A practice 5K on my day off.

Today was a furlough day. In California we are facing a state-wide budget crunch, so the state has given school districts less money. It has also given them permission to provide fewer days of instruction, thus allowing them to give teachers days off with no pay: a furlough day. I think we have seven this year, equal to a 3 1/2% reduction in yearly salary. But I have to say, I'd rather have days off with no pay, than the same number of days for the same pay. At least this way is fair. (Except the kids lose seven days of instruction.)

So this furlough day is an extra day off for me. So what did I do with it?

Well, for starters I did an experiment. Since I've signed up for a 5K walk/run, I decided to see if I could do one. Last night, I found a course: here. I printed myself a copy. Got up the next morning. Ate breakfast. Showered. Put on my running gear, including my new shoes. And drove to the "starting line."

Then I drove the course, and since it followed city streets,  I made some mental notes about mile markers. 1, 2, and 3 mile markers fell in nice places.

I started out walking. I wanted to be conservative. I thought I could walk at least at a 3 mile per hour pace, which would put me at one hour for the course. I set out briskly, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that much of the course had a dirt path (crushed granite) alongside the sidewalk. I also did the 1st mile in 16 minutes. The first mile was mostly flat, but the second mile was slightly uphill. I tried to keep the pace up, and I finished it right at the 32 minute mark. The rest was downhill!

I wanted to see if I could run for a minute, so I did. It's about 130 steps going slightly down hill. I walked some more, ran a few more times, and finished the last mile in 13 minutes, for a baseline Personal Record (PR) of 45 minutes. Woo-hoo!

I did a cool down walk and stretch afterward, and then I drove home. I logged my miles and time in my runner's log, and thought I'd chronicle my latest chapter here. So I did.

This is my ** happy dance **.

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Lao-tzu

Runners Run Races?

Recently I posted this on FaceBook:


‎"...the difference between a runner and a jogger is a signature on a race application." (Dr. George Sheehan) Now race applications are signature-free and on-line, but my name is being put on one: the CSUF iCare Festival's 5K Run/Walk. My daughter Joanna is the instigator... supporter... and sponsor of this event for me. April 21st, 2012... here I come! One of my mottoes from the early '70s: "Behold the turtle! He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out." 40 years later, I'm still making progress... and I'm still sticking my neck out.

So it's official... I'm going to run in an organized running event. I'll be lining up in the rear. My goal will be to finish. Whatever my time is... it will be my Personal Record (PR). A new baseline for a new chapter in The Life and Times of Don Evans (a book with a very small readership, but very important to me!)

I already had a training schedule. I have the shoes. And now I have a race date: April 21st. My daughter noted that the date is a week or so after Tax Day, which marks the eight week threshold that 80% of beginning runners don't reach. I'm trying to be part of the other 20%. 

I'm on week three of my running journey, and the race comes as week eight will be beginning. 

John Bingham, a runner and writer, says of himself, "

"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start."

Change requires courage. There is always a risk of failure. But then... the main goal is to show up, prepared, and to be glad that I'm fit enough to undertake my first "race" in over  40 years. That's what I'm shooting for. 

And it feels good to be on the road to my 2012 dream: I choose to be in charge of my habits. I let it be easy.

Running: Week Three -- Reflections

Toward the end of my previous blog I noted this:

I'm on a new journey of fitness, discovery, and self-mastery. I'm living my dream for 2012: "I choose to be in charge of my habits. I let it be easy." Running is a part of that dream. 

Being in charge of my habits is the dream. Improved fitness is the result of improved habits. Improved habits is the result of discovery and self-mastery.

I've discovered a few things over the past week:

1) I'm more out of shape than I thought. 

2) My joints (especially my ankles) are a potential weakest link, and they require strengthening.

3) Muscles can be transformed quicker than joints, so I need to progress at the rate of joint health.

4) Running for life requires a balanced training program.

