Happy Holidays!

Reuters, the news company I work for, asked me to write a personal account of my experience this year concerning my heart attack and my return to the living. This piece ran globally on Sunday.

The "witness" stories are usually reserved for some Reuters correspondent who has witnessed first hand a battle in a war zone, a devastating tornado or a hurricane.

When I now think back on my embarassing "crash" in August and all of the commotion I brought to friends, family and co-workers I must admit that the powers that be at Reuters were correct in determining that I was now officially baptized and was qualified to write a much revered witness piece.

All of you became an even more important part of my life this year, especially my 10 year running buddy Tanya aka "Bambi". If she would not have immediately gone into action the outcome may have been much different. I can just see a group of sweaty well-meaning runners standing over me murmuring "gosh he seemed like a pretty good guy and a good runner, so sad":)

Welp, I'm still kicking along and trying to get back into shape for the 2008 running season.

I hope to see you on the trail or on the sidelines cheering next year and most of all I hope you'll hold all of your friends and loved ones a little closer to your heart this holiday season, I sure will!

Sam

14:00 16Dec07 -WITNESS-Cheating the grim reaper: a heart attack survived

By Sam Nelson
CHICAGO, Dec 16 (Reuters) - The smile on her face was the first recollection I had of being alive, knowing something had happened and that whatever it was I had been at its centre.

She was one of the young runners I had been training with early that sunny Saturday morning. She always seemed able to laugh at anything, even death.

Humour may be an acquired trait of distance runners.

She told me I had suffered a heart attack. My heart had stopped, was shocked back into rhythm, and then stopped again in the hospital, and was shocked back into rhythm again.

Why me? A 63-year-old with six marathons under his belt? My running was great, but my heavy smoking habit wasn't. My heart attack took place on Aug. 4, 2007 on a lakeside trail in Chicago. I was incredibly lucky to survive it.

I was finishing an easy six-mile (9.5 km) run ahead of the Chicago Distance Classic, a half marathon the following weekend. I was having a good time, it was great to be alive and moving.

I remember a sudden rush of puzzling thoughts: "I'm getting sick? This isn't right. What did I eat last night? What did I eat this morning? I'm getting sick on such a short easy run? During speed training, maybe. Sometimes in the last mile of a race if I push it. But now?"

I told my running buddies I needed to veer off the path and be sick. "We'll wait for you," I heard Tanya say.

Those were the last words I remember. I'm told I fell flat on my face, didn't move a muscle or make a sound.

I had always imagined a heart attack as a painful struggle: tight chest muscles, shortness of breath, numbness in an arm, textbook warning signs. This one was quick and painless.


HELP AT HAND
Great luck -- or some would say miracles -- kicked in.

Tanya had been reading about CPR the previous evening. She began blowing oxygen into my lungs and compressing my chest 10, 20, 30 times between breaths to try to keep my broken heart muscle and stifled brain cells on life support.

My other running buddy Jill helped. A lifeguard who ran by also stopped and helped with CPR. Someone called an ambulance. Another runner, a nurse, couldn't find a pulse. But my life savers wouldn't give up. They kept up the exhausting CPR for 12 minutes before paramedics jolted my heart back into a rhythm.

So I was dead for 12 minutes. My heart stopped again on Saturday night, requiring a second round of electric shock to jump-start my life again.

People later asked me: you were dead -- what was it like? Did you see a white light? An angelic face? I remember only waking up, coming back to life, seeing familiar faces.

It feels eerie to think of how many solo runs I had been on since late winter, without potential life-saving buddies.

One of the arteries feeding blood and oxygen to my heart had been 100 percent blocked and another was 95 percent blocked. I had chain smoked for 40 years. Now I have stopped.

Cardiologists and other doctors could find nothing other than smoking, along with years of stress including long days and short nights, as the causes for the artery blockages.

Two days later a surgeon opened my chest and carried out a double by-pass, installing new arteries taken from my left leg.

My first hobbling steps from bed the next day were a dramatic shift from the 30 miles (48 km) I had run the previous week and from my busy days of running around and reporting on the frantic grain markets of the Chicago Board of Trade.

The surgeon told me just one percent of people who have a massive heart attack survive.

I went home six days after the heart attack. Seven weeks of rest and slow, steady physical therapy followed. I returned to work as a reporter at Reuters Chicago news bureau on Oct. 1.

Now I've resumed running, initially three days a week at an easy pace for 30 minutes on a treadmill, and have tested the trails outdoors on two "easy" three mile (4.8-km) runs. I'm really out of shape. But I have a lot of good people in my life to be grateful for and that keep me moving.

(To more Reuters Witness stories click on: http://www.reuters.com/news/globalcoverage/reutersWitnesses) (Editing by Peter Bohan, Frances Kerry and Sean Maguire) ((sam.nelson@reuters.com. +1 312 408 8720)) Keywords: WITNESS HEART/ATTACK
Sunday, 16 December 2007 14:00:24RTRS [nL14234978] {C}ENDS


















Christine StebbinsCorrespondentReuters (t) 312-408-8576 (m) 312-371-3980 (f) 312-983-7351 christine.stebbins@reuters.comReuters Messaging: christine.stebbins.reuters.com@reuters.netReuters news and information reaches one billion people every day. Get the latest news at Reuters.com
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Thanksgiving

I had much to be grateful and thankful for this Thanksgiving, especially my very life, which I admit I used to take for granted.

In my younger years I really couldn'g grasp the fact that I REALLY might get old someday and until this year I had never experienced the exciting event of dying of a heart attack and then being brought back to life by a couple of running friends, paramedics and then get my chest opened up and a couple of new arteries installed.

