It's Friday morning. Three guesses as to what I'm doing. No, I'm not writing a "Poot" story, though that is on my list. No, I am not dressing for a big run, though I do plan to shuffle some today. Yes, I am in bed with Jeff and Luvie, but Baby Kitty just skipped out on us. It is not raining, but the coffee is good, the house is cool, and I can pretend the weather is Eskimo cold on the outside. I'm comfortable, my computer beckons, and I yearn to write. Writing, it's what I do now instead of shooting stuff anymore.
Besides writing, running, and reading-- the three "Rs"-- I intend to start loading my pack for Thursday. That's the day, the long awaited rematch with The Great Noxapater Journey Run. The countdown has begun. I feel like a little boy waiting for Christmas. I have a list made out. Will Santa bring my dream? Two years ago he left me with ashes and switches. But this time around I have been good. Or at least a little better.
We are now within that time limit in which the weather forecasts actually means something. I learned long ago that a ten day forecast was about as reliable as a triathlon bicycle on a gravel road. It just doesn't work. The five day forecast is pretty accurate. Days six and seven are an educated guess. Days eight, nine, and ten are a pure guess. That's just my opinion, but I'm right. Thursday is now seven days away and the prediction is for a high of 64 degrees with morning showers. I can deal with that. By the way, The Weather Channel App on my phone now has a 15 day forecast. Are you kidding me? I even heard one meteorologist say, "Anything over seven days is witchcraft." Yes, although I don't believe in it, I catch myself taking a pee from time to time. I mean peek, I take a peek at that long-range weather guess on my phone.
Just now, Baby Kitty has jumped up on an end table across from the bed and Jeff is having a fit. He wants all the cats on the bed. So do I, but I have learned that "you don't always get what you want." At least we still have Luvie, who is snoring like an old man sleeping off a night of drinking with other old men. I find Luvie's snoring to be soothing and not annoying at all. Cat snoring is not as soothing as cat purring, but I will take what I can get.
Another thing I ought to do today is make a phone call to Seldom Seen and see if I can ferry out some supplies. I need to drop off some Gatorade, gels, Moon Pies, and breakfast foods. This will prevent me from having to carry all that in my pack on day one. Eating my first meal of the day there will save me from going back into town for breakfast the morning of day two. For me, backtracking on a long run is disturbing, disheartening, dangerous even. It drives me batty.
Anyway, short story long, I am feeling the anticipation and that is a good thing. There is so much emotion in this for me, and the motivation for this adventure is multifaceted to the point that I don't fully understand it myself. That's OK. I'm done with trying to figure it all out. Now, I only desire to experience it. I want hours on the road alone with my thoughts. I yearn to stagger into the Masonite Cemetery in downtown Louisville and visit the graves of my great-grandfather and -mother. I want desperately to scratch this goal off my bucket list. It has been there a long long time.
Well, I have pretty much worn myself out typing, so I think I will take a nap now. Later, I will let you know how far I got today in making preparations for Thursday.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
They Are Here Already
They strike only when an important athletic event approaches. Landfall can vary anywhere from one week to two weeks out, but sometimes it is as short as a day. My schedule seems to be one determining factor in when they strike if at all. In times of high activity, the growing anxiety doesn't have a chance to make its appearance until the EndangeredSwimmer stands face to face with the long-awaited event. At other times, they have mysteriously been missing, no-shows like many of the students I don't teach. Like a flubbed meteorological forecast, I have seen the times when never come to pass.
This time the nibbles of nerves have already begun, and like the contractions of a woman in labor, they are bound to grow stronger and more frequent as D-day approaches. Maybe the fact that D-day for this event has come and gone before and D-day turned out to be disaster day has caused my anxiety to be ratcheted up higher than normal. I came, I saw, and I was conquered in my initial match with The Great Noxapater Journey Run, walking on crutches for six full weeks after my first ill-fated attempt. What will this try hold?
November 19th at approximately 12:00 pm is my scheduled launch to once more leave my wife's house on West Monroe Avenue and begin shuffling towards Noxapater, approximately 117 miles away. I don't know what to expect, only that I am better trained and more experienced than I was in December of 2013. Still I am far from as trained as I would like to be, and I still have no experience with multi-day runs. I had intended to try one or two two-day runs, but who knows why I failed to pull that off.
