Sunday, October 22, 2006
Running in California. And Photos!
It's been awhile, people. Haven't blogged, read any blogs, or even thought about blogs for the past week and a half. Too busy with work and travel. And because I'm making a concerted effort to spend more time in real life than in "second life."
But I have been running. Oh yes, I have. I was in Southern California from the late evening of Wednesday, Oct. 11, through Sunday, Oct. 15. For play. As you can see from the photos.
Went to a high school football game at my alma mater, took my grandmother to lunch and shopping, and went to Sea World to check out the dolphins and killer whales without having to navigate through seas of hyperactive preternaturally obese 6-year olds like I would have had to do in the summer. The horses in the photo are the Anheuser-Bush Clydesdales. The beer company has a cafe/beer tasting room at the amusement park. Huge animals. Didn't get too close lest I get stepped on.
But I digress. I ran 13 miles in the rain on Saturday, Oct. 14, in my hometown. Starting from my old high school, I ran a half-mile east on old Route 66, then straight up hill for three miles along a dirt bridle path towards the San Gabriel Mountains. Ran right by my old house (wherein live my mother and, more recently, my grandmere), then south, cutting west to trot by my old elementary school, south and west again to my junior high, then south, ending at the high school.
Talk about taking a stroll on memory lane.
A couple of days before that, I ran a quick 8-miler in San Diego's Mission Bay. As dusk descended, E. and I ran towards Sea World, the bay to our right and parkland and a couple of high-end hotels on our left. Doubling back, I did some fartleks, running past other runners, including one 20-something 6-ft tall man, who did not like that a 5'2" woman flew by him.
I said "hello" as I ran past, which he ignored. I heard him pick up his pace to try to catch me. When that didn't work, he started taking shortcuts, veering off the trail and cutting through parking lots and jumping bushes to overtake me. How juvenile.
Of course, I thought it was amusing, and just ran faster, keeping ahead of him. I stopped after another 2 miles, because I had totally lost E. by that point. The trail-cutter made sure I noticed that he ran past me by almost knocking me over. 'Course, it was dark. Maybe he just didn't see me. Yeah, right.
After waiting for a minute or two, I started running again. Trail-cutter was ahead by almost a quarter-mile. I picked up speed and just as I caught up to him, he put on the brakes, and started stretching.
"Good run!" I said as I continued past. He ignored me and tried to touch his toes, instead.
It Ain't Over Yet: Last long slow run. Well, it was supposed to be slow. This morning I ran a very brisk 10-miler with my friends J., and P. E. also came along for the first 3 miles. We ran on the hilly Mt. Vernon trail, the scene of the 20-mile race I did last month.
The plan was to run 9:00/miles for first six miles, then quickening to marathon pace, or 8:45/mile, in the last few miles.
Well. The first mile was 8:10. P. set the pace. Damn him. "You're hauling ass!" I heard J., an ex-Marine, mutter behind us. The second and third miles were around 8:45-8:50/mile, and the rest were way below that. Final time: 1:23.