That’s OK. I don’t like to admit that I know them, either.

That’s my sister, Margy, in the green hat, and her husband, Amo, standing next to her, wearing the Santa Claus hat.

The two muscular posers on the left are their friends, Denise Huck and Mike Baruschke.

And that’s me, behind them, in the red jacket, holding my iPad in front of my face to record all this goofiness.

So what are we doing here, half naked (some of us), for the world to see?

I’ve been wondering the same thing for the last two days.

This was the Polar Bear Plunge, an annual celebration of toughness and lunacy, where hundreds of nut jobs gather on New Year’s Day and willingly run into a very frigid Lake Erie to start off the new year with a laugh and a shiver.

These kinds of events take place all over the country. This one was at Huntington Beach in Bay Village, just west of Cleveland.

Margy has been doing this for three years, and keeps showing up for more. This year, Amo agreed to run into the lake with her.

Mrs. Trail Boy and I (and a few of our charges) showed up to watch and cheer. I also said I would take photos and a video.

When we arrived, a small mob had already formed. It looked like a march on the sea.

A minute or two later, we found Margy and Amo, all smiles, and still nice and dry.

Amo is a tough guy, despite his sheepish smiles. As you can see from his sweatshirt, he went to Virginia Military Institute (a few decades ago) and was a Marine officer.

But now it was time to prove he was tough in another way. It was time to line up for business.

Hold hands, everyone, and take a deep breath!

And then the organizer got everyone lined up and blew the horn. They all stampeded into the water.

Unfortunately, Amo tripped on something almost right away and went down hard.

And a photographer for the Plain Dealer newspaper was on hand to record all the glory.

And I recorded it from the beach. You can see Amo hit the deck if you look hard.

But Amo is a good sport, and everyone had a bunch of laughs afterward.

And then it was time to dry off and head home in soggy swimsuits, in the chilly air.

Actually, it was a pretty nice for it, considering it was January. The air was a balmy 48 degrees. The water was a little chillier, at 36 degrees, according to the Cleveland Triathlon Club, which sponsored the plunge.

About 300 people ran out into the surf. Some went just up to their waist before turning tail and running back to the beach.

But in order to be considered a true polar bear, you’re supposed to plunge completely under water before high-tailing it back to land.

Yep, that’s a mighty cold dunk. But I suppose that’s the whole point.

I stayed on the beach, nice and dry, along with Mrs. Trail Boy.

Maybe next year I will join the nut jobs. It would certainly be something to talk about.

One other highlight: I got to meet one of my favorite bloggers, TriSaraTops, a tough-as-nails Ironman thriathlete. Her blog is cool, sassy and often hilarious.

Unlike yours truly, Sara took the plunge, as you can see from this blog posting. She’s braver than Trail Boy.

At least until next year!

Yep, it feels like I’ve been in a slump lately.

I’ve been running 2-3 miles a day, and not picking up much speed or stretching the distance. This comeback regimen seems to have hit a little plateau.

Then again, I really haven’t pushed hard lately or trained that smart lately. I’ve just been trotting out the door for 20-30 minutes in the morning, then going to work and sitting at my desk all day.

I need some kind of wholesale lifestyle change, so that I’m not trying to shove all my physical condition and injury recovery into a tiny, half-hour window in the morning, and then forgetting about it for the rest of the day.

I’m not sure what that is. Give up red meat? Give up beer? Stop what I’m doing every half-hour and do jumping jacks and sit-ups?

It’s complicated.

Like the man said, un-slumping yourself is not easily done. Hmmpfh.

**************************

Well, other things are more easily done.

Work, for one, is going well. In fact, I am red hot this year. I have picked up a truckload of journalism awards in the past few months.

And because running isn’t going so great and I need something to make myself feel better, I am going to recount my 2011 statewide journalism awards.

• Indiana Journalist of the Year (Society of Professional Journalists)
• First Place, investigative reporting (Society of Professional Journalists)
• First Place, First Amendment reporting (Indiana Associated Press Managing Editors)
• First Place, medical/science reporting (Society of Professional Journalists)
• Ray Moscowitz Award for Advancement of the First Amendment (Hoosier State Press Association)
• Second Place, business reporting (Society of Professional Journalists)
• Second Place, beat reporting (Best of Gannett national competition)

There. I feel a little better. I can’t out-run too many people these days. But I can out-report them.

