IRONMAN FLORIDA IS HAPPENING!

7:25 CT -- It's underway! The pros are starting their second lap, the age-groupers are well into their first.

The race organizers are taking no chances on repeating last year's tragedy: there are over SEVENTY watercraft out there watching these athletes (last year, I saw 2.) And I've seen at least one helicopter (might be the same one in different places.) It hovered over the log jam at the first turn. Boats, kayaks, and jet-skis are wandering all over the place.

One poor swimmer has been off course almost from the get-go, swimming parallel to the shore for quite a while. A kayaker is following him but doesn't seem to be telling him to turn around to get back on course.... maybe that's outside assistance. At ChesapeakeMan, the boats delineated the course for us: if you came close to a boat, you knew you were off; all you had to do was swim between the boats.

Somewhere in there, Linae Boehme-Terrana is pulling long, smooth, powerful strokes closer and closer to the end of her first lap and into the second to complete the swim of her first Ironman. The weather is perfect for the swim, no wind, the Gulf of Mexico smooth as silk (except for the splash of the swimmers.)

GO, LINAE!!!!

___________________

7:40 CT -- age groupers exiting their first lap thick and fast now. I'm hoping to spot Linae: she'll be the one in the black wetsuit.

___________________

I went out for my "long" Austin-training run, 9 miles, wearing my IMFL Finisher shirt and hat to send good vibes to Linae. While out there, my text-message tones went off.... she was out of the water in 1:25:57 (14 minutes ahead of her goal) and on the bike after a transition under 9 minutes. GO, LINAE!!!

___________________

Linae's through the bike checkpoint at 73 miles, bike so far 4:37:54, averaging 15.76mph. Paula Newby-Fraser says it's hot and "relentlessly" sunny, which is taking a toll on the athletes. The Weather Channel website says it's 75*F with wind at 7mph. Pretty warm to be working the bike that hard for that long a ride. "Relentless" sun adds 10*F to the way it feels to athletes. KEEP ON PEDALLING, LINAE!!

___________________

New York has sent out some sad news: a 28-yr-old man, former Notre Dame football standout and runner, died this morning in the Olympic Trials, after running only about 5 miles. What a shame. They said he was married just 4 months ago.

___________________

3:44p.m. CT -- Linae's in!! 7:05 on the bike. Add her 1:25 for the swim and she's at 8:30 total time. A 6:30 marathon will give her a 15:00 finish; 6 hours will give her a 14:30!! I got a text message from Holly and she said Linae looked great getting off the bike. GO, LINAE!!!

___________________

Meanwhile, at 6:30 ET, the Navy is up 8 over Notre Dame in the third overtime, hoping to break a 40+ year losing streak to ND. This is a real nail-biter, even though I don't usually follow football (sorry.) I've been following it today (with IM live running simultaneously) since the 4th quarter. GACK!!! ND just got a touchdown. Now it's 46-44 Navy. Uh-oh, foul by Navy. HOT DAMN!!! It's over!! Navy won 46-44, first win over ND in 43 years!!!!! I have a soft spot for the Navy. The man I came close to marrying was a sailor. I married Steve, though; the Navy guy became a Catholic priest.

___________________

5:36p.m. CT -- Linae's finished half the run and looking at a 14:30!!!! Hallelujah, baby!!!
FIRST RUN SEGMENT
13.1 mi. (2:40:11)
12:13/mile

___________________

She did it!!! Even better .... she did it in 14:19:15!!!!!

CONGRATULATIONS, IRONMAN LINAE!!!

INNER TRIATHLETE

My Ironman Purple Heart plant froze last night.

Last year during the days around Ironman Florida, I picked up a sprig of ground cover at our campground and started a new houseplant. As days and weeks went by and the plant took hold and grew, I pondered how appropriate the Purple Heart was because I felt as if I'd been wounded in the race..... I had nightmares about the swim, wouldn't eat ice cream because I never ever wanted to feel cold again, and felt I was pretty much done with triathlon. As a matter of fact, although I've been running and biking recently, I still haven't been into the water since that day.

I didn't expect it to get so cold last night.

But as I lifted my plant's frozen branches, I saw that there were a few places underneath that were still alive. I trimmed off all the frozen parts and left the living leaflets. Purple Hearts are determined and these little pieces will grow and renew my plant.

It's the perfect image for this point in my life when I have become sure I will do another triathlon after all, in fact the toughest one in the world, yes, tougher than St. Croix, the SavageMan half-iron in Western Maryland .

My SavageMan plans grew out of my frozen Appalachian Trail plans. Those plans, however, are in suspended life; just dormant for a year.

Karen sent an email today about an "Inner Triathlete," a "joyful memory spark that says do it again," and the image came alive for me when I saw the surviving sprigs underneath.

Hope is alive. I wish I had thought to take pictures when I saw the frozen plant still erect and edged with frost, then thawed and wilted indoors, before I trimmed it. But I didn't see a blog post at first... all I saw was a dead plant. The picture is what is left of what was a dark-purple flowering plant with branches 18 inches long. It should remind me always to see the possibilities.

The triathlete that was frozen at IMFL is still alive and is determined to grow back.

IT'S AN OMEN

Look closely. Right in the middle.



Do you see an M-Dot?



It's for my friend Linae who's leaving today for Panama City Beach to do IM Florida on Saturday.



It's an omen, Linae!



Shot it with my cell-phone while I was on the track doing 400's. Honest, this is exactly what it looked like.



YOU GO, LINAE!!!

_____________________

Later:

I've had one comment from someone who didn't see it. Maybe I've just got a hopeful imagination, but here it is isolated. I'm not saying it's the prototype logo.... clouds never look much better than "kinda-like a whatever."

$CALED-DOWN GEAR

So, here's what I have so far, most of it distinctly un-classy, un-fashionable, outdated, "undesirable," but, to me, serviceable. And much of it would have been considered ultralight high-tech just 10 or 15 years ago.

Backpack: Well, I had posted about my new 2.2-pound Granite Gear Vapor Ki ultra-light women's-specific pack, but.... I sent it back. Loaded with 30# of gear and carried around Western Maryland's hills for a few hours, I didn't find it as comfortable as my 6-pound Eddie Bauer pack that Steve got at Wal-Mart 3 years ago. Having learned a bit about packs while being fitted for the Granite Gear one at the outfitter, I made some changes to the EB pack and have gotten it down to 4.5 pounds. My next step is going to be replacing all the heavy nylon-webbing straps with grosgrain ribbon. That could shave off another half-pound. I may or may not get a new pack.

