Before the snow hits

Some ugly weather is heading our way, so there’s only one thing to do: enjoy every possible minute outdoors before it arrives.

In that spirit, I did what had to be done. I drove to Fort Ben and ran 5.3 miles on leafy, hilly trails, enjoying the warm weather before it disappears.

There were only one or two others on the trails. I had the park nearly to myself.

The sky was blue, and the air smelled great. But I could see dark clouds moving across the sky.

According to AccuWeather forecasts, we’re going to get colder temps and rain tonight and tomorrow. On Thursday (Thanksgiving), we could even get some snow.

So I wanted to get out and enjoy the clear skies while they lasted. The woods were a fine place to be, even though the trees were bare and ground was brown. I trotted along contentedly, chasing endorphins and trying to regain some hill conditioning.

As I ran, I thought that every nice day in November is a gift. Winter could blow in any day, and stay for months. 

Actually, I really don’t mind winter. Running in crisp, chilly weather, through the snowy woods, is a feast for the senses, and part of the rhythm of nature, which I try to embrace.

Well, for the first month or two, anyway. By February and March, I’ve usually had my fill of snow and freezing weather. By then, the thought of spring is the only thing that keeps me going.

So it is with late fall. The run was peaceful and pleasurable. I hope we have a few more like it.

Left in the dust

If you don’t move fast, you get left in the dust.

That’s true in running. And it’s true in signing up for races.

Twice in the past month, I’ve dawdled in signing up for a cool trail race, only to have the race fill up early and leave me on the sidelines.

I wanted to run the Buckeye Trail Winter Fun Run next January. I dawdled. The race filled up.

This past weekend, I wanted to run the Outback Scramble 5-mile trail race at Eagle Creek Park. I dawdled. The race filled up.

The lesson: If you snooze, you lose. Get a plan and move fast.

Just ask anyone who got closed out of the 2010 Boston Marathon. It sold out faster than expected, surprising lots of runners. “Well, I sat on my rear end and thought I could sign up for Boston in December. WRONG! It sold out in record time!” wrote Jim on his blog.

“I never expected it to fill up so early,” someone wrote on a chat board at Letsrun.com.

So without a race to run this weekend, I just did some solo running here and there. On Saturday, I hit the trails at Fort Ben for about five miles. On Sunday, I ran roads in my neighborhood for about four miles. This morning, I ran trails for about four miles at Town Run Trail Park.

It was OK. But I was in the mood for a race. I guess when I see something fun, I had better move faster next time.

Speaking of which, it’s time to start thinking about a race on Thanksgiving. But after checking out the race calendars, I’m not real excited by the options. There are the usual short-distance road races around Indiana: a Drumstick Dash (4.5 miles) in Indy, a Galloping Gobbler (4 miles) in Fort Wayne, a Turkey Trot (10K) in Valparaiso, a Foot Feast (5M) in New Albany.

These races usually bring out a zillion runners on narrow city streets, and it’s just a mob scene. Last year’s Drumstick Dash, for example, attracted 7,000 runners. With that kind of crowd, it’s hard to get a good position or pass anyone.

Maybe I’ll just head to a state park and have the trails all to myself. Everyone else will be at the races.

But I should probably make up my mind pretty fast. Or I’ll be left in the dust again.

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Speaking of numbers, here’s a small milestone I want to mark.

Over the weekend, my blog got its 5,000th hit.

It’s not huge. But it’s not tiny, either. It averages out to a few hundred hits a week since I launched this blog in March. (It doesn’t include my own page views.)

In the big scheme, it’s a little thing. No matter. I got a little thrill seeing the first digit turn over.

Thanks for reading.

My smut collection

Don’t tell my wife, but I keep an impressive collection of hard-core magazines under my bed.

A few times a week, when I think the coast is clear, I’ll pull out one of the magazines and drool over the pictures. Then I’ll look at the classifieds. Maybe I’ll read some of the letters and advice columns.

I often feel myself getting faint with desire.

If I hear footsteps, I’ll snap out of it, and fling the magazine back under my bed.

But sometimes I’m not quick enough. A few times a year, Mrs. Trail Boy will catch me red-handed.

“Oh God, are you reading that smut again?” she’ll ask me.

There’s no use denying it. The evidence is right there in my hands — the latest issue of Trail Runner or Ultrarunning or Marathon & Beyond.

They are filled with glossy photos of runners jumping across creeks or trotting down mountain trails or running a 100-mile ultra through Alaska.

Sometimes the runners have the coolest GPS watches or backpack hydration  systems or $200 trail shoes. I drool over that, too.

