Borrowing from others

I thought about trying to wait this heat wave out, but then I looked at the long-term forecast and had to come up with a better plan.

Running after the sun had set, or after it was well on its way to setting, worked out well last summer. Also a good idea: getting by with some help from my friends.

First of all, I thought back to July, when Emily completed a marathon during that hot stretch we had before RAGBRAI. It made me feel appropriately humbled and empowered. If she could do it for 26 miles, I can do it for three.

Of course I expect the pace to be slower and yet more challenging. Regina and I, with two other friends, went on a night run at Gray's Lake recently, and she decided no walking until mile two.

The next day, when I was running during the late evening hours (read: there was still sun), I struck the same bargain with myself, because mile two came in the middle of two small but long inclines. Worked like a charm.

And I paid attention to a mistake that Cory, who is preparing for the Hy-Vee Triathlon, made during his post-work run on city trails — no water bottle. I generally don't like carrying water bottles, but during that two-mile walk break, I decided that I can tolerate it during heat waves.

I didn't feel like I was pushing too hard during that run (though it definitely didn't feel easy), and yet here were the numbers: 91 degrees with a feels-like reading of 97 degrees; 3.5 miles in 32:19 for a 9:15 pace; splits of 9:36, 8:50 and 9:04 for the full miles; and only one walk break. Downhill portions help, but I bet water breaks do, too.

So despite my insistence that the Boone County 5K was SO HARD because it was SO HOT YOU GUYS, I've still managed to enjoy a few of the heat wave runs. What a surprise, and what a nice change from previous summers where I sulked inside in the air conditioning about "not being able to run."

Art on the run

I began this blog with lofty ambitions, one of which was the weekly "seen while running" roundup.

That feature fell victim to complacency, in two ways: One, the more I ran the main roads around my apartment, the less extraordinary their infrastructure/architecture seemed; and two, the more certain I was of my whereabouts (during the daytime), the less I felt compelled to carry my smartphone and invite shoulder twinges.

But still, I appreciate the views I have, particularly the opportunity that running gives me to observe them safely, and I like seeing my overall time/splits after a good stretch and a tall glass of water.

So, while it took me a month or so, I've managed to gather a few works of art and creativity:

Is it Herky or Cy? I'm from a noncollege town and graduated from a Division II college; I have no idea! But seriously: He perches along Woodlands Parkway. Very appropriate.

Whew, something I understand: NFL loyalty and passion for the color purple. And no, Packer fans, I am not going to join you in vitriol against the Vikings just because they're also in the NFC North.

Here's the reason for the creativity reference. It's getting darker earlier, but I love my sweatbands. What to do? Loosen my headlamp as far as it'll go and wear it around my hips — so that it also keeps my shirt from rolling up.

On the dark side of the street

This Q&A about takes place between me and an imaginary amalgam of all the people who would likely express worries about my safety.

We begin with concerned person asking whether I'm still running and my affirmative response. Then:

Q: How do you survive this heat? (This fake conversation begins in early July and stretches out over the past month-plus.)

A: I've been running after work, when it's cooler.

Q: Isn't it dark out then?

A: Well, yeah, but that's why it's tolerable for running. Turns out my summer-run suffering was mostly caused by the relentless sun bouncing back off the asphalt, because the temperature and humidity become somewhat tolerable at night. And it also turns out that my inability to wake up/get moving is a moot point: There is no "early enough" to beat the heat, only "late enough."

Q: But you can still see?

A: Yeah, well enough. It doesn't get fully dark until about 9:30 p.m., you know. (Note: This was true when I first began running at night. It's not anymore.) Plus, there are streetlights. The ones in the more residential areas are kind of hit-and-miss, as are the sidewalks sometimes, but so far, so good.

Having said that, my next night run probably will result in a face-plant.

Q: Aren't you scared?

A: I was at first, but I stay along the main streets where there's traffic and businesses, like Walgreens and Kum and Go. Definitely not the rec trails through the forests. I also tend to keep these runs a little shorter, saving the longer ones for earlier start times. And I always bring my cellphone.

