Running, racing

Did a 5k race this evening. Very satisifed with my time. I telephoned the race officials, my official time was 24:52, with an 8.1 pace. I finished 37/69; 1st in my category,and the 7th female finisher overall. I am pleased with that, it's several minutes less than my last time and this is my personal best, to date. I am very tired now and I have been sneezing since I got back.

Energized by my results, I took a plunge and signed up for a half-marathon today. I am confirmed, registered and paid. I am locked in, committed. Wow! Doing a 15k in Mason, Ohio on November 5. Time to kick it in. I gotta find new training grounds, I'm getting tired of the same route over and over.

Heading to the beach tomorrow boys and girls. I won't be reporting adventures until I return.

I plan to run often while at the beach. (sneezing again) I will return rested, relaxed, and renewed, with my running shoes full of sand.

Running update

Had a good run this evening. Ran 6 miles with good weather. Once again felt strong, vital, alive, dynamic. Looking forward to lengthening my training, scheduling some races soon. May run in race Thursday.

Time for Wine, Icewine

If you are tuning for my wine advice, I hope this post will assist you in picking out a fulfilling and delectable wine. I have decided to focus on icewine today. It's interesting and different but if you try it, approach it with an open mind. Think of it as an appertif, rather than a traditional wine.

In North America, icewine is almost exclusively made only in Canada. The Niagara area of Canada produces one of the most internationally sought-after icewines. The wine is also made in Germany and it is called Eiswein there. Only three varieties of vinifera grape and Vidal may be used but usually it is made from Vidal and Riesling grapes.

To make Icewine, the grapes are left on the vine until after the first frost hits. These grapes are harvested after being frozen in the vineyard and then, while still frozen, they are pressed. They must be picked early - before 10 a.m. During both of these processes the temperature cannot exceed -8 degrees C. At this temperature (-8 degrees C) the berries will freeze as hard as marbles. While the grape is still in its frozen state, it is pressed and the water is driven out as shards of ice. This leaves a highly concentrated juice, very high in acids, sugars and aromatics.

In Ontario and in Germany, icewine is defined as naturally frozen. This means that here as in Germany, no other method of making icewine is allowed other than the natural method. No artificial freezing method constitutes icewine by definition or label

The finished icewine is intensely sweet and flavorful in the initial mouth sensation. The balance is achieved by the acidity, which gives a clean, dry finish. The nose of icewine recalls lychee nuts. The wine tastes of tropical fruits, with shadings of peach nectar and mango.

Icewine is winter's gift to the wine lover: one of the best-kept secrets of the wine world that garners gold medals in virtually every competition in which it is entered.

Because the yields are quite low, icewine is expensive; between $35 and $70 a bottle. Since icewine is sipped in a tiny cordial glass, one bottle will last and it can be kepts in the freezer. I've had two labels but I only recall Inniskillen, which is produced in the Niagara on the Lake region of Canada. Try it.

Busy weekend, chaotic day

I tried to squeeze ever so many things into this past weekend. Cottaging with my family, vertical practice, cooking, exercise, wood gathering, quiet woods, eating and drinking, driving, relaxing. I am tired but content, manic on Monday but followed in friendship.

More Poetry by Drewe Rain, a study

Alive

Pain is proof that we are still alive.

If I felt nothing then I could not love.

You call me and I answer. Then you go.

We do not speak awhile and I know.

That distance does not separate; oh, no.

I trust that things will still fall out,

Incredibly, as they have done so far.

We see what happens and we still are.

Parting cannot cause us any harm.

We let each other go, and we affirm

Our trust that the compass of chance

Will help us find our way. We take our leave,

Exchanging unseen particles,

And advance our long negotiation with a kiss.

And later, flying home, on buoyant air,

I think of an embrace, a strand of hair

That fell across your face, and episodes

of feelings embedded in our words -

echoes of things that we know will last.

That strand is fine as silk but will not break.

I brushed it back once; now it holds me fast.

I smile at the rapport, but do not speak

and let it travel at the speed of thought

Towards another place where we may meet.

