Toe Painting Anyone???

While I’ve got my work cut out for me on the training front, there are a host of other facets to this adventure…and reaching my fund raising goal is one of those.  Like I said way back in this blog, I set a steep goal in hopes it would spur the creative juices.  What I didn’t consider was that I only have so much time and as many hours as I am spending out there on the road, bandwidth for anything else is rather narrow.

The road time does provide ample time for contemplation, however, and I came up with an idea to try and drive donations during my eight miler this afternoon.  I confess it is schmaltzy, but figure there’s little downside --- if a single person takes me up on this gimmick it is more dollars to fight diabetes.

 Below is a picture of the readout from today’s run, compliments of the download from my Garmin Sports Watch:

The “Neighborhood” canvas

This is my neighborhood, which is spread through a golf course and all those roads traced by the bold red line are all of the “low traffic” options I have for running.  Even though this doesn’t look like anything (except perhaps an extra-long spaghetti noodle?), the thought occurred to me that I could plot my runs to try and render a drawing of something.  The notion probably popped up because I will be running anywhere from 22-26 miles every Saturday until the fifty miler in July…and those distances permit drawing a rather long line!

Below are two more potential “canvases” --- the first displays the neighborhood where I run in Dayton when I make my monthly trip back to the home office. 

The “Ohio” canvas, the general area I run when I travel to HQ every month…what could you make with that circle in the upper left???

And even though you can’t really see the roads too well because I panned back to point out the screen includes distance and pace (this run was 16.3 miles at an 8:58 pace…if you can make it out), wanted to show roadways along the direction I usually head for runs greater than10 miles.

The “Carolina Beach” canvas – this was a 16-mile run down to Carolina Beach State Park.  If I cut out the little jog at the top it could be a golf club after you flubbed that chip shot!

The last canvas displays the area north of my neighborhood with the route I follow for my ten mile run.  This is in basically to show there are a lot of roads and when I start running twice as far there’s plenty of canvas…

The “Monkey Junction” canvas – the name of my neighborhood and areas north…lots of potential!

So here’s the deal.  In return for a donation I will try to trace your requested image by running it out and e-mail you the resulting screen shot.  If you pledge enough I’ll entertain distance requirements (e.g., 26 miles for your “marathon rendering”) and perhaps a minimum pace (you might have to pony up serious bucks, if you want me to run fast, though!).  What do you think?  Yeah, a bit cheesy, but this could be the start of a whole new medium à TOE PAINTING.  I suspect it will be every bit as attractive as finger painting and is interactive since you need to specify what you want rendered by my toes.  Let's not forget that your ownership of one of the earliest works in this new medium could reap impressive yields once this catches fire, lol.  Even if that dream doesn’t materialize, rest assured there will be a splendid return on investment from the benefits your donation reaps for diabetic research!

If you'd like me to take a stab at something, please leave a comment or e-mail me at vances@ec.rr.com.

No butts about it…

Happy to report I cranked out the entire 9.4 miles on Sunday to make it another forty mile week.  It was at a slow pace, but sun and heat have returned to North Carolina and it was already toasty when I hit the road around 10:30AM.  Still glad that I didn’t feel whipped like I did on those back-to-back runs while training for the marathon – that’s a huge benefit of the new, relaxed pace.

You might suspect I am a glutton for punishment as I opted out of the scheduled rest day and ran another eight miles Monday evening.  The motivation, however, was medical in nature.  If you happen to be a doubting Thomas and don’t believe I am attempting this ultra-marathon in celebration of reaching fifty years of age, please know the reason for bumping the run up is because I have a colonoscopy Wednesday morning!  And believe me, there’s no way I would volunteer for such a procedure unless cracking the half century mark required it…

The plan was for 4 miles, 8 miles and another 8 miles over Tuesday – Thursday, so after yesterday’s eight I’ll get the four in over lunch today.  After that I have to start up all “medication” to prepare me for tomorrow’s procedure and I don’t think I wanna be too far away from facilities when that begins…no butts about it.

Will have to ask the doctor tomorrow whether I’ll be able to run eight miles the day after, but I suspect that will be cool and afford a rest day before the 22-miler Saturday morning.

Successfully launched a new listening program during yesterday’s eight miler à I’ve been remiss about devoting time to learning French but made up a play list that had some lessons mixed in and it worked beautifully!  Will continue to mix the audio lessons in with tunes and we’ll see whether or not I can learn French on the run…

Born to Run

Caren, a good friend from Maine, recently presented me with an apropos gift, Christopher McDougall’s book, “Born to Run”.  Took a few chapters to get a groove, but I found this to be a remarkable story around ultra-running – the central theme is a refreshingly human story, buttressed with a lot of information I am now trying to validate.  One of the disturbing revelations was that modern sneakers, by virtue of cushioning your feet so effectively, set runners up for knee injuries, etc.

