Eclipse 2024

Air B&B for Eclipse Weekend 4/8/24

 The word I will not miss after this year is "totality."

A total lunar eclipse viewable in a swath of the northeast occurred on Monday, April 8th, Barb's birthday.  Almost a year prior, in preparation, she booked an Air B&B in Kent, NY, on the shore of Lake Ontario.  Even a year ahead, there were few choices. Still, Barb found a wonderful little cottage right in the middle of the eclipse's path of totality.  

We arrived Saturday morning.  Jen came out from Buffalo, Nicole (known as Nikki until recently) came up from Brockport, and Cheryl and Kyle came in from Syracuse. Eric, Eileen (6mo pregnant with the child we now know as Joan), and my grandson Alfie came up from New Jersey (the day after their earthquake).  So, on Saturday evening, we had the whole gang together.  I cherish the times when I have everyone under one roof.   We sat together on the large front porch into the evening, talking and laughing.  It reminded me a little of the stories my grandmother used to tell me of when all the kids would come home with their spouses or significant others.  My great-grandmother would wheel the piano onto the front porch, and great-grandpa Gremminger would pull out the fiddle, and there would be dancing into the twilight hours. 

Eventually, it began to get late, and Jen wanted to head back to Buffalo (an hour's drive), and Nikki wanted to head back to campus (20 minutes away). Everyone wanted to get into place before the big event on Monday. The cautions from news reports on the potential for terrible traffic on Sunday and particularly on Mondy had everyone a little spooked. By Saturday night, without incident, everyone was settled into place.

Sunday was a beautiful day, uneventful and relaxing, if a little cool.  It was a sunny day, though the prospects for Monday were looking cloudy, perhaps overcast. The discussion about the relative advantages of being in "totality" in a cloudy place versus seeing something short of "totality" on a clear day continued most of the day. We came to the conclusion that all anyone knows is that being in the "totality" is way cooler than not, regardless of the cloud cover.

Sunrise on Eclipse Day

As I began to write the outline for this essay on Monday morning of Eclipse Day, I found it interesting to think about the celestial bodies, huge things, things I have little knowledge about, barreling through space at over 2,000 miles an hour aligning for about 4 minutes (a measurement that itself is derived from their movement) and continuing their predictable path not to line up the same way again in my lifetime.  I had no expectations of the event.  I heard stories of the last eclipse, but they didn't stir my curiosity. 

Monday morning was cold, cloudy, and breezy. It even started to drizzle slightly. Since it was not conducive to picnicking, I was hopeful that there would be fewer potential crowds.

Early in the day, people were milling around, but not as many as I expected. Some cars were parked along the road, but no more than the previous day. This seemed to be enough of an out-of-the-way place to reduce the number of people.

I sat on the front porch and relaxed. After a while, I noticed more vehicles begin to arrive.   A parking lot for the boat launch was a short block away, and it started filling up, but not as quickly as I expected.   From the parking lot, there was a clear view of the horizon and a small park, so I expected a crowd.  It was chilly, and a damp breeze blew over the lake onto the shore.  Since we could walk to the parking lot, we took our time getting ready to walk over to our best vantage point.   Since it was cold, hats, gloves, and heavy jackets were the uniform of the day. Ten or twenty people were hanging around by the time we walked over, but it was nothing like the crowd I expected.

The sun was somewhere in the sky, but was hidden by dreary gray, overcast clouds. There was not a sky in the clouds, as my mother would have said.  It was a disappointment, but all accounts I read suggested that experiencing totality under overcast conditions would be more fascinating than witnessing it in near totality on a clear day.  We noticed the sky begin to darken, and when we looked up to the clouds, we caught a quick glimpse of the early crescent, but the clouds quickly swallowed it up.

Alfie was not impressed

We stood on a little fishing deck at the water's edge in the harbor, trying to stay warm, wondering how this would play out.  Just a little before 3:20pm, the light began to fade quickly.  We didn't notice any difference in the temperature, as we were already cold.  The darkness descending in the area was unmistakable and eerie.  We could see the light on the horizon beyond the edge of the moon's shadow on the Earth.  Where we stood, it got dark, much more so than I had expected.  Suddenly, it was like night.  Even though the cloud cover mostly blocked the view of the moon and sun interacting, the darkness was remarkable.  A few minutes later, it was daylight again. 

One of the most surprising things to me was that I felt like I had pulled an all-nighter for the rest of the day.   My mind kept telling me that there had been a cycle of day to night to dawn, and I had not slept.  The fact that the "sunrise" was in a different place wasn't relevant to the equation.  I wasn't even that physically tired, but I had the same endorphin high that comes with dawn after working all night on a project or seeing the sunrise after being up all night with a sick child.  

Actual Sunset on April 8th, 2024

In the evening, the sky cleared, and we were treated to a beautiful sunset. 

 

It was certainly an experience. Jen and Nikki had different experiences that did not include the overcast sky, and I was happy for them. Everyone got home without too many traffic issues. Even Cheryl and Kyle, who left Monday evening, got home without much of an issue. Friends who went to Syracuse for the day told me that returning to Binghamton was a traffic nightmare.

Barb and I left Tuesday morning.   I really enjoyed the experience but mostly enjoyed having my family around.   

Morning Workout

CJ Indoor Track.