You live in flesh and blood. You are alive.

And if you could not bleed, you could not love.

There must be veins and sinews to connect

the soft stuff of ideas and give some shape

to sentiment, volitions that enact

The choices that you make, and measure hope.

Things can make sense as they have done so far.

We see what happens and we still are.

Deep Thoughts by Batscout - Poetry, compasses

Poetry as compass?

What is a compass? As a child, I loved compasses. I had one that was easy to carry in a pocket, with a string around the neck. Flat as tablet, with a rotating dial. At its center an animated needle that can't rest, that will swivel and spin on its pivot as you turn, seeking alignment with the northern magnetic axis of the globe beneath our feet. No cord, no battery, no buttons or antenna. A device both mechanical and alchemical. A piece of technology that cannot be "improved upon."

Likewise, a poem. It may sound startling to say that poetry is a technology. Yet unlike the seemingly limitless proliferation of gadgets and procedures glutting industrialized society, think of the poem as a technology more comparable to a chair, scissors, a shirt, or a broom. These relatively simple inventions, which have changed hardly at all in function or even design, aside from changes in materials, are recognizable and reliable. One can construct them by hand, from memory. And said of the compass, it's not easy to "improve upon" the traditional chair, scissors, shirt, or broom -- and in fact, many of the older ones still work best.

I often think about the ways a poem can move through time, through space, can penetrate or puncture the membrane between what is real and what is merely seen. This membrane is a border too often presumed to be impermeable, though it isn't. As John Donne wrote, utilizing the compass for an exemplary conceit: "Thy firmness makes my circle just,/ And makes me end, where I begun."

Just words - the poetry of Drewe Rain

Your hands are threaded within mine
Your eyes reveal, portals unto center depths
Your scent a fragrance of pine

Our particles spin, atoms flying, shreds merge, dance, return
Your touch electric at my spine
Your lips created by sculpting angels
Your honor apparent, is it a sign?

Our steps increase as time progresses
A force, a light, momentum presses
Ways of faring myriad stresses

How shall I, what shall I, when shall
I wonder
How shall you, what shall you, when shall you
Fall under

As I feel myself being drawn
Will you run from the dawn?
Come, the day has begun
We must not hide from the sun
It’s found us, we shall absorb it’s heat
And share a duo energy, as one incomplete.

Carbonation/osteoporosis

A study published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition (September 2001) looked at the question of whether carbonated beverages increase urinary excretion of calcium. If so, this effect might provide a plausible link between consumption of carbonated beverages and an increased risk of fractures. (There is a link within my lifestyle).

Researchers from the Osteoporosis Research Center at Creighton University found that excess urinary excretion of calcium occurred only when the carbonated beverages consumed contained caffeine. At least one earlier study had suggested that caffeine consumption can have a deleterious effect on bone health if not counteracted by sufficient calcium. (my caffeine consumption was not counteracted by sufficient calcium after I reached the third grade.)

Here is something to consider medically: if your thyroid was very high it
could cause you to have some bone loss not appropriate for your age
As you grew up, if you did not get adequate calcium in your diet during your
growth spurt, you may never have gotten the optimum bone mass at all. (I have a feeling that I never reached optimum bone mass).

Being too skinny can increase your risk of osteoporosis.
Can this be true? What about the saying that goes “you can never be too thin or too rich?” (Madison Avenue talk?) Apparently, they didn’t know about the risk factors of osteoporosis. Being too thin can actually increase your risk factors for osteoporosis. That is, a slight excess of fat helps protect bones. (I guess I am guilty, although you would have to beat me to get me to ever admit I was too thin; IF I was in fact - someday - too thin.) According to one study, women who consumed more “good” fats in their diet were better able to absorb calcium than women placed on a low-fat, high-fiber diet. Don't break out the bon bons just yet, though, as being overweight puts the body at risk for life-threatening illnesses and diseases. (I eat a low fat high fiber diet.)

