmosphere and, you know, setting. For this novel, I chose the Mohawk Valley.

And I’m running into problems. First I made up a big old house (as in over a hundred years old, not as in “big ol’ house”) with a large yard, a summerhouse and a stream nearby. A murder took place in the summerhouse and I wanted the stream to help the murderer dispose of evidence. I thought I might throw in a thunderstorm with torrential rain for good measure. This is an atmospheric murder mystery, not a police procedural.

So far so good. I saw some other ways to use both the summerhouse and the stream to further the main plot and add a couple of subplots. I started making notes.

And immediately began to second guess myself. Would this novel actually take place in Herkimer? There is a stream in Herkimer and any number of large, historic-looking mansions. I don’t know of any that are in close proximity to each other, but does that matter? Couldn’t I just pick a spot on the stream and pretend the house is there? For that matter, couldn’t I pretend the right spot is there? In short, how much could I get away with?

According to some sources, not much. If you make a street run north/south when it really runs east/west, these sources say, your reader will lose all confidence in you, reject your entire novel and all your hard work will be for naught. I think for some readers this is quite true. If you are not meticulous in your research and correct in every small detail which can be verified as fact, they will point the finger of shame at you and refuse to believe any of your fiction.

I can understand that point of view. I know how it is when watching television or a movie and it’s something I happen to know about, and they completely screw it up. You know, like the school play where they’re still blocking at dress rehearsal? And you really don’t expect that sort of thing in a book. Personally I am completely disgusted with historical novelists who play fast and loose with the facts, unless that’s kind of the point. For example, many time travel stories have our heroes helping history along. Or the “it COULD have been like this” story such as Ken Follett’s excellent Eye of the Needle.

But that is not the sort of thing I’m talking about, and I’m no Ken Follett.

Another school of thought says to go ahead and make everything up: it’s FICTION, for heavens’ sake. If your characters and plot are compelling enough, your reader will go along for the ride, even down a street that could not possibly exist.

I wondered if I should completely make up a town. Then I could decide if a street ran east to west and where the mansion was. I had a couple of choices in this direction. There’s the “thinly disguised” option. I could take the name of a Revolutionary War general who didn’t have a town named after him. Or a Native American tribe. Or a European city. But it would “really” be Herkimer. Or Mohawk. Or Ilion. Only with the creek behaving as needed and the historic mansions where I wanted them.

The other way I thought of was to place a made-up town directly in between, say, Herkimer and Mohawk. Anyone familiar with the area would know there is no such place or even any room for one. It would be like another dimension. A wrinkle in space and time. Yes, one of those suspension of disbelief things.

Well, for heavens’ sake isn’t all fiction an exercise in the suspension of disbelief? Am I not making it all up anyways? I think I’m right back where I started.

What I did was I just started writing, figuring these decisions would work themselves out as I went. That has not happened yet and I feel increasingly unable to go on until I decide these things.

I think my best bet is to just decide. And I’m going to decide on the easiest course for me. I say the novel takes place in Herkimer, and I’m just going to move things around as I see fit. I’ll put a building here, a creek there, and my climactic scene… ah ha! You didn’t think I was actually going to give away a plot point, did you? This is not cheesy movie write-up with a spoiler alert! You’ll just have to read the book.

As soon as I finish writing it.

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The View from the Top

Posted on July 7, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

Having missed Saturday Running Commentary, I thought I would run today (Sunday). I further decided to quit pussy-footing around and go up my main challenge hill: the road to Herkimer County Community College (HCCC). There are not a whole lot of hills in Herkimer, NY, but this one is a really good one. It is steep, it is long, and one is rewarded with a beautiful view from the top. Additionally, it is very impressive to people when you tell them you run up the hill to HCCC. I have not run that hill in a while. It was time.

Of course I woke up NOT wanting to run. I didn’t even try to argue with myself; I just put on my stuff and went, a technique I have often found effective.

Right away it was not fun. My legs felt awful. I was sure this was because I went three days in a row without running. These things happen. I studiously ignored complaints and kept running. It was a nice cool temperature. In fact, my hands were a little cold. After a while my ears felt cold too, but I had remembered to wear a headband so was able to cover them up.

