Category: Running Log

july 24/RUN

3.1 miles
2 trails
73 degrees

And the week of heat begins. A few days ago, the high was expected to be 103 on Wednesday. Now just 98. Still too warm. I could feel the heat in my run this morning. Harder to breathe. Even so, running feels better. My knees and hips don’t hurt. Hooray!

Listened to kids and cars and birds for most of the run. Turned on “The Wiz” for the last mile.

10 Things

  1. the energetic din of kids getting dropped off for camp at Dowling Elementary
  2. “Uptown Funk” playing on the playground at Minnehaha Academy — I could hear “too hot” through the trees as I ran past. I wondered if it was the edited version or if some kid might go home tonight singing “hot damn”
  3. passing a woman walk-running with her dog on the short hill down to the south entrance of the winchell trail
  4. as I write this entry on my deck, I can hear one of the kids next door whining or whimpering non-stop inside of their house. I am almost positive it’s a kid, but could it be a dog? wow
  5. the water was a burning white
  6. haze hovers above the water’s surface — it looks so hot!
  7. calling out excuse me and thank you! as I passed 3 walkers spread across the path
  8. flying fast down the hill into the tunnel of trees, everything a blur
  9. up on edmund, farther from the river, hearing the faint voices of rowers
  10. no roller skiers or overheard conversations or regulars

july 23/SWIM

5 loops!
lake nokomis open swim
75 degrees


5 loops! The most I have swum this summer at one open swim session. I had to get out after 2 loops to go to the bathroom and then stopped for a break after loop 4. With those breaks, I finished 10 minutes before open swim ends. If I began right when open swim started and didn’t take any breaks, could I do 6 loops in the 2 hours? Maybe that should be an end of August goal?

The water was wonderful — calm, not too cold, buoyant. The air was hazy and I couldn’t see the orange buoys at all for sighting. I also couldn’t see the flash of the white boat that I use for sighting. Before starting, I lined up my path with the far shore and the white boat, then began swimming, trusting that my body — my shoulders, my hips, legs, feet, brain — knew the way to go. And they did. And I didn’t panic or wonder if I was off course. All these years of working on letting go of the need to know exactly where I was going, the need for confirmation with a clear view, is paying off. I can swim without needing to SEE.

The water was opaque, the color of brown lentils. I kept seeing flashes just below me. I wondered if they were big fish or just a trick of the light. None of the flashes bumped into me, so I didn’t care what they were.

As I swam, I devoted some of my time to listening to the different gurgling and sloshing and splashing sounds my body made as I moved through the water — the slosh past my ear, the gurgle of my mouth, the splash as my arm lifted out of the water near my leg then reentered above my head.

On the back end of at least 2 loops (the stretch from little beach back to big beach), I recited the Tony Hoaglund poem I just memorized — The Social Life of Water. I thought about the different types of water and then where humans fit in — aren’t we 98% water? I also thought about the last few lines:

But you, you stand on the shore
of blue Lake Kieve in the evening
and listen, grieving
as something stirs and turns within you.

Not knowing why you linger in the dark.
Not able even to guess
from what you are excluded.

I thought about how different it is to be standing on the shore versus being in the water, swimming through it, being rocked by the waves, hearing sounds underwater, feeling the cold. I don’t think I can understand like the line, all water understands, suggests, but I do believe that I witness the social life of water in a different way when I’m in it.

july 22/RUN

3.8 miles
marshall loop
70 degrees

Ran with Scott up to Cleveland, over to Summit, beside St. Thomas, down to the river. Stopped and hiked around the Monument before starting to run again. A nice, relaxed run — we talked about the difficulties of taking care of aging parents, terrible comments online, being able to still smell bland smells but not intense ones, swift carrots in Zelda, and whether or not a person who is completely blind (seeing no light) could run if they were tethered to a guide (pacer).

10 Things

  1. dodging sprinklers
  2. the sound of falling water
  3. wooden ramps covering temporary water pipes on the sidewalk making a dull thud when I ran over them
  4. rowers on the river — 2 8 person shells lined up like they might race
  5. a new favorite view of the river from the east side — under the monument on some jutting rocks, a wide view of the lake street bridge, the blue river, longfellow flats on the west side
  6. roots as makeshift steps
  7. mud on some limestone, small gravel and dry dirt on other limestone
  8. the shshshshuffle of a runner’s striking feet from behind
  9. a woman talking on a phone outside — I support all sorts of things in Minneapolis and I’m a SENIOR!
  10. small decals on the lower corner of an out-of-business restaurant: wine glasses and plates and beer mugs? — I can’t quite remember

While I drank my coffee this morning, I memorized a delightful water poem by Tony Hoagland — The Social Life of Water.

july 21/SWIM

3 loops
lake nokomis open swim
75 degrees

What a beautiful morning at the lake! Too bright for sighting, but nice for making each swimmer’s body glitter and glow. As I waded in water right by the shore, I noticed dozens of little minnows swimming just ahead of me. I walked slowly and watched as they scattered. Spotted a bird and a plane in the sky. Again, I couldn’t see the orange buoys until I was swimming past them.