Q: What about creepers?

A: I haven't seen any yet. I see a lot of walkers, runners and bikers who apparently have the same idea I do. It startles me when they call out "on your left," but that's about as scared of other people as I've had to be, so far. In fact, I got to scare one of them the other night, when I passed him wide on his left — he was wearing earbuds. Now that seems like a dumb idea.

Q: What about cars?

A: Sometimes their doors slam, their horns honk, their rap music blares or their lights go out/come on abruptly. That startles me. To be honest, quite a few things startle me at night. I'm not sure how much of that is fear-conditioning and how much of that is a natural skittishness when it comes to loud noises.

Q: I mean, can they see you?

A: My running gear is bright, so yes. Also, I stay on sidewalks and look both ways before I cross the street.

Here, the questioner purses his or her lips, shakes his or her head regretfully and indicates through other body language that s/he does NOT endorse my decision. That's fair. I would've disapproved until fairly recently.

I don't have any data-driven rebuttals; the reasons I choose to run at night are that I like running, and that right now it's more practical for me to do so at night. Once we stop doing cartwheels over highs in the upper 80s, I'll head out before work rather than after it. In fact, between the heat wave's break and a shift in my schedule toward earlier start/quit times, the dark runs' reign may be nearing an end.

But the bottom line is, I control everything that I can about my own safety, just as we all do in the rest of our lives. And when all else fails, I think of a French professor at Truman who — I believe I'm remembering this right — went jogging around Moscow during the Soviet days while she was pregnant. On the danger scale, that beats Iowa during democracy and nonpregnancy.

Seen while running: Week of July 22

When I rounded a certain corner one evening, I thought I'd stumbled upon a miniputt course and started having flashbacks to Wisconsin vacations.

An office park in West Des Moines. My sources weren't kidding when they said this was the nice part of town ...

On the same route, if not the same run, it wasn't just the humidity making me think of the tropics and tropical drinks.

This is actually someone's house in West Des Moines. Makes our summertime Christmas lights seem a lot more subdued and less of a statement.

Can you guess what this is? Nope, it's not old carpeting. It's grass, on some stretch of land not owned by a business with money and water to spare on sprinklers.

A much better picture of drought than the one I took the prior week.

By far the scariest thing I've encountered on a run, including silent Lance Armstrongs: a possum. Before you laugh at me, just remember that our family dog had to visit the vet after tussling with one of these. The poor dog got bit in the jowls by that filthy creature ...  (Edited Aug. 1: Laugh at me. The dog fought a woodchuck, not a possum. I stand by my assertion that possums are nasty, though.)

Wild animals definitely have the right of way on rec paths. I yielded at a safe distance, hence the blurriness of the photo.

And of course there were Wednesday night's storm clouds, if you didn't catch my tale of daring ... or, rather, my tale of underpreparation and some darn good luck.

Not another post about the heat wave

Everyone who's stepped outside or consumed some form of media is probably not only tired of the heat wave, but also of hearing about it.

I think I'm even tired of complaining about it and railing about it, so in the vein of a Phoenix resident's tips for coping, I'll focus on what I've learned this week. Warning: If you're, like me, a cold weather runner desperately combing the Internet for a magic bullet ... I don't have it.

* Des Moines' trail system isn't awesome merely for the bathrooms it features (hey, when nature calls ... ) — it's awesome for the frequency of water fountains. On a related note, it might be time for me to give my Simple Hydration water bottle another try.

* Listening to my body has gone from being veteran runners' wisdom to something completely automatic. It's not a choice. I wish I could say that's because the switch has clicked and I've become a zen runner, but it's actually more like the human body flipping a lever and going into survival mode.

Example: Runs on July 3 and 4 averaged paces around 10-minute miles for the first two (downhill/flat terrain). They flew up past 11-minute miles for the second two (series of uphills) and reached 13:20 during what was apparently my toughest run. The stop-and-walk breaks aren't a matter of me being mentally weak, at this point; they're my body preventing me from overheating.