I have already written about my reasons for doing this. Several times. Yet I feel compelled to reproduce once more as best I can my limited understanding of my own motivation. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am working school registration now which means I am sitting in my office, and I just finished watching every YouTube video ever posted. Boy, that took a while. I posted one myself earlier today, so I just turned to the blog instead of that stack of papers that needs grading. Why oh why do I loathe grading as much as I do? I think it hurts my feelings to see how little of what I try to pass on to the students actually makes it into their skills sets. Be that as it may, I will tell you again why I am attempting to run for five days:
This time the nibbles of nerves have already begun, and like the contractions of a woman in labor, they are bound to grow stronger and more frequent as D-day approaches. Maybe the fact that D-day for this event has come and gone before and D-day turned out to be disaster day has caused my anxiety to be ratcheted up higher than normal. I came, I saw, and I was conquered in my initial match with The Great Noxapater Journey Run, walking on crutches for six full weeks after my first ill-fated attempt. What will this try hold?
November 19th at approximately 12:00 pm is my scheduled launch to once more leave my wife's house on West Monroe Avenue and begin shuffling towards Noxapater, approximately 117 miles away. I don't know what to expect, only that I am better trained and more experienced than I was in December of 2013. Still I am far from as trained as I would like to be, and I still have no experience with multi-day runs. I had intended to try one or two two-day runs, but who knows why I failed to pull that off.
I have already written about my reasons for doing this. Several times. Yet I feel compelled to reproduce once more as best I can my limited understanding of my own motivation. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am working school registration now which means I am sitting in my office, and I just finished watching every YouTube video ever posted. Boy, that took a while. I posted one myself earlier today, so I just turned to the blog instead of that stack of papers that needs grading. Why oh why do I loathe grading as much as I do? I think it hurts my feelings to see how little of what I try to pass on to the students actually makes it into their skills sets. Be that as it may, I will tell you again why I am attempting to run for five days:
- I like physical challenges, ones that make me train hard over a long period of time.
- I like physical challenges that force me to think hard as well as train that way.
- I love goal setting, investing sweat and effort into the project for long periods of time with and end in mind.
- I love the feeling I receive when I finally pull it off, that deep-seated satisfaction that is as real and tangible as the bulging set of keys in my pocket.
- I crave alone time, time to reflect and not reflect; time to think and not to think; time to just be and let nature seep herself into my soul at her own pace.
- I love adventure and my one-day adventure runs have been a delight that form part of that good place I can go to when life sends me scurrying for some solace.
- I am re-enacting my great-grandfather's epic journey from the Utah Territory to Louisville, Mississippi, a journey he made by foot in 1895 at the tender age of twelve. I plan to visit his and my great-grandmother's graves in downtown Louisville before making my way to Noxapater (population 472) where I will spend some time with my Aunt Mary and Uncle Paul.
With the run a week and two days out, I am entering that span of reduced activity that leaves more time and more energy for the butterflies to circle my stomach and remind me that my mouth and keyboard have written checks my legs might not be able to cash. What else is new?
Monday, November 9, 2015
The Week in Review
It wasn't the week I planned, but it was the week I got and not a bad one at that. I had originally hoped to bust fifty miles for the week as my last large training cycle before The Great Noxapater Journey Run. Several things squashed that. What I did do was run 4.65 Monday, and 13.17 multi-paced miles Tuesday. Wednesday I only shuffled 2.6 because I had a sore calf. I took off running Thursday and drove to Cleveland where I visited my grandchildren and swam at DSU. I am still a star in my grandson's eyes and he even asked me about Marcus. Everybody likes Marcus. At the pool, I swam
1,050
5 X 300
4 X 50 @ 1:30
150
total: 2,900 yards.
It felt good to swim again, but this time I felt my lack of conditioning. I have swum very little of late and as a result Mark Blackwood whipped me on almost every set. That won't happen come February.
Friday was the turning point of the week in terms of running. I wrote about that in my last blog post. Looking back, I can thank God for slowing me down and thus giving me a good ten-miler Saturday in Batesville (also written about in the last blog post).
Sunday, the Centerville crew traveled to Oxford for the DFM Walk for Diabetes. It was a beautiful day, and the turnout was good. Our pastor and his wife were there and although her health is far from stellar, she walked some of the hilly course. Brother Gary pushed her in a wheelchair for much of the walk, but she started and finished the event on her feet. I was proud of her.
