It's all about the fluids...

Monday, May 03, 2010


I was working in my office and having no luck getting on-line. We’d had some work done on the server over the weekend and I was sure this was the after-affect. Just as I was ready to use profanity in my efforts, the programmer stuck his head in my office. He stared at me for a second and I knew what was coming.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you look…”

“…like John Locke?” I finished.

“Yeah! And you sound like him, too.”

I’d been working on my ‘Locke’ voice and was pleased he’d noticed.

“Yeah…heard that a couple of times,” I said.

“Mind if I take a picture? My wife is totally going to believe that I met John Locke when I show her this.”

I hit him up for $20 and let him take the picture. And I got my computer fixed without having to call Sayid. Finally it pays to look like someone other than me. Holly keeps wishing I favored Richard Gere, but you have to take what you get.

I felt like the walking wounded all day. If you’ve never run a marathon (…and I’m not recommending it), I had that wonderful muscle soreness from the waist down the reminds you with every step that you’d done something really foolish and were now paying the price. Actually, I’ve had this feeling a lot over the past couple of months, but understand it is the price for my own intensity...and age.  Still…I don’t want to take a rest. Probably because I keep eating too much.

Anyway, I walked around some trying to loosen up the joints and muscles before beginning my run. I was in the South Chagrin Reservation again, but was planning to run on trails I’d never seen and didn’t know where they went (my grandpa would have said “they don’t go anywhere, John – they just stay there”). I like to tell myself I have a great sense of direction and it’s no matter that I don’t know the way. I can’t get ‘Lost’ in the Metroparks…right?

So…I follow this bridle trail thinking I’m heading south to an area I know when, after about 15 minutes of running I come to a road that isn’t supposed to be in the park. Somebody screwed up.

I was thinking of looking in the mailbox across the street to see if there was any mail which would help me identify the misplaced road, but the mailman was coming and I’m pretty sure it’s a federal offense to look at someone else’s mail.

So…I hopped back on the trail and eventually ran into a couple of hikers. I stopped to ask them where the hell they were…which would pretty much tell me where the hell I was.

“Hey…you look like…”

“Yeah…I’m him and we’re doing a promotional shoot here in Cleveland, but I’m kinda ‘Lost’.”

“Wow…how cool…how does it…”

“C’mon – you don’t want me to tell you that…now, do you?”

They told me where I was and I didn't tell them how the season ended.  By now, the soreness was gone…I love endorphins…and I headed for an area I knew well along the Chagrin River. I did elect to follow more closely to the river on the unofficial trails made by hikers and runners who, like me, prefer a little more solitude and the beauty and sound of the river close at hand for every stride. It was a perfect run.

I returned to the car soaked and with squishy shoes again. I really needed to drink more and made a mental note to do it that evening. Dehydration is cumulative and I’ve suffered its affects before. You can’t keep losing 5-8 pounds of water a day without getting into serious trouble if you don’t put it back. I had a plan.

Jack had set a pr in the 800 last week and I hadn’t taken him for his East Coast Custard reward yet. After dinner, I reminded him of this oversight and since I was there and didn’t want him to have to…you know…eat alone…I ordered a Raspberry Slurry. You see…I all about re-hydrating…

Run duration: 48 minutes.

Training Heart Rate: 140.

Calories burned during workout: 815.