Trekking poles: You've read about my personalized ones. I love Polly's idea of marking measurements on one of them for water depth, snakes, or whatever. I'm pondering her trick of incorporating emergency supplies underneath the hand-grips. I was thinking of bike-handlebar tape for wrapping them. In any case, they're not $150 Lekki's, but at $12 for the poles and maybe $15 for tape ($5 if I use duct tape) they're good. And my very own.

Cooking: Stove made out of a Pepsi can: free. Pot -- a 29-oz. tomato can: free. Windscreen -- aluminum foil: essentially free. Pot lid: made from bottom of a disposable pie pan, with a soda-can pull-top wired on for a handle: free. Pot handle: dog-shedder tool, $5.98 when I bought it for the dog a couple years ago, free when I appropriated it for a handle. It weighs almost 4 oz. but I love it so much I'm keeping it anyway. Fuel -- denatured acohol, costs about $5 for a quart at Wal-Mart, one ounce boils a pint of water. Fuel container: cough-syrup bottle, won't be mistaken for a water bottle (as the often-used soda bottle can be), has graduations on the side for measuring, free for the asking at the Wal-Mart pharmacy counter. Lighter: Bic-Flick, $1; backup, wooden matches ($1 for 250, only take a few) or book matches (free.) For storage/carrying, everything but the fuel packs into the pot/can.

Clothing: I did spring for honest rain gear. Marmot Precip top ($99) and pants ($70), waterproof, windproof, breathable. They don't have to be saved for rain, can be used just as warm outer layer if needed. Shorts: my Race-Ready running shorts with built-in underwear and pockets. Cost $30 but I had them already. I also already have ($40) a pair of nylon zip-off convertable long/short hiking pants. Long-johns: My mid-weight running tights. Wicking T-shirt: Free (except for registration) from Vermont City Marathon. Wicking long-sleeved shirt: Free (except for registration) from P.T. Cruiser Triple Challenge at Tampa/Gasparilla Marathon 2005. Long-sleeved fleece top: Free, hand-me-down from a friend. Gloves: Already have, 2 prs./$1.50 at Wal-Mart a few years ago. Hats: My Ironman Florida finisher's hat; nothing I got at that race could be called "free" because I worked my g.d. ass off for it, plus the $450 registration fee. But I didn't buy it extra for hiking, anyway. I have a cold-weather knit hat already but may make a lighter, less-bulky one out of some fleece fabric I already have. Free.

Shelter: I sprung for one here, too. Urethane-coated ripstop nylon 8 X 10 tarp, not a tent, but it can be rigged into a tent using my hiking poles and/or a tree or two. I'm going for tarp vs. tent b/c of the many ways a tarp can be configured, vs. the only-way-this works for a tent. $36.

Tent stakes: Aluminum gutter spikes, 30 cents each from the hardware store. A dozen weigh 4 oz. A dozen titanium tent stakes.... well, not sure how much this would set me back, but definitely more than $4 for a dozen. More like $4 apiece, $48 for a dozen.

Ground cloth: a hunk of Tyvek scored from someone who was building a house on a road where I went biking. Ask and you shall receive. Free.

Sleeping bag: Currently a synthetic 40*F bag that Steve got several years ago for a biking trip. Free. Warm enough for colder temps if I wear all my clothes inside it. Or use the fleece liner I made for about $12 (a silk one costs over $50, as does a sil-nylon one.)

Sleeping pad: Sprung for one a friend was selling. ThermaRest ProLite Women's self-inflating, $50, would have cost $100 new.


So far I have spent: $288

If I had bought all the up-to-date equivalents, new:
Pack $160
Stove $100
Pot $50
Fuel $5 (same)
Rain Gear $170 (same)
Shorts: $30
Convertible pants $40 (same)
Long Johns: $40
Wicking T-shirt: $40
Wicking LS shirt: $60
Polartec Fleece top: $60
Hats: $50
Sil-nylon Tent: $350
Sil-nylon ground cloth: $70
Titanium stakes: $48
Down sleeping bag: $300 (I'm actually hoping the family will go together on this for Christmas)
Sleeping pad: $100
Bag liner: $50

Could have spent, on what I have so far: $1723

AFFLUENT DEPRIVATION

I wonder if this is some kind of convoluted envy: Sometimes I feel mild contempt for hikers who spend thousands of dollars on the latest high-tech feather-weight gear to make it more comfortable to go out and live in the woods scraping by with the minimum essentials for life, including not enough food (thru-hikers usually lose about 20 pounds en route.)

Spending thousands of dollars on bare essentials seems a little paradoxical.


Recently I spent a great weekend in Gettysburg, PA at the annual ALDHA (Appalachian Long-Distance Hiking Association) Gathering. I went to a couple of workshops on lightening your load. One of the things that was said again and again was, "This thing (pack, jacket, tent, whatever) only weighs X grams and is well worth the cost." A variation on that was "The savings in weight is worth whatever it costs." Or, "It's only a couple hundred dollars and you'll never regret it."


Plus, they've somehow quit their jobs for 6 months.


It's growing on me that deliberately living on nothing and being hungry all the time while hiking in the woods is essentially a sport for the affluent.


Affluent, I ain't. Our main income is my husband's retirement income, which isn't all that much (certainly less than our two professional incomes were, and actually less than his alone.) We supplement that by working in campgrounds for a free site and (usually) minimum wage or close to it. It's our choice to live this way so that we can travel the country. But we don't do it high-class.


I'm thinking a person doesn't have to backpack high-class, either.


Bare essentials are shelter, water, food, and warmth.


"Grandma" Emma Gatewood who became, at the age of 65 (more or less... accounts vary, just like the distance of the AT), the first female ever to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail end-to-end in one fell swoop, did it pretty much on the spur of the moment (not years of planning). She sewed up a denim duffel bag, put into it a change of clothes, a raincoat, a wool Army blanket, a plastic shower curtain for a shelter, and a modest supply of beef jerkey, cheese, and nuts, walked out the door carrying it over her shoulder and wearing a pair of U.S. Keds, and started hiking. She carried a little money so she could buy more nuts and crackers when she ran out.


No $300 tent. No $185 ergonomically-designed backpack. No $300 down sleeping bag. No $150 folds-into-itself super-hot-burning stove. No $75 Titanium pot (that's about the price of the one-pint size.) No $150 waterproof-breathable rain jacket and $100 matching pants, no $200 down jacket.


She made it. She said: "I thought it would be a lark. It wasn't."


