I Can’t Drive 55

My medal and the blue hair band I
found during the race.

How fast was I in the Bishop Hill Swedish Stomp 5K today? So fast that I nearly won a speeding ticket to go with my first-place gold medal. 

Yeah, you read that correctly: I placed first in my age division, Men’s 45-49 I think; and I wasn’t the only one in my division this time. It was a small field overall and the weather may have played a role in keeping runners away today – it was chilly! And that wind was a bite. I had to chuckle afterward at the notion we’d have a tailwind coming up that final hill into town toward the finish – as promised by the event emcee. The tailwind, such as it was, came into play only on the final northerly downhill of the race. It was nice, but it didn’t help much.

Still, it was a nice run, even if I misrepresented it to my friend Ellen, who decided to run it, too. The description mentions only the streets of historic Bishop Hill. I assumed – incorrectly – that the route would wend through town, criss-crossing the handful of streets until nearly every one had been trod and 3.1 miles was finally racked up.

Um, not so. The route, starting from the old Colony School, first heads east, then circles Bishop Hill Park before heading out into the countryside. Still a lovely run it is, but I wasn’t banking on those hills, slight though the grades may be. Neither was Ellen expecting it. “I thought you said it was flat,” she accused.

So sue me.

Ellen was further disgruntled with her showing (I won’t reveal her time, as she was not happy), despite placing first in the Women’s 45-49 division against more competition than I faced.

“That little wiener dog passed me!” she cried afterward. “I got beat by a wiener dog.”

Her disappointment is understandable. Wiener dogs have shooort legs. Even Ellen has longer legs than a dachshund. Still, the wiener dog has four of ’em and nobody carried Ellen for any part of the race.

The Galesburg Stompers: Rob, Heather, Ellen, Holly.

We were joined by several other Galesburg folks we knew. All did well. Heather H. placed second in her division behind friend Holly A. We got a nice group shot after, taken by my No. 3 daughter (tied for No. 1 in my heart, of course). Several of her friends were in attendance, though they ran and D3 couldn’t be cajoled into it. She did her stint in track and cross country and did well, but she favors other athletic pursuits now. She’s a heck of a cheerleader, too!

For my accounting, I finished in 30:25. Not my fastest time, nor my slowest. Among the factors pro and con: Anne G., who is an acquaintance and friend of a friend, served unwittingly as my pacer. I told her afterward, “Anne, you were my ponytail.” She might have blushed; or maybe it was wind-rash. Anne pulled away in the last mile, though, and I found myself running neck and neck with one of D3’s friends. She was kickin’ it pretty good, but we were both getting worn.

When she stopped, I stopped to offer support and assistance, but she waved me off: “Keep going,” she demanded. So I did. Holly would have nothing of it and stopped to lend aid until other help arrived. And she still finished first. Way to go, Holly!

The Swedish Stomp is a pretty fun race. Good company, beautiful scenery, historic community, spiffy T-shirt, yummy treats after the run (including pickled herring and knackebrod!). It all adds up to a great experience.

However, I need to learn to ramp it down after the race. I’ve touted the joys of the runner’s high before, and it really is a great feeling. But ya gotta keep it under control. Driving back to the Burg along U.S. 34 I developed a bit of a lead foot. I saw the white cruiser gaining on me in the rearview mirror and knew immediately who it was – low-profile light bar or no. I slowed. By the time he was on my tail, I was doing 53. No use. He was gaining rapidly and I teased myself briefly that he was going to pass and catch a real criminal. Alas, the lights activated and I found myself on the shoulder, window down, waiting for Trooper Friendly to ask for my credentials. 

Tried to capture the 64 but it was getting dangerous.

He was indeed friendly and let me off with just a warning. “You were going way too fast,” noted. “Slow it down.” Yeah, I suppose 64 in a 55 is a bit over. Lucky for me he didn't see me five minutes earlier.

