Category: Running Log

june 23/RUN

4 miles
monument and back
65 degrees

Hot! Bright sun. Some shade. I watched my shadow beside and below me as I ran the stretch of the east river trail between the lake street bridge and shadow falls. Heard a coxswain, then 20 minutes later saw the white boat on the river. I think I saw some rowers, too, but it might have just been waves.

I did 90/30, which should have felt easy, but didn’t. But it kept my pace and heart rate a little lower. Wore my Brooks Ghosts and some new socks — size: youth. I like this size — not too tight or too loose. My feet felt okay until the last mile when the widest part, below the big toe, started to rub, then slightly ache. No Brooks for my long run, either tomorrow or Thursday. 10 miles this week.

Listened to the cars and the kids and the sound of my feet striking the ground for the first half, then Olivia Rodrigo’s new album, you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love, for the second part. I like it; it’s fun to run to. As I walked back, I listened to her song, “Purple” — I better add that to my color playlist!

10 Things

  1. the sandbar, under the lake street bridge, was just beneath the surface of the river
  2. little kids being dropped off at the church daycare — as I ran by, I heard the bell for them to go inside and start the day
  3. cars backed up on the bridge due to a red light far up the hill
  4. voices in the ravine, near shadow falls
  5. the bottom of the water fountain at the monument was flowing continuously — had someone left something on? was the button stuck? no, I think it’s designed to do that for draining and dogs
  6. only one open spot at the monument parking lot
  7. workers were doing something under the lake street/marshall bridge — it didn’t impact pedestrians or the walking trail, but the road up the hill was closed
  8. a line of bikers on the trail — about 8 silver riders in bright yellow vests
  9. running by a house — a flash of red, then a small bird landed on a railing — mostly it had no color for my bad eyes, but a few times I could see that it was red
  10. the slide-y (but not slippery) feel of my feet striking the soft sandy grit on the desire path next to the paved trail

note: It is 2:44 pm and thunderstorms are predicted, starting at 4. Open swim is set to begin at 5:30. Will it happen? Future Sara, let us know! . . . Future Sara here: cancelled at 4 pm, amidst a steady rain with occasional thunder.

weeds / entanglement

Remembering this hours after my run: near the end of the walk home, I thought about nets and being entangled. Why? Just remembered! It was the lines in Olivia Rodrigo’s “Purple” in which she sings about unraveling. Wait — not “Purple” but “The Cure”:

Refrain]
But I’m unraveled (I’m unraveled)
I’m unraveled (I’m unraveled)
I’m unraveled (I’m unraveled)
I’m unraveled (I’m unraveled)

[Chorus]
And my head is full of poison, and my heart is full of doubt
I got toxins in my bloodstream, you tried hard to suck ’em out
And it feels like medication, and it’s good for me, I’m sure
But it don’t matter how your love feels anymore
It will never be the cure

I thought about unraveling is the unwanted thing here; she’s falling apart. But, unraveling can be desired; I’d like for the thick knots and tangles of milfoil to unravel in the swimming area at lake nokomis. This lead me to think about nets and how they can trap us or keep us safe. And knots — in hair, of stomach anxiety, with thread, they’re bad, but on anchors, on the ends of drawstrings, for keeping shoes tied tightly as you run, they’re good.

Knot is a tangle, a problem that needs
unraveling. Not is the thing that isn’t / doesn’t /wouldn’t. Knot a securing, a way of holding on.

Knot Work / Not Work / Knot Hole / Not Whole

When I looked up the lyrics of “The Cure,” I discovered that Rodrigo is calling her tour the Unraveled Tour and has a very cool video for the song, which involves some visually freaky and cool unraveling:

Midway through the video Rodrigo begins unraveling as red threads emerge from her outstretched fingers. More and more red appears.

screenshot from “The Cure” by Olivia Rodrigo / red thread emerges from an outstretched hand

And here’s another knot poem that I posted on this log years ago. It’s a favorite of mine:

Epistemology / Catherine Barnett

Mostly I’d like to feel a little less, know a little more.
Knots are on the top of my list of what I want to know.
Who was it who taught me to burn the end of the cord
to keep it from fraying?
Not the man who called my life a debacle,
a word whose sound I love.
In a debacle things are unleashed.
Roots of words are like knots I think when I read the dictionary.
I read other books, sure. Recently I learned how trees communicate,
the way they send sugar through their roots to the trees that are ailing.
They don’t use words, but they can be said to love.
They might lean in one direction to leave a little extra light for another tree.
And I admire the way they grow right through fences, nothing
stops them, it’s called inosculation: to unite by openings, to connect
or join so as to become or make continuous, from osculare,
to provide with a mouth, from osculum, little mouth.
Sometimes when I’m alone I go outside with my big little mouth
and speak to the trees as if I were a birch among birches.

