December 2004 Archives

In A Trail Runner's Blog: The Best iPod Playlist for Running an Ultra Marathon, Scott Dunlap lists six strategies for creating an iPod playlist for ultra marathons. They range from including songs that govern pace to avoiding echoplex during the final miles. I already have playlists for various distance runs. I'll now have to create one for the 50K Chubb Trail Run which I plan to run this coming spring.

I've written before about how I'd like to have Bluetooth capability on my iPod so I could record thoughts and lines for poems while running. Scott's entry has made me think about poems I could put on my iPod, poems I could listen to for mental stamina when the road or trail gets tough. One poem I'd add is "Run," by Keli Stafford, which appeared in the 9.2 (Winter 2005) issue of The 2River View. I'd add "Birth Dues," by Robinson Jeffers, only for the first line: "Joy is a trick in the air." If I knew I'd be running trails, I'd add "The Road Not Taken," by Frost, for the line "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- / I took the one less travelled by, / And that has made all the difference." That's three poems, and as I'm a slow runner, maybe they'd last for half a mile. I guess for an ultra marathon I'd need hundreds!

I'll work on a playlist of songs, instead.

As you can see in the picture to the right, the tree is up and lit, but the presents are still in Santa's sleigh. Ann has some stashed away, I think, which she'll wrap Xmas Eve. I have a list, I've checked it twice, and now to the stores. Perhaps tomorrow.

Last Saturday I did hang lights outside: two strings to outline the railings of the back porch; and five strings across the front, stretching from the fir tree on the left of the house, across the bushes, around the frame of the front door, across more bushes, and up down the dogwood tree. When I turned them on, Ruth across the street called to tell Ann how happy she was that we had hung the lights. And I was afraid the lights would cheapen the neighborhood.

I've also sent cards. First I designed it on the computer with Pagemaker, which is much easier to use than InDesign. Then Kinkos printed the card. Next the cards had to be folded. Finally, I spent a few hours in Starbucks Friday morning writing notes on the cards and addressing envelopes.

So the cards are mailed, the exterior of the house is strung with lights, and inside the tree is up and lit. Today is a day of rest--I did run the two races this weekend--and tomorrow I'll hit the stores and put some presents under the tree.

This weekend was the only two days with back to back series races: yesterday the 12K Frostbite, today the half-marathon Snowball. Beginning January 2 and and ending in early February, the series alternate weekends.

The weather yesterday for the 12K Frostbite yesterday was perfect. Sunny. Low to mid 30s. The Frostbite races are in Forest Park, a beautiful city park with minor hills. One hill, though not steep, is especially long, and we had to run it two times. The first time, at the three mile mark, wasn't too difficult. The second time, at the 5 mile mark, wasn't overly bad, though I did slow a bit running up. This is the second year I've run the Frostbite Series. Last year I had to walk some during the second ascent. So I was satisfied this year with running all the way.

I started running in Buffalo, New York, the city with the bad winter rap. Though long, however, and snowy, and brutally cold, the winters are wonderful. They sure don't keep runners inside on treadmills. Snow, sleet, ice, artic winds screaming off Lake Erie--regardless of the weather, you'd see runners on the road, training for a spring marathon or running in races such as Penguin and Polar Bear. So the artic weather this morning in St. Louis wasn't bad at all for the Snowball half marathon. The race course is in the water works flood plain along the Missouri River, where a steady north wind made the low teen weather feel like sub zero. I was dressed in loose layers, so I rarely was cold. Only when running directly into the wind did my face get cold.

I reached the half way turn-around in 1:04:04, where I thought maybe a time below 2:10:00 was possible. That time remained a strong possibility until I reached the last water station, where the water was frozen. I had walked through the earlier stations--it's hard for me to drink while running, I choke--so the lack of water and rest at the last station I suppose broke a successful routine, and I slowed considerably over the last mile and a half. I'm still happy with my final time.

Both the Snowball and the Frostbite series go on holiday hiatus for the next two weeks, starting anew January 2 with the Frostbite 10 mile race.

Michael Hoerman tells about the latest collaboration between Robert Creeley and Francesco Clemente at the Rose Art Museum at Brandeis University. The blog is worth reading if just to see the Clemente portrait of Creeley. Hoerman also mentions an earlier collaboration between the two, Anamorphosis, here at 2River.

I've considered using photgraphs of writers in 2RV, but always decided the poems suffice. But occasionally I come across a writer's picture elsehwere. Heres a picture of Leigh Stein from her LiveJournal.

Yesterday was the Pere Marquette Endurance Trail Run. The first five miles went fairly well. Though sections of the trail were terribly muddy, and the two hills, Goat and Hickory, were steep enough and long enough to keep me a minute or so under my usual race pace, I was at the point almost twenty minutes faster than last year.

But the trail from the 5.5 to the 7 mile marker, the long stretch up and over Ravine Hill and around the slosh pit of Elephant Rock, drove home Pere Marquette's moniker: the toughest race in the Midwest. But I wasn't a wimp, though I almost ended up crawling Ravine Hill, and I didn't whimper. The race, after all, forbids wimps and whiners. And even though Ravine Hill slowed me considerably, I still finished the run this year 17 minutes faster than last year. So yesterday was a personal best.

I'm not sure which is easier to run in: snow or mud. But last year I slipped in snow running down Goat Hill to the finish line. This year I slid in the mud but never fell. Last year I had trouble running down a steep hill stepped with railroad ties. This year I made my way down them, not quickly, but slowly. Last year I had to walk at times through the hollows, but this year I ran them. Last year I struggled and slipped up Ravine Hill. This year I struggled up Ravine Hill. Overall, I did much better this year than last.

Running through woods, over hills, through hollows and ravines, around rocks; your foot slipping along a washout, on snow or wet leaves, in mud; your shoes getting soaked; all of that is much different than running on roads and sidewalks, next to cars, against traffic. Running in the wild is primitive; running on city streets, even in city parks, is civilized. Robert Bly says there's a poetry that appeals to the primitive brain. Trail running is that kind of poetry.