It's been an eventful year so far and Thanksgiving day I was glad to be able to eat a nice meal prepared by my son's girlfriend and enjoyed the company of my daughter, her hubby and two of my granddaughters. I won't be taking these special days for granted anymore.

My running was put on hold by my setback and I haven't been to good ol cardio rehab for two weeks because the blood pressure medicine the doctors put me on was dropping my blood pressure so low and keeping my heart rate so low that I came close to passing out at work. Therefore a panicky trip to ER, I was able to cab myself there this time, a couple days at Northwestern Hospital and a new medication regime. Recovering from a heart attack and open heart surgery is trickier than recovering from a tight hamstring or a pesky IT band problem. I'm floundering in unfamiliar waters right now and trying to stay brave and confess I have my moments of fear, and I don't like that one bit. Depression is apparently a part of recovery too and I don't like that feeling either....DUH!

I will get back to my cardio rehab girls tomorrow (Monday, November 26) and hopefully I can resume a little running on the treadmill this week.

I went to my "easy" yoga class Saturday and today (Sunday) went to my first pilates class since my infamous "event" in early August. Pilates is deceptively difficult and is a very effective core and total body strength workout and I was pleased to get through the hour of rather strenous activity. The "girly" leg work in pilates sets off a healthy burn in places in my hips and hip flexors that I never would get working out on my own. I put more pressure than usual on my chest and nothing fell apart but boy I've lost strength and endurance the past four months of recovery.

My favorite pilates instructor told me I still looked great. Naturally I thanked her and told her I hope to feel great ASAP. Suppose I'm in a hurry to get well and have to be grateful to be alive, be able to walk and talk and have an opportunity to someday run a bit.

I hope your holidays are going great and if not great at least I hope you can see a ray of light through whatever problem you're facing.

Life is short, run hard and often! But also take a break once in awhile, enjoy an easy run or stroll and soak up the current chilly breeze that is slipping through the Midwest.

20 And Counting

Twenty years ago this Halloween I drove through a rainstorm from Kansas City to Chicago to take a new job writing about the grain markets at the Chicago Board of Trade. Not too long after I began my new job the corn futures market soared it's daily trading limit higher because of pending drought in the Midwest Corn Belt. It's been non-stop for me ever since and I've never regretted moving here.

My current editor-in-charge for my present company, Reuters News, treated me to a 20th anniversary lunch on Friday and it gave each of us an opportunity to talk about our respective dreams about eventually working here and at the Board. When you're a commodities journalist, correspondent or editor and assigned to report and write about the grain markets, the CBOT is the place to be. I told KT, my chief editor, that when I was a little farm boy growing up in Kansas, I used to dream and wonder what it would be like to live and work in Chicago, on LaSalle Street and get in the middle of the frantic action in the grain trading pits at the Board.

Boy did my dream come true!

It's been 20 years of ups and downs in the markets and in my personal life. KT asked me what I was thinking when I was driving here for the transfer and I told him I was thinking "I wish it would quit raining so I could see where I was going." I also told him I felt great when I got here and I still like it here. I thought I might stay a couple years and move on but I'm still pounding out the news.

My work life and career blossomed when I got here and I'm a very lucky guy but since this blog was originally intended as a running blog I feel obligated to write at least a little about my running life.

When I transfered here 20 years ago if you would have told me that I would eventually start running, complete six marathons, about that many half marathons, eight or 10 10ks and more 5ks than I can count, have foot surgery, IT problems, SI joint sprain, go into full cardiac arrest and die for a few minutes, get revived, have double by-pass surgery and start planning another running career I would have told you to get counseling right away.

My anniversary week has been a good one and it was nice to get some recognition from my boss for my 20 years of writing about the CBOT grain futures markets. Fourteen of those years have been with Reuters News and I've never regretted making the move to Reuters. Call me silly or old fashioned but the mandate within my company and within me has always been "get it first but first get it right." Always a challenge but it adds length to a company's life and to a career.

KT offered a toast to "another 20 years" and I'm not ruling it out.

My workout week has gone equally as well. Three runs on the treadmill, half hour each run at nice easy 4.5 mph, 13 min pace and a nice light sweat and I felt great. I've been doing nothing but walking since my release from the hospital the second week of August and all of the experts including myself insisted on letting the breast bone completely fuse before running a step. I think I"ll be okay.

I also went on a long bike ride Saturday morning to see two of my pace group friends Tim and Seiko run a marathon at the Chicago 50-50. The ultra was originally set up as a 50k and 50 miler but they added a marathon for anyone who had a disappointing run at the Chicago Marathon on October 7.

It took me about 40 minutes to ride down to south shore to saw howdy to them and 40 minutes back into a darned chilly wind. It really felt good to get some air, exercise and I think Tim and Seiko were glad to see me because there weren't very many spectators. I also saw a running bud Tom from work who threw himself into his first ultra, the 50k. His response for entering "why not!" Guess the running bug has bitten him too.

I walked the 15 minutes to my gym early this morning, Sunday morning, intending to ride the exercise bike but elected to jump into my first yoga class since I went down in early August. I'm happy to report the chest held up fine, no soreness at all but boy I'm out of shape and this yoga class was a bit more aggressive than I planned but I was able to hang on for the one hour session.

Looking forward to picking up the pace a little this week and also have this new dream that I might be able to run the annual Turkey Trot 8k (5 miler) this Thanksgiving morning in Lincoln Park.

Lying in my drug-induced fog in the hospital in early August I not only thought my running was over but thought walking and my very life had ended. The first month of recovery, walking with a cane for balance, brought thoughts that maybe some day I'll be able to walk at a steady pace and perhaps jog a little. Everything started falling in place my second month of recovery and I could see that not only would I be able to walk okay but possibly next year begin running.

