Tag Archives: Lake Michigan

Runners are crazy

I’ve always suspected that marathon runners are masochists.

When I run the Chicago Marathon on 10.10.10, I guess I’ll find out if that’s true.

I’ve become a runner. I’m not sure if I have the right to even say that yet. Similar to how my preggers friend Megan says she feels when around mothers, I feel like a fraud when around runners. Like a rookie waiting for an official membership card to the runner’s club.

I've been cheating on this blog with these kicks.

If you’ve been to Lincoln Park on a Saturday, you probably already know this—there’s a whole running subculture in Chicago. I know lots of people who run, but I didn’t realize that there are hordes of people who wake up at the crack of dawn every Saturday morning to run along Lake Michigan. As my running partner/co-worker Elaine pointed out, “So, this is what people have been doing while I was sleeping late on Saturday.” Who knew?

Runners are an interesting, crazy group of people. I can say this because I am a “runner” now. It’s a sporty network where people share stories of running injuries, tips on the right shoes and clothes and wishes for improving their time. They know about things called Body Glide (no, it’s not inappropriate…surprisingly). These are people who run in running groups, pace groups and have coaches. And the funny thing is, I always thought running was a solitary sport.

I’ve been running regularly for a few months now, but I officially started marathon training two weeks ago. I think I’m starting to get why people love running. It has to do with pushing yourself to your physical limits and working toward a goal. I don’t love the act of running, but I’m hooked on that feeling you get right after you finish a run. A rush of endorphins and personal satisfaction. I can see how it makes people crazy enough to run a marathon.

Also, the views of the lake at 6:30 am are pretty stunning.



Filed under Chicago, city life, hobbies

Rent: A new musical comedy

I’ve been working on this post for weeks. It was most recently entitled “Love letter to my apartment.” I was almost ready to peel myself away from Mad Men season 2 to finish it. Then this happened:

Calamity in the kitchen.

Calamity in the kitchen.

Sigh. I’ll try not to let my emotions finish writing this post.

It’s comedic. Yet ironic. So I’m washing a few dishes. I let the water drain from the sink and feel splashing on my bare feet. Ick. I open the cabinet to see a puddle, and luckily, a mound of wet old rags already soaking it up. I pick up the brand new, extra large bag of cat food, and in typical slapstick-movie fashion, the whole bottom falls out. Cats run to devour the mountain of food. I start pulling hair out. And scene.

I’m no stranger to renting calamity. Flashback to my old apartment in Lakeview. I’m blow drying my hair in the bathroom and am suddenly startled by a thunderous sound and Joe screaming like a girl. From the sounds of it, I thought this movie would feature a scene with a fleet of rogue pirates attacking my apartment from Lake Michigan. Nope. Cut to this:

Yeah so the closet fell...

Yeah so the closet fell...

And in my defense, it was Joe's stuff too.

...and in my defense, it was Joe's and my stuff.

And cut to me taking several boxes of clothes to Goodwill.

If I were truly writing a comedy about my apartment adventures, I’d purposely leave out the scene of my very own tiny apartment in Bloomington, Indiana. I was convinced the black residue growing up its tiny walls was mold. I freaked out, threw several items away and persuaded my landlord to take care of it. The “mold” was actually candle smoke residue on the wall. Oh, being young and naive is funny, right? My landlord reimbursed me for some of the discarded items items. Looks like I got the last laugh.

I do want a condo to call my very own. But until that glorious day arrives, I’ll continue to call my landlord to fix any comedic situation that comes my way.

Even though my apartment’s tiny size makes me want to exchange it for a five-bedroom home in Hammond, Indiana, some days (which, btw, would probably cost the same), I love it. Its Cracker Jack box size is just perfect for Joe, me and our kitties. Just don’t be offended if our foyer or “study” is your guest room when you visit. They was satisfactory enough for my siblings Tricia and Drew when they recently visited:

Enjoy your stay at the Davis Hotel.

Enjoy your stay at the lovely Davis Hotel.

I hear the accomodations are "cozy" and "quaint."

I hear the accommodations are "cozy" and "quaint."

I don’t mean to complain. I do love my apartment. I love its location. A lot. And I loved the exposed brick, natural lighting, the color of the walls my dear friend Andrea and I spent a weekend painting. And most of all this:

This doesn't even do the view justice. The skyline is so much closer in purpose.

This doesn't even do the view justice. The skyline is so much closer and divine in person.

The view is mostly why we can’t move in October. That, and I finally got my license changed with the right address. There’s no way I’m going back to the DMV. Until then, let the hilarious times roll.


Filed under city life, neighborhoods, urban