I Kept Going...

Dear Everybody,

I DID IT! I DID IT! I ran the marathon! I didn't die or explode or anything! 

Actually, all in all, it went pretty well. I will say that my 20 miler was one thousandfold worse than this experience was. I was in such pain and ran so slowly and that experience was just horrific. This... was unpleasant. And of course, afterwards I was sore and stairs are hard. (Also, if you ever want to find out how much you use your leg muscles when rolling over in bed at night, run a marathon. It turns out it's a lot.)

I'm going to give you a whole rundown of the day, because a lot of people haven't the foggiest what actually happens at a race, and I still haven't really gotten to tell even my close friends and family the blow by blow. There was just too much! For reference, if you'd like, here is the course map one more time.

Here's how the day started: I got up at 4:40 am (seriously.... way too early) to meet my team and "beat traffic." This was a huge feat as I slept really poorly and only got 5 hours of sleep the night before, all thanks to nerves. I will also say that having done this, it was not worth it. I didn't bring any gear to check, we didn't have much important information given to us, and I had to walk further and be up earlier as a result. We got to the start corral at the same 7 am time I was shooting for on my own before I knew about the team meeting, and I would have gotten to sleep an extra hour. The nice part was I got to see my friend Leslie (who wrangled me into all this) before we ran.

In the start corrals: It is chilly. People are either wearing their race layers (aka shorts and a tank or something like that) or have sweatshirts on over them that they will ditch at the starting line. I had on two jackets, one that I ditched, and one that I carried with me. Any clothes that are cast aside at the start are donated to a homeless shelter in Chicago, so I didn't feel bad about leaving my hoodie behind me. I found a pace group in the corral led by a married couple that have run 75 marathons together. What. They were a faster pace than I knew I could do for the whole race, but my 20 miler was so slow that I was worried about completing the race in time. I thought if I stick with them for as long as possible in the beginning, I'll have stashed some time for the end if I need it. This is the opposite of what everyone tells you to do. "Don't go out too fast!" is the warning. So this may have been a stupid strategy, but it worked for me that day.

In the start corral. It's still too early.

As the race starts, you slowly move forward and there are lots of loudspeakers and music and a guy "announcing." And finally you get to the start line and everybody starts jogging. There are so many people that that's all you really have room for. And almost right away there are spectators and they're yelling and have cowbells and signs and are super supportive.

I will say this: whoever thought that long distance runners would love it if everyone along the course were banging cowbells and ratchets the whole way can go die a slow and painful death. Sure, in the beginning it was a little exciting, but imagine being chased by these noisemakers, plus people who've setup loudspeakers with music and cheering FOR SIX HOURS. By the time we got to the west side and parts of the south side I was so grateful that there were less spectators because I could get some peace and quiet.

So after we got going, then you just try to keep going for as long as possible. I am not someone who likes driving in the city because of the traffic, and this was very frustrating for a lot of the same reasons. People are cutting you off, stopping short, and occasionally throwing water cups or pieces of clothing they wish to discard at you (ok, that part is less like traffic). After the halfway point it spreads out enough that you've kind of got your own space, but the beginning is rough especially at the water stations. And nobody (including me) is in a frame of mind to be particularly considerate or notice anyone else because you are just trying to keep going.

I saw my parents around the 3 mile point, which made me happy, and Jeff around 8, which made me really happy because I was starting to get cranky. That was the point where the pace group started to become challenging to stay with, my muscles started feeling tired, and the immensity of the race started to set in. Keep in mind, because of the taper it's been two weeks since you've done a really long run, so I had kind of forgotten how long "long" was. Jeff took the only great photo of me, and then ran a couple blocks on the sidewalk by me, which was fantastic. And then I was off!

The only good picture of me during the race. I like it because I look fit!

This is when things started to get rough. As I mentioned, it became really hard to keep up with the pace group, but I kept fighting. My goal was to stay with them to the halfway point, and I lost them just at the end of the 12th mile (I could see the 13 mile marker coming up), so I was alright with that. I slowed down a little, and hoped to see my family and Jeff in Greektown. But that didn't happen. So I kept going, and had my first walking episode. Nothing particularly painful started to happen, other than my normal foot and ankle issues and the obvious muscle soreness in my legs, but I just wanted to quit. I had hoped to see my family and they weren't there and I wanted to be done and go find them and get some hugs. But I kept going. 