Was it really such a good idea to run that hill, I wondered. Then I thought, why not? I had nothing much to do for the rest of the day so it wouldn’t matter if I racked myself up. I really can’t keep running that little hill by Valley Health and build up for the DARE 5K in August. Finally I thought, just run up the hill for 15 minutes, then turn around and run back down. However far you get, that’s how far you go.

This, of course, was a psychological trick. I knew that by the time I was 15 minutes up the hill, I was going to keep going to the top. I ran by the spring. I thought about how I usually reward myself with a drink of spring water. My hands were too cold to want to do that. No matter. There was water waiting for me at home.

It seemed to take a long time to get to the actual hill. Why was I running so slowly anyways? But it was all I could do to continue. I saw a mother deer and her fawn in somebody’s front lawn. Then I saw another deer laying down, looking dignified. Then I thought I heard a shotgun. Good God, were there hunters in a residential area? But I suppose sound carries. Or maybe it wasn’t a gun after all. I kept running.

Oh it was not fun. What a lot of work to go uphill. I thought about how if I kept doing this I would get better at it. At the DARE 5K, I would breeze by young kids who felt they had to walk. I remembered with some bitterness one runner who I passed at least four times the last time I ran the DARE 5K. She walked, I passed her, she ran, she passed me. I want to build up to where if I pass someone, they stay passed.

I made it to the top of the hill. You knew I was going to, I hope. The view from the top was not so good, due to haziness. No matter. If I keep running the hill, I am sure to see a beautifully clear view sometimes. I just turned around and ran back down. I stopped at the spring for a drink. My hands did not feel so cold by then. Aah, good water.

I ran longer than I have yet, adding more than the recommended 10 percent to my last longest time. Perhaps that is not ideal, but I had to get all the way home and I was not yet ready to begin my cool-down walk. I save that to walk with Tabby.

I felt so pleased with my accomplishment that I posted a Facebook status about it. A gratifying number of my friends have Liked it. I like it too. I’m looking forward to the next time I run that hill.

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Don’t Sweat It

Posted on July 3, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

When I saw that the weather report today said 84 degrees instead of 90, it just sounded SO much cooler. Plus, it was prior to 7 a.m., well before it should reach 84. I could run. It would be great. As you may have guessed, it was not great, but I’m going to write about it anyways.

I woke up this morning NOT in the mood to run. Then I tricked myself. I said, “It would be a good idea if I went running.” You see, if I had said, “I should go running” or “I ought to go running,” I would have cleverly come up with any number of very good reasons NOT to run. But I had to acknowledge that, yes, it would be a good idea to run. I ran.

Right away I felt the humidity. I decided that it was good that I was running; I didn’t have to run fast. This would be a nice, steady, fat-burning run. I read a whole big thing once that when you run fast and hard, your body reaches for the high-octane fuel, provided by the protein and carbohydrates you consumed. When you run slow and easy, your body burns the low-octane stuff, the fat. I have since heard that this was not the case. However, I usually run at a slow rate and if I am running on a regular basis, I find that I am less fat. I spent a few blocks reflecting on this, mostly dwelling on the pleasing image of me not fat.

I soon became quite sweaty and realized I forgot my headband. Then my glasses fogged up. I tried to move them a little away from my face. I have some contact lenses I could wear to run in but I wonder if the sweat dripping into my eyes would be a problem. I’ll have to try it.

I ran in the opposite direction I had run on Monday, out German Street and around various residential streets, ending up on the path that used to be a hydraulic canal. I ran that path recently beginning out Main Street. Today I started at the other end and followed it to Main Street, detouring onto sidewalks when I had to.

I ended up doing 33 minutes, one minute longer than I had done Monday. I thought one minute extra was OK. As Tabby walked my cool-down with me I realized I had forgotten my bottle of water. I took a shorter cool-down walk than usual, and I’ve been hydrating ever since.

I’m afraid this hasn’t been a very amusing post about a run. As I was running I was thinking of any number of interesting things to say, but right now they elude me. Guess I’m not re-hydrated yet. On the other hand, it is Wuss-out Wednesday. I’ll try to be more entertaining tomorrow, on Non-Sequitur Thursday.