For the week, I
swam 2,900 yards = 2,650 meters,
ran 32.79 miles, and
walked 6.13 miles.
The Great Noxapater Journey Run is now under two weeks away. I am become a little nervous but in a good way. I can't wait. Two work weeks and I will be on the road.
1,050
5 X 300
4 X 50 @ 1:30
150
total: 2,900 yards.
It felt good to swim again, but this time I felt my lack of conditioning. I have swum very little of late and as a result Mark Blackwood whipped me on almost every set. That won't happen come February.
Friday was the turning point of the week in terms of running. I wrote about that in my last blog post. Looking back, I can thank God for slowing me down and thus giving me a good ten-miler Saturday in Batesville (also written about in the last blog post).
Sunday, the Centerville crew traveled to Oxford for the DFM Walk for Diabetes. It was a beautiful day, and the turnout was good. Our pastor and his wife were there and although her health is far from stellar, she walked some of the hilly course. Brother Gary pushed her in a wheelchair for much of the walk, but she started and finished the event on her feet. I was proud of her.
For the week, I
swam 2,900 yards = 2,650 meters,
ran 32.79 miles, and
walked 6.13 miles.
The Great Noxapater Journey Run is now under two weeks away. I am become a little nervous but in a good way. I can't wait. Two work weeks and I will be on the road.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Fattie Ten Mile Champ
Oh no, I thought as the alarm went off at 5:10 am, and my ears quickly picked up the sound of rain outside. Forrest, my son, and I were scheduled to race each other in Batesville, Mississippi for the Fasttrack Fatties Athletic Club Ten Mile State Championship. I don't want to do this.
Forrest picked me up at 5:30, and we promptly drove to Waffle House for some early morning nutrition. The service was terrible but the food good and we managed to get out the door in time to leave early enough to make the two hour drive to Batesville, find the packet pick up, and show up at the race start.
The rain slackened as we drove, giving us hope that we just might get by without getting wet. It was still warm enough that a soaking would not have been too bad. But the temps were predicted to fall throughout the day. It could get bad, I mused with dread.
We made Batesville, found the race site, and parked the car. To make a short story long, instead of getting a T-shirt, the ten milers received nice hoodies. They proved indispensable later as we stood in the chilling air, damp with sweat, and waiting on the awards ceremony.
My plans for the day were modest at best. Originally, I had planned to run ten miles Friday leaving me with tired legs for the race. My reasoning was twofold: First, I thought I had no shot at placing in the race (I looked up last year's times on the internet), and second, I knew I had only two chances of outrunning my son: slim and none and slim left town. It's more important, I reasoned, that I get in a good volume for the week to prepare me for The Great Noxapater Journey Run.
Then, Friday, I went out for my run and .82 in I received a shot of pain in my left calf. It hit again, harder, a few steps later. O Lord, please, I prayed as I slowed to a walk and realized that Saturday and the journey run itself were both in jeopardy. I walked and shuffled slowly for a total of about three miles and went home to pray.
So all the way to Batesville I thought, maybe I can just shuffle through this and not damage myself. I hope. I even told Forrest, "I'm going slow today," and I meant it.
We started promptly at 8:00 am, and I did not feel well running. I looked at my Garmin and saw my early pace was 12:35 per mile. I felt heavy and out of shape. About a half mile in, I slowly began to pick the pace up some, went through the first mile in 9:42, and had no foreboding signs from the calf, so I set a goal for myself to run the ten under 10:00 per mile. Then I started feeling better. Duh, like I haven't learned from the past to go out SLOW the first mile. At one point during the second mile, I was running 8:40, my current 10K race pace.
During the second mile, about half way through I think, I came upon Forrest who I had assumed was far far ahead. I took my hunter orange cap off and stuffed it under my fuel belt. I then shifted outside and passed, hoping he maybe would not see me. I thought I had gotten away with it, but a bit later I saw someone in my peripheral vision move up on my left. I took a look and it was Forrest. Ruse foiled.
