The morning was unseasonably warm as my sister Robyn and I departed the hotel on our way to Grant Park. As we headed up Michigan Avenue we decided to grab a cup of coffee at Starbucks before we worked our way to the start of the 33 rd running of the Chicago Marathon. Even though we arrived early, the park was already crawling with people. Runners of all shapes and sizes, age groups, and ethnic backgrounds filled the park with an energy that was almost palpable. And in the middle of it all was one six-foot-plus polar bear. WTH!?! Obviously it wasn’t a real polar bear. It was actually a registered runner dressed in a polar bear outfit, head to toe. He was hard to miss, patiently waiting in line to use one of the many Porta Johns set up for the race. Okay, sometimes things just don’t make sense on race day but that usually doesn’t happen until late in a race when you are nearly spent, both physically and mentally. ...