Three more states added and some notes for May

Since the middle of last month, I've added three new states (Texas, Ohio, and West Virginia) to my quest to run at least a 10K in all 50. I haven't had time to write up the runs in detail, but will soon, as each had its own profile and there's a lot that I want to record for future reference.

For now, the page that tracks progress in this pursuit (see the link at right) is updated with basic info. After a little more than a year, I'm already up to 14 states, and not just easy close-by ones, either. Just three more, and I'll be more than one-third done!

Will try to pick up North Carolina later this month; also Maine/Massachusetts/Vermont this summer if chances occur. In September, a silent film gig in Iola, Kansas provides the chance to pick up some combination of Iowa/South Dakota/Nebraska, and possibly Oklahoma as well. And a quick trip to Seattle at some point in the next months might add the state of Washington to the trophy list.

In terms of other quests: After a winter of no progress whatsoever, I intend to start adding conquests to my ongoing quest to run a minimum of a 5K in every city, town, or unincorporated place in New Hampshire. I have to keep reminding myself that my self-imposed deadline to finish this project is May 14, 2016. I have something like a hundred more to go, so I better get busy.

In terms of actual races, Hill and Brookline are coming up in the next month or so, but after that it looks like a pretty dry season for new towns. So all the more important to embark on 'do-it-yourself' 5K runs to start filling in the gaps. I expect this will be the first year 'do-it-yourself' towns will outnumber official race towns.

With the nicer weather, I've been out on the bike quite often, and also running with our dogs, so my fitness level is trending better, I think. I've also been going through a process of moving away from all processed foods and trying to limit my intake to whole foods high in nutrition and low in processing. While driving out to Ohio and back this last weekend, I noticed just how rare it is to find real food along the way, but that's a whole separate post.

Anyway, back to the bike: Feels good to ride again, and it's a necessary joint-friendly aerobic counter-balance to all the pounding from running. Speaking of which: all the two-leash running around the neighborhoods, with dogs pulling me in every direction, has made a noticeable difference in my upper body. Another incentive to keep doing it! :)

On the bike, I hope to do several long rides this season. 1. White Mountains loop up and over Kanc, Bear Notch, Crawford Notch, Franconia. 2. From York, Maine over new Memorial Bridge and all the way to my driveway in Bedford. 3. Lake Winnipesaukee loop, from my house. (That's about 120 miles. Doable but would take all day.) 4. More rides out through New Boston/Francestown to hill region of southwestern New Hampshire. Harrisville for lake swimming, or perhaps to my old stomping grounds of Charlestown/Claremont.

Swimming and biking will provide the base for at least one triathalon this summer: maybe a longer one rather that the "sprint" one I did last July, if my swimming allows for it.

And then there's the long-stalled challenge to run on every street in my hometown of Bedford. This remains about half-finished. One reason: I've always felt I should always start/finish at my home, and I've done all the reasonably close streets. So I might have to modify the rules to include remote starting points. We'll see.

My next physical is in June, about six weeks from now. We'll see if any progress has been made. :)

Looking ahead to April

Not much of this coming up in April, so time to take matters into my own hands—er, feet.

Okay, warmer weather is moving into our part of the world. That, and a personal vow to get more active just this one month, means more action on the fitness front, including progress on both of the long-term challenges to run in every New Hampshire community and every state in the union.

In the first instance, no races are being held this month in any Granite State places I need, so it's time to start freelancing. The biggest problem on that score is my schedule, which is pretty packed with other commitments. However, my equally important commitment to health must prevail sometime, and that sometime is now.

So, what's the schedule look like? Let's see...it looks like every Saturday this month, the mornings are open for me to get out and bag two towns by means of the "5K on either side of the border" method. So that's April 6, 13, 20, and 27 for a total of eight towns, if I complete the set. Seems doable, so let's commit to it.

But which towns? Well, I don't have my state map in front of me right now, but when I get back to my home office, I'll figure out which pairs make the most sense and then come up with a plan. Let's hope for some nice Saturdays so this doesn't become an ordeal.