Now, at the end of my third month of reovery and my 20th year in the Windy City, I'm thinking I'll get in a nice easy five miles Thanksgiving Day and the jury is out on where I go next year.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I have a lot to be thankful and grateful for this year and the opportunity to run is some delicious giblet gravy on that big pile of mashed potatoes.

Half Hour Run

Okay, it wasn't fast and it wasn't very long, only 30 minutes on a treadmill but it was a run, my first run in something like three months, since the morning of August 4th. I remember that Saturday morning very well, five miles into a six mile run then kerboom, on my butt out like a light with my first and I hope last heart attack.

I showed up Monday evening for my prescribed cardio-rehab session at the gym down the street and my favorite cardio girl asked me "are you ready to run?" I could have cried, laughed, hugged her, jumped up and down screaming at the top of my lungs OH HELL YA!. But I quietly said "yes I am." And I confess that deep down inside there was a bit of fear that maybe I could not do it..

For around four weeks I had been walking the treadmill then striding on the eliptical trainer and waiting for the moment I could try a little run and it was a tiny one, but damn it felt good! I set out on a nice and easy 4-1/2 mile per hour pace, something like 13 min per mile and got this ol heart up to the low 130 beat per minute area and stayed there. I wanted to push a little more but I also want to ease back into this running biz and try to avoid doing something really stupid. Near the end of the 30 minute run my heart rate did climb up close to 140, so I FINALLY got in a workout, a good sweat to the point I toweled off a couple of times and soaked my gym shirt pretty well. Twas beautiful! And this from someone who used to despise treadmill work.

I even got an atta boy. "You runners are amazing, you did good," the beautiful cardio girl said. Of course I'm in love again. She had told me at my first cardio session they would have me up and running soon. She's just cool! Maybe she just told me runners are amazing to make sure I came back to rehab but I don't care, it worked, I'm going back for another session.

The five minute cool down was eventful too since instead of walking slowly on the treadmill I decided to walk around the track that circles the gym area including the cardio setup and didn't realize the heart rate monitor I was wearing didn't throw a signal to the monitors from the far side of the track, so I got scolded a little.

"Don't walk around the track because you flat-lined on the monitor and we thought we lost you," she said. However, she said it politely and with a smile and told me to just walk up and down the little straightaway so they can keep track of me and my healing heart.

So, as usual, I caused a little commotion but I apologized and won't do that again but I'm looking forward to my next run. It will be another easy one but it's a long way from flat on my back the first week of August with a fresh nine-inch incision through my breast bone. And I'm a long way from walking with a cane through much of August and early September.

Maybe there really is life after heart surgery?

I'm Eyeing The Road

I'm into my fourth week of cardio rehab and my third week back at work full time in my job as a correspondent for Reuters News, feeling pretty good and starting to eye the possibility that I'll be back on the road running soon.

I've been turned loose on the eliptical trainer and told I can now work as hard as I feel like working, so I turned up the heat on myself last Friday and again on Monday and bumped the ol' heart rate up to 120 to 150, a move that brought the cardio girl over to my side to ask if I was okay. "You're heart rate is really up there, are you okay?" she asked. I was better than okay and finally felt like I was getting somewhere, into a light sweat and feeling good about myself and my effort.

I think as a runner my idea of workout is quite a lot different than many others. My perception of really hard work is still somewhere between the 15-20 mile area of a marathon and very, very hard begins somewhere between 20 and 26.2. I suppose work and workout is all relative and really is a personal thing.

I jumped the work and heart rate again on Monday and the other cardio girl told me later "you make it look easy." People have told me that all my life and I don't get it. Nothing has ever been easy for me so it's true that looks can be deceiving.

I confess it was nice to get a compliment about my workout and I've come to the conclusion that I need or think I need more attention than I care to admit. The running community is one place I go to get fairly consistent positive feedback and almost no criticism. Wouldn't it be nice if more of life's experiences could include less criticism and more affirmations. I think there would be less depression and almost no paranoia in this old world.

Work is going great. I like my job, the people I work with and am becoming more and more aware that my work ethic, which I'm proud of, is also a bit of a handicap in my social life...maybe a big handicap. I tend to lose focus in a quiet or casual social setting and start thinking that we should get busy and do something. Needless to say, I have some work to do in order to get a better social life going.

Anyway, just rambling here while I heal from my setback in early August. It's been a challenging year for me. I'm trying to learn from it and continue to seek positives from what has been a difficult situation.

30TH Chicago Marathon

Frankly, I don't want to write anything about what I saw today but since I started this blog I feel a certain responsibility to lay something down.

The 30th annual Chicago Marathon was held today (Sunday) and it certainly was one for the record books. The men's and women's finishs were decided by seconds and for the men micro-seconds, .05 second to be precise. They were possibly the most exciting head-to-head finishes ever although I confess I'm not a marathon historian.

That was the only positive I saw on the course today, unless you count the fact that only one person died in the ungodly oppressive heat instead of several dozen. And one death is of course very said and my heart, which is still beating thanks to my running buddy Tanya, goes out to the friends and family of this individual.

I was a spectator this year because of my heart attack and setback in early August so my son Jacob and I spent the day together keeping track of his squeeze Jessica who ran her first marathon as a charity runner for the Leukemia Society of America. Jacob and I were able to make contact with her within the first mile and she was optimistic and excited about her first thon. By the 4th mile she was already getting a bit concerned about having to slow her pace and by 12 miles she had slowed to a walk and said she was going to walk the rest of the damn thing. It was that bad, and I'm glad I didn't have to run it. When I looked east out of my window early Sunday over the lake, the sun wasn't coming up. There was water IN the lake and there was water OVER the lake, the humidity was obnoxious and I have often thought that had I been in condition to run, I just may have been one of those 10,000 prospective runners who decided to bag the race. That was just too much and depending on which news account you listen too something like 250 to 300 people ended up in the hospital. As it turned our, something like 40 ended up in the hospital and something like 200 to 300 needed medical attention on and off the course.

