I had no horse!

That's how I felt on my planned 6 miles yesterday. It was supposed to be a tempo run, but after the 1st mile warm up and 2 at tempo, I was dying. Dead legs, felt like I was running in waist deep water. Decided to go out and back for a 4th mile and call it, but ended up doing a shorter loop that put me closer to 5 miles. It was 90 and high humidity, so some conditioning and better hydration are in order I think

A moment he won't ever forget

Miss Mamie doesn't have cable. That makes it tough on an avid Braves fan, since so many games have been scheduled on cable channels. But Tuesday night, she decided to come watch with me so that we could also catch Barak Obama's speech after he clinched the Democratic nomination.

It was an exciting game. You always have to sweat it when Soriano comes on to close because he sometimes walks a lot of batters and can load up the bases. But he pitched a perfect 3-up, 3-down top of the 9th and wrapped it up. And just moments later, Obama came on to put on an even better performance.

Miss Mamie has seen a lot. Her dad died when she was 4 or 5, and she, her mom, some aunts and an uncle tried to make ends meet working a few acres of cotton they owned. She moved to Atlanta when she was 12. She attended school and did domestic work in some homes. As she put it, "I've worked my whole life." Her life also included living through the civil rights movement here in the home of Dr. King. She hasn't told me much about that yet.

But, about 10 minutes in to Obama's speech, she said it was late and she was tired and would go home. Before she left, she got just a little misty-eyed as she said, "no matter what happens after this, it's a moment he won't ever forget." I guess she won't forget it either. Nor will I.

Up Yonder on the Chattahoochie

I got my long run in after work - 7 miles. I ran on the 3 mile loop at the Chattahoochie off New Northside. It's pretty well shaded, pretty well flat, soft trails, and, most importantly, has water fountains along the way. It also has distance markers every quarter mile.

Math and I haven't gotten along so well since 8th grade when Mr. Coffee "lost" several of my tests and I almost failed and would go off on screaming jags and throw books at the class and stuff. But I digress. I have to be very literal about keeping up with miles and it usually takes way more thought than it should to figure out how to track 7 miles on a 3 mile loop.

On this trail, I go from the start marker around to the 3 mile marker - which is NOT at the same place as the start marker. So I turn around there and run the trail backwards. I planned, once I arrived back at start, to turn around and go back out for 1/2 mile and back. But it was a tough run, and I knew that there was no way that I would go back out for that last mile if my car was in sight at mile 6. So hang in there with me: I'm running "backwards" according to the mile markers. At the mile 1 marker (which was the end of mile 5 of the run), I turned around, ran back to the 1.5 mile marker, then turned back around to finish. See, I really had to think all of this through in just as much detail as I'm writing it to be sure I was figuring the miles correctly.

The deal with myself was that once I got to the 1 mile marker again (mile 6 in my run), I'd just try to keep running as far as I could back to the car/start marker. If I had to quit, it was okay. But I didn't quit!

no long run

I was supposed to do 7 miles as my long run today, but my knee is hurting. Hopefully I can get it in after work tomorrow. It may be time to have a follow up PT visit to see if I'm not recovering as I should or if my head is just messed up.

Nostalgia

Yesterday, I had a haircut appointment back in my old neighborhood on the other side of town. Truth be told, I really missed living over there. It just seemed so easy. A great little sandwich shop was out behind the hair salon. And no one asked me for money or looked at me like I didn't belong there. No one was obviously a prostitute either. I stopped by a furniture consignment shop - one that's actually indoors, not just a random collection of goods lined up along a sidewalk in a parking lot. The farmer's market was close by. I got fresh fruits and veggies and a couple of bottles of wine that all cost much less than anything near me. I stopped for gas that's at least 10 cents/gallon cheaper than anywhere near my house. Then I swung by a cute little gift shop for a wedding gift. I was even close enough to just drop by a good friend's house.

This move felt costly on Saturday. I'm a bit of an alien here, just a few miles from my old neighborhood that felt so familiar. I do not doubt that I'm where I'm supposed to be. But I guess I was just reminded that following a calling to something new means leaving some things behind. For me, it's the comfortable and familiar that's been left behind.

Vacation

I got some great runs in while at the beach for a long weekend. Running on the beach was out. It was too unstable for my knee. But I did get a 4+ miler in on Sat., and a 6+ miler on Mon. I also had a beach romance with a bike - a little pedal thing with no gears and cute little basket.

