Riddle Run - 28.35 Miles

What a ride!

Like Mazzie suggested, I had a 100% blast today.

I was lucky that everything held together - body, mind, spirit. I had some low points, but that is part of the fun of long runs, and I was fortunate that each low point was followed by moments of pure elation and joy.

The weather held out, although it was nippy during the first few loops. Temperature at race start was 9 degrees, with a 15-20 mph wind. Being a prairie run, that means not much wind break, although there were a few parts of the run that had some tree cover.

Standing Around the Fire,
Waiting for the Race to Begin

A good turn out, over 100 people. However, I didn't know how many loops each runner was doing, so someone could be running a good pace, and I get behind that person, and think, wow, this guy/girl is fit, but then they stop after 1 x 4 mile loop.

Race Director Jeff Riddle saying, "No Wimps!"

It is important with a multiple-distance race to be watchful of my comfort level and to run my own race. At the end of the third loop a guy blew by me in the last mile, I let him go, although for a few moments my instinct was to chase him down to the staging area. Good thing I didn't, as that runner was finishing up his 12 mile jaunt, and I still had 16 to go.

I am happy with how I paced my race. I checked my loop times when I got home and realized I averaged 45-46 minutes per loop for all 7 loops. That comes out to about an 11:20 pace, which is quite slow, but considering the conditions of the course, I think I did pretty well when all things are considered.

I had to add 20 minutes to my total running time because after the 3rd loop I had to stop at my car and refuel for each remaining loop, which added 5 minutes per loop to my result.

I was trying hard to get in and out of my refuel area as quickly as possible, and I think I made some improvement when compared to last year's Farmdale race, where I lounged around eating and drinking after each 11 mile loop. I think I can still find some improvement in this area of race management, so I will keep working on it.

The first loop I had to try to keep myself in check so I brought my camera along and stopped to make a few pictures along the way. That kept me from going too fast.

There was a dangerous creek crossing at the midway point of each loop, a runner could either step gingerly on ice covered rocks to avoid getting wet, or step directly into the freezing ankle deep water.

When I got to the crossing the first time I had nobody behind me, so I stopped and gazed at the rocks for about 1 minute. 10-12 runners then arrived at the creek so I moved out of the way to watch them cross. After 7-8 runners crossed successfully, I jumped in line and got myself to the other side without falling or getting wet.

During the 2nd loop when I got to the creek, a runner ahead of me was not so lucky. I watched him slip on one of the rocks and fall directly into the water, butt first. It looked like he hurt his hand, and he started walking instead of running after removing himself from the creek. Ouch!

100% of the trails were covered in 1-2 inches of slippery snow, so I never was able to land flat on my feet, it was always at an angle, and it made pushing off more difficult than normal. It felt like I was expending more energy per step than I was accustomed to.

Because of this my hip flexors became fatigued during loop 3. They rarely get sore, rather it is my quads which are the usual complainers, so I had to deal with not having good leg lift for the rest of the run.

I was worried that as the race wore on, my hip muscles would get worse, but it turned out that they remained just slightly fatigued all the way through, so I got lucky.

Surprisingly my quads, hamstrings and calves performed well considering the whole run was in snow. They did not get sore, and only had some minor fatigue in loops 6 and 7.

I experienced a drop in energy during the 4th loop, but I knew from my training runs that it should pass. I kept telling myself during the low that once I got through the 4th loop I would have some momentum to finish, because of being past the halfway point.

When I began the 5th loop, I knew the real struggle was beginning. I kept telling myself to control my effort and to step lightly, and tried keeping my upper body relaxed and loose.

My breathing was good until the final loop, when my chest muscles got a little tight, which caused some minor discomfort when trying to inhale large quantities of air.

By the 5th loop I felt like I was out on the course by myself, because I passed only 1 walker and 2 runners during the 4 miles. I figured that most of the runners had quit after 16 miles. This knowledge sapped some of my energy, but it also inspired me because I thought it would be cool to be one of the few runners to finish 7 loops.

Once I got to the 6th loop I felt relieved, because I now knew I had a chance to finish, I just had to stay disciplined with my pace, which was easier now that there were no runners around. I once again experienced some energy lows, but I was happy how well my feet and legs were holding out. I was constantly monitoring my feet because of how tricky the footing was, but they never got tired or felt sore. I passed the walker and 2 runners again.

My favorite moment of the race happened during the final mile of the 6th loop. This was a tough stretch of uphill running into a side wind. I had forgotten how hilly this course was. Nothing steep, but some subtle long inclines which were good at defeating morale.

I was starting to waver during that final mile of the 6th loop, wondering how I was going to continue, because I was feeling so crappy. Electrobank by The Chemical Brothers then started to play on my ipod, and I had a surge of adrenaline shoot through my head. I started dancing crazy while I was running, picking up the pace, swinging my arms, shaking my legs out to the sides. I know I must have looked like a clown out there in the desolate prairie dancing under the cold sun, but nobody was around and it made me happy. I started shadow boxing, feeling stubborn and willful, and I started punching at the sun, which was just to the left of my eyes.

