You've got mail.

The t-shirt I won for donating blood arrived (see my next to last post). It's a beauty, too.

Standard white all cotton, size large so it's slightly too large, with the airline logo on the front in whose terminal I donated, and their motto printed across the back, "Safe. Clean. On Time. [Airline name.]" Hmm, this catchy saying isn't trademarked.

Well worth the wait and the worry.

But here's what I truly think. I'm glad this airline, or it's employees, are so well-intentioned and community-minded that they organized a blood drive. Kudos to them.

In other news, I recently received something in the mail from the Chicago Marathon. It was a certificate grandly certifying that on October 6, 2007, I "officially completed The 2007 LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon." [Notice the capital T.] In 4:34:06 at a pace of 10:28 M/M. Ouch. It would have been even worse if my former running buddy A hadn't found me walking the course at MP 24 and brought me in at a trot. (Left: The dog days of summer, or fall, in downtown Chicago.)

They're trying to make nice now, after blaming the runners for a debacle of their own making? What a fraud. That was The Chicago Fun Run. They said so at the time, when they sent uniformed police officers wading onto the course to force runners to walk upon the threat of felony arrest. Now it's back to having been a marathon again? (Right: A kept me barely ahead of the No-More-Running Police in Chicago.)

Afraid.

Jade Lady and Shirley Perly recently posted interesting entries about how fear motivates or hinders runners. That got me to thinking about what I am afraid of and how I overcome my fears.

I am afraid of getting injured, because that would interfere with my running. So although I do take some calculated risks in running, I'm careful and try to be prudent about them. I may run some signal lights but I don't weave through moving traffic. I will run in snow and icy conditions, but if the footing is slippery I'll stop. Outside of running, I won't play basketball or football or leg out infield hits anymore. That fast start/stop is a young man's game and ruinous at my age. Can you spell Achilles rupture? Do you know how long six months is? Several of my friends can, and do.

In terms of running, and perhaps life, I'm not particularly afraid of things so much as I'm afraid of failure. That's why when I started running at age 48, it transformed me.

I started running to lose weight, but then running gripped me. Continuing to run got me over my subsequent fear of not keeping the ensuing weight loss off.

Then I started running in races, and running with people. Although my racing is in the also-ran category, running races gives me a set of numbers (times) that are immutable gauges of what I can do. I started fearing that I would embarrass myself, or not fulfil my friends' expectations, or that I wouldn't meet my goals. I became afraid of giving in to fatigue or letting doubt hold me back.

But I continued to run races so I could confront and overcome these fears, and not succumb to them. Having put in the work of some training, I went out and tried to achieve results.

Usually it works out in some way, although usually not as I hope or expect. For instance, my half-marathon PR is 1:44:18 at the Inaugural Disneyland Half-Marathon. Because I was in the peak condition of my life then, I was hoping to approach 1:40 in the race, but the crush of runners within the narrow theme park the first three miles prevented this. But if I had paralyzed myself by saying I couldn't do a 1:40 and so why try, I wouldn't have a 1:44.

Sometimes it doesn't work out at at all and I have to reassess. My 4:34 debacle at Chicago last fall taught me things, not the least of which was not to try to run 26 miles when you're on antibiotics. But I overcame my fear of embarrassing myself and not fulfilling my friends' expectations by lining up at the start line.

Occasionally the stars line up. My 1:14:34 at Army in 2006, the culmination of my most fit period, is perhaps the best race I have ever run. But to do it, I had to put aside the fear that I would be slower than the 1:18 I had run at the Cherry Blossom Ten-Miler earlier that year.

I do about 40 races a year and practically every week I put my fears to the side, again. Because if I don't, I have become afraid. I have let fear change my life.

When Pigs Fly.

I went to Cincinnati last weekend as my club's representative at the RRCA's 50th Anniversity Convention which was held there. I voted our club line, enrolled in a couple of very interesting classes on Lactate Tolerance and Sports Psychology, and attended lectures on Club Training Programs and Trail Running. (What I took away from the trail running lecture is to say no thanks. They were talking about how to get down a very steep loose scree slope that is very slippery (like ball bearings), apparently by jumping, land and turn as you slide, jump, land and turn as you slide, etc.)