And then on the "50 states" challenge, I might be able to bag Texas during a business trip on Tuesday, April 16. Other than that, not sure. Vermont, Massachusetts, and Maine are still open so maybe one of those, depending on the schedule. (I can always double up Maine for a business trip as well.)

The real jackpot for the "50 states" challenge will come during the first week of May, when I should be able to bag Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and perhaps a few others during a road trip to Cincinnati, Ohio. We shall see. Depends on how fast a start I can get on Wednesday, May 1. Right now the schedule calls for Pennsylvania on the morning of Thursday, May 2; Ohio on the morning of Friday, May 3; Indiana on the morning of Saturday, May, 4, and we'll go from there. Could also bag Kentucky, Michigan, or West Virginia, depending on the route back and how I feel.

By the time I get back to home base in New Hampshire, I should feel great! Or dead.

State No. 11: Connecticut, Wednesday, March 13

Evidence: the crumpled notepaper with my hastily scrawled route notes.

Okay, so it was almost a week ago and I'm only writing this out now. But I surprised even myself last Wednesday when I put on the running shoes in the bathroom of a McDonald's restaurant in Windsor Locks, Conn. And I surprised myself even further by running 8.1 miles though some varied end-of-winter New England landscapes.

What brought me to Connecticut? A sales call on Namco, a potential customer of our business. The sales call didn't last long, and I wasn't due in Syracuse, N.Y. until 9 p.m. So I had time for a run in Connecticut, a state I needed—but where?

I looked at the map. A quick swing up Interstate 91 would put me at Bradley International Airport, which serves the Hartford/Springfield area. I have a thing for running near airports, so all right, let's see what might happen. Thanks to Google maps, I quickly created a nice 8.1-mile triangle on local roads through Windsor Locks and Suffield, two towns on the airport's eastern perimeter. There was even some railroad track action involved, so it seemed promising.

And then there was the weather. It was a sunny afternoon and in the low 50s, well above my 40-degree limit for shorts/t-shirt. But a brisk wind from the west/northwest was blowing, and clouds were building in, making that breeze feel mighty cold in the shade. Still, it was mid-afternoon, and we'd just set our clocks ahead one hour, so I thought the run was doable with minimal gear.

The next thing I knew, I was changing in the bathroom of the McDonalds in Windsor Locks, emerging just in time to see a Delta Airlines MD-88 come coasting in on Runway 15-33. Nice. Then, clutching a piece of notepaper on which I'd hastily scrawled my route, I set off to the east on Elm Street to conquer yet another state in the union.



To my surprise, Elm Street had sidewalks all the way into town—about two miles! But then that shouldn't be surprising because Windsor Locks was no airport suburb, but an old New England community with a long history of manufacturing and industry that preceded the airport's presence. I found myself running through neigborhoods of stately old homes, with many looking quite handsome in the late winter late.

Elm Street sloped gradually downhill, which wasn't surprising, as I was headed for the Connecticut River. Knowing that I would have to regain that altitude, and also that I hadn't been running consistently all winter, I took things extra slowly. So I still felt quite strong by the time I reached my first milestone: Route 159, a north-south byway that served as Main Street. A railroad line parallels it here, and as I approached, a southbound Amtrak "Springfield Shuttle" train bombed through at speed, making for downtown Hartford. Nice!


I passed this building, now a bombed-out shell, on Main Street.

Turning left, I made my way through the most congested part of the route: shopping plazas, busy streets, multiple curbcuts, etc. But still, things were pretty quiet and I had no trouble. And sidewalks continued, even as I left the business district and headed northwest for what would be a looooong stretch on Suffield Street. Residential neighborhoods continued for about a mile, as did the sidewalk, to the point where I was beginning to believe that the entire route would be blessed with sidewalks.

