Strong Women

Daddy always told me to marry a strong woman. It is long tradition in our family that the Hodge men wed wives who are above average in terms of physicality and energy. When my Uncle Alfred was sick, nearing death, and could no longer walk, his wife used to pick him up and physically carry him across the road they lived on to a pond so he could fish. Aunt Edress, bless her heart, was strong.

My grandmother, Elsie Hodge, once responded to the idea of men doing domestic duties by saying, "I had six brothers and six sons and I never asked a man to do anything around the house." She was strong.

Last Christmas at Mom's, my brother's wife, Rebecca, toted firewood, a lot of it, so we could build a fire and feed it the whole holiday. Rebecca is strong.

My brother and his strong wife, Rebecca.

When we were younger, my wife once owned a three-wheeled lawn mower. That's right, one of the wheels got broken off from over use. And it was not a self-propelled kind either. Sweet Penny could mow the lawn with that thing that had only one front wheel. She was strong in those days, strong.

About my momma, Dad says that though she was not physically strong, she was indeed headstrong. She built cabinets in our home. She built a bathroom in the cabin in Carroll County. She built shelves in the storage room. She could do just about anything and she did it because she was strong.

 Life is better, Dad used to say, if your wife is as strong as you are. You don't have to help move as much stuff and pick up heavy objects if your wife can do it herself.

My wife, even today, can take a fifty pound bag of dog food out of a grocery cart and load it into the back of her truck. She can do the same with a case of drinking water. She can even push real good if the truck runs out of gas. She is strong.

My sister is strong too. When I was in the seventh grade, she beat me up. I was bloodied and broken. After a trip to the doctor, I had the middle finger on my right hand splinted to give me a six week perpetual bird.

Over and over people asked, "What happened?"

"My sister beat me up," I would embarrassingly answer. "In our family, the women are strong."

My cousin, Roger Dale Hodge, used to visit us (back when I lived with Mom and Dad) with his wife. She unloaded all the luggage while Roger Dale began visiting. She was tall and strong and could womanhandle a heavy suitcase.

Joe Joe Hodge had two wives-- not at the same time-- both of them strong ladies who could work a garden, kill a snake with a rake, and tote watermelons wherever they needed toting. His father taught him to marry strong.

My cousin Clark Hodge had a wife once. I didn't know her but someone told me she was good-looking and strong.

My uncle Durant Hodge was visiting Dad once when he saw this thing, I don't know what it is called, but it is a heavy piece of cloth with handles on each end. We use it to carry firewood from the back yard into the house.

"What's that?' he asked after spying it lying innocently on the floor.

"It's a wood-toter," Dad answered.

"I need to get Pearl one of those," was his reply.

Aunt Pearl was strong.

My cousin, Roy Ray Hodge, had a wife who could move all the furniture that needed moving when the family gathered at Mamaw's on Christmas. She could move couches, set up tables, and direct parking in the back yard. She was strong.

My Uncle C. D. had a lovely wife. I always wondered how he got her because I thought she was way too pretty for him. Aunt Mary once said, "Not a single Hodge man deserved the wife he got. Not a one of them." C.D. (His full name was C. D. Hodge before the military forced him to make those letters stand for something) certainly didn't. Not only was Aunt Doris nice looking, but she could help him launch a boat, load a three-wheeler, move a picnic table, scale fish. She was strong.

Time and space forbids me to tell of Hodge wives who changed flat tires, bore babies, roofed houses, skinned deer, hoed gardens, shelled peas, repaired porches, set the timing on the tractor, mowed lawns with three-wheel mowers, pushed trucks out of ditches, shoveled gravel, fixed bicycle flats, baited trot lines, cut down trees, and wore high-heels to church on Sunday. I just want y'all to know how proud I am of all of you. Aunt Mary was right: not a one of us has ever deserved you. God bless you, and may a Hodge man fix your plate and bring you a cup of tea. And Rebecca, I'm proud of my brother for buying you that nice lawn mower. I helped raise that boy, and when he did that he made me proud.

The Buddy Bones Bridge Marathon

Oops, we did it again. Me 'n Buddy Bones, for the second time in five days, ran a marathon. That Buddy is one heck of a running dude and his imagination and lust for adventure matches my own. Now that I have a training buddy to run with, there is no telling what I might accomplish or how much fun I might have. Let the games begin.

