Back Road Peace, Dark Wood and Rebirth

Runners are creatures of habit. For the past 10 years, I have had known running routes mapped out in my head. When I walk out the front door, I know specific routes from two miles to 20 miles and everything in between. I know where to turn around for a 10 mile route. I've tread many of them many times.

Saturday I ran a new route, on a new road. It's a road I've driven and been driven on since before kindergarten, with friends that have lived down it. But I had never run it. Back roads, tree-lined, almost full shade. During a 6-mile run, two cars and a tractor passed. Some deer. The tail end of a fox making scarce. I went without music; the roads are narrow and I didn't want to end up an unwitting hood ornament.

There is a peace on running a back country road that exists nowhere else. Most of my road miles have been run on Oxford Road or St. Michaels Road, with cars and trucks whirring past. Or through Easton with small town hustle all around.

Saturday was a reset button. A new route. Solace. Back road peace.

Dark Wood. Tree-lined roads lead my mind to Dante. After studying the Inferno in college, Dante's dark wood has stuck with me.

Midway in the journey of our life
I came to myself in a dark wood,
for the straight way was lost.
Ah, how hard it is to tell
the nature of that wood, savage, dense and harsh --
the very thought of it renews my fear!
It is so bitter death is hardly more so.
But to set forth the good I found
I will recount the other things I saw.
How I came there I cannot really tell,
I was so full of sleep
when I forsook the one true way.

Dante gives us the perfect losing our way metaphor. The opening lines to the most poetic mid-life crisis in history. I have a framed print of Dante and his guide Virgil navigating the dark wood together.

I frequently have those dark wood moments. I wonder if I am on the right path; I wonder if I am lost or have wandered astray; I wonder; I wander. My paths are more meandering than direct. Rather than the one true path, I often feel like mine is a singletrack trail or a country back road. Where do back roads lead?

Rebirth. Spring gets all the credit for new life and rebirth. It's the easy sell. But fall has always been my season for rebirth. Each fall is a new school year. A new grade for the girls, the clock turned back to zero, on top of the foundations they have built in the past years. New teachers. And new students for teachers.

Cooler weather, sloughing off the tired heat of summer. Needing to pull on a sweatshirt or sweater in the evening. Stout beer salivating. My energy usually resets in the fall as well. Fall races for our running peeps. Field hockey for the girls. Football taking over Sunday televisions.

For me, fall is about rebirth. It's about new running routes. It's about reconnecting and navigating the dark wood in the journey of our life. Dante will tell you about it. But nobody named a football team after the Divine Comedy.

(The Lighter Side of) Running in the Dark

Mike V. and Derek Hills await the down stream float/swim of the rest of the Rise Up Runners crew during a 10-mile trail run at Tuckahoe State Park after serious flooding. Photo by Joel Shilliday.

I run in the dark. Sometimes that is a metaphor. There are plenty of life examples when I feel like I am cruising along with only a narrowly illuminated view of what's going on around me. And I push ahead, running into the sunrise, hoping for a brief glimpse into the bigger scheme of things.

Mostly that doesn't happen. And running in the dark is just running in the dark. But it is enough. Though it's cool when it happens, running does not open up in "a-ha" moments too frequently. Some runs feel good, some hurt. Some runs are with a group and some are solo. The only thing I have any control over is getting up, drinking coffee, and getting out the door for a run. In the dark.

There is something to running out from under the streetlights in town and getting onto Oxford Road, where the light pollution fades and the stars pop. There is something to being out and active before most people are awake. I dig it. But I don't run in the dark for just those reasons.

My wife is a teacher and our two girls are in 2nd grade and Pre-K. They play soccer and take dance some afternoons. When I leave in the morning, they are asleep and they are generally still sleeping when I get home. Our schedules don't allow for the convenience of after work runs. Plus, I don't want to miss time with the girls. So I run in the dark by necessity. It won't happen otherwise.

It's a lot easier when I know I am meeting other folks. I don't want to be the one that leaves folks hanging, especially when some of our runners drive some distance to meet at 5 a.m. It motivates me to know there are other folks rolling out of bed to meet for a run. That's the reason our Rise Up Runners group got together.