Expert advice - how to avoid Osteoporosis:

a. Eliminate coffee (I love coffee), all caffeine (I plan to make an attempt) and alcohol (I shall reduce said intake, however, my average consumption is <1>
b. Stop smoking (Never did).
c. Reduce or eliminate carbonated beverages (Will work on that).
d. Exercise regularly (w/weights particularly) (I definately do that, I should get at least a B+ here.
e. Go outside - get your Vitamin D from the sun (I am outside frequently).
e. Healthy diet - less sodium and junk food (I should get at least a B in this column).
f. Consume calcium in diet; i.e., milk, yogurt, cheese, broccoli, shellfish (Here is where I have failed remarkably).
g. Vitamins (I don't deserve more than a D).

Let's get to work gals and keep those dowager humps at bay.

This has been a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test.

Tuesday's Wine Post - inexpensive

2003 MAD DOGS & ENGLISHMEN
Cabernet Shiraz, Monastrell, Spain

A combination of the most widely planted local grape variety called Monastrell (50%); barrel aged Cabernet Sauvignon (20%) and Shiraz (30%).The Monastrell grape brings raspberry, loganberry and mulberry flavors to the palate while the Shiraz carries white pepper notes. The Cabernet provides the backbone to the wine with a soft, round mouth feel and a sweet mid-palate. $13 (Hey, it's a catchy name at least).

Distortions

Oh yeah baby, I'm back.

I have begun keeping my training log again. In the last week, I've recorded about 14 miles. Last night I ran 7 miles in about 55 minutes and I am pretty happy with that. I had a really good supper and drank a good amount of water. About 2 hrs later, I hit the road. I felt great, the weather was fine. Everything considered, it was a perfect run and I felt strong. I am going to begin an earnest training regimen again. I must find a way to prevent further weight loss though and keep my body fat percentage from further decreasing. It's at 12%, pretty low, I guess. Anyway, my sister and I are looking for a race together, maybe Paris, France in March. Please pray for me - that my ankle and other bones hold up.

Great weekend

Took my children camping and caving. We had a wonderful time and my husband got a much needed break. He had a cold and used the weekend to nurse himself back to health, work on his motorcycle, play golf and clean out the garage.

The highlight of Camille's weekend was when she played in a coal pile. All you could see of her were the vivid blue eyes, the rest of her covered in black coal dust. She experienced her first cave trip and while she approached it with trepidation, felt a sense of accomplishment afterward. I carried her most of the way, even sliding through a crawlway on my back as she lay across my abdomen. As we exited a fairly short time later, she began bragging that she was a "caver girl".

I increased my vertical volume, trying out my new gear. As usual, I couldn't decide if my middle name was courage or chicken. In the end, I would frankly admit that "chicken" better suited me. At least I forced myself (with appreciated help) to work through it and not allow the chicken to peck my courage control apart.

The weather was really splendid, with comfortable day and night time temperatures. Thinking about the weather as I drove home, I was reminded of a Neil Diamond song. While Mr. Diamond isn't my favorite gem of a performer, his tune "September morn" kept going through my mind.

Looking forward to my next vertical practice.

English language variances

During OTR, a British friend made me angry because he called me a "small awkward person". I cared not for this label, I tell you, and I did not understand it. I may not be Grace Kelly, but nobody ever called me awkward before, at least not to my face. "Awkward, what do you mean, awkward?" I noticed a rise in the tone and decibel level of my voice. It was clear I did not care for this description, nor did it fit me.

This friend, by the way, prefers to be called English, not British, because "English" refers to those from England, and the term "British" is broader, referring to those from the whole island.

The "small awkward person" name was bestowed on me during a car ride from a group campout to a state park hike. Everyone in my vehicle weighed in on their opinions about the label. I said it was not appropriate and not appreciated, because I am not awkward. "Awkward", I argued, "means lacking grace, clumsy, ungainly". "No, it means difficult" said the Brit. See, the British think they are the superior knowitall creators and inventors of the language, thus they know all words better than any damn American. My English friend wouldn't agree to my definition of the word awkward and said only that awkward means "difficult" to the original English speakers.