I do know from personal observation that ambulance sirens were wailing at a nearly steady pace from about noon to 2 pm. It was pretty ugly. The roughly 4 hour or slower runners were turned around past the halfway mark and sent back to the finish line in Grant Park. Jacob's girlfriend Jessica got her 30th anniversay Chicago Marathon medal, she raised the money for leukemia research, did the long training runs and other runs through the summer but most importantly she is well and is aware that the heat wave was a fluke. This wasn't what she or anyone else had planned, but it's what everyone got.

Isn't distance running a lot like life?:)

The Marathon

The Chicago marathon is on schedule for tomorrow (Sunday, Oct 7) and if today (Saturday, Oct 6) is any indication and the forecasts prove true for tomorrow, it's probably a good thing I'm not running that thing.

It's hot and humid this first full weekend of October and while I at times welcomed the heat and humidity on my training runs as "character building" and an aid to physical and overall mental toughness, I can't think of a more difficult 26.2 mile race than one in hot weather. Last year the marathon was held on a blustery chilly Sunday with highs around the mid-30s and, while it was a bit tough on spectators, I felt fine on the course and finished without a hitch. I'll watch this year, and considering my setback in early August, it's truly a gift to be able to walk and watch the other runners.

I finished my first full week of work this past week and it went fine. My peers and I even managed to squeak out a news scoop on Friday, so the boss and we were happy and we ended the week in an upbeat mood. It's great to get my mind on something other than my poor little bumps and bruises.

Also, I finished my second full week of cardio rehab and that's going good too. My favorite cardio girl, she's my favorite because she told me early on that she'd have me running soon, got me off the treadmill "you walk all the time anyway" and put me on an elipitical trainer. I was feeling good so I kept upping the resistance level but she hollered at me to back it down so I guess that means my heart rate was getting up a little higher than she liked.

I managed to get in a light sweat in my 40 minute session and although I know my mind is geared to harder effort, I also know I need to ease back into the training world...so I'm trying to be patient. A major concern of hers is my nine inch incision through my breast bone. The sternum needs to completely fuse or heal and I'm looking at early November as roughly the time frame that I might be able to get into a little light running, weights, yoga and pilates.

I miss the running and gym atmosphere and the people that I'm around when I'm working out.

It's lonely being a couch potato with no one around to bitch too. I keep reminding myself how lucky I am to be alive and that helps me get through each day. I also know that a lot of other people have some really tough serious problems to overcome and my healing heart goes out to them.

Treadmill Blues

I completed my fourth cardio rehab session late on Friday and knew you would be thrilled to pieces to read about my travels so I thought I'd take a few minutes to log my progress. My training now is on a treadmill with three electrodes attached to my body. One of the electrodes goes under my right collar bone, the other two are attached to my right and left rib cage. I stick on the three electrode connectors, snap each connector to a wire that leads to a little box which transmits my heart signals to a monitor screeen that the cardio technicians look at while I'm doing my thing. Aren't you glad to know that? I realize this isn't quite as exciting as telling you about a grueling 20 mile long run in the heat and humidity with biting horse flies nipping at my heels, but this is the best I can do at this point.

Anyway, back to the treadmill workouts and for any late comers to this blog site you need to know that I had a heart attack in early August during a training run, died for a few minutes, received CPR from my running friends, ended up in a hospital, had double by-pass surgery and have been recovering. The recovery is slow and basically a son-of-a-bitch! But, I'm alive.

The treadmill workouts last 40 minutes, five minutes warmup and cooldown and 30 minutes of walking. Hopefully I'll soon be running. The cardio girl started me a week ago at 2.5 mph, no incline which got my heart to 85 bpm. They keep bumping up the speed and incline because what I'm doing now requires almost no effort since I had been running 20-30 miles per week before my attack and also was doing at least one yoga and pilates class per week. So, on the surface I was in shape but my two main arteries feeding my heart obviously weren't in shape, one was totally blocked and the other 95 percent blocked, which is why I almost died. No one can tell me how I could run with that kind of blockage. So, I'm a freak.

Anyhoo, late Friday we jumped the walking speed to 3.8 mph which is around 15 min per mile pace and if we go faster than that I really need to run because I don't like speed walking. I have short legs and just a low tolerance for walking. I boosted the incline to 2 Friday, up from .5. I'm assuming the .5 is a half inch incline and the 2 is two inches. I need to ask someone about it but you treadmill experts will know what I'm talking about. The combination of 3.8 mph and 2 incline got my heart rate in the 105-110 bpm range. This is all very clinical and boring for me. The cardio girl asked me the effort level and I told her it was easy to somewhat difficult, whatever that may mean. In my runners mind somewhat difficult is the stretch between 15-20 miles and after that the effort level goes off the chart.

I've noticed that no one has asked me if I'm having fun, so we'll have to put fun on the backburner for awhile. Personally, I think the cardio people in charge of monitoring me have an even more boring job than I, so I'm pretty friendly and cooperative. I've noticed they switch shifts a lot and I'm looking forward to seeing the one who was on duty Wednesday because she's the one who told me she'd have me running in 3-4 weeks. "The breast bone needs to completely heal," she said. Sounds like a good idea.

I've healed to the point where I take only about a half dozen tylenol per day and I don't think I'd need those now, but I may as well screw up my life with a damned addiction to pain killers too, right?:) Just kidding.