"I'm gonna beat you today sun", I yelled out, punching it square in the face a few times, "knock you out!"

This foolishness got me to the staging area and I couldn't believe my spirit concocted such a gimmick to get me through that rough stretch.

When I completed the 6th loop the race director came up to me as I was writing down my time and seemed excited. He asked me how I felt, and I told him great, and that I felt I had a good chance to finish the 7th loop.

"Oh, you'll finish that loop, these guys here will give you a hard time if you don't", he told me, pointing to a group of runners who were sitting by the fire, talking, and drinking beer.

Seeing how nice it was to be sitting down by the fire, I tried not to let my focus waver. I was psyched that I had made it to the final loop, and was excited to get back out there and finish off the run.

The 7th loop was similar to the 6th, which was a relief, because throughout the race I walked only 200m or so. Everything was forward motion with a running stride, even if it was slow and methodical.

I threw a few punches at the sun during the final mile, knowing I had it beat. I kicked it home the final 400m, feeling great as the beer drinking runners around the fire cheered me on as I sprinted the final 100m.

When I finished I received my well deserved homemade cream filled cupcake, stood by the fire, and drank water. I later noticed that the cupcake made a ring of chocolate around my mouth, making me resemble the clown I was during the bout with the sun.

I talked briefly with a local ultra legend, and he told me that only 7 or 8 people did the full 28 miles, that made me feel good.

All in all, a great experience, what a race, I love running long distance!

Climbatize played on my ipod during the 7th loop - that got me moving!

You Should Be Dancing

"When I take off for a run now, I begin to think I was crazy. Because now, when I see a picture or read a story about the run, I think “how did I do that”? You have to be crazy to imagine you can run the world. But, it’s better to be a crazy, happy man than a boring man."
Serge Roehteli, after completing a 25,000 mile run around the world

Vine Street

Listened to this on my run yesterday (Thanks, JD :)

Dead Man

"If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is: infinite."
William Blake

Black Elk Speaks

2 days.

440 days of running, and it leads to this :

28 miles under a winter sky, watched by small trees and faded grass.

Just the world and me, going to battle.

Hours spent in the fields, preparing my spirit - joy, discomfort, doubt - triumph, defeat - done over and over again.

The way has been traversed, the unknown and the fear are gone.

All that remains is the breathing, the striding of the legs, the cold wind beating me back.

The objects of the world speed and move around me, feeding me warmth and energy, and I am in the middle of it all.

It is time to go to war.

Today is a good day to die....

Orange Kay - Surreal Contacts, Artifacts, and Joseph and Kiki I

Charles : I don't like people who talk all the time. I like to do all the talking, which is why I think I'm so fond of you, 'cause you're so easy-going. Although I do sense a little tension in you from time to time. So, you were out in the world, huh? What was it like?
Karl : It was too big.
From Slingblade

It is a big world. So big, I sometimes wonder how my mind can keep things ordered and in focus.

Then, feeling like a spirit animal, running across frozen roads, a man born to be a solitary wolf, I seek companionship in distant memories and future contacts.

My spirit senses a signal, a gesture from the past - and I sit down to write it out, wondering why and who for.

A few days later an answer arrives -

"Is this you and your correct email address?!! I just googled you and spent some time trying to uncover your email address from numerous web sites with the reference "James Webb photographer" and with great determination and patience, I finally found you! "

I must be in a dream, but I don't want to wake just yet. The last time I heard from Steffen was 5-6 years ago.

She has been in and out of my thoughts during that time, but what prompted me to sit down and write a lengthy blog entry about her? The details ravaged my memory with clarity and I felt compelled to get them out into the light.

Oh my......

Some more artifacts found yesterday :

Walked to the grocery store after work today and made a picture of a shopping cart :

After walking to the grocery I ran in 3-4 inches of fresh snow. It was tough, it took about twice the amount of energy than usual just to move forward. I ran to the arboretum, then did 10 hill repeats, watching the sledders fly down the hill, but I felt faster and was surely having just as much fun!

When I got home I wrote out the beginning fragment for Joseph & Kiki. Maybe I should not be setting my memories loose into the world, it is incomprehensible that Steffen would contact me just as I wrote that piece for her.

~ ~ ~

Joseph and Kiki I

My time spent at Morningstar was better than expected. It was my first job out of college, and it allowed me to escape the car culture of the suburbs.

After 2 months of working at Morningstar I moved out of my parent's home and moved to Chicago. I found a cheap studio apartment in Uptown, a block from Foster Ave beach. Considering that my path was photography, the building was appropriately called the Parc Paris.

One of the things the landlord was happy about was that I owned a car, because he could count on me paying to use the building's parking lot.

While it was true that I owned a car at the time I signed the lease, I did not think it necessary to tell the landlord that I planned on selling it once I got settled in, which took only one day.

When I stopped by the landord's office after my first month to pay the rent, he asked about my car, and where I was parking it. When I told him I had sold it, a crestfallen look overcame his face. Although I felt a bit sorry about his lost income, I was happy to finally be free of owning a car. I now could walk everywhere, and took public transportation for further jaunts, and loved it.

