_ early in the morning, we drove in to chicago from our hotel by the airport.
_ the streets were still quiet, but already preparations were being made: barricades erected, police in place.
_ and then our first glimpses of the runners, streaming from the subway stations toward grant park.
_ almost 20,000 people ran the chicago rock and roll half.
_ we lined up, and looked up at the skyline, and waited for the gun.
_ we ran with the first wave...
_ and quickly realized that running & shooting don't go all that well together.
_ so you'll have to excuse these shots!
_ we strode through the glare of the rising sun beneath the underpasses...
_ ...and burst out into downtown chicago.
_ as the sun poked out over the skyscrapers and the course turned onto the lake-front, the heat rose exponentially. water stops became central to a good running strategy, and we started to alternate water with electrolytes.
_ ...and powered on.
_ groups of local high school cheer squads lined the course, shouting us on, and throwing the occasional gatorade our way.
_ a few miles from downtown, the landscape lengthened out. it became more spare, less distracting. runners were left alone with their individual battles of physical will.
_ at the southern-most point, we switched back, passing beneath an encouraging symbol of rock and roll's potency.
_ and, motivated by the skyscrapers on the horizon, we rushed to meet them.
_ the finish line in sight...
_ ...and then the greatest thing ever: the guilt-free stop.
_ we turned back to watch the other runners come in, and saw a good spread of emotions. a last, powerful push, for example, and its accompanying rictus.
_ or what appears to be disbelief at having run so far and so fast.
_ in the last mile, knowing it's the last mile, exhaustion typically gives out. it exhausts itself, and is replaced with a light-headed 'presentness': effort without physical effect. thought goes numb, it's just breath and a vague sense of movement.
_ and then you cross the finish line and it's like 'ah jesus what the hell!'
_ distrusting the race-clock, many people checked their watches before they even stopped running.
_ while others let their power song run out.
_ this girl was in a world of her own...
_ ...happy to be done, perhaps, amply satisfied.
_while others looked a little pissed off, wondering why there were so many people crowding their sunday-morning run.
_ many raised their arms as they crossed the line. for themselves, for the pictures, it wasn't clear.
_ and some just pushed themselves even harder...
_ ...who cares who's looking.
_ a clock-watcher, one foot past the line.
_ by this point the sky was slightly overcast, the heat hazy and the humidity up. it wasn't great running weather anymore...
_ ...and, as such, some people were more than happy to be done.
_ while others relished the moment.
_ running, in the late miles of a race, when the aforementioned numb-mind sets in, has a curious effect on the facial muscles.
_ ...and in the seconds following that guilt-free stop, when you return to yourself, who knows what they'll do.
_ it's an interesting mirror, and to see yourself like this is to see yourself in a rare light.
_ people kept on coming, ten a second, crossing the finish line.
_ experiencing their finish in their own profound and personal ways.
_ no matter how conditioned they were as runners, the aim in a race like this is to push your limit.
_ so when they crossed that line, the exceptional runner fell away, and the day-to-day person, the subway strap-hanger, the girlfriend, the stocker-of-shelves, the commercial producer, stepped back into place: more often than not, agonized.
_ but of course, this was a fantastic moment.
_ so unequivocal an accomplishment...
_ that even babies can tell.
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