Her discussion of trees talking to each other and growing through fences returns me to the Knot Work / Not Work poem. Here’s what Jishin No-ben (Lee Ann Roripaugh, trans.) writes about tree knots and burls:

from Knot Work / Not Work / Knot Hole / Not Whole: a Mapping

2.
Formed in trunks where branches used to be,
or where the trunk’s growth has choked off
the smaller, lower branches in a tree. Each knot
the mark of a tightening tourniquet surrounding
a phantom limb. Each knot a scar, a toughening
over to cauterize loss, seal the body shut so it doesn’t
bleed out in the snow. In a concentration camp
in Minidoka, Idaho, wood artist George Nakashima
learned to burnish the souls of trees through their scars:
their knots, their holes, their cracks, their broken histories.

. . .

4.
Burl’s the wood formed when a tree is sick
or stressed, causing the grain to arabesque
into strange spirals, distorted forms, eye-spotted
with visible knots. Burl erupts when infestations
of insects or mold spread unchecked beneath bark’s
façade, the burl becoming larger, more ornate,
as the tree continues to grow. They sound like tumors,
or eyesores, but burl’s actually expensive and rare.
A tree can’t survive without its burl. When burl
is cut from a tree while it’s still alive, the tree dies.

I’d like to use these descriptions of tree biology as an inspiration for my discussion of milfoil biology — about how milfoil spreads and chokes out the light and starves fish and ensnares swimmers’ arms.

june 22/SWIM

3 loops (6 cedar loops)
cedar lake open swim
77 degrees

Summer! A beautiful night for a swim. Hardly any wind, warm sun. There were lots of swimmers with yellow and pink buoys. Someone was playing dance music over at Hidden Beach. As I rounded the far buoy during loops 5 and 6, I did several breaststrokes so I could listen. A few very long milfoil vines stretched up from the bottom, which is much deeper than lake nokomis.

I recited some of my favorite lines about swimming from Alice Oswald’s Dart. He dives, he shuts himself in the deep soft-bottom silence — I forgot to recite the next line, which underwater is all nectarine, nacreous — and jumped ahead to, he lifts the lid and shuts and lifts the lid and shuts and the sky jumps in and out of the world he loafs in. I couldn’t quite remember how the next line started, but now I do: Far off and orange in the glow of it he drifts. Love those lines!

10 Things

  1. a swimmer wades in the shallow water near the buoy waitint — to warm up? to get the courage to swim across? to take in the beauty of an early evening?
  2. bubble friends! more of them, below me
  3. a tapping on my toe as I rounded the far buoy — was it another swimmer? a fish? something else? who knows
  4. music, laughter, lots of chatter at hidden beach
  5. all I could sight on the way out was the red kayak of the lifeguard
  6. all I could sight on the way back was the break in the trees
  7. a few spots of glimmering surface
  8. the orange buoy at hidden beach was rarely there and when it was, it was only an orange dot, or the idea of an orange dot
  9. the orange buoy at point beach was muted and covered in shadow — I never saw it from far away, only when I was pretty close to it
  10. strange undercurrents in the water — something disturbing the water — sometimes it was another swimmer, sometimes it wasn’t

A great swim. I did one more loop than I did last time and never really stopped — other than the brief seconds when I readjusted my nose plug. In the later loops, my feet felt a little strange. Were they about to cramp? I paused and treaded water as I assessed them.

Found this in my entry from 2025 on 22 june — the return of my “On This Day” practice!:

Saturday 6:30 a.m. Swimming.

Red water plants waver up from the bottom in an attitude of plumes. How slow is the slow trance of wisdom, which the swimmer swims into.

“An Essay on Swimming” / Anne Carson

Thinking about the Eurasian Watermilfoil (milfoil) at Lake Nokomis, It does not waver in an attitude of plumes. It is a thick thatch, choking out the light, wrapping itself around arms, legs, shoulders.