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First on the To-Do List: Run

Posted on June 29, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

I had made up my mind not to do an especially strenuous run. For one thing, I ended up taking four days off (don’t judge). For another, I have many things to do today and I don’t want to peter out before I get to the fun stuff.

We had to get up at 3:30 this morning. Since I don’t have to go to work, I had originally thought to run at my preferred time of six or so but decided to get it out of the way earlier. With sunrise so early in June, I thought I might not be running in the dark the whole time anyways. For another reason, I could run before I ate, not eat and have to wait an hour to run. I had a cup of coffee first. Coffee is a beautiful thing.

It was 4:23 when I started out (I usually note the exact time, in case my stopwatch button malfunctions, I’ll still know how long I ran). The birds were singing, the temperature was perfect, and I congratulated myself on my perspicacity for getting out of the house early. I could see a little lightness in the sky and felt happy about that.

I crossed German Street, thinking to run out Main as far as Weber, then down the path over what used to be a hydraulic canal. That would be pleasant and not involve any hills. Really, in Herkimer, it is more usual to go for a run and not encounter any hills. But I had it on my mind today. I wanted to recruit my energies while still pursuing my weight loss and fitness goals.

The streetlights offered plenty of light till I started down Weber. The end of Weber was shrouded in darkness. Did I want to run down a deep, dark path at four in the morning? Then I thought it probably wouldn’t be so bad when I got up to it. If it was so bad, I reasoned, I could always turn around in a sensible if ignoble fashion.

No, it was fine. Only a big old tree made it seem dark from the end of the street. Beyond the shadow of the tree there was plenty of light. I continued my plan of running on the path. The increasing light in the distance was comforting. It certainly felt beyond psycho time if not beyond skunk time. As usual, I kept an eye out for both.

As I continued my run, I realized my folly in waiting till 4:23 to begin. I was hungry. I used that to my advantage, picturing a tasty egg sammich as my reward for a run well done (YES, it’s called a sammich! Sheesh!). How long would I run was the next question. 29 minutes was my last longest time. Match it? Beat it? Take really seriously my caveat to recruit my energies and do less? I decided with no hills and no sprints that matching it would meet all my goals.

The sun was almost completely up when Tabby and I walked my cool-down. I don’t often time it right so that I run in the dark and cool down in the light, so I enjoyed that. And I felt that frisson of virtue, accomplishing the first thing on my long list. Now I can cross out another item: making my blog post. I hope everybody is enjoying their Saturday.

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It’s a C Not a K, by the Way

Posted on June 27, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

So there I was, writing about a minor Mohawk Valley adventure I had and I thought, “This is kind of dull.” It had been hard enough to start, because I am getting a little tired of beginning blog posts with “This day we went here and did this…” I could not think of anything better, so I told myself, “Just start with that and you can change it later.”

I started. I wrote. I was quite unsatisfied. I wrote the preceding paragraph. I spent the rest of my breaks at work NOT writing. I came home and, um, still did not write. Finally, I thought, “It’s Non-Sequitur Thursday. I’ll type in the paragraph about not liking what I wrote, type in what I wrote, and let my readers judge (even though I often say, ‘Don’t judge’)”.

The other night, Steven, Tabby and I took a drive out to the KOA Kampground by the Herkimer Diamond Mines to visit some relatives who happened to be staying there. What a nice setting for a pleasant summer evening. I’m sure the Herkimer Diamond Mines would make a fine blog post. In fact, we visited there once in my pre-blogging days. But Tuesday all we did was hang out at the Kampground.

The Kampground is located across the highway from the Diamond Mines, right on the river. As we sat visiting we could watch some kids cruise by on inner tubes. Then we would see them walk by on the other side of the camp site, headed back for another run. It looked like a fun way to spend an evening to me.

After a while Tabby wanted to walk so I took her around a little bit. The inground pool looked inviting. Tabby seemed interested in going into the laundromat, but it had a sign saying no pets in the building. We saw some cabins that looked nice but did not get very close to them. That is the way I like to camp, by the way: with all the comforts. Point and laugh if you must.

Well, I guess that isn’t terrible, but it isn’t terribly interesting either, is it? However, it is short and to the point. If only I could think of a punchy headline, I think it would fly for a Non-Sequitur Thursday. Hope to see you on Lame Post Friday.

