I got a good night's sleep at last! The dog and I were out for 1:35 today, and probably 80 minutes of that was jogging. Actually, I'm not really sure. We went to the larger forest today and I still don't know the trails by heart but there are free maps available! So I spent a bit of time checking the map. I kept my effort as easy as possible, took some water and a gel, and we had a nice run. I really need to get back to longer ventures; I'm still out of shape somewhat and the best way for me to improve stamina is by improving endurance by going on long and super easy jogs.
We also spent a bit of time on another loose dog that I thought was a stray for sure because it was dirty and matted and wore no collar and was loose beside a road with a 45 mph speed limit. It looked like a small labradoodle. But, no, it had an owner who couldn't be bothered to cross the street. Why didn't I just keep running and have the dog follow me? I rather enjoy that sometimes. However, since I'm new to the area and Southern culture and all, I'm giving everyone one free pass here. Stuff happens. My dog was loose for a few minutes last week because he figured out that he could bump open the back door when it's unlatched. He ran around in the yard after something and then back into the house. Now the door stays latched until he has a collar and leash on.
And next time we jog down that road (despite the speed limit, it has a very wide shoulder that's nice to run on), Crispin or whatever his name is might get the opportunity for a jog too if he's loose again. Meanwhile, I was very polite and even told the dog to wait until a car passed and then I shooed him across. The lady apologized and I told her it's alright, it was, and then I quickly jogged away before I heard her say something that could annoy me.
When we got home, I did half of Zwow #2.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
not just gluten
That other, endocrine issue...sleep has been shortened again. But no sepsis, at least. Hopefully I'll feel better with some rest and iron supplements. Why do I keep slacking on those? Same thing with anti-ITBS exercises! Problems inevitably arise when I omit them for a while. Why can't I keep them up? Moving around is no excuse: pills and the space required to perform clamshells are both relatively small.
I'm also fortunate in that I've recently moved and am still between face-time jobs, and the couple of things I'm working on aren't time or schedule sensitive. But I'm trying to get into a good routine, even though I'll get a job at some point that, if the past is any indication, probably won't have normal hours. I recently saw an advertised possibility (a bit of a stretch but that's usually the case) that had a 4:30 am start time some days. Funnily enough, this might work because I have been awake around 3 am pretty much every night here so far.
We ran on Saturday and Sunday and explored a bit more of the trail system. It turns out that 2b is a pretty neat and vigorous stretch that ends up on a nearby main road. This is pretty exciting.
Monday-Tues-Wed, just walking, although I also did a few resistance exercises.
I'm also fortunate in that I've recently moved and am still between face-time jobs, and the couple of things I'm working on aren't time or schedule sensitive. But I'm trying to get into a good routine, even though I'll get a job at some point that, if the past is any indication, probably won't have normal hours. I recently saw an advertised possibility (a bit of a stretch but that's usually the case) that had a 4:30 am start time some days. Funnily enough, this might work because I have been awake around 3 am pretty much every night here so far.
We ran on Saturday and Sunday and explored a bit more of the trail system. It turns out that 2b is a pretty neat and vigorous stretch that ends up on a nearby main road. This is pretty exciting.
Monday-Tues-Wed, just walking, although I also did a few resistance exercises.
Friday, January 25, 2013
~
Yesterday: 20 minute jog in the forest. I couldn't sleep much that night, just enough for my body to do its post-gluten thing of
--wow, I'm listening to Zeiss Contarex (Autechre) right now, what an superb intro, and what a disappointment that it settled into the semi-normalicy of a beat, but it's turning out to be still interesting--
Anyway, my body tied itself into knots, including one rather sore one in my right calf. DVT? lol, I decided to jog it out because that often solves the problem. And it did, that and walking for a half-hour around lunch time. We stuck to the main trail but I noticed for the first time a side trail opposite where the smaller loop meets the big one...
Time for some nomenclature! That side trail, still unexplored, is 1. 2a was the trail that led to a dirt parking lot and street, if I remember correctly. We ran down 2b today and it led to two further paths, one with Private No Trespassing signs on it, and the other which might be a firebreak along the perimeter of the state property. It's pretty much a path and we'll check this out later.
3 quickly joins into 2, even before the split, which makes me feel bad for it so it gets its own number.
We checked out 4 for the first time today, and it sure got interesting. At first, I wasn't sure if it was on private property--the overcast skies darkened a bit, which cast a delightful gloom to the quasi-abandoned trail. Some portions were buried in pine needles, and some portions were overgrown with moss. And then small ice pellets began to hit us, a myriad of sharp little invitations to go further wherever, because nobody else would be out. As we continued, the terrain got choppier. We walked up a couple of the steepest sections. No shame, it still counts! All too soon, however, we ended up at what I thought was 5 (looking back where we'd came from was the same sharp steep trail I'd noticed earlier), and we ran on but didn't reach 5a-b as expected. Confusion! So we turned around and went up '5'. We got to a fork and there was one of those amazing moments where geographical memories stitch together, whirling disorientation suddenly weighted by clarity. AH. This was where 5 split into a-b...we'd been on 5a, which has 5a.1 and 5a.2, to be explored later. 5b was the portion which we ran down with my husband and flushed out the deer, and he's gone further down it later and found that it seemed to end in someone's backyard (how cool for those lucky people). I hope to check this out myself too.
The dog and I ran back, not as quickly as he would have liked, for the ice pellets were turning into rain. I didn't notice any further side trails. I suppose that we'll run out exploration soon enough, but I think there's enough for a 1.5 mile loop at least, and maybe even two....or three? miles if that firebreak path comes into play. Will see!
40 minutes. Maybe we'll jog again this afternoon. I've been wrestling books since then and will be doing a partial water change for the koi shortly. Some somewhat heavy lifting, so I haven't changed or showered yet.
Oh, yeah, I forgot about the black female lab that was lost. She was wearing a collar. She wasn't interested in us at all, but ran to the entrance of the annex, and then ran around for a bit, including to a car that was turning around in the dead end (and once again, I got dirty looks from a driver while dealing with someone else's loose dog). She couldn't be coaxed to come with us or at least step off the road. Was this dog even trained? I decided to bring my dog home and then return with the leash and maybe jog around a bit with her inside the annex because there were two empty vehicles parked at the entrance, the first time I'd seen anything parked there. At least I could hang around with her at the entrance so that she wouldn't be running off into the road.