This gave me a chance to run the Flying Pig Marathon. This is a very well put on marathon. The experience was a blast. The course, however, is, uh, challenging.

Before I went, I looked at its topographical map. It looks like a giant anaconda which has just swallowed a bus. Steady as she goes til MP 6, then a hellacious climb to MP 8, then down the other side and out. Sort of like National, with its climb and descent in the early mid-part of the marathon, before fatigue turns inclines into hills and hills become mountains. Very doable, on paper.

Still, one of Cincinnati's several nicknames is The City of Seven Hills. I no longer wonder why.

My training was abbreviated because I didn't know I was running this May marathon until sometime in April, when I was offered the opportunity to go to Cincinnati. I went out and was able to finish a 20-miler so I figured I could do the Pig. The next week I ran a 15-miler, the week after that a 16-miler and the week before the marathon I did a 10-miler. Then I lined up at 6:30 am on Sunday with the 3:40 pace group, "ready" to go. I had ankle and hamstring issues, but they wouldn't delay the start til I got 100%. Go figure.

They did delay the start, however, for a fire on the course. This caused a course alteration which lengthened the course. But unlike at Army in 2005, this did NOT turn the marathon into a Cincinnati Fun Run. They adjusted appropriately on the fly. (Are you listening, Chicago?)

By the time the starting cannon was fired, however, I was really ready to go, if you know what I mean. A quarter mile down the course I was relieved to find a handy bush along the Ohio. I never saw the 3:40 group again. Left to my own resources, I soon settled into a steady pace.

A jog by the Great American Ballpark (Reds) took us onto the Taylor Bridge into Kentucky. Two miles later we were back in Ohio running through downtown Cincinnati. We ran by the sports bar where I ate dinner and hydrated the two prior nights. Tragically, this was where I watched live on TV while Kentucky Derby runnerup Eight Belles was put to death the night before. Horse racing has a real problem.

Soon we surmounted what I thought was the climb of the race. It wasn't too bad and now I was literally at the top of the world. Up there I could see the Ohio far below, glinting in the morning sun. Downtown Cincinnati and its bridges were visible behind me, and stretching out in front was the great bend of the river.

But soon I discovered that the hills were far from done. Still ahead were lots more rolling hills, inclines, and, worst of all, short, sharp hills. Little ten and twenty-yard rollers that lifted up and down like a crazy roller coaster track. Major combat wasn't over. Well, bring 'em on.

The halfway mark came and went. We toured the Cincinnati suburbs to the NE. Suburbs are suburbs but the crowd support was great. We ran down some bike paths, which I always find interesting in marathons (where does this one go? Does it go all the way to downtown?).

We were actually detouring around the early-morning conflagration and the course was being stretched out thereby but hey, we all ran the same distance. Nobody made it "unofficial" thereby. (Cincinnati did a great job. This is a great marathon.)

We ran over a controlled-access four-lane divided highway where we got the shoulder and one lane, while the cars got the other lane. A line of orange plastic cones protected us dead-tired runners from them. Do you think the cars slowed down? (This is the midwest. Actually, many did.)

And then we were on the home stretch! A large sign announced the last mile. I tried to pick it up but the last mile was long, I tell ya. I finished in under four hours on all registers, the gun time, the chip time and the adjusted time due to the course lengthening. I loved this marathon. What more can I say?

Off it came

It fell off.

The first of my five toenails blackened by October's infamous Chicago Fun Run, that 100 degree (dew point rating), 4:34:06, 26.2-mile cancelled-race nightmare, came off. It was a stark reminder of how little I enjoyed that accursed run. (Left: At the Expo. The anticipation!)

Chicago occupies dead-last on my "favorites" list of the 15 marathons I've run. It is listed below the one in Dublin, Ohio in January 2004 (4:28:13) that started at zero degrees and warmed all the way up to eight degrees by the time I finished. It is listed below the one in Frederick, MD in March 2003 (4:19:42) run during a 6-inch snowfall. It is listed below the one in Sparks, MD in November 2003 (4:44:13) that I caught pneumonia from.