Thinking more about the Eurasian milfoil, I recalled looking it up and posting some information about it a few years ago. I searched, and found it: 5 july 2024

aquatic plant management

“A few days ago, I looked up information about the vegetation/vines that I swim above in lake nokomis. I looked them up a few years ago, and recall learning that they were milfoil, but this summer I started doubting that I was remembering the name right. I was! There are two types of watermilfoil: 

Eurasian watermilfoil : invasive, choking out native plants
Northern watermilfoil: native, food for the fish

On the Minneapolis Parks’ site, they describe aquatic plant management, which was fascinating. The most effective way to control Eurasian watermilfoil is to harvest it, either with a mechanical harvester or by scuba divers (!). The mechanical harvester, which from what my bad eyes can see is a boat with a big spinning blade

removes plants that are in the top four to six feet of water. The harvested plant material is removed from the water and stored until the end of summer when it is brought to the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum to be used as organic fill for their operations. 

Aquatic Plant Management

The scuba divers, who only do this on Wirth Lake and Lake Nokomis, hand-pull the watermilfoil in areas that are inaccessible for the mechanical harvester. I wonder what areas are inaccessible and if I’ve ever witnessed the scuba pulling and not realized it. Very cool!”

Looking through the page today (2026), I noticed that they have a harvesting map for 2026. I also read on the aquatics plant management site that harvesting happens (roughly) from memorial day – aug 31st. I decided to send Minneapolis Parks a message and ask if and when they were planning to harvest the milfoil this summer. Hopefully they will answer, and hopefully it’s soon!

In the meantime: I will avoid that area! And maybe, I’ll try thinking about entanglements and knots and being tethered in ways that restrict, bind, limit. Or, I’ll think about weeds and invasive species and lake vegetation and how and why it overtakes lakes.

a note from Sara-this-second and Sara-since-Saturday and Summer Sara for Sara-sooner-or-later Listen lady, we are taking a break from reading and holes and Alice in Wonderland. We want to be immersed in water — waterlogged and water-logging! Come back in the fall!1

  1. I want to finish my May monthly challenge summary this afternoon and then shift into re-reading my favorite swimming/water poems and working on my waterlog project and returning to Alice Oswald and Anne Carson. ↩︎

june 21/RUNSWIM

run: 2.3 miles
lake nokomis
64 degrees

Decided to run a loop around lake nokomis before open swim in order to be warmed up when I entered the cold water. The run was hard. It felt warm and my gait felt awkward. My favorite part about the run was nearing the big beach and hearing, then seeing, swimmers rounding the far green buoy. I thought: that will be me in a few minutes! And it was.

Overheard: a group of 7 or 8 runners, one of them calling out to the others: They didn’t give us any room. I guess they thought it was their path. Yep, I’ve thought, and probably said, that same thing to Scott on some run around this lake.

I was just reminded of this when I heard the bells of St. Thomas as I write this at my dining room table: When we arrived at the lake, I heard some bells chiming in the distance. I’m assuming a church service was starting somewhere — maybe at the church on Cedar, near Fat Lorenzos?

swim: 2 loops
lake nokomis open swim
67 degrees

It felt warmer today, maybe because it was sunny. I noticed pink and yellow and orange safety buoys tethered to torsos, bent elbows, glittering water, a few splashes. Some swimmers wore wet suits, some wore training suits. I don’t think I noticed any swan boats or non-lifeguard kayaks.

I’m not sure I felt strong, but I felt stronger in the lake than last week. I decided as I stroked 1 2 3 4 5 breathe right 1 2 3 4 5 breathe left that June is always a more challenging month for open swim: the water’s colder and I’m using muscles that I haven’t used for 9 months.

The milfoil in the swimming area and near the start of the loop was terrible. Thick stretches of it, with individuals vines wrapping around my wrists and feet. I managed to avoid the worst of it on the way out, but when I returned I got stuck in a wide patch of it that I struggled to swim out of. As I have said to more than one person, I am a very strong, experienced swimmer and, even so, I had a few flashes of panic as I wondered how to get out and around these vines. I am seriously concerned that someone will drown in them. They are in the swimming area.

I wonder, is there anything Minneapolis Parks can do about this? Also, if enough people complain, will they have to close down the beach? I don’t want that, but I also don’t want someone to drown in this water or these vines to not be addressed. Sigh.

I’m glad that I ran and that I was able to swim 2 loops in slightly warmer water. Unfortunately, it didn’t help my mood. A few days ago, I wondered what was worse: perimenopausal anxiety or perimenopausal irritability. I thought anxiety was worse, but today, I am irritated and upset and I think it’s just as bad as anxiety. Oh well, like a wave, it will pass over.

Speaking of passing over, I noticed the dark shadow of a plane, blocking out the sun for a few seconds. Even though I know what it is, it is strange and settling (and kind of cool) when it happens.