"Wait a minute", I said, "I'm a wordsmith and while awkward may mean "difficult" far down the line of alternative meanings, the primary definition is the one I speak of". This caused an argument and all persons in my car and later at the campground gave their opinions of the definition. So, I have looked up the definition of awkward both in the Webster's dictionary (American) and Oxford dictionary (English).

Webster's - Awkward: 1. not graceful, ungainly. 2. Not desterous, clumsy, unskillful, 3. Hard to handle; unwieldy 4. difficult or dangerous, 5. inconvenient, uncomfortable. Webster's comments - Awkward applies both to physical movement and to embarrassing conditions and situations.

Oxford's - Awkward: • adjective 1 hard to do or deal with. 2 causing or feeling embarrassment. 3 inconvenient. 4 clumsy.

— DERIVATIVES awkwardly adverb awkwardness noun.

— ORIGIN from obsolete awk clumsy, from Old Norse.

Either way, it is a negative label and not a nice thing to call somebody. I am neither clumsy, nor hard to deal with. Neither dictionary's definition applies to me, we were in America at the time; thus Webster's definition prevails and I win.

Y'all hear that? I win!

Tuesday's Wine Post

Sorry for the brevity of this post. A crazy day...

1996 Kalin Cellars Potter Valley Sauvignon Blanc (Potter Valley AVA is apparently in Mendocino County)Rich mouthfeel. Smoky element. Made in the Fume' style. Nice wine if you go for that style. Selling for $24.99 per bottle.

John Muir explains...

"I wish I knew where I was going. Doomed to be carried of the spirit into the wilderness,' I suppose. I wish I could be more moderate in my desires, but I cannot, and so there is no rest."

John Muir, #33, p.32 Letter to Mrs. Carr from Indianapolis, Aug. 30, 1867.

The beautiful words of John Muir say so much. I find such comfort in John Muir's writings and in the poems of Robert Frost. I too am doomed to be carried of the spirit into the wilderness. I too wish my desires could be -- calmed. I believe my desires, my quest for life, is moderate. Others do not.

I had a fine day at Carter Caves State Resort Park yesterday. The weather was perfect, the woods shaded, quiet. I could feel their quiet natural energy as I trail ran with friends. Bugs were dive bombing me as I ran along, spider webs covering me in fine gossemer strands of silk, laced with dehydrated bug carcasses. It was as if the spiders were speading their numerous webs across the trial like the finish line ribbon, cheering me on. I break through their webs with victory. I am running in nature, I have won the race.

As we completed the 7.5 mile hike/run, I felt good. My ankle was tender and hurt during the night but it was well worth it. I only wish I could have run more.

Chloe in dance class, me in bargain purple dress

Embarrassing moments

I've told this story many times. It's the story of one of my most embarrassing moments, although I've had many other similar experiences. After my husband and I first got married, we were visiting my inlaws in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I was nervous because I wanted them to like me, I wanted to impress them. While we were visiting, my husband's step sister (Erica) and her fiance (Mark) were also visiting.

I had never met them before. Mark had just finished med school, Erica was a nurse. My husband, father and mother-in-law, Erica, Mark and I were all in the great room, talking. We were chatting about various subjects and choosing a restaurant to dine for supper. The room was large, with a fieldstone fireplace, and oversized leather furniture. My husband (Bill) was sitting on a large leather chair; I on the accompanying ottoman.

My husband, Bill, had his legs stretched out, his feet on the ottoman beside me. His shoes were off; he wore argyle socks and faded jeans. While chatting, I absentmindedly rubbed his feet and calves. Midway through the conversation, I needed a pee break. I went to the restroom (washroom to Canadians) and then returned to my place on the ottoman. I resumed rubbing Bill's feet and calves. I decided to get silly with him, I put my hand up his jean clad leg, pulled his socks down, pulled his leg hair, and then I decided to get really frisky and really silly. I put my hand and arm as far as it would go up his pant leg. I could just reach the end of his boxer shorts. I grabbed them while my arm was buried to the shoulder inside his pants.

