Get up, get back on your feet...

"You're the one they can't beat and you know it."

Triumphant return!

The worst thing about an injury is the disruption in routine. I don't consider myself a real creature of habit, but I guess we all are to a lesser or greater degree. And habits die hard, even the good ones. So once you've developed a good habit, like running, it's hard to break that routine just because of a little ol' muscle pull. Eventually, hopefully, wisdom holds sway and you take a break from the good habit.

Ah, healing. Feels a little better after a week. Hmmm. Maybe I should do just a short run. NO! Ya gotta be firm with yourself. Be smart about this. So you skip a few more days. Ah, healing. And relaxing. Oooh. Apart from the growing gut this feels pretty nice (I know, a pack and a half of Lorna Doones in a sitting doesn't help). Sleeping in, lounging around, No slave to routine is this guy. But you're foolin' yourself. You've become a slave to a new routine, an unhealthy one. Now you (that is to say I) have to break this bad routine of sloth.

Now, I could bow out another day (sore back began yesterday for some reason -- seriously, honest) and wait 'til Monday. But then that's just three more days of bad routine. The back really isn't that sore (seriously, honest). So today it is. Back on the streets.

Right left behind.

 I'm back from my run, refreshed, cleansed and clean. "Yeaow! I feel good," to quote the Godfather of Soul. I did three miles in 34 minutes, not far off my usual pace, which I'd say isn't bad for an inaugural trot on icy streets. And I even managed to pick up a handful of cans, a glove and some other knit remnant I have yet to identify (probably trash). I did bypass a kid's mitten that was atop the snow just off the street along the route to Silas Willard School (he or she just might return for it, however unlikely).

Today's Stats
Temp: 16 degrees F
Distance: 3 miles
Treasure: 1 leather glove, Thinsulate lined; 1 misc. knit remnant, unidentified; 15 cans.

iPod Playlist (shuffle)
Everywhere I Go - The Call

Two of  a Kind, Workin' On a Full House - Garth Brooks

Bed of Lies - Matchbox Twenty

Foolish Games - Jewel

Captain Jack - Billy Joel

I and Love and You - The Avett Brothers

Brothers in Arms - Dire Straits 

UPDATE: Ups and downs

Well, Lost & Found comes through with a pleasant surprise for a fellow R-M employee. I thought I recognized that ROSE license plate when I picked it up yesterday. Sure enough, it belongs to Rosie R. I took the plate down to the paper this morning to check my hunch. Rosie wasn't there, but her daughter, Shelly T., was. Shelly works at The R-M, too, as does Shelly's hubby and a few other of their relatives. When we say The Register-Mail is a family newspaper we mean it.

I signaled to Shelly that I needed to speak to her with a curly come-here finger motion and she groaned. "Now what?" Like the newsroom is ever the bad guy in any of the interdepartmental interactions. I assured her I didn't have bad news. After confirming Rosie's license plate number, I retrieved the tag from my backpack and presented it to an elated Shelly. Later, Shelly's husband, Mike, told me the story of how Rosie's license plate ended up in the street. Seems Rosie and her husband were leaving Steak 'n Shake the other day and couldn't see past the snow pile on the north side of the lot exit. Nosing out onto Henderson, their car got just clipped by another vehicle already zooming along in the right lane -- clipped just enough to rip off the license plate (like would happen in a movie if the director wanted to show a close-but-no-real-damage encounter).

That felt pretty good, though I would have liked to add a real license plate to my collection of goodies. The pair of Iowa tags I found on a walk last fall ended up at the police station because I figured it was possible they were discarded from a stolen vehicle. Unlikely, but it seemed the good citizen thing to do.

On a lighter note, the C.J. Banks 3X denim shirt washed up nicely. It may be headed for the mission or someplace like that. It has one minor tear on the left halter tie. That's right, it's a halter-type top, kind of a midriff-barer. Check it out.

The downer today came in an email from MapMyRun.com. Seems I lost track of time and the 30 Miles in 30 Days Challenge has ended and I came up short. I was crushed. For months I have easily met that challenge. But hobbled for two weeks by a nagging injury that is just now nearly fully healed, my mileage suffered. I made it to 28 miles as of my last run. Had I just gone on my basic 3-miler yesterday I would have made the mark. Not that it means anything to anybody but me, but there was a prize drawing for those completing the challenge and it just sucks to fail.

My response to failure (after a little self-pity):

"So you failed. Alright you really failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You think I care about that? I do understand. You wanna be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make them wonder why you're still smiling." — Claire Colburn, Elizabethtown

Dream a little dream

I have begun to amass quite a collection. With Ronald Reagan's centennial yesterday, there's been some talk recently of the old "arms race" — the Cold War contest to see who could blow whom to kingdom come the quickest and most efficiently, theoretically while remaining alive and intact to enjoy the nuclear winter that would consume the desolate remains. Well, I feel like I'm in a "hands race" — the effort to collect the most gloves lost by other poor souls.

