Category Archives: Running

Wild Leeks

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Not far from our house there is a spot where the wild leeks grow like gangbusters.  This time of year they fill the woods, not only with their bright green leaves but with their fragrance.  Running past I can smell the odor of onions.

Yesterday I ran past and, inhaling one of the sweet smells of spring, said aloud, “Look at all that food.”  The green stretched across the floor of the woods as far as I could see.  It really was a lot of food, and almost no one would eat it.

I thought about this as I ran.  I also thought about the bash we would be hosting later in the day.  Then the two thoughts merged.  I was planning to make potato salad once I got back.  The recipe I had found called for onions and garlic.  The merged thought consisted of substituting some wild leeks for that onion and garlic.

And so on the way back past that spot in the woods I veered into the trees.  I brushed away the dry leaves, dug my bare fingers into the cold earth, and dug up some food.  They are small, not at all the supermarket version of leeks.  They are more the size of scallions.  I carried them lightly in my left hand as I ran slowly home.

The potato salad came out great.  It was one element of a fine pot luck dinner.  The problem, as I discovered/realized when evening came and we got to the business of cleaning up the final bits, was that it never got put out.  We simply forgot about it.  It sits in the fridge still, waiting for a diner.  I was going to have it for lunch but we still had some guests who spent the night.  I forgot again.

I need to head back over to the leek patch before long to harvest some more of the tasty little plants.  Spring doesn’t last long and soon they will be swallowed by the rest of the undergrowth.  They aren’t as tasty later in the spring or in the summer.

I will grow my own leeks in the summer but they don’t offer quite the same feeling as picking food straight from the woods.  Of course, that doesn’t matter much if I leave whatever I make sitting around uneaten, now does it?

Crocuses, a Camera and Late Driving

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I managed to fit in a run today in the middle of the day.  I was working from home but I had worked a 12-hour day yesterday and I figured it was cool to take a couple hours to play.  I ran eleven miles, which I haven’t done in several weeks.  I was tuckered by the time I got back.  I did manage, however, to have a productive work day.

I was overdressed, of course.  It is easy to be so this time of year.  The temperature was 48 degrees and it was windy.  Tights?  A windbreaker?  Could I get away with shorts?  I ended up with tights and a windbreaker, just to be safe.  I had to shed around mile three.  Putting in writing that I wore tights sounds a little foofy.  Tights?  I think of silky dresses when I hear see the word tights.  It is one thing to say it alound but it looks, well, too dainty or something.  But whatever, I wore tights.  Black ones.

I saw flowers.  I had seen coltsfoot recently.  That is the always the first flower of spring.  I saw that in a number of places today.  In some spots it was clustered.  But then I saw crocuses.  Our crocuses are green, but hardly out of the ground.  These were on a hill, in the sun, by the road, and showing off.  At one point I smelled some kind of sweet flowery smell.  It smelled like lilacs but it couldn’t have been lilacs.  It is way too early.  But then, I thought it was early for crocuses.

Once again I wished I had a camera with me.  I have been pondering a new digital point and shoot for a while now.  If I had had a camera with me today I would have captured some of the early spring blooms.  I have been thinking about one of those Olympus jobbers that are waterproof and shockproof.  That is the kind of camera that would do well on a long run.  And wouldn’t it make this blog better, if it were easy to post pics?

In a little while I need to take off.  A friend is coming to visit for a few days.  His flight, like pretty much all flights to Burlington International Airport, comes in about 10:00 PM.  Not many flights arrive at that airport at, say, 4:00 or 5:00.  They arrive at 10:00 or 11:00.  If they are on time.  He called when he stopped for a connection.  It looks like he will be on time.

I will make a stop at the supermarket on the way.  You know, pick up some bread and beer and butter.  B things.  Maybe I will get some beans while I’m at it.  And maybe some ice cream, a flavor that starts with…

Criminy, I’m going to be up too late, and I’m getting loopy already.  Who’s idea was it to run far and work hard and stay up late all in the same day?  It will be chilly by the time I get out of here.  But I won’t be wearing any tights.  Unless I can find that dress with the crocuses on it.  If I do, I’ll make sure to take a picture and post it here next time.  But I’ll probably just go with jeans.