As I approached the annex, empty leash in hand, I saw the dog happily circling around two women putting stuff in one of the vehicles. A fairy tale ending! How sweet! Hopefully it was a learning experience for those individuals (the 2013 me is trying to be kinder). The sign at the entrance actually says that dogs have to be leashed with no longer than 6 feet of leash.
--wow, I'm listening to Zeiss Contarex (Autechre) right now, what an superb intro, and what a disappointment that it settled into the semi-normalicy of a beat, but it's turning out to be still interesting--
Anyway, my body tied itself into knots, including one rather sore one in my right calf. DVT? lol, I decided to jog it out because that often solves the problem. And it did, that and walking for a half-hour around lunch time. We stuck to the main trail but I noticed for the first time a side trail opposite where the smaller loop meets the big one...
Time for some nomenclature! That side trail, still unexplored, is 1. 2a was the trail that led to a dirt parking lot and street, if I remember correctly. We ran down 2b today and it led to two further paths, one with Private No Trespassing signs on it, and the other which might be a firebreak along the perimeter of the state property. It's pretty much a path and we'll check this out later.
3 quickly joins into 2, even before the split, which makes me feel bad for it so it gets its own number.
We checked out 4 for the first time today, and it sure got interesting. At first, I wasn't sure if it was on private property--the overcast skies darkened a bit, which cast a delightful gloom to the quasi-abandoned trail. Some portions were buried in pine needles, and some portions were overgrown with moss. And then small ice pellets began to hit us, a myriad of sharp little invitations to go further wherever, because nobody else would be out. As we continued, the terrain got choppier. We walked up a couple of the steepest sections. No shame, it still counts! All too soon, however, we ended up at what I thought was 5 (looking back where we'd came from was the same sharp steep trail I'd noticed earlier), and we ran on but didn't reach 5a-b as expected. Confusion! So we turned around and went up '5'. We got to a fork and there was one of those amazing moments where geographical memories stitch together, whirling disorientation suddenly weighted by clarity. AH. This was where 5 split into a-b...we'd been on 5a, which has 5a.1 and 5a.2, to be explored later. 5b was the portion which we ran down with my husband and flushed out the deer, and he's gone further down it later and found that it seemed to end in someone's backyard (how cool for those lucky people). I hope to check this out myself too.
The dog and I ran back, not as quickly as he would have liked, for the ice pellets were turning into rain. I didn't notice any further side trails. I suppose that we'll run out exploration soon enough, but I think there's enough for a 1.5 mile loop at least, and maybe even two....or three? miles if that firebreak path comes into play. Will see!
40 minutes. Maybe we'll jog again this afternoon. I've been wrestling books since then and will be doing a partial water change for the koi shortly. Some somewhat heavy lifting, so I haven't changed or showered yet.
Oh, yeah, I forgot about the black female lab that was lost. She was wearing a collar. She wasn't interested in us at all, but ran to the entrance of the annex, and then ran around for a bit, including to a car that was turning around in the dead end (and once again, I got dirty looks from a driver while dealing with someone else's loose dog). She couldn't be coaxed to come with us or at least step off the road. Was this dog even trained? I decided to bring my dog home and then return with the leash and maybe jog around a bit with her inside the annex because there were two empty vehicles parked at the entrance, the first time I'd seen anything parked there. At least I could hang around with her at the entrance so that she wouldn't be running off into the road.
As I approached the annex, empty leash in hand, I saw the dog happily circling around two women putting stuff in one of the vehicles. A fairy tale ending! How sweet! Hopefully it was a learning experience for those individuals (the 2013 me is trying to be kinder). The sign at the entrance actually says that dogs have to be leashed with no longer than 6 feet of leash.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
a possible double?
I can't remember if my husband mentioned running after work today, and I haven't decided if I'd join him.
I've been somewhat mired by a lack of routine; I generally need some sort of indisputable impetus when I first wake up in the morning, especially since I usually end up either between jobs or working 2nd shift and we get moved so darn often. I didn't get into a solid routine in Kansas, but that was just 10 months. The first-thing-in-the-morning easy jog on the beach worked really well, but that was already two places ago. Now my task is to convince myself that I have to go to the forest right away or else I will miss the good stuff. This is easier to do when involving a beach and its continually dredged up from the deep glories, but a forest still has some neat things worth rushing for sometimes. I wonder if there are edible mushrooms in there....
I'm still filling a sleep bank deficit too...I am still recovering from gluten exposure/colitis/and other itis, and last week I'd started the vicious circle of increasing inflammation preventing sleep spurring increasing inflammation. So, last night, I took two Tylenol PM and though it seemed that I had to wake up every time I needed to shift my body, I felt I got a sound night's sleep for the first time in several days at least.
So I put my running clothes first thing in the morning, drank some water, got the dog into his vest (OMG, deep freeze in the South, y'all, -4 C!!! lol, but the dog has eyelashes for fur and needs his fleece) and we jogged to the annex. We took the first side path, and then it split into two! I chose the path on the right and we jogged down it, and it became more and more abandoned, and it wasn't very distinct in places, but it's a small forest and all I would've had to do is walk back into the sun. The long-leaf pine straw smothers most undergrowth; the footing is soft but easy to walk on. We ran downhill until we eventually came to a small dirt lot, a street, and a few houses. Next time we go down that way, I'll run on the street until I find a name.
We jogged back and then I took the last side path to the larger trail, the way we'd gone before, but I turned right instead of left, and ran until that trail split as well. So many choices! On our way back, I saw what might be a path going down into a small valley of sorts. That is worth checking out too.
And, yes, it looks like I have a few months between the end of deer/bear season (Jan 1) and wild turkey season. As far as I know, the annex is state land and hunting is prohibited, and there are signs up in a few places, as well as private property signs for the farm nearby (we respect that kind of thing)...I'm hoping that signage will continue to be clear so that we don't suddenly pop out onto someone's turf. And I unpacked my orange running shirts today!
