9-9-9 (minus 9)

That was the temperature June 2 as I begrudgingly turned off the car to make my way the three blocks to the starting line of Meet Me Downtown. 
Surprisingly plenty of close parking was available which meant I still had 50 minutes to wander around in the near-dusk asphalt and concrete fueled downtown furnace. Fortunately the event moved to a new, much larger staging area which meant plenty of space to find a tree with a patch of grass to sit for awhile. Warming up was largely out of the question; at 99 a couple of blocks away surely it was a few clicks higher amidst a couple thousand people milling around a small space. A few minutes before gun time I made my way behind a semi-secluded area for a final pit-stop given the 20 minute lines (with 10 minutes to go) at the kybos. Warming up included a block or so of strides and some stretching as I walked the last few steps to the now-elbow to elbow start. 
Special guests of honor included GabeZ’s father who consistently has a knack for keeping a positive, powerful message on tract; as well as former Boston winner Amby Burfoot. Apparently he is looking at making our fine city his retirement home and was in town for several days performing recon. By the way he only finished 2nd in his age group; someone apparently took up the semi-serious challenge lobbed at the start by CoachA–that he was a shoo-in to win his division. Not so much. 
Ever the joker (often in appropriate, much to the delight of many) CoachA finished his comments by encouraging expecting moms to deliver their newborns at the race’s major sponsor, TMC, or hanging around the after=race party if interested in making a baby. You probably had to be there. 
Each mile was progressively hotter, more painful and slower. A ton of energy wasted the first 3/4 mile dodging folks who would have been better suited starting near the back 1/3 vs. the front 5 rows. Not understanding race etiquette still escapes me, particularly balls-out sprints. My prior week log of 23 foot and 75 bike miles did more harm than good; I struggled to get my heart-rate under control right away ending with an average of 173. While not unmanageable it didn’t translate into mile splits I’d expect from that rate. Then again I’ve never hit the starting line with triple digit temps. Perhaps racing myself into speed-shape isn’t such a great idea? Next up on the GabeZ triple….Saguaro East. 
All that for a 5k that means little other than another step in my anti-Triple Crown triple crown. 
99 and 10% humidity at 2500 feet or 89 and 25% humidity at 600 feet; which is more taxing on athletic performance?
Ten days prior in gorgeous downtown Chicago 23,000 of us toed the line for the annual Corporate Challenge. I was an unofficial honorary member of our group. Thanks to an amazing last minute scramble I didn’t end up as Yelena~~ my result on behalf of her bib would have tossed out the resulting Mixed Division placement of our top team. 
This being the fourth time I’d competed here, although the first in four years, surprises were few. Not surprising yet no less irritating was the weather: 85+, windy and humid. Great. Heat and wind have become second nature but humidity still knocks it out of me. Adding misery was realizing the conditions were identical to the first two events of my week. Surely I’m being punished for something~~
Running bandit didn’t make me uncomfortable at all; I’ve paid my dues for the event and at $600,000+ entry fees plus tent reservations I hardly believe the <1% bandits adversely impacted title sponsor JP Morgan Chase's bottom line any more than their recent $3B European trade loss.  Lined up as I should be I found daylight quickly and without incident. Within a minute the heat and humidity combination won the sweat battle over the relentless breeze as I could taste the drops as they worked their way down my face. First mile doubled as my warm-up as I spent the designated warm-up time standing in lines. First mile also saw my heart-rate peak at 187. Long night ahead I thought. Settled in finally at a somewhat managable pace during the second mile which also saw a top rate of 189BPM. By the third mile the accumulation of the prior week’s activities caught up with me and I struggled to keep a straight line even with the end in sight. A top-end HR of 193 pretty much summed up the last mile…..just holding on. Result was the worst of the trips I’ve made to the event, perhaps payback for being a bandit? Thus ends, or so I thought at the time, any real effort I’d give on my trip.
June 4
Rosie’s diagnosis confirmed, (Stage III lymphoma), we’ve opted to give aggressive chemotherapy treatment a shot. I believe the vet referred to it as the gold standard on their chart. First round has been completed yet it feels as if it won’t end. Time since  has been consumed by dealing with predictable reaction/response plus an unexpected return trip to the oncologist brought on by her complete refusal to eat. After a week of force feeding, cleaning messes and forcing pills I’m undecided whether an untreatable fast exit or a semi-hopeful drawn out exit is more palatable. Both for the pups as well as their pet parents. She seems peaceful, alert and generally interested. Even excited for a trip to the park with the other pups one night. Yet her advanced age combined with her refusal to eat have me digging into the percentage of canines who respond rather unfavorably to treatment. Simply to be prepared.

Sunset at Columbus Park

Community Water at Cortaro Farms Park