Tag Archives: herkimer ny

Feeling Un-Cool

I’m just going to put it out there now: I intend to run the Boilermaker next year. And right now, I’m going to write a Wrist to Forehead Sunday post about my intentions.

For the uninitiated, the Boilermaker is an annual 15k race in Utica, NY. It’s huge, in any sense of the word, and it’s the most fun you’ll ever have running 15 kilometers. I’ve run it three times. I had been going to run it this year, but I was having trouble getting my training started and I just let myself feel too intimidated at the thought of me and 13,999 other runners.

Yes, they set the cap at 14,000 runners and it filled up in a matter of hours. That’s how cool this race has become. How un-cool do I feel that I wasn’t one of them? Pretty darn un-cool, let me tell you.

I’ve been doing pretty good with my running just recently. At least, it goes pretty well when I run, but I have not been running enough. My main concern this year is to be ready for the Herkimer DARE 5K August 16. I think I’ve got that pretty well in hand, if I keep doing what I’m doing only a little better.

And isn’t that the essence of running, and in fact life in general (watch out, I’m veering into some half-baked philosophy now)? To do a little better.

Hmmmm… suddenly I’m starting to feel a little better. Anyone can improve themselves. I can improve. Now to get my wrist off my forehead and get going.

Could I Be Getting Fit?

I was so determined to have a Saturday Running Commentary this week that I got out of bed and into my running gear, not even pausing for coffee. Um, I did take the time to wash my face and brush my teeth. Who wants to run with morning breath? Yuck!

Steven has a short day at work, and we have plans for this afternoon, so I did not want to do too strenuous of a run. The sad truth is I had not run since Sunday. Well, these things happen and we must make the best of them. I decided no hills and perhaps a shorter run than my last one, which was 38 minutes.

I thought I would enjoy a dead end run, out German Street and German Street Extension, then back down Germany Street, detouring onto the many short dead end streets off it. I wanted to check out German Street Extension anyways. I heard they had some problems with flooding. Of course I would not run where the road was closed. Safety first for Mohawk Valley Girl.

It was perfect temperature for running, not so cold my hands got icy, not so warm I would sweat too much. That was good, because once again I forgot my headband. I could neither cover cold ears nor protect my eyes from sweat running off my forehead. No matter, it wouldn’t be too long a run, would it?

It seemed to take a long time to get to the end of German. I enjoyed looking at people’s flowers and decorations. One house has a fox lawn ornament, a little the worse for wear, which they decorate seasonally. This morning he sported cool sunglasses and red, white and blue decorations. I need something seasonal on my front porch.

German Street Extension is a nice, quiet residential road, as one might expect a dead end road to be. I plodded along admiring the scenery. Time was passing. How far should I run? I like to run all the way to the end, but how long would that take me? I wasn’t going to run all 38 minutes, remember? Oh well, maybe I would. But I shouldn’t run more than half of 38 before I turned around, right? I didn’t want to run more than 38 minutes, did I? I wonder if it burns more calories if I run and dither at the same time.

I saw two bunnies in a yard, standing perfectly still. I guess many predators’ vision is based on motion. I was just as glad not to see any predators. I know, predators have to eat too, but I don’t want to see it. Really, I ought to be a vegetarian myself, but I was not up to pondering the morality of carnivorousness.

I ended up turning around at just about 19 minutes. I saw where the road was closed up ahead but did not go all the way to the barrier. I was at a very well-maintained looking apartment complex. I thought I might drive out later to see how far I had run distance-wise. I could turn around in the complex lot.

On the way back I could see the river, or is it the canal (how embarrassing that Mohawk Valley Girl doesn’t know these things), over the bank. A tiny bunny was on the bank. How cute! I was really glad not to see a predator get the baby.

As I got back onto German Street proper, I decided I did not have time to run all the dead ends. I took one detour down Willow Street. I wanted to check the name of the street that the path over the hydraulic canal runs to. Suiter. I should be able to remember Suiter, and you see that I did, although now I don’t recall if it is street or avenue. Silly me.

My detour added just a little bit to my run time, and I did 40 minutes. I felt pretty terrific as I took my cool-down walk with Tabby. And I don’t feel too tired out now, a few hours after the fact. Could I be getting fit? Awesome!

OF COURSE We Need More Books!

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.

It’s FICTION for Heavens’ Sake!

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.

The View from the Top

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.

Don’t Sweat It

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.

First on the To-Do List: Run

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.

It’s a C Not a K, by the Way

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.

A Pretty Good Hill for a Monday

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.

Junk Run

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.