Off-season update:Topeka, Kansas

Just got back from a very long run this afternoon in Topeka, Kansas. Just couldn't help it -- the sun is out, the air is mild (about 60 degrees), the ground is dry, and the winds are light. So I went out for what turned out to be the longest run I've done in a long while -- at least in the past year, anyway.

It was 9.2 miles as measured by the rental car, taking 1 hour and 51 minutes. Like all great runs, I was motivated by a simple goal: to "capture" the Kansas State Capitol, about four miles to the west in downtown Topeka. (That's it above, under renovation.) It was ambitious for an off-season run and I wasn't sure I could do it, but I felt good (despite a draining nose and recent lack of sleep) so figured I'd just keep the route simple and see how far I got.

I started out on Fairlawn Road in West Topeka (where I'm staying at a Best Western), a suburban enclave of motels and convenience stores, and started down 6th Street -- or I should say up, because the first stretch slopes up at a surprisingly steep angle, made no easier by the lack of sidewalks. My plan was to stay on 6th Street all the way into downtown, and that's what I did, going up and down rolling slopes, first through residential areas and then past commercial properties.

It's a wide street, with two lanes in each direction, leading me to believe it must have been the main road out of town to the west (towards Salina, Kansas) before Interstate 70 was built just to the north, along the Kansas River. The commercial properties date from its heyday, and now repose in various states of use and neglect.

Up and down I went. Who says Kansas is flat? Not along 6th Street, as I reached major cross streets that told me I was getting closer: Gage, MacVicar, Washburn. I felt good, and was keeping my eye out for the first actual glimpse of the state Capitol's dome, topped by a statue of a Kansa warrior named Ad Astra, and currently augmented by a large construction crane. At one point, Topeka's street grid shifts to the right, and when I reached that point, I knew I was getting closer. Still, hard to see beyond the continuous wall of auto body shops and Mexican restaurants that lined the street.

But then, when the cross streets begin to be named after pre-Civil War presidents (Taylor, Fillmore, etc.) I saw it -- or I saw the crane, at least. Not too far off, actually, but not close either. But for the first time, I felt I just might have a chance at successfully completing this quest.

After getting held up by heavy traffic on Topeka Boulevard, I crossed and entered the downtown area. Even on a nice day, the place was completely deserted: no cars, no trucks, no pedestrians. It looked like a neutron bomb had hit the place! I jogged by the building that houses the Jayhawk Theater, then up 7th Street to Kansas Avenue, the "Main Street" of downtown Topeka. It was so quiet I could have run right up the middle of the street and wouldn't have bothered anyone.

Still feeling strong, I made a right on 9th Street, and there the Capitol was, facing me. I circled around the southern side, "capturing" it by jogging across the lawn and now facing into the sun, which lit up the building behind me like it was about to appear in a Cecil B. Demille epic. And then I started back, knowing the challenge was to keep going but not push too hard so my feet would hold up.

I was on 10th Street heading back, and it was a good choice: mostly commercial, with good sidewalks almost all the way back to Fairlawn. Leaving downtown and heading back west, I found 10th Street to be more institutional than 6th Street: hospitals, churches, the county's modern library, and Topeka's amazing high school, which was build in 1931 but looks like it belongs in an English university town.

The slog began to get to me by the time I hit Gage Road, but I pressed on, determined to make it back to Fairlawn without stopping. Soon the sidewalk gave out and the road narrowed, meaning I must be getting close. Uneven ground near the road forced me out into the flatter part of a gigantic open area, apparently part of a church cemetery, before I finally crested on final rolling hill and saw Fairlawn just below. Nice! I made it.

So pretty amazing that I've got the legs for this length of run at this time of the year. Hope I can keep it up, as it could mean some really good times for races later this year.

Looking forward to May 14, 2016

Well, we continue to enjoy the softest winter in some years. Hardly any snow in our part of the word, and yesterday afternoon it was 50 degrees. Running with the dogs on Feb. 1 in a t-shirt and shorts! Amazing. Note: Yesterday (Feb. 3, 2012) I ran 7 miles with the dogs!

Of course I say "enjoying" knowing that this kind of weather has cut into my opportunities to go downhill skiing this season. I'd like to get at least moderately proficient at it before I get too old to do it at all, and that time is coming...