On a very positive note, I spent a few hours per day in the busy Reuters newsroom this week and it was great to get back with my fellow commodities journalists. The markets keep hopping and early Monday I am set to return to full time duty. My energy level continues to improve so I think I'll be able to handle a full schedule now and easily work in my treadmill sessions each Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoon.

Life is short, enjoy!

Fog Is Lifting

The past several days have been pretty enjoyable considering the spot I've been in since early August.

I met my running group early Saturday when they were coming in from their "little" 10 mile run and it was a pure joy seeing their smiles and listening to their banter and laughter as they wound up the run by the traditional starting and ending point for our training runs, the Ben Franklin statue in Lincoln Park.

It was my first meeting with the big group since I went down on August 4th with what I now call a cardiac arrest and my following double by-pass open heart surgery two days later. My cardio rehab girl has informed me that what I had was the full-blown cardiac arrest, massive heart attack, the kind that kills people almost instantly rather than a heart attack. So, I stand corrected and I'm still pinching myself when I think of how fortunate I was to have good friends running with me that early Saturday morning who were willing to jump into the fray and save my hide.

My pace group went to brunch on Saturday at a place in Old Town called Flattops. It's one of those "build your own" meal deals and we all had a good time with our unique concoctions of scrambled eggs, omelettes and/or pancakes. The self-described crazy Asian girl Seiko has a not so secret recipe for a chocolate chip/blueberry pancake that really is delicious and she again was willing to share and our mutual running buddy Tanya has picked up on the formula so I think everyone was well fed and happy after brunch. I know I was feeling good.

My energy level keeps improving really fast now, which is a good sign, and my balance and stability are almost back to 100 percent which is a relief. My second cardio rehab session was Monday afternoon and my treadmill guru bumped my target up to a consistent 95 bpm which I'm maintaining by walking 3.2 mph. Aren't I the numbers guy though. Frankly, I'm still not sure what the hell I'm doing but I know the second session was up from a target of 85 bpm so I know there are no irregularities in my heart rhythm, which is a relief.

The cardio girl told me I would outgrow it quickly because of my previous conditioning. I asked here what I would do then and she didn't bat an eye when she said "well I'll have you running in three, maybe four weeks." That was music to my ears and I fell in love with her on the spot. She also said she would have me running sooner but she didn't want to cause harm to my nine inch chest incision and I agreed with her that that incision doesn't look or feel like anything to take lightly.

Two weeks ago I was feeling like crap and thinking that if I ever did run again it might not be until after the first of the year or even spring. Today, I'm thinking early November and I'm also targeting Thanksgiving Day's 8k run in Lincoln Park as my coming out run. We'll see how I feel and how much progress I make in October, but I'm hungry to get back on the trail. If I can't run the whole 5 miles maybe I can run/walk it or some combination.

It was good to show up at the Reuter's newsroom today for a few hours, get around to see my old friends and start preparing for my return to work on Monday, October 1. As much as work might stink sometimes, it's a better gig than this sitting around, napping, walking bit. Driving myself nuts and my mind keeps going to places it doesn't need to be, like blue funk pitsville and beyond.

I also had lunch on Monday with the co-owner and a head coach of Chicago Endurance Sports Jenny Hadfield and it was cleansing for me to clear the air with her on our feelings about my making a darned spectacle of myself by almost dying. She and everyone else in CES have been wonderful to me and I want to continue to earn the support and respect they've shown me. This whole ordeal has been a bit of a lonely journey but it has been made tolerable because of the concern and love shown to me by people like Jenny, head running Coach Brendan Cournane, Coach Mike, Jillian and all of the pace leaders and runners in my marathon training group.

I'm still in awe that I went down near a big city hospital and running with a soulmate who knew CPR and was willing to keep me alive long enough for the pros to get to me.

Life is pretty good and the fog is lifting!

They Say I'll Run Again

Everyone I come in contact with, doctors, nurses, heart specialists and trainers tell me that my heart attack on August 4 and following double by-pass surgery can be a blessing in disguise. Everyone is so optimistic that I'll not only be able to lead a full and happy life but if I choose, I will be able to run again and go the distance, marathon or beyond. They say my new arteries will allow me to feel "better than ever." Now, I'm not so sure what ever is, but it must be good.

I confess I've been down, blue, depressed or whatever you want to call this dark funk the past couple of months. This summer has been the hardest training segment of my 15 year running career. But the clouds are lifting, I'm beginning to see a ray of light on the horizon and I'm starting to find the mental motivation to dash toward that light. I'm sick of napping, walking, eating. Napping, walking, eating. I'm afraid I don't retire well.

My stress test on Monday went fine. As usual, the verdict was "no problem, get your ass moving to cardio rehab." Welp, my first session of rehab late this Friday afternoon was interesting. I started with a 5 minute warmup on the treadmill, 30 minutes of more intense walking and a 5 minute cool down. Basically, I'm starting from scratch at square one and it's a very humbling experience. The whole session was quite frankly amusing considering the running miles I had already logged prior to my heart attack.

The trainer monitoring my personal screen kept coming over to me and bumping up the speed to keep my heart thumping at what they say is my target heart rate in the mid-80s. I kept upping the speed, the heart rate would jump up to around 90 and quickly back down to the mid-80s, a very, very good sign, according to the lady in charge of my life for the one hour session this afternoon. I've never been a big numbers person when it comes to my running, so at the least I'll learn some new tricks about heart rate monitoring and whatever.

She told me too that there is no reason I won't be able to run. She also reminded me that I was lucky to be alive. "You had a cardiac arrest, open heart surgery and that's a lot worse than a heart attack," she said. My, we runners do have a flair for the extreme and dramatic don't we.

