Seen while running: Week of July 15

Today's "seen while running" post is a mix of imagery and actual images ... can't get the camera phone out for everything, nor should I, in some cases.

Someone's driveway decorations. My hometown isn't close to many big-name football universities. The college I attended? Let's just say that the few fans at games liked to taunt the opposition by yelling our ACT scores, not the football score. The passion for the Hawkeye-Cyclone rivalry is a fascinating and confusing thing for me to observe.

Seen, but not photographed: in the neighborhood south of my apartment complex, a car in a driveway with its backseat doors open.

When the smell of an Abercrombie & Fitch fought its way through the thick humidity and to my nose, I realized that the figures in the back of the car were likely teens trying to make out. Sorry for staring (or, as I wasn't wearing contacts, for squinting intently).

Another image that reminds me of home — Rock Valley College is our community college.

A poorly lit picture of drought. For comparison, see what Walnut Creek looked like before July 1 here.

Seen, but not heard: at dusk along the heavily wooded, winding Clive Greenbelt path, a biker who whizzed past and scared the crap out of me. The squeak of his bike reached me just as he did, without a single "on your left."

My high-pitched, breathless "oh gosh!" and melodramatic, yet involuntary, hand to my throat did not teach him anything, apparently. When I came upon walkers a few minutes later, I asked them whether they'd seen and/or heard the biker; one told me that she had to yell at him for his silent approach.

My foot, after a 6-foot-tall man wearing heavy boots stepped on my ballerina flat-clad foot. Note the bruise on the bunion joint. This, fortunately, did not impede my running.

Whoaaaaaaa, I'm halfway there!

This past Sunday, I broke the 500-mile mark for the year (that's running plus the walking I've been able to record), and I didn't even realize it until probably a day later.

It wasn't that I didn't know it was coming — at some point last week, I calculated the right-then mileage, and it was close enough where I thought, "Here comes 500!" ... and then promptly forgot.

My absent-mindedness probably worked in my favor here, however: I always want milestones to feel electric, to make me buzz with excitement, and inevitably that urge to note a special feeling means the moment falls flat. Guess I put too much pressure on the milestone.

Instead, the surprise of No. 500 gave me that sought-after jolt of accomplishment as I added up my previous-week and year-to-date mileage on Monday night.

Anyway, I notched 500 somewhere in the neighborhood south of my apartment complex during a nighttime run, so odds are good that I was focusing on not falling and on not running over any walkers (the sidewalks are normal-sized in this neighborhood, instead of extra-wide, as they are along some of the main roads in West Des Moines).

It was probably on the long, steady, slight incline, so I probably was also huffing and puffing and possibly swearing delicately. My overall effort that evening was strong, though: My splits were 9:43, 9:15, 9:30, 9:42 (is this it?) and 9:24. Not bad, considering the low light and high humidity.

Obviously, the title of the post is a reference to both the 1000 Mile Challenge and "Livin' On A Prayer." As I mentioned earlier, I'm unlikely to reach 1,000 miles, but I looked back at my 2011 wrap-up post to see how many running/walking miles I was able to record that year: 669, plus several outings during which I didn't have a tracking device.

So a few weeks past the year's halfway point, I'm at 75 percent of last year's total, and well on my way to surpassing the modest goal I mentioned in the early 2012 post (breaking 700 miles).

I'm pretty pleased with these numbers. They've come at a cost to my biking, of course, and a recent solo excursion has reminded me of what I'm missing, but next year's big adventure should compensate for that ...

A runner's heat index: Blessing or curse?

Yes, when I most recently blogged, I linked to a motivational poster that scolded runners who whine about the heat. So what am I gonna do today? Write about oppressive heat, of course.

One of the Runner's Digest entries on RW Daily linked to a tongue-in-cheek post titled "The runner's heat index." The author included a serious chart — one that combines temperature plus humidity to tell you how safe or dangerous running under certain conditions is — and suggested that math-savvy runners create one more specific to them.