Sunday's picks: a cotton glove, pair of
ladies' small leather gloves, gas cap.

Like Old Maid or other match-the-pictures memory games, my quest is to find mates for some of the gloves I've gathered into my clutches. Thought I had achieved that rare feat the other day when I picked up a second knit glove with rubberized palm. Alas, two rights do not a matched pair make — unless one has had a hand transplant of a right hand onto the left arm. If so, give me a call.

I have, however, picked up a complete pair in one fell swoop. It happened Sunday on my way to The Register-Mail. I had spotted the pair in the gutter just south of the old West Theater, but passed them by on first consideration. They were small, leather and one zipper was missing its pull tab. That first encounter may have been Saturday. But when I rode by Sunday afternoon I decided to snatch 'em up. Maybe I goaded myself into it because I'd been handed a single cotton glove somewhere back on Kellogg Street near Cottage Hospital. So, there I was Sunday with three sopping-wet gloves in hand (not on hands; I don't have three hands).

I think that singular success sparked a dream this morning in the predawn hours before I fully woke. I found myself riding along North Seminary Street in the block that holds my parents' house. A few houses north of theirs I spotted a glove. Stopping to check it out, I notice another within a couple of feet. Then I see a complete pair. And another! Pretty soon I also spot a scarf; I'm confused at first whether it is a Chicago Blackhawks item or Iowa Hawkeyes. Turns out it's Iowa. Hmm, maybe daughter No. 1's boyfriend would like it. I start to gather its length into a bundle when I realize it's among a whole RACK of winter-wear odds and ends. WTF!? Why is there a sales rack of lost cold weather garments on the terrace? 

Is this what I've come to? Dreaming of lost gloves? Was it a sign? Am I to start a business? Rob's Lost & Found. There's a recently vacated space in the historic Seminary Street shopping district. Hmm...

Today wasn't only for dreams, though. Riding to GHS to deliver money to daughter No. 2 before lunch, I saw some article of clothing bunched up and flecked with snow on the side of the road on North Henderson Street. Not having a plastic bag with me at the moment, I passed it by. Then, as I crossed the street to Walgreens, I spied a license plate in the center turn lane. Well, there's no passing up such a prize. 

I stopped at Walgreens for a couple of snacks, primarily to get the right change for daughter No. 2, and  accepted the plastic shopping bag I normally would decline. Pedaling on to the high school, I drop off the money for my daughter's solo and ensemble contest fee, then high-tail it back to Henderson Street to scoop up that shirt and the license plate. I think I know the owner of the plate, so I'll be checking into that tomorrow. The shirt is in the wash as I write this and it will join the bra and panties I've already cataloged. OK, I know this is getting weird, but it's not like I'm wearing the stuff — not that there's anything wrong with that. By the way, do you think there's a connection between my writing about finding the bra and the recent appearance of Bra by Deals and Coupons Newsletter emails in my Yahoo! inbox?

Today's Stats

Temp: 25 degrees F

Distance: ? miles via bike

Treasure: C.J. Banks denim-look shirt, size 3X; vanity license plate ROSE _ _ _; 2 cans. From Sunday: 1 brown cotton glove; 1 pair leather gloves, ladies small, zipper back (one pull missing); 1 rubber gas cap (from a snowblower or some other piece of equipment?)

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!

Two ladies in red. (Photo courtesy JC)

Thank you, Bay City Rollers. While I was stuck in the office Saturday, I retired to a nice after-work refreshment with a couple of lovely ex-co-workers. I see Jane, who now works at Monmouth College, only occasionally and Alison even less (she's way down in Forgottonia), so the brief visit was welcome.

I met the two former Fighting Scots at Budde's Pizza, one of the best bars in town. I was a little worried I'd have to walk home (no, not because I drank too much). You see, I've been having trouble with my new bike lock. My last lock, which I'd had for a couple of decades, was lost when I failed to firmly snap shut the lock-hook and it bounced off the seat-spring from which it was dangling. Undoubtedly some other street scavenger was rewarded that day. Lucky! The new one tried to join its lost brethren as I crossed the tracks on the way home. Fortunately, this time I heard it hit the ground and turned around to retrieve it.

But that's jumping ahead. Before I left the newspaper office, I wrangled with that darned lock for a good 7 minutes, trying to open it in the warmth of the building so I wouldn't have to fiddle it with fumbling cold fingers outside Budde's. When several attempts failed to open the lock, I gave up and hoped nobody else would be fool enough to want to ride a bike home from a bar in the dead of winter. I parked ol' Robin Hood in front of the big picture window on the main bar side and crossed my fingers. Surprise -- nobody was willing to ride home on a free bike.