Most days, I run alone. But on Saturday, I had four times the fun. Colleen and the boys joined me for the DINO 5K trail race at Fort Ben Harrison.

It was a beautiful morning for it, too — low 60s and sunny skies. The nice weather attracted a big crowd, too, at least 400 runners  — one of the largest fields I’ve seen at any DINO race.

This is one of my favorite races of the year. The park is only 15 minutes from our house. I know the trails inside and out, and have logged hundreds of miles on them. One day two summers ago, when I was training for the Buckeye Trail 50K, I ran 14 consecutive loops on the hilly, rocky Lawrence Creek Trail loop, for a total of about 25 rugged miles.

But today, our distance would be more modest: about 3.1 miles.

I knew the boys would do just fine. They are strong runners. The question was: could Mrs. Trail Boy and I tear up the trails, too?

For days beforehand, Jake and Steven made it clear they would clean my clock. “We’re going to roast you, Dad,” Jake said more than once.

I didn’t doubt him. I’m no speedster these days. My leg and overall fitness are still in the recovery mode. I knew I might have to walk the hills.

Mrs. Trail Boy, a longtime power walker, said she might run part of the race, but she planned to walk most of it.

So the big question was: How badly would Steve and Jake beat us?

Last year, Jake and I ran this race together. It was his first DINO race. He stuck with me for most of the distance, but put on a powerful kick at the end and beat me by about 20 seconds.

This year, Jake is 12 — older and faster. And I’m 52 — older and slower.

(Jake is getting in the habit of kicking my butt on the trails. Two weeks ago, he beat me by a whopping five minutes at the Knobstone Trail 5K, my first race of the year.)

And of course, Steven, 15, is a wild animal on the trails. He’s been running cross country since fourth grade, and just wrapped up his seventh season. He gets faster every year.

But then again, he has barely run a step since the season ended a few weeks ago. Like most teens, he likes sleeping in on weekends. Did he still have his speed?

The race would answer lots of questions for everyone. Races have a way of doing that.

We arrived at the park in time to pick up our numbers and do some light stretching. For a warm-up, the boys and I ran to the  top of the sledding hill, and back down, and around the back of the field.

As we trotted back to the starting area, we noticed that the 15K race had just started. We stepped off the the trail to let the runners by.

The runners flew past us, crossed the road, and blasted up the sledding hill we had just come down from. Then they ran across the sledding hill ridgeline, descended down the far side.

The 5K was getting ready to start, so we all headed over to the starting area. The boys and Mrs. Trail Boy cheerfully posed for a pre-race photo. (I think poor Jake didn’t get enough sleep.)

Then the horn went off. We ran down an asphalt road for a few hundred yards, then turned up a steep trailhead, and climbed a few hundred feet. Then we ran a wide, hilly loop through the woods.

By this point, the boys were already out of sight. So was Colleen; she had dropped back, saying it was time to walk. I was by myself, so to speak, so I took a quick photo as I ran.

Then I put the camera away until the end. I would need all my strength to tackle the hills ahead.

My legs felt fine, I’m happy to say. But my heart and lungs, well, not so much. They were not used to this kind of workout. And that’s exactly why I was running this race. It was time to get them used to some tougher workouts than a few miles around my flat neighborhood.

I ran at a comfortable speed till the hills got to be too much. Then I had to slow down to a power walk once or twice. I didn’t want to collapse and die before I had a chance to run another marathon. No sense ending it all right here on Lawrence Creek Trail, for God and the world to see.

I huffed and puffed and pushed my tired legs up one hill and down another.

Eventually, I finally made it to the finish line in a verrry slow time of 31:26 — or a 10:07 pace. According to the race results that came out later, I finished 166th out of 247 runners in the 5K race.

Yep that’s slow — unless you compare it to my last 5K trail race, two weeks ago, when I ran even slower, with a finish time of 39:44. So I guess I’m improving, ever so gradually.

After I crossed the finish line, I looked around for Jake and Steven. They had beat me by a mile, or something like that, and were resting inside the pavilion, eating apples. Man, talk about rubbing it in.

According to race results, Steven finished in 22:09 — a 7:07 pace, for 29th out of 247 in the 5K race.

Jake finished in 25:59 — an 8:21 pace, for 92nd out of 247.

Then the boys and I went back to the finish line to wait for Mrs. Trail Boy. We passed the minutes telling war stories about the course.

“Those hills were pretty intense,” Steven admitted.