I, we, ran the second mile in 8:56. The next few miles were a ragged pattern of Forrest pulling ahead and me catching back up. I did the third mile in 9:17. Mile three to three and a half were in the industrial park and delta flat. I was surprised at how flat the course was. I caught Forrest during this stretch and while we ran side by side, he dropped his phone which went tumbling end over end. I let out a loud and long "HOOO Hooo Hooo!" Some nearby runners got a big laugh out of that. Then he dropped it again. I gave him another Hoo Hoo and told him, "God is on my side." We both laughed and I laughed so hard it hurt and my legs went week.
We left the industrial park and the course turned upward at three and a half. The next mile and a half were tough. I don't run hills well, but still I managed at 9:15 fourth mile, and a 9:21 fifth mile. Forrest pulled decisively ahead on the hills but as we approached mile six, I thought, the start and stop are at the same elevation. We have been climbing for almost two miles. Soon we have to descend.
The mile six marker was at a turn and the road was flattening out. I was getting my pace back down and finished mile six in 9:21. As I rounded the turn, there was Forrest. I decided to at least give him one more big fright so I pushed, caught and passed him. He immediately pulled alongside me. Then the road turned downhill. I run downhills well. I think most runners fear them. If they are not steep, they don't tear your quads up IF, you run road level (lean into the downhill) and let your legs go (no braking). That's what I did, and I dropped Forrest in the process. I checked my watch, and at one point I was running mile seven at a 7:49 pace. That juiced me so much I thought, I'll make him really afraid, but who I frightened was me.
I did mile seven in 8:19, my current 5K race pace. When the course made a right hand turn, I looked back for Forrest. He was a little over a hundred meters behind. That's when I became frightened. For the first time that day, I thought, I can win, and from then on I was running scared.
Mile eight was completed in 8:40. The legs were talking to me at this point, but I tried not to listen. Mile mine was done in 8:50. I did my best to make mile ten faster, but a suffering 8:50 was all I could muster. I crossed the line a couple of minutes ahead of Forrest, and I was instantly rewarded with that deep sense of satisfaction that comes from a good effort, the kind where you know things worked out well and you left it all on the road.
I liked the course, the hoodie is super, and I not only beat Forrest, but placed second in my age group. All the ten milers received a super nice finisher's medal, and I got an additional medal for placing.
I plan to be back next year. Maybe I can unfat a little, train some more, and move up into another age group, the 60-64. I'll kill those old guys.
Forrest picked me up at 5:30, and we promptly drove to Waffle House for some early morning nutrition. The service was terrible but the food good and we managed to get out the door in time to leave early enough to make the two hour drive to Batesville, find the packet pick up, and show up at the race start.
The rain slackened as we drove, giving us hope that we just might get by without getting wet. It was still warm enough that a soaking would not have been too bad. But the temps were predicted to fall throughout the day. It could get bad, I mused with dread.
 |
| Forrest and I at the start |
We made Batesville, found the race site, and parked the car. To make a short story long, instead of getting a T-shirt, the ten milers received nice hoodies. They proved indispensable later as we stood in the chilling air, damp with sweat, and waiting on the awards ceremony.
My plans for the day were modest at best. Originally, I had planned to run ten miles Friday leaving me with tired legs for the race. My reasoning was twofold: First, I thought I had no shot at placing in the race (I looked up last year's times on the internet), and second, I knew I had only two chances of outrunning my son: slim and none and slim left town. It's more important, I reasoned, that I get in a good volume for the week to prepare me for The Great Noxapater Journey Run.
Then, Friday, I went out for my run and .82 in I received a shot of pain in my left calf. It hit again, harder, a few steps later. O Lord, please, I prayed as I slowed to a walk and realized that Saturday and the journey run itself were both in jeopardy. I walked and shuffled slowly for a total of about three miles and went home to pray.
So all the way to Batesville I thought, maybe I can just shuffle through this and not damage myself. I hope. I even told Forrest, "I'm going slow today," and I meant it.
We started promptly at 8:00 am, and I did not feel well running. I looked at my Garmin and saw my early pace was 12:35 per mile. I felt heavy and out of shape. About a half mile in, I slowly began to pick the pace up some, went through the first mile in 9:42, and had no foreboding signs from the calf, so I set a goal for myself to run the ten under 10:00 per mile. Then I started feeling better. Duh, like I haven't learned from the past to go out SLOW the first mile. At one point during the second mile, I was running 8:40, my current 10K race pace.
