Craig's OTHER List: Delaware is Soiled!

We had a large garden in the house I grew up in and portions of the summer for my siblings and I were taken up by picking five gallon buckets of green beans as part of our chores. Man, did that suck. In the sun and humidity of Southern Ohio farm country, you could feel the sauna-like heat emanating from the massive cornfield that abutted our backyard. Do you know how long it takes to fill up a five gallon bucket with green beans....eons...EEE-OONSS!

A variety of tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, climbing beans and
scrabble cat chillin' in the shade.

As an adult, I don't mind playing in the garden. Though, most of the past few years my summer garden would grow wild - but nothing would produce fruit. A cruel joke on me as I put in the effort with no return other than piece of mind. I did, however, get my hop bines to produce enough to for one batch of homebrew. I'm assuming the poor soil at my apartment was the culprit behind my lack of garden production. Either that, or the f-ing green bean gods were just giving the finger for despising them as a child.

This summer, at the new place in Delaware, L and I have full reign of the large yard attached to our duplex. I don't know what the major difference may be, but holy crap....I could bury the tire iron in the trunk of my car and a seedling would somehow sprout. Nearly everything we've planted - flowers, beans, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, eggplant - has jumped out of the ground, celebrating freedom like someone who just broke out of prison. Even those same hop bines (dug up and taken with us during the move) are two times larger than the same period just one year ago.

Everything grows by bounds on a daily basis and having neighbors who aren't numbskulls (like my former place in Marion) meant we would have a number of folks to share the bounty with. Having planted some things around an old tree stump and our place having been a single family dwelling at one time are likely the reason the soil is much more fertile here. It isn't an old apartment building with a yard the size of a postage stamp surrounded by asphalt.

THIS, now, FEELS like summer to me: hot, humid, a large backyard with a firepit and within walking distance of civilization.

And with the arrival of the Summer Solstice this week, what better way to break the heat and humidity seal by running a half marathon? On Father's Day, L and I traveled about 45 minutes south to the west side of Columbus for the Hilliard Classic Half Marathon 10K 5K. I ran a race related to this event last year, but it was called "THE" It's NOT the Hilliard Classic Half Marathon, 10K & 5K and it was held at Alum Creek State Park. Apparently, portions of the route used for the previous year's event was under construction which forced moving the event to another location - hence, the name.

So, here in 2018, the event returned to it's original location

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With the temperature expected to hit 90-plus, it was nice to know the 7 am start would be much cooler...but for how long? And the Central Ohio humidity lately has forced your body to secrete perspiration and drip like a soaked sponge - that's what I get for signing up at the last minute. We would begin at the stadium at Hilliard Bradley High School and trek out & about along a 6.6 mile spiral before making a u-turn, returning from whence we came.

Race route - from Hilliard Bradley High School
and spiraling out, then back.

It was already 75 and humid at the gun. We would be free from direct sun (which was big red ball of in the distance at the time) for only so long. There was a small group of us who ventured out front as we circled the Hilliard Bradley Campus, among them was a Hilliard Bradley student in full track uniform along with a Hilliard Davidson athlete donning his school's track get up. The Bradley student was of the chatty sort, mentioning we had a good group and this was his second half marathon and asking us what our best half times were. I answered a few times, but then just ignored him. You could hear everyone's watch beep as the first mile marker was reached. Talky-talkerson then points out that at this 6:20 pace, we all would easily break the 1:30:00 barrier. Right then I thought if he were to keep yammering, I would have to kidney punch him.

Before reaching the first public roadway, a gentlemen sped up from behind to take the lead. It didn't take him long to leave us way behind.Through the second mile, the two Hilliard athletes tagged along with me and we pass L throwing out some encouragement. Shortly thereafter the Bradley student fell back (ha! No more talking!). The Davidson athlete was right with me to the first water stop and when the mile three marker came upon us he drifted back. "Good luck man," he forced out as I began pulling away. I didn't answer, but instead I stuck my hand out behind me and he high-fived me. Now on a long straight stretch I focus on the lead and can only hear the sound of my own breathing.

Me in the yellow with the the two Hilliard prep runners,
the chatterbox is in the black

We soon turn into an area in the midst of major housing development construction, following roads and roundabouts that have yet to see houses. Just before mile five I come upon a water station along the bike path we are about to turn down. With tables on each side of the path I push out at breathy, "Gatorade!?" The two ladies on the left side (holding cups of water to pass out) point to the table on the right side with a gentleman standing next to it. By this time I'm nearly passed it and reach to maybe grab a cup, but he is just standing off to side watching. The table is now completely behind me and rather than stop and go back to get cup, I wave at the table in disgust and keep on. I hear the ladies then say something to him like, "You are supposed to hand them the cup!?"