But to add insult to the non-injury (my wallet sincerely thanks you, Trooper Friendly) he instructed me to roll up my window a tad. Producing a groovy black plastic box with a slot in one end and a digital readout, he proceeded to measure the tint of my window. It has to come off, he told me. Apparently it needs to read 35 and mine were 33. Mumbo jumbo, but yessir. 

He did ask about the race, after the rigmarole, not as a smart-alec introduction to a speeding ticket. But it was indeed the classic wording (if in past tense): “Where was the race?”

Today's Stats

Temp: 55 degrees F

Distance: 3.1 miles

Weekly Total: 8.6 miles

Treasure: 1 blue hair band.

Race Weight: 203 lbs.

Post-race weight: 200 lbs.

Time: 30:25

Place: 1^st in Men’s 45-49 years old

iPod Playlist (Running playlist)

Broken – Lifehouse

Catch My Disease – Ben Lee (This is my favorite running song; not the fastest pace but it just makes me happy and want to run – and clap and sing along, too.)

Distance – Ryan McCullough

Heartbreak Warfare – John Mayer

I Will Follow You Into the Dark – Death Cab for Cutie

I Will Possess Your Heart – Death Cab for Cutie

Just Like a Pill - Pink

This blog blows

Really, you should be reading something else. And I have a suggestion. Check out my friend Carmen Peterson’s blog, She Runs Everywhere. It’s always fun. She spices it up with video a lot more than I do, which was about twice I think. And her videos are hilarious. She just sits and chats with you like a friend. But out of the blue she’ll pop off at one of her children, frequently Little Carmen, for doing something forbidden, like touching the camera. I love it.

Anyway, Carm’s most recent post was her 100^th and she made it special by announcing a give-away. That’s right, folks, here’s a chance to get somethin’ for nothin’. Well, OK, not prezactly nothin’. But it won’t cost you cash. Carm is giving away a paid entry in the Galesburg Half Marathon Express. The race is June 3. It’s a first for the ‘Burg and it’s gonna rock. The brilliant organizers, Dave Dunn and Nick Pigg, have melded three runs in one. You have the option of a half marathon (13.1 miles), 5K (3.1 miles) 1 mile Gator Run (named for Dave’s famous Gator Sauce, which goes great with everything from Fruit Loops to fish).

How do you win a paid entry in the race? Just like stuff. Like Carm’s blog on Facebook. Like the HalfMarathon Express page on FB. Like Go Outside and Play Running Co. on FB. The more you like, the more entries you get in the drawing. What’s not to like?

There’s a great vibe cookin’ behind this promotion. It’s a bit of positive mojo for Galesburg. Much has been said and written about the downside to the ’Burg. A lot of it is true. Some folks are working to change that, too. But people focus too much on the negative and forget about the great things this town has: low cost of living, low crime rate (especially violent crime), some great specialty shops, history (including a native Pulitzer Prize winner and ties to several presidents), friendly people, convenient proximity to larger metropolitan areas for even the excitement you can’t find here, passenger rail to the rest of the outside world (like Chicago), and on and on.

So check out She RunsEverywhere. Check out Galesburg.

Today’s story

 

Track-ball is kinda hard to see in there.

 The title of today’s entry, besides being a good lead-in to pushing somebody else’s blog, was born of the confluence of three of the first four songs in the shuffle list: The Wind, Flying and Time for Me to Fly. But that’s about as far as it goes.

The real story is about a ball. The one non-can find of the day was a foam rubber baseball. I almost passed it by; it was lying between the rail and concrete in the railroad crossing at Ferris and Cedar streets. I decided it might be the only object worth collecting for the day, so I stopped. First a couple of pix, then I tossed it into the bag and kept running.