I have to look on the bright side. I'm a runner who dropped dead in a period of less than a minute on a pleasant Saturday morning surrounded by a group of the toughest, most beautiful and caring people in the world. My heart stopped immediately and stayed that way for 12 minutes. These fellow runners breathed oxygen into my mouth, pressed life-giving blood and oxygen from my chest on through this old 63 year old frame in a desperate attempt to keep me alive and they did a good job.

They cared enough to dive into the dirt with me, get down and dirty and in the process kept enough oxygen in my lifeless body so my brain wouldn't join my dead heart. It's because of them that I'm not only alive but I still have the brain power to read and write this little blog post. I showed up at the Reuters newsroom on Wednesday to check in, check my email and prepare to work part-time next week and full-time beginning October 1. My editor is obviously pleased I can still comprehend and write because my commodities markets remain explosive, volatile and hectic. I can't want to get back in the fray. Like running, writing just gets in your blood...there is no way to escape it and believe me I've tried.

I started this blog a little over a year ago on a whim and planned to track my training and running progress with the full intent to write about my completion of my seventh marathon here in Chicago on October 7th. But, I'll be on the sidelines cheerleading.

Boy, did my plans ever change!

Life Goes On

I notice more and more leaves on the ground on my daily walks to Lincoln Park to park my fanny on a bench and contemplate life, which is usually a big mistake.

The breeze coming through the trees and down the street feels and smells like fall and I'm having to pinch myself to realize it's already the middle of September.

My running group is doing the 20 miler Saturday in preparation for the Chicago Marathon on October 7 and I'm disappointed I can't join them. Maybe next year. Maybe not. We'll see how my ticker responds as I add hours and days from the trauma it went through on August 4.

I met with my cardiologist this past Monday and he set me up with the first stress test with him personally conducting it this coming Monday. He wanted to see for himself how my heart responds to a little more rapid walking pace before he sends me on to a likely 12 week cardio rehab program.

Naturally, I would rather go out for a brisk five mile run right now than sit on my butt and think about what has happened and what may happen but I will say it feels good to be able to walk, talk and watch the change of seasons one more year.

Enjoy your training and I hope to be back on the running trail soon.

Cardio Rehab Ahead?

Walked the four blocks down the street this afternoon and checked out a gym facility that is hooked up with a super-duper cardio rehab program with Northwestern Hospital. I didn't have a damned thing else going on so thought I would satisfy my curiosity.

I told the RN I had heart surgery about a month ago and it was suggested I do cardio rehab and I wondered of they were still in business. They were and she said to check with my insurance company to see if it is covered.

So, that's my next step. I see my cardiologist Monday afternoon and will talk or listen to find out where I go from here. The nurse said we start with a stress test to see where we are then we walk and trot on a freakin treadmill hooked up to electrodes three times a week for 12 weeks. Thrilling!

We also get a lot of advice on how to take care of our heart so I obviously can use that.

My training program really stinks but yes I think I'm happy to be alive and possibly can trot, jog or maybe even run some day.

I was thinking today, plenty of time to think, that I might set a long term goal of qualifying for Boston in two years, when I turn 65. Might be cool for an old 65 year heart patient to run another marathon or two and as you know Boston is the dream and fantasy for most of us.

I also was thinking today that I just might walk for awhile and maybe jog through a 5k or two some day.

What running has done to my mind is just weird!

As We Age

I've been going to write a blog on how discouraging and unmotivating it is to continue hearing the drumbeat of this society as to how the world is ending now that I'm older.

My writing would have just been another pointless venting at how we're programmed to fail so I found this nifty little quote online that pretty well sums up how I feel about getting older or aging or whatever in the hell you want to call our condition.

Enjoy!


"I train people in their 60s who can kick butt," says Robert Reames, a Studio City, Calif.-based Gold's Gym Fitness Institute expert. "If you're a 65-year-old in good shape, you can accomplish what an average 25-year-old can accomplish."

Okay goddammit!

Go kick butt and shut the hell up about getting older:)

Feeling Funky

Just feeling funky so thought I'd let you know. Thirty days away from a heart attack makes the heart grow fonder for friends, sunsets and monarchs that are willing to flit through the sky and do my exercising for me. Pigeons waddle around and poop a lot and unfortunately I still feel like a pigeon. Maybe someday I can again spend more time in the air with the butterfly and less time waddling around.

Hoping someday I'll return to the trails where my tough friends dwell so I can tell them about my setback if they want to listen, and they usually do want to hear from a fellow runner. I suppose it's just one of the responsibilities of running that brings runners together for sometimes brief and occasionally lengthy chats.

Do really good people naturally gravitate to the trails or do ordinary people attack the trails and become really good people?

Mental Speedwork

A recent post by Red has had me thinking about my personal revulsion at doing speedwork. Now that I'm on some sort of injured-reserve status and can't do any work at all, the mental aspects of running are hitting me full force and the concepts of speed and speedwork have been swirling in my head. And since I'm not working or running right now there's plenty of space in my head for some swirling, not always a good thing, but I'll try to harness the energy and stay out of trouble.

Words and how they're used are interesting to me and I've always seen the use of words as an art form. And since I've been making a living writing for a number of years the use of words and the impact they have on my mind and my readers minds continue to become more and more important as the days go by. I've become much more aware of the influence that words either written or spoken can have.

Thus the current obsession with the word speed or speedwork.

I get really excited when I read the word speed or hear that word, think "Chariots Of Fire?" But throw the word work into the mix and the whole concept goes down the toilet. Speedwork my ass, I think to myself, just give me the speed and forget the work. Yep, now you know that I'm basically lazy.

