Ice, Ice, Baby

The Polar Vortex that brought prolonged subzero temperatures and massive snow to the Chicago area has receded.  But, as the temperature got above zero, and then above freezing, the snow accumulated on lawns and driveways melted, drained back into the streets, and in some cases re-froze as patches of black ice.  On Friday, we received heavy rains, that when they reached the ground that had been in a deep-freeze for over a week, immediately froze much larger swaths as a slushy frozen layer.  I am not sure why this surprised meteorologists and road officials, but there was not much response in the way of salting the road.  

The rain relented in the hours before dawn, and when I went out to get my newspaper at about 6:00 a.m., it looked like the pavement had absorbed a lot of the moisture, and was not as slippery as the day before.  I walked to both ends of my street, and found 2 strips of black ice.  A little later when I went to buy milk, I decided to drive the streets of our running route, and see how icy they were.  I took the subcompact car that our kids get the use of on winter break after their grandparents have (smartly) escaped to Florida.  This car has rear wheel drive, so any ice present when I hit the brakes would result in a skid.  Sure enough, the streets adjacent to mine were much more coated.  These are older streets, and have more trees and bigger lots, so I suppose there was more melting snow to drain and re-freeze.  I left the store, and drove in the main part of town.  This is not my usual running route, but I was hoping that the heavier traffic melted the ice somewhat.   As I drove the streets, I could here particles hitting the underside of the car.  This was not an area with gravel, so I figured it was road salt.  Most of the times when I tested the brakes, the car did not skid.  I drove a few more streets, and I decided that running in this direction would be an option if our regular, hillier route was icy. 

As I drove the regular running route, I kept coming across large stretches of sheer ice.  At first, I concocted detours on less icy streets, but as the icy patches become more regular, and stretched longer, I aborted the rest of my test drive, and decided to punt on the flatter route.

My wife woke up, and I texted my friends, Dale and John.  Our planned distances were John and I – 17 miles, Dale – 8, and Laura 6.  Since we were running out and back, Laura would turn around first, and Dale would do 8 miles with John and me.  I was hoping that it might warm up by then, and John and I could finish on our regular route.

We called out all the slippery spots as we passed them – within the first block, we had to skate across a 5-10 foot patch of ice.  I kept promising the others that it would be less icy when we cross the busy street, Wolf Road.  The streets right past my corner are in unincorporated Mokena, and I expected the Village of Mokena to a better job at salting the streets.   Those streets were marginally better, but we still managed to find icy spots here and there.   To get to the main part of the running route, we had to run on a busier street – Schoolhouse Road.  The speed limit is still 25 mph, but people go faster, because it is only part residential.  The road was not icy because of the traffic, but we also had to cross railroad tracks.  The rubber material they use for street crossings can become slick even in a morning dew, so I slowed down, and looked for trains, and waited for the others to warn them.  Running on the ground towards a tree, I saw a silvery-gray/white animal.  It was the color of a possum, but looked like a squirrel.  Yep, there on the tree trunk, was a squirrel with fur as white as the snow on the ground, with a couple of silver-grey spots on it.  It was playing with another brown squirrel, the more typical brown color.  I don’t normally bring my phone on runs, but I did because of the dubious road conditions, so I took a picture of this rare sight.  I have seen jet-black squirrels in Vancouver, BC, and in Benton Harbor Michigan, and the Quad Cities, but I have never heard of a white squirrel. 

We got going, and after we turned the corner, we got into a neighborhood with both a lot of room on the shoulders, and a fair amount of traffic, but a low speeds.  We had the wind at our back, and more reliable footing, so our fastest runner in the group, John, let go of the reins, and took the lead.  It felt good to not land tentatively for a mile or so.  We came close to the 3 mile mark where Laura should be turning around, and I hung back and turned round to tell her to be careful.  I kissed her, and tried to catch up to John and Dale.  Dale was 1-2 blocks ahead of me, and John was almost that far ahead of Dale.  I was clocking a 6:30 pace, and if I had to keep it up for more than a half mile to catch them, I would be too winded to keep up with them once I did.  Luckily, they had to stop for an extremely long light at LaGrange Road. 

