The running encyclopedia ...

On Saturday, while out for a long walk, a car pulled up to the Professor while she was on Mountain Road. The person in the passenger's seat asked if she could help with directions. The Professor said, "Sure, where are you trying to go?"

"Six Flags," the passenger replied, straight-faced. "Can you tell me how to get to Six Flags?"

Bewildered by the query (since Six Flags is: 1. not in Connecticut and 2. Absolutely nowhere near Mountain Road in West Hartford - 30 miles and a 45 minute drive at the minimum), the Professor immediately grew suspicious, as if these people were trying to catch her off-guard before they tossed a pillowcase over her head and crunched her into the trunk. She gave them an "are you serious?" look, then said they should begin by finding Massachusetts via 91 north.

When she got home and told me the story, it reminded me of a similar situation that I was in a few years back, when we were still living in Boston. It was the morning of the Boston Marathon. I was out for a run before heading into work, when a car pulled up next to me and a woman in her mid-thirties and her husband asked: "How do I get to the staring line of the marathon?" This was asked in a nonchalant way, like they were driving along and thought, "Look, there's a runner, we must be close!" Perhaps they thought I must have been heading there myself. Never in their minds, I'm sure, did it occur to them that, since a marathon is 26.2 miles long, the starting line wasn't going to be anywhere near the corner of the city we were occupying. Yet, I tried to help them. I gave them my best description of the marathon route (at least, the best I could remember) and told them to head toward Hopkinton. I even warned them that by the time they got there, the marathon would be fully underway, that their best bet was to drive up to Boston College and camp out on Heartbreak Hill.

It's funny to hear the things people say to you while you're running. More often than not, you're either a human GPS or a target for insults. I don't mind the GPS questions, as long as it doesn't slow me down all that much. I do mind the insults, though even those can be so odd that they're memorable. An example: Right after I moved here, I, along with a few other runners that were on the same road, were barraged by the drunken rants of a teenager in a passing car (the fact that it was around ten o'clock in the morning is an entirely other issue). I wasn't able to hear what was said to the other runners, but to me he said, "I'd teabag that." Huh? I didn't know whether to laugh or lunge at him. It confused me and made me wonder why people bothered? What pleasure comes from shouting out a window? At a runner, of all people!

But every once in a while there's the person who counters the 17-year-old boys. They're the positive reinforcement, the stranger that, for whatever reason, wants to keep you going when you're pounding the pavement. Those are the people you want to run past every day. The ones that say, "good job" or "keep it up." The ones who say these things because they're nice, because they want to say them. They're a rare breed. Sadly, for every shout of encouragement, there's at least a few invitations to lewd sexual acts involving testicles.

So, runners (and walkers) out there, do you have any funny or odd encounters with strangers that you'd like to share? If so, leave a message in the comments below.

Raven's Run

As a runner, every once in a while I find I need something to motivate me to tie on my sneakers and hike out in the rain or the cold to get my miles in for the day. The following video, from ESPN's Outside The Lines, is one of those motivators. It focuses on Robert "The Raven" Kraft, a man who has logged over 100,000 miles doing a daily 8 mile run along the Miami shoreline. He has never missed a day in 35 years, regardless of mother nature's interference or physical restrictions. It's a story of a man dedicated to something, which is so incredibly rare to see these days.

Check it out:

The town is out and about, as are their dogs

This morning brought the first opportunity to run since my incident with the dog (more specifically, the dog's teeth). For those interested, my hip has a really ugly bruise. The scratch is healing, though with it being on my hip, it is pretty painful (I must say that I'm really glad I was wearing the amount of layers that I was. Otherwise, I probably would have ended up in the ER for a shot and/or stitches. Thank you, overshirt, thermal undershirt, shorts, shorts pocket material, and underwear!). 

But I'm not one to sit around. I needed to get back on the horse. So I suited up and hit the street.

There's an amazing amount of people out and about today. The MS Walk that's happening around town has drawn hundreds of people to the streets. And with those hundreds of people are scores of dogs. My worst nightmare! I've never passed so many dogs on a run in all my life. It was definitely a baptism-by-fire moment. If there was any trepidation I had in running past seemingly friendly dogs, I was quickly forced to man-up.

Thankfully, my days since a time loss incident continues to stand at 2. The weather sure is beautiful out there. We've really been lucky the past couple of days.

Bit by a dog

I was bit by a dog while out for a run this morning. 

The woman walking the dog was both mortified and incredibly defensive in the immediate aftermath.

"Are you okay?" she asked in her first breath as I scanned my body for damage. "You know, this isn't my dog," came in the second.