* There is no "good time of day" to run. Even though the figure on the thermometer almost doesn't matter — it's oppressively hot and muggy, period — I've been checking. We had 88 degrees at 10 a.m. on July 4; on July 6, 99 degrees at 8:15 p.m., 97 at 8:45 p.m. and 96 at 9:30 p.m.

But look at these numbers from my runs on those days: an average of 10:27 per mile over 4 miles on July 4, with the slowest being 13:20, versus an average of 9:56 per mile over 6.5 miles on July 6, with the slowest being 10:50. Plus, after returning from the shorter run, I had to spend probably twice as long in the A/C before I stopped sweating and could take a shower.

The difference was heading out midmorning versus later in the evening. Maybe the heat melted my brain so I don't remember how intensely I suffered during the July 4 run, but I can say with certainty that while I might not have hated running during the midmorning adventure, I know I liked running during the late evening adventure. (Sundown, by the way, comes closer to 9:15 or 9:30 p.m. in Des Moines right now, so the majority of this run was not done in the dark.)

* The last and most uplifting nugget: I'm adjusting. Or getting used to it. Or being worn down by it.

This isn't like "Green Eggs and Ham," where I hated summer runs before I tried them. This is more like being scared of driving on interstate highways until I graduated from college and had to choose between never visiting people outside the Rockford, Ill., metro area and dealing with merging/others merging at 65-plus mph.

To be serious for a second — and honest — I'm pretty proud of myself for choosing the "learn" option (in both situations) instead of the "hide" one. I haven't reached the full-on addiction like the folks I see running around asphalt-heavy, shade-free downtown at 1 p.m., and I don't plan to, but I'm able to suppress the urge to hunker down in the A/C for at least 40 minutes a day, a few days a week.

Take that, climate change. Actually, don't take that, and certainly don't read that as a challenge to throw even more devastating and drastic changes at us.

Seen while running: Week of June 24

Last week while running, I made some new friends ...

Somewhere along 50th Street, providing me a nice catch-your-breath break.

 ... saw some natural and man-made art ...

"Paths Unite," by James Bearden, on the Clive Greenbelt Trail

Walnut Creek, seen from an overlook with a bench, looked awfully inviting on a muggy summer evening. This was the night I checked out the Clive Greenbelt Trail on foot.

... had flashbacks of the upper Midwest (home sweet home) ...

Also the name of a neighborhood in Rockton, Ill.! This one looks a little swankier.

Just like in Stevens Point, Wis., near the Schmeeckle trails, Clive has phallic brick structures near its rec path!

... and watched sweat pool on every square inch of me.

That is a bib of sweat forming on my shirt.

Overall, a good week in running, even with the hiatus for extreme heat, and even with the not-extreme-but-just-intense heat.

Happy (new) trails in Clive

"So what are your big plans for today?" asked the cashier at Trader Joe's.

Um, it's 9:30 a.m. on a Monday, and my presence here in sloppy attire does not mean that I'm on vacation ... it only means that I don't work until the afternoon.

That's what I thought, but what I said was: "Oh, not much, I work later today, but I'll probably go on a run before then."

I'd been grateful I could at least throw out something other than eat and work, but I didn't expect running to sound so exciting to the cashier. When he asked where I ran, I tossed out a safe, vague, "around my neighborhood" and hoped he wouldn't ask where I live.

Instead, he laughed and said: "That's it? You don't go anywhere more interesting?"

Ice-cold burn! I mumbled something about not running very far and about maybe exploring this one path that my bike group took me on, then grabbed my change and groceries and left.

Cashier whose name I didn't catch, you were right, and I knew it. My routes weren't boring me — yet. Eventually it would happen, though, and it was time to shape up my time management skills so that I could start building in that variety.

Fast-forward past the heat to tonight, when the heat index was predicted to stay below 100 during the early evening hours and quitting time was 6 p.m. Driving to a trailhead seemed like far too much work, so I let the sun set a little bit and prepared myself for a five-miler. (It was at least 1.5 miles from my apartment to the forested trail I wanted to visit, so there was no point in going short.)

