Of Lakes, Museums, and Frank Gehry

There is no shortgage of unique, scenic trails in Chicago's park district along the lake. Here, runners cross over the highway from Millennium Park, home of the Frank Gehry-designed Pritzker Amphitheater.

I have grown up a Baltimore fan--from the city, to its sports teams, to its lore. So when I say, on a cultural and runner/biker-level, Baltimore could learn a lot from Chicago, I don't make that statement lightly. Of course, Orioles and Ravens fans are still superior beings to White Sox and Bears fans :)

Apologies for not updating the site sooner--the last five days, I have been in Chicago for the American Association of Museums' annual meeting. Simply awesome on all fronts. Great conference, great museums to take in, and 3 running explorations that covered ground in the city, along the Lakeside Trail, out onto Navy Pier, and looping through scenic parks.

Architecturally, Chicago is a marvel. And buildings aside, the thoughtful planning that has given runners and bikers uninterrupted lakeside trails, and other wanderers, locals, and tourists, beautifully landscaped gardens and parks, in the midst of the city, could stand to permeate cities and small towns alike.

I actually managed to run 3 of the 4 mornings we woke up in Chicago--each with its own exploratory goal. I won't go into specific runs here, maybe another time, other than to say that the "Windy City" earned its street cred with me this morning. I set out to run for 60-70 minutes this morning, on what was the coldest morning of our trip, out the door at about 5:45 a.m.

Chicago's Lakeside Trail, if you vary the main path slightly, will run you by the Adler Planetarium, at 75 years old, the first planetarium in the western hemisphere (hey, I was at a museum conference).

I noticed it was cool, and could hear the wind, but couldn't really feel it. Having past the Shedd Aquarium, and coming up onto the Lakeside Center, McCormick Place (where our conference was being held, about 2 miles from where we were staying), I was passed by a group of tech-y bikers, decked with new-fangled gear and weather reports. I heard one of them say, "about 20 knots," then didn't think about it for a while, checking out other sights.

About 10 minutes later, it hit me: I could feel the wind at my back. This meant my out-and-back run was going to be a beast for the "and-back" leg. The "Windy City" left its calling card on the return--yet my time back was almost identical to the time on the way out. It just took a lot more to pull it off.

The Lakeside Trail, morning, afternoon, and evening, was bustling with runners and bikers. Chicago has kept them in mind in its layout. I am glad to have spent a few days among their ranks--enjoying the new land- and cityscape, and getting to know a new place, as a runner.

Night Runner

Mikes Keene and Valliant, after a 7-mile night run at Wye Island, refuel at the Keene mothership.

Now I know what David Hasselhoff would have felt like... if he hadn't had K.I.T.T. and had to run everywhere instead of taking his tricked-out Trans-Am. Okay, maybe not, but we did manage to get in a 7+ mile night run on Tuesday night at Wye Island, so we are at least "night runners" now.

Wye Island is a great expanse of dirt roads, wooded trails, grassy cross-countryesque trails through fields, and some paved roads. We have used it as a looped training grounds, logging 10, 19, 17, and 26.4-mile runs, in a picturesque setting, on softer terrain, and away from traffic. Our loops have generally taken us by our vehicle, so it is easy to refuel. It has been a welcome running sanctuary. Up to last night, all our runs had been during daylight.

My first mistake was loaning Mike K. Neal Jamison's great book, Running Through the Wall: Personal Encounters With the Ultramarathon. When he returned it, he was smitten, "We've got to do a night run! All these ultra runners talk about races going through the night. We could pick a full moon, hit Wye Island, and I doubt we'd even need flash lights."

After emailing a park ranger there and getting permission for the endeavor, May seemed like the best time to try to make it happen. Having said that, Mike was nursing an ailing calf, post 2 straight weekends of PR races, and neither of us had the free time this week we'd hoped for. So a 3-hour expedition turned into a sub-70-minute fun run, that finished with a momentum-gaining fast mile at the end.