A few minutes later, Jake pointed down the course. “There’s Mom!”

And when she saw us, Colleen broke into a run and finished in style. Her time was 39:26.

We all got a drink of water and stretched our sore legs. Then we settled down to wait for the 15K finishers.

About 10 minutes later, off in the distance, we saw the 15K leader crest the sledding hill. He ran across the ridgeline, with no one at all on his heels. Then he descended the hill and made the wide loop to the finish line.

He burned up the course with a time of 53:50, or an average pace of 5:46.

That was amazing. The 15K course is not only three times as long as the 5K course, but it is much more difficult. It includes several very steep hills, two creek crossings, and a long stretch on a bridle trail, filled with horse droppings.

I’ve run the 15K course twice, when I was healthy, and my best time was 1:15, which I considered respectable. These hills can slow down the toughest trail runner to a 6:30 pace. So the leader’s time was incredible.

About three minutes later, the No. 2 runner in the 15K crossed the finish line. Then I saw a few running friends, including Jeff, who finished in 1:04:48.

Shortly afterward, I saw Jon, a friend from work, who blasted down the final stretch in a blur:

Jon finished in 1:05:54, for an average pace of 7:04, crossing the line 16th out of 172 in the 15K division. Jon is a speed demon, about 20 years younger than me. But to his credit, doesn’t mind being seen with an old, slow guy.

Then came the best part. We all trooped into the pavilion for a lunch provided by the race sponsor Qdoba. We loaded our plates with rice, beans, chicken, steak, and chips.

The boys went outside to munch their food in the sunshine.

On the way outside, I ran into Kayleah and Christy, who had run the 15K. They had smiles and wet feet, the true sign of trail runners.

Kayleah and Christy finished in about 1:25. (See 15K results here.)

Then it was time to head home for (what else?) showers and naps.

In a few more weeks, another race will beckon. I don’t know what it will be, but I can only hope that I’ll continue to get a little faster.

And at my current race of improvement, I just might set another PR in about 30 years.

Life is good. I’ve been running faithfully — eight of the last nine days. It’s just that I don’t have a lot of big news to report.

Have you ever felt like that? Some weeks, the running is an explosion of news, a big, breathless story. You can’t wait to tell everyone about it. Wham, bam, you are all over the blog and Facebook and Twitter, and sending emails to all your running friends, and talking about your training and races and goals. You can’t keep it in.

But other times, it’s just a quiet, meditative thing, and you don’t feel the need to get all bloggy.

Plus you don’t want to bore readers with an endless string of “I ran three miles; feel great.” That would be a huge yawn. And there’s really nothing more snooze-inducing than a dull, deadly blog.

But I don’t want to disappear either. So I’ll just keep it short and sweet, with 10 quick thoughts since I last checked in:

1) My legs feel fine most of the time. I’ve been able to run without any real problems. Sure, every once in a while, I feel a mild twinge in my IT band. But so far, it never happens when I’m running — only when I’m getting out of bed in the morning or standing up from my desk after sitting in one position too long. So I can’t really complain, right.

2) I run nearly every day, often the same course, on neighborhood roads. I’m pushing my distance a little farther every week. Yesterday, I increased the distance to three miles, up from 2 1/2 miles. I got through it just fine at a 9-minute pace.

3) My next goal is to push the speed once or twice a week, to get me close to a 8:00 to 8:30 pace.

4) Patience, patience, patience. I repeat that mantra to myself 100 times a week.

5) Overall, I’m really happy with my progress. I’m gradually getting a bit faster, running a bit farther. Eventually, I may get back up to 10-15 mile long runs on weekends. But not if I forget my mantra, and push myself to do too much too soon.

6) Next Saturday, I’m going to run the DINO 5K trail race at Fort Ben. The hills are tougher than I’m used to doing lately, but it will be fun. I think.

7) I finally re-subscribed to my favorite running periodical, Marathon & Beyond. Now that I’m back on my feet, it’s fun to read about running again, not depressing. For most of the past 14 months, I avoided running magazines like, well, the plague. I had no interest in hearing about other people’s joy of running during my misery of not running.

8) One of these days, I’ll get my strong and fit enough to run with a group again, and I will seek one out. To tell the truth, I’m getting a bit lonely running by myself every day. There’s nothing like a five-mile run with a small group on weekends to make it a lot more fun.

9) It’s too early to set any big-time, super-duper goals. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t fantasized about running a marathon next year.