Up and Out in the Morning

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This has been a bad week for running.  I have not gotten motivated enough to give up sleep and make it happen in the morning.  And I have been home too late in the evening to really make a go of it.  Too many things to balance.  We a had a friend visiting for three nights and, of course, we stayed up late to hang.  He did come all the way from California.  This morning, however, I finally rallied for a morning run.

It wasn’t long.  I had to get back so I could get myself and the kids ready for the day.  But it was fine.  I left when it was light enough to see (no headlamp required) but the sun had not yet risen.  It was the perfect morning, although it was cold (26 degrees when I left the house).  I had no regrets about losing a little sleep.

There is a time when the world feels perfectly at peace.  The light creeps over the hills but the sun will not appear for a bit.  The eastern sky is pink or golden.  The blackbirds are beginning to chirp their chorus.  The frost glows.  The air is still.  No one else seems to be stirring.  The river shushes smoothly under the bridge.  It is quiet except for the waking birds and the sound of my feet.

That is the morning I had.  The mud was mostly frozen, so it was easy to navigate the rutted road–no sinking into the mire.  I crunched along past the fields, through the woods, onto the open road and over the hill to see the sun toss its head over the mountains.  And then the world was bright.  I felt the warm spring angle of that sun immediately, my layers instantly too much.  As I trotted north, the light flashed through the bare trees like the light from an old reel projector.

So maybe it wasn’t a bad week for running.  I haven’t gotten in many miles but this morning sure did feel like it made up for it.  It was peaceful.  It was beautiful.  I felt great.  I came home feeling calm and ready for what might come.  As I turned from the road onto our long driveway, I felt  happy to be alive, that this day was a gift.  I felt as though I was starting, right that moment, with days and days of living to come.  And hopefully, I am.

If I do not have those days and days left before I reach the great whatever it is that comes after this life, it will not have been a bad day to end on.  I hope, however, to have many more mornings like this one.

Moisture in Multiple Forms

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It is raining.  Not a warm spring rain, but a cold rain.  It is damp.  Chilly.  It is getting dark.  We have a fire in the stove.  Our house is cozy.

The ground is saturated.  The streams and gullies are full.  The lawn has pools.  The children have fun jumping in the drainage ditch next to the driveway.  It is wet.

Yesterday it snowed.  We woke to white, on the ground and falling.  It came down heavily for a while.  By afternoon it had melted.  We got mud.  The roads were wet when I ran.  Soggy.  I got dirty from splashing muck.

A few days ago we had fog.  Rain, snow, mud, fog.  Things are wet all over.  The ground has thawed out for the most part.  It won’t be long before things start to dry, but today we have moisture.

It’s Sog City.  I am glad to be inside.  It will feel good to crawl into bed tonight.  I might just do it earlier than usual.  Read a good book and conk out.  That way I can get up early and run.  Or not.  If it is still raining, I just might stay under the covers, safe from all the water beasts.

Hypocrite

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The last day of the conference I attended in New Hampshire was yesterday.  My roommate–let’s call him Bob–and I had a morning run together, a short and slow four miles, then we each packed up to leave later in the day.  By the time I got down to where things were happening, I had missed the “coffee and snacks” listed on the agenda.  I was hoping to grab something (anything after a run, even a short run, to refuel) and then head one level down to the meeting I was going to attend.  The only thing still out was the coffee and tea.

So far I had been using the dinky little cups with saucers to drink coffee.  They would always put out foam cups and lids along with these ceramic cups but I boycotted them, even though almost everyone else used the disposable vessels.  I just couldn’t do it.  The one-use cups are too much to bear at times–use it and toss it.  Stupid.  But yesterday morning I wanted more than the meager amount that would fill the mini washable jobber.  I would not be able to refill for the hour plus meeting.  So I hesitated, bit my pride, and filled a wasteful foam cup.

Back up to morning one of three.  Bob and I had a conversation about one-use beverage containers, including bottled water and coffee mugs.  That first breakfast he took the initiative to bring a pitcher of water to the table, rather than use the plentiful bottled water available.  This was a gesture aimed largely at me, and served to send an unspoken message to others at the table as well.  I was happy to see it.  No bottle water, no paper cups.  We were on the same page.