(Right: Triage in the battle zone. A MASH tent at MP 16.) Last fall I had a draft post going that recounted it, running north and being so affected by my antibiotic treatment for a terrible sloppy cold that I stopped after 8 miles and considered DNFing (I was running for a charity so how could I DNF?), looking for Comiskey Park while running south and never seeing it (I think we ran right by it but I dunno), hearing a wild rumor in the fourth hour that the race was cancelled (and thinking, Yeah, Right), being rescued by A in the last two miles (who ran me in to the finish line just ahead of the No Running Police), but the memory was such a downer that I forgot about it. But Chicago wasn't all bad. Enjoy these glimpses of the good times.

( Left: A enjoys the view from the Sears Tower.)

(Right: Finally meeting Audrey of One More Mile Running Apparel at the Expo. I had dealt with her on a large order I placed with OMM for Program t-shirts for the 10-Mile Training Group I directed for my club. Those runners were to suffer equally brutal conditions at Army on the same day as Chicago.)

(Left: There was a RBF meet-up after the fun run. With Running Jayhawk, who organized it.)

(Right: Boy was it good to get home from this marathon.)

H runs the 2007 MCM

MCM. Unlike three weeks ago when it was 90 degree and humid at Chicago, the weather today was almost perfect for the running of another of the nation's premier marathons, the People's Marathon, the 32d Marine Corps Marathon. It's either the third or fourth largest marathon in the country. They know what they're doing.

This marathon, a scenic trip through the nation's capital, has never been cancelled. The Marines provided plenty of water for everyone. The police didn't deploy on the course and order runners to walk under threat of arrest. (Below: Does the marathon in your town have a view like this one that greeted today's runners?)

It was in the fifties and breezy for the 20,667 finishers. I waited on the 14th Street Bridge at MP 20 for a friend of mine, H, who was running her first marathon. I had offered to accompany her the last six miles. She wanted to run around a 4:00 (9:09 pace) marathon so I had been practicing running nine minute miles all week.

It's a lot harder to spot people as masses of faces pour past you than you might think. Last year I completely missed Bex when she ran by me at the same spot with A, who is 6-3, running next to her. How could you miss those two women running by you? Bex ran a 3:56:53 MCM last year, having been greatly helped by the accompaniment of A around the wind-blown and desolate Haines Point.

This year they added some hills. It seems they're always tinkering with the course but the core course, a beauteous run down the mall and by the Capitol, remains the same. I ran it in 2002, not very well (5:04:38), and it seemed a lot more crowded this year than what I remembered. There were 14,086 finishers back then. (Above: Old Glory on the 14th Street Bridge.)

H came by, a little off her desired pace. She was running steadily though, looking relaxed and strong. We burned a 9:12 running to MP 21. Off the bridge now, we went though the crowded streets of Crystal City, running a 9:25 mile, then a 9:30 mile. (Right: Running by the Lincoln Memorial in the 2002 MCM, my fourth marathon.)

H had worked hard all summer and fall, running according to schedule every week and keeping on her desired pace in her training runs, including a couple of 8:58 minutes-per-mile twenty milers, but she was hitting the wall now in the twenty fourth mile. She powered through it though, with a 9:59 mile followed by a 10:15 mile. Nice and steady. I ran a little bit of the last mile with her, then stepped off the course before I got penned in by the crowded finish zone. H finished with a really nice time of 4:07 and change. Nice job! (Below: H is on the left. She looks pretty good for MP 20, don't you think?)

If you haven't done the MCM, it's a must-do. There's a great spirit to this race, a great sense of community and excitement. You can have Chicago, although the spectators were terrific.

The DCRRC Ten-Mile Program

I am proud of them all.

I directed my running club’s twelve-week Ten-Mile Group (TMG) Training Program this year. The goal race was the Army 10-Mile Race, which is or was North America’s largest ten-mile road race. This year the number of registrants was capped at 26,000.

You could read all about the TMG training on the program’s blog. It’s pretty dry reading because I did all of the posting except for once when Not Born to Run posted (Jeanne was a coach in the program).

