Run like the wind - or into it . . .

'You look like an Ethiopian', the cross country coach said to my eldest son.  Noah took that as a compliment and rightly so.  Long and lean (read - SKINNY) his body type does resemble those very thin marathon runners.  And he's living up to the type.  He continues to improve his time and moved up to the number 3 spot on the team.  His new 5K PR - 19:54 - so far. Not bad - for a skinny white guy.  :o

(Is it just me or do any of you ever wonder how those pencil stick-like legs can carry those guys so far and so fast? ) 

Well, it seems like the running bug has bitten a few other members of this family.  After running in the (gulp) Senior Games a few weeks ago (which, by the way, I had an absolute blast doing.  Hanging out with a gaggle of old fogies like me - barely able to bend over to tie their running shoes was super fun) there have been a series of races in the area that a couple of us decided to run.  With Gary out with a bad back/hip/leg, I roped India into running a 4K with me, which happened to land on probably one of the coldest and windiest days of the fall. (like nearly every other day in South Dakota)  All was well at first - running with the wind at our back pushing us along.  I thought, man, I could do this all day.  Then at the turn I hit the arctic blast that nearly knocked me over and I felt like I was on a treadmill.  But we trudged through - even though our legs and arms felt like icicles. Or could we even feel our legs . . . 

After we thawed out, India thought that was so much fun, (?!) she decided she wanted to run a 5K the next weekend - and roped me into it.  Turn about is fair play I guess.  But during the week, she was dancing and someone actually landed on top of her knee and tore her LCL!  Who knew dancing was a contact sport?!  Ouch - I know.  So, she wasn't up to running, but she went along anyway and kind of walked/jogged the course.  (Much against the physical therapist's advice)  It was a perfect day for a race.  51 degrees, sunny with a slight breeze.  Beautiful.  

You know what the greatest thing about these event is - the people you meet and the conversations that you have.  I love it.  (Of course, wearing those perfectly ugly 5 Finger toed running shoes is sure to garner a comment or two - and a few stares and sneers and giggles . . .)  

Side note - at this race I got my 'After Children and Now I'm Old - PR'  of 26:17.  So, that's okay too.  (For a senior citizen)

And Gary actually ran a few miles this week, so maybe he's up for a race or two now.  There's a 5k trail run this Sunday, and another 5K the following weekend.  I say - why not?   Add that to Noah's Conference, Region, and state (we hope and pray) cross country meets the next three weeks and  - wow. The miles are piling up.   

You could say we're runners - I'd say we're just - running amok . . . 

 

   

Seasons change . . .

Either I'm really getting old or I'm simply a chronic complainer - (or both) - but I am really not looking forward to the cold season that has been sprung on us.  I am so not ready for boots and hats and mitts!  :(  But last night, my cold toes were the least of our worries.  With the threat of temperatures dipping in the 20's - my sons' garden was in peril.  So, they did what every produce grower does around here - sets out to save those lovely tomatoes before old Jack Frost could get to them.  Usually that means throwing a sheet over and hope for the best.  But that was just not good enough for my young entrepreneurs.  Nope.  They had to make sure their investment was safe.  So they worked til the wee hours doing things by the book (or by the world wide web) - and then some.

First, they watered the base of all the plants til we nearly ran out of water.  Then they filled buckets with water and set them on the ground which was now an acre of mud.  Then they mounted a small space heater on a block of wood, set it in the middle and turned it on 'high'. (If it fell, it would plop into the wet mud, so we weren't too worried)  Then they covered all the plants they could with plastic from top to bottom.  And then, they prayed.

The next morning we awoke to the grass blanketed with white crunchy icy frost, and all the leaves everywhere that weren't covered were black and dead from the 28 degree temps.  A collective gasp was heard as we stared out the window.  The boys donned their hats and boots and ran out the door.  Yes, the tomatoes were saved!!  Hallelujah!  It was well worth the effort.  There are so many tomatoes still on the vines, we could not let them perish.  We need them for salsa, salads, spaghetti sauce and for our version of BLT's -  TLT's.  Tofu, Lettuce and Tomato!!   MMM!!!

So, thank you once again to the internet for helping us to find out how to do things. It never ceases to amaze me.
Now, if only we could find out how to stave off winter completely . . .

And then there were frogs . . .

Is this Egypt?  I have begun to think so.  As I stepped out onto the brick patio and had to dodge at least 8 little critters that were jumping from the grass to the flower bed  before hitting the driveway to begin my daily run.  By the time I hit the mail box, 4 other toady friends leapt out of my path and there were 5 more before I reached the corner.  And that's where I lost count.  Between the fields of corn and as each telephone pole rolled by, I was hopping and leaping as much as they were just so I wouldn't step on them.  It was the game Frogger in real life.  With me being the logs.  2 weeks ago they were tiny and cute.  Now - not so much.  They morphed into, well, bigger, fatter frogs and plopped aside rather than hopped.  Ick.
I fell like I'm running an obstacle course, much like the one Noah is going to run this weekend.  He'll run three miles cross country, up and down hills,  over hay bales, and through water.  Sounds like fun, doesn't it?!  I hope and pray he does really well and is happy with his race.
And I hope he doesn't meet up with any frogs along the way.

 I can see it now - The Dodging Leap Frogs Marathon.  The new craze in sport.

Now if the water turns to blood, I'll really start to worry.