The Long and The Short of It

"It" as in "the Run". Yesterday was the 21 mile "Killer Loop" with the group, and what a group it was. I think at our high point, there were 12 or 14 of us? Most of us began on the beach and headed West over the first bridge, in, what else? Rain. Thankfully, the rain ended as quickly as it came on, and we were hardly wet for the wear.

Over the first bridge and on to pick up a couple more runners, as well as Stephanie, our support crew. How cool is it that this woman (who is not running right now for some reason not clear to me), met us at various points on the loop for hydration. She had all kinds of nutrition in the back of her minivan. It was like being in a race. Very cool. Anyway, we picked up more runners at mile 11, I think, and as the group grew, so did the chatter, which was very cool. One thing I realize more and more is that there are so many great conversationalists in this crew, I would never have to speak a word if I chose not to. Actually, I am wise to keep my mouth shut, since the more I divulge, the more ammunition they have to use against me. Yesterday they bagged on me about how much I talk about California. Can I help it that I am from the Superior Coast? I need to remind them periodically.

Anyway, we continued to run, and many of these guys started complaining about the Wabasso bridge, how steep it is, how hard it is, on and on. I began feeling nervous about the incline the way they were talking, but I need not have worried: it was about as steep as anything else around here...not very. We caught part of the Jungle Trail and then headed South toward home. Around mile 16, we were desperate for Stephanie again, wondering where our water was. Turns out, she turned the North at Jungle Trail and was waiting for us in the wrong place. By mile 17, we were so parched, we stopped at John's Island (or JI, as the locals call it) and hit up the guard at the gate up for some water. We continued on another 4 miles back to the cars. A quick dip in the ocean to finish a great run. How is it possible I was stung again by another jelly? These little guys are nasty.

The day only got better from there. We spent it in West Palm Beach with lunch at Whole Foods and then a tour of Jupiter Island, looking for Tiger's house. The island is beautiful, *beautiful* with tons of greenery and even little rolling hills on the golf courses. On to the town of Tradition, where our family ran a 5K to raise awareness for Child Abuse and neglect. I ran along side Owen, with Ryan in the stroller to support her. Marc was second finisher overall, despite the heat, and Owen was third in the under 10 division. They both came home with trophies, which was grand. The kids played on the inflatable jumpers and ate junk food, while we spoke with the team that entered from Marc's work. It was all really enjoyable, until out of nowhere, the sky opened up and it began to POUR rain on us. Lightning in the sky, people running for cover, cars madly trying to get out of the parking lot all made for an interesting finish to the day. We left around 9:00 pm, exhausted, but happy.

So, I feel good about running the mileage, despite the fact the day started and ended in crazy moments of fleeting rain. The kind that is just enough to get one wet, but nothing more than a minor inconvenience. The 5K was really rewarding, to see Marc run strong and Owen place in her little division. It is all worth it, if we can encourage a love of exercise in our kids. Even little Ryan was happy running along in the stroller. He never complained once.

"The Rainy Season"

This is every one's favorite response when I bemoan the weather. It rained all day today, only to stop to make way for more gray skies and then more rain. On and off all day long, it rained. I usually don't mind rain, I even quite like the rain. I think I used to love the rain when it was the oddity and novelty of Southern California. Here, I am coming to accept the rain as a random act at any given point in the day. That is one thing that I really underestimated about here. People told me it rained, but I never thought THIS much.

This morning we ran on the track, which was wet from last night's storm. Thankfully, we did not get any more downpour until I was leaving the workout. We ran a mile warm up, followed by 2 800s at 3:30 pace, a mile at 6:47 pace, and then 2 more 800s, 3:22 and then 3:17 to finish strong. I ran with Lori and Dr. George. There were some other suspects there, too, but they were doing a different workout. I left the track and did some legs in the gym, followed by a cool down swim. Luckily Don was giving a private lesson so he left me on my own today. I am grateful for the little things. We are booking our tickets tonight for Christmas home. You can't see me, but here I am dancing.

Bridge Repeats

Alone. In the dark. In the rain. With just my alligator friend beneath the bridge.

Sound invigorating? I feel empowered. I did 6 hill repeats, each around 7 minutes, up the bridge and back down as one. They actually did not hurt too bad, though my legs were tired by the last one. I am still reeling that I saw a "gator", however, sleeping under the bridge along the shore. I did a double take, but it was a real live gator. Sent shivers up my spine, or maybe that was my reaction to the rain pelting my face so hard it hurt?