It isn't always possible to find a group to do speedwork with and I've been lucky to live in Chicago where the running groups are large and there are great turnouts for the weekly speedwork sessions. I've been running with Chicago Endurance Sports for the past two years and each Wednesday our marathon or half marathon groups would meet in Lincoln Park for a roughly 30 to 45 minute speed session that features a variety of interesting workouts and relays. The speedwork seemed less like work when done with a group and also done with smaller group segments so I could find a pace to tuck in with.

CES also offers a speedwork session on Tuesday nights for "hardcore" runners. I've managed to stay away from that damned thing!

I would like to pick up my speed though when I heal up from my setback and right now I'm frustrated as each day that goes by because the time wasted is eating into my mileage base and limiting my opportunity to not only run but run faster.

I know speedwork can help because of the experience I had during the summer of '98 on a 400 meter track here in the city. I completed my first marathon that spring and my mentor at the time invited me to the track that summer to do speedwork with a separate group. Some, like I, were preparing for the fall Chicago Marathon and what my mentor didn't tell me in advance is that maybe half of the track runners were Boston qualified or would soon be qualified. I told him I wasn't fast anymore and he said it didn't matter as long as I liked the track atmosphere. I was dumb enough to believe him.

Needless to say, I spent every Thursday evening on that track in last place but I did get faster just trying to keep up with the next-to-last place runner.

I never was a burner, even in High School, but I could hold my own back then and I was fast enough to earn a spot on our mile relay team when I was a senior. Our mile relay team was advancing to the state regional track meet and for whatever reason some of the faster juniors and sophmores saw me running laps on my own about a week before that regional track meet and asked to join me.

Frankly, I wasn't looking for company because I usually preferred to suffer alone but the sun was getting low in the sky, I was running fast and didn't argue at their attempt to be cordial. I was bored anyway so why not cut up a little.

I knew I was faster than any of them but there was one exception I was worried about, a lithe junior who was soon to become a "burner." I kept bumping up the pace, run hard a lap, jog a lap and so on. After a half dozen or so of these quick laps it because obvious to me that this young junior was just having too easy of a time keeping up with me soooo I pulled out the stops for a lap and damned he stayed on my shoulder. We all jogged the next lap and took off with me determined to lose him this time and I did gain maybe a stride on him by the end. So we all went again, jogged a lap then I announced that this was it, the final, all for one one for all we're going flat out fast and man we did.

It had become a game, it was fun, and we each were probably training faster than we ever had. I remember managing to stay ahead of that young whipper snapper junior on that last lap, but not by much and I also remember his laughter once we caught our breath a bit. He knew he had almost beat me, and that his spot was more than likely ensured on the following year's mile relay team. I felt pretty good that we had pushed each other like that and could laugh about it.

I'll also never forget the mile relay finals in the regional track meet the following week. I was running second and just before I took the baton from our "burner" leadoff senior the runner in the blocks next to me said something that really pissed me off. To this day I don't remember what he said but I do know that he took his baton before I and I remember knowing I had to kick his smart ass. I always ran better when I was pissed off.

I was clocked in my quarter at 54 seconds, yes I know not burning fast for a quarter miler, but the 54 second quarter was a full two seconds faster than my PR of 56.

So I know from experience that speedwork, speedtraining, speedplay or just speed can help. It worked when I was young so there is no reason it won't work now.

Now, I just have to heal up, extend my daily walks to some light jogging, get a little mileage base built up and then hook up with a few zanies who I can sort of keep up with and see if we can burn up the track. Maybe next summer?

Ah, isn't the mind a fun place to dwell? I move so much faster in my mind than on the track or trail.

Starting Over

It seems amusing to me that I would sit around on my butt three weeks removed from a heart attack and bypass surgery and beat up on myself because I'm not doing something to get in better shape. But that's what I've been doing.

The doctor's orders now are to basically do nothing and heal up. I sleep, eat, go for walks; sleep, eat, go for walks and on and on and on. It's an abrupt change from my life just over three weeks ago when I was busy each day writing about the insane grain futures markets and pursuing my hobby of running and working out.

The walls came tumbling down in a few short seconds and I'm now faced with starting over and I don't have a clue where I'm going. Some of my fellow runners have asked me when I'll be able to run again and I don't have an answer to that. Frankly at this moment I've lost my enthusiasm for running since I'm able to only see slight improvement on my daily walks.

I'm walking 4 segments a day with the total walking time around an hour. Maybe someday I'll be able to run a slow 5k again but for now I'm truly starting over, and I don't like it one bit.

But I'm alive and able to enjoy the pursuits of my fellow runners and bloggers. I hope to rejoin the parade someday.

Setbacks, Disappointments And Critics

I don't think it's possible to have much of a life without taking a few risks. And sometimes taking those risks result in setbacks and disappointments, which aren't pleasant experiences but they can with time reveal a better path to accomplish the original goal.

I suppose an easier life would be that of a critic. Critics, you know, are only little people who somehow have been allowed to criticize others either verbally or in writing. All of my good and real friends are performers, not critics. Sure we don't mind offering some constructive advice here and there but usually only if it's asked for. Once in awhile I've seen a friend or two headed for obvious disaster and I've simply told them so, but I usually do a pretty good job minding my own business.

Not all of my good friends are runners so I'm not so smug as to think that everyone needs to be a runner in order to be what I call a performer. Most of my friends and family members have recognized a simple truth in life and that is this. They take care of their responsibilities and their first responsibility is to themselves. By taking care of their needs they are healthier, happier and therefere much better friends, fathers, mothers, brothers or sisters.

