Cummaquid and the Road Back Home

On Sunday morning I took a trio of buses from Portland, Maine back to Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I was home...or, at least, my old home - Cummaquid. That afternoon I drank Dark n' Stormies, played with the family spaniel and stared off towards space. After 3.5 weeks working on the road, I needed to decompress.

On Monday morning I set out on one of my trademark runs around town - running down 6A, around the beach, through Barnstable Village, past the court house, which was still covered in bunting and flags from the 4th, and back through some area trails. I was moving pretty good so decided to see what I could do on my last mile - number ten. I stopped the watch, reset the timer/GPS then tore off towards my house, which is almost a mile from the main road. I clocked a 5:05, which surprised me, but since I have not been doing any workouts (and therefor not tired), it seems to make sense.

On Tuesday, I ran 9 miles down to the end of the Bass Hole Boardwalk. I haven't done this run in many years and the last time I did it I think it was in the winter. It's beautiful any time of year.

On Wednesday, I ran the roads/trails in and around Cummaquid and Barnstable similar to the run I did on Monday. I find myself moving along quite quickly and covered the 9 miles in 58:00.

On Thursday morning, I ran an easy 6 miles then beat feet to the airport.

On Friday, I met Sam in North Bethesda for the Hanks-Rock Creek Trail Loop. We ran 8, which was the furthest Sam had run since returning from injury. It's good to see him back in the fight.

On Saturday, I met PMurph down in Georgetown. We ran at a fairly pedestrian pace for the first 4-5 miles, but then picked it up some as we crested Ernst Hill and made our way down towards the Natl Zoo/Rock Creek Park by way of the Glover-Archibald Trail. Truth be told, my legs felt rocked as I negotiated the final few miles back to the GRC Store - 13.5 miles.

On Sunday, I ran from The Line. My legs were still trashed (I guess running hard everyday DOES impact the legs after awhile), so I started out easy. I wanted to hammer the last 2-4 miles (depending on how I felt). As I approached Ross Drive Hill, two women cruised past me on bikes. This was like throwing a steak in front of a very hungry dog. Under the right conditions - and it has to be almost perfect - a runner can catch a road bike on an incline. The hill has to be steep enough and the distance between the bike and the runner marginal. I tore off up the hill like a man half crazed with madness. I caught bike #1 fairly fast, but bike #2 was a different story. Soon, I was digging deep in the lungs and searching for a new gear, but before I reached the halfway point I caught her. But then, I wanted to punish the biker. I up-ticked my cadence and drove my knees towards the heavens leaving the poor cyclist somewhere in my wake. By the time I crested the hill, I felt as if I had just quit smoking, but elated because I had won a silly pissing contest somewhere in the middle of the woods. A few minutes later, both bikes past me on the downhill and channeling my "Mr Hyde" I called out, "You've got me now!" One of the women smiled. The other snarled. I did my best to hammer the last two miles on the road back towards Maryland, but all I could muster were 5:40s. Still, it was a solid run.

It was 65.5 miles for the week. Not great by any means, but not terrible either.