This news has me concerned that I am running my body into oblivion, but there are so many runners out there who don’t seem to have suffered irreparable harm that I trudge on…although I have adopted some techniques suggested by the book.  I am trying to run with a more erect posture and taking shorter strides.  This seemed to serve me well through week two of the serious new regimen to prepare for the fifty mile run coming up in July.

The setting was Dayton, Ohio, as I was in town for work all week.  At my reserved pace I managed to eke out a bit extra for the Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday trio which becomes de rigueur for the next fourteen weeks.  Took eight miles to nine on Tuesday, six to six-and-a-half Wednesday, and four to five on Thursday.  The motivation was to hit a total of forty miles for the week, which is only scheduled for thirty-six.

Today I was back at home and ran a ten mile route, but didn’t extend things due to a backlog of accumulated chores to tackle.  Tomorrow wraps the week with an eight miler and we’ll see whether I am up to extending that to 9.4 miles and achieve the stretch goal.  I’m not too concerned about achieving the bonus miles, partly because of the concern around over-training, although the point seems to be logging miles now and at my relaxed pace it doesn’t strike me that I’m stressing myself.

Dawn of a New Regimen

First long run of the regimen this morning.  Trod eighteen miles and I am oddly psyched for the new challenge.  Ran pretty slow, but I’ve abandoned concerns over pace and it is a good thing à my Garmin Sports Watch died at mile fourteen.  Guess it is working overtime with all of these miles I’m accumulating and I will need to be mindful of keeping it charged!

Weather forecast was crappy for today and so I abandoned a run down to Carolina Beach, my cell phone, and my i-Pod.  Leaving the cell phone behind had me wary of straying too far from home and I just did laps around the neighborhood, which was actually fun because I crossed Kim and Rain out for a walk at miles eight and nine.  J

Thus far the mileage for week one is 37.5, about the maximum I ran during marathon training.  Tomorrow Kim and I will be adding to that amount by running a 5K and I anticipate being a bit stiff, so the plan is to try and keep pace with her.  Don’t want to push it too hard and injure myself, though the short run should be a good entrée to the future --- from here on out I will be putting in ten miles each Sunday…typically after running a marathon Saturday!

Have I asked you to make a donation to my fund raiser?  Truly hope this effort attracts some dollars towards important research benefitting those with diabetes  and that web site again is JDRF Donations.

I should also mention that I set up a charitable association and if you don’t want to use the JDRF web site to make a contribution via credit card, you are invited to make a check out to ULTRA FUND RAIDER (note that it is not fund “raiser”) and mail it to:

Vance Stephenson

6047 Willow Glen Drive

Wilmington, NC  28412

I cannot express how much these contributions have meant so far…and it is quite possible I would have bailed on running the marathon without knowing some generous folks were supporting me.  To those who have donated so far, please know how grateful I am for the boost and the difference these funds will make in the lives of other diabetics.  Without past research I wouldn’t be around…let alone striving to run fifty at fifty!

Back-to-back-to-back

A whole new day has dawned for the running regimen.  Yesterday was my third consecutive day of running, and not too bad.  Stretched things out to eight miles, but since I am abandoning focus on time it isn’t so bad.  May be falling into a rut as I traced the River Road route for the third time in two weeks…but that makes for a convenient seven-or-eight mile circuit.

This had me go past the accident scene again, but in an attempt to slow things down I’m going to start packing along my camera and try to share the sights along my training runs.  This first image is a bit haunting, but an important reminder for runners and bikers that it isn’t terribly safe out there and caution is always advised.  My prayers go out to David and Trey’s family and by publishing this photograph I am hopeful of possibly erasing a similar tragedy in the future…

Live and in Concert!

So no more post-dated entries à finally current with the saga and things should be easier to follow from here on out.  Of course you won’t get a new entry every day, which was the motivation for stockpiling some stuff before I started publishing.  I thought nobody would follow the story without constant entries, but not too many folks seem to be following thus far, so I suppose there’s no loss.

And now for our first real time entry:

Completed a seven mile run Sunday morning at a snail’s pace, but it seems like I’ve been pushing too hard too early during the shorter ‘recovery’ runs so I was content to just cover some miles.  The route paralleled last Sunday’s jaunt, but this time there was no roadblock when I reached River Road.  It was sobering to pass the scene of the tragedy, particularly because two ghostly bikes were parked there (painted entirely white, including tires), labeled with the names of the father and son.  L

About a mile afterwards I ran right into a mass of bicyclists (roughly one thousand per local news sources) who were beginning a memorial ride and I actually got a bit teary running past this sad gathering (I was headed the opposite direction).  Really quite moving…

Monday evening I consulted some web sites my wife had passed along around training for ultra-marathons to create a new program now that my recovery period is officially over and HOLY CRAP!  I’m going have to start running my behind off.  I will tell you that I was always surprised at how little they made you run for the marathons – three days one week and four the next, with the greatest mileage in any single week around forty.

The new regimen is at an entirely different level.  I’ll be pounding the pavement five days every week and logging between fifty and sixty miles for stretches of three weeks, followed by a “rest” week that backs down to forty.  Have I mentioned I’m not gonna fret over how quickly I run any longer???

