I have just returned a run. And not just any run, but the first shirtless run I’ve had… well, since summer ended.

Mr. Sun has decided to grace us with a brief reappearance. Or, for the visual thinkers:

Running in nothing but shorts and shoes is so freeing, so primal. And even the mild air felt electric on my bare skin.

There will be a time when Mr. Sun returns to kicking my butt. Hopefully that won’t be until the summer. Just now, I’m content to enjoy a more favorable relationship.

I am very proud of my runners. Wednesday I joined them for some uphill 400m repeats. It was a tough workout, and they did admirably. One story, which deserves special mention here, surrounds a kid we’ll call Connor.

First, let me introduce Connor the runner. Conner is a new entrant into the running fold. He used to be a wrestler, and he’s still built like one (or perhaps a tree stump). He has crippling asthma and carries an inhaler on our longer runs. The boy is SLOW. He does, however, get the distance in.

You can see why I’m moved by his struggles- struggles being the key word here.

On the day in question, Connor was struggling to keep his feet beneath him. We had done four out of the five reps, and an inhaler-less runner stood bent over on the road. He wheezed into the oversized shirt he was clasping to his mouth. Clouds of steam were rolling off his wide shoulders. I asked if he was okay for one more, and his head swiveled in the negative. I told him to jog back to school, that he should feel good about today’s workout. He watched us take the line for one last sprint, watched us get into position, watched my signal to start.

Then, with a glorious bellow of “FUUUUUUCK!”, Connor chased the group up the hill. He joined us for one last repeat, and completed the workout with the rest of the team.

As I peeled post-workout Connor off the asphalt, I asked him why he needed to do the last repeat. He squinted at me, as if the answer was obvious.

“No one quits with one left,” he said.

Connor may have some potential after all.

“Coach B., is it okay to pee blood after a run?”

The question came from a high school runner as he scrutinized the contents of his urinal. It looked like pink lemonade, and he remarked in a chagrined sort of way on this resemblance.

As I examined the offending piss, rather chagrined myself, another runner interjected. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It happens to me after soccer games sometimes.”

I wasn’t so sure. I had never peed blood after a run, and I’ve been on some pretty demanding runs. I was concerned enough to do some research… for both of their sakes.

It turns out the second runner, the soccer player, was correct; peeing blood after exercise really isn’t too uncommon. It’s called Haematuria, and it often happens to active humans. In fact, samples taken from marathoners post-race have returned 20-30% positive results (Lam). The difference is in how much blood is in the pee. Most of the time, it can’t be seen with the naked eye. Humans, being visual creatures, don’t panic until they can actually see the red blood cells leaving their body.

Some people seem more susceptible to this more alarming phenomenon than others. Why that is, physiologists still debate. Some possibilities include:

1. Damaged red blood cells in the feet from impact with the ground. Don’t worry- this doesn’t happen to everyone. It seems to only affect people with unusually fragile red blood cells (Dr. Andrew Bosch).

2. Dehydration. One of the oldest and most pervasive enemies to runners, it may be the root of yet another malady.

3. A whole host of other things, including…

“…renal ischaemia (lack of adequate blood flow to the kidneys), hypoxic damage, the release of a haemolyzing factor during exercise, bladder and/or kidney trauma associated with exertion, the use of non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs… and the peroxidation of red blood cells which is an inevitable feature of sustained aerobic exercise

(‘Sport-Related Haematuria: A Review,’ Clinical Journal of Sport Medicine, Volume 7(2), pp. 119-125, 1997).

So if you’re seeing blood after your runs, you probably still want to consult a doctor- but don’t, as I would have, get too worked up over it.

Glad I didn’t have any pictures this time?

At the end of a long week of teaching, I found myself sprinting across campus to fulfill my student-teacherly obligations. I had just submitted two forms containing my cooperating teacher’s evaluation of my performance, along with a detailed layout of next week’s lessons. I had to get to another professor’s office so that I could discuss a lesson I could barely remember. My red tie was bouncing on my shoulder, and my knees ached from the cold weather. Had I remembered to give that student all of her homework for the next week so that she could go on vacation? Was I meeting with Nate’s parents on Monday or Tuesday? Holy crap, I had to submit my portfolio soon. Did Dashawn ever give me a note for missing fourth period?

When I got home on a Friday afternoon, I was exhausted. I laid down my bag, untied my tie, and undressed. I struggled with my dress shoes until my feet popped out like a couple of dark corks. Then I pulled on my beat-up running shoes.

My longest run of the week is always on a Friday. After five days in the eighth grade gauntlet, my thoughts are tangled, my body weary, and my emotions running high. To get out on the road for an hour and a half, just me and the elements…

Well, it untangles me. It energizes me. It brings me peace.

This morning I met up with a friend to embark upon our third annual Art Museum run.

Every year we meet to run from our high school track to the Art Museum in Philadelphia, about 13 miles away. It was my friend who chose the Art Museum as our destination- I don’t know why; it seems arbitrary now. He probably just wanted to run up the stairs and wave his fists. Ah, tourists.

Three years ago, when the tradition started, 13 sounded like a lot of miles. By the time we’d reached the museum, we could do no more than crawl up the famous Rocky Steps.

This year, on the other hand, 13 miles just lacked that old satisfaction. I had done 15 miles for the last two Thursdays, making 13 seem like a breeze. We were also moving at a slow pace, to the point that when we reached the steps, I barely felt tired.

So after the usual route, I extended my run until it was 17 miles long- one of my longest distances ever. And that, that seems worthy of fist-waving.

P.S.: The chaffing has me walking bow-legged right now. Can anyone recommend a good lube for future long runs?