But the up side is that I've continued to run regularly, which has been good for our dogs as well as for me. It's now February, and with the weather cooperating and with lack of a snowpack, I really haven't stopped running outside this winter. As a result, I feel stronger than ever, and barring any kind of injury, I should enter the 2012 running season in a good position to start finishing races below that 10:00 mile pace that's become my middle-aged baseline.

However, there's one thing new about 2012. I've been checking the Web sites regularly, and out of dozens and dozens on the New Hampshire calendar so far, only a handful are taking place in towns that I haven't yet reached. In past years, by this time I'd have a list of a dozen or more to look forward to, sometimes several on one day to pick from.

But now, after having completed races in 130 of our state's 234 cities, towns, and unincorporated places, the ones left where actual official races take place are becoming few and far in-between.

Well, this had to happen at some point. After all, it's not really reasonable to expect, say, the north country town of Odell (population 0) to hold a 5K anytime soon. And so it looks like the "Running the 234" challenge will be entering a new phase in 2012: one in which I begin to pick up towns where no road race is likely to ever take place, at least in my lifetime.

So, for each of those places, the goal will remain the same: to run at least a 5K within its borders. The only difference now is that it won't be in the form of an official race. And thus I will be able to start adding towns such as Dalton and Windsor to the list of towns completed.

And now that this second phase has started, I have come up with a date by which I want to complete it. The date is Monday, May 14, 2016, when I am exactly 52 years and 121 days old. (I was born on Jan. 14, 1964.) There's a very specific reason for this date, but I am keeping that to myself for now.

And now that I've gotten this far, I have just discovered something that is quite surprising. It seems that I've had my "number of cities, towns, and unincorporated places" wrong all along. It turns out that 234 is the total number of New Hampshire's incorporated cities (13 of those) and towns (they number 221), but that figure does not include the state's unincorporated places, of which there are 25. Ooops! I thought 234 was the total of them all. Learn something new every day.

So what to do? For me, the bottom line is that in completing this challenge, I hope to be able to finally color in every single nook and cranny of my big wall map of New Hampshire. And if I stick with the 234 number, and don't include the 25 unincorporated places (most of which are small slivers of land, but some of which are quite sizeable), then my map won't be colored in.

Well, looks like I just added 25 more locations to run 5K in order to finish this quest. I'm only just now beginning to process what that means, but right now I don't think it will prevent me from completing the quest. So onward we go.

Winter Solstice Update

Never thought I'd find myself out running in a T-shirt and shorts on the first day of winter, but that's exactly what happened! No, I haven't gone nuts, but perhaps Mother Nature has. Yesterday (Thursday, Dec. 21), the temperature in our part of the world was in the low 50s, which is at least 20 degrees higher than what we usually see this time of year. Also, there's no snow on the ground, as we've had above normal temps pretty much constantly since a freak snowstorm dumped about two feet on us two months ago. (It quickly melted afterwards.)

And so, when by now I'd usually be spending time in the gym, I've actually continued to run outside pretty regularly, long after the point where it's impossible or dangerous. As a bonus, it's been mostly with the two youngest of our three dogs, who have a lot of energy to burn. We do a regular route that includes trail running and jumping into a brook (them, not me), so it's quite a good workout for everyone.

This has continued pretty regularly, with varying degrees of energy on my part. With the two dogs, however, it's impossible to push yourself in terms of stride or pacing. Often it's enough just to keep them in formation as you barrel along down the local roads. As a result, I don't pay attention to miles/times, and I'm content to do about an hour when we go out.

So it was quite a surprise yesterday when I took out the older dog (the younger two were in daycare) for a solo spin on the shortest day of the year, and from the start just felt infused with a great deal of energy that didn't seem to want to break or let up. She's older, but still very active, so off we went, on a long run that wound up being about 5 miles in the incredible time of 45 minutes!