Then we turned around on the west side and the sun got hot and things got less comfortable. I stopped for a bathroom break (there is no smell on earth like a marathon's port-a-potty. Add incredible sweat b.o. to your normal port-a-potty odors) and my right knee hurt when I started back up. This was not the knee that bothered me during training, but it was in the exact same place, so I knew it was the same IT band related issue (and that because I was completely stopped at the bathroom it had seized up). So I kept focusing om my abs, tried to use my glutes more, and kept going. This is called relying on your training.

At this point I started to get mad at the course. I don't know this part of the city as well, and the second half of the west side and into the south side gets really hot, and does some kooky things. Every time we made a turn I wasn't expecting I had an "oh, COME on!" moment where I didn't understand why they wouldn't just let us go home. But I kept going, allowed myself walking breaks, but always cut them shorter than I would have preferred. This was my biggest win during the race, and the area I fell short in during my training runs. I made myself run a lot more than average during the end, and later, when we got inside 20 miles  I was running a lot more than the people around me (or at least we were taking alternate walking breaks).


So I suppose that was my wall, in between 13 and 20 (but kind of starting around 10 and I guess maybe ending around 17 or 18). But it wasn't too terrible. Certainly not as bad as I had expected or it had been made out to be, and it was definitely all mental. In fact, I did not hurt that badly during this race. The foot/ankle pain I had grown accustomed to, the knee stuff I knew how to deal with, and luckily nothing else cropped up. I did have to stop and loosen my laces on my right foot, as I developed a huge and lovely bruise down the top of said foot. I also had a sock bunch up (I think?) that caused a blister on the bottom of my left middle toe. But I kept going. 

My pace on the back half of the course was slow, and indeed between mile 15.5 and 24.8 I was running over a 16 minute mile. You have to be able to complete a 15 minute mile the whole way to be on time for the course, so I was right to anticipate being too slow at the end. Yay, strategizing! Somewhere in here I was walking slowly and looking down at the ground and a lady asked me if I was ok, probably presuming heat stroke or something like it.

I mean, this is the face of someone who is fine, right?

But when we made a turn onto Cermak and came up on Chinatown I knew the course again, and that helped. It was also Mile 22 or so, and that helped. I knew I was close to the end and I thought "the more I run, the sooner it will be over!" Then we were running toward the Sox Stadium, and that helped (because I love baseball!) and then we made the penultimate turn onto South Michigan Ave. This is truly a great stretch. Your road is very wide, and the runners are very spaced out, so you've got a lot of room to breathe. At the turn you can see the John Hancock Center, which is a great fixed point to just run at. Eventually it disappears, but the miles are winding down and you can find other distinctive buildings to use. There was a live blues band, which was the only music along the course that I appreciated and felt was in sync with my mood. And I was getting into my old territory from my undergrad days at Columbia, so it was nice to see those old haunts and have a frame of reference for distance to the final turn.

Then, inside the final mile I saw Vashti and Jeff, and that made me really happy. I was nearly there, and they were going to give me hugs! I made it to the turn and started looking for my parents. Then that blister on my toe split open. And I yelled in pain, and no one noticed because they were all in their own mad, nearly finished, exhausted worlds. I nearly quit running and started walking, but I kept going because I was only .2 miles to the finish, and I knew that if I stopped I wouldn't start again. And I wanted to run up that final hill, and then down the other side to the finish, not walk. Walking is icky. And just after that internal dialogue I looked to the left and saw my parents, and they saw me (this was the first time on the course they were able to find me, even though I'd seen them earlier) and THAT made me happy, because I knew I'd get hugs from them too. 

And then you come across the finish and you can quit running, and if you're me you start crying and all the volunteers tell you what a good job you did. They send you down the "finish chute" and you get a silver plastic thingy to keep you warm. A guy next to you sees you crying and gives you a high five and tells you you did a good job. He just finished a marathon too, so you tell him he did a good job as well. Someone sticks a sticker on the plastic for you to fasten it together. You keep keep going (at this point it's not cause you want to, it's cause you have to) to someone who puts a medal around your neck (that part's pretty great) and someone who gives you Gatorade. Then they start handing you snacks (I actually ate a banana gratefully) and more snacks and a bag to hold all the snacks. Then a bag of ice! (Great, but when do I get to sit somewhere so I can use it?!) And finally, a beer! Hurrah! I did enjoy this, as it was a cold 312, and it was refreshing and light, but I couldn't drink it quickly, nor did I finish it because they won't let you take it out of the area and I wasn't standing in the finish chute to drink a beer. 

It took me about 40 minutes to hobble from the finish line back to the Team World Vision tent (it's about five blocks down the chute, two blocks west, and then five blocks back to the tent. Cause it's not like we're tired or anything). There I met my mom, my dad, Vashti and Jeff and it was good.