The water started smooth and was buoyant. I floated on the surface and felt the strength in my triceps as I finished my stroke. A wonderful feeling — all the loops I’ve already done have gotten me to this point, able to power through the water.

Saw some ducks, but no seagulls. Several canoes and kayaks crossed my path. I don’t remember noticing any swans.

Swam 2 loops, got out to go to the bathroom, then did a 3rd loop. There were several dozen swimmers. The swimming area was mostly empty of kids — too early + no lifeguard on duty yet?

I wish I could have stayed at the lake, looking at the water and the buoys, maybe doing one more loop, but I didn’t have time.

july 20/SWIM

3 loops
lake nokomis open swim
78 degrees

Another great swim! Sunny, warm, not too windy. I couldn’t see the buoys at all, but I stayed mostly on course and the one time I was off, I didn’t care. Swimming from the little beach to the big beach I suddenly noticed the buoy was way off to my left, so I stopped and turned sharply and headed towards it. I’m pleased with myself for being so unworried about messing up. I’ve been working on it for a few years now.

I started strong, but was ready to be done midway through the 3 loop. Near the end, my body felt awkward, especially my shoulders and feet.

I didn’t have time to write this right after my swim so I’m doing it the morning after. Can I remember 10 things?

10 Things

  1. a dark plane passing through a white cloud above me
  2. several sailboats with white sails have joined the orange-sailed boat to my right
  3. the sun on the water’s surface: shimmering, sizzling
  4. sighting the buoys: almost always, nothing but empty water, trees, sky
  5. sloshing water passing by my ears
  6. grazing the side of the orange buoy as I rounded it, watching it twist slightly
  7. crossing over vegetation just below me near the big beach
  8. more orange safety buoys tethered to torsos than yellow ones
  9. before the swim: enchanted by the gentle undulations of the water
  10. after the swim: standing below the lifeguard stand drying off and listening to a female off-duty lifeguard flirting (?) with a male lifeguard up in the stand — it sucks that I won’t be here for the party…are you going back to Ireland?

july 19/RUNSWIM

run: 3.4 miles
2 trails
74 degrees / dew point: 62

Running is feeling a little better, at least on my knee and hip. Mentally it’s difficult to get back into the effort that continuous running takes. For the first mile or so, I chanted triple berries in my head — strawberry / raspberry / blueberry. It helped. Everything is wet this morning — a quick thunderstorm in the middle of the night. Puddles, dripping trees, mud. Slippery.

Waved at Mr. Walker Sitter — not sitting but walking today, good morninged Mr. Morning!, passed a bunch of kids on bikes in yellow vests with an adult, thanked a man for moving his dog over to the side so I could run by. A few minutes later, saw something on the winchell trail ahead of me — a puddle? a tree branch? No, a blue tent wrapped up and around a supine body — two bare legs sticking out wearing hiking boots. Not moving. Were they asleep? passed out? dead? Why were they on the paved trail? Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? Not sure what to do, I kept running, knowing that the kind man with the dog would be encountering this same sight in just a few minutes. For the rest of the run, I wondered if I did the right thing. I asked RJP and she thought it was good I didn’t stop, especially since someone else (a man with a dog) was close behind me and could stop.

As I write this entry (at 10:45 in the morning), some (but not all) meteorologists are forecasting possible severe thunderstorms (a tornado) for late afternoon. Will they cancel open swim? Will a tornado touch down?

hours later: No! Open swim was not cancelled, although it looked ominous (or om, as I like to say) when we got there. I managed to swim 25 minutes before it thundered. Excellent!

swim: 1.5 big loops
cedar lake open swim
dark skies, threat of a storm

One half of the sky was a deep blue/purple, the other started mostly clear and light blue but quickly was covered in clouds as I started my swim. The water was choppy and dark and cold — why so cold? It’s almost 90 degrees! A good swim. As usual, I felt strong and fast and happy plowing through the waves. Because it’s cedar, people were swimming in whatever direction they wanted — no worries, I’ve embraced the cedar chill. Decided to do 3 quick loops then check on the weather. As I neared the shore, I noticed all the lifeguards and kayaks out of the water. At first I didn’t know why, then I heard one of them say, we need to stay out of the water for 30 minutes. Oh — it must have thundered. And, as if on cue, it thundered again. Very happy to have been able to swim at all tonight!

