Nine tons of gravel

I'm sure it was a mistake, but on Friday, this huge truck backed into our driveway and deposited some 19,800 pounds (six cubic yards) of "3/8 inch clear granite" stone. Small round pebbles, in other words, destined for the dog runs at the back of our property. Every four or five years we get a "top-up" for the runs, as over time, the dogs either eat the stones, or throw them at groundhogs, or whatever, but they gradually seem to disappear, in favour of mud that magnetically attaches itself to their coats.

It then falls to me to cart all this stone some 150 feet to the runs. On Sunday and Monday, I moved 45 wheelbarrow loads, about half the pile, and completed the top-up of one of two runs. After about 20 loads, my very elderly and poorly maintained wheelbarrow literally broke in half, meaning a trip to Home Depot. I came away with a six cubic foot steel beauty, made in Holland of all places, and guaranteed for life, either its or mine.

Each wheelbarrow load weighs some 200 pounds. I thought it might be lighter in the fancy new wheelbarrow, but no such luck. It seemed to me that this work would equate to at least one free weight workout, so I deferred yesterday's usual routine in favour of the gravel pile. My arms are now about an inch longer, I guess. The dogs think it is all quite wonderful, and promptly demonstrated their enthusiam in ways you can imagine.

I am the 50 minute pacer for this coming Sunday's "Rattle Me Bones" 10k run for the Ottawa Hospital. This is about 2-3 minutes slower than I would normally run it if racing. When I did my 9.8k run this morning, I could sure notice the effect of the stone moving in the upper backs of my legs, and slowed my pace a bit. It took about 7 k before the sensation went away. So the rest of the gravel may sit there for a few days, as I do not want to risk not doing the race pacing as planned. The good news is that no one will steal the gravel.

After an absence of several weeks, or maybe months, I went running last night with my beloved Hash House Harriers. This world wide group of running crazies has the right approach: any such foolish expenditure of heartbeats should be accompanied by liberal quantities of beer, lusty songs, decidedly unhealthy food, and general merriment. Hey, we've earned it. Of course, I was also cleverly using the gathering to solicit more volunteers for the Rattle Me Bones, and caught several who were so busy running and drinking beer that they could not refuse. On on!