Water As Needed

I compose all my posts while running. Running hurts enough these days that in order to complete the day's self imposed training unit I sometimes just have to stop thinking about running, running form, running technique. So my feet move by themselves as my brain thinks up new posts. I wish I could blog directly from my brain, my posts would be so much better (or not?). This morning various things come to mind. In my google-ings I stumbled across an article by a former coach of mine, Claudia Piepenburg, written for Running Times: Masters: Dry Pie.
It seems that a fetus is 90% water however when we die we have shriveled down to 60-70%. Apparently this hurts athletic performance and cannot just be rectified by hitting the Deer Park more often. We are destined to become prunes. May as well put the aforementioned in the shopping cart, along with other clever products such as Fiber One Yogurt or Metamucil (personally I recommend the Pink Lemonade Flavor) , since the dried out ones are dealing with more problems than just being down a percentage point on the water front. Which leaves me wondering how is it humanly possible then to retain water at the same time? Why does nobody address mysteries like these? And should one not, theoretically, run better then on water retention days? (hint: one does not!) Help does not come easily. A friend pointed out to me that the endless market of moisturizing products has gained one more: Curel Moisture Lotion for Menopause and Beyond. No, this is not a joke. Why, my friend wonders, would women want to buy this product, advertising at the local CVS, Rite Aid or Walgreen's by purchasing same product, that the well has, quite literally, run dry? Not that it would help me, I do not need it yet, REALLY! However, given the current state of affairs and with that, I refer to running performance, I wonder just how much water I have left until I have reached the 60% mark. And what then, will I just crumble like the leaves crunching under my shoes?
And why do I, despite this, have a frequent flier card for restroom visits? Best to enjoy the 10% that I might have left before I go. Conserve Water!

Super Good Days

This morning I woke up and it was Monday. Normally, Monday does not qualify as a good day. No sleeping in, for example. The scale, when I step on it is not kind. A day off from sports will do that but for it to happen on a Monday, of all days feels unkind to me. So I'm searching for signs that the day will be good after all. My in box shows neither new nor exciting mails, not even the Washington Post! Am I not supposed to get my: "Your Washington Post for December 8 is here" mail? Not even that? I shuffle around the house, coffee cup in hand. My bird feeders are deserted. The blue heron, a reliable visitor at the lake in the back of the house, absent. No ducks. This does not bode well for me or for the rest of the day. I see two crows in the front of the house. Surely not a good sign. I leave the house to put in my 8 miles of running. As I said, the scale was not kind, now run I must. The first 4 miles are lackluster, uneven, the wind in my face, not at my back and I can't find my stride. Back at the parking lot after the first round I see a black cat, ready to cross my path. I sprint towards my timing mark and the cat hides under a car. It does not cross in front of me. Bad luck averted. The penny next to the handicapped parking space, still face down. I have it under observation, waiting for luck to turn. Same with the penny on the shoulder of the Rainbow Mountain run. How many pennies will I find face down? I turn around for the next four miles and right after I round the curve I see a blue heron walking slowly across the path. That qualifies for a bit of good luck, I think. It does not flee or fly away as I approach. Good. Later, I meet some favorite people, we chat a bit and the day is starting to look less grim. I manage to put in a good effort and even one mile at a decent pace. When I come home, no emails yet. But then they come, and the news is good. I remember that I did see two Red Robins at the bird feeder after all. And when the snail mail comes things still look up.
5 red cars in a row make it a Super Good Day for Christopher John Francis Boone. My Super Good Days come whenever:
I find a penny face up. Best when it happens in an unlikely location, extra luck points for that.
In spring when the Red Robins build their nest at the garage and they manage to raise all their young. Every youngster to leave the nest makes for a lucky day.
The geese appear and lucky days ensue as the goslings are walking around and we can see them growing up. We name them six pack, seven pack and nine pack for the number of goslings in each respective family.
Later, when the ducks have their ducklings, every day the mom manages to keep all her babies, a lucky day. One year all fell prey to coyotes and snapping turtles and every morning was bad as the numbers were rapidly dwindling from nine to eight until we reached zero. That was not a lucky day at all.
In summer the lucky days begin when the hummingbirds make their appearance and start fighting over the feeder. To see a tiny hummingbird in the air like an angry avenger angel counts for a lucky day for sure.
Also in summer days are lucky when we see turtles, rabbits, coyotes. Record numbers of turtles basking in the sun on the grassy lake shore make the unluckiest day lucky.
With fall lucky days are brought by the blue heron standing on top of the roof, pretending to be a stork. Or by the kingfisher who plunges into the water and comes back with a fish.
In winter the first bird to the bird feeder makes my day. Or the bird of prey that sweeps down from its lofty perch on a tree to grab the (unlucky) rodent that failed to race back to safety. A lucky day to be privileged enough to observe this bird in flight.
Many lucky days. Many super good days.
However, sometimes I arrive at the parking lot to go runnnig and all I see is empty condom wrappers and condoms strewn about.
Somebody got lucky.

So It Begins

This is my daughter's fault, she of the diaries, notebooks and blogs, she of the Ipod and Facebook generation. A LONG time ago I used to put down my thoughts in the form of poetry and songs but since neither was well received by my family I shut down the poetry. The songs, well, that's another matter, but only people who love me unconditionally get to hear them. They love me for them or despite them, take your pick. But, to return to the beginning, she put me up to this by ever so innocently saying: "Why don't you write a blog?" Just because I had said that I liked hers. My answer was immediate: "No!" But it got me thinking. During my runs ( yeah, I consider myself a runner) I always think of things I could have said, should have said, would have said. During my runs I save the world, am braver and wittier, more outgoing, more positive, more empathic. During my runs I am all the things I wish I could be. Negative thinking won't get you through mile 8 of a run that hurts in every way possible. Then I come back and much is lost, energy dissipates and inertia takes over. So I'm thinking maybe sometimes things are worth writing down, even if it is just to give thanks for yet another day, another run in good health or to appreciate the small happy moments and fortunes that are bestowed on us every day but that we sometimes just can't see. Maybe to say thank you for a daughter who encourages us (me) to do new things and explore new worlds.
Strangely enough I will write this blog in English even though writing it in German would save me from mutilating another language and from potential embarrassment. But my German self would never write a blog whereas my American self can express itself without restraint. So it begins... (with LEO in the background as my safety net)