Jump back to morning three, as I grudgingly fill the tossable cup, all too aware that my stainless steel travel mug is sitting on top of my packed bag, ready for the trip home, but too far to retrieve in my haste to get to the meeting for which I was already late.  Hot coffee pours from the spout into that evil container and this comment floats down into the steaming brown liquid:  “Paper cup, huh?”

It was Bob, of course.  He then fills his own re-usable travel mug with coffee.  He did not need to say more.  I was busted.  I was, and am, a hypocrite.  I make decisions like everyone else, and sometimes I make poor ones.  That was a poor one.  Perhaps my brain was addled from too little food.  Perhaps a sense of laziness, or even urgency, came over me at that moment.  Perhaps I needed to decide too quickly.  In any case, my principles lost out.

In far too short a time, I tossed that cup.  The lid cracked within a half hour.  I ended up using my travel mug after all, sipping through the next event and again on my way home, as I mulled how I can make a difference in the world.  It was a good lesson for me.  Laziness is not an option if I want to live by what I believe.  It is easy to be lazy.  Our culture is one of ease, or leisure.  We are not ones to give up a cup of coffee because we forgot to bring a mug.  Bringing a mug, or a cloth grocery bag, or a water bottle, are easy to forget;  and if we do forget, it is easy to find a disposable alternative.

We are a throwaway society.  I am not proud of that, but I am a part of that.  If I want, I can work to change that of which I am a part.  That is not easy, and it may mean I sometimes give up that cup of coffee, but it is the right thing to do.  I will be a hypocrite again.  I will forget my travel mug or my bags or my water bottle.  But getting busted has its benefits.  It highlights my hypocrisy, and it helps me to keep trying.  From now on, most of the time at least, I will turn down the foam cup.  If it means I can avoid using a cup once and then tossing it, I can get by waiting a little while for my jolt of joe.

Too Much Sugar

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Crowd at the Shelburne Farms Sugar House

Crowd at the Shelburne Farms Sugar House

The first dose of sugar at least came from natural sources. We visited Shelburne Farms for their pancake breakfast, complete with real maple syrup. The cakes were complemented by juice and then hot chocolate. It was a great breakfast, a fundraiser for 4H. But sweet for the children.

We visited the sugar house, watched them boiling down the sap into syrup. Of course, they handed out free samples, small for an adult but large for the tykes. In the sugarush they had hidden small wooden disks, sliced from small maples. Those could be handed in for hard maple candies, one for one. So the children each had one of those.

My parents, visiting for the weekend, wanted to puchase some maple syrup, so we stopped at Palmer’s Sugarhouse, a little closer to home. We watched them boiling as well and got, again, free samples. These samples were much more generous. And my wife also bought some cotton candy and–how could she not?–shared that with her progeny.

Back at home we had lunch. That was a little healthier. Even the afternoon snacks were decent. The problem came later. My children, with their cute wiles, convinced my parents to take us all to Friendly’s for dinner. Friendly’s is fun but doesn’t exactly serve health food, if you know what I mean. After a dinner a little too concentrated in the fried genre, we had ice cream sundaes. The sundaes were part of the point of dining at this particular establishment so they were not to be denied, but whew, it was good that have that over.

Too much sugar today. Normally I would not allow all that crap to enter the system of my small and precious youngsters, at least not all in one day, but it seemed a tricky one to navigate, what with the pre-planned pancake breakfast and the grandparents and Friendly’s. It is only one day, however. Tomorrow we get back to cracking down. Apples and yogurt will rule over treats.

It was a fun day. The children settled down and fell asleep without too much trouble. We had a fine hike while we were at Shelburne Farms and they ran around a lot today. It was pretty much perfect–sunny and in the 60’s. So hopefully they managed to work the sweet out of their little systems. Maybe it evened out. I ran eight miles this afternoon, so I’m not worried about myself too much. Except that I need a haircut something fierce, but that is off the topic.