I have never run at night, discounting the occasional inebriated jaunt from a bar or party quite a few years ago (I should note, I have left for long runs at 4:30 or 5:00 a.m, when it is still dark and the moon is out, but the difference seems to me to be sleep first, wake up, and go, rather than go at the end of the day). It is a great and charging experience. Mike was right, even with some cloud cover, neither flashlight nor headlamp was necessary--natural light was plenty.

We parked at the equestrian center, and used the main road, which is a wide dirt road, as our route. At the far end of the road, is the Osage Orange Trail, a 1.1 mile out-and-back wooded-tunnel of a trail, which seems to jettison me through it, day or night. Last night it was like a game--flying down the trail in the dark, flowing with the trail, and dodging the potentially bludgeoning low-hanging branches. At one end of the trail is a beach, and coming out the other was moonlight over the fields, forests, and roads.

Our run was from roughly 10:30 - 11:4o p.m. It was interesting to ask your energy to peak when it is usually on recharge. I dug my first dose of night running--certainly due to a great combination of venue, company, and concept. I look forward to seeing what and where the next installment will be.

As for next on the running adventure list: I have it in my mind to do a trans-St. Michaels run: from the CBMM parking lot, to Royal Oak, to Bellevue, go across on the Oxford-Bellevue Ferry, run through Oxford, up Oxford Road, to the Easton Bypass, onto St. Michaels Road, then back to St. Michaels. Total trip is between 25 and 30 miles.

Bridge-to-Bridge Extreme Half-Marathon

Lab rat Mike Keene testing the Bridge-to-Bridge route in 30 degree, snowy weather. April 7 marked the B2B "Extreme" run.

Epic is one of my favorite words. I get lost in epic literature--sweeping tales of awesome journeys--and I am easily excited by the prospect of epic adventures (which partially explains my desire to run trail ultra marathons).

When we put a training run of the Bridge-to-Bridge course on our calendars for April 7, it didn't figure to be such an adventure. That's why they play the games.

At 6 a.m. it was about 30 degrees, with driving snow. Leaving Tilghman, Mike Keene and I employed the Jedi (a.k.a close-your-eyes, look down, and only look up to get your bearing when absolutely necessary) method of navigating to avoid severe wind and snow stinging our eyes and leaving us sightless. The terrain for the first 3 miles was snow and slush, and the whole scene was surreal. There is no doubt that cars going by correctly classified us as "idiots."















Gear was the operative word for the first half of the run. Making the right call--rain jacket and pants over base layer, then adjusting on the fly, not to mention toting the camera, keeping it dry, and snapping a few photos. Our pace was slower for those reasons, and we hit the half-way mark--the Wittman sign on Route 33, across from McMartin & Beggins Furniture and Pot Pie Road--in 1:09 on the mark.

St. Michaels Road has its share of twists and turns. Mike pointed out that the wind had hit us from every direction, without having shifted. Yesterday, it was ever present, but never as bad as the stretch from Tilghman Island to Sherwood, where there is nothing between the road and Eastern Bay.

Prior to the half-way point, we had hit a groove, which we kept for the rest of the run. The snow made for a serene backdrop of beautiful fields with snow-covered trees and lanes, and a combination of conversation and awestruck silence created a fitting soundtrack. We ran the second 6.55 miles in 58 minutes, to give us a 2:07 finishing mark for 13.1 miles, without pushing the pace.

Meeting in the dark at 6 a.m. to go run 13 miles, on the road, in the snow on a Saturday morning is one way to kick-start your own mini epic adventure. It was a stellar way to start a day; get to know the B2B course; and to send out my 34th year. Today, I have become an old runner, at 35. ;-P

Epiphany Alley

A straight stretch of road en route to Mt. Pleasant Circle in St. Michaels; one of two regular running routes at work.

Spring can hold some of the best runs of the year. The warming days are freeing as shorts and short sleeves work their way back into the reached-for attire. And unlike fall, a 65 or 70 degree day in the spring is on the warm side of the spectrum. Hitting 80 degrees this past Tuesday was (insert your superlative word here).