But I have to pull myself together in a hurry when Mrs. Trail Boy catches me in the act.

“I, I, I was just reading the articles,” I stammer.

“Would you please get rid of those magazines,” she says. “I don’t like that filth in my house.”

I know it’s no use, but I blurt out a defense.

“It’s not filth. It’s good, clean innocent fun.”

“Yeah, right,” Mrs. Trail Boy says. “Magazines about people who run 100-mile races in the mud. Don’t even think about doing that. I’d never see you. I need your help around the house. When are you going to refinish the floors or fix the porch?”

“Oh, c’mon, what’s the harm?” I say. “I’m not hurting anyone. I’m just just reading a magazine. I could be watching football all weekend.”

Mrs. Trail Boy rolls her eyes.

“You should know better at your age, drooling over those photos like a kid,” she says. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

“But look at that scenery!” I say. “Look at those mountain peaks. Look at those ravines. Look at that finish line. Those people look so happy.”

“Stop filling your mind with that,” she says. “Those fantasies aren’t healthy.”

“They aren’t fantasies!” I protest. “These are real people. Lots of them were average runners who set big goals and worked hard. They’re making their dreams come true. Look! Read the stories! This woman had asthma and clinical depression until she started to run ultras, and now she’s a motivational speaker and a national champion. This guy was a couch potato until the age of 45. And this guy was the slowest person in high school. Now they’re all achieving big things.”

“Stop it,” she says. “It’s not real. Those photos are air-brushed. And those stories are probably all made up. It’s just running porn.”

“No, it’s not,” I say. “I know some of these people. I’ve met them. I talk to them.”

“You mean you send e-mails to people you’ve never met and talk about trails and races.”

“No! It’s nothing like that. You make it sound so creepy.”

“Well, what am I supposed to think when I catch you reading this stuff in private, and throwing it under the bed when you hear me coming down the hall?”

That Mrs. Trail Boy. She always thinks the worst of my hobbies.

There’s no use arguing with her. There’s only one way to win one of these discussions, but I feel so dishonest whenever I do it. It goes like this.

Mrs. Trail Boy: “What are you reading?

Me: “Um, uh, nothing, just Playboy.”

Mrs. Trail Boy: “Well, all right, then. Just keep away from that running smut.”

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NEW! AND IMPROVED!

Whoa! Something’s different. Is this the right place?

Yep. It’s the same blog. With a different look.

It’s modern! And bold! And easier to navigate!

That’s the spin every newspaper publisher gives every time he overhauls a design for no apparent reason, right?

I’ve worked for newspapers for 26 years. And every year or two, without fail, every paper I’ve worked for would would undergo a complete face lift.

Columns would be wider or narrower. Type would be bigger or smaller. Photos would look different. The sections would be combined in a new way. Theme pages would come or go.

Of course, the publisher always wrote a note to readers, saying the redesign was done to make the paper easier on the eye, or more engaging, or easier to navigate. The headline would say something breathless like: “A clean, modern layout!”

The reporters knew better. The redesign was done to cut costs. Or to copy some other paper that was growing faster. Or give the publisher’s idiot nephew something to do.

Readers would complain by the hundreds. But it didn’t matter. It really wasn’t their paper. It was the publisher’s.

So now it’s my turn.

If you're not careful, your blog could look this tired and outdated.

A successful blog is edgy, wow, high-energy, unpredictable -- so the experts say, anyway.

As you can see, I’m messing around with the design. Instead of back on white, now it’s white on black. The column width is slightly smaller. The header tabs are gone. I’ve changed my banner photo and the color scheme.

Why? Well, I’m the publisher of this blog, so I shouldn’t really even have to bother to explain.

But being the reader-friendly guy I am, I will. Here’s the story.

Part of the reason, frankly, is that I was getting bored with the old look. I looked at my blog day in and day out, sometimes a half-dozen times a day. The design was getting ho-hum. It didn’t excite me.

But more importantly, it just wasn’t doing the job. It didn’t have enough energy. This is a blog about adventure running. The design needed to convey more fun, energy, adventure and risk.

It’s hard to convey those things in my posts if the design is putting me to sleep. And perhaps some of my readers.

I think the new design has more punch and will convey more of the excitement that trail running is all about. The colors are brighter. The type is sharper.

I’m excited already. I want to stand up right now and go take a 10-mile trail run. When I get back, I want to sign up for a 50K.

That’s what a blog should do. At least this one.

Let me know what you think.

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I took a nice 5.25-mile run at lunchtime today on the towpath. The run was nothing fancy, just an easy out-and-back, to put miles in the bank and keep me going. It was your basic maintanance run. I finished in 48:10.