july 18/SWIM

3 loops
lake nokomis open swim
85 degrees

Warmer today. Yes! I forgot to mention yesterday how cold I was when I left the water at cedar. My jaw ached, my legs were shaking a little. For the last loop my fingers were almost numb. It wasn’t that cold — in the 70s (air), 75 (water) — but it felt cold to me. Tonight much better. The difference was the air temperature and the amount of sun, I think. A nice swim.

I can tell that it’s harder for me to see the orange buoys. I barely ever see them now. Really just the idea of orange — I look in the direction I think the buoy should be and orange appears in my head. Maybe this sounds strange, but I think what’s happening is that my brain is getting some visual data that’s too faint for me to recognize consciously — my brain, everyone’s brain, does that. I’m pretty confident I’m going the right way so I keep swimming. So far, the buoy always shows up (approximately/roughly/almost) where I thought it was.

10 Things

  1. silver flashes below me — fish?!
  2. a lifeguard’s voice through a bullhorn announcing the safety break (at 6:15) — I heard it as I swam parallel to the main beach in the long stretch between the second green buoy and the first orange one
  3. racing swan boats! — 3 or 4 of them off to my left as I swam toward the little beach
  4. a single sailboat with an orange sail
  5. a paddle boarder in the swimming area
  6. a vine wrapped around my shoulders, prickly and long — I didn’t want to stop swimming so I quickly ripped it off with my stroking hand
  7. crossing above the rope that is attached to the buoy on one end, an anchor on the other
  8. looking under the water and seeing the pale legs of a swimmer in front of me
  9. barely grazing the foot of another swimmer near the far orange buoy — did it irritate or surprise him? Did he think it was a fish or a swimmer or something else? Did he even notice?
  10. the diagonal line of swimmers taking the shortest and most direct path from buoy to buoy — seeing them on my left side every time I breathed, I could see elbows, forearms, the white of their spray, the green of their caps, the yellow of their safety buoys

Found this poem the other day:

Trust/ Thomas R. Smith

It’s like so many other things in life
to which you must say no or yes.
So you take your car to the new mechanic.
Sometimes the best thing to do is trust.

The package left with the disreputable-looking
clerk, the check gulped by the night deposit,
the envelope passed by dozens of strangers—
all show up at their intended destinations.

The theft that could have happened doesn’t.
Wind finally gets where it was going
through the snowy trees, and the river, even
when frozen, arrives at the right place.

And sometimes you sense how faithfully your life
is delivered, even though you can’t read the address.

I like trusting the world — not that I always do, but I’m trying to.

july 17/RUNSWIM

run: 3.05 miles
2 trails
60 degrees

Another cooler morning. Sun, low wind, good air. I’ve cut back on running this month because my left hip is tight and my left kneecap has been shifting in the groove a little too much. Plus, I’m swimming more. Oh, and I had to take several days off because of COVID. And then, of course, we (much more Scott than me) moved Scott’s dad out of his apartment and into assisted living. A strange month.

Listened to the cars, blue jays, a few rowers, and an adult instructing some kids on bikes — you’re biking uphill now, so you should shift gears for most of the run. For the last mile, I put in my headphones and listened to Camelot.

10 Things I Ran On/Over/Around

  1. soft, dry dirt
  2. grass
  3. concrete
  4. dead leaves, still intact
  5. dead leaves, half mulched
  6. dead leaves, mostly mucky dirt
  7. asphalt, only a few cracks
  8. asphalt, rubbled
  9. limestone steps
  10. tree roots

10 Living Things Encountered

  1. a runner with her dog on the winchell trail
  2. a walker from behind — excuse me excuse me right behind you!
  3. the voice of a rower drifting up from the river
  4. the voice of 2 women walkers drifting down from the road
  5. the fee bee of a black capped chickadee
  6. a group of bikers — an adult + several kids
  7. an older male runner
  8. a young female runner
  9. someone emerging from the porta potty, rubbing in hand sanitizer as they crossed the trail
  10. a screeching, moaning, whining voice coming from an alley — a raccoon? a dog? nope, a kid in a stroller

swim: 3 loops (6 small loops)
cedar lake open swim
79 degrees

A great swim! Not too windy or wavy or crowded. I barely saw the buoys but it doesn’t matter at cedar. People swim everywhere here. I thought I saw my shadow below me in the water. Is that possible? No fish, but a few birds. Every so often the sun reflected off the water and everything glowed. Today’s reason it’s wonderful to swim in the lake: I don’t need to SEE (as in, fine detail, fast focus, clear images) to navigate. And, my way of seeing — forms, relying on big landmarks, not panicking when things don’t quite make sense — helps me to see as good, or probably better, than most normally sighted people.