Miss Zippy proposed a formula adding temperature, humidity, miles run, pace and time of day, possibly subtracting degrees depending on how hydrated you are. If I were actually qualified to build said formula, I'd drop time of day in favor of whatever figure measures sunshine (maybe UV index?) and the type of terrain. During yesterday's mid- to late-morning bike ride, it was remarkable how much different I felt on the forested parts of the Neal Smith Trail as opposed to the wide-open ones.

Which reminds me that wind — speed and temperature — would be other important variables in this now-very-complex equation. (I'd need to build an app where you just plug in a few numbers in order for anyone to use my hypothetical formula.) Thus far, though the humidity in Des Moines makes me perpetually droopy, the breezes around here are basically perfect: gentle and cool, as opposed to the fierce and blazing ones I encountered in the Rockford Half Marathon.

Joking aside, I think I'm glad I found this blog post. I say "think" because it doesn't exactly endorse some of the running-related decisions I've made.

For example, it confirms my decisions over the past two days not to run at all — highs were in the upper 90s, and it's safe to say the humidity was high enough to warrant "extreme caution" — and, over the past week or two, to run at night when the temperatures fall into the 80s.

But on the other hand, it's like a delayed scolding for runs that, while not resulting in heat stroke or heat exhaustion or dehydration, were technically ill-considered. Example: Fourth of July midmorning run. And let's face it, when you're a heat-hating, fair-skinned late-comer-to-running, do you need any more encouragement to sit on the couch?

I know, I know. Knowledge is power. Forewarned is forearmed. Always be prepared. Still, I can't help wanting to use that chart as proof of my toughness afterward, instead of arguments for joining a gym (UGH).

Web wrap-up: July 9 to 15

The bloggers I follow turned it up several notches last week — one link even got saved for a future standalone post!

I'll try to keep this short to encourage you to check out a post or two (or three ... etc.).

Another Mother Runner: Why I Run (Joan Markwell). Pretty much everything that Joan Markwell listed as reasons why she runs — the exception being "positive role model for my daughters — are ones that I share.

This one, though, I tend to forget, especially now when I'm meeting so many new people and having to talk about my interests:

"A sense of belonging — You are a runner. Repeat after me, 'I am a runner.' It feels nice and other people respect you for that no matter your pace, distance or outfit. Just making the effort makes you part of the club."

Gotta stop trying to qualify my hobby with "but I'm slow," "but I'm not competitive," "but no, I don't do or want to do marathons" or any other "but" statement!

RW Daily: Motivational Poster #28. This picture's 10 words are truly worth a thousand. Have I mentioned that I love Mark Remy?

Running Is Funny: Do Bosses Prefer Moms or Marathoners? Mike stumbles upon the most random and delightful articles. The one he references here is about women in the workplace, and the pertinent section has the author claiming that employers are likely to think of marathon-running employees as more dedicated, disciplined and hardworking than they would of working mothers.

If this is true — which Mike and I both doubt — I know what I'll be stressing in any future job interviews. Though the interviewer will only give me half the credit that I apparently deserve.

Another Mother Runner: Why I Run (Annet Maurer). Annet Maurer's lived all over and has picked up the language(s) everywhere she's been: Dutch (her native tongue), English, French, Swiss-German, Spanish and, she jokes, Australian. Those linguistic adventures — having to jump in and start from scratch — inspired her comparison of running as learning a foreign language; it's the third paragraph in the post, so you don't have to scroll far.

It's such a good analogy. I remember being so righteously outraged that I had to take gym class for most of my school career, thinking how unfair it was that I had to do something so difficult in front of people who found it so easy. (Side note: Who misses being a teenager? Not me.)

Did it ever occur to me, as I whizzed through French class or aced spelling tests, that other people were struggling with it and miserable and embarrassed by my comfort? Yeah, right. If I ever go back in time, one thing I'll be sure to tell my adolescent self is "get over it."