It was my last run in Indy before hitting the road Saturday morning for a three-day weekend in Cleveland and Akron. I plan to hit a trail or two while I’m there. Not sure where or when.

See you when I get back.

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What to wear?

I like to think that I dress for the occasion.

I don’t wear a suit to the beach. And I don’t wear jeans when I interview the governor. 

I think before I dress.

That goes for running too, especially in November. The weather in Indiana has been swinging wildly in the last week, from gusty to balmy to frosty. It’s tough to know what to wear on a morning run.

This morning was a challenge. It was chilly, with temps so low that lawns were covered with frost and I could see my breath in the air.

Should I break out the cold-weather gear? Should I run in a cotton, wool, or high-performance synthetics?

Decisions, decisions.

I once had a running friend who always over-dressed in chilly weather. Whenever the temps fell below 35 or 40 degrees, he would bundle up in four layers: a T-shirt, a turtleneck, a sweatshirt and a coat.

 Then we would go running, and within 15 minutes, he would start swearing and shedding layers. He never learned.

But I learned from his mistakes. To this day, I’d rather under-dress than over-dress. When you’re running, you’re generating heat. Keep moving, and you’ll warm up soon enough.

So after mulling it over for a minute, I went for the “kind-of cold weather” gear. I wore a short-sleeve shirt, a wind jacket, nylon shorts, a cotton hat and Smart Wool gloves.

Would it be the right choice? There was only one way to find out. Start running.

I was just a tad chilly when I started off at about 7:30 a.m., running through the neighborhood. But within a half-mile, was feeling good, enjoying the crisp air on my face and legs. The air felt good in my lungs, too.

At one point, I passed a walker who was bundled up in long pants, shirt and a hooded sweatshirt. He took one look at my exposed legs and said: “You’re brave.”

I laughed, but I didn’t share his opinion. If I had worn long running pants, I would been burning up. I don’t get out long pants until the temps get under 25 degrees. Otherwise, I’m just taking a lot of extra material out for a run without a good reason.

I ran down the road, here and there, sticking to the quiet roads, avoiding the main streets. It was a good run, about five miles. My time was 44:38.

Then I came home, washed up and got dressed for work.

Uh oh, now it was time for the second clothing decision of the day. Coat and tie? Golf shirt? Something in between?

I chose an open-necked Oxfort shirt, Dockers, loafers and no tie. Hey, I’m just writing at my desk today. I don’t have to dress up for the governor.

You have to dress for the occasion, I always say.

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Another reason to love November

November is a great month to be alive. Why do I like it? Let’s count the ways.

1) Cool, crisp weather, great for running.

2) Some of the best meteor showers of the year, known as the Leonids, occur in mid-November. I like sky shows.

3) Elections are held in November. As a former poli sci student, Congressional page, and news junkie, I’ve always loved Election Day.

4) National Adoption Day is Nov. 1. How could I not salute that, having adopted two sons?

5) Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year. It’s a chance to count your blessings, maybe run a race, eat some wonderful food, enjoy a piece or two of pie, and see family and friends. Plus it’s not as stressful as Christmas.

Yep, all those things are good.

But here’s another awesome thing about November.

It’s the month when the horse trail at Fort Harrison State Park is finally open to hikers and runners. The long wait is over.

That’s right. From April through October, the horse trail is closed to pedestrians. Horseback riders get to  hog the trail to themselves.

But from November through March, the riding season is over. The horses spend the winter in their barns or wherever, and trail runners in Indy get another three miles of wooded trails to run.

It’s reason enough to celebrate. Especially since I grouse all summer about the trail being reserved for horse-riding only.

So today, before work, I drove out to Fort Harrison and ran all the trails — including, of course, the horse trail. It’s a scenic trail through the woods with a couple of creek crossings and enough rolling hills to give you a workout.

Of course, I had to watch my step. Just a week or two ago, horses were using these trails, and they left plenty of souvenirs.

I had the trail mostly to myself. I counted just one other person, an older guy hiking the trail, near the creek. We laughed about how nice it was to use this trail again.

Yes, when you live in Central Indiana, you don’t have a lot of trails to choose from. You have to rejoice when a new one opens, even for a few months. 

I trotted along, enjoying the sights of November and breathing in the cool air. Before I know it, winter will be here. November is a time to appreciate the last few weeks of fall.

Today, it was a great way to spend an hour and 10 minutes.

Here’s to ya, November.

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By law, Thanksgiving always falls on the fourth Thursday of November.

But this year, for me anyway, it will fall on the third Sunday of November.