No sooner did I think that then the neighborhoods stopped, as did the sidewalk, and I was quite suddenly pointed into open country, the road continuing ramrod straight through an undulating brown landscape off to a distant horizon. Yes, it was sunny, but the wind was blowing, and clouds were increasing, so it was feeling cold. And with all due respect to the glories of the New England countryside, in mid-March it's at its most barren and foreboding: no critters, tired leafless trees, dead grass, and mud everywhere. But I plodded on, not completely sure that the route I had planned would work out or was even a good idea at that point.

Somewhere in there I crossed the border into Suffield, which seemed to be a town without people. Traffic was scarce. The distance seemed more than it should. I began to wonder. Off to the west, just barren country, with absolutely no sign of the airport or the industrial area that fringed it, or the highway that I would make my way back on. Where was everything? What time was it? Was it getting late? Where was the railroad line that I should have crossed by now? If I did see it, should I turn left on it and use it as a shortcut back to where I started?


After a period of increasing self-doubt and an increasingly sore Achilles tendon in my right leg, I was just about ready to stop at the next house and confirm where the heck I was going before Ichabod Crane started chasing me. Before that happened, however, there it was: the railroad crossing, up ahead. That gave me enough of a boost to discard the railroad return option as unworkable (the trackbed was too rough) and forge ahead with my original plan.

And soon came the big left turn on Austin Street, a short stretch that would take me back west to Highway 75. As I turned onto it, my heart dropped: the road went on forever, and seemingly to nowhere. With no other option, I plodded ahead, grateful at least for the good pavement, the sun, and the sparse traffic. However, as I progressed, I realized what I was seeing was in part an optical illusion. The road was straight, but it also began a steady upgrade to a fairly high point that seemed a lot farther off than it really was. And the high point was none other than a signaled intersection for what had to be the highway I was seeking!

As I approached the highway, the landscape began changing again, with large corporate office complexes nestled among the barren junk forest. Weirdly, many of these were identified as "marketing" companies, although it wasn't clear at all what they could be marketing. I recall one of them actually had a pirate flag out front!

Turning left on the highway, I became alarmed to see not only no sidewalk, but really no breakdown lane nor any other space to run safely. And traffic would come in high-speed bunches released by sets of lights somewhere uproad. So it became this game of using the road as much as possible, and then jumping onto the soggy embankment to let traffic pass.

I soon regained the airport, which was comforting. But the airport is not small, and it took awhile to work my way through the National Guard portion, which included that railroad line I had seen earlier. (It was fenced off and part of a military installation where crossed Route 75, so I'm glad I didn't try to follow it in.)

Alas, I misjudged the remaining distance, which seemed a lot longer than it should have. Plus, with the clouds getting heavier and the wind coming off the open airport grounds, it was now getting seriously cold, and I was also worried about having enough time to get to Syracuse. I was able to keep going, however, and finally came within sight of the McDonalds starting point just as that same Delta MD-88 was taxiing out for take-off, presumably back to Atlanta.

Time? I started at 2:47 p.m. and ended at 4:36 p.m., so that's 1 hour and 49 minutes to run 8.1 miles. Not any kind of a record, but then I didn't expect to set one. It was more than enough for me to say that I've bagged yet another state: Connecticut, No. 11.

Now just 39 to go!

Tuesday, Jan. 29: Adding Florida, or thank God for Merry Weather Avenue

The Embassy Suites hotel and conference center that we called home in Orlando, Fla.

On the final morning of a four-day printing conference in Orlando, I fell out of bed at 4:45 a.m. and logged 7.3 miles on the roads and byways west of the Embassy Suites, where we're staying. It was enough to add Florida to the "Running in All 50 States" list as No. 10, pushing me into digits. I'm one fifth of the way there!

I suppose if you're going to add Florida, then January is the time to do it. New Hampshire had been in the grip of a prolonged spell of sub-zero Arctic weather when we left last Friday. Meanwhile, Orlando has enjoyed daytime highs about 80 and overnight lows in the (gasp) upper 50s!

So on Tuesday, Jan. 29, I ventured into the predawn darkness, but only after two "practice" runs earlier in the conference. The area we're staying is a commercial zone near the airport -- a land of hotels, chain restaurants, warehouses, rental car storage lots, and the occasional gated community. The bad news is that it embodies the worst in disconnected sprawl development. But the good news is that it's all so bright shiny new and filled with coconut and palm trees!

