Run DMZ

Sitting at a table for four, then five, then more at the Clubhouse Terrace Restaurant at the Del Mar Race Track , where your horse just won and your margarita just arrived – and just in time to neutralize that spicy guacamole that you generously consumed along with sizeable samples from the cheese platters and fruit trays that are all on someone else’s tab. You can run it off this weekend cruising around Coronado with your training group, injured ankle be damned. It’s sunny, but you’re cool. There’s parking lot gridlock, but you found the perfect spot. You think that you might have told the best “best drinking story,” but you aren’t sure. And you don’t care, not after learning the woman across from you is having a baby girl and the guy next to you used to be an actor and had parts in shows you know, like CSI , and movies you don’t, like some indie film starring John Malkovich. And here’s the best part: on Tuesday, he's going to work just two cubicles away from you – you with the ne...

A story in today's New York Times looks (very superficially) at why older women are smoking younger women at races, while men aren't. There isn't any mention of one key factor for why a 45-year-old might be a stronger runner than a 25-year-old: child-rearing. Pregnancies and early motherhood temporarily knock a lot of women out of competition in their 20s and 30s. And the long rest tends to do a body good, so when they do come back in a few years (or longer) they are stronger in their 40s and 50s. Men might lose some sleep and add some stress while starting a family, but their bodies don't undergo the same significant shifts as the female. See Jane Run. See Her Run Faster and Faster. Hat tip to Sandy at Painted Hand Farm for pointing this one out to me this morning.

I don’t know what you were doing at 3 this morning, but I was among insomniacs admiring the total lunar eclipse. I watched the midnight moon’s radiance loosen, then gradually turn golden before the finale: a Mars-like reddish orb that made its way from one end of my backyard to the other. At one point, I thought of running up to the 24-hour CVS for camera film and sifting through the garage for my magnifying lens. The scene was just so perfect with the calm air, clean skies, shooting star and glorious globe framed between palm fronds. Oh, this would have blown all past and future Wordless Wednesdays out of the water, trust me. But sometimes you just need to live in the moment, especially if it otherwise requires wearing a bra. So I sat there in my still yard, marveling at the universe and wondering if motorists on the nearby freeway were aware of what was unfolding. I listened to an owl hoot and was lulled by the assuring cadence of the next-door German Sheppard's snores. And then,...

I’ve given that Achilles tendon three weeks to heal thyself, and it’s being mighty stubborn about cooperating. As far as running injuries go, this is one that always takes awhile. That particular tendon is a real workhorse, so it can be hard to give it much time off if you are required to walk, which I am. And as sturdy as it is, it’s blood-poor. That also impedes the healing process and makes all the icing and massaging less helpful than if you were nursing, say, an inflamed IT band or pulled hamstring. But I also know that if the Achilles tears, you’re done. Not just for awhile, but forever. Runners do not come back from that one. I’ve been devoting considerable time the last couple of weeks to riding the stationary bikes at the gym. It’s starting to grow on me. Hanging out Friday night with cyclists at my friend Mark’s 50th birthday party, I momentarily wondered if I could make the switch and actually ride outside. Then I realized it was just the Gordon Biersch brew messing with me....

As much for practical as poetic reasons, this summer I took to daily walking into our “town square” to run errands – the post office, the library, the grocery store, Blockbuster,… -- and maybe a smoothie for the road. I was inspired by watching old VHS tapes of my favorite French films, where all these fit and (eventually) happy characters walked wherever they went. So I began to walk when I could or when I must to, you know, leave less of a carbon footprint. Besides, with everyone else working this summer, there often wasn’t a spare car. Then I noticed my ankle ached a lot, and then during a Tuesday night hill repeat, the tendon pain grew intense. I stopped running and soon realized I had to also stop walking. In fact, far as I can tell, it was the walking up and down the hills here, coupled with all the running on the same hills, that brought on this latest bout of Achilles tendonitis. It’s been two weeks now, and all this rest, ice and sitting around isn’t working as well as I’d hop...