Running Is Funny: Hockey Writer Comes Up With Worst Marathon Analogy Ever. Some hockey writer wanted to make the point that the L.A. Kings' Stanley Cup victory doesn't mean the city will suddenly go hockey crazy and embrace the team (as, I'd like to point out, Chicago does and has for several years before the Stanley Cup win). So he made this statement:

"[It] reminds me of what people think when someone runs his or her first marathon. But contrary to popular belief, it means only that person has the fitness and endurance to run 26.2 miles. It doesn’t mean he or she can have another child, go back to school, change jobs or accomplish anything he or she tries."

One, does anyone truly believe that if s/he runs a marathon, s/he can turn water into wine or cure cancer? (I'd say no.) Two, wouldn't you think that the qualities necessary to train for and complete a marathon would assist someone in achieving the goals this guy rattles off?

But I digress. The point is that another blogger created a list of reasons why this hockey writer has such venom for marathon runners. Read them here.

Runner's Digest: 7.13.12. Olympian Michael Johnson posted an awe- and jealousy-inspiring photo to his Facebook account. Scroll to the bottom of this post to check it out.

Seen while running: Week of July 8

The sights were a little scarce last week ... time to start working in new terrain, or keeping the sweat out of my eyes more efficiently. My sweatbands aren't prepared to handle what a Midwest summer can do!

Seen along 60th Street. I hope this is some sort of road patching material ... or basically anything other than what it looks like. I didn't notice a smell — I'll say that at least.

Also on 60th Street. Looks like our family dog isn't the only critter who bounds through freshly poured pavement!

I also saw/overheard a belligerent man on his cellphone across the street from my apartment complex: "Are you retarded? I think you're mentally unstable. You shouldn't be driving," he was snapping, very helpfully, at someone who apparently was having some sort of car issues.

Usually I love eavesdropping, but this time I just felt bad for the person on the other end. Don't worry, I had no intention of intervening — I just put an extra spring in my step to finish the last quarter-mile and round a corner out of his sight.

Model runners

I have no illusions about how I look while I'm running: slow, sweaty, red-faced, white-bodied and probably grimacing.

Lots of other runners share none of these characteristics, it seems. Just today, I'm pretty sure I saw my 1970s-era Ken doll (immaculate hair, immaculate tan, immaculate muscle definition) gliding down my street.

But recently, I've stopped paying quite as much attention to their looks in favor of watching their gaits. Several months' worth of seeing panicky "are you striding wrong????" stories in my Google Reader account probably accounts for this.

And instead of feeling envious, like when I see sweat-free faces, I feel slightly uncomfortable — when people run, they look funny. Arms are sticking out from the body at 45-degree angles, instead of swinging smoothly; calves and feet move up and out, like they do while you're swinging on the playground ... limbs are moving in all directions, wildly, gracelessly.

Before the discomfort came the amusement — look at that clown! But, of course, I'd barely completed the smug thought that my arms rocked forward and backward smoothly, unlike crowd-clearer girl's, when the self-doubt interrupted.

Sure, when the going's good, I don't feel my body moving in strange, herky-jerky ways ... but that doesn't mean I'm not flailing like a kid at swimming lessons.

It occurred to me that I could settle the question of whether I look awesome or awful fairly easily. I could rope a buddy into recording me with my smartphone, and then I'd know if bikers were snickering at me as they passed me.

But it's like nutritional information on most desserts: Why would you want to know? It would either depress or discourage you.

I'll settle for being this image.

Making headlines

Ashlee, a friend and one of my Des Moines docents, shared happy news with me recently: The Road Runners Club of America designated my city as a Runner Friendly Community (one of four chosen in the second round of applications).

It didn't take me long to appreciate what was out here: wide, well-maintained sidewalks; easy access to extensive trails; money for upkeep (I've seen more closures for repairs in a month than I did in years of using the Long Prairie Trail); and frequent, clear signage (apparently a recent upgrade — more evidence that people in charge are paying attention).

And that's only a sampling of what Des Moines boasts for runners, according to the news release.

So glad to see national positive recognition for my adopted city, and that I can claim a tiny corner of said accolade ... not credit, but bragging rights and a sense of satisfaction each time I enjoy this runner-friendly land.