10 Things

  1. bubbles — surrounding my hands as they entered the water
  2. clouds
  3. breathing to one side: blue sky
  4. breathing to the other side: clouds
  5. stopping in the middle of the lake: silence, solitude
  6. the bright orange first buoy, sometimes looking orange, sometimes white, once or twice green, a few times not there
  7. swimmers: 3 across, a good space between us, all heading towards the far green buoy at the different angles
  8. overheard before beginning: Theo, get your shoes! It’s time to go!
  9. exiting the water, watching as a toddler in a polka dot bathing suit ran across the sand and towards the swings
  10. chanting to myself, lifts the lid and shuts1
  1. I need to re-memorize the A Oswald lines so that I can recite them properly! ↩︎

june 20/RUN

6 miles
hidden falls loop
61 degrees
humidity: 77%

The sun and the humid air made it feel warmer than 61. If only it could feel like this tomorrow during open swim — warm, that is. A quiet, calm morning. Not too crowded on the trails or the roads. Lots of dappled light, flickering leaves. The only time I remember looking at the water was when I had just started crossing the ford bridge. I could see the dark reflections of the fir trees on the water.

I wore my bright yellow shoes. Today, they didn’t feel so bad. Before I went out for my run, I studied the bottom of my shoes. The Brooks Ghosts are already starting to wear down near the big toe, but the Saucony Cohesions and Rides are not. So, do the Ghosts change where I strike my foot, or are they just thinner at that spot? One day I’ll get my stride evaluated by someone at Mill City Running or another local running store.

I did some variations on the Galloway method (90 sec run/30 sec walk). I started with 15 minutes of running, then 90/30 for some time, then 3 min/1 min. Next time I need to commit to just running 90/30 the entire time and see what happens.

Right as I began running, I looked far ahead at the small circle of light at the end of a tunnel of sidewalk and trees. I thought about Alice and her view as she first falls down the hole:

down
and down

Watching this again, I remembered the light from above being brighter. Oh well, I still like it as inspiration for my hole series. Does it work for blur (see below)?

A few times, I recited “We Grow Accustomed to the Dark” by Emily Dickinson as I ran. Not sure I ever made it all the way through; I was distracted by the sound of a skateboard or the flash of a leaf or the feeling of sweat dripping down my face.

As I ran by the empty benches near the Ford/Power Plant overlook, I imagined biking here on some other day and sitting and reading a book, or writing or poem, or taking in the world around me.

10 Things

  1. loud music — dance? techno? — booming from a bike speaker
  2. a sprinkling, tinkling sound — was it falling water or rustling leaves?
  3. a few puddles from yesterday’s rain
  4. soft, wet dirt on the trail between the river road and lena smith boulevard
  5. the flickering shadow of one leaf being moved by the wind
  6. 2 older men talking, sitting at a picnic table near the skate park in Highland Park
  7. a woman running with a stroller, crossing near hidden falls — did she or the kid she was pushing make any noise? I don’t think so
  8. hot sun, then refreshing shade, at Highland Bridge
  9. passing a woman talking on a phone: then, what is it?
  10. 2 women walking — one, to the other: I haven’t perfected my pizza yet

holes and Alice

As I (finally) worked on my summary for April’s monthly challenge, I was inspired to return to the holes project. I want to keep experimenting with the Alice in Wonderland angle and the rabbit hole. What inspiration can I get from some of the scenes in Alice in Wonderland (1951)? So far, I have 3 scenes in particular: Alice falling down the hole1, Alice talking with the Caterpillar, and Alice and the Cheshire Cat.

Just now, I re-watched the Cheshire Cat scene and I’m thinking of pairing it with parts of hole 3: “land in a logic of blur and almost” and “read sentences sliced in half, glitching just enough to scramble what is real and imagined.” At the beginning of the scene, the cat is only a voice singing nonsense words, then a mouth, then eyes. Later, he is only footprints and stripes. How to represent that on the page? And, is that more almost than blur? Should the line be, “land in a logic of almost’?

Another part of this new approach is to simplify the image so that it is easier to understand as form/silhouette. I’m thinking of putting it on a single page — the page in which the word “hole” appears in the NYer essay — instead of the 4 panels. I’m hoping that will translate more effectively online (and on smaller screens).

Back to hole 3: what if I made the blur and almost as two different scenes/pages — one is blur, one almost. “Almost” would be the cat, and “Blur” would be –? I’ll keep thinking about that one. Blur = soft and fuzzy forms, before we grow accustomed to the Dark, right after the light has gone out, or grown too dim? Maybe, the image of a small hole of light, with everything else growing darker?

is water alive?