I checked my hip, the location of the bite. It looked to just be a scratch. My clothes weren't torn. The dog's teeth hadn't actually made it through to the skin. I waved it off.

"This isn't my dog," she reiterated as I said I was fine.

I continued to run. Made it about 2 more miles. Then the pain started. I looked under the rib of my waistband to see that the scratch really wasn't a scratch but more of a long bruise pockmarked with tiny tears. I was bleeding.

I turned around and ran home. The Professor had a priceless look on her face when I told her what happened. 

Honestly, I'm surprised it has taken this long to be bitten by a dog. I've been running for about 5 years. I've passed thousands of dogs.

I mean, I've kicked a squirrel when out running (it ran square in front of my foot, I swear.). What are the odds of that compared to getting bit by a dog?

Well, the Prof just got back with a gigantic band-aid to fix me up. Signing off, beware of a large yellow dog roaming the streets of West Hartford. The woman walking it, from what I gathered, is NOT the owner.  

What a strange week this has been.

. . . 4 hubcaps, 3 dead birds, 2 ladies shoes, and a patch of black ice for enemies!

I have several routes that I run in West Hartford. Most are pretty boring, at least as far as unusual discoveries are concerned. However, there's one path that I take that provides plenty of odd sights. It revolves around Park Road and includes stretches of Prospect Ave., Kane Street, Oakwood Ave., and the like.

If you're looking for some last minute stocking stuffers, and have been hit by the rough economy and are looking to do Christmas on the cheap, might I suggest the following locations and items:

Kane Street seems to be the place to go if you're looking for frozen dead birds. Seriously, there are quite a few. You don't even have to look. They're right there in the middle of the sidewalk. Big, black birds that are no more. One could easily convince an elderly relative with poor eyesight that such a creature, firmly attached to the floor of a bird cage , is just a quiet, loving pet.

Missing a hubcap? Then head on over to Oakwood and Park, where they have so many, they're throwing them onto the sidewalk! Be careful, though. Some piles seem random, but, if my guess is correct, they are actually elaborate installation art. You may want to ask someone before taking one for your toddler or dog.

Do you have a special lady in your life? Does she have two feet? Is she not a clown? If so, South Highland Street has a pair of average sized ladies shoes, neatly laid on the grass at the curb, waiting for some new paws to keep warm. Hurry over before they're gone!

Last on the list is something for the enemy in your life. Send them on a lovely trip to Flatbush Avenue. It's cheap, it's local, and there's plenty of black ice on the sidewalks to make even the most careful of steppers slip and break a hip! Of course, then you'll have to visit them at the hospital. But, even then, you can steal their mail while they're on the mend! It's a win-win!

No need to thank me, desperate shoppers. I just think that, this time of year, everyone should be helping out his fellow man. 

Your welcome.

Falling down laughing

I fell today while running. Lousy West Hartford sidewalks. It was embarrassing. And, it broke my 8+ year streak of not falling down in public (the Guinness World Record people will be SO disappointed). My left leg is all scraped up, as is my left elbow and palm.

On my pathetic walk home, I began to think of the most embarrassing things I have done. Here's what I could remember, in no particular order of embarrassment:

1. Hit a dog named Magic while riding my bicycle, which tossed me over my handlebars and scared the dog to the point of bladder evacuation. A well aimed bladder evacuation, might I add. All over my bike.

2. Ignored a Russian woman who tripped while crossing the road. Then, had said woman get to her feet and charge at me, screaming in Russian and broken English about how horrible I was for not helping her get to her feet (to be fair, her trip happened out of my eye-line. I noticed her after she fell and estimated that, by the time I walked to her, she would already be on her feet. Of course, my estimation was really off and it took her a very long time to get off the pavement). This brought much attention to me after the screaming stopped. Not "good" attention, either.

3. Rode a canine-urine-soaked bicycle across town to get home.

4. Accidentally tripped a blind person who was walking along the aisle of the subway in Boston, causing them to almost fall to the floor.

5. Punched a clown. Just because.

6. Had a homeless man listen to my hand. In front of a large number of people. Waiting for a train.

7. Called my friend Robert to see if he wanted to chip in on a birthday gift for our mutual friend, only to find out A.) that he really wasn't friends with said person and B.) because of this, he was not invited to said person's birthday party.

8. Lost a cat I was pet-sitting.

9. Spent 3 hours hunting for a lost cat.

10. Had a car stop in the middle of the road while I was walking down the sidewalk. The driver, a middle-aged woman, rolled down her window and insisted I was a famous actor (which, as far as I could tell, I clearly wasn't). She didn't believe me until I brought forth the fact that said famous actor probably wouldn't have been walking around the neighborhood I was in, nor would he have been hanging around Boston, in general. This did take several minutes and caused many cars to honk at the car stopped in the middle of the road.