The runs are structured for three runs of medium length (four to twelve miles) Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday, with the big run (22-26 miles) on Saturday and usually another ten on Sunday.  So once again you don’t run anything close to what is required for the main event at one shot…but this time I’m not questioning the wisdom!

Was slated to run four and six miles yesterday and today, but turned in a bit more (4.6 and 6.4) in hopes of shaving a bit from Saturday’s eighteen.  I actually picked eighteen miles because the schedule was for twenty weeks and there are only fifteen weeks until game day.  Kim and I signed up to run a 5K together on Sunday morning so I don’t want to completely annihilate myself right before, although I can already sense the stiffness.

Didn’t run too hard, but probably a little harder than I intended and hopefully that won’t cause me grief when I set out for eight more miles tomorrow.  Goodness, each stage of this adventure is turning into its own mini-drama…

Double or Nothing

April 9^th, 2011.   A week of mediocre runs.  Seems odd that after wrapping up the half marathon and determining the marathon was sixteen weeks away, I plunged right back into regular training without a break.  Don’t recall this lingering ennui, but perhaps the marathon did truly drain my resources.

Had a thirty minute cruise on Tuesday and paced 7:50 miles, which I’m not complaining about, though things went the wrong direction afterwards.  An 8:15 pace for forty minutes on Thursday was well behind the achievement a week earlier and you’d think the reduction in miles would see me rebounding with vigor?  Friday was the first back-to-back session post-marathon…disappointing in spite of the anticipation that it wouldn’t be sparkling.  Paced out at 8:20 even though it was another thirty minute session…sheesh!

Seems a rescue mission is required for my confidence, because I’ve formulated the next hurdle on the long road to Reunion.  Perhaps in my next entry I will dwell upon recruiting efforts to secure someone to run with me in Le Grand Raid, which is proving another great challenge.  The most promising candidate recently has been Paul, who bowed out of Reunion but has proven to be a fountain of knowledge on long distance running.

I’ve probably got ten years on Paul, who is the youngest brother of a couple friends I ran around with years ago.  We never spent much time together due to the age difference, though we did hike the Knife Edge of Mt. Katahdin (another splendid hike that takes your breath away) a little over fifteen years ago.  Knowing Paul ran ultra-marathons, I got in touch several months ago to tempt him into Reunion.  Of course Paul has the nerve to be getting married this September, which has proven fatal to my designs --- despite the affinity for ultras shared by his bride-to-be.  The main reason Le Grand Raid got nixed is because they will “honeymoon” before the wedding by tackling in the TransRockies Run this August…during which they will run between 13 and 23 miles for six days straight!

Casting aside my disappointment over losing a pair of potential running mates for the main event, Paul enlightened me to take the next logical step in the progression to Le Grand Raid à signing up for a 50-mile this summer.  Several aspects of this appeal to me: I like the rough “double or nothing” escalation from half marathon to full marathon to fifty miles (and ultimately to 93), and; even if I never make it to Reunion, running a fifty mile race at the age of fifty has a nice element of poetry to it…

So the next decision is choosing one…and I was astonished at how many there are!  Paul is tapped into many resources and passed along a wealth of possibilities.  I was intrigued by options out west, but eventually selected the Finger Lakes Fifties in Central New York on July 2^nd.  Motivating factors are convenience on several fronts.  Recognizing how tense I was prior to the marathon, choosing something closer to home reduces complexity and affords one less thing to fret over, and the dates work well.  Vacation days for Reunion will pretty much bankrupt my vacation allotment and I should be able to accommodate the Finger Lakes Fifty by taking a single day off from work.  Better yet, Paul might actually join me for this one!

So once again I’ve doubled the miles and have three months to prepare.  Time to drag out the Frank Sinatra and start playing “High Hopes”…

Blessing Count

April 4^th, 2011.   Only ran three times last week as I continue with recovery mode, but fairly happy with the results.  Paced 7:45 for a thirty minute session on Tuesday and followed up with an 8:05 pace for forty minutes on Thursday.  Although I was only supposed to run four miles on Sunday I went 5.5 at an 8:25 pace.

Of course I intended to cover seven miles by running down River Road for a while.  As you might imagine, this road shadows a nearby river (the Cape Fear River) and attracts many bikers for its eight mile stretch without any intersections requiring a stop.  Better yet, there are bike paths on either side.  The fly in the ointment, however, is that the road twists with the river and because the speed limit is 55MPH most of the way, there are plenty of idiots who go too fast and cut into the bike paths as they jet along.

Spotted a police cruiser blocking River Road as I neared, and pointed to indicate to the officer standing there that I wanted to proceed on foot past his roadblock.  He shook his head and replied the road was closed, so I had no choice but head back for home.  Naturally I was annoyed that I was included in the ban, thinking it would be easy to sidestep an accident clean-up, until I read the paper the next morning.