I was looking for something else (search on poets.com = “blur”) and found a wonderful essay about a poem, “on the water” and its dis/connection to ecopoetics. The author of the essay and the poem, Moheb Soliman, says this about water:

It’s a sacred hook—an existentially common denominator—the basis of everything, to build on together. You understand, but you’re deeply ambivalent about the abstraction of water. Water like a banner quivering in place, placeless. You fear placelessness. It’s why you are addicted to Google Maps. Isn’t everybody? Totalizing specificity, proper naming, sublime order, knowable space.

Yet, like many, you try and reject colonial hegemony. You can’t help but revere Indigeneity. But water flows one way at divides—you’re either duped by western science water as inanimate substance, or you’re co-opting animist beliefs about water. You don’t think of water as alive, nor of it as just a resource. Is there no other way?

Moheb Soliman on “on the water”

The line, You don’t think of water as alive reminded me that I have Is a River Alive? on my Libby audiobook shelf. TIme to start listening/reading, I think!

Perhaps a question to pursue this summer: (how) is a lake alive?

  1. Writing this, I was thinking about the moment before she/we grows accustomed to the Dark and can only see the whites of her eyes, but now I’m also thinking about the moment before that when we see her from the perspective of her cat Dinah as she call out, with delight, Goodbye Dinah! Goodbyyyyyyyeeee! How could I imagine that on a page? ↩︎

june 19/SWIM

3 loops / 1733 strokes
lake nokomis open swim
65 degrees / drizzle
water temp: < 70 degrees

Cold water! I might need to wear my wetsuit for the next swim. I can handle feeling cold at the beginning; it’s the deep cold that I feel in my hands and feet after an hour of swimming that I don’t like. Is it that I have poor circulation? Whatever it is, my right middle finger was starting to go number halfway in. I didn’t want to stop swimming, so I kept wriggling it mid-stroke and trying to punch the water extra hard with that hand. I wonder if it would help if I ran a mile or 2 as a warm-up before the swim?

Cold water aside, it was a great swim. A little drizzle, overcast. Not too many people or boats. Only a few swan boats and one paddle boarder.

I decided to try swimming through the milfoil again at the start. It was still there, but not too bad. The trick: don’t try to swim freestyle through it; don’t try to swim at all. Just glide over it with the occasional breaststroke kick.

I saw a few silver flashes under me near the first orange buoy and one small dead fish, belly-up near the beach. No minnows, but a few bubbles and my sparkle friends — sediment particles coming at me as I swam towards the big beach.

I followed a swimmer — I think it was a woman, but why do I think that? Did I see something other than their orange buoy for a second? — for at least 2 of the loops. I wasn’t trying to follow them — I didn’t want to follow them — but we were going almost the same speed and taking the same trajectory from buoy to buoy. In addition to their orange buoy, I noticed some pink and yellow safety buoys, too. Also noticed at least two people swimming the wrong direction. You are supposed to always keep the buoys to your right, but they had them to their left.

There weren’t any waves, but sometimes the water was choppy, and sometimes it felt like it was being sucked from under me, which makes it harder to feel any power or control in your stroke. Swimming back to the big beach, I often had to breathe every 2 or 4 — always breathing to my right, because the water was high on the left side.

Right before I left for the swim, I reread one of Alice Oswald’s description of swimming in Dart. So good!

Here’s what I read:

Then I jumped in a rush of gold to the head,
through black and cold, red and cold, brown and warm,
giving water the weight and size of myself in order to imagine it,
water with my bones, water with my mouth and my understanding
where my body was in some way a wave to swim in,
one continuous fin from head to tail
I steered through rapids like a canoe,
digging my hands in keeping just ahead of the pace of the river

—

He dives, he shuts himself in a deep soft-bottomed silence
which underwater is all nectarine, nacreous. He lifts
the lid and shuts and lifts and shuts and the sky
jumps in and out of the world he loafs in.
Far off and orange in the glow of it he drifts

What I remembered (but slightly wrong) was this:

open the lid and shut, open the lid and shut

I recited it for a few minutes as I punched through the chop, lifting my head to breathe, then dropping it again to avoid a face full of water.

I heard then saw some military planes taking off. The water was blue-ish gray, the visibility low. At one point, I had a moment of panic when I was so used to the safety buoy belt around my waist that it felt like it wasn’t there. Oh no, did I lose my phone? Nope. I checked and it was still there.

