Some runners, especially women, like to drink wine. I believe it does no help for your running.

Runners need frequent fluid replacement. Wine is a poor choice. Though resveratrol and other antioxidants in wine are supposedly good for you, they have a negative impact on running. If you foolishly choose to drink wine, it should be done only for that rare quiet and romantic moment.

Recently I received a bottle of wine as a gift. I put it in my cupboard, intending to dispose of it first chance I got.

Several days later when I took it from the cupboard to throw out, I noticed it was cabernet sauvignon, which is such a beautiful word. It’s no wonder French is known as the language of romantics.As I reached for the garbage, my arm brushed a hanging unit that holds pans and utensils. A wine opener fell to the floor.

I didn’t know I had a wine opener, but since I never use it, I must have forgot. Was this a sign? Should I try a little? I uncorked the bottle and took a sip.It actually wasn’t too bad. With each sip, it tasted better. So I had a glass, then another. Next thing I knew, the bottle was empty.

I didn’t want my good feeling to end, so I went to the store and bought another.After a couple more glasses, I really wanted a woman to come over and enjoy wine with me. It was awfully late; however, thanks to a stroke of ingeniousness, a hot woman was soon at my table.I changed into a nicer outfit and splashed on some cologne. She really liked my wine, and our conversation was so stimulating and romantic.We looked deep into each other’s eyes. I was so taken by her beauty and charm. I told her that her long, slender, Audrey Hepburn-like neck is so beautiful.

Soon we were toasting to a great evening and great company.

When it was time to bring the evening to a close, I laid down, whispering, “Good night, my precious love doll.”

I needed a pause in my running, a break from the training grind, so I arranged a trip to the Kona Coast in Hawaii. A friend pointed out that I’ve been injured and haven’t run in weeks. I totally forgot about that.

Besides the wildlife, plants in Hawaii are so unlike what we have in Spokane.

Ruby Redpepper, owner of Animal Fulfillment Specialists, was doing a seminar about Hawaiian wildlife. I hired Ruby a few months ago as a consultant when I released indigenous, wild animals into my naturally landscaped front yard. She knows so much about animals, and I really, really like animals. I wasn’t about to miss this seminar.

We spent the first day in the classroom learning about island wildlife.

Ruby sips water while listening to a participant describe how dolphins crawled onto a beach to lay in the sun with him.

During our first excursion I put my head in the water and did sea turtle calls like Ruby taught us. After a half hour without any luck, I fell on a sea urchin in a tidal pool. It took fellow group members fifteen minutes to pull out all the spines.

Then Ruby tried and right away a turtle came.Ruby has such a way with animals that it tried crawling out of the water and into her lap. But Ruby says it’s important not to touch the sea turtles.Whenever I approached the turtle, it swam away quickly. I grabbed a rock, but Ruby calmed me down. I like sea turtles, but not when they’re uncooperative. Ruby talked in a kind and gentle voice and persuaded the turtle to approach me.Geckos are everywhere in Hawaii. You’ll find them in some stores and homes roaming freely. They eat bugs that get inside.The gecko below lives in the house that I rented. If you get close, they scurry or jump away very quickly.I saw a pretty bird in a tree so I climbed up to get a picture. Ruby said there was no way that would happen, but I might see a chameleon. Sure enough, I did, and I got a close-up picture.

Each day after class, I returned to my rented house so excited by Ruby’s seminar that I read about animals till the wee hours of the morning.

Some readers may remember an earlier post about how I did away with my lawn and put in indigenous plants. As a follow up project, I made running paths that allow me to go for a run in the country without leaving my front yard.

It was suggested that I hold a marathon in my yard, so I got the course Boston certified, and wrote about the event in a post called Basalt and Pine Marathon.

I was hoping to make it an annual event; however, issues arose during the race that forced cancellation of this year’s event.

• Over 2,400 runners entered. They spent most of the race trying to squeeze past other participants without making much progress.
• Since the race course was a 220-foot loop, race officials soon lost track of lap counts and placing.
• Many runners left their warm up clothing in my neighbor’s yard, and I forgot that my event and his lawn-mowing schedule coincided. The shredded outfits left a bitter taste among participants.

The native plants make for a very attractive marathon course.

I’m still contemplating holding a marathon in my yard next year, My neighbor has agreed to adjust his lawn moving schedule. I just need to enlarge my running paths so they’ll handle thousands of runners.