10) That’s all for now blog. See you next time. Your bud, Trail Boy.

I couldn’t wait any longer.  This weekend, I ran my first race of the year: the Knobstone Trail Race.

It’s an annual favorite that takes place in the Morgan Monroe State Forest, about 60 miles south of my house.

There were four distance options: 5K, 10K, 10M and half-marathon.

Seeing as this was my first race of the year, and my leg is still on the mend, I chose the shortest distance, the 5K.

Let’s start at the beginning. A few days ago, I thought: Running around my neighborhood has been all well and good for the past month or so, since I’ve tried to recover from my ITBS problem.

But things are improving, and I’ve seen lots of progress, and it’s time for a slightly bigger challenge.

So how about a trail run to see how my leg handles a little more stress?

On Friday, I took a whirl around the Internet to see what trail races were available over the weekend. A few clicks later, I saw this race.

Instantly, I knew I had to do it. It’s a beautiful stretch of trail through the hilly, old-growth forest of southern Indiana. The organizers do a good job.

I’ve run the race a few times over the years, including the 10M and half-marathon options.

Sure, the longer distance options were out of the question this year. But surely I could try the 5K without killing myself.

I mentioned the race to Jake, my 12-year-old son on Friday, and he said he would join me.

So at 7 a.m. Saturday, we headed out, ready to show each other what we were made of.

We got there in plenty of time to register and chat with other runners I haven’t seen in ages, including Jeff, who recently ran a Rim 2 Rim 2 Rim at the Grand Canyon; and Jim and Vicky, who are longtime trail ultrarunners.

After a few minutes of chit-chat, we lined up at the starting line near a shelter.

Then sharply at 9 a.m., the horn sounded. We trotted a few hundred yards down the road, then turned right onto a wide carriage trail.

Jake, a strong runner, stayed in my sight for a little while. Here he is, in the yellow shirt.

Soon, the trail narrowed to a singletrack, as it zig-zagged down a hillside.

We coasted downhill with glee, enjoying the cool air and the fall scenery.

At the bottom, we ran for another half-mile or so along the creek, and then it was time to cross. We trotted carefully across a moss-covered log. Jake jumped off the log a few places ahead of me and ran along the other side.

Of course, what goes down must go back up. No one knows this better than a trail runner.

This steep, long switchback got my heart pounding. I had to stop and catch my breath halfway up, so I took another picture.

By this time, Jake was far ahead of me. I didn’t see him again until the finish line.

I just prayed that he would make the critical turn up ahead, follow the 5K course, and not take a wrong turn, following the half-marathon course and get lost for hours. (See map above.)

I chugged along, keeping alert for rocks and roots, so I wouldn’t stumble. I also said a prayer of thanks that I was on a trail again. It was glorious, despite my almost comical lack of speed.

But I knew I was pushing my limits. After about 25 minutes, I began to feel tired, and realized this was the longest I had run in months. I downshifted into first gear, and even took a short walking break on the next two hills.

For me, this was turning into a race in name only. I was just tagging along for the fun, pushing my workout to a new place and a new distance. I enjoyed the sights and sounds of the autumn woods.

I ran with joy and gratitude. But I also ran with a lot of huffing and puffing, and even a little cursing during the steep uphills.

In other words, it was a typical day on the trails: beautiful and challenging.

And I was glad I did it.

The toughest part of the race, besides the steep uphills, was a long stretch of gravel road that gave my legs a bit of a pounding.

But I eventually made it to the finish line, where I saw Jake, sitting by the side of the road, waiting patiently for me. He said he had finished five minutes before me.

And he had a new hat. He said the official timer had told him he was one of the first (or maybe the first, I’m not clear) in his age group to finish, and thus got a lightweight running cap with the name of the race.

Alas, I’m sure I was one of the last in my age group (or any age group) to finish, with my pathetic time of 39:43.

But we were happy to be in the woods, father and son.

Then we headed over to the pavilion, where the staff had set out fruit, soup, chips and cider.

A nice volunteer ladled out a cup of hot, spicy cider.

Then we got set to go. Does it look like I made a 12-year-old happy?

So long, state forest. We’ll see you again soon.

(To return to the home page, click here.)

This is the heart of marathon season, no question. Just about every runner I know has just wrapped up a fall marathon or is about to run one.