Suddenly I hear some heavy footsteps behind me, the kind where one would figure the person running is still learning how to run. The figure pulls even with me, but at the turnaround I drift in front. I can tell it is a younger dude and I'm using his following to keep my pace on track. Passing the same water stop moments later, the guy is now holding out the cup for me - but he's holding it like Superman would hold a rock of Kryptonite, with the ends of his fingers. Just as I reach it grab it, he lets go. It bounces off the ends of my fingers and the Gatorade hits the ground. You have got to be kidding me. I say nothing audibly, but in my mind I'm cursing him and quite perturbed. We continue along the bike path, running past a vast waste land of development to come. By this time the lead is so far out front that the kid and I now have our own bike escort.

From the stadium at 6:30 a.m., 75 degrees and humid.

Following the bike escort we delve deeper into the development construction area and watch as the lead (making his return trip) runs past us like we're walking. We cross a street lined with cones and pass a few onlookers, then suddenly the bike lead slows and turn, heading back towards us. I don't see any turnaround sign and he doesn't say anything, so I ask, "Is this the turnaround?" "Yes, it is", he says. I turn and take a good four to five steps before the onlookers we had just passed say, in a surprised fashion, "No..No..the turnaround is further down!" A little ticked, "Well, F***" was the phrase that came from my mouth out of frustration. I turn back around to notice the kid didn't turn, he continued on and now has a good 10 to 15 yard lead. The escort rides back passed me, saying "I'm sorry man."

About 200 yards later comes the ACTUAL race turn around. The kid, who made it there before I did, runs by me and the bike lead drifts by as well. "I'm sorry as hell as man", he says as I'm now running the opposite direction. Not that the escort is to blame, but this is where I started to crash a little bit. I was frustrated and the mind games came in to play. Slowly the kid drifted further away as the heat began to set in. We return to that goofy water station and this time there is also a girl on the Gatorade side, here I point to her and successfully grab the cup she's holding and.....it's water. Sure, the water was great to sip and douse myself, but I was looking for a sports drink - a sugar and sodium concoction of some kind.

2 1/2 miles to go utilizing L's water bottle
offering.

Down the shaded bike path segment, I feel a bit stronger and gain slightly on the kid. We turn and come back up the incline and it is that water station again. I purposefully stay to the left to reach the Gatorade and head straight for that guy. Here he is holding a cup of colorful liquid and I smile, grab it successfully and take a swig - finally some damn sports drink: fourth time is the charm! That kid, though, kept cranking along and just beyond the mile nine marker he has a good quarter mile ahead. I'm starting to succumb to the humidity and it reminds me of my first half marathon attempt last September in Celina when it was 90 and full sun for the last five to six miles.

I keep chugging along and focus on landmarks as I go to stay on course, but I can tell I have slowed significantly. Running alone with no one around kind of takes the effort down a notch and it hit me hard. I grab water offered by an onlooker and dumped it down my back. Soon, I see L again and she, too, hands me the water she has and I do the same as the previous water offering.

I reach the school again and make my way along the course winding around the campus. Into the stadium and around the track, I hear the announcer confirm that I'm the third place finisher. Finally reaching the end, I stop my watch and see I'm in at 1:32:54. Not an awful time at all, but nearly five minutes slower than the New Moon race a couple of weeks before. The winner finished ahead of me by ten minutes and the kid had me by three full minutes. That last 5K, for me, was a struggle.

L and I "celebrating" the fact that I didn't
melt

Hanging out for a little while to recover, downing gallons of water and watching the rest of the field make their way in, I dig a little bit and discover the kid who ran away from me was all of 17. Geez, I couldn't imagine being 17 and running a sub 1:30:00 half marathon. Until this past April, I couldn't imagine myself doing that at all. Now if I can just learn to pace myself a little better or focus more on my race, blocking those insignificant distractions from my mind.

I'm not sure what is next, probably a four-miler or 5K somewhere around the Fourth of July, we shall see. Breaking the 18:00 minute 5K barrier for the first time since my college days would be fun to do, Traffic Panther Teammate Gary did just that a week ago and I'm jealous. This running thing has finally become fun again.

This past Friday night, L and I lit up our firepit loaded with all the discarded woody remnants tossed from various trees surrounding our yard the last few weeks. It was giant pile and the fire was a small inferno for a few minutes before coming down to Earth enough for us to roast some hot dogs and marshmallows. We had a great time and for a summer that's just beginning, it was refreshing and exciting.

It is cool to know that more and better things are on the horizon - this....I believe...

The Bravery - Believe

The faces all around me they don't smile they just crack

Waiting for our ship to come but our ships not coming back

We do our time like pennies in a jar

What are we saving for, what are we saving for

There's a smell of stale fear that's reeking from our skins

The drinking never stops because the drinks absolve our sins

We sit and grow our roots into the floor

But what are we waiting for? What are we waiting for?

So give me something to believe

Cause I am living just to breathe

And I need something more