What I Did On My Summer Vacation

I’ve been suffering a serious case of the summer doldrums lately. You know, those days where it’s so darn hot and humid that the breeze created by the subway rushing into the station seems cool? Where it’s so hot that the icy cold temperature of 80 degrees seems like a pleasant respite? Where taking a cold shower before a run seems like a good idea. Yep – those kind of summer doldrums. What’s a runner to do?

Head to the Midwest!!! Yep, I took advantage of grandma’s free babysitting service and hubby’s board meeting to haul my running shoes out to Wisconsin this past weekend in the (mistaken) notion that humidity does not visit the Midwest. I figured that rolling hills and diary farms would make for a welcome relief from the swelter that the tri-state region has become.

Heading out on Thursday morning at 6 a.m. to beat the traffic over the Whitestone Bridge to LaGuardia, it was a beautiful summer morning in New York – low humidity, decent temps. Perfect for flying. Our flight even pushed back from the gate on time and only sat on the tarmac for twenty minutes. We even landed in Chicago ten minutes early! When’s the last time that happened?

When we stepped out of the terminal, we were greeted with northeastern style humidity. Not what I was expected, but I chalked it up to proximity to Lake Michigan. Wisconsin, that was a different story, or so I thought.

One hour and thirty minutes later, we arrived at Lake Geneva, a midwestern resort town on the shores of Lake Geneva. Our hotel was the Grand Geneva, on the site of the former Playboy Bunny Mansion (my husband spent a lot of time looking for rabbits and didn’t find any, thank goodness). But stepping out of the shuttle, that darn humidity had followed us from Chicago. What the heck?

Now if you haven’t experienced land humidity, it’s different from our coastal humidity. I’m serious, it’s a lot heavier and sits on your chest more then the stuff here in NY. Now think how that’s going to feel out on a run? Hmm. My running plans were changing by the minute. The rain was also playing havoc on what I was going to do. No way did I come this far to hole up on the treadmill at the fitness center. Nope – not going to happen.

After dumping our bags, my husband announced he had some work to do, so I decided to first make an appointment for a massage (hey, I wasn’t going to be able to shop in Chicago, so I had to do something to pump the local economy) and then go out for a run before the massage. Sneakers on, shorts on, singlet and sock on, Visor on, card key in shorts pocket. Off I go – but to where?

The front desk looked at me as if I had lost my head when I asked about running outside, they politely suggested the treadmill in the fitness center. Nope. I asked about the golf course (running on the cart path), which they thought was a good idea, so they called the pro shop to ask if the course was open. It wasn’t, as it had already poured outside and they were still expecting more rain (more on that later). To the course I headed.

Hot, humid and rolling hills, but very pretty. I was on the perimeter of the course as I wasn’t sure how lost I would get and this was meant to be a short run just to get acclimated (which given our weather here, I already was). No one else was out – great I’m thinking, what a fabulous way to get an easy, quiet run in before my killer massage.

So there I am, chugging up a hill around the back nine, heading toward the 12th hole (no one is playing, but the flags are up) and suddenly there’s a golf cart screeching to a stop in front of me with two irate gentleman in it. Who are you? What are you doing here? You can’t run here, this is private property!! I’m thinking to myself – what the heck? Did I wander onto another golf course patrolled by the KGB? Is Obama around? Cheney shooting birds? Huh?

So I explain, I’m running (as if they couldn’t tell, but sometimes stating the obvious is worth a try), I’m a hotel guest, the front desk called the golf club and asked if it was OK, it was, here’s my room card key, etc. No dice. They tell me that running isn’t allowed, even if the course is closed, because you can’t walk the course. OK – call me crazy, but I’m running, not trying to walk the course. I don’t have clubs with me, I’m running. Nope, they don’t get it – they tell me again that I can’t walk the course.

Fine – I’ll cut my run short, can they give me a lift back to the golf shop or the main building? Now this is where it gets comical. No they can’t as they only have a two seater cart. Hmmm, How do I get back to the hotel then, I ask, since according to their logic I can’t run because I can’t walk the course (I didn’t actually tell them that their logic was off, they were bigger then me and had a cart). Yep – they suggested I run back. Huh?

To me this is a head-scratcher – I can’t run on the course (or the cart path) because the course prohibits you to walk the course. The course is currently not open to golfers because the greens were saturated. These guys drove out in a two person cart to yell at me and then tell me to go back to my room using the same mode of transportation as I had started out with – my legs. Go figure.

On Friday, I ran into town and did a loop on a two-lane country road – no golfers, just some flies chasing me. It was sunny, hot and humid. I was thrilled to get back to the northeast and go for my not too hot, not humid, no golfers, no golf carts run yesterday. Home sweet home. - The Gabster