The program was started a few years back by Kristin, an accomplished woman who was recognized for her efforts by the club as its volunteer of the year two years ago. An honor well deserved.

(Kristin, waving, leads a group of runners from the 10K Group in the spring of 2007 along the C&O Canal Towpath near Fletcher's Boathouse.) My participation in the program in the summer of 2005, which was my first foray into group running, turned my running around and thoroughly revived it after it had gone stale. As a result, my marathon time went from 4:16 to 3:53 and my 5K time, which had gotten into the 25s, went back down into the 22s for awhile.

Anywho, while I was off crawling over the mean streets of Chicago in record heat on the Infamous Sunday of October 7, 2007, my charges were running the streets of the District during the Army 10-Miler in equally hot temperatures. It was deja vu all over again. They ran out of water. Runners were seen filling their bottles from the water basin by the Capitol while pigeons splashed a few feet away. Other runners begged water from spectators or bought it from stores along the route. (Always always carry a twenty during ANY race.) There was one fatality. Except that at Army, they seem to be acknowledging some mistakes and vowing to fix them, unlike at Chicago.

This year’s TMG Program started on July 14th in front of the Lincoln Memorial with a run of three miles. The next week’s run of three miles went around the Tidal Basin by the Jefferson Memorial, and unbeknownst to anyone, a photographer memorialized it for the periodical Cooking Light, which published it in a full-page spread in its October issue (on newsstands now). Next time you're in Borders, check it out on page 75. (Yes, that’s me, the one with the hat.)

(Have you seen this magazine?) As an aside, you might wonder how I, a man, ever knew that anything was in Cooking Light. I might have lived the rest of my life in ignorance of my fame if not for the keen eyes of two program members. You see, of the 59 paid TMG participants, 51 are women. Thanks Jennifer and Hallie! BTW, if you need an extra copy of this issue, I have a few to spare.

I digress. Subsequent program meeting points included Fletcher’s Boathouse, Ronald Reagan Airport and Haines Point. We ran over bridges, by the White House, past war memorials and around the Capitol. We eventually built up to eleven miles. The coaches, Jeannie, Kristin, Linda, Matt and NBTR, all did a terrific job.

I think Matt must have been an Army Ranger because in the best tradition of Leave No Runner Behind, he would come in with (most of) the fast group and then regularly slip away to find the rest of his group. Kristin often ran to the meeting point and home again to build up her mileage base for Chicago. You know, the race that was cancelled while she and practically everyone else were out on the course! Linda smoked the Army course with the best woman's time in the program (second best overall). NBTR showed us all what she thought of our slow mileage buildup by running a half-marathon midway through the program. Jeannie amazed us all by actually having her group stretch before and after every single run. I tried to lead her group once when she was away and I was told by its members that they were going to run her route and not my route. I like loyalty.

Twenty-nine athletes from the program completed Army despite the harsh conditions and the lack of water. Their times were terrific, ranging from 1:17:06 (Scott) to over two hours. It was a tremendous achievement just to finish. Kudos to them, and to Army, which unlike Chicago, admitted mistakes, actually apologized and vowed to get better.

A 26.2 mile fun run.

My 2007 Chicago Marathon. The Down & Dirty: 4:34:06.

No place, because it was a Fun Run by the time I finished.

At least I finished. Many runners were swept off the course when race officials cancelled the race during its fourth hour due to record heat. It was 88 degrees and humid (and sunny) two and a half hours into the race. One runner tragically died and over three hundred were sent to the hospital during the race.

My running buddy A, who wasn't running due to injury, picked me up two miles out and ran me in. Otherwise my time would have been a lot worse. It was bad. I was glad to finish. Chicago is flat but the last hill right at MP 26 is an ass-kicker. Heck, Chicago kicked my ass. But I finished and I'm safe.

There's lots more that I can tell you later about my trip to Chicago.

Thanks to all of you who were concerned and checked afterwards on my status.

Chicago

I was feelin' so bad, I asked my family doctor just what I had,
I said, Doctor, (Doctor) Mr. M.D., (Doctor)
Now can you tell me, tell me, tell me, what's ailin' me?" (Doctor)

He said, Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Yes, indeed, all you really need...