Seriously, while it's nothing like an authentic place ("This is not the retail district," said the clerk at the hotel when I asked about renting a bicycle), it does boast sidewalks (unbroken by frost heaves!) and some really elaborate landscaping. Alas, the sidewalks often wind their way through the elaborate landscaping, zig-zagging back and forth instead of in a straight line, which can be kind of a pain when you're on an extended run.

Still, that's no reason to complain. However, what is a reason to complain is that the sidewalks sometimes just give out altogether, forcing a runner (or walker) onto the road. Apparently it's up to developers to include sidewalks and landscaping, and some properties didn't get them or haven't yet been developed.

Here's the route I scratched out on a piece of hotel stationery, with the help of Google Maps.

Anyway, it was cool and calm when I set out into the pre-dawn void, first circling an Orwellian office development next to our hotel, then heading east on Hazeltine National Drive, which is all office parks, and then north on TCP Drive, which is all warehouses. Up ahead loomed my first big road, Lee Vista Boulevard, and even from a distance I could see I was in for trouble. The road was a wide, four-lane divided highway with a 45 mph speed limit, and busy, even at 5:20 a.m.

Really! I reached it during a lull in traffic and so crossed over to a sidewalk, but after that cars were pretty much constant, as Lee Vista is apparently a major east-west route. This wasn't a problem until the sidewalk ran out. With uneven turf lining the road and it still being dark, I really had no choice to run in a narrow bike lane, with cars and trucks whizzing by at top speed mere inches from my side.

This was not fun.

I began passing gated communities with names like "Crescent Vista Estates," with Semona Boulevard, a big north-south road, with its chain hotels and lit-up restaurant signs looming in the distance. The sidewalk resumed, but now included occasional sprinklers with nozzles pointing over the sidewalk. A ground fog had formed, giving the whole scene a certain Steven King ambiance, with pairs of car headlights tracing beams through the gray gloom.

I lucked out at Semona, crossing the busy street when no vehicles were approaching. But then the run got really interesting, as the road narrowed to a curvy two-lane highway with no sidewalks and no bike lanes, either.

For awhile, I thought I was screwed. It didn't feel safe, and with Lee Vista Road heading into undeveloped country, I didn't expect things to get any better. I was just beginning to formulate 'Plan B' for my run when I noticed that yes, across the road was an actual sidewalk.

The first break in the traffic, I scooted over, got on that, and kept going. Yes, the sidewalk soon disappeared, but there was enough of a shoulder for me to feel comfortable, and I was facing the eastbound traffic, which wasn't nearly so heavy. So my moment of crisis has passed.

Lee Vista Boulevard soon turned into Judge Road, and I stayed with it through open country -- westward, ever westward. To the south, jets were taking off from Orlando Airport, swooping overhead and sounding like a leaf blower and whistling tea kettle at the same time.

Conway Road was my next landmark, and the sidewalks started up again a few hundred yards before I reach it. Traffic on this north-south thoroughfare wasn't nearly so heavy, so I got across and continued west on Judge. For the next quarter-mile, the sidewalk ran alongside a brick wall, which I later found was a gated community, one of several that I would trudge by in this area.

After about a mile of this, I was getting kind of tired of brick walls and big iron gates. Good think I hadn't planned to run on any of the streets inside! I began yearning to see just one driveway or front door or chainlink fence. And then, just in time, I turned onto Merry Weather Drive.

Holy cripe! A perfectly ordinary street -- one lined with modest single-story homes! Through shrouded in pre-dawn darkness, the outlines were plain enough: the garbage cans along the sidewalk, the 'Beware of Dog' signs, the lawn ornaments. It felt like a real place! Even the slightly down market name (Merry Weather instead of the more uppity 'Meriwether' or something like that) felt right, like I was among real people who lived real Florida lives, even though most of them were sleeping just now.