I just checked out my routes on Map My Run, and it turns out I rode nearly 12 miles on Sunday evening, then another 12 miles right after my 6 mile run on Monday morning (can you say dead legs), and a final 7 to pick up chocolate croissants for breakfast on Tuesday. This was in my final quest to find something useful to tote in my basket.

It was hard to walk away from that cute little bike, but it was just a vacation romance.

It's a Mystery

Someone moved into the house next door while I was out of town this weekend. That's good, since it's been empty since last spring, at least. Empty houses on the street become Motel 8 for the homeless, drug users, and prostitutes as well as a home salvage store where anything that can be detached is taken by anyone who finds it useful.

Here's my question. How is possible that as soon as they have arrived at this new location the car on the carport has the hood popped open and there's a car part lying on the ground next to it? Plus some seats pulled out and propped up against the wall. There's hardly been time for the car to break down and need work.

Don't get me wrong. I grew up in Appalachia, so it feels kind of homey. Just curious.

Here's another question. Is it possible to plan to be a good neighbor while I'm thinking of what I can plant to screen that carport from my view?

Questions

Feeling some pain and swelling after the 5 miles Sun., so I didn't run my easy 2 yesterday. I'm going to do them today no matter what, but I wonder if it's part of the process or if it's a problem.

This recovery process is as much mental as anything. I find myself analyzing every twinge and wondering is this "recovery pain" or "injury pain", swelling from just getting back into it or swelling because something's wrong. My thinking needs to get in shape as much as my body does.

Welcome to the neighborhood

Saturday was a meet and greet party with my neighbors on the street. They turned into a welcome party for me. What a blast! I'd bet anybody I've got the cutest, fiesty-ist bunch of 70 - 80 something's living around me in the whole city. There are other younger folk too, of course. But I can't wait to have Mamie and Myrtle, not to mention Myrtice, Miss Mamie, and Miss Ernestine all over for dinner. I was informed that there used to be a "neighborhood club" that would meet every so often at someone's house. But the club had never been held at my house. Guess I'll need to resurrect it sometime this summer and host a club gathering.

The Mile that Counts

Every time I add a mile, it's the first time I've run X miles since November. Yesterday it was 5 miles. I did it on the 5K trail by the Chattahoochie, since it's soft. Kept a 10 min avg pace - high 10:05, low 9:53 - and it was the last mile.

As I turned the loop for mile 5, the mile I haven't done since November, I was telling myself "this is the mile that counts, the one that's going to get you back." Yeah I know - when you aren't listening to music you talk to yourself a lot - or I do anyway.

The run felt great, the knee feels ok - it's still a little swollen today.

Training Again

I've been gone a while haven't I? I'm finally back to a training schedule and my weekly mileage has crossed into double digits. Last Saturday, I did my 2nd 5K of the spring. My time was really slow because of the crowd and because I chose to run and visit with a volunteer running for our organization. It was more about the cause (Susan G. Komen for the Cure) than time anyway.

Here's proof I did it - and proof I've gotten plenty flabby in the past several months.

Oh and that's not my volunteer - this was the last 1/2 mile when she stopped to walk and I tried to pick up the pace.

Remembering Where I Live

Yes I'm a mega-blogger today. But it was these 3 events that prompted me to start recording more than refurbishing a house. Living in my neighborhood is what making a home is all about.

After Thurs. and Fri., I was, quite frankly, enamored with my neighborhood. No one had stolen the box of giveaway stuff I left on the front porch or the rocker sitting out there either. People knew me, people came to visit, we're planning a potluck meet 'n greet in the park on Sat.

But, I've got so much to learn about living in the place I really live.

Saturday night I was all up in the bed with my laptop on, working on a running schedule. About 11 p.m. hear some rapid gunfire (after imitating to some folks, I think it was semi-automatic). Then soon after, another round, then another. It sounded like it was coming from behind my house - toward the elementary school which is also on a sketchy corner that seems to play host to prostitutes and dealers. I decided to call the police to describe what I was hearing. Then a few minutes after, the next round sounded a tad closer. (my dog was snoring loudly through the whole thing)

I felt a little silly, but thought how crappy it would be to have a stray bullet hit me in the head, so I moved down on the floor and kept working. Then there was a much closer-sounding round of fire and I got nervous.

A couple of minutes later, the neighbor's dog started barking crazily, and even old Ellie Mae lifted her head and perked up her ears. I thought I heard something metal banging right behind the house. I crept to the back and turned on the floodlight into the backyard, but didn't see anything amiss.