I plan to carry a little more than Grandma did, but I'm not going to be able to go high-class. When I first started making noises about how much I'd like to do this, Steve said that he could work extra hours during the 6 or so months, to make up for what I wouldn't be working. (Now that's supportive.)



They say it costs about $1 to $2 per mile, not including gear and getting there, to hike the AT. So we're looking at $2000-$4000 dollars.

The low end if you don't stay a lot in off-trail motels and hostels and eat in restaurants a lot, the higher end if you do.

I haven't added it up, but I'm sure I'd be incurring $2000 in living costs in 6 months even if I stayed home. The main difference would be in not earning an income during that time.

I repeat: My husband said he'd work two jobs so I could do this.

I'd been thinking about this post, or maybe series of posts, before Jack brought up a few days ago about winning the lottery to afford the hike.

Some of my next posts will be on gear -- affording it vs. just going out and buying it as apparently a great many of the hikers do. The ones who go first-class. I'm going economy.

AUSTIN TRAINING

Just so I'm not always all about hiking....

I did my first official Training-For-Austin workout today.

10-min jog warmup, then 6 X 400, supposed to be at 2:15 but my natural "try for 2:15" pace kept me coming in around 2:04. I carried the GPS a few laps to keep it around 6.7 mph (I'd done the math, that's what 2:15 worked out to) but whenever I didn't carry it I went faster.

2-min rest intervals during which I stretched calves and hamstrings and walked around. Iced my Achilles's afterwards. They didn't hurt much running, and don't now. I did shorten my planned 4-lap jog cooldown to one lap plus a one-lap walk, just to be safe on the Achilles.

Tomorrow is a bike day, Friday rest, then Saturday long run, 7 miles according to my training plan. This will seem easy, since I've already got 6 10-milers in the bank in the last month.

On what are supposed to be "easy running/jogging" days, I'm substituting biking to save wear and tear on my chronically-ailing Achilles.

We shall see what happens at Austin. If my old decrepit body makes it through the training.

HIKING STAFF

I haven't given up on the AT. I'm revising.

I am still going to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail.

I'm lengthening my goal by a year. Instead of 2008, I'll do it in 2009.

2008 will be the Year of the Baby. The year of the Austin Marathon. The year of SavageMan. Who knows, maybe the year of the Boston Qualifier after all. (Or not, on that one.)

I had been afraid that, after the Year of the Baby, would come the Year of My Mother, followed by many Years of My Mother, taking care of the woman who took care of me, until she does not need me anymore, by which time I might no longer be in condition to undertake the pilgrimage.

But I think: My mother wants me to fulfill my dream goal of hiking the AT. She's said so. She wants to live to see me do it. She doesn't want me to wait till she's gone.

And so, to be sure she's cognizant that I am actually hiking, my goal now is to make it while she's still living on the earth, to give her the satisfaction of knowing that I made it.

My mother believes I can do it. She's watched me through 23 marathons and 2 IronMan triathlons. She wants me to achieve this next ultra-endurance goal. She would find it appalling that I put off, even cancelled, a lifelong dream to take care of her.

I think, with that in mind, I can arrange, if necessary, for her care while I go and do it. Already, in recent weeks, she's gotten a housekeeper to come for several hours twice a week, gotten one of those "I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up" bracelets, and arranged for weekly garbage pickup. She arranged these things for herself, with a little nagging. Her housework, her safety, and her garbage have been my 3 most critical concerns with her. If it all works out and she doesn't deteriorate in the next year, I will plan on starting my hike in March of 2009 (unless I qualify for Boston, which I seriously doubt.)

Today I've started a new project. My hiking poles. I had a pair of manufactured aluminum (or some kind of metal) trekking poles with screw-in-or-out length-adjustments. I used them all summer in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, on the most rugged parts of the AT. They broke this fall, at the adjustment points. I got them in Wal-Mart for $20 for the pair (Swiss Army Gear, they weren't less-quality than my Swiss Army Knife.) You can buy screw-length-carbon-fiber titanium hi-tech adjustable hiking poles for a couple hundred dollars. I find this a bit much for a couple of sticks.

So I bought dowel rods. They're the perfect length and grip thickness for me, cost $6 apiece, and are practically indestructible. I thought they had less character than, say, a pine or maple limb I might scavenge in the forest and de-bark and hone to my requirements. But such limbs tend to curve, or be cracked, or be secretly fragile from X years in the elements before being found.The dowel rods are straight and reliable in their seasoning.

They started out plain but won't end up that way. I'm adding character. Today I started working on the first one. I wrote my name and Steve's on it, with our wedding date underneath: 8 - 26 - 1972. And wood-burned over that, so it's my own handwriting. Then Steve signed it, and I wood-burned his signature, with his birthdate. This evening, our daughter Avery and her husband Scott came over, and I had each of them sign it, and woodburned over their signatures, and put in their birthdates. I'm going to have all my children, their spouses, and their children -- my grandchildren -- sign it. And my mother. And I'll wood-burn everyone's signature and birthdate. That way, my whole family will be with me, each in their own handwriting, when I hike the Trail in 2009. I'll have Abbie, who will be 6, sign for her little brother or sister, who will be going on 1. I'll leave the Trail for his/her first birthday party and then go back to continue and finish.

I think, on the other pole, I'll attach an AT hiking medallion. This second pole will be for the names of my friends: email friends, Blogland friends, Internet friends, whoever wants to go with me. Then, while on the trial, I'll have new Trail Friends write their names on it, and when I finish the Trial, I'll wood-burn them in. Press hard, you are writing through 2,175 miles.

I am going to have the coolest hiking staffs on the Trail. And they won't break.

When they're farther along in their evolution, I'll post a picture.

These staffs comfort me. I am still going. Just not this coming year.

It gives me more time to plan, more time to "practice," more time to learn.

And time to do SavageMan. Date: Sept. 14, 2008.

HOURS OF TRAINING

Wow.

My gymnast granddaughter Gracie trains 12 hours a week. Three days a week for 4 hours. This past week she put in an extra 4 at the gym "fine-tuning her routine," an optional practice session suggested by her trainer.

I went to her practice the other night and she pretty much was working the whole time. Occasional breaks of a minute or two to change disciplines, wait for the other girl to get off the bars, etc. But mostly she was working the whole time.

It's not the same kind of endurance as running or biking for 4 hours, and not the same type of intensity as triathlon-training 12 hours a week; still, it shows a lot of concentration and determination.

You can see her muscles when she moves her arms and legs.

I wanna grow up to be just like Gracie :-)

RUNNING.... OWWwwwww....