I don't know if it was the temperature (cool but not cold), the two cups of coffee I had earlier in the afternoon, the different dog situation, the adrenaline of holiday preparations, the 10 hours of sleep I got two nights ago (a rarity for me) or the fact that I had an entire pint of black raspberry frozen yogurt the night before, but I haven't felt that strong running in a long time.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the accumulated efficiency of regular running lo these many weeks, all through November and December, that finally paid off. Whatever it was, it was simply thrilling to run like that within weeks of my 48th birthday. So I don't care what happens at Christmas: I've already had the gift of a good run!

Looking ahead to 2012, right now races are scheduled in only a handful of New Hampshire places where I haven't run before. Things will fill in more as we get closer to spring, but even so it's getting to be about time when I have to start planning my own 5K runs in communities that aren't likely to hold a race anytime soon—for example, the north country town of Odell, population 0. Otherwise, I'll never finish this crazy quest.

In the meantime, I hope to keep running outside as long as the weather holds. If this keeps up into January, I might be heading into 2012 in the best running shape in years! On the other hand, I might sprain my ankle tomorrow, or fall into the brook with the dogs. Either way, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Saturday, Nov. 26: Rollinsford 5K (#130)

...in which I was injured by a bagel. Read on...

Went out to New Hampshire's eastern limits this morning to run a race in Rollinsford, a town on the state's border with Maine. In fact, the "Tatenda 5K" crossed over into Vacationland and back, making it the only bi-state race so far in the 130 I've completed in my quest.

It's been unseasonably mild for the end of November, so some of us (me included) ran the race in t-shirt and shorts, which is very unusual for this time of year. At left is photo taken at a more verdant time of year. For me, the barrier is usually 40 degrees Fahrenheit -- anything below that, I need pants, a sweatshirt, etc. I brought all the cold weather gear with me on the hour-long drive, but at race time (9 a.m.), the temperature was already in the mid-40s, on its way to the upper 50s. So bare skin prevailed.

Rollinsford (population 2,500) is a town I know nothing about except I have a cousin who lives there. (Hi John Fortier!). The town is centered on Salmon Falls Village, which itself is clustered around a large brick former textile mill complex on the Salmon River. As in every other old New Hampshire milltown, textiles are long gone, but Rollinsford doesn't seem too be doing too badly. The sprawling complex of what used to be the Salmon Falls Manufacturing Co. has been renovated into space for artist studios and chai cafes and many other small businesses. The town, as well as South Berwick, Maine across the river, has a kind of hippie flair to it, with organic cafes and coffeehouses and funky small restaurants everywhere.

An unusual feature is that the main railroad line connecting Boston to Portland, Maine runs right through town, crossing the Salmon River on a very high bridge, at least from the perspective of the mill below the falls. As I was warming up, I heard the tell-tale honk of an Amtrak Downeaster passenger train from afar, and was surprised to see it suddenly shoot over the bridge way above us at a fairly fast clip.

Speaking of which, I was hoping to run at a fairly fast clip as well, as the course was promoted as "flat." All I can say is, whoever decided that must have been raised halfway up the Mount Washington Auto Road. The course, which makes a zig-zaggy loop from Rollinsford into South Berwick, Maine and then back, was full of ups and downs. That, coupled with a persistent minor cold and a lousy night's sleep, prevented me from breaking the 30 minute barrier, though most other conditions were favorable -- I've been running regularly, the temperatures were cool, and I felt pretty strong.

The finish was tough because you come back into the millyard and there's a long straight stretch to the finish line way in the distance. I could see the clock said "29:something" but couldn't tell the seconds. As I got closer, it was in the 40s, but I kept pushing even though it appeared I would slide past 30 minutes. The official time: 30:14, finishing 24 out of 45 participants.

Two unusual things. At the start, announcer Andy Schachat handed over the mike to an organizer to say a few words, and she concluded her remarks by unexpectedly saying "Go!" Half the field immediately took off, but Schachat called everyone back to try again after the National Anthem. Also, after running a total of 130 races, this was the very first time that I suffered a treatable injury. It happened not during the race, but after, while slicing a bagel, when the plastic serrated knife went through the bagel and fairly deep into the tip of my right index finger. Sheesh! Injured by a bagel. Many thanks to the women of the White Heron Tea Co. (Motto: Good Tea for Good People), who allowed use of their first aid kit for me to patch myself up.