The Parc Paris was in the midst of being renovated when I moved in, with new flooring being installed in the lobby. I soon realized that I was one of the few tenants currently living in the building. I kind of liked it that way, it was quiet, and it felt as if some of the hallways were haunted with shady transactions from days gone by.

If I looked out my east facing windows I could see a sliver of the lake far off to the left, but the main view was dominated by the building across the way, with a parking lot separating the two.

It was not a very safe neighborhood. One evening as I had the candles burning and Mozart on the stereo, I heard a racket in the parking lot below and looked to see 2 men removing a tire from a car. Once the tire was removed the two men began to run down the street, rolling the tire with them.

One block west was Vietnam Town, which was a 2 block collection of stores and restaurants owned by Vietnamese people on Argyle Street. The elevated train stopped in the middle of Vietnam Town, so I walked through the area almost everyday.

One day I saw a painter sitting on a stool, a large 20 x 24 canvas resting on a portable easel in front of him. I stopped to have a look, and saw that he was painting the Red Rooster bar, which was across the street from where he sat. I sometimes felt the urge to walk into the Red Rooster, but I never summoned the courage to do so.

It wasn't a bad painting, considering he had to put up with various people looking over his shoulder. Over the next few months I would see the man out there, painting the different scenes and buildings of Argyle Street. The main thing I remember about his work was that everything was dominated by a red and blue color scheme.

I took the elevated train to work Monday-Friday, and realized I liked train travel better than driving. I think at that time I was reading the poems of Rilke and Miloz, which put a somber, romantic touch to my daily train travels.

I also spent time writing lengthy journal entries while I sat on the train. I loved to write, and was inspired by all the things which surrounded me.

Morningstar is a financial publisher, and at the time I started in 1991 had just 175 employees. I was hired into the circulation department, and when a shipping department was added a few months later, I moved into it with my manager and a couple of others.

My manager, Erwin, started working there a few weeks after me. I had a chance to see his resume and saw that he graduated with a degree in fine arts painting. He was about 34 or 35 years old, a dark haired Dutchman who was easy going and soft spoken.

I immediately took a liking to Erwin, and once we got settled into our new office space he proceeded to hire more people. He hired a Sri Lankan named Mo, who had recently graduated from the School of the Art Institute.

Mo was quiet, and good natured, and as our department grew, and needed more help, Mo recommended to Erwin friends of his who had also graduated from the Art Institute.

After a couple of years I found myself surrounded by painters, potters, and musicians. We were all there to work an easy day, collect our pay, and then live for the night when we could pursue our dreams and passions.

After 6 months of working with Erwin he agreed to allow me to work from 2:00-10:00pm. I loved being outdoors and in the sun, so working 9:00-5:00 was not something I enjoyed. Starting at 2:00pm, I had my mornings free to wander the city and photograph.

Not having a wife or girlfriend, I did not have to worry about socializing in the evenings, and working evenings was a perfect excuse to give to someone who invited me to a bar or party.

In 1994 Morningstar left the Monadnock building because it was now employing over 300 people, and moved to a newly built office building on the corner of Wacker and Orleans, the Chicago River flowing right across the street. I loved walking across the Orleans Street bridge to get to and from work, as I now exited the train at the Merchandise Mart station.

It was soon after moving into the new building that Erwin hired Joseph, another friend of Mo's, and a recent graduate of the Art Institute.

to be continued.....


Orange Kay :

Fragment

Super fun day, and productive.

Ran a shortened South Farms loop for 7.25 miles. I felt strong, and I ran most of the miles at a faster than normal pace, but it wasn't forced, just my body enjoying itself.

Energy was higher than normal, had adrenaline similar to a race, pretty amazing!

While I was running I had an idea to write about Joseph and Kiki sometime soon, and then I remembered some interesting things that happened with Joseph.

When I got home I tried to find some slides I made of them at their painting studio. I could not remember where I put the slides and I ended up going through all of my boxes of correspondence and old pictures.

Whenever I do something like that I remember things long forgotten, and it makes me feel nostalgic, sad, happy, lots of emotions swirled together.

Here are some random things I found today in the boxes :

Joseph & Kiki

I'm Just a Little Kid




Slides of Photographs



Random Drawing



I'm Just a Little Kid II

I was hoping to start writing about Joseph & Kiki tonight but I ran out of time because of all the searching. At least I found the slides, and the 2 paintings which Joseph gave to me.

Rachel saw the paintings next to the computer and asked who made them.

"Joseph".

"Those are hideous".

"Well, his girlfriend is now an internationally famous artist."

"They still suck."

Not much else I can say to that.

I was thinking maybe it's the breakfast I ate this morning which made me run so well?

Cherries, Water, Fruit Bowl, Oatmeal

I photographed this on my walk to work this morning :

Lincoln Square Mall Parking Lot

Max Richter :

Blue Light

I'm feeling ethereal, like a ghost almost.

I step into the day as if nothing can harm me, foolish I know, but I don't mean the kind of harm a bus can do if I slip on the ice and fall into the middle of Race Street.