The ball on the tracks reminded me of a story from my youth, though. My mum’s from Philadelphia and we used to visit my grandparents there every summer. The trip always included a Phillies ballgame in Veterans Stadium. We’d take the train from Huntingdon Station into Philly and transfer to the underground to get us to the park. I recall one such trip found some poor boy crying about the baseball he’d dropped from the platform down onto the subway tracks. I don’t honestly recall if it was a ball he was taking to the game in hopes of getting an autograph or if it was a souvenir from the game. Either way, he was upset. Even at the young age of 11 or 12 or whatever I was, I saw the dark humor in the wino’s suggestion to “ask the nice policeman to get your ball for you.”

The ball was lost.

Today's Stats

Temp: 62 degrees F

Distance: 3 miles

Weekly Total: 5.5 miles

Treasure: 1 foam rubber baseball; 9 cans.

iPod Playlist (shuffle)

The Wind – Billy Bob Thornton (Covering Warren Zevon)

Flying – Secret Machines (Covering The Beatles, from the “Across the Universe” soundtrack)

Tomorrow Never Knows – The Beatles

Time for Me to Fly – REO Speedwagon

Dance Hall Days – Wang Chung

My Love is Your Love – Whitney Houston

Studebaker – Jordan Zevon (Covering his dad) Beautiful song, informative video. Watch it.

Ya Ya – Lee Dorsey (“American Graffiti” soundtrack)

We Will Not Be Lovers – The Waterboys

And that’s the way it is

Walter Cronkite: "And that's the way it is."

And there you have it. And here you go. It is what it is. So it goes. And that’s the way it is. At the end of the day…

What is and what should never be. Some of the all-pervasive, ever invasive catch-phrases that enter our vocabulary fit into the title of the Led Zeppelin song. “So it goes,” is a classic I gleaned from “Slaughterhouse Five.” It’s the same “what can you do?” sentiment expressed by the popular “it is what it is,” but it sounds a lot better. Way to go, Kurt. Billy Joel snagged it for a song title; that's how awesome it is.

I know some folks who hate that phrase – “it is what it is.” I know a lot folks who use it. I’m indifferent to it. Eh, it is what it is. The one that grates on my nerves is “at the end of the day.” Politicians and prognosticators bandy it about as if it’s the wisest conclusion to be proclaimed. I’d rather they just used the old tried and true “bottom line is…” Frankly, I don’t think the end of the day matters a whit. There’s always tomorrow. Just ask Scarlet O’Hara or any Cubs fan. 

I don't know. It caught my eye for some
reason. Which way to go from here?

Much better than these everyday boilerplate specials are some of the phrases my dad has uttered over the years. I’m sure everyone’s dad or mum has some special phrases they use a lot, the kind that you’ll always associate with them whenever you hear those words. Some may be unique, others are shared through our collective cultural consciousness.

Among my favorites from Dad:

I’m not just talking to hear my head rattle. – Usually to emphasize a bit of advice or a directive not to be taken lightly. The smart-ass in me always wanted to reply, “So that’s just a side-effect?”

He don’t know shit from shinola. – To denote a real idiot.

Looks like 10 pounds in a 5-pound sack – Somebody wearing clothes that are too tight.

How about I plant my foot in your ass? That’ll motivate you. – In response to my declaring lack of motivation (why did I think that excuse would work for anything?)

If everybody liked the same thing, there wouldn't be enough to go around – A nice acknowledgement of differing tastes. Sometimes followed by, "Good, more for me!"


You're like a fart in a whirlwind – To describe an antsy child/teen, or any other person buzzing about with nervous energy.

OK, the first is the best and my all-time favorite. There are others but I’m drawing a blank just now. Any other time I could come up with a half-dozen. On the spot, I suffer writer’s block. Now you know why I haven’t started that novel yet.

So, what does any of that have to do with today’s run? Hmmm. Nothing really. I was bereft of ideas and the phrases popped into my head because I’d posted the opener on Facebook and some of the following were responses from friends. One asked if my first entry was from Walter Cronkite. Former Register-Mail Editor Robert F. Harrison chimed in with a history lesson: “And that's the way it is, Tuesday, April 22, 2012. I'll be away from the anchor desk for a while...” Thank you, Bob.