Entry fee: $25, not outrageous, and all proceeds support Tatenda International. And what the heck is that? It's an international service group that supports "efforts of established relief organizations via retreats, resources and youth development." The word 'Tatenda' means “thank you” in the Shona language of Zimbabwe. For more information about the program, check out the group's Web site.

So a big Tatenda to all who made this race happen. It's likely the last new city, town or unincorporated place in New Hampshire that I'll race in this year, and was a memorable finale. So we end 2011 with a total of 130, meaning there's just 104 to go.

Some goals for 2012

We're not done with 2011 quite yet, but I thought it would be a good idea to set out some fitness adventure goals for 2012 now. Why? Because we're getting close to when winter hits around here (meaning snow on the ground that stays, and little daylight), and so it's important to stay motivated, get out when I can, get back in the gym regularly, and so on.

So!

Here are a few adventures I hope to accomplish in 2012:

WINTER
• Do one "ski area" mountain road race
• Go downhill skiing at least three times
• Start swimming with goal of competing in triathalon in 2012

SPRING
• Do one Half Marathon
• Bike from York, Maine to Bedford, N.H. Before they take out Memorial Bridge...

SUMMER
• Complete the 48 N.H. 4,000-footers. Zahnna has 18 to go...
• Bike the Kanc (out and back) before it gets hot
• Run in the Mt. Washington Auto Road race. Lottery is in February/March...
• Join in the Winnipesaukee Relay Race in September. Pick up rare towns...

FALL
• Half Marathon in Dixville Notch
• New Hampshire Half Marathon. Route includes three rare towns...
• Manchester (N.H.) Half Marathon.

Winding down for the winter

Well, time to update things. I've been going through a cycle where weekends have been burdened with commitments that have prevented me from getting out to any of the few remaining races this season. I missed the "Ghost Train" race on an abandoned railbed in Brookline, N.H., and also the Manchester Marathon (half marathon for me) last weekend, and this weekend I'll be out of town for an odd annual race in Grantham. (Next year for sure!)

But I'm still running -- more than usual, in fact. Lately, as the days have been growing shorter, I've been fitting in hour-long runs with two of our dogs through the streets and woods of Bedford, N.H., our hometown. We have a heckuva time, first running fairly aggressively on trails through a nearby patch of woods, and then, when the initial excitement dies down, in formation along the sides of roads. Abby and Inca have turned into a good and responsive team, at least after they've calmed down a bit.

Partly, these runs are self-preservation. If the dogs didn't get the exercise, they'd go crazy. (Come to think of it, so would I.) But it's also a reflexive response, I think, to the shortening days at this time of year, and the desire to get in as much outdoor activity before the weather really turns and you have to start thinking of what to wear to not freeze to death or be hit by a car when the roads are narrowed and lined by snowbanks.

So as we enter the home stretch of 2011, I feel I'm in pretty good shape overall. Started by bagging Antrim as Town #113 this past April, and got as far as Lempster as Town #129 last month, passing the half-way point (to #234) along the way somewhere. I may still be able to notch a coupla three races around Thanksgiving, although one of them involves a slog all the way up to Whitefield, N.H., something like two hours one-way. We'll see.

And before you know it, we'll be planning out races for 2012. There's still a sizable number of towns with races that I haven't yet run, but we're getting to the point where I'm going to have to start doing "freelance" races (making them up myself) in some towns to keep the momentum going. After, all it's not likely that the town of Odell (population: 0) is about to hold a 5K anytime soon.

Geez, though. More than half-way there. I might actually finish this quest one of these days...

Oct. 8: Lempster (#129) 5K, but just barely

I sometimes cut it close getting out to races, but today was the closest shave yet.

The "Windmill 5K," set for 11 a.m. in Lempster, was originally set to take place on a service road among 12 enormous wind turbines that were erected on a ridgetop in town in 2008. By enormous, I mean the towers are 250 feet high and the blades are 139 feet long, meaning each windmill stands nearly 400 feet high.

It's New Hampshire's first commercial wind farm, and the huge white windmills, visible for miles around, make for quite a sight as the blades pinwheel around. So the chance to run a race on the facility's service road was too good to pass up.