I eventually heard a lot of sirens and no more gunfire, so I went to sleep. It wasn't until the next morning, when I went to let the dog into the back yard, that I noticed the fence gate standing wide open. I thought the storms had blown it until I looked to see the gate on the opposite side of the house standing open to. Only then did it hit me that someone - the one shooting? the one being shot at? both? had run right through my back yard and past my bedroom window.

Sunday afternoon I learned from a neighbor that someone had been found shot on the corner, 3 houses down from me. I can't find it in the news since there were more tornados Sun. a.m.

Funny, that driving home from a friend's house on Sat., I was working on memorizing verses from Isaiah 58 - that real spirituality isn't fasting, but spending your life on breaking oppression and doing away with injustice and caring for the needs of the hungry, homeless, naked, and all others living in the general human condition. The specific promise I kept repeating was "then your righteousness will go before you and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard." It was a promise He kept within hours!

It makes me a little afraid to have it so close. It makes me a lot mad. Of course this had to do with drugs: dealing them, stealing for them, something. And my neighborhood doesn't belong to those dealers. It makes me a tad wiser to not feel silly moving away from the windows when I hear gunfire. It makes me wonder how to be a good neighbor.

What is That Strange White Woman Doing Now?

OK no one actually said those words to me on Friday, but there's no way my neighbors weren't thinking it.

See I decided to take my dog out to walk around the block a couple of times when I got home from the gym and from work. Since I was staying in view of the house, I just locked the outside door (a wrought iron door with a screen) using my single spare key and dropped it into the pouch on the inside of my shorts.

About 2/3's of the way around the block, I felt for the key. No key. Shook out the pocket. Nothing. Wiggled the running shorts around. Nada.

So for the next hour I walked in circles around the median park in the middle of the street, bent over and staring at the ground and hoping to catch sight of a glint of metal. On the 3rd time around, I put the very bored dog in the backyard. At least 4 neighbors asked if I was ok and where my dog was.

It was great to know they were watching and were concerned about me. It was embarassing to admit what a dingbat I was.

And lest you worry, I didn't find the key in the street and had to force open a window to the laundry porch to retrieve another spare key that is no longer hanging within reach of that window. (this is not good news, security-wise). A little while later, I discovered the missing key lodged inside the elastic lining of my running shorts.

Neighborly Visits

Thursday was a banner day. Miss Mamie called from next door and asked to come over to see the house and visit. I've been inviting her for weeks, but so far she's only wanted me to come in her house. She's 74, never married or had children. She is faithful to her Council on Aging and AARP meetings and events, church, and the annual family homecoming south of the city. She listens to the Braves, but isn't so sure about going to a game with me.

Like everyone else on the street, she always wants to know how my parents are and when they will be back. In particular, we've got a couple of projects for my dad to do on her house. We talked about getting our yards mowed, fencing off the opening in her back fence to stop people cutting through and other neighborly stuff. We even talked a little politics.

I'm looking forward to knowing Miss Mamie better. She moved onto this street in the early 60's at the height of the civil rights movement in Atlanta. It was previously a predominantly white neighborhood. I want to know what it was like for her, how the neighborhood changed, what she experienced.

the first mile

Yesterday I did my first jog post-op. I had tried one run on the treadmill before my surgery. In fact, it was the cramping and pain after half a mile that led to me deciding to have the surgery after all.

Yesterday's run was much better. Did a mile on the elliptical and stretched to warm up. Then hopped on the treadmill. Definitely this will take humility. I started very slowly and worked up the speed, but ended up with a blazing 13:20 mile. The good news was that I could have kept going. My new life is going to involve ice and ibuprofen (multiples of both) after my runs, at least for now. But that can't put a damper on the great feeling of finally moving forward.

I'm looking forward to sending my great doc and physical therapist some pictures of me finishing a race.

The Road Back

Today's my last physical therapy appointment for a while. Got released from the dr. yesterday after my 2nd post-op visit. Only a torn meniscus resulted in 3 1/2 months of no running.

The PT goal today is to jog on the treadmill and get me started back to running. I celebrated by signing up for the Peachtree Road Race (thanks to the generosity of a race sponsor and a friend!). I'll hopefully run or run/walk a couple of 5K's this spring too.

Now we'll see just how lazy I've gotten. I feel jealous and sad when I see runners out on Sat. a.m. doing their long runs. That should be me. But the feeling I want is me when I was in shape to run. Will I be humble enough to start from scratch again? To wonder if I can finish that 3 miles, 5 miles, heck even 1.5 miles?

Today is the first step on the road!