I've been somewhat mired by a lack of routine; I generally need some sort of indisputable impetus when I first wake up in the morning, especially since I usually end up either between jobs or working 2nd shift and we get moved so darn often. I didn't get into a solid routine in Kansas, but that was just 10 months. The first-thing-in-the-morning easy jog on the beach worked really well, but that was already two places ago. Now my task is to convince myself that I have to go to the forest right away or else I will miss the good stuff. This is easier to do when involving a beach and its continually dredged up from the deep glories, but a forest still has some neat things worth rushing for sometimes. I wonder if there are edible mushrooms in there....
I'm still filling a sleep bank deficit too...I am still recovering from gluten exposure/colitis/and other itis, and last week I'd started the vicious circle of increasing inflammation preventing sleep spurring increasing inflammation. So, last night, I took two Tylenol PM and though it seemed that I had to wake up every time I needed to shift my body, I felt I got a sound night's sleep for the first time in several days at least.
So I put my running clothes first thing in the morning, drank some water, got the dog into his vest (OMG, deep freeze in the South, y'all, -4 C!!! lol, but the dog has eyelashes for fur and needs his fleece) and we jogged to the annex. We took the first side path, and then it split into two! I chose the path on the right and we jogged down it, and it became more and more abandoned, and it wasn't very distinct in places, but it's a small forest and all I would've had to do is walk back into the sun. The long-leaf pine straw smothers most undergrowth; the footing is soft but easy to walk on. We ran downhill until we eventually came to a small dirt lot, a street, and a few houses. Next time we go down that way, I'll run on the street until I find a name.
We jogged back and then I took the last side path to the larger trail, the way we'd gone before, but I turned right instead of left, and ran until that trail split as well. So many choices! On our way back, I saw what might be a path going down into a small valley of sorts. That is worth checking out too.
And, yes, it looks like I have a few months between the end of deer/bear season (Jan 1) and wild turkey season. As far as I know, the annex is state land and hunting is prohibited, and there are signs up in a few places, as well as private property signs for the farm nearby (we respect that kind of thing)...I'm hoping that signage will continue to be clear so that we don't suddenly pop out onto someone's turf. And I unpacked my orange running shirts today!
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
whoops, lost track!
More cardboard and newsprint than running these days, and the end is not quite in sight.
We've run a few more times since my last posting, all around the neighbourhood. Our first "easy" run in the Annex (it's a small section of forest and trails about an eighth of a mile away from our house, and it is indeed called the Annex) was not easy; we weren't prepared for the hills. Our first "easy" hour-long run on the main trails was not easy either: more hills. And roots. Our first foray of the All-American trail wasn't easy either: even more hills.
Fortunately, these hills (we are in the Sandhills region of NC) are of yielding sand and not of the sharp and steep collapsed limestone ridges back in Kansas. Those ones pushed effort mercilessly into the lactic acid pang range no matter what: I sometimes felt the burn walking up the big hill to work. The hills here are more forgiving. Our second run in the Annex was much easier, with a few slightly pressed minutes here and there. It has become imperative to decide what the run is to be and adjust the ascents accordingly. A short and tough run: attack the hills. This has become my default mode because I want to get the hills over with asap, but it's proving too punishing for runs even for mere hour-long runs (plus I'm a bit out of shape these days). An easy run: small steps, hips kept weighted and balanced so that there is less work for other parts to do (I'm still figuring out how to describe this more effectively), a bit of a lean, and small quick but lazy steps, roots permitting.
There are two nestled loops marked in the Annex, and a few other unmarked trails branching off. At first we thought these were short access points leading to nearby streets, but it turns out that there is more to the Annex than meets the eye. We ran down one unmarked trail and then onto a larger one for five minutes or so, and we didn't get to the end of anything. We were going around "the next bend ahead" until time constraints forced us to turn back. Perhaps the larger trail is another loop. It would be wonderful if there were three or so miles of trails in there, or a shortcut to another street. Some exploration remains to be done. This is very exciting. Going down a path for the first time, especially if it's unmarked or uncertain, activates senses to a higher degree. The sun becomes shinier (or the rain more torrential, the cold more biting*), smells are deeper, sounds are crisper and louder, and then, after a while, a warm euphoria sets in. Even when I'm sort of lost and should be worried, or actually am worried, things become marvelous. I get giddy and everything becomes top-shelf--the quaintest alley in the world, the freshest smell of sumac, the best tea, the best stationary store, even the best stone steps or canal boat. I have many such gold-tinged memories of discoveries.
Today, discoveries are limited. I'm unpacking familiar goods. But I found the scotch tape I was looking for! Two rolls!
We also walked into town yesterday...this might become a weekly routine. It's about 3 miles away and a pleasant walk in sunny brisk weather. Most of the roads seem to be pretty quiet on the weekend.
*A cold weather discovery...one time during the winter, I went up a particular "mountain" near Seoul (Surisan?) It was snowy and icy in parts, and I lost the trail and started going down the wrong side and then I retraced my steps back over the rocky spine but once again picked the wrong path, and then I met a Korean man decked out in serious hiking equipment, the poles and crampons and North Face stuff that many Koreans took to the mountains. These are serious hikes, some of which have permanent rope or metal fixtures and overnight cabins. He pointed me to the right trail and I thanked him and took off. I didn't have crampons but one cannot slip when in midair and so sometimes it's easier to run down something slippery than brace against each step. He couldn't keep up but he caught up to me a few times when I stopped to find the trail. I thanked him again, but I took off each time. I figured I was being rude, but I was cold and exuberant, and I got down the mountain and eventually onto a main street nearby where I stopped to walk--and then he pulled up in a white car. Of course it was white; everything was white or grey. He asked if I was ok, and I told him I was, and thanked him again and waved and walked away. It was a chasm of disjointed cultures, I suppose, leaving both of us with unanswered questions for the rest of our lives. On the one hand, I felt very much alone, but it was thrilling to climb out of the cityscape onto ice and bare rock and the threat of falling to a sudden smash. I found a sauna soon after and spent the next few hours sweating, and then I went home. Do I ever miss Seoul!
We've run a few more times since my last posting, all around the neighbourhood. Our first "easy" run in the Annex (it's a small section of forest and trails about an eighth of a mile away from our house, and it is indeed called the Annex) was not easy; we weren't prepared for the hills. Our first "easy" hour-long run on the main trails was not easy either: more hills. And roots. Our first foray of the All-American trail wasn't easy either: even more hills.
