About Water Running

I really do understand the need for me to appreciate the opportunity to participate in the running community. It's a privilege to be able to have enough money to buy a good pair of running shoes, more running shirts than I will ever need and to have a job that provides me food, a safe place to sleep and enough money left over to waste on a collection of cool shades. As a matter of fact I'm currently obsessed with buying a new pair of Bono wraparound shades, not because they're designed for running but only because I think they might help me stir people up a bit. I think part of my responsibility as a distance runner is to provide as much entertainment as I can for anyone who might be extremely bored and decide to watch a bunch of damned fools try to run further than five miles.

It's important for my mental health to try to remain grateful that I have two legs that will still move forward, that I have found some people who like to do crazy crap like training for distance runs and that I have some lung capacity left after all these years.

Okay, I'm well aware of all of this good stuff and that it's important for me to be grateful and stay away from the unsettling feeling that the "I wants" lead me too. But my gratitude evaporated into a pool of water early Saturday morning.

The downward spiral started when the sun failed to rise over the east edge of Lake Michigan. Instead of sun I saw a cloud of water hanging over the Lake and as I began gearing up to meet my group at 6:30 in the morning for our 12 mile training run my thoughts ran from. 1. Get back in bed and pull the covers over your head. 2. Call your running buddy Bambi and tell her you're really sick. 3. Run your Trek into a tree somwhere on the 30 minute ride to Montrose Harbor so you'll have an excuse for missing this run. 4. Make a commitment once and for all to quit this running business, take up chess or checkers or head back into the bars...air conditioned bars with de-humidifiers, strobe lights, jammin tunes and dancing girls.

I knew I was screwed as soon as I left my little home and began the 30 minute bike trip to meet the troops. The air wasn't air, it was damned water! It wasn't hot, maybe 70 degrees, but it was not air I was breathing and I could tell that the morning would only be an experience of survival, another oxygen deprived character building or destroying slog.

I've been running for about 15 years and I've done enough runs in these conditions to know what was coming and I wasn't looking forward to it. I was spoiled during the previous Saturday's little 8 miler in near perfect running weather. The kind of run you want to share with anyone who will listen, the one where every stride was effortless, every breath was a gift and the finish was a burst of joy because you could have gone forever.

I met my group at 6:30 and lo and behold I wasn't the only grump ass in the crowd. Bambi was already pissed off about something, Sara a new runner was growling because I don't think she knows why she keeps showing up for this crazy business. And one of the zany running coaches offered the understatement of the year "the humidity is a little high." Why can't they just tell it like it is, something like. "This air sucks and anyone who wants to try this should have their head examined." Needless to say, I'll never be a running coach, a pace leader or even a good example. Runners can always use me as a measurement of their progress and an ego builder, like "well at least I'm a better runner than him."

The only reason I stayed with this run is because I know how much fun I have on marathon day. It has been said running is 90 percent mental so I turned on my mind to the need to do this run so I can get in shape to get through a 26.2 mile run on October 7 here in Chicago.

There were maybe a dozen or 14 who started in my pace group Saturday morning and a few were making idle chit chat the first two miles but I just wasn't in the groove yet. Bambi was fuming about something so I just shook her off and left her back to annoy someone else for awhile. I think her friend Jill had to listen to her those early miles. I had my own pot boiling so I just focused on keeping pace and trying to breath. The pace leaders, the terror twins Emily and Meagan were doing their job, metronomes that they are, and were really upbeat especially given the humid conditions. There must be a special place in running heaven for people like that. Too bad I won't be joining them.

The first four miles were basically awful, not only oppressive humidity but no breeze, it was like running through a darned steam room without the heat. A 10 degree bump in the temperture and I would have been toast for sure. As we crossed over the foot bridge near North Avenue a blast of cool air coming off the Lake hit us and there was a collective cheer from the group, so I knew I wasn't the only one struggling and I think everyone wanted to peel off our shirts and fully absorb the breeze. I suppose Tim and I could have done that but out of respect for the girls, who chose to retain their dignity, we kept our shirts on too. Believe it or not some of us guys just grew up with this equality thing ingrained in us by our fathers and our mothers.

It's a six mile run from Montrose Beach to Navy Pier, our turnaround point and we stopped for a quick breather under the shade trees and the pace leader Meagan offered everyone a gummy worm or something so I took an orange one, hell anything at this point to survive the return trip. Sweat had been running off of me by about a half mile out and by this point every thing was sopping wet, socks shoes, fanny packs, cash...everything.

Four of the group had either dropped or dropped back at this point, one with some serious knee problems which I never like to hear about and I'm concerned about her. A few others were just pooped, and I can understand that. The rest of us were just standing around sipping whatever fluid of choice we had brought and kind of staring at each other and yammering a bit, at least that's my perception of the gathering. Someone else may have taken away some deep enlightening thoughts from that informal little meeting but I was thinking "shit, six more miles of hell to go."

The return trip was better, a little breeze had come up across the Lake and at least it helped cool down the old body and gave me hope I had a chance to finish this run.

I had been running in the middle or back of the pack all morning, partly to meet people and partly to keep track of any serious problems that might come up, like freakin collapses or something of that nature. Keep in mind that many of these runners are doing this for the first time, their first 12 miler, their first attempt at running a marathon or half marathon, and their first long run through water. I don't claim to be an expert but I have been running long enough to know myself pretty well. I knew this was difficult for me but I wasn't dizzy, wasn't experiencing extreme fatigue so I was alert enough to keep an eye on my comrades for signs of such trouble, it's part of my responsibility as a friend and fellow runner.

A few more dropped on the return trip and everyone, including myself, checked on their well-being as we kept trudging ahead. I think the terror twins appreciated the reports and they often would check on those of us in the back of the pack, so despite the struggle, there was a good supportive and bonding experience that happened Saturday morning.

There were many positives for me that came out of Saturday's run:

1. I saw my son Jake doing his 5-6 mile run, hollered at him but he didn't hear me. The girl running next to me said "he's in a groove." I smiled. I know the feeling.

2. I saw my son's squeeze Jessica training with her TNT fund-raising group and stopped for a brief chat with her then had to sprint to catch my group and was reminded my fatigue was in my brain, not my body.

3. Seeing them out there training, getting in shape was a big lift for me. I wouldn't have blamed them or anyone for bagging a run through water.

4. Sara, a new runner, wanted to go fast the last three miles. I told her to have at it because I wasn't going to go with her. She held back until about a quarter mile to go then asked the pacers if she could go and she went ahead, really fast. I told Sara she needs to step up her pace a notch or two. She's really fast and I'm not. Dammit!

5. Several runners were beaming because they had just completed their longest run ever and I congratulated them and I meant it.

6. I met a new runner named Mary Kate, who's doing this for the first time, never ran before and she said it's easier than she thought it would be. One of her goals is to run a marathon. As usual, I was blown away because as I watched her run off and on Saturday I could see that easy natural stride, graceful movement throughout the body, seemingly without effort. The motion and she are beautiful.

I rode my little trek home after the run and the biggest problem I had was getting on and off the damned bike, the biking motion felt good and was good for my legs. Rested for about an hour and got to my little yoga class at noon and wanted to take a nap but went through the motions of stretching and twisting and felt better at the end.

So I'm happy to report I survived a run through water and also can say there were no negatives.

I'm just having a hard time growing up, but someday I'll get there.

Thirty miles for the week, no injuries...knock on wood...starting to taper for the Chicago Distance Classic on August 12 and then the mileage starts to build in preparation for the Chicago Marathon on October 7.

Please Jesus or somebody, give me an easy run soon!