My inner equanimity is approaching something similar to what I experienced when I practiced Zen everyday during my 22nd year. I'm nowhere near that state of mind, but everyday I recall that year, and can't forget what I learned from the experience.

Some people ingest drugs to have a religious experience, but I went the longer way, which was sitting still for hours everyday, allowing my body and mind to merge with my surroundings.

When my mind feels like a falling leaf approaching water, and my body a stone which nothing wants to disturb, then strange, other-worldly things begin to occur.

And so, although butterflies are not resting on my hand, geese are not following me, and people are not approaching me as if I had a $1000 in my pocket, I feel I have reached a place parallel to the one 20 years ago.

When I am running along, I fall into a zone of comfort, and I merge into the landscape not as spirit, but an animal traversing ground on the hunt, or, speeding along as the hunted.

Whether I am caught and eaten, or catch and devour, I am at one with life and death, wind and rain, cold and snow, season and year.

The sun rises, and the sun sets.....

Worked on this yesterday :

Heard this on my ipod when I was running hills this afternoon in the snow, it reminded me of Mazzie from N.H. : )

Striking While the Iron is Hot

"It is said that Tokunaga Kichizaemon repeatedly complained, 'I've grown so old that now, even if there were to be a battle, I wouldn't be able to do anything. Still, I would like to die by galloping into the midst of the enemy and being struck down and killed. It would be a shame to do nothing more than to die in one's bed."
From Hagakure

I have been working quite a bit lately with pictures, and have even written a couple of entries about people I have known in the past.

Perhaps it is because I have decreased my running the past 7 days, and my energy needs to find a way to be spent. I have tried giving it to Carolyn at the FRB, but I still have too much.

Oh well, Rachel leaves for Hawaii in a couple of weeks, and she is taking her camera - I won't be able to make pictures while she is gone :(

I guess I should buy my own digital camera, but I am trying to save money for Italy and also running expenses.

Working part time is great, but I am going to have to increase my hours or I will be broke by the end of the year....

Made portraits of Maggie and Mika this week :

Maggie



Mika

Sunday Morning

I have been getting up earlier than usual this past week, maybe that is a sign that spring is coming?

I got out of bed at 6:00am and decided I would run 1 mile to Brookens Gym to do some strength exercises.

Brookens is managed by the park district, so I have a key to let myself in during off hours.

I ended up doing 10 sets of pullups, pushups, and crunches, then I went outside and ran 3 miles in the adjacent park. There is a hill there so I ran up and down a few times.

Less than a week to go for Riddle Run, I just need to relax and let my body strengthen up through easy running.

Made this picture this morning :

Sunday Morning

Hard to Live in the City - Steffen II

During the time I was trying to get my fitness back to a normal level, I was running in cheap Reebok athletic shoes. I never gave much thought to shoes, other than they had to be less than $50.

When I was running at Blackwell in my early 20's I wore basketball shoes and never had a problem, although they seemed a bit heavy.

As my Chicago runs increased beyond 30 minutes, I began to develop large blisters on both of my heels. I could not get rid of them, and they began to grow in length as each run progressed.

Summer had arrived, and other than my blisters, I felt great. I was working at the beautiful Monadnock building, I had met some photography friends in the darkroom, and I was starting to look and feel fit.

Steffen and I went for a Saturday run on a particularly hot afternoon. When we finished I stopped to jump in the lake. When I removed my shoes Steffen noticed my blisters and told me how gross they looked. I laughed, and told her they felt worse than they looked.

As we walked to the Lakeview neighborhood together, she told me that if I wore a good pair of running shoes, the blisters would disappear.

I was skeptical, I believed it was because my feet had gotten soft from no running, and the blisters would eventually lessen as my feet's skin became stronger.

Steffen ended up convincing me that the shoes were to blame, so after changing and showering, we walked to a local running store. Steffen told me Asics was a good brand, so I asked the sales clerk for them and he brought out a few pair. They felt light and comfortable, but the price was $100. I noticed that the cheapest Asics was $75, so I decided to blow my budget again and get the $100 shoes.

I can still remember my first run with Asics - it felt like I was dancing on a cloud, running had become too easy, I was cheating!

Steffen was right, too, within 1 week my blisters disappeared and my fitness level rose because I was now able to run faster and longer because I no longer stepped in pain.

On a hot July Sunday Steffen called and asked me to run over to her place for lunch. She was staying at her ex-boyfriend Darrin's high rise condo off Michigan ave, so I would have to run about 6 miles to get there.

No problem, I told her. I laced up my Asics and took off running into the hot city - Belmont harbor, Lincoln Park, Diversey Harbor, North Ave Beach....

...Oak Street Beach, then using the Michigan Ave. underpass to get into the Gold Coast neighborhood, into the elevator, up 67 flights, and knocking on the door, relaxing in the cool shadows of the hallway.

Darrin was out of the state so Steffen was living there until he returned. She didn't have a place to live currently, and was struggling with money because she was a full time photography student at Columbia College.