Fortunately, these hills (we are in the Sandhills region of NC) are of yielding sand and not of the sharp and steep collapsed limestone ridges back in Kansas. Those ones pushed effort mercilessly into the lactic acid pang range no matter what: I sometimes felt the burn walking up the big hill to work. The hills here are more forgiving. Our second run in the Annex was much easier, with a few slightly pressed minutes here and there. It has become imperative to decide what the run is to be and adjust the ascents accordingly. A short and tough run: attack the hills. This has become my default mode because I want to get the hills over with asap, but it's proving too punishing for runs even for mere hour-long runs (plus I'm a bit out of shape these days). An easy run: small steps, hips kept weighted and balanced so that there is less work for other parts to do (I'm still figuring out how to describe this more effectively), a bit of a lean, and small quick but lazy steps, roots permitting.
There are two nestled loops marked in the Annex, and a few other unmarked trails branching off. At first we thought these were short access points leading to nearby streets, but it turns out that there is more to the Annex than meets the eye. We ran down one unmarked trail and then onto a larger one for five minutes or so, and we didn't get to the end of anything. We were going around "the next bend ahead" until time constraints forced us to turn back. Perhaps the larger trail is another loop. It would be wonderful if there were three or so miles of trails in there, or a shortcut to another street. Some exploration remains to be done. This is very exciting. Going down a path for the first time, especially if it's unmarked or uncertain, activates senses to a higher degree. The sun becomes shinier (or the rain more torrential, the cold more biting*), smells are deeper, sounds are crisper and louder, and then, after a while, a warm euphoria sets in. Even when I'm sort of lost and should be worried, or actually am worried, things become marvelous. I get giddy and everything becomes top-shelf--the quaintest alley in the world, the freshest smell of sumac, the best tea, the best stationary store, even the best stone steps or canal boat. I have many such gold-tinged memories of discoveries.
Today, discoveries are limited. I'm unpacking familiar goods. But I found the scotch tape I was looking for! Two rolls!
We also walked into town yesterday...this might become a weekly routine. It's about 3 miles away and a pleasant walk in sunny brisk weather. Most of the roads seem to be pretty quiet on the weekend.
*A cold weather discovery...one time during the winter, I went up a particular "mountain" near Seoul (Surisan?) It was snowy and icy in parts, and I lost the trail and started going down the wrong side and then I retraced my steps back over the rocky spine but once again picked the wrong path, and then I met a Korean man decked out in serious hiking equipment, the poles and crampons and North Face stuff that many Koreans took to the mountains. These are serious hikes, some of which have permanent rope or metal fixtures and overnight cabins. He pointed me to the right trail and I thanked him and took off. I didn't have crampons but one cannot slip when in midair and so sometimes it's easier to run down something slippery than brace against each step. He couldn't keep up but he caught up to me a few times when I stopped to find the trail. I thanked him again, but I took off each time. I figured I was being rude, but I was cold and exuberant, and I got down the mountain and eventually onto a main street nearby where I stopped to walk--and then he pulled up in a white car. Of course it was white; everything was white or grey. He asked if I was ok, and I told him I was, and thanked him again and waved and walked away. It was a chasm of disjointed cultures, I suppose, leaving both of us with unanswered questions for the rest of our lives. On the one hand, I felt very much alone, but it was thrilling to climb out of the cityscape onto ice and bare rock and the threat of falling to a sudden smash. I found a sauna soon after and spent the next few hours sweating, and then I went home. Do I ever miss Seoul!
Monday, January 14, 2013
around the reservoir
It was much less crowded today so we tried it out. The path is very very nice. It has a few soft spots and a few small inclines, but most of it is flat or close to it, with firmly packed dirt and/or sand. The intended easy jog ended up being a bit faster. I started off slow and then I felt my quads and hip flexors loosen up when I went a bit faster, and so I clung to that ideal zone between breathing too hard and getting jammed up for going too slowly. My hips were pistons and the rest of my legs were weightless. It's amazing how a tiny adjustment, a bit of tilt or a bit more momentum, improves function so drastically. Maybe it's like Jenga.
The reservoir loop is only 2.1 miles long but there is at least one trail that branches off it. Much future potential, as long as we avoid the really nice hours outside of the usual 9-5 Mon-Fri when everyone and their dog(s) go. Yesterday was a perfect July day during a January weekend, thus packed. I still have to find out how big the average personal space bubble is here; maybe it looked more inconvenient than it would have been. The bubbles were huge in Kansas and I got dirty looks now and then when moving in aisles which had ample space for two people to pass each other with umpteen inches of buffer zone. This benefited biking, though: cars almost always gave me metres of room when passing me! It'll be interesting to see what happens here. The bubbles are rather large in most of the south I've been in (and I actually haven't ventured too far into the Deep South), but our new neighbourhood isn't actually a typical Southern town. There are lots of transplants besides us. Whether or not this means that it'll be easier running on paths with a bunch of other runners, and walkers, dogs, strollers, etc, I will find out.
Meanwhile...it turns out that a certain septic tank isn't being installed today but tomorrow, unless it rains, thus potentially delaying a certain inspection (or two, I've lost track), thus potentially delaying our departure from this rather nice motel...fortunately, the koi are only 11 minutes away from their new home so I can feed them the day before traveling, and not fret about figuring out what exact day that is!
The reservoir loop is only 2.1 miles long but there is at least one trail that branches off it. Much future potential, as long as we avoid the really nice hours outside of the usual 9-5 Mon-Fri when everyone and their dog(s) go. Yesterday was a perfect July day during a January weekend, thus packed. I still have to find out how big the average personal space bubble is here; maybe it looked more inconvenient than it would have been. The bubbles were huge in Kansas and I got dirty looks now and then when moving in aisles which had ample space for two people to pass each other with umpteen inches of buffer zone. This benefited biking, though: cars almost always gave me metres of room when passing me! It'll be interesting to see what happens here. The bubbles are rather large in most of the south I've been in (and I actually haven't ventured too far into the Deep South), but our new neighbourhood isn't actually a typical Southern town. There are lots of transplants besides us. Whether or not this means that it'll be easier running on paths with a bunch of other runners, and walkers, dogs, strollers, etc, I will find out.