...is 250MG Zithromax for five days.

I feel better already.

This website details what you should avoid while taking Zithromax, including exposure to sunlight. I sure hope Sunday, when I run the Chicago Marathon, is a cloudy day.

The forecast for Sunday in Chicago is continued unseasonably warm and humid. Highs may reach or exceed the record of 86 (1947). Incoming clouds late. High of 86, low of 67.

Uh-oh. I don't do so well in hot.

But my friend Dori dispensed some wisdom in her last post. A positive outlook results in a positive outcome. Well stated!

I've had plenty of support as I've gotten ready to run Chicago for a worthy cause. Through the largess of supporters (thanks Not Born To Run!) of my effort, I have met my goal of raising money to hopefully make a difference in the lives of some persons in East Africa who are less fortunate then me.

I will be running this race in appreciation of the contributions of Ashley, Beth, David, Hallie, Jack, Jeanne, Rhea, Rich and Susie to this worthy cause. My friend Ashley is injured and I am running the race in appreciation of all the generous people who contributed to her fund-raising effort as well.

See you at the finish line in Chicago!

Chicago is in...

...four days. Yikes!

Currently I am sick. I have a terrible head cold. I ran five miles today and it exhausted me. I couldn't breathe. All the discharge from my sinuses ran down my throat. I bubbled as I ran along.

I have a doctor's visit scheduled for tomorrow.

Last week I was in Colorado on an exhausting series of depositions in a contentious case. Opposing counsel is, well, I'll be charitable and say nothing. Opposing counsel mentioned the nuclear sanction (a bogus threat) of Rule 11. That's how the case is being defended.

Flying back from Denver on Friday, when the plane set down at Dulles at midnight, I thought one of my ear drums was going to burst. My head was so stuffy I couldn't make my ear pop no matter what I did.

I'm getting ready to fly back to Denver next week for more depositions. Oh, that's after I fly to Chicago on the day after tomorrow to run a marathon.

In the last ten days, I have run eleven miles.

This is how I currently feel about running in the upcoming marathon in the city on the lake.

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need of
some stranger's hand
In a desperate land

Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain
There's danger on the edge of town
Ride the king's highway
Weird scenes inside the goldmine
Ride the highway West baby

Ride the snake
Ride the snake
To the lake
To the lake

The ancient lake baby
The snake is long
Seven miles
Ride the snake

He's old
And his skin is cold
The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here and we'll do the rest

The blue bus is calling us
The blue bus is calling us
Driver, where you taking us?

I think I'm freaking out. Do you suppose Jim Morrison knew what it was like to run a marathon?

Karma

I was running my second 10-miler in two days this morning, thinking how I was finally back to training for Chicago again after injuring my left foot a month ago by stepping in a hole. My mind was going over all the mind-numbing details I could supply you with: Thursday's 2.2 mile run over my hill at a 10:11 pace; Friday's eclectic 10K run starting with a two-mile run to the West Falls Church Metro Station at a 7:50 pace, followed by a run over my hill at an 8:55 pace, finished off by blah blah blah...

Someone running on the W&OD Trail went by me who looked familiar in the early morning light. It was a beautiful woman pushing a child in a running stroller. Two dozen ringlets of golden hair swayed about her entrancing face, perfectly setting off her ebony skin.

I backtracked and caught up with her. She looked at me guardedly. I asked her if she ran this trail often. Her answer, spoken in the lilting accent of the Islands, was noncommittal.

"Do you remember about a month ago," I asked, "running by me when I was walking on the trail with an injured foot? And you stopped to ask if I was all right?" Her face lit up. "Yes!" she said. "And you are all right?" She remembered.

This was the one person who passed me on the trail that day as I was limping home after hurting myself who stopped to ask if I needed help. Everyone else on the trail gave a wide berth to the wild man hobbling along muttering bitter imprecations about his cursed luck.

Her sweet actions then made me feel so much better.

God was she pretty. The youngster in the stroller, an Asian-American child, looked at us curiously.

"I'm fine now, and back to running," I told her. She seemed delighted. I thanked her for expressing her concern then. I really meant it.