Anyway, did the workout I set out to do and then went to the pool for some abuse from Don. It was miserable in a satisfying kind of way. Today he told me my stroke was the best he has seen it yet. I will take that, coming from a cranky old man who never says anything nice about anyone. Most days I wish he would just ignore me like he does the man who got into the lane next to me. I wonder if that man just told Don to leave him be and let his stroke be imperfect? Maybe Don thinks that man is too old of a dog to learn any new tricks? Other days, I am hungry for his advice, eager to learn the stroke work and wanting to improve it all. Then he tells me to do backstroke and I think I might drown right there in my lane. Would the grumpy old coach jump in and save me? It is not likely.

I am excited about the possibility of going home for Christmas and seeing friends and family. Sharing a meal and sitting in front of the tree together. It sounds like a ton of effort to get there, but I think it might almost be worthwhile. I want San Diego so badly, I can almost taste it. I want to drink in the cold December air there, run Torrey Pines hill, and embrace old friends. I love the idea of celebrating the most magical time of the year with people I crave seeing again. Mostly, I want to stop feeling torn between two worlds and try to live a streamline life.

Jungle Run

Today was the long run with the group on the dreaded "Jungle Trail". I wish I were kidding about the name, but it is actually posted as a landmark and a real destination for people from miles around. People travel to the Jungle Trail for mountain biking (which is funny, since it is as flat as everything else around here), running, walking and nature observation. The whole time we are out there, the only thing I can think is that I hope we do not observe any nature.

Lori picked me up at 5 am for the 5:30 start. When we got to the trail head, it was pitch black with no streetlights around for miles. Dr. George, Craig and Lori all had lights. Craig carried his flashlight, Lori had a small led light clipped to her hat, and geeky Dr. George was wearing-brace yourself-a head lamp. I asked him where the mine was. We did a small out and back and then picked up the rest of the group for a brighter 6:30 start. Patti asked Dr. George if he was heading into surgery with that dumb lamp. We ran out the north trail at that point, which is longer than the south trail we started on, but less scenic, unless you like huge blue pelicans and snakes. These are in abundance, but the snakes are "the good kind" I am told. Whatever. Anything in the snake family is not worth meeting on the trail if you ask me.

In the end, Lori and I continued after the other guys were done, and I think we finished with around 19 miles. She is doing West Palm Beach marathon in December. Atlanta is closing in fast for me, with Disney right around the corner after that. I am kind of thinking about West Palm beach, though. It sounds good to do another one along the way, just as a training run, of course.

I continue to meet new athletes and really like them. Everyone is so super welcoming and friendly. I am thrilled to death to have Thanksgiving in Georgia with old friends there. But, I continue to be homesick and miss all of the conveniences of our old lives. The little things that seem so trivial, but the things that add up to make life aggrivating here at times. Like, the fact that the grocery store does not open until 7:00 am, so when I am on the way home from track, I cannot just pop in and pick up milk for breakfast, since the doors are still locked. Or, the way getting my hair done yesterday cost almost $300. Who was this woman that she thought she could charge that? Frustrating to have to start all over with new everything, including finding the right hair person.

Mostly I miss the life we used to have in Carmel Valley with awesome neighbors and a wonderful school for the kids and beautiful parks we could go to in the middle of the day. While it is beautiful here, the parks remain vacant because it is too stiffling to go outside this time of year. My little guy keeps asking me to go to playgrounds every day. I can't help but feel my kids are missing out on some precious experiences while we are here. They are experiencing so many other new adventures here, it is true, but maybe I am just thinking it is not comparable to what I grew up with. Somehow, I still feel like California is superior in so many ways: the opportunities, the schools, the connections we have there. I wonder if I might ever come to feel like anything but a fish out of water here?

For Something New and Different...

....rain today. What a surprise. Actually, when I left the house this morning, it was not yet raining. I arrived at the track, parked my car, climbed over the gate to get in, and saw Dr. George already running the workout. I ran one whole 200 before it began to drizzle. By the time I reached the start, it was a true rain. After a 2 mile warm up, the sky opened up and began to dump. I was drenched and dripping with both sweat and rain when my friend, Lori, arrived, a pathetic towel over her head, as if this were to protect her from the elements. She was already soggy just the short walk from her car. Because Dr. George had beat us to the track, he was almost done with his Yassos when I finished my warmup. He had to get to the hospital for an early surgery. That man is a lunatic.

Funny thing about this small town: the only thing the people love more here than their precious high school football team is the football field on which they practice. So, the gate is always locked and there are many signs posted to keep out. This, of course, does not deter the people I run with, rough crowd of runners. Apparently, just before my time here, there was a little run-in with the law, and some words were exchanged as to why some innocent runners could not carelessly run in circles. The police told them they were trespassing and would be arrested if they were to come back. Someone pulled some strings and used his teacher card to grant access to the Sun Runners with some imaginary key that I have not seen yet. Tom is supposed to pick up the key on Tuesday afternoons and return it Wednesday morning after the workout, but he cannot be bothered to trek over to the office to get it. I have since joined in the fun of running scared. It makes the workout interesting, when we are lurking in the shadows every time a cop car drives by and lingers just a little bit, watching and waiting. Even more interesting is the climb over the metal gate, as it tatters back and forth against its post, slick from the ever-present rain.I am not sure which is less appealing: running in fear of lightening or running in fear of getting arrested?