And with that … Good night, and good luck.

I've collected two bras in my runs.
This one seemed beyond salvage.

Today's Stats

Temp: 60 degrees F

Distance: 2.5 miles

Treasure: 1 penny; 9 cans. Passed on: 1 blue bra, 1 flattened fork and a lone Nike.

iPod Playlist (shuffle)

Start the Apocalypse – Robert Kral (“Angel” TV series soundtrack)

Lonesome Day – Bruce Springsteen

Crucifixion – John Debney (“The Passion of the Christ” soundtrack)

Narrow Way, Pt. 1 – Pink Floyd

Station Call – Wynton Marsalis

Best of Times – Styx

Owner of a LonelyHeart – Yes

One of My Turns – Roger Waters (“The Wall Live in Berlin”)

I Took a P

All right, I haven’t run in more than a month. Not since the St. Patrick’s Day 5K. Not good. It’s not quite like starting over, but it was a bit rough. And yet, still amazingly satisfying and rejuvenating. It might be an overstatement to say I love running. OK, it would be an overstatement. What I love are the after-effects.

 I love that feeling of confidence, like I can take on the world and win. I love that bit of ache that says, “hey, you have muscles and they work.” I love the improved endurance, physical fitness. I love the weight loss/control. I love the different perspective on life and my surroundings.

Anyway, I was missing all that. And today seemed a good day to get back to it. It’s Cleanup Days here in the ’Burg and that means possibilities. Last year I picked up a good mattress set and a recliner. When I told a friend about the potential today had in store, I was tasked with finding a coffee percolator. Alas, no “percs” beyond the usual running bennies. I waited too late in the week or too late in the morning and there wasn’t much on my route today. Maybe I’ll be blessed with bonus gumption tomorrow and hit it again to see if I can strike a mother lode.

Kind of sad to see a kid's artwork on the curb.

What did I see? Loads of trash, mostly, and I mean uninteresting, everyday garbage. Oh, there was the promising wooden rocker that turned out to have a split seat and the painted portrait done by some high school student. But nothing really eye-catching was left at the curb by 9 a.m.

Live and learn.

Today's Stats

Temp: 63 degrees F

Distance: 3.24 miles

Treasure: 1 foam letter P; 3 cans.

iPod Playlist (shuffle)

Stairway to Heaven – Led Zeppelin

Absolute – The Fray

Other Possibilities – Rachel Portman (“Chocolat” soundtrack)

The Red Strokes – Garth Brooks (Obviously not the original video, but how perfect!)

Night Flight – Led Zeppelin

Burning Down the House – Talking Heads

Wine Snacks – Ryan Adams (intro banter before “A Kiss Before I Go”)

Unwritten – Natasha Bedingfield (Jeez, how did I miss this video for so long? She's gorgeous!)

I Want Your Sex (Parts 1 & 2) – George Michael

She lost her head and her arms!

Lovin' the Ride

I am committed to running in two 5Ks this summer and I haven't run since St. Patrick's Day. That doesn't bode well. And, honestly, my waistline is suffering the consequences. Conversely, if I run right now, my left knee will suffer. So I made a choice. This morning I made another choice: Bike, baby, bike!

It's no secret that I love biking. Bicycles (yes, I have several) are my primary mode of transportation — by choice, thank you. But as a means of transportation it provides me only minimal exercise. Yeah, it's more than many undertake, but pedaling leisurely about town on errands or back and forth a few blocks to work rarely breaks a sweat. Oh, it's as enjoyable as any activity one can do in public with a modicum of decency, but it's not burning a lot of calories.

So I've come to the conclusion I need to bike more for fitness, in addition to transportation. Pump those legs, feel the burn and all that. I've been out a few times since March 17, at random it seems, but I need to commit to a program just as I did when I began running. Hopefully I'll get good news when I finally make an appointment to see a doctor about the knee and can return to running. In the meantime — and perhaps even after that — I'm vowing to ride like the wind. Bull's-eye!