I was so grateful that I was able to express my feelings of appreciation to her. I felt like the circle had completely closed on my time away from training due to the injury.

Her smile was utterly radiant. I smiled in return and turned to continue my run. I was seven miles in and still had three miles of hills to go. My step was lively as I ran away and I felt absolutely great.

An Ugly Sixteen

LSD. I finally got my 16-miler in today as I prepare for Chicago seven weeks from now. You'll remember I had a little trouble with the heat last month when I attempted a sixteen miler and my running buddy A shut down our run, correctly, after 14 miles. Then I hurt my foot. My injury put me down for a full week and set me back three weeks.

But last week I did a more robust 28 miles for the week, including a track workout, a race and yesterday's eight-miler, when I had energy left over at the end of the run. Today I wanted to do 14 or 16, but I hung around the house putting it off all morning. Finally at 11 am I headed out. Fortunately it was overcast and still relatively cool.

The W&OD, a forty-mile long running trail, cuts right across my back yard line at MP 7. Pretty handy. Mile markers every half mile.

I ran seven miles down to Shirlington and seven back. That took 2:13 (9:30). Going down to the zero mile marker I was running nice 8:45s or 8:50s. But then I got tired. Coming back it was more like 9:20s to 9:50s, and well over 10:00s for the last couple of miles.

I moseyed along a little on the way back. I stopped at the comfort station at the Ranger Shelter. I went by a couple about my age, walking along wearing tie-dye t-shirts. I stopped to chat.

"Tie dye is back in?" I asked.

"Oh, you bet." (Why am I always the last one to find out?)

"I've got to get home and find all those t-shirts I still have from the seventies," I said as I hurried off.

I contemplated extending my run to a 22-miler. But I was getting really tired and I was really slowing down. I made it to my driveway, the fourteenth mile, where I'd laid out food and Gatorade in my car. I was panting and feeling a little woozy. The sun was coming out and it was getting humid.

As I sucked down Gatorade, I considered the fact I'd given blood two days earlier and attributed my weariness to that. Plus I was convalescing my foot. My grand notion of doing 22 miles shrank to 17. I'd do a single repetition of my hill workout, which is a two-mile out and back from my house, and follow it up with my neighborhood mile. How hard could it be?

Very hard indeed. On my hill, I walked twice taking deep draughts of water from the fresh bottle I was carrying. Those miles were on the order of 13-minutes each. Going down the steep part of my hill was painfully slow. My motion was akin to stumble-bum.

I abandoned my new plan to finish up with my neighborhood mile. I gratefully shuffled into my driveway after sixteen and a quarter miles at 2:40:35 (9:53) and pulled the plug. The second half of the run was ugly and getting uglier. Boy, long runs can go down the tubes in a hurry.

But my sixteen is done. My foot feels fine right now, although tomorrow will tell. Now I just gotta do a twenty-miler as I get ready for Chicago, maybe in a couple of weeks.

Odds & Sods: I have a friend at work who is scheduled to take a long-planned vacation to Cancun, Mexico, with long-purchased airline tickets on a flight on Wednesday. All of the tickets are non-refundable. Cancun would be the place where Hurricane Dean, projected to be a Category Five hurricane packing 160 MPH winds, is due to make landfall on Tuesday. For my co-worker, it must be like watching a slow-motion train wreck as the storm moves across the Caribbean.

Thanks! I want to thank my brother for his generous support of my intention to run Chicago as a fund-raiser for a charity, A Running Start Foundation. My brother is a sometimes-runner and a Yankee fan like me.

A Running Start Foundation

Please help: It's up and official! Both A and myself have our charity-running websites up as we each raise money for A Running Start when we run Chicago on October 7th.

A Running Start has a mission of addressing the impoverishment of the East African part of our world through sports, by enabling youngsters in that running-rich region to attend U.S. schools on running scholarships (as Rich once joked to me, we need to encourage the Kenyans to keep beating us so badly in marathons, right?), encouraging students to stay in school and using sports to promote development and education. (Left: A on the bridge.)

A explains it better than I do. She's also far ahead of me, already, in her training for the marathon and she's going to kick my butt in it. She's leading the whole Chicago-group in fundraising. Go to her site and help her out.