Meanwhile...it turns out that a certain septic tank isn't being installed today but tomorrow, unless it rains, thus potentially delaying a certain inspection (or two, I've lost track), thus potentially delaying our departure from this rather nice motel...fortunately, the koi are only 11 minutes away from their new home so I can feed them the day before traveling, and not fret about figuring out what exact day that is!
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Half an hour, here and there
For the past two days, we've run in what will be our local forest. I will be describing it more in the future, but my first impression was reassuring: it smells nice. This region has sandy soil and lots of long-leaf pines and I've been told that the pine pollen is horrible in the spring, but I like it for the time being. Especially the smell!
When we left the Outer Banks a couple of days ago, a whole different world than the mainland, we'd also left the ocean and tidal marsh smells behind, which were replaced by chicken excrement and rotten fruit--the predominant smells at our two pitstops on the way here. Not promising! But we'd come here in October, and I knew about the pines. I'm still coming to grips with being plunked back in Dixie or whatever, and I'm trying not to count down yet (730ish days to go), and I'm pinning my hopes on these pines! I hope they ward off the skank, horrible bugs, and stifling humidity that we lived with in Virginia.
We drove to the forest (it's just over a mile from our future home, and it has an "annex" just 0.13 of a mile away--actually, the whole neighbourhood is piney). We stepped out of the car and I smelt pine. The forest looks somewhat un-diverse and uniform, mainly pines and a thick layer of pine needles choking out most undergrowth, and it smells predictably light and uncomplicated.
I love the smell of pine. When I first moved to Bucheon-Seoul, pine smelling soap was popular. I happily lathered up for many months, and then the smell fell out of favour, replaced by aloe or something like that. Pine resurfaced about a year later, but as a yogurt flavour (!!! it was too reminiscent of cleanliness), subsequently replaced by pomegranate. Occasionally, I find soap that has accents of pine, but tempered with other scents. I'm sure the "pine" I smelled in this forest is also a complex goulash of different plants, but I obliviously and happily smelled simply "pine".
Today, we'd intended to run around a local reservoir--the path around it is flat, paved, and just over two miles. This place has been recommended to us by several people. Word is definitely out because, on this fine Sunday morning (sunny, 75F or so), it was packed. The parking lot was close to full, and there were people all over. It was like the Canal back home during the tulip festival.
We decided to dodge tree roots rather than people and so we returned to the forest. I tripped only twice today.
When we left the Outer Banks a couple of days ago, a whole different world than the mainland, we'd also left the ocean and tidal marsh smells behind, which were replaced by chicken excrement and rotten fruit--the predominant smells at our two pitstops on the way here. Not promising! But we'd come here in October, and I knew about the pines. I'm still coming to grips with being plunked back in Dixie or whatever, and I'm trying not to count down yet (730ish days to go), and I'm pinning my hopes on these pines! I hope they ward off the skank, horrible bugs, and stifling humidity that we lived with in Virginia.
We drove to the forest (it's just over a mile from our future home, and it has an "annex" just 0.13 of a mile away--actually, the whole neighbourhood is piney). We stepped out of the car and I smelt pine. The forest looks somewhat un-diverse and uniform, mainly pines and a thick layer of pine needles choking out most undergrowth, and it smells predictably light and uncomplicated.
I love the smell of pine. When I first moved to Bucheon-Seoul, pine smelling soap was popular. I happily lathered up for many months, and then the smell fell out of favour, replaced by aloe or something like that. Pine resurfaced about a year later, but as a yogurt flavour (!!! it was too reminiscent of cleanliness), subsequently replaced by pomegranate. Occasionally, I find soap that has accents of pine, but tempered with other scents. I'm sure the "pine" I smelled in this forest is also a complex goulash of different plants, but I obliviously and happily smelled simply "pine".
Today, we'd intended to run around a local reservoir--the path around it is flat, paved, and just over two miles. This place has been recommended to us by several people. Word is definitely out because, on this fine Sunday morning (sunny, 75F or so), it was packed. The parking lot was close to full, and there were people all over. It was like the Canal back home during the tulip festival.
We decided to dodge tree roots rather than people and so we returned to the forest. I tripped only twice today.
Friday, January 11, 2013
~
1.5 miles barefoot on the sand yesterday. Nothing today but we left the beach.
I was hoping for a run evocative of a futuristic wasteland, lots of empty sand and sun with distant explosions. Our sojourn was close to Camp Lejeune, and for the last few days someone has been conducting training or testing. A few evenings ago, we thought it was just waves from the redoubled winds, but we realized the next day that we were hearing explosions. The day after that, the single explosions became series of explosions. I haven't heard explosions since we moved from Aberdeen Proving Ground. Truly a blast from the past!
I was sad to leave the beach even though the tides have shifted against my schedule: high waters and fluffy soft sands in the morning. My calves are a bit sore from the barefoot running and when I started sinking into the sand too deelply, I decided to walk instead.
We are now in the town we'll be living in, but in a hotel for the next several days. I'm not sure how this will impact running, but there are supposedly trails close to our new home. Maybe even a trail right behind the house, apparently (fingers crossed). I have become spoiled with the beach at my doorstep the last two weeks: less laundry. Is this too gross? Without ordinary passerby in close quarters, I don't feel that an absolutely fresh set of clothes is as necessary; airing out the clothes between workouts is good enough for several days.
Meanwhile, here at this hotel, this probably won't fly!
I was hoping for a run evocative of a futuristic wasteland, lots of empty sand and sun with distant explosions. Our sojourn was close to Camp Lejeune, and for the last few days someone has been conducting training or testing. A few evenings ago, we thought it was just waves from the redoubled winds, but we realized the next day that we were hearing explosions. The day after that, the single explosions became series of explosions. I haven't heard explosions since we moved from Aberdeen Proving Ground. Truly a blast from the past!
I was sad to leave the beach even though the tides have shifted against my schedule: high waters and fluffy soft sands in the morning. My calves are a bit sore from the barefoot running and when I started sinking into the sand too deelply, I decided to walk instead.
We are now in the town we'll be living in, but in a hotel for the next several days. I'm not sure how this will impact running, but there are supposedly trails close to our new home. Maybe even a trail right behind the house, apparently (fingers crossed). I have become spoiled with the beach at my doorstep the last two weeks: less laundry. Is this too gross? Without ordinary passerby in close quarters, I don't feel that an absolutely fresh set of clothes is as necessary; airing out the clothes between workouts is good enough for several days.
