Toni's Mug

A simple brown box arrived in the mailbox today with nary a numeral used in it's return address. That's the first thing I did as I stood beside the mailbox, to look to see who had sent it.

Inside was a coffee mug from Toni. And in her part of the U.K. folks don't receive their mail with a string of numbers, but instead go by whose barn you live near on a lonesome country lane.

It isn't the first box I've gotten from her either. After my Eugene marathon in 2008 she had sent me two mugs with my finishing time nicely engraved on the side of each. She had made two and couldn't decide which to send and so packaged up both to let me choose; which I did...one I keep at home and the other is my at work mug.

I get comments and questions about it all the time, which is really fun. It admittedly doesn't get washed very often and frequently will sit overnight or the entire weekend with a cold thick sludge of once proud brew in it, which gives it an ever increasing mottled patina on the inside. This melds well with what I see as it's wonderful uniqueness and handmade charm, but Toni would only refer to as "ugly", which it most certainly is not.

So this third mug has arrived and I can see from it the stylish artistic evolution that Toni has made on the potters wheel. This newer cup is taller with a more substantial feel in my hand. Like the others it has my marathon PR on one side, this time 3:30:03, but this one also has the letters BQ on the other.

I can't begin to say how much this gift means to me, not just because of the generosity, but because of who it is from. Another person who sees the world a lot like I see it; on a journey of exploration and giving, reaching out from a good heart to someone so far away and virtually unknown, but with a shared love of running and living. She began her own blog a little while before mine with a wish to chronicle her progress in running and pottery and this gift is a reminder to me of both of those things about her. It's become my mug of choice after whipping up a thick steamy hazelnut latte on a cool winter afternoon.

She kidded me that I had better not set a new PR or she'll have to throw yet another mug on the potters wheel, and I assured her that that is not very likely. My current time just might be my high water mark, and that's okay with me. I guess race times are sort of like Toni's street address on that little brown box. Numbers just aren't important.

Gat-Glenn-Burg, 10-Uh-C

When we go on a trip my huge suitcase is packed full. It doesn't get that way until I throw in my red duffel (Lynda calls it my diaper bag) with all my running gear in it. I take a lot of running clothes.

Let's face it, if you don't pack the gear, you ain't gonna get any while you're away from home (pause...while Josh walks through the door I just opened up WIDE for him. Are you in yet Josh? Okay good, let's continue). Not only that but if you don't take your running stuff with you, you can't run either! So after everything else goes in the suitcase, the duffel full of shoes, socks, shorts, water bottle, Garmin, hat, and of course-diapers, goes on top and then I try to zip it all closed.

Which is cool except that the entire time we were in Tennessee to visit my sister this week, I ran for a grand total of one time and four miles. Was it worth it?

HECK YES! I really like running in the places I visit. I guess it like a dog stopping to pee on every fence post he passes when you take him for a walk outside his neighborhood. But beyond marking new territory, I like using the run as a way of experiencing the new surroundings.

How better to more intimately absorb a new place than to get into nothing more than a pair of running shoes, some shorts and a tech shirt and start trodding down it's pathways? Oh, I suppose you could get down and roll around in it (I'm continuing my comparison to the dog here if you hadn't caught that) but if you don't want to embarrass your kids any more than you already do, running around the new place is likely a much more acceptable option. Plus you get all those other benefits like fitness and so forth.

So to add to my list of spectacular vacation destinations of which I have ran in the last year, which include the rim of the Grand Canyon and the Capitol Mall in Washington DC, I give you (drum roll please) Gatlinburg, Tennessee!

Yes, gateway to the Great Smoky Mountains (shouldn't they spell that with an "E" in there somewhere - like the bear?), home of the Salt and Pepper Shaker Museum, Hillybilly Golf and Fannie Farkle's Restaurant (they claim to have the cleanest restrooms in town), I can now boast Gatlinburg.

And experience it on the run I did. Laced up around 10:30 on Valentines Day morning and stepped out into the cool Tennessee air outside our resort cabin. It's a beautiful little resort with new cabins overlooking the hills and a valley below. The cabin we stayed in for two nights had a huge game room in the lower level with a pool table and real arcade type video games. So the boys were totally entertained and happy. Out on the back deck was a hot tub where I was able to relax and talk with my sister while it snowed all around us. Yeah, who would have guessed we'd have to go to Tennessee to get some winter this year? But that's how it turned out.

The cabin was up a steep hill so my run started with a long downhill and winding grade until I reach a street where we would later go to get a belated breakfast. The place is called "Flapjack's" and the wait staff dress up like forest rangers. Are you getting a picture of Gatlinburg yet? I ran along the little commercial strip and then up and over a wee hill which has left a more natural undeveloped section before dropping back down the other side into the main tourist area of town.

As I ran there I thought about home and of Oregon where a "Ripley's Believe It or Not" museum visible from the entrance booth of our National Park would be unthinkable. I turned right onto the strip and started running past all the fun and games. I paused once to take my own picture and then proceeded on. I made another right, this time onto Dudley Creek road, and started up the other side of the hill to the cabin, my pace slowing from a comfortable 8:45 per mile to a sluggish 11:00 as I chugged slowly up.

It was good to see my sister and her adopted state. It's a place where "you" has become "y'all" and when they mean to include everyone with you it's "all y'all" which is different and kinda fun. Before heading to the airport I struggled to close the suitcase around the barely used gear in my over stuffed diaper bag. But it was worth the extra baggage because I did go for a nice little run in Tennessee. http://connect.garmin.com/player/24665803