Sitting down to write this week’s post, no ideas came. I became desperate because all I could think of was random things, some about running and some not. I apologize if this post bores you, however, if you have trouble falling asleep, it’s an excellent resource.

In the 2011 Bloomsday 12K, a photo was taken of myself and a couple other runners. Of six feet, none were touching the ground.

I once read an article about this and was surprised how high the ratio of both feet off the ground is to time that at least one foot is on the ground.

Below is a photo of me watching a track and field race on YouTube.

Non-runners (and some runners too), probably think it’s boring to watch people run in circles over and over, but I find it very interesting.

Here I am standing atop the compost pile in the corner of my backyard.

The guy who lives across the alley once asked my next-door neighbor if they hate me. My neighbor asked why he would think that. He replied that he saw them tossing weeds into my backyard. My neighbors toss their weeds over the fence and into my pile because I’ve asked for their compostables.

I’m going to reveal something embarrassing. Maybe you’ll find it disgusting. I grow lots of tomatoes in my backyard. I eat plenty fresh, but I also boil down a bunch to make spaghetti sauce. I dehydrate a lot for wintertime eating as well.

I cut up a lot of tomatoes to dry. This is one batch which I repeat a bunch times more.

When I cut bunches of tomatoes, there’s a large pool of tomato juice left on the cutting table. The juice is especially sweet and good-tasting. I put my lips to the table and suck it up.

I’m a bachelor, and I live alone. I can get away with this. However, if I start seeing someone, don’t take a screen shot of this photo and send it to her. I’ll come after you.

I thought I’d have a pleasant outing in the woods last Sunday picking huckleberries, but there are some very rude people out there.

This year’s crop of huckleberries is very good.

Because I must run everywhere, I ran from my house to Mt. Spokane, a forty-six mile round trip. Huckleberries, a type of blueberry, grow mostly at high elevation around here. They are delicious and very healthy. I eat plenty fresh and freeze lots for year round eating. Though quite common, they resist domestication and must be picked wild.

There are a lot of huckleberry aficionados, and easy-to-reach patches are heavily picked. I know of an excellent patch on Mt. Spokane that requires some hiking. I’ve been going there for years, and I’ve never seen another picker.

I use a couple milk jugs with the top cut off and when attached to my belt, it frees both hands for picking. As you can see, it was a decent harvest.

I gave myself several pats on the back for coming up with the idea of running home with the containers placed at my hips. Carrying the extra weight will really increase my leg muscle mass.

However, so many people passing by in cars laughed at me. One guy yelled, “Run faster, huckleberry boy!” Oh, I got extremely angry.

I shook my fist at the mean driver who called me huckleberry boy. I don’t like that.

One driver honked his horn, and I waved, thinking it was someone I knew. But no, he laughed and yelled, “Wash up, huckleberry hands.”

Besides purple hands. I usually have purple lips, cheeks and chin too.

Then a problem developed. I glanced behind, and on the road was a trail of huckleberries as far as the eye could see. My berries were bouncing out.

However, I solutioned this issue very brilliantly. If I ran home in only half the time as my normal pace, only half as many berries will bounce out. So what to do was obvious:

Extreme Speedrunning!

Unfortunately, when I arrived home, there were so few berries left. The huckleberry bounce rate increased during my extreme speedrunning.

I became incensed about the wastiture of precious huckleberries. I was seething for hours, and not being able to get hold of my anger management counselor didn’t help either. As I often do, I vented my anger by slamming a pillow against the wall.

So, next week I’ll have to make another trip to Mt. Spokane – by car, which actually is how I got there today. I didn’t really run to Mt Spokane and back. 🙂

I was a high school senior when I walked into the kitchen as my mother prepared breakfast on May 30th,1975. On the radio was news of the death of America’s top track and field distance runner – Steve Prefontaine.

This poster I purchased forty years ago is pinned to a wall in my basement.

He was only twenty-four years old, and I was truly struck by his death in a one-car accident in Eugene, Oregon. I couldn’t help thinking how such a talented, charismatic runner was going from setting records to being buried in the ground.

He was a young college student when I watched him on TV challenging for the lead with a half lap to go in the 1972 Olympic 5000 meters, only to get edged for a medal by the older, more experienced favorites.