During the second mile, about half way through I think, I came upon Forrest who I had assumed was far far ahead. I took my hunter orange cap off and stuffed it under my fuel belt. I then shifted outside and passed, hoping he maybe would not see me. I thought I had gotten away with it, but a bit later I saw someone in my peripheral vision move up on my left. I took a look and it was Forrest. Ruse foiled.
I, we, ran the second mile in 8:56. The next few miles were a ragged pattern of Forrest pulling ahead and me catching back up. I did the third mile in 9:17. Mile three to three and a half were in the industrial park and delta flat. I was surprised at how flat the course was. I caught Forrest during this stretch and while we ran side by side, he dropped his phone which went tumbling end over end. I let out a loud and long "HOOO Hooo Hooo!" Some nearby runners got a big laugh out of that. Then he dropped it again. I gave him another Hoo Hoo and told him, "God is on my side." We both laughed and I laughed so hard it hurt and my legs went week.
We left the industrial park and the course turned upward at three and a half. The next mile and a half were tough. I don't run hills well, but still I managed at 9:15 fourth mile, and a 9:21 fifth mile. Forrest pulled decisively ahead on the hills but as we approached mile six, I thought, the start and stop are at the same elevation. We have been climbing for almost two miles. Soon we have to descend.
The mile six marker was at a turn and the road was flattening out. I was getting my pace back down and finished mile six in 9:21. As I rounded the turn, there was Forrest. I decided to at least give him one more big fright so I pushed, caught and passed him. He immediately pulled alongside me. Then the road turned downhill. I run downhills well. I think most runners fear them. If they are not steep, they don't tear your quads up IF, you run road level (lean into the downhill) and let your legs go (no braking). That's what I did, and I dropped Forrest in the process. I checked my watch, and at one point I was running mile seven at a 7:49 pace. That juiced me so much I thought, I'll make him really afraid, but who I frightened was me.
I did mile seven in 8:19, my current 5K race pace. When the course made a right hand turn, I looked back for Forrest. He was a little over a hundred meters behind. That's when I became frightened. For the first time that day, I thought, I can win, and from then on I was running scared.
Mile eight was completed in 8:40. The legs were talking to me at this point, but I tried not to listen. Mile mine was done in 8:50. I did my best to make mile ten faster, but a suffering 8:50 was all I could muster. I crossed the line a couple of minutes ahead of Forrest, and I was instantly rewarded with that deep sense of satisfaction that comes from a good effort, the kind where you know things worked out well and you left it all on the road.
I liked the course, the hoodie is super, and I not only beat Forrest, but placed second in my age group. All the ten milers received a super nice finisher's medal, and I got an additional medal for placing.
I plan to be back next year. Maybe I can unfat a little, train some more, and move up into another age group, the 60-64. I'll kill those old guys.
Friday, November 6, 2015
In Praise of Cats and Naps
I'm in bed with cats, a weenie dog, and coffee. The drizzly rain has stopped, but the lazy mood has stayed.
I just might remain here all day. Probably, however, I will drag out once the coffee pot runs dry and try to do something productive. But for now, I feel that taking it easy is pretty productive.
I suppose that is just one reason I like and value cats so much. They know how to rest, and they appreciate the benefits of a good nap. Unlike dogs, cats have no need to impress a human with activity. I once had a dog, a good dog-- an outside one-- who thought she had to arise to her feet and point the pear tree every time I exited the back door. She guarded that tree zealously and to the best of her abilities, against squirrels and jaybirds, and she felt the need to constantly show me she was on the job. I appreciated that.
Not so with cats.
Cats have no shame at sloth. Rightfully so I might add. I agree wholeheartedly that napping is not only a good activity and a necessary activity, but a divine one at that, and felines are the ultimate evangelists for this bit of neglected theological truth. Even God rested on the seventh day. If it's good enough for God, it's good enough for me. It seems sometimes that much of man never got the memo. I framed it.
Rest on brothers and sisters. There is always time for work.
Tomorrow.
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
And the Champ Is . . .
By Jay Unver
I recently sat down with the new Big ASS World Open Water Swimming Champion, Randy Beets. We discussed his victory, his plans, and of course his rivalry with Zane Hodge.
Unver: First of all, let me say congratulations on your victory.
Beets: Thank you very much. It was a long time coming and it feels great.