july 16/SWIM

4 loops
lake nokomis open swim
68 degrees
foggy and drizzly

Hooray for 4 loops! A few sprinkles before I started, then some rain while I swam. Difficult to tell that it was raining; I couldn’t see it dropping through the opaque water, but I did hear hit the surface. Felt strong and happy, not too sore. Every so often my knees would lock up, but my new trick of doing 2 or 3 frog kicks was all I needed to unlock them. The water was full of swells and rocked me back and forth. The last lap was the worst. With the small waves coming from behind, it was hard to get power with my stroke. I knew I was moving, but I felt like Shaggy running in place.

Swam 3 loops then got out of the water to make the long trek to the bathroom. Annoying, but even if I wanted to (which I don’t) I can’t get myself to pee in the lake. Nothing comes out. Got back in the water and felt strange — warmed up, floating through emptiness, hardly feeling anything

10 Things

  1. before starting: cold air and cold water
  2. a woman in a pink suit, bracing herself before running in the water, first yelling, I can’t do this! then letting out a battlecry as she dove in
  3. hazy, foggy, fuzzy view — I thought my goggles were fogged up, but it was just the moisture in the air
  4. the sound of someone letting the air out of their buoy after they finished
  5. feeling buoyant, on top of the water, fast
  6. a bright light off in the distance — a car’s headlights in the parking lot
  7. bright green arms — does someone have a green wetsuit?
  8. the first orange buoy at the other end of the lake far from me as I rounded the second green buoy
  9. an empty lake in front of me then suddenly a yellow buoy appeared (with plenty of time for me to avoid the buoy and the swimmer dragging it)
  10. waves rushing over me, into my side, from behind — sometimes I could see a light spray out of the corner of my eyes caused by my body crashing into the wave

An important thing to remember

This summer some bird that I don’t ever remember hearing before has been screeching regularly. A very irritating sound that cuts through everything else, especially when it happens over and over. Scott figured out what it is: a kestrel! Beautiful, graceful birds when they’re flying, but not when they’re calling out their warnings!

july 15/RUN

2.5 miles
mini marshall loop
70 degrees

Ran with Scott up the marshall hill to cleveland, then over to St. Thomas and back down to Cretin. We were planning to get some coffee at Black, but it looked very crowded. Instead we walked down the hill to Loons and got it there instead. We ran most of it, except for the stretch of hill from the bottom to cretin. We walked that section.

10 Things

  1. bad air quality from the canadian wildfires, 1: a strange orangish pinkish light
  2. bad air quality, 2: hazy over the river — the river was sparkling in the sun, but dulled, not sharp
  3. bad air quality, 3: a haze over the St. Thomas campus, like a strange fog, not thick but fuzzy
  4. interesting patterns on the water’s surface — little grids of waves from the wind
  5. crossing over to st. paul, the river was empty of rowers
  6. crossing back over to minneapolis, Scott mentioned there were rowers. At first, I didn’t see them, but a few minutes later, I noticed a bump in the water in my periphery. Rowers! Suddenly I saw them: 2 small shells with 2 people each off in the hazy distance — this is the strange way my vision works
  7. no bells at St. Thomas
  8. a woman, possibly drunk, singing dude looks like a lady and then yelling out (to us?), I paid for my kids to go to this school! I wanted to speculate on what she meant, Scott did not
  9. an irritating crosswalk that kept barking (in a low voice) wait wait wait but then, when the light changed, didn’t reciprocate go go go, but emitted a rapid series of sounds, making me imagine a round of bullets being fired but not think, Oh, I can walk now
  10. a grand house on cleveland being gutted but not torn down and replaced with an ugly, over-sized new house (nice!, we both agreed)

a life update for future Sara to remember

On Thursday and Friday, Scott and I were in Rochester cleaning out and giving away the last bit of stuff from his parent’s apartment: lamps, chairs, a desk, cleaning supplies, a couch. The end of an era, his mom dead, his dad now in assisted living in the twin cities. Strange to say good-bye to all of this and to be reminded of how little much of your stuff matters to others once you die.