Steffen took me to the Columbia College darkroom once because she needed my help with one of her projects. The portrait of her I posted in the last entry was made after we finished up a day in the Columbia Darkrooms. We crossed Michigan Ave, it was a cool autumn day, and we sat in Grant Park to rest. She was wearing a sunflower hat, and it inspired me to make a portrait of her sitting on the bench next to some black men.

When Steffen let me into Darrin's studio, I felt a sense of relief and euphoria - The odors from the food put a smile on my face, and she had the air conditioning cranked high. I was covered in sweat, and soon got a sweet chill that put me into one of the best moods I have ever been in.

I can't remember what the food was, but I do remember that it was an even better meal than the one she made at my apartment. I have never had a better meal before or since. I savored each bite, it was truly a work of art.

When we finished eating Steffen wanted to sunbathe on the roof of the condo. As she changed into her bikini I walked over to the large window and looked out on Lake Michigan. What a view, up 67 stories and looking at all that blue. This was turning out to be quite a day.

We took the elevator to the top floor, and I saw there was a pool on the roof. There were a few people swimming and tanning. Steffen got into a lounge chair and asked me to rub lotion on her back and shoulders.

I had never rubbed lotion on someone before, so I studied the bottle to find out how much I should use. Steffen was laying on her stomach, and she turned her head towards me, wondering what I was doing. She laughed when she saw me looking perplexed, reading the label on the yellow and white tube, "Jim, come on! You remind me of my friend David, you two are just alike."

I sometimes find myself in situations where everyone appears to know what they are doing, while I am feeling lost and confused, and unable to hide the feeling, everyone turns to watch the poor sap who isn't in on the secret.

"I've never done this before", I told her.

She took the tube from me, "here, I'll show you what to do. Take your shirt off."

"umm, I don't need that stuff, look....", I said. Pulling my shirt off I showed her I was tan, and not burned.

"well, just squirt some gel into your palm and rub it into my back!"

She turned her head away and I watched her untie the string of her bikini.

"She must think I really am an angel, or gay", I thought.

Trying to remain composed, I looked up at the sky, which seemed no closer to us even though we were so high up.

I rubbed the lotion into her back, massaging it at the same time. It felt good to touch her taut back muscles.

The sickly sweet smell of the lotion made me think of the beach, and I started to become restless. Even though I had run 6 miles to the condo, I wanted to keep running in the afternoon heat. I was back to being in great shape, and was loving it.

The sweat was beading on my brow, and the sun was bright as I watched the swimmers and sunbathers.

"Hey, let's go for a run after this", I suggested.

"Yeah, listen to you, your addicted to endorphins! I can't believe what kind of shape your in. When I met you you were so skinny."

She was right, I had come a long way in half a year, and was getting better at photography, too.

After 30 minutes we returned to Darrin's apartment, the cool gray shadows of the hallway seeming darker than they actually were because our eyes had been bleached from the glare of the sun.

Steffen changed into her running gear and we took off running down Michigan Ave.

I normally didn't go further than North Ave beach, so this was a new route for me. We turned east and ran to Navy Pier, which at that time still had derelict ships moored to the dock.

We then turned south and ran along the path which led to Grant Park.

The path was concrete and ugly, but it twisted and turned its way around Lake Shore Drive, allowing strange and unusual vistas to open and close. The sun was intense, and it was sapping my strength. I felt strong, though, and happy.

We went up a ramp and ran on a long bridge, and now in shade, I looked down to the grassy park and saw small distant trees throwing down violet shadows. The lake shimmered a hot blue, and white sailing boats were bobbing on the small waves.

When we got near the Shedd Aquarium we saw a small park with a beach. People were packed together, there was no place to move, but I told Steffen I wanted to jump in the water.

We weaved our way across the sand and I threw my shirt down, removed my shoes, and waded into the cool water.

As I stood waist deep, I looked at all the people. The red, blue and yellow colors blended together so that all objects appeared gray. The heat settled on my skin, the cold water beading on my legs. Steffen stood in the sand, smiling at me.

There wasn't much to think or do now, just stand in the water, and merge into the jagged shadows.


Worked on this picture yesterday evening :

Remembering Summer

Al Hammond Jr. :

In Transit - Steffen

My second year in Chicago, 1993, I moved into the Triangle Camera building on North Broadway.

I worked part time on Saturday evenings in the public darkroom in the basement of the building. I lived on the top floor, so I had only 3 flights of stairs to walk to develop my pictures.

The owner gave me a key so that I could work after hours, so I normally put in 12 hour days, working from 6:00pm - 6:00am.

It may sound like a dull way to spend a Saturday night, but as I liked to joke with the owner, I met more girls in the darkroom than I ever had in a bar.

One Saturday a beautiful dark haired woman walked down the stairs. She seemed a bit impatient, as if she needed to get a lot of work done in a short time. I quickly collected her money, gave her some darkroom supplies, and let her get to work.

I set myself up a couple of stations away from her, and as the night progressed, I got a chance to see what she was working on.

One of the benefits of working in a public darkroom is that I got to see what everyone was printing, because all pictures could be seen in the common developing and fixing trays.