Running hurts.

My Achilles tendons, and my butt right under the sit-bones. I stretch and ice and stretch and ice and it doesn't get better. This is the pain I had that made the Vermont City Marathon feel like a death march and made me ponder that my running career was over.

In fact, I hardly ran all summer. I hiked and backpacked, trained up for a 5K and ran it, but otherwise I rested from running.

Now I've started again, since I'm pondering the Austin Marathon in February.

Still hurts. Achilles tendons, sit-bones, and, after I run, my lower back, the flat sacral area.

These chronic aggravations have been going since January. I'm so tired of it.

Maybe when we get established in Austin for the winter I'll look into physical therapy. Our insurance doesn't cover massage therapy but it does take PT.

Columbus Marathon is tomorrow and we're here in town but I sure won't be running it.

I'm pleased with today's run, about 11 miles I guess (have to go measure it.) The second hour I was in pain. I guess it's relative, though..... not enough pain to stop running, just enough to make the run miserable. My gymnast granddaughter Gracie (9) ran me through a bunch of stretches with her afterwards. That was fun do do with her and maybe it helped. I'm not tired at all from the run, just that soreness in my tendons and butt.

CHANGES

I have not been here in Blogland for so long.

We have been away from Internet access, except for the McDonalds wi-fi and our son's house. We've been back "home" in western Maryland at Deep Creek State Park the last several weeks.



Now we're en route to Austin, TX for the winter, via Ohio to see our daughters and other grandchildren, then Michigan to visit Steve's parents and one of his sisters and her extended family. I will need to stay late at Mom-in-Law's on Nov. 3 to watch Linae's Ironman Florida finish, since we won't have web access at our Michigan campground either.



I had this big plan, Plan A (without knowing it was Plan A and the plans might eventually span the alphabet) to pack up a bunch of gear, buy a plane ticket from Austin to Atlanta, and start hiking the Appalachian Trail late in March.



Everything has changed. There's good news and bad news.



The good news is that our son, Jon, and his wife, Jamie, are expecting their second child the third week of May. Abbie is going to be a big sister. We've been in "baby deprivation" for several years now and are thrilled that we're getting a new grandchild.



But.



But.



The bad news is, it won't work for me to be out in the wilderness out of cell-phone signal reach, and go into town for a food resupply, call home, and find out the baby was born and is 4 days old already.



Or was born prematurely and is in the NICU.



Or whatever.


At first I decided right off the bat not to go at all. End of hiking plan. Scratch Plan A. I can't even begin to describe the inner battle between joy over the new baby and grief at not hiking the Trail.

We made arrangements to work again at Candy Hill Campground in Winchester, VA, starting in early May, so we'd be just a couple hours from "home" and we can see the baby and the rest of the Maryland installment of our family every couple weeks.



The campground is only about 15 miles from Harper's Ferry, WV, which is an important stop on the AT and the "psychological halfway point" for thru-hikers. I could hike from somewhere, to Harper's Ferry, getting there early in May and joining my husband in Winchester in plenty of time for the baby. This was Plan B.


I'd found out that if my family were to contact the Appalachian Trail Conference with my approximate location (I'd be keeping Steve updated) they could find me within hours.

It started to occur to me that if I were in the neighborhood and not hiking all summer, I could train for and participate in SavageMan in September, which I've been salivating over ever since its unofficial trial run in 2006, and its inaugural running a month ago, both of which I missed because I wasn't in the right place at the right time. For 2008, I could be.

Then Holly came up with Plan C. Wouldn't it be a great story for this person to grow up with, she said, that "When I was born my grandmother was hiking the Appalachian Trail, and she left the trail to welcome me into the world for a week, then went back to the trail to finish hiking her dream before spending the next couple years close to me and my family."

Whew. That would be a story. Much different from, "My grandmother was going to hike the Appalachian Trail but she didn't because I was on the way."

I seriously considered this. For awhile it seemed like the way I'd most likely go.

But there's SavageMan. This year was its first running. Next year is scheduled. But that's not enough runnings to assume that it will be put on every year. And for 2 years I have really, really wanted to do this race.

The Appalachian Trail will always be there. SavageMan may not be. If it weren't for this baby coming at this time, I might never have been able to do SavageMan at all. We might never have been in the neighborhood when it was SavageMan time.

So I went back to Plan B. Hike till the baby comes, (I should be somewhere around Roanoke), then stop, train for and do SavageMan, probably also doing some section-hiking on the Trail since we'll be so close to it all summer, and then finish the Trail another year.

But now I don't know again. I don't know if it's worth buying a plane ticket for a 2-month hike. Especially with money tight enough that I'm already scrimping on my gear. Maybe I should save until I can do the whole thing, then do the whole thing.

And then I get depressed again thinking about not going.

TOP NEWS ITEMS

OK, highlights only, in the interest of brevity (and readability):

I finished Cecile's bedspread!!! And got it in the mail. At 12#, it cost slightly less than a plane ticket to France for the wedding would have been.


A corner, to show you the edging.

I also sent her a skein of each of the yarns, the hook I made it with, and a darning needle, in case it ever needs repairs. And the label with fiber content and washing instructions.

Oh, forgot to mention.... she's 6 months pregnant! We're going to be grandparents again, finally! Due around Christmas/New Year's. Maybe my birthday, Dec. 22. Now we HAVE to save for another trip to France.

Massachusetts sightseeing trips:

Gloucester:

The Fisherman's Memorial (immortalized on the label of Gorton's Seafood Products)

The crew of the Andrea Gail, subject of the book/movie "The Perfect Storm." From a humongous plaque listing all known victims of the sea off of Glouster.

I think I've found a new sport. Read closely.

Next:

When will people learn to use the apostrophe?? And understand the possessive? (The front of his cart had it correctly: Joe's Hot Dogs.)

Here, they let it go a little too far before they replaced the sign. The tree hasn't completely swallowed the old one yet.



Provincetown, MA:

Abbie, our youngest grandchild, has started school. Pre-K, which is approximately equal to the First Grade of my school days. Here's her first day:

And, to show you how little she really is....

(Yes, Accident Elementary School. Yes, that's the name of the town. Yes, we take a lot of razzing. Accident Volunteer Fire Department. Accident Rescue Squad. And, the doctor I worked for was on Cemetery Road in Accident, MD.)

Finally....

My Backpack

I bought my Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike backpack!! Granite Gear Vapor Ki, (click link for details), 3300 cu. in., 2# 15oz, eminently comfortable filled with 30#. I have to keep my load now to around 30#, since that's the maximum recommended carrying capacity of the pack.