Meanwhile, here at this hotel, this probably won't fly!
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
~
It was warm enough to run barefoot today, so I did. First barefoot run in a long time and my feet are out of shape, so I ran only about a mile.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
good sand
Yesterday, the sand was really good. We ran past the 90's neon pink house and I was surprised to find out how large it really is, and that it doesn't sit further out on the sand than the other houses. 3.5 miles away, it looks like it's the same size, and half a house length or so in front of the surrounding houses. Marveling at the visual distortion caused by wide and relatively featureless expanses has become a hobby of mine.
It was sunny too, which is also visual appealing because it reminds me of these post-apocalyptic dreams (not quite nightmares) that I used to have regularly when I was younger, before I knew the meaning of post-apocalyptic. I knew only that most of the people on Earth were dead for some reason, and I was stuck alone with miles of sand and sun and sky (strangely, I don't remember any water). I'd been to very few beaches as a child, and all of them had been river or lake beaches, and I didn't particularly like going to the beach anyway; my beach dreams were a mix of initial horror and growing contentment and all kinds of awe. Usually when I run on a wide empty beach on a sunny day, I remember falling in love with void.
Total run: 7ish miles.
Today, the sand was still good and the run started off sunny but with a huge dark front looming. It looked like a wall, as if there was a limit to the ocean, a backdrop or something like that and something else, goodness knows what, maybe a bunch of ropes and black paint, behind it. The radiance of the sun was squeezed and condensed, the light sharpened. I had a minute or so to remember the scene before the cloud banks covered the sun and turned everything into just another overcast day. And of course this distraction obscured the lack of poop bags, and the dog had to go five or so minutes later, so we ran back, and back out.....so, 1.5 miles. Later on, when the sky was still merely overcast and not portentous at all, I jogged with my husband and the dog for about 3 miles, and there were dolphins again, but further away and less flashy than they or their relatives had been two days ago.
We also got some bad news regarding the place we were supposed to move into on the 4th, then on the 6th, then on the 11th, now the 15th or so? Originally we were supposed to be moving into another place (2 or 3 places ago) on the 18th of December; fortunately, this has extended our beach vacation enough that I can't be entirely fed up with North Carolina so far. I'm beginning to learn that the only way to get into a house or place by the agreed upon date is to rent from a housing manager somewhere off-post. The two times we had no issues moving in, that was the situation. All the other times, there have been delays upon delays. Not so bad now because we're at the beach--another time, we were living on a boat in Baltimore's inner harbour, which ROCKED--but we will have to move from here into a motel for some indeterminate while, instead of straight into a house. I'd better watch dolphins some more but, meanwhile, I will view a threatening sky as a warning in the future.
It was sunny too, which is also visual appealing because it reminds me of these post-apocalyptic dreams (not quite nightmares) that I used to have regularly when I was younger, before I knew the meaning of post-apocalyptic. I knew only that most of the people on Earth were dead for some reason, and I was stuck alone with miles of sand and sun and sky (strangely, I don't remember any water). I'd been to very few beaches as a child, and all of them had been river or lake beaches, and I didn't particularly like going to the beach anyway; my beach dreams were a mix of initial horror and growing contentment and all kinds of awe. Usually when I run on a wide empty beach on a sunny day, I remember falling in love with void.
Total run: 7ish miles.
Today, the sand was still good and the run started off sunny but with a huge dark front looming. It looked like a wall, as if there was a limit to the ocean, a backdrop or something like that and something else, goodness knows what, maybe a bunch of ropes and black paint, behind it. The radiance of the sun was squeezed and condensed, the light sharpened. I had a minute or so to remember the scene before the cloud banks covered the sun and turned everything into just another overcast day. And of course this distraction obscured the lack of poop bags, and the dog had to go five or so minutes later, so we ran back, and back out.....so, 1.5 miles. Later on, when the sky was still merely overcast and not portentous at all, I jogged with my husband and the dog for about 3 miles, and there were dolphins again, but further away and less flashy than they or their relatives had been two days ago.
We also got some bad news regarding the place we were supposed to move into on the 4th, then on the 6th, then on the 11th, now the 15th or so? Originally we were supposed to be moving into another place (2 or 3 places ago) on the 18th of December; fortunately, this has extended our beach vacation enough that I can't be entirely fed up with North Carolina so far. I'm beginning to learn that the only way to get into a house or place by the agreed upon date is to rent from a housing manager somewhere off-post. The two times we had no issues moving in, that was the situation. All the other times, there have been delays upon delays. Not so bad now because we're at the beach--another time, we were living on a boat in Baltimore's inner harbour, which ROCKED--but we will have to move from here into a motel for some indeterminate while, instead of straight into a house. I'd better watch dolphins some more but, meanwhile, I will view a threatening sky as a warning in the future.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
never the same as the day before
Yesterday, I jogged 15 minutes with the dog, then 15 more minutes with the dog and my husband. The sand was too soft; longer runs would have been too tiring.
The sand was firmer and better today, but I ran less than yesterday. I slept in today until nine and then prepared my exterior for a run more convincingly than my interior. The temptation to just walk the dog was great, but once I felt the firmness of the sand, I started jogging.
Further ahead, I saw a small pod of dolphins. I watched them for 5-6 minutes; the pod split into two, one group going out, and four dolphins coming closer to shore. After 5-6 minutes, I caught up to them, and I am a poor judge of distance but I think they were just a bus length away (probably that of an articulated bus). They were closer to me than any wild dolphins had ever been before. I could see their blowholes and even their eyes, and after a minute, one of them paused, holding his/her head above water and we exchanged a glance.
I'd read somewhere an account of someone locking eyes with a whale underwater, and since it was described as a pretty monumental experience, I've wondered what would make it so. I look into the eyes of animals pretty regularly, often meeting with simple blank wariness, if not fear, sometimes with what looks like curiosity, and regularly with a predictable palette of concern and hope and pleading (from my dog). Occasionally rather human-like, but nothing monumental so far.