All in all we enjoyed our maple sugaring open house day, even if it meant too many sweets. What’s one day? It is a good thing sugaring season only lasts a short time. And that the kids get sick of pancakes. Plus, I won’t have the clean the griddle tomorrow morning. That will give me more time to run off the ice cream I ate with dinner.

Waiting for Spring

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Today I ran and it was cold.  Yesterday I had a wintry run as well–it was blowing like stink and snowing like stink and I could hardly see where I was going.  Today was colder and windier but without the snow.  The ground was frozen.  It was basically winter.  Mark Breen, the meteorologist on Vermont Public Radio, offered today that Vermont had, with the exception of extreme northeast Alaska, the coldest weather in the United States.  Something to be proud of?

The problem with running in weather like today’s is one of temperature regulation.  Out in the open, the north wind was bearing down hard, and my wind layers separated me from frostbitten extremities.  Once I got into the shelter of a hill, with the sun shining, I started sweating down the back of my neck–too hot.  I ran an out-and-back and when I turned around at the halfway point, I headed directly into the north wind that had so helpfully been pushing me onward.  It bit.

So I sweated and froze, alternately.  On average I was just about right.  Yesterday the snow stung my cheeks and slicked up the frozen just-the-day-before-muddy road.  It was treacherous, or at least it felt so.  It was less dangerous than it may have appeared, considering I was never really more than a few miles from home.  It sure didn’t feel like spring.

I won’t run tomorrow but will lace on the shoes again Wednesday or Thursday, my schedule permitting.  Wednesday promises temperatures in the fifties–T-shirt weather for this time of year.  Of course, in September, 50 degrees will feel like the ice age has returned, but in spring, bust out the flip flops.  So I wait for spring.  Running is just so much easier when the weather is warm.  I have to wear fewer layers, I can leave the gloves at home, and I just feel looser.

If I want to make any kind of mileage goals I need to run when it is cold.  I live in Vermont.  I briefly considered applying for a job in California recently, but only briefly.  Apparently one can run in shorts year-round in the climes I was considering.  That might be nice, but I have to admit, running when the snow blows so hard I can’t see is kind of invigorating.  It is easier to run when it is warm, but it feels awfully nice to run in warm weather after running in cold weather.  I would miss getting pelted in the face by tiny beads of ice.  I am not sure, but I might even be proud of that.

Signs of Spring

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1. Redwinged blackbirds are back in force, causing a ruckus down by the river.

2. Geese are flying overhead, retracing the routes they followed a few months ago.  They settle in fields and on the water, honking away.

3. Vultures are back as well, soaring high overheard in their slient graceful circles.

4. Killdeer fly low over the frozen meadows, whistling out their songs to each other.

5. Runners have come out of the woodwork.  How can there be so many?  Saturday morning at 7:00 I saw scores of them.  Where were they when I was plodding out the miles in January?

6. Teenagers, who already shun outerwear even on the coldest days, are baring arms and legs.  It’s 45 degrees!  Bust out the flip flops!

7. It is muddy.  The children love it.  They stomp in it, scoop it, splash it about.  They squish and shape and mold it.  Some roads are treacherous with the slip and slide.

8. We set the table (well, the small one from the porch) out on the hard lawn and had dinner outside for the first time this year.  That was all my daughter’s idea.  Then, in the night, the wind blew over the chairs we forgot to put away.  Wind, too, is a sign of spring.

9. The long days make for more play time for all of us.  Daylight savings, that ridiculous habit, means the children fall asleep too late and can’t wake up in the morning.

10. I am starting to itch for summer.  Where did I leave my sandals?

Not So Selfish

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I watched our neighbor this morning drive along the road and pick up all the cans and bottles that my children and I gathered and placed by the roadside yesterday.  I had mixed feelings about this:

1. I was excited that someone else would take the time to clean up.  We were planning to head out shortly to pick all of those up.  The children, in fact, were looking forward to it.  But someone else beat us to that.  I don’t know if they were happy we had gotten things started, or upset that we had dug the ugliness from hiding under the winter’s layers.  I hope the former.

2. I was disappointed because the children really were excited to follow up on our previous day’s project.  When I told them what was happening, and they looked out the window to see for themselves, they were disappointed as well.  But I told them we could head up the road in the other direction and they got fired up again.