Rain Gear
And I bought authentic raingear. Didn't even jury-rig 'em out of garbage bags. Marmot Precip (click link.) I'll also use it for a warm layer, over my running tights and yoga pants, on cold nights. Unless they're already wet from rain/snow..... not sure what I'll do about that. Gotta plan to keep one warm outfit absolutely dry in a garbage bag along with my sleeping bag.

Can't believe the start of my 2100+mile hike is just 6 months away.

ACCOUNTABLE

If you're reading this, you no doubt noticed my new weight-loss-goal ticker up under my banner. Maybe having it there will make me feel more accountable for success or stalling... or encourage my friends to hold me accountable!

Don't let me slack! I have been, and my weight this morning was truly shocking. Middle digit I thought I'd never see again. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the chips. Maybe it's from just friggin' eatin' too darn much.

But I ran 7 miles today! Well, ran most of it... did it in cycles of walk 5 min, run 15.

THE WEEK THAT WAS

Wow. The week was crammed full of happenings, and we had no internet, so I've not able either to keep up with my friends or enable them to keep up with me.

Now we're in a different place and we're connected. So here's the update. After which I'm going to bed because I'm whupped.

We stayed the whole week in Bar Harbor, ME. I became a walker: 7 miles one day, 4 another, 6 another. Walking is..... well, slower than running.

It rained a lot while we were in Bar Harbor. But it was still beautiful, maybe more so in a moody sort of way.

One of the sunny days, we rented mountain bikes and rode around the dirt "carriage roads" in Acadia National Park. Lovely. It's been years since Steve went biking with me.

The plan was to stay Wednesday - Sunday, and leave for Gloucester, MA on Monday. But Saturday Steve discovered a major problem under our camper, requiring welding, and of course we couldn't contact a welder till Monday, so we stayed some extra days. On Monday, to kill time waiting for a welder to call us back, we decided to drive around the island (Bar Harbor is on Mount Desert Island) to see all the harbor villages. We turned the wrong way, discovered it after about half a mile (we were going to drive into the ocean if we kept going that way), and turned into a parking lot to turn around. We saw a couple running toward us waving their arms. Flick, focus.... holy cow, the young couple who own/manage the campground in Winchester, VA, where we worked all last winter!!! She's the one who arranged my whole work schedule (and thus, everyone else's) around my Ironman training schedule. So here we are in Bar Harbor due to a crippled camper when we thought we'd be on the way to Gloucester, turning around in a parking lot after a wrong turn, and we just happen to run into Karl and Selena, who were on a cruise of the New England and Canadian coast, and their ship was moored in Bar Harbor for just that day. Of all things!!!! That's their cruise ship in the background. We stuffed them into our truck and all went out to a great seafood restaurant for lunch.

The welding guy fixed our trailer that afternoon. But we still hadn't toured the harbor towns, so we stayed one more night (7th night free after you stayed 6) and drove our final tour of the island yesterday.

Bass Harbor Lighthouse

Finally we packed up and left for Gloucester today. Long ride, and with about an hour (or what should have been an hour) to go we saw this happen right in front of us:

That's one car, not two; his right front end hit the truck's left rear and stayed there and the rest of him went spinning. I thought at first the truck had a blowout, debris flying everywhere. Luckily we weren't so close we became part of it. I called 911 on my cell phone and told the dispatcher the driver was breathing but unresponsive (the dispatcher told me to calm down -- I hadn't realized I was yelling.) He regained consciousness in just a couple minutes and was coherent and oriented although he didn't know what had happened. Amazingly, he appeared to have only minor injuries, at least to the naked eye, even more amazing since he hadn't had a seat belt on. Steve and another driver (who was a paramedic) held his head and we all just kind of stayed there with him reminding him not to move, till the ambulance came.

Irony:

The driver of the truck that was stopped on the side of the road said, "I pulled over so I could reach into my cooler for a soda. I wasn't about to do that while I was driving.... didn't want to take a risk."

Well, now we're in Gloucester, or, more correctly, Cape Ann. And we have wi-fi. And it works. And I'm whupped. So I'm going to bed. What a day. What a week.

ROAD TO AUSTIN

I can do this. I can marathon-train again. I ran my 4 miles yesterday (or thereabouts.... ran for 40 minutes, anyway.) Next weekend, I'll do 5. The marathon is 24 weeks away. I can work up very, very gradually.

I'm not running more than 2 or, at most, 3 days a week. I do my best running when I haven't been running much.

LINE BREAKS AND PARAGRAPHS

Does anyone know why, when I post, sometimes there's no line break between paragraphs, and other times there's an inch or more of space between them? The too-much space happens if I leave the post as a draft, go somewhere else on the internet, and then come back to the post.

When I preview a post and there are no spaces, it doesn't help to go back to composing and just hit "enter" one or more extra times. Still no space.

I don't know how to fix this. It bugs me.

Naturally, this post is looking OK (at least in Preview.)

OH, NO.....

We're going to be in Austin for the winter.

Including February 17, 2008, the date for the Austin Marathon.

Oh, crap.

I need Texas. I need to get back in shape. It's 24 weeks away.... right for getting back to running and training for a marathon.

Austin is flat and fast and a classic Boston-Qualifier. They say, "If you want to run Boston, run Austin."

I just ran the 5-mile, 13-hill Sandown 5-miler at my BQ pace after practically NO RUNNING all summer.

Oh, crap.

I swore I was done with marathons. All I wanted to do was hike.

But Austin is flat, and fast, and a classic BQ, and I haven't done a marathon in Texas, and think what good shape I'll be in to start the Appalachian Trail in March if I've just done a marathon in February. Especially if I lose the 20 pounds I want to lose between now and then. (Down from 25.)

Registration costs 2/3 the retail price of a new ultra-light backpack.

Austin Marathon is going down Feb. 17, and we'll be there, and I don't have a Texas marathon yet, and I still harbor delusions about qualifying for Boston, and it's flat and fast, and think what good shape I'll be in for the Trail after running a marathon, and think what good shape I'll be in for marathons after hiking the trail, and we're going to be in Austin, and.....

Oh, crap. I think I'm had.

I think I'm going to run Austin.

IN A MESS AGAIN

Well, the picture's kind of dark, but it's dark in here anyway. It's raining, it's under trees, it's getting towards dusk. I feel dark when I think about being ready to move on.... coming up on Wednesday.





