Dear Running of the Pink friends,
I have heard from
several people, including a couple of runners coming out of long retirement.
They have been following my suggestions, which causes me to wonder: Didn’t your mother ever teach you anything
when you were growing up? Like don’t jump off a cliff because that dummy does.
Safety
I
promise to tell you the toilet paper story if you take these safety tips to
heart.
1.
Always run facing traffic. This gives you time
to react to bad drivers, drunks and people who are mad at you for not answering
their Facebook messages. When I cross an intersection I always make eye contact
with the drivers. You can never assume that you are seen.
2.
Wear a reflective vest if it is even a little
dark. Even as a perceptive runner, I am startled by runners wearing dark cloths
thinking that because they can see you, you can see them.
3.
I have begun to carry my driver’s license with
me. While I am likely to perish of old age on my runs, you certainly want an
emergency responder to be able to identify you. They make neat ID’s that go on
your shoelaces, but I like the license idea.
4.
I love the headband headlight solution. I have
fallen many times through the years and the headlight would have solved that
while making me visible to cars during my upright moments.
Toilet Paper
I lived in Valley
City for a number of years and one foggy New Year’s Eve a number of us fat boys
decided that we were going to run the Grand Forks Half Marathon. We met at the
golf course the next day and couldn’t jog the 350 yards to the first hole. We
used the steps I have been suggesting in this blog and they worked. I was lucky
that two of my running mates were Earl and Glen Pomeroy. Even then, they were
such politicians that they stopped at every old lady’s garden and complimented
Mabel or Sadie on the glory of their produce, while I got to walk and recover
for the run until they spotted the next likely voter. We never ran more than
eight miles, but eight, thirteen, what’s the difference? I have found that if
you prep well you will have what it takes to run faster and further on race
day, although eight may have been a little weak and I would practice ten or
eleven as I have gained experience.
We stayed in Grand
Forks the night before the race and I ran into some NDSU elite runners who were
going to do the marathon. Being accustomed to the old bland spaghetti dinner
the night before the race, I was shocked at the new rules that allowed them to
suggest we meet for pizza. In a lifetime first for the Pomeroys, we got there
early and in the spirit of this new dietary guidance we ordered pepperoni and
sausage pizza and beer. When the elites arrived they ordered cheese pizza and
water. Hoo Boy.
At the seven mile
mark, I was well on my way to win the $75 bet we had ginned up when the Shakey’s
Supreme began to speak to me and it wasn’t saying see you in six more miles. As
a modest North Dakotan, I realized my only hope was an upcoming shelterbelt. I
left the road, seeking inner peace at a discrete distance, finding my solace
was only a one row belt. Either my front or my back was going to become famous.
Shakey’s said “It’s now or never” so step one was solved. Now in a rational
mind I concentrated on step two, I tried every reasonable tactic, I tried to
tear the bottom half off my shirt, no go. I tried to tear the tops off my
socks, no go. I contemplated running the next six miles with one sock, no go.
As a good Altar boy, I was finally struck with an epiphany; I would use a leaf
from the tree I was standing under. Turns out that God does know if you are
paying attention at Church, the tree was a Russian Olive with leaves the size
of my fingernail. I finally bunny hop with my shorts around my ankles to an
Elm, not contemplating for a moment the chances of Dutch Elm disease being
transferred in the fashion I intended.
Back on the street
with renewed vigor, I passed the Pomeroy boys going into the chute, won the $75
and was forced to use my $75 to buy them a $100 lunch.
Carry a little
toilet paper on a longer run.
See you soon,
Casey