The bridge between Greeenwood and Sidon

Wednesday morning I knew when we left the house that 26.2 was the goal, and we left about the same time as we did five days ago, 9:45 am. Originally we had planned to drive to the Tanglefoot Trail and run there, but sometime during the night before or early morning, I woke up and remembered that my inspection sticker was very expired. I will get a ticket for sure, I thought, so I began to scheme on Plan B.

Plan B turned out to be a lot like the Buddy Bones River Marathon. We shuffled to Highway 82 and like last time we crossed the bridge headed south and went out into the inustrial park. When we got to the old Highway 49, however, instead of running straight out as far as you can to the levee, we took the little side road to the new highway and ran over the Pelucia Creek Bridge and then ventured into Malouf Trailer Park which led us back to the old 49. This was my third time running this stretch of road and I liked it. When we exited the old highway half was between Greewood and Sidon and went west over the Yazoo River Bridge, we were on roads I had never run. I like that.

The only irritable thing of the day was the wind which I had to battle all the way from Greenwood. We crossed the bridge at 8.65 miles and when we turned north, finally we had the strong wind to our backs. I changed the run/walk pattern to 4.0/.65. When we started back running north of the river bridge, our pace was the fastest we had run all day. I was starting to get stoked about beating last week's time.

Finally in the country

Basically, from crossing the bridge until we got back to Greenwood, we followed the river along a lonely gravel road. At one point, the river became the French Bend Cutoff and then the Yazoo River again, but we were always beside a body of water. When we crossed over the bridge at Fort Pemberton and entered the island of north Greenwood, I saw we were going to have to do some additions to get our 26.2 in, so we went behind Walmart, out John Pittman Drive and crossed the Tallahatchie River and ran out Wade Road and then back into Greenwood and to the house.

We beat our first marathon by twenty-three minutes then decided to cool down for a total of twenty-seven miles. Inside, the cats stalked me knowing I was about to crash. When I did crash, they crashed with me and we had us one heck of a nice nap.

Good First Day

Monday, the first day of my break, was a good one. I drank plenty of coffee, of course, and then took a nice run, 4.31 miles with one main change of pace. I didn't have a plan when I left the house, but by the time I reached the Tallahatchie Bridge, I had decided to retest for my vVo2max pace. The testing protocol I read is extremely obfuscated, but the bottom line is you run for 6:00 minutes as fast as you can and your average pace is your vVo2max, which means the minimum velocity to produce your maximum aerobic capacity. I have been reading Owen Anderson's Running Science with great interest and enjoyment, which is where I ran across this and a whole lot of other stuff.. The last time I tested a few months back, it came out as 8:16 per mile. This time it was 7:47 per mile. That means I am somewhat more fit than I was, which is good news considering I am still way overweight. The test provides more than just a gauge of progress, but those tempo numbers factor into training paces for several kinds of run workouts.

After lunch, I did some yard work and lifted weights. That's how I like to lift. I do a circuit on the weights, then do a few laps mowing or weeding or something. This gives my heart rate a chance to come down and my muscles the opportunity to recover before the next round of weights. I wear my Garmin while I lift and mow, and I write my ambulating numbers in my workout journal. Today, I walked 1.96 miles while lifting and working the lawn. No, we don't have a large yard. We do have a large Magnolia tree in the front and it requires huge amounts of work or we would literally be buried in leaves. We have been here thirty-seven years. The tree was large when we moved in. If I could afford it, I would have it cut down in a heart beat, and it is way too large for me to take down by myself. It could crush our house or fall across the street blocking it and most likely do severe damage to the roadbed. In short, it is just not a do-it-yourself job.

On the weights, I did both upper and lower body with the focus on the upper. I am slowly working my bench up, and although I have not hit the legs hard, I have been consistent in giving them the strength work they need. For years I under worked my legs because it added a recovery issue that competed with my ability to run the mileage I wanted to run. Strictly by accident, however, I have stumbled upon a method that allows me to lift with the legs and recover better than if I had not.

The method involves splitting the run and the weights, doing one and then several hours later doing the other. It doesn't seem to matter if I run first or lift first. If I lift first, I take a recovery shake after the weights. Then, typically, I go to work and run several hours later when I get off. The legs have recovered some and after the run I take another protein shake. Probably it is the added protein that is supercharging my recovery. I also speculate that it has something to do with insulin sensitivity in addition to the added protein. Exercise makes the muscle cells extremely sensitive to insulin. Normally, people think of insulin and sugar, but insulin is the key that unlocks the cells to receive not only carbohydrates, but protein as well. In fact, muscleheads will tell you that insulin is the body's most powerful anabolic hormone, more efficacious even than testosterone. By lifting and running several hours apart, I am giving my leg muscles TWO insulin sensitive windows per day and then providing the bio-available whey protein immediately after each workout. The results have been that I am working harder and recovering better. BINGO!