Today's ride was beautiful. Sunny and cool, the way spring is supposed to be. I love summer, but why rush it, eh? (Though that teaser was awfully nice.) I headed north to loop Lake Storey and stop at Dunham's Sports for a bicycle inner tube and Target for a card and toothpaste (aren't you thrilled to read my shopping list?). The lake route was gorgeous. The park is greening up and parks workers were out distributing picnic tables for the summer. The shelters already have their complement and two rows of tables remained to be hauled around the grounds. 

There was one little hitch in the ride. A downed tree about one-third of a mile from the start of the lake path blocked the way. A double culvert right at that point made for kind of a tight squeeze to get around the roadblock. I'll let the city staff know.

I snagged two CDs along South Lake Storey Road on the return leg. I think they're unused and not very marred. Still, I doubt they'll be recordable now. I saw a few cans, but didn't stop for them. I did grab the three easy marks in front of the apartment as I picked up some fluttering Subway napkins and other trash. (Yeah, I know, pat myself on the back; who else is gonna do it?)

Note: For those who care about the music, I was carrying my iPod Touch today instead of the Nano. I created a Genius Playlist starting with John Mayer's "Covered in Rain" because I love that song and found myself playing it on repeat for quite a while Sunday night. Genius gave me a mix of similar tunes, allowing me to stay in the mellow mood of "Rain" without wearing out the track in my head. I did once listen to "Rest Stop" by Matchbox 20 for eight hours straight one Saturday at work — until my CD player just stopped playing. No, the batteries weren't dead; it just got sick of it, I guess. Go figure.

Today's Stats
Temp: 46 degrees F (after temp; methinks it was cooler at the start)
Distance: 13 miles
Treasure: 2 recordable CD-Rs; 3 cans (right in front of my building); 1 27x1.25 bicycle tube (bought at Kmart, the only place in town that had one.

iPod Playlist (Genius playlist based on John Mayer's "Covered in Rain")
Amsterdam - Coldplay
Proudest Monkey - Dave Matthews Band
Catch My Disease - Ben Lee
Lenny/Man on the Side - John Mayer
Fortress Around Your Heart - Sting
I Hung My Head - Sting
For a Dancer - Jackson Browne
Angry - Matchbox 20
You're So Real - Matchbox 20
King of Pain - The Police
New York State of Mind - Billy Joel (Ya gotta check out this video!)
Comfortable - John Mayer
Kody - Matchbox 20
Hard on You - Rob Thomas
Warning Sign - Coldplay
Push - Matchbox 20

In Memoriam: Charles H. Farrar

Dr. Charles Farrar was my scoutmaster and my friend. Chuck, as I came to know him, died late Wednesday morning. We lost his son Chris, my longtime best friend, two years ago in June. I’ve been thinking about that now with Chuck’s passing, but I’ll talk about that later. I want to share a little of who Chuck was to me.

That's Chuck front left.

First, I have to admit that “Chuck” seems so familiar and informal that I’ve found myself questioning my use of that name. His wife Lee and son-in-law John call him Charles. It sounds so much more respectful and dignified; and he deserves that. Somehow I adopted “Chuck,” perhaps through hearing others in Scouts use it. I’m not sweating it; I don’t think he minded.

Anyway, I met Chuck through Boy Scouts. He was scoutmaster of Troop 213, chartered through Corpus Christi Church and later the Knights of Columbus. Ironic. Chris was my pal, introduced through band and the carpool that made transportation a little easier on our parents. He invited me to join the troop and I loved it.

Chuck was a hell of a scoutmaster. He was an enthusiastic educator. I remember learning rope-making, knot-tying, woodcraft, canoeing, cooking and a host of other skills under his tutelage. Oh boy, cooking. My first and strongest memory of Chuck involves cooking. My first campout with the troop found me on cooking detail right off. Trial by fire, so to speak. I don’t recall who was my fellow chef, but I learned a solid lesson about cooking for a group that night. As we slopped together the ingredients for goulash or something akin to it, I did what I thought a good cook was supposed to do – add seasoning. A dash or two of salt is a must, right?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” roared Chuck.