When I was in high school, before Pre’s death, a teacher assigned a collage project which I have little memory of. Among the hundreds of magazines we had for cutting out photos, I came across a 1971 Sports Illustrated with Pre on the cover. I pilfered it, and after reading it over and over, I eventually boxed it and put it in my closet with other mementos where it sat for years.

Because Pre is the track and field equivalent of movie-star James Dean, his untimely death has made this edition valuable. I only recently discovered that ones in excellent condition can sell for up to $500.

I saw Pre but once in-person – when he won the NCAA cross-country championship that was held in Spokane in 1973.

Most people when out in public want to look good, even while running. This can include not only the way you dress, but how fast you’re going.

A slow warm-up is a good way to start a run, but it doesn’t impress.

Women are especially good at choosing outfits that are attractive and eye-catching. Some guys also have an eye for fashion, but for the most part, we guys don’t make it a priority.

I often run in the evening, therefore, I wouldn’t impress many people if I wore a stylish outfit. However, the long days of summer allow me to get in a run after work when there’s still light. I get the notion sometimes to pick up the pace if there are people ahead. I think a runner looks good running at a brisk pace.

A group of women ahead, and I’m ready to impress. Estimated pace per mile: 5:15-5:20.

However, if I maintain a brisk pace too long, I’ll have a price to pay.

Good thing no one is around on this side street. Estimated pace per mile: 20 min.

Sometimes I run a really fast pace for too long and experience total collapse.

I’m reduced to walking on my hands and knees.

This has happened several times, so I carry a medium-sized swatch of fabric in my running shorts pocket. It’s a strange sight and embarrassing, but at least people can’t see who I am as I crawl home.

When you see another runner approaching, what options are there for acknowledging them, or should you even acknowledge?

A runner who looks like they don’t want to be bothered, or is focusing on their pace obviously should not be greeted. For all others, there are several greeting styles available.

A friendly nod is often the best way to go.

If you’re running in a rural area where cowboy values hold true, a tip of the hat and a friendly “Howdy” will earn you points.

If you cross paths with that runner who sprinted madly past you at the very end of last week’s 5K race and knocked you out of an age-group award, this is appropriate.

Some runners out there are just so friendly, smiley, and nice that you absolutely have to reciprocate.

If you happen to run through a neighborhood where gangs rule, random finger positioning will show that you’re one of them.

If you happen to cross paths with a very beautiful woman, don’t be shy or subdued. Show her how you feel.

It’s been three months since I suffered a stress fracture in my foot. I’m still waiting for it to completely heal, but when it does, to celebrate, I’d like Petra to join me on my first run.

I wrote in an earlier post about how Petra and I negotiated having a relationship that I described as intense realism, which means being a couple and being fluffy with others.

This blend of wandering and staying put can be an exciting lifestyle, but it’ll only work if the couple has a great love for one another, a recognition that wandering reduces the possibility of a relationship becoming stale, and a priority for each other which exceeds that for the fluffees.

However, instead of intense realism, my daily routine remains the same. Besides my job, a lot of my time consists of:

Working in my garden. It takes up about two-thirds of my backyard.

Going to a coffeeshop to work on the next I Must Run Everywhere post.

Making my daily dinner – salad with ingredients from my garden, and harvesting, chopping and freezing produce for winter use.

This is okay because I rather enjoy my daily life, however, intense realism would be more fulfilling, and I need to get on the stick.

After Petra and I discussed what kind of relationship we’d like, she wanted a little more time being unattached as her breakup with Byron left a bad taste in her mouth.

It’s been a few months now, and Petra has commented a couple of times lately about getting started, yet inertia has a grip on me. I’ve decided it’s time to act.

I know that bachelor pads are infamous for their clutter and filth, and even though I keep a neat place, I really want to impress Petra. So, I’ve been knocking myself out raising the cleanliness level from good to outstanding.

I scrubbed for hours, and the oven sparkles. An outstanding performance that deserves a medal.

I used a toothbrush to scrub the floor and clean the toilet. Then I absent-mindedly brushed my teeth with it.

How’s this for multi-tasking. I’m dusting a tabletop and the floor at the same time.

Petra, I invite you to come over. Start me up, and I’ll start you up.

Left side or right side? You get to choose. You’ll catch the scent of a mountain meadow bursting with wildflowers amid notes of tangy citrus and a hint of pine.