That’s right, Thanksgiving is coming nearly two weeks early.

Through some odd confluence of factors, mostly involving vacation schedules, my parents are holding Thanksgiving this Sunday at their house in Cleveland.

Yep,  Thanksgiving on Sunday, eleven days before the official holiday.

I just learned about it two days ago. Mrs. Trail Boy and I are scrambling to get to Ohio this weekend to make it happen. Actually, I’m grateful. I didn’t think I would be able to see my family this Thanksgiving, due to vacation schedules at work. I was planning to spend Thanksgiving weekend in Indiana.

Now, I’ll get to see family and friends. And of course, my beloved Ohio trails. I’m not sure when or where I’ll run them, or if I’ll manage to connect with old running friends. 

And when I get back to Indiana, we’ll still be able to celebrate the real Thanksgiving, a week or so later.

What’s the only thing better than one Thanksgiving?

Two Thanksgivings.

I’m giving thanks already.

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My box of medals

What do you do with a boxful of running medals?

Over the past half-dozen years, I have accumulated 15 or 20 medals for finishing one race or another. For years, I had no idea what to do with them. So I just tossed them in a box under  my bed.

Some people have nice displays in a trophy room, with all their cool medals and trophys and plaques. I’ve never been that organized. Or that athletic.

If I had a Boston Marathon medal (or two), I would build the nicest trophy case you ever saw, and display the medal in a prominent place, under a shining light.

I don’t have a Boston medal (yet). But I have a bunch of medals from other races. Each of them means something to me. I trained hard for them. I ran tough races – like a trail marathon in the snow, or a hilly 50K that never seemed to end, or a 50-mile relay through swamps and prickly bushes.

Of course, there were a bunch of challenging marathons, too. Some of the races made me jump for joy at the finish line. Some of them made me pull my hair in disappointment.

But they all have a story. And they really don’t belong in a box under a bed.

This weekend, I gave the box another look. Here’s what I found:

I wanted to get a better look. So I dumped all the medals on the bed, and arranged them, more or less.

This is what it looked like:

So then what? I pushed them into the box and forgot about them for a while.

Then on Saturday afternoon, I drove my older son to tae-kwon-do lessons, a few miles away. I had an hour to kill while he practiced his punches and kicks and bowing and such. So I walked over to a Dollar Store a few doors away and found a few sets of wooden pegs. And a light went on over my head. Maybe I could use them to hang my medals on the wall.

They wooden pegs were a little beat up. But I bought them, took them home, gave them a coat of dark-blue paint and let them dry overnight.

Then today, I hung them in a downstairs hall. And I put as many of my medals on them as I could fit — 16.  Here’s how it looks:

It’s not a top-notch decorating job. But it’s a start. And it might encourage me to run a few more long races, and collect some more cool medals.

I still have about five medals in my box. I’ll have to keep an eye out for more wooden hooks in the Dollar Store.

It’s fun to walk past that hallway now, and glance at the medals. As I said, each race has a memory.

Now my memories are out from under the bed and on the wall.

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I’m glad to report that I’m starting to regain my energy and strength, after a week of feeling lousy.

I ran for about four miles today at Town Run Trail Park, my first run in over a week. It was a beautiful fall day, with temps in the high 70s and leaves all over the ground.

The park was filled with hundreds of runners, hikers and mountain bikers. Funny how unseasonably nice weather will bring people out of the woodwork.

I saw a few people I knew. We were all in heaven, enjoying the trails and the outdoors on a beautiful day.

I ran a little stiff-legged, trying to feel my way back after all this time off my feet. I didn’t push hard. “Nice and easy” was the order of the day.

I finished my run in 39 minutes, came home, had lunch, and then got to work on some chores — painting the last half-dozen shutters, a project that has kept me busy for the last three weekends.

I got the job done. Now the house looks nice and sharp.

Isn’t it something, how beautiful weather and endorphins will make everything just super-wonderful all the time?

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My first DNS

What's the biggest word on that banner? START. That's what 6,000 people did. Trail Boy wasn't one of them. This was my first DNS.

This is the story of sick little Trail Boy, and the race he didn’t run.

On Friday evening, I set out my running stuff. I pinned my number to my shirt and laced my chip to my shoe.

Then I set the alarm for 5:30 a.m. and went to sleep.

When the alarm went off this morning, I felt as if I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. My head was heavy. My bones were tired.

After a week of low energy, a cough, sore throat and mild fever, my body was protesting the thought of a long race — in this case, the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon.  I was registered to run the half-marathon.

I thought about getting dressed and driving downtown and walking a few blocks to the starting line. But just the thought of it exhausted me.