Some guy was DWI and swerved into a father and son biking down River Road, killing both.  The real tragedy is that they had chosen to bike the road Sunday morning when traffic is sparse.  Although I shudder to think how close I tread to this sad incident, I will let you know that this cowboy takes no chances on River Road à an advantage of being on foot is that I can run against traffic (which I always do on River Road) and often veer off the bike path onto the shoulder to grant further leeway between myself and oncoming traffic.

This terrible news gives me pause to count blessings. Thanks to the fruit of diabetic research, not only am I existing beyond the age of 50…I am thriving and attempting an ultra-marathon.  Chasing that dream has subjected me to many pitfalls, but I have truly been blessed thus far and still able to strive towards this goal.  But the sobering fact of how quickly the fates may turn reinforces the precautions I take before each long run à if the unforeseen can wreak such havoc, I best ensure that I don’t lapse into hypoglycemia and tempt fate…

Recovery

March 27^th, 2011.    An enjoyable week of recovery from the marathon effort.  The leg muscles were really, really stiff Monday and it was tough to complete a thirty minute run over lunch.  Of course that was a mistake because I had dates screwed up – was supposed to have a rest the day after.  But as miserable as I felt during the slog, it certainly loosened things up a bit.  I could actually walk up and down steps afterwards!

No doubt about it though, I was clearly reveling in the joy of completing the marathon in decent time.  Things loosened up a bit on Tuesday and I went out for another thirty minute run Thursday, completed at an 8:15 pace so it felt like I was quickly getting back on track.  The recovery slid a bit today, however, as I only managed an 8:30 pace over a measly three mile jaunt.

I’ve read it can take six weeks to recover from running a marathon, but now I’m confronted with tackling a schedule to prepare for an ultra-marathon.  Plan is to sneak a bit more mileage than laid out in the official “recovery plan” from my marathon book…but nothing outrageous.

Marathon Man

March 20^th, 2011.    What a difference a day makes.  It is with unbridled joy I share the successful completion of the marathon this morning!!!  Even better, I completed the circuit in 4:05:29 --- a bit longer than the “pre-wrist” goal of four hours, but WAY better than I have been anticipating since then.

Haven’t seen the official times yet from the marathon folks, so this reported time is preliminary, per my Sports Watch (official “chip time” was 4:06:00).  But I’m willing to bet it is pretty much dead on and I was tremendously encouraged by the feedback it provided, revealing an astonishingly consistent pace.  During my long training runs, I typically had a few miles at eight minutes out of the gate, followed by pace degradation to near eleven minutes as the latter miles got tackled.  But for the marathon, my fastest mile (mile three) was 8:57 and my worst was 9:46, and that was the first mile, where the glut of humanity dictated speed.  Maintaining every mile within a one minute window was surprising!

Shooting for consistency was my only game plan, and I will tell you that it took a MUCH more disciplined effort to maintain the stride after mile seventeen.  Kim got up with me at 4:30AM to drop me off at the trolley to the start around 5:40AM and then waited for me near the finish – even though the last 3.2 miles were the longest damn 5K I had ever endured, seeing her smiling face at mile 23 inspired me to push on.

Another memorable moment involved my doctor (the one suggesting a half marathon in November and today’s race as a good way to train), who also ran the marathon.  He passed me around mile six, where I showed him the Hammer Gel I planned on eating after the first 10K à he has helped me reinforce eating before lapsing into low blood sugar during long runs.  I had a check-up just before the race and he shared that he was shooting for four hours, so I bid him adieu and thought that was aloha.  As fate would have it, however, I was passing folks the last few miles by virtue of not allowing my pace to slide and overtook him with just under two miles remaining.  As I passed by, my exclamation was that he’d have to sign my waiver for Le Grand Raid if I beat him, and that was the final inspiration to maintain a strong pace to the end!

Other impressions included how supportive everyone was.  Before the start I felt like a loner, walking briskly by my lonesome to stay warm, past small groups excitedly chatting about the upcoming challenge amongst themselves.  But once the starting gun sounded, people lined the streets throughout much of the course, even at 6:40AM when we started…everyone shouting encouragement and many clanging cow bells.  The number tags had your first name printed in large letters, so often I would catch a “way to go Vance, keep it up” while chugging along and I cannot tell you how motivating that was!

On the Downside

March 13^th, 2011.    The training program is winding down seriously, but I’m still suffering from concern over last Sunday’s debacle.  Only three runs this week and I was back in Dayton for the first two. Ran forty minutes on Tuesday (covered 4.7 miles for an 8:30 pace, okay but certainly some backsliding), and a final “tempo” run on Thursday with two ten minute sessions of accelerated pace.  Of course I also had sprints on Thursday and attacked them with vigor, trying to regain some confidence.

Today I only had to do six miles, but tacked on an extra half mile and completed the circuit at an 8:05 pace, so some good news there.  Of course speed has fallen off the pedestal as a concern and I am gripped by the fear that stamina is where my deficiency lies.  Since I won’t be doing anything of length before game day, I’ll strive to keep from dwelling on it and depressing myself.  Everybody is very encouraging and I received a few nice donations to my event this week, which goes a long way towards resuscitating the psyche.  Trying to keep the faith!

