Best Run - Worst Day

Every once in awhile I see someone out running and I instantly feel a pang of regret that I no longer get to cover 3 to 12 miles by foot anymore. My knee osteoarthritis has forced me to just bike, board and swim. Even the occasional hike or even mowing the backyard or shooting hoops for just an hour causes severe swelling and pain in both knees. I am not complaining. There are many people with far more serious physical limitations and hardships.

However, when I see someone running, and you can tell they are cruising along and it is a great setting or beautiful weather, the flood of positive feelings that were once mine to enjoy, and no longer available results in the regret I feel. On my drive home last Thursday I saw a guy striding along the Springfield, VT running path and those emotions played out in my head as I drove westward across Vermont. It forced me to think of the most favorite run that I ever did.

My most memorable and favorite run of all time took place in Connecticut early in the morning. I had just started my new job with Cargill and had stayed the night to start working early in the morning with one of my new Consultants, Mary. Donna and I were training to run in the Lake Placid Half Marathon, which was coming on fast since this was a Tuesday and the race was scheduled for Saturday. I needed one last good workout, and then I would do easy runs and rest until race day. I scouted out a park and reservoir and some country roads not too far from the Best Western where I was staying.

The alarm went off at 5:30 and I was out the door before 6 am. The sun was just starting to come up and it was about 25 degrees. I thought it was warmer so I had only on a pair of shorts and a light long sleeve technical shirt. I carried a water bottle filled with Gatorade. I started up the busy road for about a mile warm up. No traffic and my lungs filled with the cold air. I dropped the water bottle behind a stop sign as I turned down a back road to the park. The road went up and down several rolling hills. As I got to a "T" I made a left and went hard up a hill until I got to the end of the back road and came out to the busy road again further north. I stopped and ran back to the "T" with a recovery pace. I tried to estimate the miles, but was not sure and really did not care because I felt so good and the rising sun and lifting fog were so exhilarating. I turned around and did the uphill hard again and then turned around and again and came back to the "T."

This time at the "T" I went straight and came up to the Reservoir. The steam coming up from the water mixed with the light fog wafting in from the hillside and the sun got brighter and higher. I stopped for less than a minute and then kept running at a good pace until the road ended in a parking lot. As I turned around to head back for the "T" I remember thinking that I must be in good shape for this race because I probably have done about 9 miles and still had another 3 or so to get back, but I felt really good. I ran at a good pace up the back road and picked up my water bottle at the stop sign. The cool down run on the busy road, that now had morning commuter traffic, was a chance to quench my thirst and stretch my legs as I slowed down my pace.

When I jogged into the motel parking lot and came to a walk I can honestly say I have never felt so good after a run. The cold air, the beautiful scenery, the accomplishment of running 12 miles at a challenging pace and feeling so strong all combined to a true 'runners high.' I quickly showered and grabbed some breakfast at the free buffet counter of the motel and got done just in time for Mary to pick me up. We pulled into our first farm at just after 8:00 am and he was just walking in from the barn to his house after completing his chores. We talked for about an hour and then Mary and I drove for about 2 hours up into Mass. I was still feeling my metabolism race from the morning's run and had some pretty good hunger pangs as the quick breakfast was not enough to fully replenish, but I felt good about that as well. Mary and I talked and got to know each other as we drove north.

At the second farm no one was around so we walked through the place on our own. This was a brand new account that Mary had just picked up so she was not familiar with everything. We saw examples of poor management and cat that had a growth on its head that was particularly grotesque - it was an omen of things to come. The farm was run by a pair of brothers - one was with it, the other seemed dim-witted, oddly enough this is not unusual. As the brother that was running the show went to the farm house to retrieve some papers, the not-so-with-it brother started telling us about some buildings that were collapsed in the city. He said that terrorists had simultaneously hijacked several planes and had crashed them into the World Trade Center. Mary and I looked at each other and both of us instantly went into the mode of just saying uh-huh and let's just not get Jim too excited. We continued to nod as we were told this story and couldn't wait until "with-it" brother returned.

When the other brother returned with the completed paper work he confirmed the story that we were told. All of a sudden the story of a lunatic became a possibility. We quickly got into the truck and turned on the radio. It was 10:30 am and the now accepted, but then unbelievable tale of 9/11 was slowly making its way to the world. We stopped at a Friendly's restaurant and the place was in complete kaos - dishes piled up on tables, no waitresses or counter people at all. We left and went to a bar that had its TV going and watch the rest in horror.

What started as a great day ended in a world changed by fanatics. The juxtaposition of my great morning of exercise and the planning and unfolding of the 9/11 attacks occurring at the same time made the already horrific event even worse in my mind. Donna and I never did go to the Lake Placid race. We just felt that our running and individual activities were no longer important given what was taking place in our crazy world. Eventually we all have come to accept a new reality. Sadly, today if some odd looking farmer tells me the same story, or worse, I would not be one bit surprised.

You Cwazzy Mistaw

Five years ago, while training for the Tupper Lake Tinman, a 1/2 ironman-distanced triathlon, I was running early in the morning in Plattsburg, NY. It was May, but it was brutally hot and humid. I was making the return leg back to the hotel on a 6.5 mile out and back route I had done several times while staying in Plattsburg. I was hurting bad, having gone through several days of traveling to work on farms with consultants in the hot, humid conditions. All of a sudden I hear a kid in his driveway getting ready to catch the elementary school bus yell to me, "why are you wunning mistaw?" He replaced his r's with w sounds. I managed to get out some words from my salt-stained lips in between grimaces of pain and said, "because it's fun." The words were reflex, and not even meant to be ironic. He replied before my next heartbeat with, "you cwazzy mistaw!" After I told this story to Donna it has become our catch phrase for when we plan or do something extreme.

This morning Donna asked me if I would join her at Dan's Saturday 8 am spin class at the Y. I said no, that I was planning on joining a group mountain bike ride at Grafton State Park at 1 pm. And, you know what she said. The fact that it was 7 degrees out and snowing lightly had something to do with her response. When she told Dan and other members of the spin class why I was not with them, they came up with other words to describe my intentions.

Ice biking is not a familiar activity to even some avid cyclists. Two winters ago I bought a set of Nokian studded tires for my Epic mountain bike. They have a carbide tipped stud sticking out of every knob, all 296 of them, in each tire. You can bike on glare ice and not spin or slip a wheel. After solving that problem it is just a matter of keeping yourself warm. The only problem I have had with that is keeping my feet warm. It don't have winter mountain biking shoes and my attempts at using Gore Tex socks and neoprene covers with the regular mountain biking shoes, which are vented for crying out loud, have resulted in near frost bite. In addition, the metal clips conduct heat out and also freeze up making clipping in a problem. My solution for this day was to put on the flat, studded Kona pedals that came with my Yeti and wear my GoreTex hiking boats.


There were 10 of us "cwazzies" on hand for the 1 pm take off from the Winter entrance to Grafton. We rode for about 3 hours, a little over 10 miles, on icy hard-packed snow, rocks, roots and puddles. We did a lot of hill climbing which actually helped keep us warm. It was a fantastic day on the bike and despite the sub-20 degree temperature, most of us stayed pretty warm. My foot solution worked very well and I even wore my snowboarding helmet for extra protection, although it was overkill - I could have gone with the regular biking helmet with the hoody underneath. It was just what I needed - 2 hours of hard aerobic effort and probably close to 2000 calories burned off. The woods were beautiful and we even rode out on the frozen lake among the ice fishermen - who looked at us like we were, you guessed it - cwazzy.