Since I’m not running any marathons this year, I have to satisfy myself by hearing stories from my friends, and thinking back to my own marathons.

And just for the hell of it, I’m going to recap my 10 marathons. Why not? A good marathon will make you feel warm all over for years. A terrible one will haunt you forever. Don’t believe me? Read on.

1) Chicago Marathon, October 2002. My first and most thrilling. Could I even run that far? I had no idea, since my longest training run had been 23 miles. I was filled with hope and fear. I ran the race very conservatively, waking through water stops and enjoying the sights. Not until 22 miles did I pick up the pace and start passing people. Like many other rookie marathoners, I finished with a lump in my throat. At age 43, I finally was a marathoner, after years of dreaming about it. Finish time: 4:28:10.

2) Columbus Marathon, October, 2003. Now that I knew I could handle the distance, it was time to train harder. I began doing hill work, interval training and tempo runs with Denny, my running partner. We put in serious miles. Our goal was to run Columbus together and finish in 3:45. The race went well, although the last miles were challenging. We hit our goal time, which qualified Denny for the Boston Marathon. (My BQ time was lower, 3:30.) I went home tired and very happy. Finish time: 3:45:58.

3) Columbus Marathon, October, 2004. Could I push myself even harder? I stepped up the training, throwing in a longish midweek run of 10-13 miles, on top of everything else. Denny and I trained again together, but he took the fall off from marathoning, having run the Boston Marathon in April. On race day, I was ready. knowing I had trained smart and hard. I ran strong for the whole distance, never hitting a wall or feeling raw. Finish time: 3:40:08.

4) Cleveland Marathon, May, 2005. My first spring marathon. Why wait a whole year to try another? I picked my hometown race with a goal of 3:30 BQ. But it was not meant to be. I was unfamiliar with the course and started out too fast. I was bummed when the 3:30 pace group passed me at mile 16. I was twice as bummed when the 3:40 pace passed me just before the home stretch. Finish time: 3:42:25.

5) Sunburst Marathon (South Bend, Ind.), June 2006. I had hoped to run a Fall 2005 marathon, but my life turned upside down when I took a new job in Indianapolis. With a difficult move, a new job, and three months of weekend trips back to Ohio, I had no time for training. So it would be 13 months between the Cleveland Marathon and my next one, Sunburst. I trained hard, but in the final two weeks, running in the rain, I caught a nasty cold. On race morning, I woke up with a fever and a cough. Did I stay in bed? No. Should I? Yes. I ran out of gas at mile 12 and trudged through the final 14 miles. Finish time: 4:32:30.

6) Cleveland Marathon, May 2007. For whatever reason, I trained half-heartedly. I did very little speedwork or hillwork. I was 15 pounds overweight. My modest goal was to break four hours. I ran the race with Kayleah, an Indy running buddy. She finished in 3:49 and qualified for Boston. I finished 12 minutes later, filled with regrets and self-loathing. I had committed the worst sin: I didn’t respect the distance, and half-assed the training. Finish time: 4:02:32.

7) Akron Marathon, September 2007. Upset with my lousy spring training, I vowed to get serious. I pushed hard, pulling out the “Run with Denny Handbook” (see No. 2 and 3, above). I was the beast of hills, tracks and trails. I lost weight and put in serious miles. I planned to use Akron as my last training run in preparation for the goal marathon in Columbus a month later. I ran Akron without watch or worry, with no goals but to get the miles done. I ran with Kevin, an old friend from Cleveland. We finished within a minute of each other and celebrated the end of training with a beer. Finish time: 3:49:34.

8) Columbus Marathon, October 2007. Flushed with a great training season, Kevin and I got ready for the race of our lives. We met in Columbus, had a blast at the expo and the pre-race dinner. We killed a few hours Saturday night watching the baseball playoffs in our hotel room. On Sunday morning, we lined up with our game faces on. I was locked into my goal: 3:30 BQ or bust. The first half went perfectly, as I crossed the 13.1 mark right on pace, 1:45. Then the sun came out, my legs strangely turned to cement and the hills in miles 17-22 sapped  whatever energy I had left. I slowed to a crawl, running mile 23 in 14 minutes. I trudged to the finish line 45 minutes slower than my goal, as beaten and discouraged as I have ever felt. Finish time: 4:15:05.