It was a good swim. Again, I swam straight to the buoys even when I didn’t think they were there. I had the occasional flash of panic when I suddenly though, what if I got a cramp or felt faint here, in the middle of the lake?, but those flashes didn’t last long.

june 18/RUNSWIM

9.15 miles
lake nokomis and back
57 degrees / humidity: 87%

My longest run in more than a year. It is humbling to feel like 9 miles was the most I could do (at least today) when I ran a marathon just 2 years ago. Of course, thanks to perimenopausal anxiety, I have flashes of worrying that it’s not being out of shape but something physically wrong with me. A few days ago, Scott and I had a discussion — which is worse: peri/menopausal anxiety or peri/menopausal irritability? I guess, being irritable is a drag for everyone around you, but it seems less draining than worrying that every small ache or pain means you might have a terminal illness. I am rarely irritated, but I am often anxious.

I ran the first mile without stopping, then moved into my 90 seconds of running, 30 seconds of walking. I like this method, although I was a little disappointed that my heart rate was still higher. Was it the humidity? Is that just how my heart rate works when I’m running? Is it a bigger concern — some heart problem? Or was it because I ran the first mile without stopping instead of doing the 90/30 from the beginning? I imagine it was mostly the humidity and doing a continuous first mile. At the halfway point, I experimented with the ratio: 3 min run/1 min walk and 2 min run/1 min walk.

assessment: I feel pretty good now, and I definitely had more energy at the end of the run. My feet hurt — not as much as they have in past runs, but the ball of both feet still ached at the end. Also: my ankles were a little sore, too.

Even though it was humid, and I wished I had worn my tank top instead of a short-sleeved shirt, I didn’t feel too hot. Lots of shade, a cool-ish breeze. I heard at least one woodpecker, laughing; the babbling creek; a dog losing its mind — bark bark bark bark — across the creek. I greeted several walkers and runners, stopped at the park bathroom right before reaching mile 8. I ran past some guy watching a pickleball match; counted several kayaks out on the water; encountered a biggish group of runners ahead of me — would I get tangled up with them? No, thankfully they stopped at the playground to do some exercises and to pair up. As I passed them, I could hear someone calling out, okay, now find someone with about your same pace.

For 8 of the miles, I listened to the world around me. Cars streaming past on the parkway; the hum of a hoverboard on the bike path; kids calling out to each other at the creek; and the thwack of the ball on the pickle ball court. For mile 9, I put in my “windows” playlist. The song I most remember was one I’m almost skipped, Pete Seeger’s “Fly through my window” — little bird little bird fly through my window

random bummer news: The Minneapolis Park Board voted to close the dog park and one of the most decorated American female mid-distance runners, Jenny Simpson, had a medical emergency while pacing a mile race on Monday night: her heart stopped and they gave her CPR for 20 minutes before it restarted. She’s in the hospital now, recovering. She is 39 and just retired from running a few years ago.

swim: 2 loops
lake nokomis open swim
70 degrees

Brrrrr. I’m not sure what the water temperature was, but it felt cold. Probably 70 degrees. The water was a bit choppy today and full of menacing swan boats and a few clueless kayaks. I couldn’t always tell if the kayak was a lifeguard moving across the course or some random kayaker not paying attention to the course — or maybe not realizing there was a course. I wouldn’t be surprised if no one told them what was going on.

I took RJP’s advice and started at the far edge of the beach, in line with the last green buoy, to avoid the tangles of milfoil at the other end of the beach. It helped a lot. The only milfoil I encountered was a few stray vines in the middle of the lake. One wrapped around my head and I had to fling it off, mid-stroke.

10 Things

  1. clear bubbles, made by my piercing hands
  2. a strange squeaking, rubbing noise as a swan boat neared
  3. often the orange buoys look white, the green ones too
  4. again, I swam straight to the buoys even when I couldn’t see them — only them when I was about 15 feet away from them
  5. the rope tethering the last green buoy to the lake bottom was at a sharp angle
  6. entering the water, I walked past 3 guys skipping rocks at the edge of the water
  7. a few silver flashes
  8. almost ran into another swimmer — I didn’t see them until they were right there
  9. sighting a green buoy, swimming towards it, seeing a sailboat near it and wondering if I had seen the buoy at all or just a boat — always, the buoy was there
  10. my first few steps in the water: brrrrr! very cold — I warmed up but felt very cold by the end, after sitting at Painted Turtle for a half an hour, my heels were numb

june 16/RUNSWIM

3.1 miles
2 trails
69 degrees

A sunny afternoon. Warmer than I thought it would be. Not an easy run, but I did it, and I got to travel on the winchell trail, which was shaded. Mostly the trail was in complete shade, but occasionally some sun came through. In a few spots it glowed so much that I wondered if it was white paint. Nope — I double-checked, just sun. I heard some kids above, then a person sitting on the 38th street steps having a disturbing conversation about someone being shot in the head. I hope they were talking about a movie or a tv show.