When I exchanged a glance with the dolphin, it wasn't monumental--I think I had led myself to expect to see the wisdom of the ages or something absurd like that--but it was shocking in that it was not. It wasn't friendly. It was merely acknowledgement. Perhaps of relatively equivalent intelligence, but that's probably too much of a stretch of such a brief glance. It reminded me of being at work, not in one place in particular but in various places with halls that were a mix of people who worked there and people who did not, resulting in two veins of reception: A, ranging from bland pleasantness sometimes veering into helpfulness when someone looked lost, and B---well, actually, there was B1, ranging from joviality to awkwardness (if not contrived obliviousness), for familiar coworkers, and B2, acknowledgment, for unknown coworkers. A quick scan for ID badges, uniforms, purposed stride, whatever, and then an exchanged glance of acknowledgment. So, you're in this building too. Ok. Maybe a smile, maybe not until next time, not a whole lot of time to react because there are other things to get to.
The thing is, I was standing on the beach exchanging this glance not with someone in a suit in an office building, or in scrubs in a hospital, but with a naked glistening finned creature that then plunged back into the ocean. So, you're on this coast too. Ok.
A few of the other dolphins then quickly lifted their heads above water to look at me (before then, they were exposing just their blowholes), and then they started slapping the water with their tails, and a few of them started to roll, exposing pale underbelly. I watched them for several minutes, and I tried to get the dog to notice them, and he did, but there was no mutual recognition there. I have no idea what he thought of them, or vice versus. After a while, they stopped the tail slapping and moved away from the coast, stripping the fanfare from their feeding. I jogged alongside for a bit, back towards the house, but they were moving more slowly than I, and eventually I went into the house and fed the dog, and then we went up to the bedroom to see my husband. I told him about the dolphins and we talked a bit, then the dog suddenly sat up and looked outside. The bedroom has a patio window/door and a nice view.
There was a lady walking two dogs on the beach--I looked past her and saw the dolphins again.
My husband pulled on his running clothes and we ran out to watch them. They weren't as close as to the shore before, but the pod had acquired a fifth member. As we approached them, one of them rose out of the water vertically, half a body length out of the water. I'd never seen a dolphin in the wild do this before. We jogged closer to them and they were slapping the water and rolling again, and then one of them jumped clear out of the water. We got as close as possible and stopped running to watch them. I told my husband that maybe they could hear our voices and that might interest them; I felt obliged to reciprocate exhibitionism. How boring it must be to watch people who are silently standing motionless. Another one jumped out of the water, I yelled reflexively (something terribly erudite such as "whoa!") and a split second later, another one was in full air, a sleek question mark, muscles momentarily contracted into illusionary stockiness. I cheered and clapped this time, but that was perhaps gauche but I'd lost most of my wits by this point. With a few more slaps and rolls and partial breaches, they gradually settled back into feeding. We resumed our jog and when we passed the dolphins on the way back, they were further out still, and further increased in number (7 or so) and building a circular bubble net/fish trap. Another new sight for my bare eyes. I have seen countless dolphins during umpteen trips to the coast, but always at more of a distance, and always partially submersed, plenty of obscuring water between us.
Total jogged today: 10 + 15 minutes.
The sand was firmer and better today, but I ran less than yesterday. I slept in today until nine and then prepared my exterior for a run more convincingly than my interior. The temptation to just walk the dog was great, but once I felt the firmness of the sand, I started jogging.
Further ahead, I saw a small pod of dolphins. I watched them for 5-6 minutes; the pod split into two, one group going out, and four dolphins coming closer to shore. After 5-6 minutes, I caught up to them, and I am a poor judge of distance but I think they were just a bus length away (probably that of an articulated bus). They were closer to me than any wild dolphins had ever been before. I could see their blowholes and even their eyes, and after a minute, one of them paused, holding his/her head above water and we exchanged a glance.
I'd read somewhere an account of someone locking eyes with a whale underwater, and since it was described as a pretty monumental experience, I've wondered what would make it so. I look into the eyes of animals pretty regularly, often meeting with simple blank wariness, if not fear, sometimes with what looks like curiosity, and regularly with a predictable palette of concern and hope and pleading (from my dog). Occasionally rather human-like, but nothing monumental so far.
When I exchanged a glance with the dolphin, it wasn't monumental--I think I had led myself to expect to see the wisdom of the ages or something absurd like that--but it was shocking in that it was not. It wasn't friendly. It was merely acknowledgement. Perhaps of relatively equivalent intelligence, but that's probably too much of a stretch of such a brief glance. It reminded me of being at work, not in one place in particular but in various places with halls that were a mix of people who worked there and people who did not, resulting in two veins of reception: A, ranging from bland pleasantness sometimes veering into helpfulness when someone looked lost, and B---well, actually, there was B1, ranging from joviality to awkwardness (if not contrived obliviousness), for familiar coworkers, and B2, acknowledgment, for unknown coworkers. A quick scan for ID badges, uniforms, purposed stride, whatever, and then an exchanged glance of acknowledgment. So, you're in this building too. Ok. Maybe a smile, maybe not until next time, not a whole lot of time to react because there are other things to get to.
The thing is, I was standing on the beach exchanging this glance not with someone in a suit in an office building, or in scrubs in a hospital, but with a naked glistening finned creature that then plunged back into the ocean. So, you're on this coast too. Ok.
A few of the other dolphins then quickly lifted their heads above water to look at me (before then, they were exposing just their blowholes), and then they started slapping the water with their tails, and a few of them started to roll, exposing pale underbelly. I watched them for several minutes, and I tried to get the dog to notice them, and he did, but there was no mutual recognition there. I have no idea what he thought of them, or vice versus. After a while, they stopped the tail slapping and moved away from the coast, stripping the fanfare from their feeding. I jogged alongside for a bit, back towards the house, but they were moving more slowly than I, and eventually I went into the house and fed the dog, and then we went up to the bedroom to see my husband. I told him about the dolphins and we talked a bit, then the dog suddenly sat up and looked outside. The bedroom has a patio window/door and a nice view.
There was a lady walking two dogs on the beach--I looked past her and saw the dolphins again.