March 19^th, 2011.    Tomorrow is game day and leading up to it were three short runs this week.  Twenty minutes on Monday (ran a little over twenty minutes, covering 2.7 miles for a 7:50 pace), followed by thirty minutes on Tuesday (again ran a bit longer, covering 4.1 miles at 7:50 again) and Thursday (somewhat disappointing 8:05 pace for this last run).  Wrapped the training up with a final sprint session, which I pursued hard for a final attempt to improve my form.

I remain tense and worried that I will be unable to complete the marathon, though hopefully it comes down to the pace I maintain.  If I can keep the throttle down one would think I should endure, but who knows?  I was brimming with confidence a few weeks back, hitting a 9:00 pace for the sixteen mile route and extending the eighteen miler to 19.3, but I suppose breaking your wrist and undergoing surgery a few weeks beforehand isn’t among the recommendations in any marathon training guide.

Kim had another 5K this morning and that certainly bolstered my spirits.  She kicked butt, trimming five minutes off of her previous time!  Being immersed in all the athletes at the event and her triumph at the finish line was inspiring, but rapidly morphed into butterflies afterwards.

Had to drive to a resort near the start line after lunch to pick up my packet for the race, which did little to ease the tension.  Traffic was miserable, especially at the resort, and it took quite a bit longer than anticipated to get parked.  Fairly expedient picking up my tag and chip, although to get to your shirt you were forced through an expo of vendors (although Bill Rodgers was at one stand!) which proceeded slowly and with much badgering from hopeful salespeople.

Now there is little to do but watch the clock.

Oman? Oh, Man! Part XII: The Final Wrap

March, 2010.  Oman was an exquisite adventure.  Almost inconceivable that such a wonderful experience resulted from waylaid plans.  We scrambled to put together an itinerary after our original destination got pre-empted, but I can assure you the regrets are gone now.

My key impressions around Oman are that it is wonderfully receptive of visitors.  Other Arabic countries are difficult for female travelers, but I feel this is a haven in a notorious region.  That said, despite coming away with the impression that woman could travel here with far less hassle, what I read about the progressive treatment of Omani woman was not evident.  I don’t recall seeing many women walking around unaccompanied by males (ostensibly their husband) and most were veiled.  While Oman is certainly not as repressive as its neighbors, there remains a long way to go.

The most incredible facet of Oman was the wealth of interesting destinations.  We never grew weary of checking out another fort and there are hundreds beyond the handful we visited.  Natural beauty also abounds.  We scratched the surface over our two days with Naseeb, but there are beautiful wadis and amazing hikes around every corner.

So that brings me current with recent travels.  My hope is that it has provided some inspiration for you to get out and explore, particularly if you are diabetic.  I have had to pay attention to health concerns during these adventures, but the return on the investment has been truly astounding --- diabetes should never limit travel aspirations.

The brighter news is that from here on out this blog focuses strictly on Reunion and the current adventure…so this blog should be MUCH easier to follow!

Hitting the Wall?

March 6^th, 2011.   Ick.  A disappointing attempt at twenty miles this morning which leaves me questioning whether I am even up to completing a marathon.  Kicked off bright and early, despite another night of unrest (I am not getting quality slumbers these days as my wrist ends to stiffen up and wake me up several times every night).  I wanted to be off and running because the forecast augured rain showers moving in by mid-morning.  Though it was sunny and promising as I set off, after a half hour brisk rains began and would drench me for the next forty-five minutes.

Plugged away at running laps around the neighborhood and didn’t feel too bad until mile sixteen.  At this point my legs began feeling like lead, even though I had snacked recently – the only encouraging thing was that I had successfully timed my snacks and my mind and stride were functioning well.

I bailed at 17.5 miles and headed for home, not wanting to wind up too far away feeling like utter crap.  Ran past my house and well past in the opposite direction, but the lethargy continued and when I passed my house again at 19.4 miles I called it a day.  Did I hit the wall?  My understanding of “hitting the wall” was when your body was completely deprived of carbohydrates to fuel further effort.  Technically I would never reach that point because Type I diabetes would cause me to pass out before the fuel tank reached empty.  I’m a rookie at all this long distance running and so I don’t really know what happened, but it is a discouraging event right before the marathon.

Ran practically the same distance during eighteen miler (19.3 miles) and didn’t feel too bad…certainly not like I did the last few miles of this run.  Is it the layoff, the pain and fitful sleep, or perhaps getting soaked early on?  I’m praying the culprit won’t rear its ugly head again in two weeks and I’ve opted to take things much slower --- the four hour goal is officially history.

Not a good day…

Oman? Oh, Man! Part XI: Our Trip is in Ruins?