About a half-mile of this was all I needed to feel refreshed. Turning onto Conway Drive to begin the trek back, I reentered the anonymous suburban sprawl. Well, at least Conway had generous sidewalks. In fact, for a short stretch, the sidewalks themselves had sidewalks! Seems like a recent rebuild of the road had included sidewalks, but a section of existing parallel sidewalk had been left in place. This created "express" and "local" sidewalks, something I'd never seen before.

(Sorry, no photos of all this. The hotel was miles away, and with no car and no time later, it wasn't possible to return to the scene of the crime. So here's a photo of coconut trees near the hotel instead.)

So I trudged back along Judge Road, returning to the more familiar sprawl near our hotel. Along the way, I passed the Renaissance Hotel on Semona Boulevard, which I visited the other night because it's the only place around that had a piano on which I could practice. (I was thrilled that any place would have a piano in this area.)

Approaching our hotel, I began to see other folks out for morning runs at more reasonable hours. One looked just like my business partner, so I greeted him a little more heartily (and insultingly!) than he was perhaps expecting. Of course he wasn't my business partner, but why let a little thing like that get in the way of reaching out to a fellow runner on the road?

Upon my return to the lobby, the clock read 6:45 a.m. So 1 hour and 37 minutes to do 7.3 miles. That's 13:12 per mile, which isn't too bad, considering that I haven't been running or doing any kind of exercise recently. And it was enough to add Florida to my list, which puts me at 10 -- double digits, and one-fifth of the way there.

Not sure when and where the next one will be, but stay tuned!

Getting organized for 2013

Okay, a few thoughts about the new year, which is already in progress...

• December 2012 was a fairly quiet month. January 2013 will also be a quiet month if I don't get organized. So get organized.

• One reason December was a wash-out is that I'm having trouble finding time to work out. This has to change.

• For 2013, I need to run more regularly and avoid injury. This means taking time to stretch and warm up. And running regularly with our three dogs to give them the benefit of the activity as well.

• For 2013, it would be nice to get at least 40 new towns added to my "run in every place in New Hampshire" quest, and a total of 12 new states in my "run in all 50 states" quest.

• For biking, I need to come up with some plans to make the most of this. The 100-mile loop around the White Mountains would be doable. Another trip to Harrisville or the beach? To Brattleboro, Vt.?

• I also need to make time to hike to a few more summits so I can complete all 48. I could actually do that this year, if I plan it correctly.

• For now (January, February), I need to make arrangements to spend some time in the gym, when I'm not shoveling snow, which is the best excerise I've gotten lately.

• Speaking of now, we actually have a nice snowpack going this year, so I need to break out the cross-country skis, and also get to a few downhill areas. I'll have to call Peter Noonan and see what he things.

• I think in general, I need to shoot for the goal that I set for myself for my next physical exam, which is in June. Can I do it? I don't see why not, if I can remain focused and not distracted.

Okay, that feels a bit more organized. But it hasn't gotten me outside or more active, so I'll sign off here and make it happen.

All the best and Happy New Year!

Manchester (N.H.) half-marathon round-up: 13.1 miles on Sunday, Nov. 4

Yes, that's me running in front of Manchester's iconic City Hall. All that's missing is a zig-zag black stripe on my shirt to make me a dead ringer for Charlie Brown.

Time for a quick account of the Manchester (N.H.) Marathon before the details as remembered are completely swallowed by the onrush of the holidays and everything else.

My hometown marathon, run this year on Saturday, Nov. 4, was of special interest because it was scheduled for the same day as the New York City Marathon, which was abruptly cancelled thanks to Hurricane Sandy.

So hundreds of NYC Marathon refugees, many of them international runners who'd come a long way for their bite of the Big Apple, came a bit further to the Queen City instead. Organizers were on the ball, too, allowing late registrations and somehow handling it all with nary a hitch.

Race morning dawned clear and cool, with a chilly wind occasionally kicking up out of the northwest. Earlier, it wasn't windy at all at my house, hence my decision to run the half-marathon (13.1 miles), in just shorts and the official Manchester Marathon long-sleeved t-shirt.