Anyway, we didn't have to worry about the cops this morning, since I guess they figured we are all stubborn but not stupid enough to run in the cats and dogs that were coming down. Isn't it amazing that these stupid people are surgeons and lawyers and engineers and financial planners? Yeah, there are some issues in this crowd. We ran a mile, followed by two 800s, another mile and then two more 800s, Lori's choice. I have come to really like her. Originally from some middle of America state I cannot recall, she relocated to New York, worked her tail off to become extremely successful, married a man 20 years her senior and then landed in Vero to raise their now 6 year old daughter. Lori has this real easy way about her, mild in speech and manner. Built like a runner, tall and lean with beautiful legs that carry her. She has a striking smile that is distracting, a brilliant mind, and is so real. Most people here are very real. I like that she is a transplant from a large city, too, because I think she feels my pain.

Anyway, another day of rain. I left with shorts that were so wet and heavy, I could barely walk to my car-or climb back over the gate- since they hung on my tired legs. Not sure which were heavier, the shorts or my legs. Now it is off to spin class. The spin teacher on Wednesday nights reminds me of a Barbie I once gave a bad haircut to as a child. Impossible dimensions with fake boobs and ridiculously tan, she has a beautiful face with tiny features. She is striking in appearance with her smoking figure, pastel blue eyes and high cheek bones. All things on her appear to be perfect, except for the hair detail...it is shorter than boy short, cropped carelessly close to her head and bleached a platnum I did not know existed on the color spectrum. She is a great spin instructor, though, and will kick us in gear. Her favorite thing to yell out in the middle of a steep set is, "Okay, those of you who are crazy, turn the knob another notch to the right....come on...come with me. I know you are all crazy. We are fitness addicts!"

Guess I won't have to worry about the rain inside the spin studio and, thankfully, the weather held off long enough yesterday for the kids to start tennis. Very cute. Tonight gymnastics...inside. We are going to be grateful for the little things around here.

Inclinate Weather

I woke at 4:30 this morning to the sounds of pouring rain, which was very appropriate for my mood. I love that term "pouring". Here in Florida, I think the more accurate description for this morning's rain, would be thrashing, blowing, and heaving rain. Apparently the popular saying here is, "If you don't like the weather, wait 10 minutes." I have heard this several times in the four weeks we have been here.

When I looked out the bathroom window, the lightening was so bright, it filled the room with its rage. It was over the ocean, coming consistently, and because I couldn't tell how near or far it was, I pulled on my running clothes to see which crazies would be waiting on the curb. I desperately wanted to climb back into bed and sleep my troubles away. My troubles are many: the unhappiness I feel with the elementary school, the discontent and unrest in the future here, what our lives might have looked like if we staying in San Diego....I read more of THe Kite Runner last night to drown some of my sorrows. Getting lost in the characters in that book was the obvious escape, one that made my life seem a lot more appealing than it feels at times.

I tied my shoes and rolled out the large drive into the furious rain. The other interesting point of mention about weather here: though it may be thrashing rain at our house, it may not be raining at all 3 miles away at the park where the Sun Runners meet. I was hopeful, obviously, to be driving that direction, but the rain continued on. When I pulled into Riverside Park, Kimmie and Craig were holed up in her car, arguing like an old married couple, though they are young and not married to each other. She was insisting that the rain, plus, thunder and lightening was suicide; he was telling her it was no big deal and after quoting something he told me was from the movie "Caddy Shack" (I have never seen the movie, but I guess as Superintendent of one of the golf courses on the island, this is a staple to the DVD library), insisted that the rain was going a different direction than our run course.

Low and behold, who comes running over, but crazy Doctor George and his lovely wife, Lori. Having been in North Carolina for pleasure all weekend, Doc was amped up and ready to run, quadruple A personality he is. Anyway, we obviously did not get struck by lightening since I sit here writing this most gratefully now. George kept telling me as soon as we got over the bridges, we would be safe on lower ground. I am trying to put together a movement right now to get this group to run bridge repeats for hill training, the only elevation to speak of in these parts. So far, the enthusiasm has been minimal.

I think the hardest thing for me to adjust to is the way one's life really is dictated by weather. I am not accustomed to having to wait on the heat, wait on the rain, wait out the lightening. Here, it is simply life. Today, the kids are supposed to start tennis, but since it has been storming all day, on and off, with blue skies teasing us for fleeting moments, I think their lesson will be cancelled due to "inclinate weather". That is the nice term around here for weather that simply will not cooperate and allow us to go about our business as usual.

