Nobody Knows Anything

Welcome to Diane Patterson's eclectic blog about what strikes her fancy

Sleepyhead

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I got up this morning before the alarm clock, with only a little help from a shout down the hall — “Daddy, I’m scared!” “Okay, then come down here.” “No…” — and I got on the road as soon as it was twilight. I ran for two hours, by myself, sans iPod Shuffle, which is some kind of record for me. No conversation, no music. I can’t do running as meditation though: my brain goes a mile a minute, even as my body is going considerably slower.

The only problem I had with the run was this odd pain I get in my right hip. I describe it as being in the ball-and-socket of the joint, but to be honest, I don’t know what it is. It’s not the IT band problem I’ve had. And it always hits about the same time in a long run, 2/3 in. A little stretching seems to have taken care of it, but it’s a problem I’d like to solve before I hurt something.

I came back to the house and started preparing for the family brunch we were hosting. I made coffeecake muffins (two words: tas. tee.) and Darin made the French scrambled eggs and Mitch cooked the bacon. I also made drinking chocolate à la Café Angelina, of which a person could only drink about 2 or 3 ounces before we needed to get out the syringe of adrenaline. (Even the kids didn’t want seconds.) We gave Scott and Christy their (slightly belated) wedding gifts, and Scott and Christy gave the kids some gifts they had for them.

The guests left, the kids vegged on the couch watching “Batman: The Animated Series”, and I did the first load of dishes.

And then I fell unconscious for two hours. As I always do after a longish run, or a hard run like the Rodeo Beach run Rob and I did a couple of weeks ago.

What is the deal? Isn’t exercise supposed to give me energy? If I schedule two hours for a morning run, I’d better schedule two in the afternoon for a nap, because around two p.m. all my systems shut down. “Warning! Warning! We are Code Fade-to-Black!” I like that I have managed to work up to doing a two hour run (which was about 10 miles), and if I can figure out what the deal is with my hip, I’d even like to try to go further. But I can’t just pass out for an entire afternoon every time.

I’m hoping this is a phase, that eventually my body will adjust to the slightly more intense level of workout I’ve been putting it through of late (changing my thyroid medications was, I think, a big help).

The Rodeo Beach Trail Run

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Today’s trail run was at Fort Cronkhite, in the Marin headlands, just over the Golden Gate Bridge. Two words: utterly gorgeous. We started across the street from a popular surfing spot — the water temperature approached 0 Kelvin, but there were a lot of surfers out there — and we ran up the hill (puff, puff) past lots and lots of WWII (or WWI? or earlier?) concrete gun emplacements. There’s a lotta concrete in the hillside up there, complete with bunkers with iron doors.

Hey, no one ever invaded the Bay, did they? (If I remember correctly, the Presidio was originally built to defend against the Russians…the Tsarist Russians. So it wouldn’t surprise me if those bunkers were WWI or even earlier.)

The start of the run was brutal: pretty much the entire 1100 foot rise was the first half of the run. Everyone was walking after a while, except maybe the extremely fit. I asked Rob if he was getting a workout, and he said, “I don’t do these runs for the workout. I do the workouts so I can do these runs.” (Because they’re so beautiful.)

I’m pretty sure I didn’t beat the 9-year-old this time, but this is definitely a run we’d do again. The surroundings are completely stunning — more than once we stopped not (just) for me to catch my breath, but just to look out at the Bay and the Pacific and the headlands — and, except for not being able to hack the initial run to the top, I didn’t find the trail excruciating. I felt pretty good at the end, actually.

I don’t know what the trail runs will be like during winter. Wet dirt trails don’t sound like much fun, but the uncertainness of the terrain is half the fun of these things. Much better than a boring ol’ flat land run, that’s for sure. And my desire to run (or at least keep jogging) all the way to the top of one of these runs is quite the inventive for me to keep up my program.

What amazes me are the people who do the 50km runs. (Not that I’ve been around long enough to see what they look like when they get back.) They do a run much longer than a marathon over terrain harder than any normal marathon, and there’s no medal at the end, no cars to win.

I would love to be one of those runners. I guess I need to work my way up to doing a 20km run first.

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During the drive back I pulled out my Alphasmart and managed to write 600 words as Rob drove. And now I have to go do my other 1400 for the day.

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Update: Rob points me to a page that talks about the artillery bunkers and emplacements at Fort Cronkhite.

PG&E Trail

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Nina, Rob, and I set off to Rancho San Antonio to do the PG&E Trail: about 8.5 miles with a 1000+ foot rise overall. Since it was Daylight Standard Time, it was nice and light out at 7 when we got there.

We headed up. Pretty steep. On the second major hill I said, “Are you guys even breathing hard?” They weren’t. We agreed we would all meet up at Vista Point, the halfway point in the trail, after which we’d start heading down the hill.

Puff. Puff. Puff.

I managed to keep running for a while…but not the whole way. Eventually I stopped and started hiking up. At one point I saw Nina and Rob off in the distance — at one point I was only 20, 30 meters behind them. But then they started running up the hill again and I just puffed along.

We met up at Vista Point, and Nina and Rob seemed to be surprised by my appearance. My appearance so close behind them, not my appearance-close-to-death. We started down the hill and Rob began explaining to Nina that I am fervently, hopelessly competitive.

Which was roughly when I felt a sharp sting on my scalp. That grew into a sharp, terrible pain. I doubled over and yelled, “Is there something in my hair?”

Indeed, there was. A yellow jacket had just stung me on the back of my head. I don’t know what happened to the yellow jacket. Nina pulled out the stinger. (She said, “This is going to hurt.” I said, “Go ahead. Can’t hurt any worse.” And it didn’t.)

We had to walk all the way back to the car. Jostling my head hurt too much.

Can I just say that getting stung on the scalp is one of the more surprising things that’s ever happened to me?

I was bummed that we had to walk half the way, but the downhill portion of the PG&E is gorgeous: looks out over Santa Clara Valley to the Bay. Really is a pretty area we live in. And the weather was absolutely perfect: about 70 at the highest (which, if you are climbing 1000+ feet, is just what you want).

At Rob’s house Nina got out a sting kit and Rob gave me an Advil and some coffee, so I was good to go. The sting still hurts, but apparently I’m not allergic to yellowjacket bites (this would be my second one in the past four months). I am worried about taking a shower and washing my hair though. Oooch.