My usual "wear a sweatshirt" point is 40 degrees Fahrenheit, and the morning was somewhat above that. But when the wind began gusting downtown, I felt it, especially when out of the sun. Brrrr! Things never truly warmed up, although that wasn't a problem considering how we all were spending the morning.

And I have to say, if you just showed up for this race, you'd get the impression that this was one small city that really had its act together. (Those of us who live around here know better.) The event was well organized, the streets were clean, and the course took runners through some of Manchester's most distinctive cityscapes, parks, and suburban enclaves. A festive air prevailed.

I took it slow -- slow enough for the trailing police cruiser to be burbling along behind me at one point, holding back traffic. Even so, I was surprised when my right Achilles tendon flared up just four miles in. Damn! It gradually worked its way out, however, and by the time we were descending Campbell Street towards Livingston Park, I was back to full form.

The half-mile through Livingston Park was a new part of the course, and it was one of my favorite segments. The place, with its rambling trails and ledgy outcrops, reminds me of the more remote sections of New York City's Central Park, and is a nice break from the street-running that makes up most of the course.

A long stretch on Belmont Street was made bearable by local residents cheering on runners, and then we veered west onto a quiet section of Bridge Street for a loop out underneath Interstate 93 and back.

At about the 10-mile mark, two things happened. 1) My feet really started to feel it, and 2), the marathon runners kept heading east while we half-marathoner cut off to the right, looping over to Hanover Street to head back to downtown and the finish.

The genius of this shortly became apparent when the marathon runners rejoined us on Hanover Street, only they were now at Mile 17, while we were working on Mile 11. The result was that us plodding half-marathoners were now carried up and over the last big hill on Hanover Street by a wave of marathon runners who were keeping much faster paces than we were.

So the half-marathon's last two miles were run concurrently with Mile 17 to Mile 19 of the full marathon, which was a nice way to keep us pushing. The half'ers split off to the left only on Elm Street, right before our finish line, while the 'thoners (is that a word?) peeled off to the left for their final seven miles.

I finished in an elapsed time of 2:32:19, a mile pace of 11:38 -- pretty slow for me. I came in 730 out of 816 finishers, pretty near the back of the pack. Despite this slow pace, I was surprised to find that just three full marathoners completed the course before I finished the half.

Post-race wrap-up: I felt okay that afternoon, but later in the day began feeling the effects of what amounted to serious chafing on the inside of both thighs. Ouch! Must be the shorts I was wearing, as the same thing happened (same shorts) in Chicago last month, even with a generous layer of BodyGlide.

A night of rest and Gold Bond Medicated Powder helped quell that, but Monday morning brought severe cramping in my left foot, to the point where it was hard to walk without hobbling around. Wearing an icepack (attached to my ankle with a rubber band) helped a bit, and later I felt reasonably well.

In an example of extremely poor planning, that Sunday and Monday were the days when we moved my mother from one assisted living home to another. Ouch! I'll try to avoid such a situation in the future.

One bonus of the Manchester City Marathon is that it allowed me to claim my home state of New Hampshire in my quest to run a 10K or better in all 50 states. This brings me to a total of nine, so I'm almost one-fifth of the way there. Baby steps, I know, even when running 13.1 miles.

Another postscript: I just learned from Andy Schachat's running column in the Union Leader that while the number of full marathon runners increased by several hundred this year, the number of half-marathoners went from 815 up to 816 -- an increase of exactly one. I take full credit! Andy did a great job as announcer, by the way. I associate his voice so much with New Hampshire road races that they just don't seem complete without him.

The images in this post, by the way, are courtesy of nuvisionactionimage.com, the marathon's official photography partner. Their Web site allows you to search for images of yourself by bib number, and you can download them for no charge. Nice!

State No. 4: Maryland, June 9, 2012

The hand-drawn not-to-scale semi-accurate route map that I carried with me.