For years, recovery was my biggest issue. Whenever I ramped up my mileage, I inevitably crashed after a few weeks. Now, despite being older than I have ever been, I am tolerating more training than previously I was able. I often think if I knew as a young man what I know now about my body and how to care for it, I could have been a bad man, I could have been a contender.

Now I am wondering how to apply this to my swimming. It seems simple enough, right? Well, I have not had the same success with swimming and lifting on the same day unless the swimming comes first. But that presents issues with my training partner who only wants to train in the afternoons. Maybe I will experiment with getting up early and lifting in the morning and then seeing how an afternoon swim goes. Training for the Chicot Challenge doesn't allow room for a bunch of sub par swim practices.

Speaking of the next Chicot Challenge, the date has been set for June 6th, and the course is already laid out. I plan once more to start at Ditch Bayou but this time head south for a bit to make up the needed distance before turning up lake and swimming towards the State Park. That will keep us out of Conerly Bayou, which I found during last year's swim to be a bit creepy. It was fun but spooky for me and when we made it back to the main lake, I had a huge relief. The Diabetes Foundation of Mississippi has already set up an event page on Facebook. This makes me very happy, and it causes me to push a little harder when training in the back yard. The weights I lift now will help my muscles to be strong then. Not only that, but they will enable my upper body to have the capacity for the voluminous training needed this spring. Oh yeah, the distance for the 2015 swim is a planned nineteen miles. Prayers appreciated.

Just a Note

Another week of training play is in the books, and I had a good time. I did have to get up this morning and pick up my mom's help and then go to the grocery store for her, but I am home now, in bed, and Jeff is napping with me. Where are those cats? I want my cats.

Last week I swam twice for 7,357 meters, ran for 31.34 miles, rode my bike to work once, lifted weights twice, and walked 7.97 miles. On tap for this week is big mileage on the feet. Now that I have hit the marathon mark, I am planning another one this week. That may sound reckless but it is not. Last Friday I did not run hard, and thus I should be mostly recovered by then, and my hope is to do the distance a little faster than Friday. I am thinking of a trip to the Tanglefoot Trail, Wednesday, for another 26.2. It is a really nice place to get out of the traffic and run and walk and walk and run until I get enough.

My weight is still out of control because I continue to fall prey to late night mayonnaise and cracker binges. Why do I have so little will power? And this is Thanksgiving week the law of the land being to eat as much as possible this Thursday. Noon and night. And we did that Sunday at church. Nevertheless, I am coming out of this week lighter than last week. Watch and see.

DSU is closed until after the break, so I am thinking of getting into the Twin Rivers pool at least once. It still has water and the water looks pretty clean. Not one to waste good water, I should reward them for a job well done.

The Buddy Bones River Marathon

Friday was a very enjoyable and exciting day. I left the house on an adventure run and wound up running a whole official marathon. Even more surprising was I won! It was the dangdest thing. Let me tell you about it.

A prison off in the distance

Me 'n my new friend, Buddy Bones, hatched a plot to do an adventure run Friday, November 21. We left the house at 9:47 a.m., and I was loaded down with two packs, 68 ounces of Gatorade, four gels, and a few other edibles. Buddy doesn't eat or drink so he was travelling light. We headed for the Greenwood, Mississippi Industrial Park and when we got out there, the traffic fell off and although there were buildings in sight, on our right the land opened up into vast tracks of farmland. Way off in the distance I could see the tree line that marked the river where we dreamed we might be running in an hour or two.

The plan was loose but we thought we would run out 49 and get on the creek levee and run it to the river levee. We got on the old Highway 49, and when it came time to turn to go out to the new highway, we decided to stay on the old road and go straight to the river levee. That would cut out the highway, which I have never been fond of running, and the creek levee, which looked like it might be a little rough on top.

We got to the Yazoo River levee at 5.45 miles, and on top the surface was flat, lightly gravelled and soft. Perfect. I had never been here and that made it all the more gooder. We started shuffling north, back towards town, but the river makes a huge loop west, and I didn't know how far it would be to get back to town. in a mile or two we made it to the pumping station. I had been here, way back in 1971 when I started hanging out with the Pine Street Gang. At the station, I sat down and taped up the fourth toe on my left foot. It was still a bit sore from last Thursday's run and I knew if I did not attend to it early, it would get bad. After the kinesio tape job, I felt it no more.