I wanted to write today, but I was struggling with a topic. When that happens, I turn to one constant in my life, running. The annual Binghamton Bridge Run Half Marathon (13.1 miles) race is on May 5th, 2024. I am less ready this year than in any of the previous twelve I've run. I have struggled with my training for several reasons, some perennial and some new. This year, I have struggled with a knee problem that seems to be resolving. Yes, just 30 days before the race.

I have resigned myself to the inevitable. This will likely be the slowest half-marathon I've run*. I'm okay with that. I still have two weeks to see what I can do to build endurance.  There is little I can realistically do to affect my speed at this point. If I work diligently and carefully, I may make some progress. If I press too hard, I'll re-injure myself. In any training plan, the first goal is to get to the start line healthy. The second goal is to cross the finish line. I haven't established a time goal yet, but I'll be satisfied to finish around 2:10. I once ran this race in1:40:48 (averaging 8:27/mile). That is far out of reach this year. Maybe next year. Even a 2:10 will depend on many variables I cannot control. The weather is chief among them. It is not uncommon to have a rainy Bridge Run, and the temperature can be very unpredictable.

Setting all of that aside is challenging but essential. I need to focus on the workout time I have before me. One workout I have tried to reintroduce to my routine now that my knee is more or less cooperating is the 6x800 at race pace (which will be in the neighborhood of 9:10/mile). This should be easy, and it may be. I've opted to run them inside on the indoor track at the Court Jester Athletic Club (the gym I belong to) because the weather outside is rainy, and it is dark at 5:30am. This morning, I decided that the challenges of the indoor track are more acceptable than those associated with being outside or on a treadmill.

The fundamental challenge with the indoor track at CJ is that it is 16 laps to a mile. There is a banked, 180-degree turn at each end of the track. So you run, hard-turn, run, hard-turn... ~8 times to do an ~800-meter (roughly a half-mile) distance. That is a lot of circles, and by the time you get a good stride along the straight part, you are almost into the turn, even at my expected, relatively slow, 9:10 pace. 

In the center of the track is an area for free-weight lifting. On the outside, there are two workout rooms and a drinking fountain. The combination results in foot traffic crossing the track at both ends on the corners.  This is another challenge with the indoor track. It is essential to pay attention to avoid collisions, which sometimes messes with your pace (both the avoidance and occurrence). Everyone tries to be aware of the potential for collision, so it usually isn't a problem, but it still requires mindful observation.

The track has two lanes. The inside lane is intended for walking, and the outside lane is intended for running. Presumably, the outside lane was used to calculate 16 laps/mile. The lanes are narrow and only two people can be accommodated abreast on the track. This can occasionally be problematic when you run and come up behind two people walking side by side or a slower runner passing a walker. Generally, people are considerate and try to stay out of each other's way, but because of the tight quarters, there is still a constant state of awareness required here that is not required on an outdoor track. Zoning out to music isn't a wise move here.

I stand looking at the track. I warmed up with a mile on the treadmill, getting my blood flowing, and the morning coffee's caffeine is sharpening my focus. My water bottle rests on the windowsill at the track's edge. A little old-time rock and roll is playing in my right earbud (I prefer to use just one when I'm indoors). My Garmin watch is set, ready to log my statistics and alert me if my pace moves off plan. All that's left is to press start. The hardest part of any intense workout is starting. I hesitate a moment longer and do a quick mental check-in with my knee; it seems sturdy enough. I plan to work hard, but the transition from the relative comfort of this moment to the stress of the workout is the part I dread the most. Once the body is committed, the mental focus takes over, and the doubt dissipates. I just need to get busy.

 I take a deep breath. A thousand rationalizations for aborting this workout flood through my mind. I'm accustomed to ignoring those inner demons, so I turn to look at the clock. The old adage "If you don't get started, you'll never finish" comes to mind, so I jog toward my starting point and press the start button on my Garmin watch as I cross it.

I start on the back straight part of the track. This first length of the track seems short. Gramin is already telling me that my pace is faster than planned. I feel energized; I feel fast. I know this won't last. I heed the electronic recommendation and ease up. There's no sense burning up in the first 1/16th of a mile. Starting too fast is a rookie error, one that I regularly make.

When I start, I'm the only one on the track. As I round the first of many 180 turns this morning, I cut the corner a little, dropping into the waking lane for a few steps. This eases the stress on my hips and then I can accelerate back to pace along the next straight section. This doesn't work well when others are on the track, so staying alert is key.

I accelerate again, noting that Gramin continues complaining that my pace is faster than the target. I make minor adjustments to my stride and pace as I look for the rhythm that keeps me at the target pace.  By the 6th lap, my adrenaline is under control, and I have settled into a cruising pace that is nearly on the mark, though there is a variance at the turns.  By lap 8, I'm out of breath, but feeling pretty good. I'm into it now. My knee feels sturdy. I walk for the first half of the 3-minute rest period, then move to an easy jog as I prepare for the start of the next interval.

The next interval goes well, and I dial in the pace more quickly, but also struggle to maintain it in the last couple of laps. This is where the work begins. There are now a few more people around: one or two on the track in the walking lane and a few crossing the track to move between rooms. I have to stay aware of where everyone is, and I hope they will do the same. It's time to get the work done.

*Author's note: I am finishing this essay well after finishing the race I was training for. My half-marathon time was 2:16:47. It is not my slowest, but it is close. I am publishing this just a few weeks before my 2025 race. That will be another story.