5 Run and 5 Swim Things

  1. the path was thick with bikers
  2. the road was crowded with cars
  3. the two benches that I recall noticing were occupied
  4. puddles on the trail from last night’s rain
  5. 2 kids on the dirt part of the winchell trail — the younger kid to the older one: do it! the older kid’s response: that’s mean!s
  6. several military jets flying above the lake
  7. water color: a pale blue-green
  8. little spirits at my feet! (minnows near the shore)
  9. a few friends: sediment and bubbles
  10. the water was so low — near the shore, it was far from the lifeguard stands and there was a little drop-off near the water

swim: 3 loops
lake nokomis open swim
70 degrees

A great swim! Again, I swam straight to the buoys without seeing them. And when I couldn’t see anything but water and trees and sky, I didn’t panic at all.

A few silver flashes below. 1 2 3 4 5 breathe right 1 2 3 4 5 breathe left. Sometimes, 1 2 3 4 breathe right 1 2 3 4 breathe right. Steady strokes. Sometimes I was sore, sometimes I was worried about my heart rate1, and all of time I was deeply grateful to be swimming in this lake with my strong shoulders and back.

Some dog updates

First, on Saturday, Delia the dog started limping and not putting any weight on her back left leg. On Monday the vet delivered the bad news: a torn ACL. Major bummer! Delia is in good spirits. In fact, she’s managed to figure out how to hop on that leg pretty effectively. It’s hard having to stop her. Currently we’re trying to decide between surgery or not. If she were a bigger dog, there would be no question: surgery. But, with smaller dogs, taking it easy and rehabbing might be enough. Surgery is expensive and traumatic, but so is not being able to run and jump and do much of anything for many months.

Second, it is seeming more likely that the off leash dog park will be closing by the end of 2026. It is on sacred Dakota land, I support the returning of this land (see this article for more info). At first, I was sad about losing it, but then Delia tore her ACL and we think it might have been at least partly due to an aggressive and unsupervised dog at the park. Many dog owners are great with their dogs at the park, but some use it as daycare, ignoring the rules of keeping your dog within sight. Even if the dog park stayed open, I don’t think we would taking Delia back there.

  1. last night at cedar lake, my average heart rate for the swim was 160, which was alarming. Usually it’s under 130. Combine that with my anxiety over any anomaly in my watch data, and I was a little worried. Checked my heart rate after I was done: 126. Phew. Back to normal. ↩︎

june 15/SWIM

2.76 degre5 loops (5 cedar loops)
cedar lake open swim
76 degrees

The first open swim at cedar lake. It was great. I swam for (almost) an hour. The water was cold, but not too choppy or fishy or full of vegetation. Only 2 or 3 big vines wrapped around my head or shoulder. My hands were cold by the fourth loop and my neck was sore.

10 Things

  1. big white clouds up above as I swam
  2. dark purple-ish clouds hovering as we drove away
  3. the vine that wrapped around my shoulders was scratchy and sharp, the one that wrapped around my head was not
  4. a new lifeguard — he was very enthusiastic and earnest about giving people information about open swim
  5. a small bird or a dragonfly zoomed in front of me once as I lifted my head
  6. successful sighting heading towards hidden beach — after a few years of trying, I think I’ve cracked the code!
  7. bright pink and yellow buoys
  8. bright green caps
  9. bubbles — made as my hand pierced the water
  10. clear enough to see my hand and my watch and the bottom right near shore but not much else

spider web

I’m stepping back from devoting all of my attention to the holes and lines and spiders and webs (at least I think I am), but I wanted to try out a web over one of my four panel found poems. So far, I’ve created a basic web over the unmarked text. Next, I might figure out how to mark the text and/or create a distorted (NASA drugged-out) web. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m slow in figuring out how to make things, but eventually I get there. Today I learned that for strength purposes, I should create the outer rings of the web first. Also learned that passing the thread over then under when looping makes it tighter. I think I’d like to study how the spider makes the orb web some more for ideas.

spider web / 15 june / hole 6

june 13/RUN

4 miles
up to wabun, down to lock and dam
60 degrees
wind: 14 mph

I was supposed to do open swim this morning, but it was 57 degrees and very windy and I decided that was too much for me this early in the season. Lots of wind = choppier water = more sighting = sore neck, So instead I watched Paul (steak sause not sexass) Seixas abandon and Del Toro win, then went out for a windy run.