Then I went home and showered, and it was good.

Then we went out to dinner, and Jenny, Casey, my baby friend and Jenny's aunt joined us, and it was really fun. Note: This was the first time all day that any of this was "fun." I do not get a runner's high. I haven't during this entire process. Even in the morning, at the beginning I was not excited so much as nervous and dreading it. This experience is simply not for me, and not something that I want to keep doing. Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly proud of myself and so grateful that I had the opportunity.  I finished at 5:50:37 and in 35,406th place. Out of 45,000 that makes me feel pretty good. I
 followed through, and learned all kinds of things about struggle and challenges and changing expectations, but I did not "enjoy" the race. At this point, I do not enjoy running anymore. But I'm pretty sure that at some point, when I can do it for pleasure, and it's with a buddy and the weather is nice and it gets me outside I will enjoy it again. But I'm staying in single digit mileage because there is no reason not to.

In fact, my favorite part about this entire experience has been the tremendous outpouring of love from all of my friends, family, acquaintances, and even strangers. I got so many good luck, congratulations, and we love you texts, emails, and posts that I didn't know what to do with them all. And all those donations and support emails that I got prior to the race definitely fueled me during the rough west/south side portions of the track.

IN FACT........ we have all raised two thousand, one hundred and forty nine dollars!!!!! (I like writing it out because it's SO LONG!!!!) That's $2,149, or enough money to give FORTY THREE people clean water for their entire lives. You guys, this is phenomenal. I never thought I'd make it to my initial goal of $1310, and we surpassed it by almost $1000.  Huge incredible thank yous to last week donors: Kevin, Greg, David, Dan and Rachel, Jenny and Casey, and Aunt Becky. You guys made me feel so good, and we made it!

I would also like to thank (again) everyone who donated, sent me emails of support, gave me kind words of encouragement, prayed, or did anything else during this long travail. It was a momentous journey, but it is now over. I am looking forward to having more time to sleep, live, work, and play with all of you. Most of all, I am incredibly proud of myself for running the dang thing, and for sticking with something even though I had determined it was not for me. I can now cross it off my bucket list, and most importantly I will always conquer my own doubts and fears.

One Week More

This post was going to be devoted to happy things, since I feel like I've been a downer the last couple of times. But some crazy business has gone down in the last week, and I feel like I need a moment to PSA.

Before you read any further, take a minute to introduce yourself to taper madness. This excellent article (which gives great insight to people who are supporting marathoners as well as those of us running the race) shed some light on the fact that I have gone coo-coo-cachoo in the last couple of weeks. Like legitimately bonkers folks. 

My friends who were just pregnant kept talking about baby brain, and my head has been equally foggy and frustrating. I can't remember my normal schedule, can't keep track of things that I do every day, and while I am normally hyper organized and clean right now everything feels like it is going to shambles around me. I am panicking more often than not, and had no idea that it was normal (or at least expected).

For the record, I have done four of the five things on the article's list (because getting lost on the course would just be impossible), and wish someone had told me a month ago that I was supposed to warn my loved ones a month before the race and tell them I would lose my sanity and they would all hate me.

The article also describes taper madness as "unpleasant." That is vastly understated.

So just know that taper madness is a thing, and that we deal with it, and you have to too, because you know us. 

This ends the PSA portion of our programming. Now back to your regularly scheduled silly pictures.

Fo Realz, Mr. Turtle.

Because I'm mad for tapers!

It's gonna be my pace.

Please don't, Mr. Gossling (pleasepleasedon'treallifeboyfriendJeff).

In other news, I collected the check for my birthday party/fundraiser that I held on September 28th. Folks, we raised $250 from the raffle and $609 from the charity power hour. That is un-freaking-believable. I am so incredibly proud of everyone who donated, and extremely grateful (especially to Jeff, who provided most of the friends). So from the total $859 we raised we will be able to give seventeen people clean water for their entire lives!!

I've smashed my initial goal of $1310 (fifty dollars - or one person - for every mile I run) and am hoping to reach $2000 by race day. Guys, it's only $216 more than where I am right now.

So please, if you have been following, enjoying, or stumbled upon this blog and you have not been able to donate yet, consider doing so in this last week. Even just a little bit will help me get those last dollars in. Donate here, and feel free to enter any amount under $50 in the "other" slot. 

Thank you for joining me on this crazy journey. Thank you if you have donated. Thank you if you have given me hugs, rubbed my feet, or listened to me cry about this experience in any way. You are all wonderful, and I would not have made it this far without any of you. I am taking you all with me on race day, and the next time you hear from me it will all be over. And hopefully with very, very, good news.