Then there is the feeling of knowing the run is in the books. Banked for the day. Granted, coffee, tea, and/or a kick in the pants is sometimes necessary in the late afternoon, but my body (and mind) have adapted and now even look forward to running in the dark. It's become a part of running and a part of me. I wouldn't change it. Except maybe to have some trails closer by...:)

30-Mile Weekend

The sunrise over wetlands along Oxford Road, as seen on a longboard Saturday morning.

I got lucky. I don't normally take to the roads both mornings of a weekend. So racking up a conservative 30 miles, likely 50K, over the course of two days was a treat.

Saturday morning was cold. The Weather Channel warned something like 20 degrees, colder with wind chill. But it doesn't take long to learn that cold is not nearly so debilitating as wind on a longboard. And since the wind slept in, Charlie, Landy and I opted to head out. The plan was to meet in Easton behind Coffee East at 5 a.m.

Running early, I've often thought there's not much cooler than running to an ipod infused soundtrack to a sleeping town. The pre-sunrise morning offers the sublime to those who will go find it. But pumping and cruising up Washington Street listening to Bob Marley and Jimi Hendrix, the trek on a longboard surpassed the "coolness" of a morning run.

We donned headlamps and vests and had the town to ourselves, aiming up Oxford Road. Prior to sun up, you can pretty well own the road, not relegated to only the bike lane. It makes it easy to get into a groove and hone in long distance pumping technique.

We've been running in the mornings long enough now that motorists may have become accustomed to high beams hitting reflective vests on their way to town. I can tell you, they are not accustomed to grown men on skateboards coming at them. I can guess that we have become the subject of confused cell phone discussions or what seemed a lack of caffeine-induced hallucination.

I loaded my backpack with a couple bottles of Propel, which make for tasty slushies, a Balance bar, which was too frozen to eat, and thankfully a camera for the trip. Catching a sunrise during a long trek with friends is one of the key reasons to run or skate early.

After a good out-and-back route on Oxford Road, we returned to hit a bit of Easton, ending up on Rails to Trails, a stretch unencumbered by cars, except for street crossings. Both routes (Oxford Road and Rails to Trails) will likely be incorporated into our upcoming Ultra Skate on March 21.

Landy and Charlie nearing the North Easton Sports Complex at the northern end of Rails to Trails.

The end of our trek found me at 18.5 miles, based on Landy's GPS, which marks my longest longboard session to date.

Longboarding, a cold a couple weeks ago, swimming and cross training have cut into my running time, so I was determined to get a 10 to 12-mile run in on Sunday. Rain was likely and did in fact join us for our run. I slept in, slugged back some coffee, waited for the ladies of the house to get up and get straight and ran up to the YMCA to meet RUR peeps Joel Shilliday, Dominic Szwaja, and Dan Bieber. The goal was to explore the trails of the Cooke's Hope development and see where the trails led once across the foot bridge over Peachblossom Creek.

The rain took a backseat to conversation, exploration, and taking in the newer development along Llandaff Road. Dan and Dominic are notoriously speedy, so it kept the pace honest, especially given my lack of running. Dan peeled off at the Y, Joel at his crib, and Dominic joined me for a stretch of Rails to Trails. In the end, I logged about 12.5 miles or so at roughly an average of 8:3o pace.

30+ miles in two days, on longboard and on foot, enjoying the mornings and my Rise Up Runner friends. It sets the tone for the rest of the day. It helps me test myself. And the by-product is that it gets me closer to being ready for Ultra Skate and the Trail Dawgs in March and April.

Rise Up Runners?

On Easter morning we ran by moonlight around Easton. I was out the door and running to rendezvous with our pre-dawn running crew at 4:40 a.m. Photo courtesy of Sky & Telescope magazine.

I have always enjoyed the borderline sanity that can accompany distance running. I like doing things that most people shake their heads at or do a double-take. Of late, that includes running at uncommonly early hours.

