Category: RUNNING STREAK (Page 25 of 34)

I could tell this was not going to be a normal day. I encountered just about every obstacle possible trying to cross the 50 plus intersections along my downtown running course. In fact, it took an extra 3 minutes to complete, as I eventually made it back safely. It must be a sign that today is Halloween. I did see a few costumes along the way – at least I think they were costumes. Since we now live in a secure apartment building, we will not be seeing trick-or-treaters at our door. As a result, we decided to treat ourselves to a nice dinner out, including wine pairings. 

As I was running through Tom McCall Waterfront Park this morning on day #3959 of my continuous streak, I took note of the Japanese American Historical Plaza that is at my half-way point. The sun is usually in my eyes as a try to read some of the stone markers, so I went to the Oregon Encyclopedia for answers:

“Using thirteen engraved stones of basalt and granite, the Japanese American Historical Plaza in Portland tells an important story of the Japanese in Oregon. Landscape architect Robert Murase created the theme and design of the plaza to tell the story of the hardships suffered by Japanese immigrants and the indignities imposed by the incarceration of persons of Japanese ancestry during World War II. The plaza shows how the rights of Japanese Americans on the West Coast were denied, and honors the bravery of those who served in the U.S. Armed Forces while their families were in the camps.”

“The story continues with poems inscribed on stones. The stone at the center of the plaza lists the ten internment camps. The base of this stone is surrounded by flagstones with jagged sides laid out in irregular patterns reflecting the broken dreams of the internees.”

“Poets Lawson Inada (Ashland), Shizue Iwatsuki (Hood River, deceased), Masaki Kinoshita (Portland, deceased), and Hisako Saito (Portland, deceased) composed the inscribed poems.”

It’s difficult to imagine the torn loyalties of these people who were displaced from their homes and separated from their families simply because of their ancestry. It reminded me of our trip to the Historical Society Museum earlier this week and the plight of Native Americans who were forced from their homes by the white man. There are so many injustices that are part of our history. I’m fortunate to have a home, along with the freedom and good health to run every day. In retirement, I’m trying to learn more about my day-to-day surroundings in the city where I live. We’ll probably be somewhere else in two years, and certainly don’t want to regret missing anything. 

As I continued my run, I spotted some sculptures along Davis Street, but the tiny recognition plaque would have required me to stop. Instead, I later found an article by Sara Hottman of The Oregonian. “The Regional Arts & Culture Council, based in Northwest Portland, has facilitated the installation of four illuminated sculptures along Northwest Davis Street as part of the Portland Mall Revitalization Project. The project seeks to increase pedestrian connectivity from Old Town-Chinatown to the Pearl District. Artist Dan Corson’s sculptures, illuminated at night, were inspired by Nepenthes, carnivorous plants found in tropical climates whose name means “without grief.” In Greek mythology, “Nepenthes,” Corson notes, was a potion that eliminated sorrow and suffering.”

I only noticed three of the four sculptures and have yet to see them at night. The Northwest Davis Street pathway includes cultural landmarks like Portland Center Stage, Powell’s Books, the Museum of Contemporary Craft, art galleries, and the historic Davis Street Tavern. It will give me other things to pay attention to on my daily tour of the town.  As Halloween day leads into night, I’ll be curious to find out what other unusual sights I’ll find in Portland. Hopefully, there won’t be any more obstacles in the way. 

I think I found my running route this morning, after weeks of winding aimlessly through my new neighborhood. It’s a numerical course, rather than alphabetical, that led me to 1st Street and Tom McCall Waterfront Park. McCall, in case you were wondering, was the thirteenth Governor of Oregon and credited with forming this 37-acre public space in place of the waterfront freeway on the banks of the Willamette (as in dammit) River. It’s the site of many Portland events including the popular Waterfront Blues Festival. As I was running through the park, I couldn’t help but think of a former co-worker who was an on-air personality and the galvanizing force behind the festival. He was recently diagnosed with incurable stage four cancer. It’s just another example of how fragile life really is, and how fortunate I am to have lived a healthy 68-years. 