Unver: Tell me about the swim. How did you feel?
Beets: I felt good from the start. I knew early on it was going to be an above average day for me. The water temp was perfect, and we had a good flow.
Unver: Were you disappointed that Hodge was not there?
Beets: That @$$. He's such a coward, a wussie, a wimp. If I could get my hands on him I would beat the #&@** da(( $i++ out of his a$$.
Unver: Tell me how you really feel.
Beets: I think he is a low down, worthless piece of crap who tried to taint my victory. If he were here right now I would stomp his little buzzard butt into the ground. You would have to stop it or be a witness in my trail.
Unver: That's pretty much what he said about you last year. He was shocked that you failed to show.
Beets: I was sick. Was he sick this year? No. He withdrew. It's not the same thing. He knew he was in for a whuppin and he just bailed out. It's shameful really what he did. I think Nomann should fine and suspend him, but it will never happen because Hodge is Nomann's little fair-haired boy.
Unver: That's pretty much what he said about you last year. He was shocked that you failed to show.
Beets: I was sick. Was he sick this year? No. He withdrew. It's not the same thing. He knew he was in for a whuppin and he just bailed out. It's shameful really what he did. I think Nomann should fine and suspend him, but it will never happen because Hodge is Nomann's little fair-haired boy.
Unver: So you don't believe there was an adequate reason for him not being there? He wanted to mess you up?
Beets: He found out at the Chicot Challenge that I could match him stroke for stroke. He was so stunned after that swim that he couldn't speak for a long time. I blew him out of the water, and he was immediately looking for a way out.
Unver: You forget, I was there. I'm not sure his emotional state was why he spoke so little. I was under the impression that he was too busy eating cookies to talk.
Beets: Dang his cookies. He only gave me like two. He ate a whole durn bucket full by himself. What a hog. What a dog. What slime. What a sorry excuse of a sportsman.
Unver: You forget, I was there. I'm not sure his emotional state was why he spoke so little. I was under the impression that he was too busy eating cookies to talk.
Beets: Dang his cookies. He only gave me like two. He ate a whole durn bucket full by himself. What a hog. What a dog. What slime. What a sorry excuse of a sportsman.
Unver: What about next year?
Beets: He won't show up. He's over as a threat at the Suck. I'll be the champion forever now.
Unver: What about the Chicot Challenge? Will you be involved with that?
Beets: I don't know. In the past, we have been able to put our differences aside and work together on a project that was, is, bigger and more important than either of us. This time, I don't know. The rift has grown pretty wide, and I just don't know if I could hold back an assault. I think I would whip his little butt if we came into contact with each other right now.
Unver: But there is time for you to enjoy your victory and get over Hodge.
Beets: I'm not yet over the 105 pictures he posted on Facebook last year, taunting me before the race. You knew about that? the 105 pictures?
Unver: He said that is the real reason you didn't show up in 2014 for Swim the Suck.
Beets: Dang what he says. I was sick. His stupid pictures had nothing to do with it!
Unver: But you just said that you weren't over it, the pictures he posted mocking you.
Beets: I'm not over being pissed off and thinking he needs an @$$ whuppin'. All of that was uncalled for. He has no restraint. He can't keep things in moderation. He has no sense of when enough is enough. He doesn't know when to stop. Since his momma didn't teach him how to act, I will have to do it for her.
Unver: Let's shift the conversation away from Hodge and back to you. What's next?
Beets: Maybe a trip to Mississippi for some fisticuffs. Maybe the Pensacola Bay Bridge Swim which is another one Hodge always ducked me in.
Unver: He says it just doesn't work in his schedule with the Chicot Challenge so shortly after.
Beets: He always has a excuse. Did you ever notice that, or is he your little fair-haired boy too?
Unver: I'm just a reporter.
Beets: Well report this.
Beets stood up and took a picture of Hodge from his back pocket. With a wicked snarl on his face, he ripped the photograph to pieces, tossed the shreds to the floor, and spit on them. He then wipped is feet on them and stormed out of the room.
Unver: What about the Chicot Challenge? Will you be involved with that?
Beets: I don't know. In the past, we have been able to put our differences aside and work together on a project that was, is, bigger and more important than either of us. This time, I don't know. The rift has grown pretty wide, and I just don't know if I could hold back an assault. I think I would whip his little butt if we came into contact with each other right now.