Visiting with my former co-workers was enlightening, entertaining and encouraging. We talked of mutual friends, compared the PR world and the news biz, shared stories about office dynamics. And the ladies were incredibly supportive of my recent blogging efforts. Now, maybe they just wanted to get a mention here -- they kind of pleaded for it actually -- but I think they were sincere in their plaudits. And they even offered fresh ideas for when I am stumped for topics. I noted how it's hard to write a blog about things you find on the run when you're not running. They were even complimentary about that and asked about my lame leg. (It's doing much better, thank you.) 

Of course the most exciting event of the evening came when Al elbowed her empty beer bottle and it nearly flew off the table. But as it skittered across the table with a couple of clanks, Al, who is notoriously nearly as clumsy as JC, snatched it and set it upright in one deft maneuver. we were, all three of us, stunned. "That's the most coordinated moment of my entire life," Al confessed with a note of pride, after she picked her jaw up off the floor.

Strangely, neither of them mentioned the Victoria's Secret bra I picked up last week. Women.

Daily Stats

Distance: No idea

Treasure: two good friends; one Newcastle Brown Ale - $3.75; two aluminum cans on the ride home

Soundtrack: don't recall much, but it was heavily dosed with The Avett Brothers.

Target acquired

I've now gone a full week without running. It sucks. But the leg is getting better and I think I'll be able to return to form Monday. No running doesn't mean no exercise, though. I bike everywhere. Even in record-setting blizzard conditions. That's right, Tuesday's storm set Galesburg's single-day snowfall record -- 15 inches.

"Ooh, stop it! Your hand is cold!"

Biking has turned up fewer finds, maybe because I tend to follow the same route to and from work every day and haven't had a lot of other errands to do. But today's trip to Target netted a knit glove with rubberized palm and fingers and I found a doozy of a street treasure coming home from work late the other night. Frozen to the pavement of the Cottage Hospital parking lot at Kellogg and Losey streets, near the apartments on that corner, was a beautiful blue brassiere. Maybe I should have left it for the poor gal who evidently lost it from her laundry basket, but I figured: a.) It had been there a while as it was frozen solid and had to be pried off the ground, and 2.) She probably wouldn't wear it again after it had been frozen to the parking lot. Maybe I'm wrong, and I feel a little guilty about that; I mean it's a really nice bra -- a lacy, padded Victoria's Secret "Dream Angels" Lined Demi Bra, size 36D. That baby retails for $45. Actually it washed up rather nicely. Now what do I do with it?

Target, by the way, was the source of Monster trail mix, Gold Bond foot cream, facial tissues and contact lens rewetting drops. Lowe's provided a repair kit for the kitchen faucet. Do you care for my shopping list? I didn't think so but I've got nothing else at the moment.

Today's Stats
Riding, not running
Distance: 5.2 miles
Treasure: 2 Coke cans; 1 black knit glove with rubberized palm/fingers; 1 Victoria's Secret bra (earlier this week)

Blizzard Bike: The Movie

Finally safe at home.

It is here ... Blizzard Bike: The Movie! Galesburg got smacked with one of the wickedest winter storms in years Feb. 1-2. I have to admit, I never give much credence to the weather forecast. I try to be prepared for what may come, but I'm usually pretty skeptical of predictions of dire weather conditions. And all the hubbub over thunderstorms these days really baffles me.

Snowstorms, well they can really mess up life, though I think the greatest suffering has come from the fiendish February ice storm of 2008. (Original story not archived for some reason.) That storm froze the town solid, knocked out power for more than a day (at least at my house) and pretty much just sucked.

So, back to snowstorms. I've always been awed by the power of East Coast storms to stifle life in New York, Boston, D.C. And yet, part of me always thinks, "It's just snow, what's the big deal?" Foolish, I know, but when it's not hindering your existence it's easy to dismiss the damage done. Thus, a storm like we just had nicely jogs one back to reality.

I've been giving the leg a rest, so I welcomed the exertion of bicycling through the snow the past two days. The early ride, seen in the first half of the video here, wasn't so bad. Only a couple inches had fallen by mid-afternoon, so while it was a little wiggly in the saddle, it wasn't too bad. The ride home Monday night, however, was truly treacherous. Wind was blowing out of the north, right into my face, sending snow at 40 mph into my eyes and stinging my cheeks. Fortunately the plows had made one pass on the main drags and the wind actually piled the powder against storefronts on the south side of Main Street, effectively clearing the sidewalks. And while bicycling is prohibited on downtown sidewalks, I figured it wasn't an issue given the circumstances.

But even Main Street and Seminary had enough of a base layer to cause the narrow tires of my Robin Hood to wiggle wildly at times. And the side streets hadn't been touched, so there was no choice but to dismount and walk the final block and a half home from Seminary Street. Still, now I can say I've biked in a blizzard.

Coming Soon...

Blizzard Bike: The Movie

Tune in later for video of Galesburg's big blizzard, shot from the saddle of my Robin Hood 3-speed today and tonight, to and from work. Fun stuff, folks!