I saw a lot of good work, and a lot of bad. One guy photographed bands for a living, he wasn't after the art look, but one girl I knew, Susan, could not stand his pictures. "What's the point, look at that shit, it's all the same."

People were curious about my work. One of my first nights working at the darkroom, Leigh, the girl managing the stations, was standing at the developer tray with me, our prints mixing together. When my image started to appear, I saw a look of disbelief on her face, and she let out a gasp.

"Ohhh, that's just like a Robert Frank", she kindly said. I looked closely at my picture. "No, it misses the mark." She looked more closely, and kind of agreed, but said, "yeah, but it's still good". I smiled. It was awesome to get that kind of reaction from someone, especially since I was just starting out.

I found myself checking out the dark haired woman's work. It looked like she was doing a documentary project on an old painter. I saw pictures of an elderly woman riding her bike with an easel on her back, also one where she was stooped in concentration, brush in hand, dabbing paint onto a piece of paper.

The pictures were not bad, especially since she was printing them on plastic resin coated paper, which gives a cheap effect. I figured they would look better on fiber paper.

About midway through the night I heard the woman slam her easel down in disgust. Everyone stopped their work and looked her way. I walked over to her, and asked if she needed any help.

My reaction surprised her, she must have been expecting me to come over to tell her to treat the equipment better.

She calmed down, smiled, and told me about her project.

When the session ended at midnight I was standing at the work counter waiting for the people to leave.

The woman walked up to me, hesitated a moment, then handed me her business card. I looked at it, her name was Steffen, she had an Italian last name.

Steffen

"Call me sometime, I'd like to go to lunch with you", she told me.

Yep, better than a bar, I thought to myself.

Later in the week I decided to call her. We set up a date and met over lunch. I can't remember much about the place we ate at, but she told me she believed I was one of her angels, sent down to earth to help her find her way.

I knew differently, but I didn't want to burst her bubble. Maybe people can be angels to others by helping them on their way.

She was older than me, I was 26, she was 37. She hadn't been married, did not have kids, but she was hoping to start a family soon.

We ended up becoming friends, and she was the person who got me back into running.

She loved to run, and was in terrific shape, with a body to match.

On the other hand, since moving to Chicago I had given up running, and was terribly out of shape. Being skinny helped hide the fact that I had lost my endurance, but she could tell I was in a sorry state of fitness.

One day she mentioned to me that I should try running.

"yeah, I used to run", I told her, remembering my Saturdays at Blackwell fondly.

"Yes! Get back into it, we could run together."

It sounded like a good idea to me. The lakefront was only 1 block from my apartment, so I had miles of gravel pathways to use.

The first day I could not run more than 1 mile. My knees wobbled, and I had lost my upper body strength. I was a wreck. I realized it was going to be a while before I could run with Steffen, so she had to wait patiently for me to get back into shape.

It ended up taking me 6 months of running 3 times a week before I felt I had recovered my normal strength.

Of course, Steffen did not want to wait this long, so I agreed to run with her after about 1 month of running. She was disappointed that I had to stop after 3 miles.

"That's it?" she complained.

"I'll get there, I need a few more sessions".

Steffen was a fantastic cook. My studio apartment had an enormous kitchen, which I never put to use, as my cupboards were always empty.

One evening Steffen stopped by after a darkroom session and asked me to make her something. The meal I made was a bust, absolutely the worst. I tried to make her stir fry, which consisted of rice and 1 can of warmed up mixed vegetables, with no spices.

She pushed the plate aside, "alright, let's go across the street and buy some groceries".

Across the street was Treasure Island, a fantastic European grocery store. My favorite item was a $3 bottle of French red table wine.

We walked the aisles together, filling the cart full. I ended up spending more than my budget allowed, but I figured it was a fair price to pay to spend some time with Steffen.

When we returned to my studio Steffen took over in the kitchen and made a delicious Italian meal of pasta, garlic bread, and soup. It was the best food I had tasted in a long while.

When the summer arrived I had gotten myself back into shape, and even felt comfortable enough to run shirtless along the lake. I had regained my muscles, and loved to feel the freedom of running with only a pair of shorts and shoes.

I got into the habit of jumping into the lake after my runs. It remains one of my favorite memories of Chicago. The lake stayed warm until October, so I would be out running in 55 degree weather and still jumping in the lake to cool off afterward.

North Ave Beach, Chicago

To be continued.....

Picture I worked on today :

5 Degrees

Al Hammond Jr. :

Knives from Bavaria - Barry and Maureen II

I took off my coat, and made myself comfortable on the couch. Maureen threw a sheet over me and I soon dozed off.

When I woke in the morning I lay still and let the dusty sunlight caress my eyes. Rainbow colored streaks of sun traveled on tiny highways around the room. I noticed the cat litter box was occupied.

I thought about Maureen and what she would have looked like in the shower.

Her guitar stood upright in the corner and I remembered how beautiful her songs were the night of the coffeehouse concert.

A while later Maureen got up and we spoke a bit.

I must have said something wrong, because as I lounged on her couch she became hysterical and said "get out, I don't want you in my house!"

Hearing it was like finding a purse in a refrigerator - bizarre, and misplaced.

