Running Demons and Birds

Hooray! A week where I got in all 4 runs! I'm prety proud of myself for getting in my 4 runs and 20 miles, and not thinking about the fact that my total 4 runs probably equals Deena Kastor's morning run on an easy day....little steps, people, little steps! (And not that I could ever be Deena, either.) Does my excessive use of italics bother you? I'm sorry. Really, I am.

But let's get back to my long run. Remember last week when I bailed on my 10-mile run with the group? So I really meant it when I said I'd make it up next week. Bright and early Saturday morning, I woke up just before 5am. For some reason I lolly-gagged around getting ready and it was like 5:40 before I even left the house.

I decided to NOT go to 63rd Street Beach in order to ward off the running boredom blues, and neither did I want to travel up to the north side. That just takes more time and there's never a guarantee for decent or free parking. So I decided to try starting from somewhere I've never started. Oakwood, which is 3900 South. (You know I love my 31st Street Beach, but I knew 5 miles north would take me well into the concrete monster at Ohio Street Beach, and mentally I was just not gonna be able to handle that--surely in my fragile state of just being able to get out the door, that morning sun would chew me up, spit me out and leave me for dead.) So I parked in the brand new parking lot, right next to some young 20-somethings who were ending their night of partying and went on my merry way!

So for a few miles I was feeling good. Honestly, I was feeling good most of the time. But mentally, maybe 3 miles in, I kept having to push back those little running demons "You know, you're doing 11 miles next week, you don't have to run 10 miles today." "Girl, you should just run 8 miles and call it a day!" "Oh GAWSH, do you really want to run under that bridge at Wacker Drive? YUCK." I fought these voices in my head from about mile 3 until I turned around. And I opted to turn around just before that bridge when you're like a sandwich, you're running under Lake Shore Drive, but next to Wacker Drive with probably billions of car fume particles in the air, and the river below you. Yeah...skipped it. Turned around about 2/10 of a mile early. Yeah, cuz running past my car at the end of a 10-mile run isn't challenging. :-/

So anyway, I stopped at the Fleet Feet aid station and guzzled, then headed back south. As I'm heading back around the Shedd Aquarium, happy to take the route again that had been closed for at least a year due to construction...wait. Ok, so the new part of the underpass that helps you avoid the maddening museum traffic is super nice. But the weird thing is, the part of the path that went unused for about a year is now looking pretty raggedy! Anyway, so I'm running along minding my own business, and as I'm about to pass a water fountain, SWOOSH! A STUPID BIRD BRUSHED MY HEAD AS IT CAME IN FOR A WATER-FOUNTAIN LANDING. So I looked at the bird like "WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING???????" I mean, for real? You have the who-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ole sky, and for some reason, that just isn't enough for you?! I was so mad! You may not know this, but birds DISGUST me. They are filthy little lice-infested vermin. When I was in the second grade I wrote a poem about a bird pooping on me, after having been inspired by watching an old friend (Kendera Ream, are you out there?) get pooped on. So yeah, I looked at the bird with all this bouncing around in my mind, and I swear if that bird could talk, he would have given me one of those "SORRY!" that really wasn't an apology at all, but a forced and sarcastic response. He looked like he was saying "What do you want me to do? SORRY!" So I looked back at him and said with my eyes "Look, I don't want any trouble here. You do my part, and I'll do mine." All of this imagined conversation took place in like 1 second. So what to do, but keep running? But instantly my scalp started itching like crazy, or at least it seemed to be. So at the next fountaion, I poured water all over my head a few times. My scalp is starting to itch again as I write this. Stupid bird.

So heading back south I pass McCormick Place, then the Chicago Firefighters Memorial, when up ahead I saw two runners I know from college. (GO ILLINI!) We waved, but I was instantly dismayed. I knew that from where they usually start running, they would be turning around in a bit, most likely, and they run pretty fast, like a 7:30 pace, to my recollection. I had about 1.5 miles left to go. UGH. The thought of them closing in on my gigantic behind in this next stretch of path for which you can see up ahead for 1/2 mile stretches at a time was disheartening. I imagined it would just look bigger and bigger and bigger and finally when they would pass me, they would think or maybe even say to each other, "wow, it really was that big!" I am not kidding, the thought of this kept me moving along at a decent pace for the remainder of the run.

So at 9.85 miles or so, I passed my car. It was hard to do that, but at the same time, there was no way I was coming this close to running 10 miles and not doing it. I ran the remainder of my run out, then had a nice cooldown walk back to my car. I stretched very nicely and as I was doing so, they ran by. Whew!

Next Saturday? 11 miles!

Let's see if I can remember that poem:

Birdie, birdie in the sky,
Why'd you do that in my eye?
What's that thing coming down,
in a blob, in a white form?
I scream and I frown.
And, I mourn.
When it hits, I dance around.
Birdie, birdie in the sky,
why'd you do that in my eye?

Hey I was 7, I didn't say the poem was any good.