Saturday February 27^th, 2010.  It was our last day and we arose with serious feelings of regret.  We had packed a lot into our six day introduction to Oman, but everyone always made us feel so welcome that it would be difficult to leave.  There were two more sites we wanted to explore before breaking for the border and we started by bouncing around Ibri to locate the Ibri Fort.  We had no directions or address for the fort, just a vague idea where it was in the city – the forts typically towered over everything so we figured cruising the right neighborhood would permit us to catch a glimpse of the prize.

Fortunately John was behind the wheel.  He has an uncanny knack for ferreting this stuff out, and after I was ready to punt he exclaimed “ah-ha” and there was the fort!  The fort looked inviting, but since today was Mohammed’s Birthday we had back-to-back days of closed forts.  It was as massive as we imagined and I’m still not sure why we couldn’t espy it before John practically drove through it.  Once again there was an abandoned village abutting the fort, reinforcing how Omanis have walked away from tradition for modern architecture.

The final Omani destination was an “official” abandoned village.  Al Sulaif is a walled village on the fringes of Ibri that was only abandoned twenty five years ago.  Our guide book stated you might still find some old timers hanging out at the old souk in Al Sulaif (probably wondering why business was so bad, lol).

Al Sulaif

We did encounter somebody, but it was Afeef (or something close to that), an Omani who was a government employee and I guess provided free tours of the site.  He showed us a card indicating his government status and didn’t ask for money, but immediately launched into a tour of Al Sulaif.  Afeef pointed out many Arabic inscriptions and had cleverly set up his cell phone so he could recall text messages displaying the English translations.  Though his English was not very good, he was very energetic and accentuated his explanations with many gestures and frequent role playing.

When it got to be 11AM we informed Afeef that we had to go.  He appeared sad and replied “five minutes”.  Okay, we followed along and fifteen minutes later reiterated our need to depart.  “Two minutes” he replied.  At this point we started thinking that it must be pretty boring standing out in the sun all day waiting for a random visitor to entertain (Ibri isn’t a hot spot).  When Afeef was reduced to exclaiming “one minute” we declined and departed.

Our tour with Afeef was a poignant conclusion.  The people we had interacted with in Oman consistently went out of their way to assist you and I’ve never felt so genuinely welcome.  We bade Afeef farewell and gave him a small tip, the trip was done.

Afeef enlightens us about Al Sulaif

Only the drive back to the UAE remained, and shortly we returned to the desert environment, leaving the Hajar mountains behind.  Our entry back into the UAE would be via Al Ain this time and things had changed from six years ago.  After displaying passports at a border post we were instructed to park and enter a nearby building.  Here John and I received eye scans, although Mark got exempted.  The eye scan is part of a program to identify aliens who have been expelled from the UAE and attempt to get back in.  It was an interesting and painless procedure.

In Al Ain we enjoyed lunch at a Lebanese BBQ joint, but how odd to be back in the UAE.  The contrasts between the two countries received a serious exclamation point here.  I was struck that this diner had the separate men’s area and family area (where women or husbands with their family dine).  Although I had been disappointed that women weren’t being treated as equally in Oman as I had anticipated, the return to the UAE reinforced Oman was certainly more proactive on this front than most Arabic countries.

Another disparity was a bit selfish.  I relished the presentation of complimentary trays of vegetables when dining in the UAE, but only when they placed a basket brimming of olives, hot peppers and hummus on our table did I realize this had been entirely absent in Oman.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder and this meal compelled me to curtail my complaints of too much hummus…..

Samia, Mark and Maya on the American University of Sharjah campus

Didn’t get back to Mark’s home in Sharjah until after 3PM, so John and I quickly showered and re-packed for the return flight beginning in a few hours.  Ready to roll, Mark, Samia and Maya took us for a quick tour around the American University of Sharjah.

What a treat to see Mark’s endeavors realized.  Six years ago the Student Center was a construction jungle and the College Library little more than a massive hole in the ground.  Today these were immaculate beauties and I was happy to enjoy Mark’s pride in completing these massive efforts.

The Blue Souk in Sharjah

But no time to dally, it was off to the Blue Souk and this was just like my first visit, a rush-rush shopping spree before the return flight home.  Once again we battled traffic into the souk, but once again arrived with sufficient time for shopping.   There is no way to describe the confidence I have when shopping with Samia and I happily entered the familiar pashmina merchant’s shop.  We didn’t sit for tea this time, but entered directly into negotiations and came away with some beautiful scarves.

Immediately we steered to Samia’s jeweler in search of black pearls.  Last trip I had purchased pure gold jewelry for my wife from the Gold Souk and wanted to get something different this time.  Dubai has a long history of pearl diving, so that seemed ideal.  Samia’s jeweler had plenty of black pearls, but the size and coloring varied considerably.  No worries – just pick out a long strand and he would create a matching set of necklace, bracelet and stud earrings on the spot!

This final stop reinforced my notions of how gracious people are in this place are.  Manufacturing all of our items real-time wasn’t a cakewalk and after an hour Samia told Mark he should take Maya away to get something to eat.  Our jeweler raised his hand to signal they should stay put and grabbed his phone while continuing to work.  Within five minutes a guy walked into the shop with a glass of juice and sandwich.  Just unbelievable.