Unver: But there is time for you to enjoy your victory and get over Hodge.
Beets: I'm not yet over the 105 pictures he posted on Facebook last year, taunting me before the race. You knew about that? the 105 pictures?
Unver: He said that is the real reason you didn't show up in 2014 for Swim the Suck.
Beets: Dang what he says. I was sick. His stupid pictures had nothing to do with it!
Unver: But you just said that you weren't over it, the pictures he posted mocking you.
Beets: I'm not over being pissed off and thinking he needs an @$$ whuppin'. All of that was uncalled for. He has no restraint. He can't keep things in moderation. He has no sense of when enough is enough. He doesn't know when to stop. Since his momma didn't teach him how to act, I will have to do it for her.
Unver: Let's shift the conversation away from Hodge and back to you. What's next?
Beets: Maybe a trip to Mississippi for some fisticuffs. Maybe the Pensacola Bay Bridge Swim which is another one Hodge always ducked me in.
Unver: He says it just doesn't work in his schedule with the Chicot Challenge so shortly after.
Beets: He always has a excuse. Did you ever notice that, or is he your little fair-haired boy too?
Unver: I'm just a reporter.
Beets: Well report this.
Beets stood up and took a picture of Hodge from his back pocket. With a wicked snarl on his face, he ripped the photograph to pieces, tossed the shreds to the floor, and spit on them. He then wipped is feet on them and stormed out of the room.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Luvie's Report
The week of 10/25-10/31 was a drop down week in my run training, but I didn't expect to drop down as much as I did. I had the pleasure of preaching a revival at Centerville Baptist, the little church Penny and I attend and recently joined. I enjoyed some pulpit time because I have had very little of that over the last year. I preached "Faith in The Book of Genesis," "Faith in Habakkuk," and "Belief in the Gospel of John." They were big messages that swept through entire books, which meant they were both challenging and fun for me.
Monday I ran 4.3, and Tuesday I did my longest run of the week with 12.07. Out of my dozen miles on Tuesday, 4.35 of them were at 10K race pace. I also did some squats after the long run so my legs were pretty much toast after that. Wednesday I did an easy 2.12 as I was pressed for time and hobbling on legs too tired for walking. Due to the revival, I ran not all on Thursday and only 2.42 miles Friday.
After church Friday, we had our Harvest Festival, which meant we ate a lot of food and had a cake walk. Funny how I enjoy things like that now. There was a time when a cake walk would have a) bored me, b) irritated me, c) disgusted me, or d) all of the above. The answer is "d" but not any more. I won a nice brownie dish that I have guarded jealously and consumed with vigor. We also had an eating contest at the church Friday night and John Misterfeldt, my training partner who was visiting to hear me preach, ate so much that he won first and second place.
Saturday and Sunday were spent resting as much as possible. It was not possible to rest as much as I needed to or wanted to but I got in a lot of leisure.
This week, 11/1-11/7, is the planned biggie of the year. I hope to bust out around fifty miles running and a dozen or more walking before starting my taper for The Great Noxapater Journey Run.
Monday I ran 4.3, and Tuesday I did my longest run of the week with 12.07. Out of my dozen miles on Tuesday, 4.35 of them were at 10K race pace. I also did some squats after the long run so my legs were pretty much toast after that. Wednesday I did an easy 2.12 as I was pressed for time and hobbling on legs too tired for walking. Due to the revival, I ran not all on Thursday and only 2.42 miles Friday.
After church Friday, we had our Harvest Festival, which meant we ate a lot of food and had a cake walk. Funny how I enjoy things like that now. There was a time when a cake walk would have a) bored me, b) irritated me, c) disgusted me, or d) all of the above. The answer is "d" but not any more. I won a nice brownie dish that I have guarded jealously and consumed with vigor. We also had an eating contest at the church Friday night and John Misterfeldt, my training partner who was visiting to hear me preach, ate so much that he won first and second place.
Saturday and Sunday were spent resting as much as possible. It was not possible to rest as much as I needed to or wanted to but I got in a lot of leisure.
This week, 11/1-11/7, is the planned biggie of the year. I hope to bust out around fifty miles running and a dozen or more walking before starting my taper for The Great Noxapater Journey Run.
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