After a long day of driving through horrible winds and gripping the steering wheel so tight I got tendonitis, I am stopped in South Bend, IN, for the night. I am on my way back to Chicago and as I was pulling into town I saw a few indications that Notre Dame was here. After a complete well duh look from the guy I inquired about this to at the check in counter my suspicion was confirmed.
I have never seen Notre Dame, other in the movie Rudy. To be honest, not only did I not know it was located here, I don't think I could have even pointed out Indiana on a map three months ago. I am excited to be here and wanted to check out the campus.
I asked the front desk clerk how far campus was from the hotel and he said, "Three miles." I said "Three miles there and back?" He said, "Yes." Since I was in my running gear I thought for sure he didn't mean three miles each way.
So I hit the pavement. After driving all day it feels nice to get out, stretch my legs and explore a little. About a mile into the run I became concerned I was heading the wrong way. I saw a mother and child heading across a parking lot and asked them for directions. She looked at me for a second, smiled, and looked into her small car with a bit of bewilderment. She then began to offer me a ride which I quickly declined and explained to her I was trying to get some exercise. She pointed me in the right direction stating it was a good ways over there and I thanked her and headed on my way.
I have been running for three days now. This is my usual pattern. I will run for a few days then lose motivation, find something more fun to do, or just get too busy. In an attempt to break this cycle I pushed onward. Just a moment after I left the lady in the parking lot I pod Irene, as I not so affectionately call her, said, "Half way done, one point five miles to go." I had already run a mile and a half; I was supposed to turn around at this point to complete the three mile loop. I did no such thing.
There is a phenomenon which occurs in the mind when one thinks he has invested too much in something to quit before it is over. In mountaineering it is called summit fever." This is a well known problem to people living in the mountains as many people parish because of it. Summit fever is when you have hiked so far up a mountain and you get so close to the top that you can practically smell it. This is usually the most dangerous part of the mountain. It is not really dangerous because of the terrain but because it is in the afternoon when storms are formed in the mountain. Summit fever is when a climber gets so caught up in reaching the summit he or she ignores all signs to quit climbing.
At this point, oh so early into the run, I had summit fever.
As I kept running I saw no sign of a University. This is not a huge city people. One would think they might want to put up a sign or two in hopes of attracting, I don't know, say... a tourist (I hear they spend money). So I kept running. Irene, in her ever so calm voice begins to count down the miles. I see a sign; it's for a golf course, a Notre Dame golf course!
At this point I am pretty excited. Then I hear, "300 yards to go." I was about to reach three miles and a little screwed at this point. I kept running and the fact that the fairways on the golf course were parallel to my path was another sign of "Oh damn."
So finally I see the sign for Notre Dame. I tried to keep running until I was actually on the campus (Keep in mind I still had to get back). As I got closer a group of girls came from behind and passed me. They all looked pretty young to be in college. As I look closer I realize they are a high school girl's soccer team. I just got passed by a high school girl's soccer team! At this point I was pretty embarrassed yet not too ashamed to ask them for a sip of water, since I was about to die. Suddenly their coach passes and is really cute. I decide my overwhelmingly dry mouth better stay that way in order to prevent drooling.
Notre Dame is a pretty campus, and the only one I have ever seen without water fountains.
After a quick look around, and I do mean quick, I started the trek back to my hotel. I kept reminding myself I had run a marathon just a few years ago, this should be nothing. Dammed Taco Bell, this was not fun. This was me stuck on the other side of town from my hotel, no cabs in sight, and three (OK, five) months of completely no exercise.
I ran a little, I walked a lot. Along the way I passed a garage sale. If I had taken my wallet I would have been the proudest grown man to ever own a bicycle designed for a seven year old girl.
So I made it back and am now waiting for the delivery man to bring me the biggest order of Chile con queso and giant burrito South Bend has to offer. He better get here soon.