It was a tough decision not to swim; I really don’t like missing open swims. But, as I walked through our alley before I started the run and felt the cool and windy air, I was glad I hadn’t gone. The run was good. The first 5 minutes always feel strange now. Is it that my shoes aren’t quite right, or that I’m getting older, or something else I’m not imagining? I think it’s more a redesign of the shoes than anything else.

I don’t remember what I thought about, and not much of what I noticed. I ran on the narrow and root-y strip of dirt in the grassy boulevard until I reached the 44th street parking lot. I don’t remember hearing any distinctive birds or avoiding any squirrels.

10 Things

  1. a trio of roller skiers on the double bridge
  2. 2 bikers crossing in front of me to bike down to the overlook at the south entrance of the winchell trail
  3. a bike zooming by me
  4. a man sitting on a bench near the locks and dam, fishing
  5. a squeaking noise as something on a light pole was jarred loose in the wind
  6. choppy water under the ford bridge
  7. the dirt path that winds through the grass was narrower in past years — are people using it less?
  8. someone slowly jogging up the locks and dam hill, then stopping at the top
  9. 3 people spread across the bottom of the wabun hill, one of them pusing a bike and holding a (too) loose leash with a small dog
  10. an older couple, the man pushing a walker, on the edge of the trail near the coyote den nearby sign, looking at something — the river? the coyote den? something across, on the east bank?

For most of the run I don’t remember much of what I heard. For the last mile, I listened to my “It’s Windy” playlist. Favorite song today: “Summer Breeze.”

I almost forgot about the shadows! Actually, I did forget about the shadow for several hours until suddenly they popped into my head. At the locks and dam, running by a fence, I saw some sharp shadows and stopped to take a picture:

shadows / locks and dam no 1 / 14 june 2026

Fence and shadow, shadow and fence. Which is more real?

june 13/RUN

5 miles
marshall loop (to fairview)
64 degrees

Ran up Marshall past Cretin, Cleveland, and Prior. Turned on Fairview and over to Summit, then on the edge of the St. Thomas campus. We missed the bells by 6 minutes. Bummer. It was a good run. As we walked home, I told Scott that I was successful for a few reasons: 1. I didn’t look at my watch or check my heart rate; 2. I had a shift in perspective because of the success of my last long run; 3. our run together was only 5 miles instead of 9; and 4. it was slightly cooler outside.


2 images from the run

one — running down the last bit of Summit to the Monument, passing two runners heading up Summit. One runner to the other: it sounded like a gravel-y screech. Then he fully committed to imitating it. It was funny and shocking to hear such strange sounds. Scott and guessed that he was trying to tell the other runner about a bird sound he had heard at some other time.

two — a bike passing us as we ran down the Summit hill near Shadow Falls blasting Average White Band’s “Pick Up the Pieces.”

It was a beautiful morning. Sunny, but with lots of shade. Near St. Thomas I greeted my shadow. Later, I switched places with Scott as we ran so I could be closer to the railing and the edge. I told him that I wanted to let my shadow run closer to the river. I noticed her just above the tops of the trees below us.

The river was low. We could see a sandbar just below the surface. The paths weren’t too crowded.

An unusual encounter: a line of 20 or so kids and adults, dressed up for a hike with big backpacks. Were they going on a camping trip. Scott said, it’s funny how all of the kids moved over to let us run by; it was the adults who were clueless. Yep, that sounds right.

Scott talked about the movie clips he’s using in his latest YouTube video. I recounted several instances — one good, one bad, one neutral — of people drafting off me during runs. We ended by discussing the different Indiana Jones’ movie openings, especially the moment in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull when Harrison Ford hides in the fridge and gets flung up in the air when the bomb goes off. I had a suggestion for a future run topic: rank the top 10 best comic moments in Bond films with Roger Moore.

added at 6:45 pm: For reason I can’t remember, I decided to read my entries from June of 2025. Because the log posts them from last day to first, I’m reading them that way. Already on 30 June, so many wonderful ideas. A random thought as I read it: Richard Siken’s latest book — I Know Some Things. I started reading it and posting about it this past winter (the last time was on 3 dec 2025). I need to return to it. There are a lot of books I purchased in the last year that I haven’t finished. Maybe the rest of June could be about reading Siken and the other books I haven’t had time to read yet? Or, at least this next week could be about reading all of Siken’s book. I could take it to the lake or the falls or on bike rides somewhere else.