9) Tecumseh Trail Marathon (Yellowwood State Forest, Ind.), December 2008. It took months to recover my motivation after Columbus. By then, I was incredibly busy with work, church and home projects. The spring and summer went by. By September, it dawned on me that this might be my first year without a marathon. That shook me out of my funk. I quickly found an end-of-year marathon. And it looked fun: on a trail, just two hours from my house. I trained as well as I could for three months. On race day, I decided to just enjoy the experience. It was awesome. The scenery blew my mind. But the snow, ice and hills were tough and never seemed to end. I got to the finish line without breaking any bones. That was a success in my book. Finish time: 5:57:09.

(Note: I didn’t run a marathon in 2009. Instead, I ran my first ultra, the Buckeye Trail 50K in July. For the short report, click here. For the long report, click here.)

 10) Cleveland Marathon, May 2010. OK, it was time to get back down to business. I vowed to push myself for another good performance. I chose Cleveland, which was held on my 51st birthday. My goal: break four hours, which I hadn’t done in nearly three years. I threw myself into training and showed up at the starting line in good shape. I ran hard and avoided my usual mistakes (starting out too fast, not eating/drinking enough). By mile 25, I knew I would beat my goal, if I just kept my pace. And I did. I had my best marathon in five years, and felt over the moon. Finish time: 3:48:07.

So what’s next? Stay tuned! As soon as I recover from ITBS and rebuild my base, I just might see if I have another marathon in me.

I’m making progress. Just a month ago, I couldn’t run 100 yards without stopping. Now, I’m up to a bit over two miles.

I went out this morning and pushed the distance a bit more. That’s what I do on Saturdays, go a bit further, a bit harder, as I try to rebuild my base.

It was a blustery, chilly morning. But I enjoyed the crisp air and after a minute or two, I adjusted to the wind.

Here’s my run at a glance:

* Started and ended at 77th and Cree. One loop of Arrowhead Estates, two loops of Royal Pines.

* I pushed the distance to 2.2 miles, up from the 2 miles I’ve been running all week.

* For the first time in ages, I ran farther than one mile without stopping. I actually ran the full 2.2 miles non-stop.

* I added more gentle hills into the course.

Yes, in the big picture, the distance seems modest.

But it’s my rookie year, all over again. And I’m thrilled. If I keep at it, I’ll have my base back in a month or two, ready to do some longer runs and races.

I have to take little steps like a rookie. I have to be patient like a rookie. I have to stay excited and motivated like a rookie.

The one thing I can’t do is make any rookie mistakes. And that list is long:

* Doing too much, too soon.

* Not stretching and icing my legs twice a day.

* Not drinking enough.

* Jumping into the race scene before I’m ready.

* Getting sloppy with form.

* Wearing old shoes or wrong clothes.

* Overtraining, overstriding, overeating, over-everthing.

* Getting over-confident or under-confident.

* Not listening to my body.

* Doing someone else’s workout.

* Losing sight of the goal.

Of course, I’ve made all these mistakes and others plenty of times over the years.

But with my injury, the margin for error is tiny. I can’t make dumb mistakes.

It’s time to be Rookie of the Year. Not the guy back on the bench, rubbing his leg and wondering what went wrong.

When’s the last time you got excited about running a mile in under 9 minutes?

Pretty tame stuff, huh? Well, not to me. Not today.

This morning, for the first time in maybe a year, I broke through the 9-minute wall.

Maybe it was still pretty slow. But it felt fast. And I’m ready to throw a party. My comeback is coming back.

At least, I think it is.

It’s a major milestone. For the past three weeks, I’ve been shuffling along, trying to find my legs, trying to keep my ITBS from flaring up again. I’ve been racking up a lot of 10- and 11-minute miles. I haven’t been able to get out of first gear.

But lately, I’ve been able to shift into second gear, and then a few days ago, into third gear.

The result: I ran two miles today at an average pace of 8:53.

I know, I know. I’ve run marathons at a faster pace. But this ITBS recovery is my marathon now, and 8:53 for two miles is huge. I’m going to celebrate.

How huge? Well, here’s my workout calendar lately since I started writing this stuff down a few weeks ago. The following times are my average pace for 1.5 or 2.0 miles.

11:42, 12:01, 11:46, 11:54, 11:42, 11:04, 10:29, 10:38, 10:48, 9:40, 9:18, 9:18, and 8:53.

Tell me that’s not a nice trend. Well, if it holds up, that is.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get back under 8:00 one of these days. And you’ll hear the shouting all the way from Indy.