Unfortunately, it’s a 3.1 mile route of eye-opening homelessness that now totals over 14,000 in the state. The overpasses provide some shelter, since there is limited opportunity for overnight housing assistance. There are about 2,000 people sleeping on the streets of downtown Portland, huddled in doorways and wrapped in damp blankets. Sadly, I’m sure that after weeks of morning runs that I will be come hardened to this nightmarish reality. It only makes me run faster, but my thoughts are on how I can help? When we first moved to Portland, we lived downtown and this became my morning eye-opener. For the past five years, I’ve lived far removed from the problem. Now, it’s in plain sight and a concern. I don’t feel scared, but I do feel guilty that I have a better life. 

Today was #3945 of “The Streak” that started back in 2008. It’s taken me all over the world, but it’s good to establish a familiar route. This takes the focus off the miles and time, letting my mind concentrate on what I might write about when I get done, for example. Anything is better than constantly checking my watch  for when to turn around and come back. This new loop takes me 20 Portland blocks (or one mile) east and 10 more south along the waterfront to the half-way mark. It’s reminiscent of my early days in the city, with the familiar landmarks of downtown. Our first apartment here was exactly one mile from where we live now. My goal when I leave every morning is to get back home and away from the homeless!

I’m not sure anymore what day my week starts? Are there still seven days in a week anymore or do they just merge together into months and years? I still have the 1000 Places to See Before I Die calendar on my desk to give me reference, but soon I’ll turn-over the last page and probably won’t get a new one. There’s still a date icon in the lower corner of the computer I’m using, but I pay little attention anymore. Rarely I fill out a check with the date, and certainly there’s no longer the need to write business proposals that are date sensitive. It’s getting harder and harder to keep track of the days, and more than likely it just doesn’t matter. 

Time is still important, although it passes quickly. My current routine has me up at 6:45 a.m. After some push-ups and sit-ups, I take the dogs out to do their business. By half-past seven, I’m starting my run that was cut short this morning by a baseball card show. I prefer to do things in the afternoon, so mornings are not disrupted, but on occasion I will have to be somewhere early. It’s then a mile-plus run rather than the standard 3.1 mile norm. This sustains my consecutive running streak that now stands at 3,940 days. One mile is the minimum daily requirement, according to strict USRSA standards. 

With our recent move to a near-downtown Portland apartment, I’m in the process of establishing a new course, so right now my street routine varies every day. I can run north or south across the alphabet streets or east/west numerically. The good news is that it’s hard to get lost even for someone as direction-ally challenged as myself. (See Post #1081). We live in the middle of the alphabet on 21st Street – the Willamette River (as in dammit) borders 1st Street. A for Ankeny or Alder (there’s apparently a difference in opinion) borders downtown, however B for Burnside is the main divider. The blocks are also shorter – 20 blocks to a mile, whereas most American cities have much larger block patterns. This morning I ran a loop down to 10th and back to complete my Streak minimum. Now, it’s off to the card show.

Last night, we walked seven blocks to our first neighborhood restaurant, Mamma Bird. There are two restaurants directly below us that are just an elevator ride away, plus countless other good choices within a twelve-block radius. Rarely will we have to get in the car for entertainment, although tonight we’ll see the movie Judy with some passes to a theater nearer our old neighborhood. There is a movie house just down the street that offers $5 tickets on Mondays. It will be a frequent matinee choice starting with Joker next week. Soon, we’ll be neighborhood regulars at the bars and shops that make this section of Portland unique. It’s why we chose it as the first stage in our joint retirement plan. 

I’m baaaaaack! Moving was the worst ever experience. I’m old, tired, and sore. Plus, I had to spend two days without internet service. Running is about the only thing that gives me peace between loading boxes of crap into my car. We’ve relocated to The Alphabet Blocks in Portland, which are located on the Northwest side of Burnside St (the true beginning of what I call the alphabet district. 