Yup, our sojourn at Chocorua Camping Village in Chocorua, NH is drawing to an end. I have really loved it here. I thoroughly enjoy my co-housekeeper and boss, Nancy (who is slightly younger than my youngest child), my manager Janet (maybe slightly older than my oldest child?), my hiking buddy Sue, and all of the other work-campers (I avoid the cutesy "official" coined word "workamper.") The work has been sometimes physically demanding, but has required relatively little brainwork, and the company has been congenial.





The geographic location has been phenomenal. With a block of 3 days a week off, I've been able to hike and backpack in the White Mountains, including rather large chunks of the Appalachian Trail, which I'll be happy to recognize next summer as I approach the end of my thru-hike. I'll be happy to know that I was able to hike them this summer as a neophyte, next year by the time I'm way more experienced.





But I am happy to move on. We're going to spend about 3 weeks going to various spots in New England, including Bar Harbor, ME, Cape Cod, Rhode Island (because we need Rhode Island to fill in the spot on our map on the side of our RV.... kind of like my "50-State Marathon Quest" map in my sidebar; states we've visited at least overnight -- just driving across doesn't count), the Boston area (I have a half-sister there whom I haven't seen for a very, very long time), finally getting back to Garrett County, MD about Sept. 24. Then after about a month (to catch up on doctor's appointments, lab work, etc., to say nothing of spending time with family) we're off to the Columbus, OH area (to see more family, our 2 daughters and our Ohio grandkids Collin and Gracie), then to Michigan to see more family (Steve's parents, his sister and her husband, their daughter and her husband and two little girls) and finally on to the Austin, TX area where we have a winter gig lined up (they promise us it's out in the countryside, not in downtown Austin. But there should be plenty of outfitters where I can get my final gear for my AT hike.)





All of this means....





I have to clean up our mess. We've been here 4 months and the difference between this and a short stay is like the difference between pulling an unrooted cutting out of a flower pot, and removing a potbound plant whose roots have practically grown to the pot.





I have to sort. And toss. And organize. And batten down. What to do with stuff that goes in the closet? The closet is pre-empted by my backpack now.





I think we need a bigger boat. But that's not gonna happen unless we win the lottery.





So instead of doing something about it, I'm blogging about it....





~sigh~

I SHOULD BE WALKING

I've just realized I need to get in shape, a new kind of shape. Walking shape. If, 6 or so months from now, I'm going to embark on a trip that will entail walking 7-20 miles a day, I'd better start walking. No doubt I'd get used to it by doing it out there on the trail, but the first couple weeks will be a lot more comfortable if I'm already a walker. Later on, I'll start doing stairs or a stair-climber, or a treadmill set on a steep incline. And then add the backpack.

It's going to feel different, emphasizing walking over running. I've done day hikes of up to 10 miles but only once a week or so; I haven't walked day in, day out, or even every other day or a few days a week. I need to start on this. It's enough different from running that, when I've needed to walk more than a mile or so of a marathon, my feet have started to hurt from the unaccustomed mechanics. I'd better learn them.

Well, I need to mail something and the P.O. is a couple miles away. No time like the present. Up and at 'em.

NO PICTURES, NO PARTY...

.... but on Sunday Steve and I celebrated (sort of) our 35th wedding anniversary.

I should say "observed" rather than "celebrated," maybe, because in the morning we observed that it was our anniversary, kissed briefly, and headed out the door for our day's work at the campground. We did spend a couple enjoyable hours together in the afternoon as we were both assigned to restroom-cleaning.

And in a way, that was a relevant way to observe it. Not restroom-cleaning, specifically, but just doing what we do every day, since being married is what we do every day, and what we do every day is the stuff being married for 35 years is made of.

As I cleaned rental cabins with my campground manager, she congratulated me on our long marriage, and she asked me what advice I had for other couples. I hadn't really thought about that, and had no particular pearls of wisdom to dispense. She asked, "Well, how have you stayed married for so long? There must be some secret you can share."

All I could think of was.... just keep putting one foot in front of the other. So I said that, along with, "I guess a variation of that is -- take one day at a time."

"After 35 years that's all you can say?" she exclaimed. "Put one foot in front of the other? One day at a time?"

Yup, that's about it. All those steps and all those days add up to a long, long journey. All those steps and all those days are what keep us on the trail.

BE STILL

From author Adrienne Hall in her book A Journey North:

"After three months on the Appalachian Trail...I learned to hear a single leaf twist and rustle its neighbor...I learned to hear stillness and tried to find that stillness in myself. Tenderly I nurtured it, hoping that the peace and calm of the woods would grow inside me too."

Yes, that stillness.... let it be; let it be in me.

MacGyverisms

For readers who never encountered MacGyver (and, given a look at him, who wouldn't want to, or at least what female wouldn't want to?!) here's a site full his jury-rigging.

And a point to ponder, for people who either frequent porta-pots or wish there were one (e.g. runners, triathletes) or who do it where bears do (e.g. hikers):

A HIKER BY ANOTHER NAME

I returned today from another overnight backpacking trip, during which I met some hikers walking from Georgia to Maine, as I had hoped to. My readers may or may not realize that long-distance trail hikers, especially AT thru-hikers, often go by a "trail name," sort of like a CB handle. Some people make up their own, or even use their real name, but fellow hikers often replace these "temporary" names with something else, generally representative of a characteristic of the person, or spawned by some memorable event, and you just hope it's not too embarrassing because it's likely to stick and be the name by which all other hikers know you.

I went into the woods Against the Wind, and came out....

*

*

*

*

*

*

Begin "Hallelujah Chorus" here....

*

*

*

*

*

*

MacGyver!

This came about at an Appalachian Mountain Commission-maintained campsite/shelter where I spent the night. With 5 guys :-) (There are 5 tent platforms, so we each had our own.)

We were all eating our suppers together, and one of the guys, trail-named "Spock," was intrigued, or impressed, or amused, by my homemade cooking equipment. My cooking pot is a practically-weightless, no-cost, 1-lb coffee can, with a tight-fitting pot lid made from aluminum foil reinforced with foil tape, supported over my soda-can stove with tent stakes, and.... this was the final straw for Spock.... a pot-lifter/handle that is, in fact, a dog-grooming tool, a shedding blade.

It's a flexible metal blade with a sawtooth edge, a leather handle at each end, and a fastener to hold these together so that the blade forms a loop. I had been using it for Journey one day and suddenly looked at it and wondered, "I'll bet that would fit my coffee can." I tried it. It did. It's perfect. No more carrying potholders or trying to use a bandana for one. I roll it into a tight circle and store it in my coffee-can pot. So Spock saw me pull all this stuff out of my pot, and gaped at the shedding blade, and said,

"Please tell me that's not a pot handle."