This past week (of 3/16) saw runs of roughly 6.5 miles, 7.5 miles, and 15 miles. The 15-miler began at 4:30 a.m., and was marked at the beginning by a ruthless wind and a brief period of -in-the-face rain. I don't think there is a neighborhood in south Easton that we didn't loop through to get the miles in. Total time for a hair over 15 miles was 2:20:56, which puts us reasonably close to 9-minute miles, for the long, slow run of the week.

It felt good to work the distance back up and I felt good throughout the run. Our previous run saw us running the last two miles of the run at a quick pace, under 7:00-minute miles for a stretch and clocking one of the last miles in 7:30.

Then there was Easter morning. I ran 2 miles to meet Landy Cook and Joel Shilliday at Idlewild Park, connecting at 5:00 a.m. We ran by moonlight at an easy pace, catching up on Easter egg hunts, upcoming races, common experiences, and plans for the coming week. After a good group run, I ran home, with a total running time of 1:24, probably about 8.5 or 9 miles, and walked up the front steps at about 6:00 a.m., able to talk to our older daughter, Anna, who was awake and curious if the Easter Bunny had been to our house, and I was even get back in bed before the holiday with the family started.

This makes three weeks of 3-per-week morning runs in the log book, and the start of a fourth, pre-dawn. Since the training race in question is a trail marathon, we've got to get some trail miles in out at Tuckahoe, hopefully this weekend for the next round.

The early morning runs, and the posse (at 5:00 a.m. on Easter morning, three fathers of young children out to run constitutes a posse), has talk of a running group going. Of the names proposed, Rise Up Runners is the only one with any sponsorship potential ;) The natural connection between getting up to run in the dark and coffee is poignant. If our friends at Rise Up Coffee--with two convenient locations in St. Michaels and Salisbury--would consider some coffee rations and use of the name and logo, maybe we can spread the word!

A 3-Week

Tuckahoe State Park, bridge from Tuckahoe Valley Trail to Griener's Fishing Road and one time scene of Mike Keene as "The Horse Whisperer" to a spooked horse.

The theme of this past week's running was embracing my schedule. Rather than try to jam a run in mid-day or evening, when it's tough for me to make em happen, I ran at times when there were no conflicts and nothing else going on. The result? My first week of three runs (roughly 6, 7, and 7 miles) in who knows how long.

This past Sunday was a postcard day at Tuckahoe State Park, with morning temperatures moving into the high 40s, with mostly dry trails and a trifecta of runners as Joel Shilliday and Landy Cook, and I rolled out for a 56-minute tour of parts of the Tuckahoe Valley and Pee Wees Trails. A few mountain bikers and anglers were kicking it on a Sunday as well.

My other two runs were 5 a.m. specials, through Easton, and motivated in part by tying in with Landy for 00:dark:30 miles. Beginning my runs in the dark, wicked early, has always been what has worked best for me--whether Mike Keene and I have been hitting Wye Island with the muzzle-loading hunters, or I've been catching sunrises on St. Michaels Road, four miles into a run. My problem has been the snooze factor, which is combated when you have agreed to meet someone to run.

In stark contrast to Easton at 5:30 p.m., when cars sit molasses-stuck at downtown traffic lights, the town at 5:30 a.m. is empty, sleeping, and surreal to run. I have always enjoyed a kind of connectedness to places by running them early, when no one (or few people) has accepted an invitation to see what's behind the pace of commerce. There is also a sense of accomplishment in knowing that at 6 a.m., I have finished my run, have 7-or-so miles under my feet, and have the rest of the day ahead, which is already filled with work, girls, gymnastics, making dinner, etc.

Tomorrow (3/09) is on the books for a 10-mile Tuckahoe run, likely a mud-hopping run, based on rain last night and today. Looking forward to enjoying the trails, getting dirty, and hopefully beginning another three run week.

Stay tuned for a post early in the week about the new book Barguments, by Oxford native Doug Hanks, and how a local "bargument" that went on for about a year--Who would win in a race, a swimmer swimming across the Oxford Bellevue Ferry route on the Tred Avon River, or a car, driving the speed limit, driving around from Oxford to Bellevue?--inspired me to take on the only swimming "race" I've undertaken to date. Swimmer vs. car, next on the 4-1-Run.