A string of pearls…

On our way out of the souk Mark suddenly realized he had forgotten to ask for a pearl that Maya could put in the jewel box necklace he had gotten Maya in Nizwa, and Samia and Maya both raced back to the jeweler’s shop, returning moments later with the gratis pearl.  Just astonishing.

Back in the Saddle

March 4^th, 2011.   Yesterday I reported back to the orthopedic doctor to get the cast removed (not really a cast, more like a glorified ace bandage that stiffened up).  The first step was a new set of x-rays to assess progress.  Everything seemed to be going well, at least to the doctor’s experienced eye…only looked like I had a bunch of new hardware in my arm (there is a plate and eight pins, fortunately all titanium so I shouldn’t trigger any metal detectors).

Freed from bondage, my hand was stiff, swollen and turning black and blue.  The doctor stressed my upcoming physical therapy would involve stretching exercises that would result in a lot of popping and snapping noises I shouldn’t be disturbed by, and then started aggressively manipulating my wrist in all directions.  Forget the popping noises, this had to be the most painful episode of my entire life and I had to remain sitting for a minute or so afterwards to avoid passing out.

Having the wrist immobilized for ten days after getting all sliced up in surgery apparently results in spurious tissue growth that binds everything up…and my physician was getting me back towards square one by busting up the unneeded bondage.  In hindsight I’m glad he didn’t advise me what he was going to do and just get it over with, but goodness did it have me seeing stars.

Regardless, I was granted access to runways again and lost no time climbing back in the saddle.  After lunch I went out for five miles, which I managed to complete in 41:20 for an 8:17 pace.  Respectable, but clearly a retreat and the pace didn’t come easily as it had two weeks back.  Beyond the layoff, this latest debacle has been somewhat traumatic and I confess to paying much greater attention to footfalls since the last thing I needed was to fall and require my wrist to ‘break’ another fall!

I was armored, however à Kim and I stopped at Dick’s Sporting Goods to get a wrist brace that was mandated by the doctor before hitting the road.  Even though equipped with this protection, contemplating a fall made my tummy churn all through the run…

The monkey wrench tossed in from two weeks on the sideline has me scrambling to determine an appropriate running program for the last two weeks.  Though I should be on the downside of training, I followed yesterday’s run with a fifty minute session today.  Covered 5.9 miles for an 8:30 pace, a retreat from the 6.2 miles and 8:05 pace during the preceding fifty minute session, but this was a back-to-back session and with all the other issues I felt pretty good about things.

So Sunday I will attempt to fulfill the twenty mile course, though I won’t be running down to Carolina Beach and placing myself eight miles away from home at the furthest point.  Rather, I am just going to run laps around the neighborhood so I will never be more than two miles from our doorstep.  Given the pain I am still in and uncertainty around whether or not I am up to the challenge leads me to conclude this as a prudent plan.

Despite realizing my running guide stressed that any missed runs were not to be made up, it seems foolhardy to not even attempt something in the ballpark of a full marathon.  This is chiefly a diabetic concern and even if this causes a worse time for the marathon I would rather gain experience at keeping myself properly fueled for the long hauls.  I’m already cringing in anticipation of an awful pace…but so be it.

Over lunch today I met my physical therapist and was introduced to the routines I will need to perform every other hour for the next several weeks.  Some of these are quite painful but I am scrupulously following details to steer towards a complete recovery.  Have to express that I’ve been in considerable pain for some time now and it is draining.  The entire build-up to the marathon where I’ve been driven to prepare and turn in a good time has been replaced by a simple wish to put this test behind me…

Oman? Oh, Man! Part X: Goat Rodeos and Beehive Tombs

Friday February 26^th, 2010.  Buffet breakfast at the Golden Tulip was almost elegant, except John was with us.  For his morning cup of joe, John grabbed a cereal bowl and practically emptied an entire urn of Arabic coffee into it ---inventing Arabic Super Sizing…

We checked out and headed into Nizwa, bound for the Friday Market at the famous souk here.  The Nizwa Market is a glorious collection of souks:  a fruit and vegetables souk, a meat souk, a date souk, a fish souk and others all adjoining.  Friday morning they hold a goat market and things get rather chaotic.  We pulled up around 10AM, just as the goat market was closing down.

Talk about a goat rodeo!  Cars attempted to stream into the parking area from all directions, but merely stacked up because of all the folks attempting to load the morning’s livestock purchases onto vehicles.  Goats and cattle milled about everywhere, very similar to all the cars paralyzed in the gridlock.  Mark dropped John and me off to congregate later inside the sprawling marketplace.

The Nizwa souk is a magical place, countless alleyways and aisles crammed with merchants and their piles of wares.  It is very old and you feel as though you’ve stepped back into time as you stride past bags of spice and counters of silver and gold.  Deep within the bowels of the souk we actually came across a guy raising a bucket out of working water well.