I explained the obvious. Chuck then explained the, to me, not so obvious. Not everybody likes it that way. Leave it basic, let the individual salt to taste. Yes, sir.

Chuck’s enthusiasm for Scout skills was impossible to rein in. Even when we teen boys lost interest in building our own dog sled for the Klondike Derby as the project wore on and lamented that none of the other troops were constructing their own shelter, he urged us on. He was teacher and cheerleader. We awoke to ice on the water bucket, frost on the ground, my sleeping bag half out of the back end of the lean-to and my glasses broken. But what a memory. And I always carried a sense of pride for having done it the hard way, the roughing-it way that others missed out on.

Chuck is second from right in the front row. Dig that soup-strainer.

Later Chuck led a contingent of Scouts, including Chris and me, to Philmont Scout Ranch, the BSA’s premier high adventure camp, located in the moutains of northeastern New Mexico. Chuck drove his monster van out there, loaded with boys and gear, accompanied by the legendary Vern Coates, another Scout leader and longtime rifle instructor at our local camp, the now defunct Fellheimer Scout Reservation.

In those days Chuck was often found puffing on his pipe. Now, I’ve got to tell you, he smoked some pleasantly fragrant tobaccos. But smoking is smoking and it took its toll. As we hiked the winding trail from Baldy Town toward 12,441-foot Baldy Mountain, Chuck grew winded. Before we reached tree line he begged off, telling us he’d wait for us on the return after we summited. We felt bad leaving him behind, even at his insistence. What a joy it was to look down from the summit and see that he’d marshaled his forces and made it to the “saddle” below the rocky peak. Perseverance.

It was Chuck who kicked Chris and me in the butt to finish the requirements for the Eagle Scout badge as the pull of high school and band drew us away from Scouts. We got it done, just under the wire.

Chuck, for me, was synonymous with Kmart and Radio Shack. He bought loads of miscellaneous camping supplies from Kmart back in the day. And it was at the Farrar house that I was first introduced to the home computer – a TRS-80, complete with cassette drive. Chuck was into computers from the start, perhaps because it was useful in his work as a psychologist. Maybe he just liked “noodling around” on it as my dad would say. 

From Courtney's FB pix. Chuck in the Air Force.

I called on Chuck a dozen or so years ago for a story about the rise of the home computer. The Register-Mail was doing a year-long weekly series of stories to commemorate the impending arrival of the new millennium. One of the stories I came up with was on home computers. As it turns out, Chuck had kept pretty much every computer he ever owned in a home museum in his basement. Most of them still functioned!

A few years later, it was Chuck who called on me. He presented me with the opportunity of a lifetime. As a member of Galesburg’s Noon Rotary Club, Chuck was looking for someone to send to Sweden. He may have guessed at my affinity for blondes, but I don’t that really had anything to do with it. He was recruiting a team for the Group Study Exchange. That’s a whole other story, but I was honored and humbled that Chuck would recommend me for the program. I passed muster and spent April of 2004 in Sweden and Denmark. Thanks, Chuck.

When Chuck’s daughter called me Wednesday with the news, my thoughts quickly turned to Chris. Not that I abandoned Courtz, John and Lee, but I entered a strange world of supposition and curiosity. Not so much the world of “what ifs,” but the world of “I wonder.” I wonder why the Farrars should be slammed this way. I know, it’s life and death and it just happens to all of us eventually, but who doesn’t question the grand scheme in times like this, even if only briefly? I wonder what it would be like if Chris were still here at this time. I wonder if Chris and Chuck are reunited? There are so many varied beliefs on the afterlife, even within the confines of Christianity. I wonder how that works? Interesting that these questions should arise with the approach of Easter. I doubt the answer will come to me this Sunday, but it’s interesting nonetheless.