A – Alder (which doesn’t run / transverse the City as Burnside). Some list Ankeny instead. 

B – Burnside 

C- Couch (pronounced COO-ch) 

D – Davis 

E – Everett

F – Flanders

G – Glisan

H – Hoyt

I – Irving 

J – Johnson

K – Kearney (where we now live)

L – Lovejoy

M – Marshall (halfway there)

N – Northrup 

O – Overton

P – Pettygrove, 

Q – Quimby

R – Raleigh

S – Savier

T – Thurman

U – Upshur

V – Vaughn 

W – Wilson

X, Y, and Z apparently didn’t exist when these streets were originally named back in the days of yore. This sadly reminds me of the Sue Grafton book series that I started years ago with the letter A. I collected each book up through Y. Then she died leaving the letter Z to the imagination. This will be one of the casualties of downsizing for me, in the interest of space. I’ll be selling my collection today at world famous Powell’s Book Store – on Burnside at 10th, taking up a full city block on the fringe of the Alphabet District. 

It’s hard for even me to get lost in this area, since the vertical streets are all sequentially numbered. Yesterday, I ran a 3.1 mile loop that started on Kearney west to 25th Street then north to Wilson and back down 24th to Everett, eventually returning to Kearney. It’s as easy as A-B-C. 

The days seemed to melt together this week. It’s been the busiest I’ve been in retirement. I’ve taken time to watch the Ken Burns Country Music documentary, but between episodes it’s been run, pack, load, and unload. The running part has nothing to do with moving on this my 3,925th consecutive day. Soon, I’ll be mapping out a new downtown route, and leaving behind the neighbors who follow similar predictable routines every morning. I’ll miss the people, school buses, and dogs, along with an occasional deer, that cross my path each day in a clockwork-like fashion.

I couldn’t remember if I went to the mailbox yesterday, or if it was the day before? I’m no longer waking up to a 6 a.m. alarm, so there’s less familiar faces along my running route, while next week I’ll be starting a whole new pattern. It’s a little over a month until time change, and sleeping habits will change once again. These are variations that make running every day more challenging. Later next week, I have an early morning flight, so I’ll be cutting the distance and navigating in the dark. It will be interesting to see the new neighborhood in the really early hours. Better yet, it will be a relief getting all this moving out of the way.

Speaking of routines, I’m going to miss getting mad about the Cubs. Baseball is a great retirement sport, with games every afternoon to keep me entertained. Football is more of a weekend and evening sport that takes me away from being an attentive husband. After moving three loads in my car, I deserved some sports-time, and enjoyed watching the Eagles beat up on the Packers. Fellow I.U. grad, Jordan Howard scored an Eagles touchdown, after two years of following him with the Bears. Last night, he helped the Bears’ cause.

Oops! I drifted off into sports, a subject that not everyone who reads this blog appreciates. This is why I categorize my posts, so that you few readers can follow the areas that interest you most. Admittedly, I’m a sports fan, but the teams that I follow are often losers, with little appeal to the masses. I also like to write and do poems about pets, adoption, retirement hassles, and running. My mood changes day-to-day, so you’ll always find a variety of interests.

I’m obviously avoiding having to talk about a friend’s recent death. A few days ago I had to address the topic of Cancer that affected another good friend. (See Post #1077). I feel especially remorseful about this loss because I was responsible for bringing him from Ft. Wayne, Indiana to Indianapolis to work for me at the TV station. I followed a similar career route from a smaller community to a bigger city, that is typical of the media business. He met his wife and had children once he got established in Indy, but faced a kidney transplant. My wife was even tested to be a donor. After extensive absence from work, he elected to sue the company we worked for rather than accept his fate. Most of us disagreed with this decision that ultimately alienated all my fellow co-workers. It was the end of both a friendship and working relationship. In the meantime, we moved out of town and never reconciled. I felt responsible for hiring him and consider him my greatest hiring casualty. Now, he’s dead and I’ve lost track of his family.