"It's a pot handle," I said, fastening it around my pot to show him.

"What is it made to be?" he asked.

"A dog-grooming tool," I explained. "See this sawtooth edge? You pull it along the dog's coat and it pulls out the dead undercoat. I was using it on my dog and had a lightbulb moment. I figured I can use it as a saw, too."

He threw back his head and laughed, "Your name's gotta be MacGyver!!"

I love it!! I'm crazy about it! Especially since Spock has made a lot of his gear, too, including his backpack (which is awesome), and his calling me MacGyver showed appreciation for my ingenuity.

"Against the Wind" has been great for marathoning, and triathlon, and Ironman. It sounds like pressing on through challenge and even adversity. But it's kind of long to use for a name I'll actually be called by, and it's maybe a little pessimistic, always struggling a little.

MacGyver... the secret agent who sees a new use for something, rigs up something improbable from something ordinary, rises to the occasion, gets out of scrapes by being inventive.

A Trail Name that I love, bestowed like an award by a thru-hiker on his way to Maine, a seasoned hiker of many trails.... how good can it get?

I love it.

ALL IS CALM

Hurricane Dean ended up going just south of Jamaica's southern coast. Jon and Jamie were in Ocho Rios on the north coast, 50+ miles from the eyewall, and got rain, and wind around 100mph for a while, but there was no major damage; they were out of the shelter and back in their villa by 9pm, able to put in a phone call Jamie's mother, and have a flight booked to head home tomorrow.

It wasn't nearly as serious as it could have been. Thank goodness for everyone on the island it veered south. What a mess if it had gone right smack through the middle, as it had looked as thought it might. Big disaster averted there.

Whew.

JON AND JAMIE IN JAMAICA

~Sigh~

Our son Jon and his wife Jamie decided last week on a spur-of-the-moment, "whirlwind" trip to Jamaica to celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary, which was day before yesterday. They planned to stay until tomorrow.

At least, until Hurricane Dean got tough and then picked Jamaica as a target. See that little spot right smack in the middle of the "cone of probability" which is the projected path the storm is most likely to take? Yeah, that's Jamaica. Yesterday they tried to get a flight out, but they haven't been able even to get a call through to the panic-packed airlines, let alone get a flight.

So they're going to have to stay and ride it out.

Dean is just a few mph short of becoming a Cagetory 5 hurricane.

We've got the Weather Channel on; apparently plans for evacuation to shelters are in place and functional, with Jamaica getting hit about every 3 years. Jon and Jamie will have an adventure they'd rather not have, but will most likely be OK. And in the aftermath, well, Jon's a firefighter-paramedic and Jamie's a nurse. Both have disaster-response training and are the take-charge sort. Jon has water-rescue training. They might rather not be there but it may be good for others that they are.

What a bummer. Head for the South Seas for a leave-it-all-behind anniversary getaway and land in the middle of a friggin' hurricane, one as strong as they get.

Kind of like a marriage. You get married surrounded by light and lace, dreaming of happily-ever-after. But sometimes you get a hurricane. And at least you're together.

LIFE LESSONS

"You Can See Yourself In It," continued.

Today's lesson:
FINISHING WHAT YOU START.

Of the 1,000-2000 hopefuls who set out on the Appalachian Trail every spring, about 10% actually make it to the other end.

I want to be one of those 10%.

Some leave the trail for physical reasons, injury or illness.

However, barring injury or illness, most people who have the nerve or craziness to start have the physical ability to put one foot in front of the other until they get to Maine (or Georgia, if they start in Maine.)

It's the mental stick-to-it-iveness that nails you.

Hikers get tired of the walking, or the loneliness, or the mosquitoes, or the mice in the shelters, or the grunginess and sweat and dirty clothes (opportunities for a shower and washing clothes come maybe once a week, if you hike several miles off the trail to a town), or the rain (or snow, which falls in spring on the southern end of the Trail and every month of the year in the White Mountains), or the terrain (it is not a smooth gravel path), or of living in a tent, or living on Ramen and Snickers bars, or of lack of any number of accoutrements to which they have become accustomed prior to setting out on the Trail.

Someone on a backpacking forum told me, if I can finish the Ironman, I can finish the AT.

Hmph. Ironman took me 16 hours. The AT will take more than 16 WEEKS, 5-6 months of walking 10-20 miles per day over boulders and mountains carrying a 25# pack in all kinds of weather day after day after day after day after day.

This thought came to me in startling clarity when I was stranded on Mt. Jefferson in NH having clearly bitten off more than I could chew in one day, face with the decision to try to complete my day's planned itinerary or do the obvious and set up camp where I was and increase my chances of survival as a backpacking newbie.

OK, back to the life lesson.

10 years ago, we hosted this exchange student from France. Cecile. She was 16. (Talk about nerve, 16 years old and taking off on a plane to spend a whole year in America with a family she'd never met in a school where the only French spoken was in French class.) So that was 10 years ago. This summer, Cecile got married. In May, I started crocheting a bedspread for her and her husband. I got bogged down because it is a huge project. I have let it go for weeks at a time, thinking, "It's a wedding, not a birthday... it doesn't have to be exactly on time." The thing is big, and heavy, and I get hot holding it on my lap and over my legs and feet while I work on it. I procrastinate. I read email and my special-interest forums (fora?) and books on hiking the AT, while the bedspread rests in its plastic bag under our dining table.

I have got to get this thing finished. She got married almost a month ago.

How can I keep at it on my way to Maine, when I'm tired and cold (or hot) and bug-bitten and hungry and dirty and discouraged.... when I couldn't even finish crocheting a bedspread in the comfort of my own RV with its two TV's, air conditioning, and microwave oven?

Personal commitment: No more reading about the AT until Cecile and Joachim's bedspread is done. It will probably only take me about 10 or 12 more hours.... a day's AT hike.

I'll take a picture and post it when it's done.

Lightening My Pack

This is today's "You Can See Yourself In It" lesson. "You Can See Yourself In It" is my title for the life lessons offered by mountain hiking. I think I'm so in love with hiking and backpacking because.... I can see myself in it.



About an hour into my intended 3-day, 16-mile backpacking trip in the White Mountains a few weeks ago, I realized that not only was my backpack quite heavy, but I was carrying very nearly the same amount of extra body weight, effectively doubling my pack weight.



I got far more fatigued than I expected, got into a risky situation due to not being able to cover the distance, and had a few revelations.