Today’s haul was a lot bigger.  We walked a lot farther, for one, but there were just a lot more items to collect.  We could not carry them all there were so many, so we left another batch to be picked up by someone.  My wife walked the kids up the road while I went for a run.  I met them on my way back and she ran herself.  I carried most of the load for most of the way.  The children wanted to carry everything they collected–they each had a bag–but the bags got too heavy for the longish walk.

We picked up three dozen beverage containers and left about ten to collect later.  Over 50 empty containers.  That is just way too many.  That was in a not-quite-a-mile stretch of road.  The nutty thing is how many I saw while I was running, farther up the road–at least as many.  The idea of that many containers getting tossed makes me squinch up my forehead.

I have tossed empties out the window myself.  I am not proud to admit that.  It happened only once, when I was a teenager.  There were a few of us in a Chevy Suburban drinking beer in the back on a long drive.  The driver was clean and we were being responsible–just a couple apiece over a couple of hours.  But we were underage.  We were afraid we would get pulled over by the police for some reason, I don’t remember why, so we tossed the “evidence” to the roadside.

The thing is, that memory still haunts me.  It wasn’t my idea and I was not the one to do the tossing, but i rue my abetting that act.  I don’t even have the consolation that we were pulled over.  I try to make it up now.  I imagine who tossed these glass bottles and aluminum cans and create my own stories.  I am proud that my children are so excited to clean things up.  They do not creat such stories.  They trust my answer to their question of who would toss their trash out the window.  Sometimes it is a mistake, I tell them, and sometimes people do things we would not do ourselves.  They have entered the world of trying to understand the array of human motivations.

I can’t imagine they will ever solve that mystery.  No one ever has.  But I hope they pursue it their whole lives.  It is a mystery that offers many questions worth asking.  Those questions make the mystery worthwhile.  As a parent, I will do what I can to engage them in the mysteries of the world.  I hope all of them are not as dirty as this on

Freezing My…

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Ran this morning, first thing. It was cold–14 degrees. That isn’t too bad but it was way windy. I ran up Carpenter Road but turned around after a mile and a half. I was afraid of getting frostbite on my face. It was a crosswind, so either direction I was getting it.

Then I took a turn to try a different route. I figured it would be in the trees. I had a tailwind for a bit, over the river and into the woods. I didn’t even get close to Grandma’s house, however. When I got to the class IV part of the road, I was walking like an elderly grandmother. It was so icy that I could hardly walk at all. At the rise, where I could see down the road a ways, I could see that the skating rink kept going. I bagged.

It was warm yesterday, in the 40’s. Things melted. Then it got cold. Things froze. It made for great skating, but I was running. I did not get as far as I wanted, but so it goes. I went home and stirred the fire in the wood stove. And I had coffee. I warmed up soon enough.

Went into Burlington today for the Mardi Gras parade. We were concerned about finding a place to park, so we drove part way to take the bus. The bus was late. We stood around in the icy wind, the family and I. We got chilled. The bus was full, which I thought was a good plug for public transportation. If it was more reliable and stopped closer to home I might use it more.

Not as Warm as New Orleans

Not as Warm as New Orleans

Waiting for the parade to start, and walking down the street, we got chilly. The kids have less mass that the adults they live with, so they got colder faster. They forgot about the cold when the crazy floats started passing and the people in zany costumes started throwing bead necklaces and moon pies. But once the noise and commotion passed us by, we split. We warmed up in the mall for ten minutes while watching for anyone we knew or didn’t.

The children did not play outside much today, but at least we got plenty of fresh air. And we got to take a bus ride. That was a highlight for them. The temperature did not rise above 20 degrees here at the house. The bank thermometer in Burlington read 24 degrees when we passed it. That was such crap. I know it was windy but 24? No way.

Now we have way too many bead necklaces, more plastic crap that we don’t need that will outlive all of us. Tomorrow I need to try again for a morning run. The bummer is that is forecast to be even colder tonight than last night–a low of 5. We hope to go skiing tomorrow as well. Maybe the afternoon will be our time to play. I don’t want to freeze any parts of me.