We continued the rest of our fourth mile in the eastern half of Mokena, and again hit a mix of clear and icy spots.   When my watch hit 4 miles, John and Dale still were under the mark (probably because I doubled back a few hundred yards to send Laura back home).  When we turned around, we broke a cardinal rule of running and ran on the right side of the road, because we had already encountered all the icy spots there, and hopefully would know where all the icy spots were.  Now the running was tougher, because we were running directly into a strong west wind, which we would almost the entire way back.  We did manage to clock a couple for quick miles, but they were silent.    As we got within a mile or two of my house, we were getting pelted by small droplets of snow/freezing rain.  This was just adding to the slickness on the street.  I had been considering doubling back for a second helping of this grueling icy out and back, but John and I decided that we should go to the health club for the last 9 miles.  

We finished in front of my house, and Laura was outside with our dog.  We said good-bye to Dale, and John used the bathroom, and I changed out of my soaking wet top into something dry and more lightweight for the “dreadmill”.  I came prepared with a sweatband, and lots of fluids, and a Gu, but I should have brought headphones to either plug into the TV screen on the treadmill, or to play music on my phone.  I am just not in the habit of listening to music when I run or ride. But 9 miles, combined with being worn down by the city terrain outside made it hard to stay motivated.

It was almost 10 am, and there were lots of people in the health club.  The had the heat going like it was still subzero, but all the rain the previous night gave it near 100% humidity.   I wasn’t sure what my pace was supposed to be, but I was pretty sure I had been below it outside.  So around 8:30 minutes per mile seemed right.  I varied it a bit every mile- added 1% instead of 0.5% incline – increased the speed to 8:22 or 8:15 for a quarter to half a mile.  I don’t think it is good to have the EXACT same speed/incline for miles and miles, because you never have that outside.  Plus mentally, it distracts you from the monotony to see the numbers change a bit. 

One thing that helped was seeing familiar faces in the health club. I have been coming to Body Tech since it opened 10+ years ago, and my wife and were members of the YMCA that occupied its space the 7-8 years before.  But drenched in sweat, beat up from the outside run and wanting to be done, I could manage a nod for the parade of old friends, but hoped they would not walk over and engage me in conversation.  At least John was sharing in the monotony.   His pace was faster, and as much as I tried not to play catchup, I did increase my pace sporadically for 0.25- 0.5 miles at a time, since he was going to give me a ride home, and I did not want to make him wait.

We had to reset the treadmills when we hit 1 hour, and I had 2 miles to go.  I figured I would hold steady until 1 mile, and then increase the pace.  But I was getting anxious to finish and bored of seeing the same numbers, so after a half mile, I started to tweak the MPH up by 0.1 every eight to a quarter of mile.  By the time I got to 1 mile, I was already at an 8:00 pace.  That sounds great after 16 miles, but at this point the treadmill seems like it is calling the shots, not me.  Since I ran a little extra outside, I only needed 8.75 miles to reach 17.  So now, I was about same distance from the finish as on our outdoor route when we say we start to “smell the hay in barn”.  Well, there was a barnyard aroma emanating from the treadmills, but it was stronger than hay!  I started to notch the speed up, and finished the last quarter mile at a 7:30 pace.  I thought I saw 8.75 miles pass, but I might have missed it and gone to 8.8. I started decreasing the speed bit by bit, and jogged a tenth of a mile, and then walked a bit. 

I was drenched, sore from the tough, tentative run outside, and mentally numb from the zombie-like repetition of the treadmill.  But it was done, Week 3 of 16 in the books.  John had already wiped off his treadmill, and he left me the spray bottle of disinfectant and paper towels.  The floor, my gym bag, and every part of the treadmill had dried sweat drops.  And I still was drenched, because there was not evaporation happening, which also means cooling is limited.    

I changed my shirt, stretched a little, and got in John’s car.  It was almost eleven o’clock.  We had tried to start around 7:30.  Just as we pulled onto my street, we saw the first salt truck of the day.   If I had known for sure the streets would be seated at a certain time, I might have waited – but they are not very reliable.