Workout 1. 12.1 miles out on the Betzwood in 1:19:55 (6:36 pace) Workout 2. 6 miles at 7:18 pace with some friends after work out in VF. 18 miles in doubles. -------------------------- Let me try this again. The first copy was horrid; I was still caught up in the emotion... ------------------ The parking lot at the Lower Lobby was a wasteland. Half torn-down, white tents hung together--propped against one another waiting for the same calloused Mexicans and the same supervising park rangers in the Smokey the Bear hats and the crisp green slacks with the railroad tracks for creases to administer their coup de grace. Birds descended eagerly from the trees to peck at discarded, now hardened, shards of bagels that were dropped probably by that guy when he reached out to receive his bauble at the gimcrack cirque du soleil. I got changed quickly and luckily, for as I exited, a man resembling Richard Ramirez complete with a pentagram pendant and a sullen, sunken gaze, made his way ominously into the bathroom. I guess satanists have now cast themselves into this eclectic melting pot. This place never ceases to keep me in starry-eyed wonder. But what was supposed to be a non-eventful, recovery run, changed on the Betzwood bridge. I really can't say that I've seen them since I've run out here. Ok, maybe I saw one of them, once, but this time it counted. On the other side of the bridge heading up the ramp was a trail of dark shapes moving at me fast. Long legs bent at 90-degree angles propelled black feet fast, kicking them backwards, up high, almost pressing them against the sinewy bones for their backs; bodies hunched slightly forward, arms--always a dead giveaway--were fixed at their sides. Kenyans. The leader, a tall man who bent more forward than the rest, came on quick. He was dark--beautifully dark; his skin took on almost a purplish veneer. His milky eyes with traces of red around their sockets, contrasted against his night-black skin. He wore a thick, dark jacket with white Adidas piping and cotton sweatpants. I gave him wide berth and waved. He nodded and raised his hand. It wasn't so much a wave, but more of an subtle acknowledgement of me. He smiled and was gone in a second. Next came more men, two this time, side-by-side--hands raised again, one then the next in sequence, no smiles. They were trailed by a woman who wore her hair into a very tight bun. She peered down behind Nike shades, carrying her arms as tight as they can be carried. Her feet were almost pigeon-toed, but she still pushed them along underneath her popping them up in recoil at a good clip. A man carried up the rear of the train, but he was right at her elbow and obviously pushing her. They were all gone now. I made a right turn onto the Betzwood Trail. A wind of excitement pushed me down the path; I thought of them, dreaming of fast running and focused effort. I inadvertently picked up the pace. 6:40s became 6:30s became 6:20s at the turn around. Nothing hurt. It was all easy. I was dreaming still: "What's Wardian doing today? Is he pushing the pace doing some insane Wardian workout? And Desgrange and Decker....they all are such busy people, and I know they pound the pavement day in and day out--probably harder than me. Are they pushing it today? They want to win it all; they are hurting themselves hard--for sure." I'm going over 100 miles this week. Screw it, time to pour it on. Into my last miles now, 6:20s finally gave way to 6:10s. It's amazing when you catch that wave during a run and cruise while stewing and chewing on these things. Pace is forgotten and adrenaline takes over--time slips by effortlessly; miles come and go. And then they reappeared. I had more time to see them this time. They were all in a line--off the pavement on the single-file trail--coming back at me again. A man and his child rode their bikes at my side. The child wore a Steelers bike helmet and the father would egg him onward, shooting them ahead of me momentarily. The kid would then zig-zag his bike wide across the path--dreaming and playing, thinking and aspiring to do great things as children--the young idealists that they are--succeed at, and we--the aging realists--fail miserably at. The child pumped his legs down on his pedals, vrrooming, squealing, and laughing, making motorcycle noises of some imaginary dirt bike race that he was winning. I'd then catch them again at 6:10s and the father would call out to his child to hurry it back up and to quit this silliness, cutting short the dirt bike race, and pushing him along. By now the Kenyans were within earshot. We all suddenly crashed together; we all collided metaphysically at this exact moment on the Betzwood Trail and the symbolism of it all struck me profoundly, almost making me stop. On one side, the fast, dark, gangly Africans with their arms up tight and their legs chopping the air at 5:00 pace. They are the ones that do and toil, they live with so little; they live apart from families thousands of miles away so they can lay it on the line and strike it rich by winning that one big race--still dreaming. $10,000 goes a long way in Kenya. Sandwiched in between: an American father and son. The son, an idealist, and like the Kenyans, envisioning races and victories--aspiring and dreaming. The father, dropping the curtain down on the dream by introducing reality--squashing it all in the damned interest of appearance and expediency. Faster yes, but in the wrong direction, away from the dreamers, following the current, downstream, towards reality and a boring life of mediocrity. On the other side, the white boy, me with my shirt off, going in the other direction too but torn in two. It's up to me to decide. ------------------ It's come to my attention as of late that I've dropped more f- bombs than the first 10 seconds of Deadwood. For some reason, the current of emotion has swept me into the silt and the mire of profanity. I shall endeavor to use profanity less frequently. We all know that when you ring the f-bomb gong one too many times, your readers become tone deaf and the impact of your writing is lessened. F-bombs should be used only to declare war and to end a war, leaving crafty nouns and adjectives from thesaurus.com, offset by tanks for commas and infantrymen for semicolons, to fight the conventional fight. I supposed it all stems from the training. It's why letsrun.com's b-board is one big barbarian festival. We are all just a bunch of testosterone-spewing, cantankerous, irritable, overtrained and self-absorbed babies--pushing ourselves into the red zone where the primal ID wears the crown. ---------------- At the door yesterday. Josie: DD, did you win?!!! Me: Josie, come on there were a thousand people there! Josie: What did you win? Me: A HAZMAT suit. Josie: What's that? Me: It's some gimcrack that you are supposed to wear before a marathon. Josie: What's gimcrack? Me: Garbage I guess. Josie: Well next time win another racquet or some MONEY!!!! Me: I'll try my best honey. (I only write about this story, because my daughter has memorized the cash award table for the VCM and already has picked out what she will buy according to place--split 50/50 of course. There's no pressure like the pressure of your business partner in these things.) -------------------------------------- Further proof that we have a long way to go still in the march for equal rights for distance runners: (Penn Relays schedule excerpt--bold is my shock annotation) 74 High School Girls Distance Medley "Championship", 6:35 pm 75 High School Girls Mile Run "Championship", 6:50 pm 76 High School Girls 3000m "Championship", 6:55 pm 77 College Men Steeplechase "Championship", 7:15 pm 78 College Men Steeplechase, 7:25 pm 79 Olympic Development Men Steeplechase, 7:35 pm 80 Olympic Development Women Steeplechase, 7:45 pm 81 College Women Steeplechase "Championship", 7:45 pm 82 College Women Steeplechase, 8:00 pm 83 College Women 3000m, 8:15 pm 84 College Women 5000m "Championship", 8:25 pm 85 Olympic Development Women 5000m, 8:45 pm 86 College Men 5000m "Championship", 9:05 pm 87 College Men 5000m, 9:25 pm 88 Olympic Development Men 5000m, 9:45 pm 89 College Women 10,000m "Championship", 10:00 pm 90 Olympic Development Women 10,000m, 10:00 pm 91 College Men 10,000m "Championship", 10:40 pm 92 Olympic Development Men 10,000m, 10:40 pm