State #4: Maryland

A film screening in Maryland was the excuse for completing State #4 in my evolving "Run a Big Run in All 50 States" quest. And the run, on Saturday, June 9, was a tricky one due to timing and weather.

The set-up: On 3 p.m. that day, the American Film Institute in Silver Spring, Maryland was premiering a new score for 'The Wind' (1928) by Andrew Simpson, a silent film acquaintance of mine. And I was there!

However, The only real window for a long run was mid-day prior to the screening. So I talked the front desk clerk at the local Days Inn to letting me get a room way before the usual 3 p.m. check-in time.

And so, at 12:05 p.m., I stepped out onto the streets of Silver Spring for an eight-mile journey, more or less. I usually try to shoot for some landmark to give these runs a shape and purpose, and also to help me navigate an unfamiliar area. In this case, it was Interstate 495, the "Beltway," the highway that encircles the D.C. area about six miles out.

My aim: to break out and get beyond the beltway!

Unfortunately, it was already about 90 degrees, and heading higher thanks to a blazing sun. With moderate weather at home in New Hampshire, I hadn't yet gotten used to summer heat, but thought I could handle it. On the plus side, there was a breeze, it wasn't too humid, and I had picked a route that offered the prospect of a lot of shade.

So starting from the Days Inn on 13th Street (right on the D.C. border with Maryland), the run was downhill for the first two miles. On Philadelphia, I passed houses with elaborate gardens, and on Maple, large apartment complexes. My first goal: something called the Sligo Creek Trail, which would take me about two miles to reach.

Okay, I thought -- a shaded respite from traffic hassles and other distractions. Well, yes, but after a while that gets boring. It wasn't bad, however, even as the paved foot-and-bike path zigzagged back and forth across the creek, making use of so many bridges that I lost count. (Hmmm, were federal dollars used in building this? Did some bridge money need to get used up?)

After three miles, I reached my first major decision. Bail from the trail at Colesville Road and head back to the hotel? Or keep at it until I hit I-495? My feet were sore (my running shoes are shot), the heat was building, and I didn't know what time it was, but I figured I'd go for I-495, at least to touch it and turn around.

And so I did, and before long I was hearing the rumble of truck engines and the hiss of tires on pavement. But it still took quite awhile before the trail reached the highway, which it passed underneath, coming out into a sunny shadeless field. I made it! Escape from the Beltway!

I decided then that I felt strong enough to keep going rather than turn around, turning left at a hospital and then going west until hitting Route 97, which would take me back to Silver Spring.

And then the shade stopped. And then the hills started. And I started to think I might be in trouble, both from the heat and the time.

It took an awfully long time to hit Route 97 (also called "Georgia Avenue"), and when I did, I found it to be a major commercial artery clogged with traffic at the approaches to its intersection with I-495, which loomed just ahead. With the sun blamming down, I maneuvered my way across four separate busy on-ramps and back under the Beltway, with traffic shimmering in the heat.

After that, I hit a stretch with some gas stations, and so looked for one where I might get some water. The convenience store I picked was air-conditioned (Hallelujah!), and also quite busy, so no one seemed to care when I took a large soda cup and filled it with water from the drink dispenser. I drank it slowly, feeling the heat radiate off me into the cool air, and then filled it again before heading back out in the heat.

I walked some more, finishing the water, and then began running again, not really knowing how far I still had to go and with no idea if I would actually make it to the theater by 3 p.m. Eventually I arrived in downtown Silver Spring (passing right by the AFI theater!), where I clock told me it was only 1:40 p.m. Whew!

By then, my feet felt like someone had been hitting them with a ball peen hammer, so I transitioned back to walk for the remaining half-mile to the Days Inn. Knowing that I'd made it back it time, it actually felt quite exciting to make that last turn onto 13th Street, knowing I'd accomplished what I set out to do.

Time in: 1:54 p.m. So that's 1 hour, 49 minutes to run a total of 8.1 miles, at least according to Google Maps. So four down, and only 46 more to go. Piece of cake, although I'm not sure how many mid-day runs in 90+ degree heat I'll be tackling. :)