Recent events

The outcry! The hubbub! The weeping and gnashing of teeth! I know, you've bottled it in so as not to distress me; you've stood faithful vigil, breathlessly anticipating my shy re-emergence into the glare of the bloglight.

Yeah. Most of my nine loyal readers see me every week, some every day. One I live with. Some chat on the phone (the NY scholar); some I keep running dates with (Zip); others I actively pester (Zoolander; by the way, Zoo, gentle hints do not work if I am enjoying a conversation, you have to ring a bell to end the round so I will go back to my corner). You all know my news.

It's an itch that wants a scratch, the urge to recap before forging onward. I wonder whether I would procrastinate less, get both hands into life a little more, if I didn't feel I had to tie every loose end.

Hm. Anyway.

Just call me "Crash."
Here's the headline story of December: I walked away unharmed from a vehicular collision. The air bag popped. The front of my car crumpled noisily back around the ears of the engine block. All humans concerned were fine. I'm... fine... except for this new knot at the base of my spine. Ow ow ow. Not enough BioFreeze for this. Time for a massage and some chiropractic attention.

I ran a lot.
The week before the Nissan demolishment, I got an idea in my head. The idea was "reverse brick." That Saturday, N. dropped me seven miles from home. I ran them at a 10:30 pace. Then I got on the fluid trainer and clocked a half hour at high cadence. Then I ran the mile to the gym and swam a half mile. Then I ran the mile home. Then I sort of forgot to eat until the party that night where I drank things made with vodka and danced (after my fashion) like some kind of wild unbalanced cat toy on a string. It was a great day.

December weather allowed for a couple of exhilarating trail runs and until Christmas was plenty dry for a lot of cold road runs. Sometime over this fall, three miles became a short run. Five is a regular run. I don't know how long is a long run. I am putting a half marathon on the calendar for this year.

I do know how cold is a cold run. 4 degrees, that's cold. I thought it was 20, so I didn't mind. One less excuse I've got now. Or one more pathological expression, depending on how you see it.

I ran fast, once.
Post-collision, pre-spinal knot. I ran an 8:30 mile. Friends, that's some Benjamin Buttons shit right there. A year ago, my fastest mile was 10 minutes. Now yeah, after I hauled my 42-year-old 170 pounds a mile at that speed I was ready to stop. But not ready to throw up. So surprise, there's wiggle room to go faster/farther. Man.

The 2010 race calendar is packed.
Wow, this paints a very different picture from the life I lived even two years ago. I'll embed my calendar next week so you can see what's on tap. Granted, anything can happen (injury does not respect preregistration) — but putting events on the calendar is self-soothing and energizing in the dark days of a long and raceless winter.

Coming up...
The new workout from Trainer Kevin... the best thing I heard at the TriKC annual meeting... three simple tweaks that revolutionized my swim... slobbering over road bikes... and an homage to wool socks.