Just as I began pulling on the boxer shorts (I intended to pull them all the way to the end of the pant leg), I heard a strange voice say - - -

"I think you've got the wrong guy".

Just then I realized that my husband had moved across the room and was looking at me funny. Somehow my husband and Mark had changed places. Funny how they both had similar argyle socks and faded jeans. Funny how I rubbed Mark's foot and calf, stuck my hand up his pant leg, pulled his leg hair and rolled his socks down before he said anything. Funny how the entire time I was accidently messing with Mark, everyone in the room carried on as if it were normal. Funny how the entire time I mistakenly harassed Mark, I had a clear and direct view of my husband across the room. It never registered in my confused mind that I couldn't be looking at Bill across the room while rubbing his leg.

Mark told me after the laughter had faded that he just thought I was being chummy; that it must be some kind of American gesture. Hey, we Americans can be friendly but we don't go that far. I haven't seen Mark since and I have been married for 16 years. He is probably wondering what I would do to him next.

The state of things

I had a really fine Labor Day weekend at an enjoyable caving event in West Virginia. While in the area I visited Seneca Rocks and Blackwater Falls State Park. That part of the state is breathtaking. On the top of Seneca Rocks, I lay down on the narrow, uplifted piece of the earth's crust, spread my arms out and felt the wind and sun on my skin. It was as if I could fly, such a peaceful, calming, comforting sensation.

While at the caving event, I ran a 5k race on Sunday. I did fairly well given the utter collapse of my training and the continued ankle problems. I felt a competitive reaction toward a fellow runner and this spurred me on, causing me to stick to it, despite an uncomfortable ankle. My time wasn't good - 29:33 - but I finished well compared to the other contenders (I think I was 4th overall).

Afterward, I could feel my ankle stiffening up, saw a golfball sized area forming over the fracture site. It's been 8 weeks, you would think it would be healed.

Driving back on Monday, I was totally tapped of energy, emensely exhausted, finally frayed and my ankle throbbed when I held a peddle down. I stopped several times along the way; for coffee, food, rest, a power nap (5 minutes), more coffee, water, and to just rest my ankle.

Today, my ankle is still bothering me. I managed to squeeze in 25 minutes of weight training and 1/2 hour on the treadmill but my ankle cared naught. It stiffened, throbbed, and made me very aware that it is not healed.

I have made two significant sporting equipment purchases within the last week; the above mentioned treadmill and a rope walker system. I bought a Nordictrack C2300 and once I got it properly calibrated and the tread properly tightened, it was great.

The rope walker system I purchased at the caving event from a mountaineering vendor; On Rope 1. On Rope 1 is partially owned by Bruce Smith, a renowned vertical caver and a coauthor of On Rope. If you need any vertical or caving equipment, it's one of the best places to get it. The owners and staff are kind and extremely knowledgeable; they are one of the most service oriented retail businesses I have ever encountered. They actually produce much of the vertical gear and are on the cutting edge of rope ascending equipment. Website is www.OnRope1.com

Tuesday's Wine Post

I attended a West Virginia caving event this past weekend; there were lots of vendors, including a winery. Forks of Cheat Winery comes to the caving event every year and I am always sure to buy a bottle (or 2 or 3) of their port. While it may never achieve world stature, it's amazingly good for a West Virginia port.

Called Black Jewel Port, it sells for $17.25-$20.00. The winery's own description is "A robust ruby port with notes of black cherry and caramel" and I would say that is pretty much accurate. It doesn't have a pruny, raisiny taste like many ports; it lacks the silky aged texture of expensive ports. But - I find it well worth the price, it has a great flavor and the black cherry notes are steady. It comes in a stunningly beautiful slim cobalt blue bottle. A friend once paid me $5.00 just for the empty bottle.

The port won a bronze medal at the 2000 San Diego National Wine Competition and a gold medal and best of show at the 2000 West Virginia Wineries Competition. It has to be the best fashioned port east of the Mississippi.

To purchase or get more information, visit: www.wvwines.com