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A Pretty Good Hill for a Monday

Posted on June 24, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

I did not run on Wrist to Forehead Sunday (don’t judge). Then I failed to write a blog post as Monday (today) progressed. Finally I determined to go home, run, then write about the run.

My plan for Sunday had been to run up the hill to Herkimer County Community College (HCCC), a ferocious hill, for those of you who are not familiar with it. I did not see how I could do such a thing today. Then I thought about how triumphant I would feel, posting on Facebook that I had done it. I thought about being at the top of the hill saying, “Yeah, I’m bad!” Still, I argued with myself, it is not easy to cross German Street at 4 p.m. on a weekday. Herkimer traffic can be heavy at that time. At last I decided that if I COULD cross the street, I would take that as a sign and run the damn hill.

The thing I mostly don’t like about running in the afternoon is that my dog, Tabby, is so happy to see me come home. She doesn’t want me to leave right away. She wants me to stay and pet her or take her for a walk. I reminded her that she does not like to run with me; she likes to stop and sniff and frequent intervals. She lay down underneath the coffee table. Ah, she understands, I thought. Then she jumped up with a hopeful look on her face as I opened the door. No, Tabby. I was in kind of a down mood to start with. A sad dog did not help.

Nonetheless, I set out. And right away the warm temperature and humidity did not feel good. No matter, I thought. A good sweat never hurt anybody. And I managed to cross German Street. Ah, my bold plan was working.

Only it wasn’t working very well, because as German Street sloped slightly upward as it does, I realized I was in no shape to run up a hill like the one to HCCC. The hill by Valley Health, perhaps I could manage. Then I got to the gate to the unknown park. I think it is called Brookfield Park, but as it is not clearly labeled, I persist in referring to it as the unknown park (not capitalized). The ground sloped up as I ran in. It was an effort. A good enough hill for a Monday

I have not run through this park in over a year. I wondered what effects of flooding remained. It is not a very extensive park. A road runs up into it and by a couple of large sports fields. I’ve seen soccer games going on as I’ve run by, and once I heard a bagpiper practicing up in some trees. Further down the road, across a footbridge there is a picnic pavilion and some grills. Beyond that is a path that leads to the back road to the college. In August the DARE 5K goes from the college down that path, in the opposite direction to what I was running today.

I had it in mind to run on that path, if it was still intact. Of course, I would not do anything stupid. If it was half collapsed, I would not run that way. Then I saw that the footbridge was blocked on both ends with some chain link fencing, a stern-looking CLOSED sign on the end near me. So much for that plan.

There are probably a lot of bugs near all those trees anyways, I thought. I ran to the end of the road I was on and turned around. My legs were not happy with me, but they did not collapse under me, which I found encouraging.

Back onto the village streets, a sprint across German as soon as I had a chance. How long was I going to run for? 29 minutes, the same as I had done Saturday? 32, to increase by 10 percent as I had planned to do Sunday? Neither seemed within the realm of possibility. I thought, it’s hot, it’s humid, I worked all day. I am out here running AT ALL. This is good.

It seemed to take a very long time to get back to my street. When I was almost there, I passed a neighbor sitting on her porch. Her dogs greeted me with barks.

“It’s too hot to jog!” she said.

“I know!” I answered. “But I gotta do it!”

My run ended up being 28 minutes, which I thought was pretty OK. Tabby walked around the block with me for my cool-down. A breeze finally started blowing as we were almost home. Nice. A shower felt even nicer. And it will also feel nice to hit “Publish,” and know I’ve made another post.

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Junk Run

Posted on June 16, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

Once again I ran after almost talking myself out of it. I thought I would go for that awesome feeling during the cool-down walk again. Today I would run the hill near Valley Health. I want to build up to the hill up to Herkimer County Community College (HCCC).

So off I went, and it didn’t feel too terrific right away. It wasn’t too bad though, so I kept going. I saw a pair of plastic sunglasses in the road, near the curb. I picked them up, thinking to place them somewhere prominent, where they were in less danger of getting run over and where somebody looking for them might see them. Then I realized there was not such a place handy and I had to keep running. I kept the glasses in my hand. After all, no point in letting them get wrecked now that I’d rescued them.