My husband pulled on his running clothes and we ran out to watch them. They weren't as close as to the shore before, but the pod had acquired a fifth member. As we approached them, one of them rose out of the water vertically, half a body length out of the water. I'd never seen a dolphin in the wild do this before. We jogged closer to them and they were slapping the water and rolling again, and then one of them jumped clear out of the water. We got as close as possible and stopped running to watch them. I told my husband that maybe they could hear our voices and that might interest them; I felt obliged to reciprocate exhibitionism. How boring it must be to watch people who are silently standing motionless. Another one jumped out of the water, I yelled reflexively (something terribly erudite such as "whoa!") and a split second later, another one was in full air, a sleek question mark, muscles momentarily contracted into illusionary stockiness. I cheered and clapped this time, but that was perhaps gauche but I'd lost most of my wits by this point. With a few more slaps and rolls and partial breaches, they gradually settled back into feeding. We resumed our jog and when we passed the dolphins on the way back, they were further out still, and further increased in number (7 or so) and building a circular bubble net/fish trap. Another new sight for my bare eyes. I have seen countless dolphins during umpteen trips to the coast, but always at more of a distance, and always partially submersed, plenty of obscuring water between us.
Total jogged today: 10 + 15 minutes.
Friday, January 4, 2013
superior beach run
Yesterday: rainy, windy, 2-ish mile jog with the dog while a fishing boat slowly swept the ocean in the distance. There was nobody else out.
Today: sunny, cold, but no wind and the lowest tide I've seen here so far. The beach was especially wide and flat and firm, and the suitable path was generous. It depends on the time and on the beach, but sometimes it's tricky finding the right vein to run on, the delicate point between wet and dry, new and old, spongy and flaky, where the sand retains just the right amount of moisture to stick together and support footfalls soundly. Sometimes the right vein zigzags around small water-sculpted mounds and dips, or disappears altogether. Sometimes the right vein stretches straight for miles and miles of pool-table texture, soft but unyielding. I've never actually run on a pool-table; I imagine it to feel like stiff velvet.
We had miles, or at least three. My half-hour run turned into an hour thanks to the superior sand conditions. Shortly after realizing the rarity of the footing available, I noticed something bright pink in the distance. It looked like faded fluorescent pink, like something left over from another decade. Was it a person, sign, or house? Distance had distorted it; I couldn't tell how large it was nor where it sat in relation to the equally blurred and stretched objects around it. We'd have to get closer to see. Might as well run for an hour--or at least, run out for a half-hour and see how close I got to it.
Extending a run from 30 to 60 minutes, especially after a lazy spell, seems radical but it's actually sensible for me. Runs that are between 30 and 60 minutes are usually unsatisfying. They're long enough to feel fatiguing, but too short for sufficient endorphin release. ~8 miles is usually the best distance for me, but since I'm still sort of out of shape (and possibly still lung-gunked, although I feel that things have cleared up a LOT), I stuck to a half-hour, confirmed that the bright light pink object was a house, and turned back.
It has been a while since I've had such an easy hour-long run.
Today: sunny, cold, but no wind and the lowest tide I've seen here so far. The beach was especially wide and flat and firm, and the suitable path was generous. It depends on the time and on the beach, but sometimes it's tricky finding the right vein to run on, the delicate point between wet and dry, new and old, spongy and flaky, where the sand retains just the right amount of moisture to stick together and support footfalls soundly. Sometimes the right vein zigzags around small water-sculpted mounds and dips, or disappears altogether. Sometimes the right vein stretches straight for miles and miles of pool-table texture, soft but unyielding. I've never actually run on a pool-table; I imagine it to feel like stiff velvet.
We had miles, or at least three. My half-hour run turned into an hour thanks to the superior sand conditions. Shortly after realizing the rarity of the footing available, I noticed something bright pink in the distance. It looked like faded fluorescent pink, like something left over from another decade. Was it a person, sign, or house? Distance had distorted it; I couldn't tell how large it was nor where it sat in relation to the equally blurred and stretched objects around it. We'd have to get closer to see. Might as well run for an hour--or at least, run out for a half-hour and see how close I got to it.
Extending a run from 30 to 60 minutes, especially after a lazy spell, seems radical but it's actually sensible for me. Runs that are between 30 and 60 minutes are usually unsatisfying. They're long enough to feel fatiguing, but too short for sufficient endorphin release. ~8 miles is usually the best distance for me, but since I'm still sort of out of shape (and possibly still lung-gunked, although I feel that things have cleared up a LOT), I stuck to a half-hour, confirmed that the bright light pink object was a house, and turned back.
It has been a while since I've had such an easy hour-long run.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Resolution #1
Don't eat a large meal right before a run. The dog and I jogged 3ish miles, then I ate breakfast (oatmeal), then a few hours later, I ate second breakfast, which was two bowls of spaghetti and sauce. Originally, I'd decided not to join my husband for his run because I was full of spaghetti and sauce, but the mass dropped to what I thought was a safe low, and out I went, but up it went gradually, until after about a mile when I decided to walk and finish digesting my meal properly before it took the wrong exit. I am not unaccustomed to running right after eating, but the portion size this time was simply too large.
This was yesterday. My first run of 2013! We didn't wake up early enough for the dawn, but I think it was too cloudy for a proper one.
This morning was less chromatic still. I woke up to a dark heavy blue which gradually became a light grey. The most memorable part of today's run was that the wind has finally shifted direction: until today, it has always blown from the south when I've been out. I didn't notice at first, it was a very gentle breeze, and so I ran into what I thought was it, but it was against me on the way out. Fortunately, the temperatures were warm enough that this wasn't an issue, even though we were getting rained on. 3ish miles again, and I walked for about 15 minutes afterward.
The dog did not appreciate the walk back because it was in the rain and wind, and it delayed his breakfast.
I may run again today, probably not if it's still raining.
This was yesterday. My first run of 2013! We didn't wake up early enough for the dawn, but I think it was too cloudy for a proper one.
This morning was less chromatic still. I woke up to a dark heavy blue which gradually became a light grey. The most memorable part of today's run was that the wind has finally shifted direction: until today, it has always blown from the south when I've been out. I didn't notice at first, it was a very gentle breeze, and so I ran into what I thought was it, but it was against me on the way out. Fortunately, the temperatures were warm enough that this wasn't an issue, even though we were getting rained on. 3ish miles again, and I walked for about 15 minutes afterward.
The dog did not appreciate the walk back because it was in the rain and wind, and it delayed his breakfast.
I may run again today, probably not if it's still raining.
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