There was a jewelry merchant we struck up a conversation with and everyone made several purchases.  The cutest piece was a necklace with a tiny jewel box on it that Mark bought for his daughter.  Our jeweler embodied the honesty of all the other merchants we had bargained with, always letting you know which silver pieces were pure by saying “92.5” (for 92.5% silver) or “not 92.5”.

We emerged from the souk at the Nizwa Fort, which was closed (Friday being the holy day), but took a few pictures and then everyone purchased a mussar at a shop near the fort. The merchant tied the head scarves on us, so at least for today we somewhat resembled the locals and I snapped a photo of the three O-migo’s, lol.  By then it was one o’clock and things were rapidly shutting down so we returned to the car, grateful that the parking lot was practically deserted now.

The three O-migo’s…

Mark spotted a lunch spot with outdoor seating that was serving shi-sha and we ducked in to afford John the opportunity of smoking a water pipe.  Our waitress spoke zero English and there were no menus, so it was a bit of a challenge getting everything ordered, but persistence paid and it was another positive experience.  The restaurant was packed with locals, almost everyone smoking shi-sha and playing dominos, a handful playing backgammon.  John got right into the groove of shi-sha, a broad grin revealing his delight.

Bahla Castle was next on the list.  Bahla is the next town down the road from Nizwa, and even though it is not open to the public, Bahla Fort is the only Omani fort on the UNESCO World Heritage List.  This expansive structure was begun around 1000 B.C., easily the oldest fort in the country.  Despite there being no chance at seeing the interior, the exterior of Bahla Fort is breath taking.  We were taking the fort in but wound up getting sucked into the adjacent area, another abandoned old town.  These sections of run down mud brick structures weren’t completely deserted, as the occasional clothes line or satellite dish attested, but for the most part it would be several blocks of abandoned buildings.  The unfamiliar and exotic architecture was very appealing and quite fun to explore.

Bahla Fort

Another ten minutes down the road we stopped at Jabreen Castle, yet another enticing fort.  Jabreen was the very first fort to be restored by the Omani government and the inside is reputed to be spectacular.  Friday wasn’t shaping up to be the best day to tour forts, but once again the exterior was worth the time investment.

We were heading towards Ibri, where we had reservations for the night, and our final target on the way there was another UNESCO World Heritage Site, the beehive tombs of Bat.  These diminutive stone huts which shelter group burial sites are exceedingly old.  Research dates the earliest tombs back to 3000 B.C. and their resting spot in the Hajar mountain range has allowed them to withstand the ages remarkably well.

Beehive Tombs outside of Bat

Unfortunately we got a bit lost in our search for Bat – none of the roads are signposted in Oman so it is difficult to be certain which road you are on.  John had taken over driving duties in Jabreen, however, and espied some tombs on a ridge beside the road we were on.  We pulled off the road and sized up how to get back there when an Omani working in the field noticed us and gestured how to zig zag through the wadi separating us from the tombs.  A magnificent setting, the tombs were highlighted by a backdrop of stark mountains and deep blue skies.  We spent about a half hour investigating this splendid area and even though it wasn’t the “official” UNESCO site, I doubt there is much difference.  Oman is basically a galaxy of cool things to explore.

There was still a bit of a drive to Ibri, but we eventually arrived at the Ibri Oasis Hotel, next to the local camel racetrack.  In all the restaurants and hotels the attendants seemed to be completely comprised of Omanis, but here the staff was mostly Indian.  We had a hunch that might impact the menu in the restaurant, and it certainly did.  In addition to a nice complement of Indian dishes, the menu had several Chinese and Thai options.

Beehive Tomb close up

It was our last night in Oman and we were tired, but Mark and I had one last town to fight over and I won another Spite & Malice duel.  Mark may have kicked my butt up and down Jordan, but I owned Oman!

The Impatient Patient

February 25^th, 2011.   So the marathon training has suffered a serious blow with this latest injury.  This was supposed to the ultimate L-O-N-G week in the program, about forty miles, with things winding down after that until game day on March 20^th.  But going in for surgery obviously clobbered that schedule.

In the back of my mind I would punt on the Tuesday + Thursday runs this week, then hit the road again Friday and still complete the twenty mile trot slated for this Sunday.  Didn’t see any issues because the Urgent Care physician had blessed the eight mile run with a broken wrist last weekend, and when I shared this tidbit with the orthopedic doctor Monday he just smiled and congratulated me on my pain threshold.  I accepted the lack of response as an okay that I could keep running after surgery, and there was no reference to activity levels in any of the post-op recovery material.

But the recovery has been more painful and stressful than anticipated, so I dialed the doctor up before setting off Friday.  It was just a 45-minute run and I wasn’t going to push myself, so I took off an hour after leaving a message with the doctor and getting no call back.  Fortunately I packed my cell phone, because Kim called me a half hour into the run with news that the doctor proclaimed an immediate cease and desist.

The word was “no running” until the check-up next Thursday.  So a two week layoff just as I should have been peaking…not a confidence booster.