5) A balanced training program requires attention to cardio, strength, balance, and flexibility. 

6) A balanced training program also requires built in time (patience) for recovery.

7) I have accumulated sufficient knowledge and equipment to build a balanced program.

8) Improved fitness is a day-to-day way of life that needs to be savored and enjoyed: the journey needs to be fun!

9) Logging miles (in a spreadsheet) is validating.

10) Firing up my metabolism once a day, if not twice a day, will help me to burn more calories, especially the fat ones. ;-)

One of the other habits I wanted to improve was my independent reading. As a side effect of becoming a more knowledgeable runner... that is happening as well. 

Ain't life grand?

New Label: Running

I'm in the process of building a new habit. I'm becoming a runner.

I've already become one in my mind, and my day-to-day routine is now two and a half weeks into the new habit.

I'm run/walking three days a week: Saturdays, Mondays, and Wednesdays. Tuesdays and Thursdays are cross-training days for strength (but not legs). Fridays and Sundays are for stretching and/or Pilates. That's the plan, and so far so good.

My New Year's affirmation is "I choose to be in charge of my habits. I let it be easy."

Fitness is nothing more than the result of habits, mostly involving exercise. So I've decided to let it be easy.

I'm using Psycho-Cybernetic's visualization techniques to create a new image: Don the Runner. (He's fit. He can run 30 minutes at a time, three days a week. At 60, he looks back and says, "It was in February of 2012 that I began to run. That's when I became a runner.")

I've done about a dozen run/walks so far. Too many the first week. Now I'm learning. I bought some new shoes: running shoes. My first pair ever. (Though I did buy some trail running shoes once. I tried that until I sprained an ankle.)

This time... I'm going to try to be smarter.

I picture myself on Tax Day (April 15th) running. Why?

To avoid becoming this statistic: "80% of runners stop after 4 weeks!"  But 20% don't quit. I intend to be the one out of five who doesn't quit.

So, I'm beginning a new label: Running. This is the first entry. I've been providing a bit of a running commentary over on FaceBook, but I decided to move some of that "chatter" over here, where I can muse on.

I'm on a new journey of fitness, discovery, and self-mastery. I'm living my dream for 2012: "I choose to be in charge of my habits. I let it be easy." Running is a part of that dream.

If I can master my habits... What then? I don't know, but Dr. Seuss gives me some clues:

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself 
any direction you choose. 
You're on your own. 
And you know what you know.
And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go....

Dr. Seuss, Oh! The Places You'll Go!

I used a table saw!

I am a self-taught handyman. No offense Dad.

My dad could fix a TV (back when you had to test bulbs), but that's all I can ever remember him fixing. He could also install drape rods which he did to help my mom in her home business. I think he may have used an old hand-me-down drill that his older brother gave him. That drill, which still mostly works, is in my garage now. I used it just last week. I used it to drill lead holes before I used my other new drill to drive screw into boards onto a fence I installed. Yes, I installed a fence!

The fence came in panels, and I hung them on metal posts. I recently added an extension of the fence across my driveway which creates a nice little patio outside of my garage where I've set up my new BBQ.

The fence across the driveway required two gates, which required angled braces. It's hard to cut good angled braces by hand, although it's just a cut through a two-by-four. I decided to attempt to use a table saw that sits in a corner of my garage, a table saw my son, who lives in Canada, inherited from his wood working Grandpa Ken.

Well, I used some cool clamps, also inherited, and made my four cuts. They are nice, and for an hour or so my garage reeked of the manly scent of fresh cut lumber. (And my gate hangs better now.)

Life is a POOGI, an Eli Goldratt term meaning Process of On Going Improvement. Lately, my improvements have included learning table saw 101.

Go me!

Lessons at the Bathroom Sink (Four generations.)

When I was about 12, I remember watching my dad shave. He must have had his wallet nearby, because I asked him, "Dad, why does your drivers' license say that you have dark brown hair?"