I'm not one to hang around when I'm not wanted so I slowly got up from the couch, pressed my hair down to my forehead with my hand, put my jacket on, and started to walk out.

"Wait!" Maureen said in a half frantic voice. "Don't go. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

Maureen the folk singer is mentally unstable, I thought to myself.

Her face looked tired and her eyes were black and fearful.

I wondered what had happened to that cheerful, somewhat maudlin voice which echoed in my head. I didn't know whether to stay or go, so I stood in the room looking perplexed.

Maureen began telling me about her ex boyfriend, how she never should have left him. "Danny was good to me, Oh why did I leave him!" She seemed to be talking more to herself than me, so I just listened.

She told me she had the clap, but she had it treated and it should be fine now.

She used to hang out at the No Exit cafe, but the owner banned her because he blamed her for intentionally breaking the front window.

She had once threatened Danny with an ice pick.

By the time I got up to leave, I was thanking my heart for its infinite wisdom. If I had taken a shower with Maureen there is no telling where I would have ended up.

Out on the cold spring streets of Rogers Park, I wandered around, a bit dazed. I looked up at a street sign, someone had painted a T on Estes Avenue. The sky was a cold blue, the wind kicked my hair around, and I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

I walked to the beach and picked up oval glass pieces that had been worn and smoothed down by sand and water. I put one in my pocket.

A few weeks later Barry called. He mentioned that he had been seeing Maureen. I was surprised to hear this, and asked him what they had done together.

"We watched Chariots of Fire at her apartment", he told me.

I wondered what he thought about the cat litter box, and if Maureen asked him to take a shower.

I told Barry I had been over to her apartment also, and spent the night, and left it at that.

Later in the year I made it to Paris, wandered around Montmartre and the Seine, and was thankful the world hadn't come to an end.

When the fateful day in September came and went, I wondered about Barry and how he was going about putting his life back together. I lost contact with him soon after, and didn't have the chance to see if he kept his faith in the bible.

The following year I was riding on an elevated train, returning from a trip to a west side photography store.

I had pulled a framed photograph which I had recently made out of my backpack and was admiring it. It was a solarized picture of a book with some chess pieces scattered about, and a large dead fly in the middle of it all. I planned to give it to a friend that day.

I looked out the train window, the scratched, milky glass softening the edges of the city buildings.

I sensed that someone was standing next to me and I looked up and saw Maureen. We said hello, and she took the framed photograph from me and studied it.

"It's beautiful", she said as she handed it back.

We chit chatted for a minute or two, and then she walked away.

I sat alone with my thoughts, thinking how strangely connected life was.

I knew I would probably never see Maureen again, yet it seemed to me that we were destined that day to pass each other on the train, really for no purpose other than to gain a glimpse of what might have been had I not listened to my heart.

Lovely music on a train platform :

The Sun is Still Sunny - Barry & Maureen

I was recently thinking about how the number 1111 appears more than others for me. This thought led me to thinking about the Mayan calendar and the end of the world prophecies. And when I start to contemplate about the end of the world, I think about the phone conversation I had back in 1994.

When I set out on my own in 1992 to live in Chicago, I only knew a handful of people in the city. Consequently I did not receive many phone calls.

This state of existence, living in the world as an unknown, appealed to me because it allowed me to spend my days in solitude and anonymity.

I also worked evenings in the historic Monadnock building on Jackson Street, so anyone trying to call me after 2:00pm would not get through because I did not have an answering machine. A friend of mine once called me at midnight because he got frustrated trying to call at a reasonable hour. He told me, "your parents gave me your number, and I have been trying to get a hold of you for the past two months."




One afternoon before I left for work I got a call from Barry.

I first met Barry on my dorm floor in college. There were few people on the floor whom I talked to, but Barry was one of them. I avoided all people who struck me as being normal, because if they were normal, they would most likely expect me to do normal things with them - talk about television shows and sports teams, see movies, go to parties, drink beer.

I will admit I liked to drink when I was in college, but I made sure I was alone, the room was dark, and Mahler was playing on the stereo.

I surprisingly did have some friends in college. Each of them had an interest which I could not find in the suburbs - Christian fanatic; manic depressive who obsessed about getting laid; painter; philosopher; political radical; atheist/vegetarian/peacenik; Zen Buddhist.

Barry was the Christian fanatic.

"Hey Barry, it's been a while..... How's it going? ....... Oh, well, I'm planning a trip to Paris in 6 months..... what do you mean I'm not going to make it?.....what do you mean the world is going to end?.....when? ...... September, 1994?........ you even know the exact day?....... shit.........

So Barry had decided that he was a modern day prophet, and believed in the predictions of Harold Camping. He informed me that he had quit his sales job, sold his car, and had just returned from a 3 week stay in Poland where he walked the streets warning the Poles that the end of the world was imminent.

I asked him what he was going to do if the world didn't end in September, 1994. He told me not to worry about him, because there was no doubt it was going to end at that time.

I was worried about Barry. Sure, he had always been a bible fanatic, but now he believed he was the reincarnation of a biblical prophet.