Or go to my site and help me out. It's a good cause, and God willing, I know we're both gonna do our best on October 7th. (Right: 2006 NYCM, 15 minutes away from Tavern on the Green.)

Running update: I ran 50.5 miles in May. On Tuesday morning I ran a mile around my house to limber up in 7:31. Leading a running group of four at work yesterday at noon, I ran about 4.3 miles on the Mall in about 43 minutes.

I'm Going to Chicago!

The Chicago Marathon is one of five World Marathon Majors. It’s going to be run on Sunday, October 7, 2007. It’s already full.

How does this happen? The race increased its number of entries from 40,000 last year to 45,000 this year. And it filled up last week, almost six months in advance of the race.

After doing the National Marathon four weeks ago, I took a little time off to reflect on whether I wanted to do another marathon in the fall. I recovered quickly from National, however, to the point where only two days ago I ran a 1:16:05 at the GW Parkway 10-Miler, which is just ninety-one seconds off the PR I set at Army last fall when I was in peak form.

My friends have been talking up Chicago to me. It’s flat and fast, they say. I liked the sound of both those things, because the hills really bothered me the last ten miles at National, and I’m only five minutes off a BQ. (At dinner at a steak house a little while after National, celebrating Jeanne's recovery from surgery, Bex's long Half, my marathon and A's Cherry Blossom. I can't remember if we were talking about Chicago, we were probably talking about food!)

By last week, I had decided to sign up for Chicago. I ran New York last November, another Major, and I loved it! (It helped that I am from New York City.) But New York is not a BQ-friendly course.

I fell hard for Chicago. Doing another Major would be cool, I thought. I would be in the same advanced "C" starting corral with some of my friends, most of whom I can keep up with, at least for awhile. We would be ahead of the mass pack of runners. That’s one of the things that sapped my energy at New York, the congested condition of the course for the entire 26 miles. All that sideways running wore me out.

I tidied up some outstanding matters. Two weekends ago I found all my tax documents and filed for an extension. I got my birthday celebration out of the way. (Thanks for the calls, notes and presents, kids. Not!) Last Wednesday I ran my monthly noontime 3K race at the Tidal Basin. My "pressing" tasks completed, I was ready to make my commitment to Chicago.

A half hour after I returned from the Tidal Basin run, A came into my office to tell me Chicago was closed. It had filled up that very day.

I was stunned. I felt like I did the day during my divorce when I came home and found court papers tacked to my door announcing that my minor children were supposedly suing me, supposedly over a "fiduciary" matter. (The case was ultimately thrown out and their Mother was sanctioned, and then assessed all of my appellate costs, almost $50,000 in all. Sadly, years later my now-majority age children still don't see me or speak to me.)

Jilted, I cast about for a substitute. I got excited about Steamtown for awhile and it’s net downhill of almost a thousand feet. I ogled at its elevation (or declination) chart. But, Scranton? Someone told me it's where the NBC series "The Office" is based. I didn't see the draw.

But like an ongoing stormy romance, I received another chance. A came into my office this afternoon and explained to me about charity running. She too was kicking herself for not registering for Chicago in time, but who among us knows what they are going to be doing six months from now? No one knew the race was about to fill up.

A registered for Chicago last year, got injured and had to scratch. She ate her entry fee. The purchase of a $100 t-shirt, was how she termed it. And the shirt sucked, she added.

A had been talking before Chicago had closed about maybe running for a charity. She had found a qualifying charity that benefitted two causes she felt deeply about, education and helping persons from impoverished circumstances.

This charity still had seven entries available for Chicago. The charity required a commitment of $500 worth of fund raising. Whatever you don’t raise, you owe. Paying that amount would be a body slam but it wouldn’t be a death blow (some charities require a commitment of several thousand dollars).

I was seduced. Every marathoner should run for a charity at least once, I figured. I used my American Express card for the $110 race entry fee. I used my Capital One card for the $500 charity commitment. A took my forms and her forms off to the fax machine.

Now there are five slots left for A Running Start Foundation instead of seven. It’s a wonderful charity, folks. It’s going to be a wonderful race.