11. Broke down in the Sumner Tunnel in Boston. During rush hour.

And, finally . . .

12. Vomited in the middle of an Abdow's Big Boy restaurant. Then, while rushing to the bathroom, heard someone actually say, "I'll have anything but what that kid ordered."

Man, this list could go on forever.

Okay, so maybe one of these isn't true at all. And, maybe one happened to someone else I know. Or, maybe I'm just saying this to make you think I didn't do so many embarrassing things.

You never know.

Monday morning run thoughts . . .

. . . A sure sign Halloween has come and gone in New England? Candy wrappers mixed within the fallen leaves. Reese's, Snickers, Butterfingers, and Skittles blend in the most. Crunch, Baby Ruth, and Almond Joy, the worst . . .

. . . I wonder if, at the candy company, any thought is put into making wrappers blend in with environment . . .

. . . As I was just typing "Butterfinger," I accidentally wrote "Butterfonger." Now, that's a candy bar I'd be interested in trying . . .

. . . Sad news for those waiting for the magical leaf vacuum truck to come by today in West Hartford. Looks like the workers were having some issues with it when I passed them on South Quaker Lane this morning . . . 

. . . Apparently, the truck has realized how silly the whole service is and has gone on strike . . .

. . . Breathing the Fall air this morning, I was relieved to find that, starting a new decade of life today, it did not smell any different, nor did it feel any different as it passed through my lungs. My big fear is that, one day, these things will change . . .

. . . Wow, that was deep . . .

. . . I really don't get gas prices in this state, and, for that matter, the crazy gas tax. But, one thing that really bugs me around here are the "cash" and "credit" prices at gas stations . . .

. . . That's for another time . . .  

The Hartford Half Marathon: fun, pain, and a bag of junk

Saturday, October 11th, brought the 15th annual Hartford Marathon to our fair capital. And, since today is Sunday, October 12th, all signs point to myself having survived the festivities.

This is not to imply, dear reader, that I completed the full marathon. Oh no. I partook in the hosted half marathon, along with a sell-out number of runners (3,500, though only a little more than 3,100 completed the event and had their times recorded). Packed like sardines for the first few miles, we made our way around Bushnell Park, over Founder's Bridge, around East Hartford, back over Founder's Bridge, through downtown, over to Park Street, and eventually back to Bushnell. It was certainly an interesting way to get a tour of the city, seeing as I still hadn't explored Hartford since arriving in the state late this summer.

I ran with my uncle and good friend. We lost my friend shortly after the 7 mile water stand, but my uncle and I stuck together until about mile 12, when the mad dash to finish took place. I didn't set a personal record yesterday (I finished at 2:02), but I had a fun time getting from Point A to Point B. And, now that the event is over, I can let my sore hip, hurt about 6 weeks ago (thanks to one of the BEST drivers in West Hartford failing to stop for pedestrians at a crosswalk) and throbbing by mile 10, heal itself properly. Though, to be quite honest, I don't know if I can lay off the running for the week needed to rest.

So, congratulations to all the runners, from the 5k to the marathon to my brethren in the half. Just completing these runs are accomplishments and everyone involved should be proud. Now, enjoy your just desserts. Have a big bowl of ice cream. Order a big, juicy hamburger. You've all earned it!

Oh, and, for those attending and not running yesterday, thanks for all of the support. Your cheering really motivated all of us on the road. And, a special thanks to the folks that volunteered, manned the water stations, and provided course music and entertainment (and, "officer-dancing-to-'Bust a Move'," that especially applies to you).

A final note . . .

Non-participants may have noticed a sea of orange bags carried by runners before and after the race. What was inside? To be honest, mostly items filling many recycling bins this week. Lots of ads from sponsors. A few coupons. Some lip balm. A pen. A can cozy. A full page ad from McDonald's touting healthy foods and quality products (whaaaa?). Some sunscreen. Nothing very exciting, so you didn't miss all that much.

That's it. We went, we saw, we ran. And, after some ice packs and Advil (and, for me, 7 days of scheduled rest), we'll be ready to do it again.

Where the sidewalk ends . . .

I came upon this while running a week or two ago and finally got around to taking a picture. The location is a few miles from my apartment, on King Philip Drive. Somehow I don't think this is what Shel Silverstein had in mind:

I don't think I've ever come across a sidewalk that just . . . stops. No warning, no signs, no crosswalk to get you across the busy street to the other sidewalk, just . . . nothing. Very odd.