Sunday morning, a running day – I’m running every other day now in my 79th year. Satchie, our male poodle and a running buddy (along with Dice, a female border collie), jumps up, excited to see me in running clothes. Our L.L. Bean thermometer at 36 degrees! First day in the 30s this fall. I add a wool cap and light fleece.
Out and down the steps of our Shore Drive home with Satchie biting the leash. “No!” I tug back. Dice, off leash, quick out beside the vehicle, around, down – still now, laser eyed back at us “sheep.” Dogs up and in, I drive 1.5 miles to Burnett Road, take a left onto gravel and park near the new milk facility at Recompence Campground at Wolfe’s Neck Farm.
I attach both leashes, begin running roadside left and start my Fitbit. We’re off toward Wolfe’s Neck Woods State Park 1.5 miles distant. Nice morning, 8 o’clock, early sun, patches of frost in the grass beside the road, fall colors fading; cows now grazing across from the farm as we continue past and down to Casco Bay bright like seltzer sparkling away to my left. We cross the wooden bridge at Little River. As we ascend from the bridge approaching our usual left turn onto the tar of Wolf Neck Road, I spot my neighbor, Joan Benoit Samuelson, and a prematurely gray (must be – he runs much faster than I) male partner ahead of us on our course toward the state park.
Just beyond the park entrance, my halfway point, I turn, reward both buddies with a biscuit and begin my return. Shortly thereafter, Joan and her partner come up quickly from behind. We exchange, “Morning, Joan,” “Morning, Sandy,” as they pass.
Nice to see Joan running, arms moving, elbows away from her sides; right leg behind kicks out slightly to the right. I can always tell it’s Joan. Another quarter-mile and on my right, Joan is alone, walking toward me from Wolf Neck Meeting House (probable pit stop).
“First day in the 30s, Joan,” I say. She joins me running a parallel course directly across the road, “Yes, Sandy, nice to see you out here, still moving …”
Undaunted, I ask, “What’s your time per mile for distance these days?”
“What do you think it is?” she asks, then, almost immediately, adds, “Between 7:15 and 7:45 minutes per mile. I’m hoping for a three-hour marathon at Boston this year. After that, I’m in my sixth decade doing this, that may be it for me!”
She is accelerating now, several hundred feet ahead and rejoining her partner. I call out, “No way, Joan, keep it up!”
When we return to the vehicle, Satchie and Dice each receive two biscuits. My stats: 3.5 miles; Time: 47:07; average mile 13:26; average heart rate 132; maximum heart rate 162; 524 calories burned; 6,901 steps.
Miles under 14 minutes. Excellent. Nice running with Joan.
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