Alas, safety concerns prevented use of the service road, so organizers relocated to roads around the Goshen-Lempster School, whose parent-teacher group staged the race. Either way, I needed Lempster, so off I went, taking our smallest dog, one-year-old Inca, along for the ride and possibly the run.

Lempster is one of those hill towns in southwestern New Hampshire that started small and stayed that way. No railroad ever came to town, so there was never any commercial center or "downtown." It was just upland farms and such, with a few gravel pits for good measure; when I worked for the Eagle-Times in Claremont, I got to do a few stories from Lempster because the town was on the fringe of the paper's coverage area. Until the establishment of the wind farm, the town's most noteworthy distinction was an inn that boasted an unusual three-story outhouse. (Alas, it's now gone.)

It's about 90-minute drive to Lempster from where I live, and I pulled into town via Route 31 (great views of the wind farm from the east) at about 10:45 a.m. -- plenty of time for me! I thought I knew where the school was so drove south on Route 10 (the main drag) until I thought I'd missed it, so turned around and headed back north. I went up "Ball Park Road," thinking that might be where the school was, but nope. Crossing into Goshen but seeing no school, I kept going, thinking perhaps I'd misread my map.

With minutes ticking away, I drove all the way to Goshen's border with Newport, the next town up, thinking by then it was unlikely I'd find the school in time to run the race. Rats! I turned around, headed south again, but just to head home on a different route. After driving a few minutes, I passed where I'd first turned around, and just beyond that -- sure enough, one of those "Kid and Parent" signs that means "SCHOOL AHEAD" I looked at my dashboard clock just in time to see it change to 11:00 a.m.

And there, on my left, was the race! Everyone was lined up, a police escort was on hand, and a woman was giving instructions to the runners. So I pulled over, hopped out, and asked if I could join in and register afterwards. (So much for warming up or stretching!) Told yes, I confirmed with the cop it was okay to leave my car there (unlocked, with wallet and keys and phone -- this was Lempster, N.H.) and then, seeing no problem with taking the dog, got Inca out and on her leash.

The race started right then, and off we went, down a dirt road, running past the school and up the hill below the wind farm, which loomed over us. Inca was thrilled to suddenly be running with all these people (she probably thinks this is what I do every day when I leave the house in the morning) and pulled me right along, adding to the absurdity of it all.

The course was a hilly one, and the day was sunny and already unseasonably warm, so it was sweat city as we went up and down the back roads, at one point circling a pond and encountering an older black Lab, who followed us for awhile before peeling off. At the turn-around point (on a non-maintained "Class VI" road), I was surprised to be told I was in 9th place overall, but that changed quickly when we encountered a loose and very playful puppy. No one know whom he belonged to (though he had tags and a collar), and he was causing disruption with the runners, who at that point were coming in both directions.

He was a real distraction for Inca, and there seemed to be every chance that he'd follow us for the rest of the race, so I stopped and made it my business to get the dog so a kid could hold onto him until we could get away. Except the dog had other ideas -- he was in play mode, and the best game of all was apparently "Keep Away from the Human in the Orange Shirt."

After a few minutes of this (and being passed by a dozen people), I gave up, and Inca and I continued on. Yes, he followed us until he spotted another dog coming in the other direction (with a walker), and then went back in the direction of where we first encountered him.

But my troubles weren't over! After sprinting down the long hill (not easy on a dirt road full of rocks), Inca and I made a right into the school parking lot to finish. However, a sign said you had to go "around the school" first. Or at least I thought it said this, because what you really had to do was just go around a little loop in front and finish. Instead, Inca and I went all the way around the school, a considerably longer distance, before coming around to the finish chute.

People saw this, but no one said anything because I wasn't wearing a number, and a woman said they just assumed I was out for a run on my own. (This in a town where everyone knows everyone else on a first-name basis?) In coming down the chute, my numberless status prompted a brief cross-examination. Turned out I couldn't be included after all, but I paid the $20 fee just the same. My time was officially something like 35 minutes, but that included time messing with the dog plus the extra distance around the school, so I didn't really take it too seriously. Even so, I just looked at the results, and that placed me 16th out of 32, which isn't too shabby.

Thanks for holding the race, Lempster, and for letting me just show up like that and run it.