I didn’t get my 10. I wanted to, but it wasn’t the day for it. I got barely over 9 including the “stopped watch” walk breaks. I went north, but hadn’t been up that way in a while; I knew the lake was unusually high and covered the designated running path, but wasn’t prepared for it by the time I got there. I had to divert to the “steps” close to Lakeshore.

On the way I was pleasantly surprised but the sign directing me to the partially completed “flyover” extension, I was less delighted by the newer Chicago hill it created. Damn. I was not ready for that; a legit hill, and it sucked.

My pace varied and I took the breaks I needed in the heat. I was not fast, not my desired or optimistic goal pace, but I got it done without doubting that I could. I’m more convinced that this is what I need. My pace, my time, my bathroom breaks. The good news is I didn’t fart! The bad news is that my playlist desperately needs to be purged of cheap covers of songs added to playlists cobbled together by companies that don’t want to pay the front end royalties.

I went north from Madison to a quarter mile north of Castaways on North Avenue beach.  That’s a lot of “north.”

I lingered at the Fleet Feet aid station, debating going further, enjoying the small patch of shade, probably a bit too long, and decided I’d rather tack on the extra mile closer to home in case things went badly. I wasn’t sure lingering was the best thing, but it was OK. It’s what I did back in the day. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ll do if I need to on a hot/humid morning. It’s familiar and I reveled in it. Kudos to those folks, by the way!

I didn’t do all I wanted, but it was OK. I didn’t fell like everyone’s eyes were on me. I was soaked from stopping at water fountains and pouring water over the top of my head to cool down. I sweat so much it was tricking down my legs. Between that and my Bondi band headband, I looked like a drenched pirate.

The header images are of the awesome view I get 2.5-3 miles from home. I’m still aiming for 12 next weekend, but will be happy with 11. I’ll be happier if the guys slinging overpriced gatorade are stationed on Columbus and Adams to make the last few miles a little easier. I finished the last .2 in the park near my place and saw an adorable baby bulldog hopping along and enjoying itself immensely. I don’t have any regrets today.