I started reading the bible after my girlfriend left me a few years earlier, so I knew how to engage Barry in religious conversation. We set a time to meet, and I looked forward to seeing him.

He drove down to Chicago and we met at an uptown Mexican restaurant. The meal was unmemorable, but I remember him telling me that the burritos were microwaved. I wanted to ask him how he knew that, but decided against it.

After our meal we studied a Reader to find something to do later in the evening. There was a folk singer named Maureen playing at a nearby coffeehouse. We decided to check it out.

The coffeehouse had an upstairs area reserved for performances, so we walked up a flight of stairs and found that we were the only ones there. We sat down on the folding chairs and talked about God, girls, and the end of the world.

A couple of other people joined us, and then Maureen appeared on the stage, an attractive woman in her late 20's or early 30's. She had a pleasant voice and her guitar had a sweet, clear sound. I listened intently to her songs, and realized they were beautiful, but sometimes they crossed into sentimentality.

How is it that the beauty of the world can be ignored, while trash is usually popular? I wasn't going to complain, though, if everyone realized how much beauty could be found in a field or woods, it would soon be ruined by real estate developers and people hawking trinkets. The sublime is surrounded by miles of silence, and then, a single pair of eyes appear.

When the show ended we clapped and stood to leave. Before I knew what was happening Barry had walked over to Maureen and started talking to her. I followed and stood close by so that I could hear the conversation.

She seemed to be a very easy going lady, and as the 3 of us walked down the stairs to the street, I casually mentioned that I liked to play the guitar.

As we stood on the sidewalk, the cool spring air making me feel a bit intoxicated, we decided that the 3 of us should go out to dinner. I laughed to myself, because if I had been alone there was no way I would have approached Maureen, but now, here we were, going out to dinner with a folk singer.

I can't remember all the things we talked about, but I do know that it was easy to talk and feel comfortable. When the evening finally ended, I left Barry and my new singing friend, clutching her business card in my left hand.

The next week Maureen and I met up in the city. We had dinner together, and then she invited me back to her apartment.

She lived in Rogers Park, which is on the far north side of the city, where rents are cheap and its easy to get mugged if walking the streets too late at night.

Her apartment was spacious, a bit cluttered, and she had a cat. The litter box was in view, off to the side in the living room. I sat down on the sofa, feeling relaxed.

We talked a bit, and she told me that the night of her performance she could feel how intensely I listened, and that she imagined she was playing just for me.

This surprised me. It was true there were only 4 or 5 in the audience, but why did she single me out as the lone member to play for? It made me feel a bit special, but also made me realize that sometimes things which seem to be invisible, in this case, listening, can be seen just as clearly as a color or a sunset.

When it seemed the night had gotten too late, I got up to leave.

As I was putting my jacket on Maureen asked if I wanted to take a shower with her. I wish I could have seen the expression on my face, I must have looked pretty silly, because I did not respond. I stood there with my jacket on, and then sat back down on the sofa.

I thought about the question for what seemed a long time, but in reality it must have been 30 seconds.

I enjoyed getting laid just as much as the next guy, and I knew that I didn't get laid enough. But something here in the room struck me as being wrong.

Perhaps it was how cluttered the apartment was, and having the litter box in plain sight somehow made me feel squeamish. But I knew that I did not know Maureen well enough to just jump in the shower with her. Maybe in another circumstance I would willingly sleep with a stranger, but this instance struck me as somehow being dangerous, and therefore my heart recoiled, instead of jumping with glee.

"I don't think that would be a good idea", I finally managed to say.

She seemed a bit surprised at my refusal, but did not seem bothered by it.

"Well, it's late, you can at least stay and sleep on the couch. Don't worry, I won't touch you", she said jokingly.

to be continued......

~ ~ ~

Worked on this picture after writing the above :

In Memory of Barry & Maureen

The sweet melancholy of Dean & Britta :

Graveyard Train

"It is said that one will not be able to do great works if he does not behave with some reserve towards his master, the chief retainers and elders. What is done casually and freely will not work out well. It is a matter of attitude."
From Hagakure

The Yellow Door

In a dream, I open the door, and find :

Elektrobank

"If your strength is only that which comes from vitality, your words and personal conduct will appear to be in accord with the Way, and you will be praised by others. But when you question yourself about this, there will be nothing to be said. The last line of the poem that goes 'When your own heart asks,' is the secret principle of all the arts. It is said that it is a good censor."
From Hagakure

Because I did not burn enough energy yesterday I woke today at 4:00am and went to work early.

There was a park district staff meeting at 2:45 pm, so I had to delay my run until 1:30. I just ran a couple of easy miles and did my usual set of strength exercises.

Getting up early caught up to me at the meeting, my eyes kept closing and I tried to keep from dozing.

After the meeting I ran 1 more mile back to town and walked the rest of the way home.

Later in the day I worked on another picture. I'm not sure why I have included seductive females in the last 2 pictures, but I am just going with the flow of the process. Sometimes things work, other times not.....

Adult II

Heard this today during my run, and I happily remembered it was this song which energized me at Farmdale during mile 27 :