They appeared to be cheap but nice sunglasses with not a scratch on them, child size. Well, I could always give them to somebody who can use them. Really, they just would have gotten run over or kicked if I had left them lay there.

Then I saw a piece of a silver poinsettia plant, that had perhaps come off a Christmas decoration. It, too, was in pristine condition, other than apparently being broken off from whatever decoration it had graced. Having set a precedent, I picked that up, too. I could use it as a decoration on my container garden. I felt a little silly, running along with a pair of red sunglasses and a silver poinsettia, but then again, I am a bit silly. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

I was so busy thinking of my newly acquired junk that I made it up the hill by Valley Health without even noticing I was doing it. Score! Well, maybe the last few steps were a kind of an effort, but it’s a good thing to make an effort when you are running.

Sunday is usually my day when I up my run time by 10 percent. That meant I should run 29 minutes instead of 26. You see, I round up. Then I thought maybe I should not round this time and run 28 minutes and some seconds. I would have to do some math for that. It seemed like a lot of trouble.

My legs were certainly getting tired. I started asking myself, what’s wrong with plateaus anyways? You can enjoy the view from a plateau. There’s always the future to improve. I pictured a plateau but could not see where the mountain went up from there. Then I thought, “I’m not so much on a plateau as pausing for breath on an outcropping.” I pictured myself precariously balanced, then decided to drop the mountain metaphor and just run however long I ended up running.

Up a street, over a block, down another street. Admiring a garden or a window box. Trying to peek into a back yard to envy the screened in porch. I was startled by a bright, almost iridescent magenta sports car. What a beautiful color. And wouldn’t it be nicer to drive somewhere instead of running there? No, no, running is fun. Then again, so is sitting on a porch like that one over there with the padded wicker chairs.

It looked as if I was going to make my time or close to it. I ran by Meyers Park but not through it. I saw a white peony somebody had picked and dropped. That wasn’t junk, that was a poor innocent flower that was going to dry up and do nobody any good. I picked it up. Now I had sunglasses and a poinsettia in one hand, a peony in the other, but I was almost home.

That wonderful feeling I get during my cool-down was within sight. And it was at least going to be 26 minutes. Let’s make it 27! Go past the house, I urged myself.

I ended up running my 29 minutes, by virtue of two laps around my driveway before I stopped. Steven put the peony in some water while Tabby and I walked my cool-down. I put the poinsettia in with one of the plants in my container garden. I felt pretty pleased with myself.

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The Mud Didn’t Stop Me

Posted on June 15, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

Oh, that feeling, that wonderful feeling, when you ran anyways after almost talking yourself out of it, and you are walking your cooldown with your sweet little schnoodle. The frisson of virtue, the warm looseness of your leg muscles, the relief of deep breaths and cool water, AND the knowledge that you have SOMETHING to write a blog post about.

And then the feeling hours later, when you realize you did not write your blog post yet and you had better get on with it. It feels a little panicky, till you put your fingers on the keyboard and start typing. That is when you realize, like on the run, I can rock this.

So it seems Saturday Running Commentary is back. I was late to bed last night, because we went to the play, so I was disinclined for major effort. Still, it wasn’t raining, the temperature was a run-friendly 50some degrees. I put on running clothes and set out.

I decided to turn right down German Street. I would run up Main to Weber and go down the path over the hydraulic canal. This had been my plan during a run earlier in the week, but traffic was too intense for me to want to cross German. It looked better prior to seven in the morning. I thought I would even cross German right at the end of my street and not wait for the four-way stop at Main.

Then I saw what looked like a guy digging a ditch. Better stay on my side of German. Then I saw he was not digging a ditch but trying to clean out mud. We had torrential rain last night and some streets I guess got a little flooded. There was mud all over the sidewalk as well. Yikes. I did NOT want to fall on my ass in the nasty flood mud. I ran on the grass where I could and did a slow, shuffly step where I had to go in the mud. Rats! My best sneakers were becoming a mess! I need new running shoes anyways, but was hoping to put it off for a week or two anyways.

I soon ran into my friend Nicky, a shaggy little white dog, and his person. I stopped to pet Nicky and said, “I guess German got a little flooded last night.”

“Yes, every time it rains, it comes down Renwick,” she said. We told each other to be careful of the mud, and I ran on.