"Because I do, Son."

"Hmmm... more salt-and-pepper as you say."

"Hmmm... Be quiet son."

And so I learned a lesson from my dad, who was in his late 30's at the time. Time moves on, hair color may change, self-perception may lag behind.

* * * * *

Recently my grand-daughter informed me, while we looking at old photos, "Grandpa, you used to have brown hair!"

"Hmmm... Yeah, it's more salt-and-pepper now." (Getting heavier on the salt, I must say.)

So I'm wondering, Grey hair must weigh a lot because when I had brown hair, I weighed 25 pounds less!

* * * * *

My two year old grandson has an age-appropriate habit of putting his finger in his nose. Recently, as he was sitting on my lap, he started aiming for mine. I love the little booger, but... some things are private!

During an inattentive lapse, he got what he was after, but it wasn't my nose, it was my mustache. He likes feeling it.

* * * * *

Once upon a time, when my 32 year old daughter was closer to two, she used to visit with me while I shaved before going to work. One day, I shaved off my mustache. She was alarmed! "Shave it back on," she pleaded.

Just for fun, I used to put some lather on her cheeks and "shave" it off with the back side of my razor.

* * * * *

Good times and memories around the bathroom sink, facial hair, and salt-and-pepper hair. I wonder what stories they will tell?

Grass Stains and Grey Hair

I turned 58 last November. I teach math. 58 rounds to 60. Yikes!

Now I'm an optimist, but I've got to say that I'm thinking that I'm getting toward the end of middle-aged.

But the echoes of my youthfulness are still evident: I occasionally get grass stains!

Over Christmas, my son was in town, along with my son-in-law's brother. Both of these guys are in their very early 30's. (Wow. Don't tell them, but that could be a boundary of the beginning of middle-aged.)

From my view point, they're young men, so when we set up a volleyball net on the park lawn across the street from my house, I was all in. I love volleyball. I own a nice grass court net, complete with lines. But my volleyball is old and cracked. Aged. (Not to worry. They had one.)

We played 3 against 2. Luckily, or by design, I was on the team of 3. We lost most, if not all the games, but we were competitive, and my son-in-law's brother commented when it was all over, "Wow, Don. You've still got a lot of play." It was a compliment, even if the implication was, "You've got a lot of play (for an old guy)." But this "old guy" had blocked several of his spikes, and dug a few balls via diving plays complete with rolls. (That's how I got the grass stains: my badge of lingering athleticism.)

I was feeling good about ageing. Older but wiser. Cagey. Still able to hold my own on a court of some sort.

A week or so later, while I was musing on a piece I'd call "I've got grass stains on my shorts!" I spent some time with my five-year-old grand-daughter. At one point in the afternoon, she pulled out some old photo albums of her mom, my daughter. As we're seeing the pictures of her "younger" mom, Rachel says to me, "Gee, Grand-pa, you used to have brown hair."

I thought, "Now I don't?"

I remember reading on my dad's driver's licence, "Hair color: Dark Brown."

I remember saying, "Gee, Dad, when did you have dark brown hair? It's really more salt and pepper, heavy on the salt." (Or words to that effect.)

Now, the shoe was on the other foot. (And is he laughing in his urn?)

"Yes, Rachel. I used to have brown hair."

And later I mused, a bit on the depressive side, "I'm going to get old and die." (A bit melodramatic, but actually, quite accurate. It's the way things work.

It took a while to get back to balance: "I may be getting older, but I'm enjoying the journey."

A week or two ago, I played "jump-the-ditch." Last week, I played jump rope. I got some new grass stains, but I quit before I hurt myself.

And my driver's licence says: Hair: Brown. and Weight: 195 and Height: 6' 0". One of those three descriptions are still accurate. The shrinking hasn't started yet... or has it?

Well, at least I can still mow my own lawn. And play a little jump rope. And get an occasional grass stain.

Look out lawn: here I come!