I lost 5 pounds in those 2 days, a combination of mild dehydration and not eating enough (which added to my fatigue.) I refueled and rehydrated for a few days. Then I made a chart and started "lightening my pack" -- my body -- aiming for a pound a week, 25 pounds. (My pack weighed 30, which is probably what my AT thru-hike pack will weigh, including food and water.)



Rather than a specific food plan or eating schedule, when I eat or think about eating, I'm just asking myself the same question I ask when I select items for my backpack: Do I need or want this enough to justify the weight?



This mindset seems to be hitting the spot. Since July 8, I'm down 6 pounds. It hasn't gone evenly, exactly a pound a week (I plateaued for a couple weeks), but I'm more or less on schedule.



When I hit the trail 25 pounds lighter next spring, it will be like carrying just one backpack instead of two. Who wouldn't rather carry just one backpack?! Or a 30-pound pack instead of a 55-pound pack?

I'm on my way.

10-mile Mt. Jackson Hike

Mt. Jackson is one of New Hampshire's 48 4,000+ foot mountains, and the next target in my peak-bagging quest (there's no way I'll do all 48 this summer, though.)

It's been, I guess, 3 weeks since I've hiked, and I felt that a little: more winded going up, more discomfort in quads and toes going down. However, I'm happy with today. The sign at the trailhead said Mt. Jackson's 4,054-foot peak was a 4-mile hike, but the guidebook and website called it 4.7. In addition, the parking lot I used was 0.3 mile away, so I am giving myself credit for 10 miles, my longest mountain hike to date.

And yes, yes, yea, I was on the Appalachian Trail, the Webster Cliff Trail section. I timed my hike to start when I thought thru-hikers might be going along that stretch, guessing from where they would have been likely to spend the night. I armed myself with double-size muffins and whoopie pies for them, assuming it was a while since they'd had anything like that. I hoped to hike with them and get input on trail-running shoes vs. hiking boots, tarp vs. tent, Gore-tex vs. $1-ponchos from the 7/11, and most of all, how it's all going. But I saw nary a one, until my return trip, when I crossed brief paths with a northbound middle-aged man who was bent on making tracks. He'd left Georgia April 19, a month later than most, and at that rate would be making Mt. Katahdin a month ahead of the earlier starters. He didn't want a muffin.

It was a tough hike. Steep. Rocky and rooty. At one point, I met people coming down, and warned them that the trail ahead of them, where I had come up, was going to be tricky going down. They thanked me politely, graciously keeping to themselves that I hadn't seen tricky yet.

Here are a couple of views from a ledge about halfway up.

That's NH 302 at the bottom, and the Willey House, part of Crawford Notch State Park. The road above it, I think, is a railroad.

From a different angle, same ledge. Although I took this shot myself, I found the exact same shot afterwards on a website. Apparently I'm not the only one who liked that view!

About 3/4 of the way up, I encountered the near-vertical rock climbs. I'd stand and wonder, "How in the hell am I going to get up that? And how in the hell am I going to get back down?" The answers: Question #1: Hand-over-hand and on my knees. Question #2: On my butt, reaching to the next foothold with my feet.

I had Journey along, and although I worried about how she would negotiate the rocky climbs, I needn't have. She's as sure-footed as a goat. I'd let go of her leash, have her sit-stay at the bottom (or top) of a climb, clambor over it myself, then give her the OK to follow. She skipped up or down like we were running on the shoulder of a flat road. It worked out well.

Here we are at the summit:

Lichen-covered boulders at the summit (above treeline) with a far view of the White Mountains in the distance:

Another thing about Journey: she can always find the trail. Yes, it's marked, but sometimes it's still not exactly clear to me which way to go. However, Journey goes to the right spot unerringly, even when she's never been there before. Maybe she's sniffing out the trail where others have been.

Although she wanted to chase every chipmunk and squirrel, she shied back when a garter snake peacefully crossed the trail. My son has told me that all mammals share an instinctive fear of snakes. Except, I guess, for mutants like me.

Today's "You Can See Yourself In It" metaphor-for-life lesson:

Sometimes I'm so intent on watching my footing that I forget to look where I'm going, and miss scenery as well.

An earlier one, conceived on a different steep rocky trail:

It's good that when it's all uphill there are rocks and roots. We may curse them as stumbling blocks but they give substance for a foothold.

I left the muffins and whoopie pies in a cooler someone had deposited near the trailhead of a nearby AT section. It had ice in it, and a watermelon (or what was left of it; many had partaken, by the looks of the rinds in the garbage bag the donor had provided. My cakes were individually-wrapped so I'm hoping the melting ice didn't soak them.

I RAN A 5-MILE RACE!

It's been a summer of not really running, and I've re-invented myself as a hiker and backpacker, but I believe I just ran a race.

Saturday I took my mom (who's been visiting us) down to Sandown, NH, where her family had had a summer cabin when she was a kid. Sandown was having its annual "Old Home Days" festival, which included a 5-mile race, so I thought, she'd love the Old Home Days and if we were going I might as well run the race.

You might remember I've hardly run all summer. After the Vermont City Marathon I thought I might just quit running.

About 3 weeks ago, with a "possible" race coming up, I started running/walking for half an hour 2 or 3 days a week, starting with run 1 minute, walk 1. Worked up little by little till, Tuesday of last week, I ran/walked for a whole hour run 7/walk 3, then Thursday (2 days before the race) I did half an hour of run 10, walk 1. I don't know if any of these runs added up to as much as 5 miles, didn't measure.

So I went to the race and registered and that's when I saw the t-shirt, whose design featured the course elevation map. Oh, great!

I figured to start slow and then ease up. It did turn out to be hilly, but only one was one of those long slow killers. Most were very substantial rollers, with the elevation changing a couple hundred feet in between. Well, I haven't been running, but I've been hiking in the White Mountains....

Ask me my time. Go on, ask me. You know you're dying to.

48:42!!! For 5 miles!! On hills!! When I haven't run all summer!! Gol-durn! Averages out to 9:44/mile. Gol-DURN!!!

Mile 1: 9:44
Mile 2: 9:07
Mile 3: 9:37
Mile 4: 10:45 (obviously the mile with the bad hill)
Mile 5: 9:27

I am astonished. Looks like I run my best when I don't run for weeks :-)

P.S. As I saw my splits add up (at least till mile 4,) I began to hope I might win something. But I was 4th out of 4 women 50-59. Sandown has some FAST WOMEN!! First in my AG ran 41:xx. Third was about 40 seconds ahead of me.