I didn't need this after all.

Sometimes, you have to listen to your body. This was one of those times.

I rolled over and went back to sleep for another three hours.

It would have been nice to run a half-marathon today. But it would have been awful to stumble through one, with no energy and dead legs.

So for the first time ever, I pulled a DNS. I did not start.

I believe I did the right thing. And even though I wasted $70 in registration fees, I think it all evened out.

Here is why: Last year, I ran this marathon as a bandit. Well, not the whole race. I ran 19 miles as a training run for the Tecumseh Trail Marathon in December.

I ran without a number, jumping in at mile five, and kept a friend company for several miles, then ran on my own for most of the race.

I didn’t touch the water or the Gatorade or any goodies. I didn’t enter the finish area. I jumped out of the race at mile 24, just a couple blocks from my car.

I don’t believe I messed up anyone’s race. But I still ran without paying, and that was, well, probably wrong.

So I will view this year’s $70 fee as a payback for last year’s bandit run.

Things have a way of evening out.

And I avoided a near-certain DNF (did not finish).

That’s easy when you DNS.

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Even though the race didn’t work out for me, the marathon expo did.

I was walking through the expo, at the Indianapolis Convention Center, when I saw a booth for my favorite running publication, Marathon & Beyond.

My "Marathon & Beyond" loot.

There was a nice display at the booth, including a dozen or so recent issues. Since I inadvertantly let my subscription lapse earlier this year, I picked up the most recent issue and thumbed through it.

To my surprise, on page 32, I found a feature story on someone I knew, ultrarunner Connie Gardner of Medina, Ohio.

I’ve interviewed Connie a few times, including for a long feature story in the Akron Beacon Journal in January 2005.

The story talked about Connie’s latest exploits, including several 100-mile races, 24-hour races, how she works as a lifeguard and a running coach and other superwoman stuff.

I pulled out my wallet, and was about to pay $6 for the issue, when a saleswoman at the booth told me that if I renewed my subscription for $30, I could take two recent issues with me for free. Plus I could pick out a free wind jacket.

This looked like the perfect sweetener. I signed the dotted line with a smile.

I came home with my loot. (Other expo swag included chocolate drink that my boys loved, a ski hat and chapstick.)

Mrs. Trail Boy, bless her Irish heart, took one look at my kelly-green wind jacket and said: “Now you have something to wear on St. Patrick Day.”

Ready, set, sneeze

Will I find the strength to run a half-marathon on Saturday?

I’m sneezing and sniffling. I have a mild fever, and am generally feeling wrung-out.

I’ve been feeling like this for a few days. I even took yesterday as a sick day to rest. 

What a time to get the flu. I haven’t run a step since Saturday’s 5-mile race in Irvington.

Will I miraculously recover? If I were a weatherman, I’d say the outlook is cloudy, with variable conditions.

The race is the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon. I registered for the half-marathon a few weeks ago, and $70, it wasn’t cheap. So I hate to throw the money away.

But running 13 miles when you have a fever can make for a very long morning.

Tomorrow, I will go to the expo, get my number and T-shirt and soak in the energy. Perhaps that will give me enough oomph to run this race.

Well, if I can’t run it, I can always take a virtual run. Check out this video to see the course:

For the beauty of the earth

It’s a new day, a new week, a new month.

But some things are always in style. So it’s time to hit the trails, and enjoy the beauty of the earth.

No, I didn’t run today. I’m still gimpy from yesterday’s race, and I don’t want to push my luck . So I did a lot of stretching and a lot of walking.

Where did I walk? You guessed it.  Trails — in this case, with the family, on a three-mile loop at Starkey Park in Zionsville, about 20 minutes away.

This is the site of the famed Anti-Mini Marathon, my favorite spring race, a no-frills alternative to the over-hyped Indy Mini Marathon in May.

My older son, Steven, is considering running the Anti-Mini with me next spring. So this morning, right after breakfast, we went out today on a familiarization walk, along with Jake and Mrs. Trail Boy.

It was a beautiful morning: clear skies, 50-degree air, no wind. We hiked and gabbed and had a wonderful time. The boys also climbed a tree or two. It was one of those days made to order. It gave us all a shot of joy.

So you’re saying: “What about church, Trail Boy?”

Well, some days you find holy ground in church. And some days you find it with your family in the woods.

Today was just a day for enjoying the beauty of the earth.

Jake starts up a tree. Steven waits his turn.

Jake: "Is this far enough?" Steven: "Turn around and keep going."

The Eagle Creek runs along the trail, and through a few underpasses.