I have yet to find an obituary, but I have to believe that his life was cut short because of the transplant.
I still wonder if I made a mistake by following the corporate line, rather than supporting his decision to sue following dismissal? I was not involved in the actions to take away his job, and I’m sure he did what he had to do to protect his family. He was a jovial addition to my staff, adding some diversity to our organization. He quickly befriended his co-workers, but things changed dramatically when his health was threatened. Once again, a good life can be quickly ruined by illness. May he rest in peace!

I’m starting to lose more and more acquaintances that have played a role in my life. I can’t explain why some of us seem to attract bad health while others like myself somehow avoid this destiny. I would like to believe that my daily exercise keeps the doctor away, but I know it’s not that simple. Genetics and environmental issues play an important role in good health. I’m fortunate, especially when I see where others that I’m close to are not. The million dollar question is “why me?”

Ironically,The Judds are singing their classic country hit, “Why not me?” in the background as I approach the end of the documentary. It’s an appropriate way to put the finishing touches on this post:

“Why not me on a rainy day?
  Why not me to love your cares away?
  Why not me?
  Why not me when the nights get cold?
  Why not me when you’re growin’ old?
  Why not me?”

What’s the most exercise you get with a treadmill? Moving It! My wife bought it for me, disturbed with the fact that I would run on icy days in an attempt to maintain my running streak. Today was day #3918 without missing, a habit I hope to be able to continue for many years to come. Admittedly, the treadmill has come in handy while we’ve lived here in Portland, particularly after a dizzy spell that I experienced one morning. (See Post #809). I’ve run in nearly every condition from freezing cold to blazing hot – through rain storms hail, and winds that stop you in your tracks. We’ll no longer have room for that treadmill, so I will simply have to do without it in the future. A friend is coming this afternoon to pick it up, but I have concerns lugging it down the stairs and loading it into her truck. In fact, I’ve lost some sleep thinking about the best way to do it without damaging my back.

I’m not a spring chicken any more, so I have to be careful about lifting heavy objects. I’ve spent too much time with the chiropractor and acupuncture specialist to risk further discomfort. Not to mention, the fear of breaking or spraining something while falling down the stairs. I did hire professionals, but the treadmill doesn’t fit into the timing of our move. There will be at least three of us to get it out of the house, but it will still be more sweat and strain than a workout on the very machine we’ll be carrying. I’ll be glad to get it over with, and focus next on the piano, another of our possessions that others would like to have but don’t have the means to move.  

As I was running this morning, I felt like I was carrying that piano on my back. It made me think of some of the slower guys who I used to play softball with in the media leagues. We joked about their Wurlitzer backpacks, trying to simply get from first to second base. I was fast then, but not anymore. My legs sometimes feel like concrete as I navigate the streets every morning. It was once effortless to run, but now it’s exhausting. I’ve gone from sprinting, to running, to jogging, to chugging along! Sometimes, I feel like I’m on a treadmill – getting nowhere. I’m sure I look silly out there, pretending to be an athlete at my age. Even though my balance is off, I should feel fortunate to be able to still put one foot in front of the other. 

In our new apartment, the treadmill will no longer serve as a crutch. Fortunately, the neighborhood where we’ll live is not a hilly as our current address. We’re at 500-1000 feet right now, as opposed to the 50 foot average near the Willamette River where I will be doing my future runs. There should be less ice and snow, but still plenty of rain along with more traffic. I’ll also have to deal with more cross-streets, pedestrians and older sidewalks. There are no excuses when you’re trying to maintain a consecutive streak, so I’ll be out there every day regardless of the circumstances. If not, I’m sure there is a gym nearby with a treadmill or an indoor track. “The Streak” will go on!