chicago

_ 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.