Just onto River Road Extended.

Running the levee was nice. Every now and then we shuffled past a patch of woods that made me think of my .22 rifle. Sometimes we could see the river. Sometimes not. Eventually, about ten miles in, we made to to an giant old house at a place where two gravel roads met. I thought about getting off on the roads but decided to stay on the levee. Bad choice. The road on top of the levee disappeared and in its place was tall grass, uneven dirt. and armadillo holes every foot or two. It was a wonderful place to twist an ankle or even break a leg. Luckily after only a hundred meters or so, we came upon the C & G Railroad line which gave us a chance to follow the tracks back to the gravel road.

From the road, we could see the end of River Road Extended way off in the distance. Between us and it were wide open harvested cotton fields and clear air. I felt free. I didn't ask Buddy how he felt. I guess I like him a lot because we don't need to talk to stay friends.

Eventually we made it there and were headed back into town. River Road Extended is a very pretty street lined one house deep with giant old mansions on its south side with the Yazoo River on its north. Decades old oak trees provide and peaceful shade and a family cemetery in one yard reminded me of the vast local history that most of us never know. The road led us to the Yazoo River Bridge on Highway 82 which we crossed at thirteen miles into our journey and then turned left on the levee road of West Claiborne Extended. We were still running the levee only we were on the other sided of the river now headed west instead of east.

The levee road on the Tallahatchie.

After a couple of miles, West Claiborne Extended ends and one has to get on Highway 82 or turn on the frontage road. We crossed the highway and got on another levee road but this one was on the Tallahatchie River not the Yazoo. At this point we took a long walk, a bit over a mile, to take in some calories and fluids. This levee road ends in a field which we had to negotiate through mud and tractor tracks until we made it to  the levee road off Riverside Drive where we re-entered Greenwood this time on the north side of town. We shuffled Riverside Drive to Grand Blvd and then crossed the Tallahatchie Bridge. After crossing the bridge we ran out Wade Road  and then turned north onto a turnrow which we followed back to Money Road. At Money Road we were nearing nineteen miles so we headed north to get some more distance.

We turned back towards town when we were far enough from home to finish with about twenty-three miles, but when we got to the foot of the bridge, Buddy said, "Let's run out here a bit," as he turned left onto the gravel road. When we did get back into town, we were only one block south of Bankston School when Buddy spoke up again. "Let's run this way," he said turning off the boulevard.

"You know we are doing a full marathon," he added.


At the trail head and back on the river.

"I was beginning to suspect that," I answered.

"Not only are we running a full marathon, we are doing an official one."

We shuffled along in silence for a while. Then I said, "An official marathon has to have a name."

A minute or two later he said, "The Buddy Bones Marathon. Or the Buddy Bones Yazoo River Levee Marathon. Or the Buddy Bones Yazoo and Tallahatchie Self-supported Levee Marathon."

We were on Lidell Street now and our distance was approaching twenty-four miles. Then Buddy added, "You know you are in the lead?"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"How many are back there?" I said referring to the runners behind us.

"Tens," he answered.

I gave him a look.

"Dozens."

I gave him another look.

"At least a hundred."

That made me happy. In fact, I almost cried.

When we got to East Monroe, I knew we were seven tenths of a mile from home so we kept heading south, and I did the math in my head as we got further and farther from home. We made to to the Yazoo River levee, got on top, and then I saw it, the entrance to the Yazoo River Trail. It ain't much, only about a half a mile, but it is a nice trail, and I love to run it so we did. I stopped to pee when we were just inside the trail. The air was cool and the tree leaves fell in the autumn breeze. I felt great. I was running a marathon and about to win it. Then I remembered. "How close are they?" I asked Buddy.

"They stopped to pee too," he told me.

Then we started back shuffling. My legs were very tired but I was very happy. We made twenty-five miles while still in the woods. I knew we were a mile from home at the bridge so we were going to be a little long. "What about that?" I asked Buddy.

"Don't worry. We will stop at 26.2 and take a picture of your watch. From there we just walk home."

The time may have been slow, but it was
good enough for first place.

So we did. We took the picture at 26.22 and then walked the .17 mile to the house. When I stooped to pick the newspaper up out of the driveway, I audibly grunted. I was stiff, so stiff it was like I was bones or something. Then I went inside, drank a recovery shake, and talked to the cats.