Early morning, I got off to a late start with the wake-up routine, and opted to toggle the day to allow a run after dropping Anna, our 5-year-old, off at school, but still before work. I parked at the Museum, cranked the i-pod and picked the shorter of two regular daytime running routes, across Route 33, to Fremont Street, right on Railroad Avenue, then down and around Mt. Pleasant Circle, following the same route back (I measured this route today, by truck odometer at 4.25 miles). Both routes wind back-roads west of the town proper; I am always amazed that St. Michaels hides tree-lined rural roads behind main street-shops and arm-in-arm houses.

I am not generally an i-pod runner, but I have come to appreciate the cadence and company of upbeat reggae or thought-provoking, head-nodding rap on runs at various distances (a 20-mile run from Easton to St. Michaels and back can use an extra kick). On Tuesday, a song lyric stuck in my head on the return portion of the route, "God lit the wick, so I gotta let the light shine." The thrust, for me on a stellar, sunny, short-sleeve day, enjoying a great morning run, was that you are given certain things that you take to--whether it is running, painting, woodworking, writing, sailing--and that you are best served by spending time on those things. Develop what you are good at. Do what you do.

I am not a gifted runner, not a front-of-pack rabbit. But I dig it. I take to it. I have thought some of my most creative and insightful thoughts while running. I hit the full range of emotions on the road or trail for a stretch of time. I live life more fully than when I have gone through periods when I am not running regularly. I have seen how I approach life, family, work, play, as a runner, and as a sitter-still. For me, the wick has already been lit. The choice has been made. I gotta run...

(cool hip-hop beat fades in louder as the pace picks up, and runner moves up the road)

Return to Tuckahoe

Mike Keene running to the sun on the Tuckahoe Valley Trail.

I have not been shot at trail running at Tuckahoe State Park. I have, however, had to cut a route short to avoid been driven by scent hounds. And being shot at wouldn't necessarily dissuade me from going back--Tuckahoe is the promise land for trail running on Maryland's Eastern Shore. It's a rolling network of singletrack, horse trails, creek crossings, and as many hills as you will find in the land of flat farm and forest acreage.

Yesterday (2/24), Mike Keene and I made our first return there since running the Holiday Lake 50K++. We carved out a 10-mile route that included the Tuckahoe Valley Trail, Creekside Cliff, and Pee Wees Trail, with a minimal road stretch to get back to the lake and the truck. It was roughly 30 degrees, with winds from 10-20 mph, giving us a functional temperature of 20 degrees. We left Easton at 6:00am, and took in the bulk of the sunrise on the trail. No wildlife encounters--though I have come across everything from fox, deer, a startled and disgruntled raccoon, and one morning, what had to be the fastest land turkey on Delmarva.

Our return to the trails also represented a first for me: hauling a digital camera along for the run to get some pictures. This was all-in-all a successful endeavor, though new batteries will be on the pre-run checklist next time.

Tuckahoe has been our main training grounds for Holiday Lake and will be as well for the JFK 50-miler in November. It is also, simply put, the best place to run on the Eastern Shore (I am willing to modify that statement if someone can point me to somewhere comparable). I first discovered the park about 14 years ago as a mountain biking destination, then forgot about it until a couple years ago when the trail running hobo jumped the thru-train to the soul. Since then, I have mapped out routes from 4 to 20 miles, either solo, or dragging dog, friend, or family out there whenever possible.

If you are inspired to take a trip out there, I recommend parking by the lake, and building your route off the 4.5-mile (from point-to-point) Tuckahoe Valley Trail, which connects to most all the other trails. Creekside Cliff (1.25 miles), Little Florida (1.75 miles), and Pee Wees Trail (1.6 miles) are all exceptional. Adkins Arboretum is located next to the park, and some of the Tuckahoe Valley Trail has shared stretches with the Arboretum.

Tuckahoe is a managed hunting area, which seems an interesting concept for a system of trails widely used by horse riders, mountain bikers, dog walkers, and runners, but checking hunting seasons for the Shore makes it fairly easy to avoid noisy, heart-racing run-ins. And if you are just jones-ing, and willing to take your chances with hunter run-ins (as I have done) the cautionary bright-colored apparel (neon orange preferred) can serve as your yellow brick road.