It was no problem crossing German at Main. I negotiated the mud and made it to the path. It is a lovely path. The only problem is that to continue following it, you must cross German again and there is no crosswalk just there. Still, that is no problem in the early morning hours. I encountered another dog to pet on the path, a lovely golden retriever (at least, that was what it looked like; I’m no expert).

“Can I pet your dog?” I always ask first, unless it is a dog I’ve petted before, like Nicky.

The run was not at all bad. I don’t remember consciously thinking, “I can rock this,” but I believe I was, in fact, rocking it. It was no problem to keep going. Shortly before I stopped, I flashed ahead, to when I really get my run time built back up. I thought of when 20some minutes in will be halfway or less, and I will think, “Oh, yeah, this is just what I needed. This is awesome.”

I sure didn’t feel this good about my runs earlier in the week. However, without those runs I’m sure I would not have felt so good today. Rock on, everyone!

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12 Hours Make a Difference

Posted on June 11, 2014 by mohawkvalleygirl

I ran Friday morning (another prior to 4 a.m. start) then gave blood Friday afternoon so gave myself Saturday off. I took Sunday and Monday off for no good reason, although I did take nice walks with my poocher all three of those days. Still, I thought, three days off isn’t so bad. It’s not like, for example, two weeks off (don’t judge). Still, I was determined to run today (Tuesday).

When I remembered to during the day, I reminded myself that I would run after work. My plan was to run on the mini-tramp if it was raining, which I kind of sort of expected to happen. That wouldn’t be so bad, I thought. I could watch a silent movie while I ran. Or maybe Judge Mathis. I could rock the mini-tramp.

As the afternoon progressed, I watched the sun continue to shine. I know it can cloud up in an instant in the Mohawk Valley (“If you don’t like the weather here, wait five minutes”), but it showed no disposition to do so. So I would run outside. That was OK, too. I wanted to run out Main Street and check the name of the street you take to the path over what used to be the hydraulic canal. I haven’t run that path in a while. I could rock that.

I’m sure some readers have guessed, I didn’t rock much of anything when it came right down to it. Oh, I got myself out the door and moving. But it wasn’t very fast. It was warm and humid. The air was heavy and I felt heavier. Get used to it, I told myself. It’s only June. I reflected that this was the difference between jumping out of bed to run and working all day before running. At least I was hydrated, because I keep a bottle of water handy at all times while at work. I tried to feel the benefits of hydration. All I could do was marvel at how dreadful I must feel if I were not hydrated.

I turned down German Street towards Main Street. There is quite a lot of traffic in Herkimer around 4 p.m. There is a 4-way stop at Main Street, but did I trust it? I could see from two blocks away the line of cars going in each direction on German. I could make eye contact with the near driver, he could wave me on, I could start going and the guy going in the opposite direction could nail me. Well, he probably wouldn’t nail me, starting from a dead stop as he would be. But still. Perhaps I would continue down German Street.

But first I would have to cross Prospect, and there were two cars waiting at that stop sign (it is a T, not a 4-way). They would probably let me go, but would I be robbing them of their chance to get onto German? I couldn’t take that responsibility. I turned down Prospect. This wasn’t so bad. I could run down to Meyers Park.

Couldn’t I?

My legs felt worse and worse. They begged me to stop. They pointed out soft patches of grass where a middle-aged lady could probably take a very comfortable nap. I knew I couldn’t really, but the argument was persuasive. I reminded myself that I knew how to persevere. I questioned whether that was really true.

Then I began to wonder why I had not stayed sensibly in my house on the mini-tramp. After all, where is it written that one may only run on a mini-tramp if it is raining? Why couldn’t I run on the mini-tramp any time I wanted to? It’s not that my house is so much cooler than outdoors, but the humidity has not penetrated in yet, as it undoubtedly will soon start to do. Moreover, I have a ceiling fan in my living room. That would have to help. Then the great outdoors provided me with some breezes, and I felt better about everything.

For a little while.

I did manage to persevere, for at least a short run. I was up to 26 minutes at the last increase, but I thought a 20 minute run would be acceptable for today. I will persist in calling it a run. Maybe it looked more like a shuffle or a plod or worse, but at least I did it. And wrote a blog post. That is not bad for a Tired Tuesday.

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