This past weekend was the world’s largest triathlon, so come 4am, I was at Monroe Harbor “body-painting” — taking permanent markers to strangers’ arms and calves to write on them their registrant and wave numbers.  Apparently it’s no longer necessary to do this, but many tri event organizers still do out of respect for the tradition.  (Think of the marathon’s pre-race pasta binge fest: you don’t have to eat boat-loads pasta in advance of a long run or your big race, yet tradition always seems to win out.  I guess eating rice or potatoes just smacks of disrespect).

Post-body-marking fun, I was shufflin’ along on what was meant to be a 13-miler that had eluded me on Saturday a.m., since I had committed a classic novice ill and chugged a bit too much Gatorade immediately before I began running: my GI system didn’t appreciate that, at all. Anyway, Chicago had unbelievably cool August weather on Sunday, so it made for a very relaxed, refreshing long run.  And to boot, I ran on the lakefront’s south side, from Roosevelt to La Rabida and back.  Apparently my math faculties failed me, for my planned 13-mile trek morphed into 15 miles, and I wasn’t the wiser.  [It wasn’t until nearly 20 minutes after I finished my run, when I couldn’t figure out why my time made my 13-mile run seem so slow, that I realized that my math was off.]  Reason #1001 why running buddies are a good idea…

All told, an enjoyable Sunday stroll.