Not Posting Today

I usually post on Friday morning but not this time. First, I am in a bit of a hurry with some special plans to go out a play all day. I have a new friend, Buddy Bones, and he vows he can run as far as I can, as fast as I can, and do anything else I can. I want to see for myself if he is telling the truth. Second, the cats, instead of being on the bed with me (which always slows me down) are tearing the house up. I feel so left out.

So I thought I would tell you why I'm not posting. Tomorrow I will most likely do a write up of me 'n Buddy's exploits. Heck, I don't even know where we are going. I have a couple of ideas. One thing is for sure: it will be long.

While I am not talking to you, I might as well not tell you what we did at Masters last night. First off, I went by the Lehrton Cemetery. This was not my first or second or tenth stop, but it was my first stop since Dad's headstone has been installed. I never dreamed I would be stopping by Dad's grave on the way to DSU, never thinking he would be buried in Lehrton, but that is the way things have turned out. Now I have more incentive than ever to go that way, with the grave, grandchildren, the granddogs, and the pool. I got in 1,050 warm up before Cagri stopped us for the main set. It went something like this: sixteen 50s then two 50s; twelve 50s then two 50s; eight 50s then two 50s; four 50s then two 50s. Are you confused? Good. I sure was.

Me 'n my new friend, Buddy Bones.

We were to do the large number of 50s @ 1:00 and then two 50s @ :50. What could possibly go wrong counting that set? I was sure I could never get it right so I asked Mark if he could keep up with the numbers. He was confident he could. Turned out he couldn't, not the @ :50s. That confused him terribly and we reverted to @ 1:00 after the two 50s. That's a whole lot of 50s and if you can keep all of that straight, don't tell me about because you are not my friend anymore. Mark and I didn't have much time to argue about it at the wall and when we tried we missed a couple of intervals because the turn around was so quick. Finally, I convinced him to actually swim the two 50s @ :50 after the group of eight 50s. We did, but he got confused on when to start the second of the two 50s. Then he miscounted and started the set of four 50s one early. He did believe me when I told him so we swam all our 50s. I think. To make a short story long, we swam forty-eight 50s, more or less, on various sendoffs. A few of them we even got right. I think. That was the end of practice, but I swam another 650 with small paddles for a total of 4,100 yards.

Tuesday's Swim and Sorrows

Tuesday was a very emotional day, and the sorrow of losing Lucky will last for a long time. Instead of leaving early for my grandchildren and DSU, I waited until Penny got off work so we could chat and cry some together. Maybe I should have stayed home but I needed a swim. It was a good one and seldom am I not amazed at how much a physical effort can make my emotions feel better.

I got 1,450 yards before we started the main set. There were only three of us at practice, and I heard Cagri tell the other two to do six 150s. He turned to me and said, "Twleve 150s, twenty seconds rest. First four do the first 50 fast; second four do the second 50 fast; last four do the third 50 fast."

I liked the set and it felt good and kept my mind off sorrow. I rarely think anything when I swim which may be one reason I enjoy it so much. It's not that I don't enjoy life out of the water. I do. It's just that from time to time I enjoy a different mode of existence. In the water, I can just be for a while. When not running or swimming, I can rarely stop my mind from bouncing to and fro from one worthless thought to the next. Sometimes the thoughts are worthwhile but even then a mind that won't stop, can't stop becomes tiring, exhausting. You could say I exercise to the extreme to get some rest. But that is only one reason.

After the set, I drove home in the darkness, and as usual I became reflective not just about Lucky but on all the losses my wife and I have suffered over the last year. Two pets, two parents, and a church. Besides the loses, however, there have been gains, gifts from God that have helped our lives stay full. I have learned that one must think on these things also.

We have a new church home. I am no longer a pastor but God may open that door again or maybe not. Meanwhile we are happy in the little church we attend. And then there is Baby Kitty the cat we rescued from under our house. He is a joy in his newness of life and not only do Penny and I delight in him, but so does Luvie. Speaking of Luvie, he was insatiable this morning crawling all over me and ramming his head into me over and over. That is why we named him Luvie, because he is. Then there is the empty back yard. To put another dog there now doesn't seem right. It is too soon. Lucky can't just be replaced. But one day, sooner or one day later, we will cross paths with a stray or a reject or a rescue that needs a home. The back yard will be ready for him or her and by then our hearts will be too.