Three miles zipped by, and although the conditions were nowhere near as pleasant as last Saturday's, I felt nearly as strong and as enthusiastic about running. I knew how I'd extend my route — if I were up for it.

It turned out that I was definitely up for it, but it didn't come easy. The Friday night traffic helped, by giving me guilt-free catch-a-breath breaks, because it's definitely still humid ... and the miles after my optimistic decision to push for six miles definitely had upward inclines.

As I approached my previous post-half marathon best of 5.5 miles, disbelief hit me — I was going to run six miles, no problem! In Midwest humidity!

You know what else hit me? A side stitch, immediately after I notched 5.5 miles. Way to jinx it.

It passed, though, and I broke six miles (it was officially a 6.04-miler). Pace was a 9:47 average, with some decent splits: 9:50, 9:30, 10:10, 10:25, 10:45 and 10 even. I'd read earlier that a recent study finds your heart is best served by doing about 20 miles a week at a pace between 8:30 and 10 per mile — this avoids too much wear and tear — so it's time to officially erase the shame from Monday.

I can only reminisce about running, with this heat

Unsurprisingly, I'm no fan of the past few days' heat wave.

I am glad to say, however, that I took advantage of the ample warning to work in a few runs before the wave hit. And I'm even happier to say that the three most recent runs were straight-up wonderful.

Saturday, I finished work and dinner while there was still plenty of light to hit the streets without fear. I picked a 4.5-mile route, to take advantage of the lovely late evening weather, and did something I might never have done before: extend a run simply because I felt so strong. Even after the extra mile, I could've kept going — I stopped for reasons other than fatigue (increasing darkness, interest in preserving motivation for the next day, etc.).

My splits: 10:16, 9:40, 9:20, 9:30 and 9:50. Nice, slow start; several sub-10:00 miles; average pace of 9:28. That run was the farthest, and possibly the fastest, one I've done since the May 20 half marathon. The only complaint I have about it? I couldn't just jaywalk (jayrun?) across the final street before my complex, because a police car was waiting across the same intersection.

I missed running Sunday, but that might've been a blessing in disguise — I was that much more determined to head out Monday and Tuesday. Both days, I faced the serious hill on Westown Parkway that crosses Interstate 35.

To help you imagine the duration and incline of this hill, I played a little game with my speedometer one night as I drove home from work. Going west on Westown, if I'm doing the speed limit of 35 mph and take my foot off the gas when I reach the flat top of the hill, I can approach 45 mph, just coasting, past where it levels off on the western side of the interstate.

And remember: I run this stretch in the opposite direction. Now that I know it's there, I could avoid it, but I'm just dedicated enough to running to take pride in not dodging every single hill. Hence my Monday route — head to the hill, run over it, double back to a certain point, and repeat.

I'm not saying it was easy, but I will say that I did my two hills without stopping midclimb, without swearing and without breaking down. I'll do it again, and I'll add more repeats. Speed intervals are a struggle for me, since I'm terrible at pacing myself, but maybe I can stick with some hill work.

For sure Monday's effort made Tuesday's more mentally bearable; I picked a four-miler that led me across the same beastly hill (but of course, only once!). It felt better than it looks on paper or on the screen: 10:00, 10:05, 10:15 and 9:40.

During that 10:15 stretch, I do remember taking a walk break, which was a little bit of a disappointment as I hadn't had to take a deliberate walk break up to that point — only a pause to take a photo or wait for the traffic light to change. It must've been a well-deserved one, though, if I cranked out a 9:40 pace after it.

I hope to sneak in a run or two in the next few days, even though my weather widget has nothing but the low 90s through Tuesday — I do, however, have my two early-start-early-finish days over that stretch, which should allow for evening (not night) runs. Or, even crazier, maybe the 100-degree-plus heat indexes will make the 90s feel tolerable?