And don’t even get me thinking about the 7:00 barrier.

While my friends were out running the Chicago Marathon or hitting trails here and there, I was digging deep for my own victory.

Nah, I didn’t run a race or tackle a 10-mile workout. I just ran my little slow, easy training run.

But I ran a little farther than in past weeks, and I added a little intensity.

Happily, my leg seems no worse for wear.

My workout goal was to run two miles (up from 1.8 miles) and to take fewer walking breaks.

It might sound like a small thing. But as I have to remind myself 10 times a day, I’m starting all over again. This is a long journey of a million baby steps. My improvements will be modest and of no account to any other runner. But I will celebrate them!

My run consisted of two sets of one-mile loops, cutting back on the number of walking breaks and picking up the speed, from my previous gait of (ahem) roughly 11 minutes a mile.

Pathetic, huh? Well, That’s life with a sore iliotibial band.

So anyway, this weekend, for the first time in a long, long time, I ran a whole mile without stopping. In past weeks, I’ve been able to run only a few hundred feet without taking a short walking break, meaning about 5-6 breaks per mile.

So, yep, I ran a whole mile nonstop. Whoop-de-do!

After the first mile, I stopped for about 60 seconds to stretch and shake it out.

Then I set out for Mile Number Two. I hoped to run the whole mile again nonstop, but not seemed to rugged. And, yes, it did. I felt a little winded about two-thirds of the way through it, so I stopped for 30 seconds or so to catch my breath. Then I finished the mile.

Then I walked and shook it out a bit more. Then I stretched and iced my leg.

And that was my big success. I ran farther. I ran a bit harder. I rested less. My leg felt better. Whoop-de-do!

My total time was a 19:20, or about 9:40 a mile.

Slow and steady, baby. Slow and steady.

I will come back. So help me.

Another beautiful autumn weekend is here — crisp air, a few orange leaves, low humidity.

I love October. For a brief moment, I considered driving down to Morgan Monroe State Forest and running the 10-mile Three Lakes Trail.

Then I came to my senses. No use fooling with an injury. I’ll stick with my easy-does-it comeback regimen.

So this was my little workout. I ran neighborhood roads, taking in the sights and sounds of October. I increased my distance — just a bit — from last week. I went up about 10 percent, to 1.7 miles. It was over in about 20 minutes flat.

That might sound like a tiny thing, but it’s a huge deal for Mister Sore Leg Lazy Butt.

And I’m feeling encouraged. I’m gradually doing less walking and more running. I’m running for about 2-3 minutes at a time, with walking intervals of about 15-20 seconds.

Pushing the distance means different things to different people. To me, it used to mean going from 10 miles to 12 miles, or 22 miles to 24 miles.

Now it means going nearly two whole miles. Yay!!

Man, this comeback is going to require a long view, with lots of patience.

Another encouraging thing: I have found second gear. I’m no longer shuffling. I’m actually doing an easy run. It feels so wonderful to stretch my legs and feel a little wind in my hair again.

When it was all over, in about 20 minutes, I did my stretching and put ice on my leg.

So far, so good.

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Watching the speed demons

If Ican’t run far or fast, the next best thing is to enjoy watching others doing do — especially when one of them is my son.

On Saturday morning, Mrs. Trail Boy and I drove over to Brebeuf Jesuit High to watch the county cross-country meet. About a dozen schools were participating, including North Central High, where Steven is a sophomore.

It was fun to watch the boys the hills and trails, snaking in and out of the woods.

Steven had a good race, even though he forgot his spikes in the locker room. Luckily, he was able borrow spikes from a friend who had run in another heat. Steven said they fit perfectly and gave him a nice grip.

OK, boys, get ready to go!

Steven (in red singlet, below), maneuvers a tight turn.

Now the final straightaway to the finish line. Nice running, Steven!

After the meet, the North Central High School team (and coaches and parents) went to Holliday Park for a picnic and senior roast.

Mrs. Trail Boy and I got there early, so we took a 20-minute hike in the woods. Can’t you see she had to drag me onto the trail? I was miserable!

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Some inspiration for later

Another bright spot in a beautiful weekend: On the way home from the cross-country meet, I saw a half-priced bookstore. I jammed on the brakes, stopped in, and spend a happy 20 minutes perusing the shelves.

I ran across the magazine section, where recent issues were selling for 50 cents. For about $3, I left the store with an armful of reading. Hard to beat!