The Breakdown

The breakdown of the stroke, that is. I think Don likes me. He knows I am not going away and I keep asking for more of his abuse. Not that I would have a choice to filter it out, by the way. I was the only body in the pool this morning at 6 am. With rain falling, Don yelled at me from under the roof along the side of the pool. Normally, he paces around it, over and over. He is so ADHD, he cannot stand in one place. He likes to call himself "lazy" when he does not get in the water to do his own workout, so he pacifies himself by power walking the pool's edge.

So, from under the awning, he is yelling instruction to me from afar. I think I am almost understanding his term, "holding water" now. He has not even ventured to work with me on the catch stage of my stroke yet...just the recovery and entry and some kick. He even made me do some backstroke today. after only one hundred of that agony, I told him I was out of time. I think that man would talk at me all day. Ex-army, he loves the power of picking apart my stroke. I almost don't feel offended by his delivery anymore. I have come to like him, too,cranky old goat he is. Now, if only I could really put into practice the technical thinkgs he is telling me to do. It is so easy to listen and understand what he is saying, but to actually perform is a whole different issue.

Cruise Control

That is about it. Cruising along in school, work and training. Had a high mileage week last week with 2 long runs (just worked out that way) and lots of other in between. I am going to start running bridge repeats, since the bridges to our island are the only source of elevation around here and I miss hill training. I really do miss rolling hills. Love, love, love the crazy triple A personalities I run with. Seems I am not living up to my full potential around here "only" training for marathons. Wish I were more motivated to sit on a bike, other than in spin classes at the gym. These runners are nuts.

I am still hanging with my nazi swim coach who spats commands at me, peppered with small words of encouragement, "You are almost getting better...now let's do some backstroke." I almost drowned, by the way, in that lesson. He is unlike any coach I have ever known. He almost seems a character out of a book, the mean and intimidating, dated mentor. He loves to tell me how "old school" my stroke is, which is funny considering how old his records are that stand and how new I am to this sport. Anyway, the hero of Vero, Lotta, the top ranked amatuer of triathlon fell doing hill repeats on her bike and shattered her collarbone. This is unfortunate for her race season, but more unfortunate for me: one less body at the workout to detract Coach Don's attention away from my poor technique. Lotta says she will heal in 8 weeks, but too late for the 70.3 Championships she should have taken no problem.

So, on we march. The heat is hot here. The ocean is 85 degrees. I am tired of always being sticky. I am living for October.

Atlanta It Is...

...for the marathon. Things were getting too complicated to coordinate MC marathon in a few short weeks, so I am running the Atlanta marathon on Thanksgiving Day. This is a beautiful thing in 2 ways: not only do I get in 26.2 miles before lunchtime, I get to enjoy Thanksgiving Dinner with my family and Roberta and her family....which means vegetarian options. I despise Thanksgiving and every offensive smell that lingers in the kitchen all day long. What better way to escape it than to run a marathon for half the day? Perfect. Here is the fall marathon I have been needing.

Today we ran 10 miles on the Jungle Trail, as it is dubbed. The usual suspects and a few I have not met before this morning. George is a surgeon and 7 time Ironman who is old enough to be my dad. He can kick my booty any day of the week. He just returned from Korea for the Ironman there and he said he runs Atlanta Marathon every year. He said it is hilly and not an easy course. I saw a dead armadillo on the road and a ton of water fowl along Jungle Trail. Thankfully, no gators out there, though those running with me delighted in telling me stories about the wildlife I so despise.

I think I am grumpy and need to go to bed. We went out with some new found friends to the country club tonight and it was hard for me to think that this is what our lives have become: eating exotic food while watching an absolutely brilliant lightening storm over the water, hobnobbing with all the old money here. The rain and wind were mild and we were outside on the veranda, so the weather was actually really lovely. The sad part was the theme over and over of people being so kind and saying how nice San Diego is (they have visited, they have family there, they know people there, etc) and me wanting to return. How can it be so nice here, but my heart is so stuck somewhere else? It feels like being married to someone but stuck in a relationship with the wrong person by accident. That is, desperately wanting to get back to the one I am in love with, but inhibited by someone else. It is a dismal place to be at times. Other times, everything is so fun and great and wonderful and new.

Tomorrow is a BBQ and beach party with another group of friends we met through the Sun Runners. I really like the couple who owns the beach house and hosting the get together. They are originally from New York and very animated and off the cuff. Their daughter is our daughter's age and the girls really like each other, too, so that is great. I will be mixing the margaritas for everyone, however, since I will not be kayaking in the sharky waters with them tomorrow.