I think this attitude can make running more enjoyable too. I've been guilty of the old "I'm slow and not a good runner" curse, an attitude of self-loathing that stems from the childhood years spent in competitive sports. You know, if you weren't first then you don't count. And, unfortunately I sometimes run into control-freak tiny-minded little people who are willing to nurse along that defeatest attitude in others. I suppose it makes them feel big and important if they criticize someone who was second and not first.

I'm in setback mode right now so my thoughts, actions and writings are certainly a lot different than I thought they would be at this point in my training life. I have to maintain faith in the ability of my body and mind to heal so I can again perform at my best on the running trails of life. I don't want to sit around and become a critic, it looks like a miserable way to live.

Thanks Jerry; Mystery Unfolding

A public, indeed global internet THANK YOU to a fellow runner named Jerry Olsen who called 911 early Saturday, August 4th to get the paramedics to me in time to save my life.

The mystery is unfolding as to the names of angels who swooped in on me when I went down that Saturday morning on the Chicago Lakefront running trail and despite my current bit befuddled state of mind, I love a good mystery.

A public think you too to Sue Burkwald for passing along the info of Jerry's quick thinking and good deed.

"Bambi" asked me a long time ago if I believed in angels.

Yep, I sure do. That lifeguard and nurse were busy helping me that morning too and deserve at least a big heartfelt shout out!

I want to do more but am at a bit of a loss for words right now.

Drama King

Early Saturday morning August 4, I met my training group for a little 6 mile run as we wound down to the annual Chicago Distance Classic half marathon that was held early Sunday on August 12.

I was feeling good after completing a 30 mile week that included a hard 12 mile long run the previous Saturday in heavy humidity and a bit of heat.

I was looking forward to cruising through the easy six miler because everything was working fine and I was looking forward to a good half marathon because I knew my training had been going very well. I wasn't in shape to PR the half but I knew I was in good enough condition to shave a minute per mile off of last year's pace should I have chosen to open it up a little.

But, I didn't make it to the starting line of the half marathon.

I give you my word I'm not making up what I'm about to write. To the best of my recollection and from what people have told me the following is what happened.

With about a mile left of our six mile run I started to feel sick to my stomach. I remember thinking to myself that this isn't quite right, something just isn't right because I never get sick unless I'm really pushing a run or doing some intentionally hard speed work. Nevertheless I was getting sick and it wouldn't pass.

I told my 10 year running buddy Tanya "Bambi" and our mutual friend Jill that I had to veer off the side of the path and upchuck, throw up or puke...whatever you want to call that gross encounter that sometimes grips runners and other athlethes when they've been pushing it to the edge.

They said they would wait for me and I'm alive to write this little story because those two beautiful girls waited for me.

They later told me that I veered off the path to do my thing, bent over and I went down like a ton of bricks. The last thing I remember is leaning over to puke. The next thing I remember is seeing Tanya, Jill and Jenny Hadfield the co-owner and coach of my running group Chicago Endurance Sports in my room at Saint Joseph Hospital here in Chicago. I'm told that Mike, one of the running coaches was in the room too. It was a blur and I didn't have a clue as to what in the hell was going on.

I vaguely remember asking what happened and they told me I had a heart attack, was in the hospital and would have to have surgery right away. The next few days were a blur and I remember very little other than my kids, sister, some co-workers and fellow runners popping in to visit off and on.

I'm told that as soon as I went down on that running trail Tanya and Jill ran to me, Tanya started giving me CPR, for whatever reason she had read up on it the night before, another runner who happened to be a nurse was trying to find a pulse and a lifeguard who was driving by stopped to assist in reviving me. The lifeguard and Tanya were going through several series of CPR and despite no pulse they kept me alive long enough for the paramedics to arrive and do their thing. I'm told it took the ambulance 12 minutes to get to me.

My son Jake, who along with his girlfriend Jess had arrived at ER said my heart stopped again in the hospital and there was a lot of commotion as the medical staff shocked me back to life. Needless to say this wasn't a pretty sight for anyone and I missed the whole darned thing.

Early Monday morning August 6 a couple of supremely confident, re-assuring and brilliant surgeons named Dr Breyer and Dr Bradshaw cut through my chest to get to my heart. One artery was completely blocked and the other was something like 90-95 percent blocked. I had a double bypass and the doctors said my heart wasn't damaged by the trauma, I would be able to come back stronger than ever and be able to run better than ever. At this point, I'm happy to be walking around.

I was told only 1 percent of the people who have this type of heart attack survive, I was lucky to be a runner and that my fellow runners saved my life. Needless to say I'm still struggling to find the words to express what my life has undergone the past two weeks and at this point where it may be going.

I mean, what do you tell someone who has saved your life? Thank you? That seems lame but for now it's all I know to do.

So thank you "Bambi"for saving my life, thank you Jill, thank you whoever the runner nurse was and thank you caring lifeguard. I'm just now feeling up to searching for the unknown saviors so I can at least send them a card and there surely must be some special award or citation of some kind for saving a life.

I've been saturated with calls, messages and cards wishing me a speedy recovery and basically my whole life as I thought it existed has evaporated. The summer was going well for me. The running and workouts were up a notch in intensity from last summer and the Tuesday morning before my heart attack I had the biggest coup or scoop of my journalism career.

What's it all about? Damned if I know. Right now I'm just trying to hold on, expanding my walks a little, short-term disability from work, preparing to set appointments for rehab and hoping I can extend this second chance at a life into something good for myself and others.

I do know there are many brave, courageous, insightful and bright people in this world and for whatever reason a group of them descended on me a couple of weeks ago and gave me a chance to keep on living.

I also know that on my walks through Lincoln Park whenever I see a fellow runner I want to shout at the top of my lungs.

"Pretty big setback, but I'll see you out here in a few months"

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!