In the bag

I ran in the Chicago Marathon yesterday. Everyone always told me through this whole training process that I'd get "the bug" once I finished it the first time. I kept shooing them off saying that this was the only shot I wanted and that I would not spend another summer going home early on Saturdays and waking up early on Sundays to run miles with strangers. I see where people are coming from now though. Selective retention or memory suppression is an amazing human faculty. After yesterday's glorious experience, I can barely remember the prolonged pain and inconvenience that filled the last 4 months of my life.

Yesterday was amazing! I woke up at 5am, took a cab south in the dark to the Congress Plaza Hotel where my parents stayed. They walked with me to the start line where I had to wait for 50 minutes in a shoulder-to-shoulder pack of strangers. In that time, I conversed with members of a 4:30 pace group. I decided to run with them until mile 22 (ideally). The group leader (Jerry) held an enormous 7 lb., 5 ft. sign for the entire race. Unbelievable.

The first 14 miles were a breeze. I felt energized by the crowd and by the friends and family I saw on the sidelines. A particular moment of energy was seeing Andrew at mile 8 .... having done the marathon himself, he displayed a very authentic passion that buoyed me immediately. I cut diagonally through the crowd to slap the crap out of his hand. Cowbells rang constantly. At mile 13.4...just over halfway, I saw Dan, Sara, and my parents. This was the third or so time my parents had caught me. I felt great, and I knew I looked great. I gave them two big thumbs up and smiled real big. Their enthusiasm gave me instant relief/energy. I felt their energys' impact on my body so directly. It was awesome, and I kept running....

After the halfway point, the course veers south and there is very little shade. It was also getting later in the day, and the temp was in the mid-high 70s. At about mile 16, I felt the difficulty jump a noticeable notch. The pace I was running at with the pace group started to feel slightly faster than before when it was exactly the same. The pace leader shouted mantras in a militaristic fashion, "You've worked too hard!....you've worked toohard!... if it were easy, everyone would do it!...you're tougher than that....you're tougher than that...you're tougher than that" I battled through...even as 10 of 12 pace group leaders had dropped off due to heat or exhaustion. Then, the wall....

I'm astounded and awed by how instantaneously "the wall" hit me. I'd always heard about this so-called wall...the moment you feel like you cannot continue on under any circumstance. My legs immediately felt like cement. It's like my body was recoiling in dramatic fashion saying, "You weren't listening to me the last 4 miles when I said I didn't want to do this, so I'm telling you definitively." I was around mile 19.5 when I hit the wall. I began to lose my pace group...the big red pace sign lumbered further and further ahead of me..which was a disappointing reality. At mile 20, I could not FATHOM in my head how on earth I could possibly finish this distance. We were still on the South Side and had yet to reach our southern-most turnaround point (the White Sox stadium). 6.2 more miles is a lot to ask for after 20.

The next 6 miles were visions from hell. People began dropping out right and left. Many walked. I passed a lady who had pooped all over herself. Maybe light pink shorts weren't the best pick. I glanced at my shadow and noticed how strange and injured my stride looked. This is not to say I couldn't feel it too; I could. I negotiated with myself for the next 3 miles...pushing my personal time bar higher and higher...."It'll be okay if I finish in 4:35." And moments later "I'll give myself until 4:37". Spectators thinned out around 23mi as most like to be by the finish line at that point.

I ran the final 2 miles stretch at an extremely slow pace. In training, I consistently ran an 8:45 mile. Now, I was lucky to
complete a mile in 12:00. I was soaked in water I had poured all over myself. I had moments where I resisted tears. At the final .2 mile stretch, there is a cruel and brutal hill. Luckily, doubling down when defeated is my forte...I attacked the hill as best as I could. Sara and Dan were waiting at the top just as I rounded the turn to the finish. Their encouragement was 20x more helpful than a drink of water would have been. They smiled huge, screamed my name, and jumped up and down telling me I was almost there.

I rounded the turn and found I had a little sprint left in me. I reclaimed a bit of form as I painfully strided to the finish line. My parents were there with a big bouquet of pink flowers, and my dad captured it on video. RELIEF! Finished! I had joy tears underneath my sunglasses, feeling so thankful for having gifted myself in this way. What a gift! What an experience! This is what it means to be living well.

I hurt now. I cannot walk save for a pathetic two-legged limp. I am real bruised in 3 places on my pelvis where my Gu was stored, and there are red scabs in the shape of a sports bra on my chest and back. This will fade before Wednesday though. My family and friends were awesome spectators and provided necessary support. Mmmmm....this was a delicious occasion.....and I earned it. As long as I live, I'll never squander the equity I built yesterday. I received more congratulatory texts than I get calls on my birthday. People came out of the woodwork to wish me well. It feels great.

I'm not going to work today. Celebration time. I'm excited to get to be a fun person again. I think I'll go to some late night bars this weekend...

Ow.

I will tell you about it tomorrow.

20 mi.

20 miles is a long way to run. How do I know? My body is screaming it.

I was scheduled to participate in a 20-mile group run on Sunday morning. I hung out with some friends Saturday night who convinced me to stay out longer than I planned. I'm a sucker for comraderie, so I gladly stayed. Around 9pm, I decided to stop drinking. I should have kept drinking. Once I was in bed, my anxiety prevented me from falling asleep. I had to wake up at 4:30am to make it to the group run, so around 2:30am and still tossing and turning, I threw in the towel.

My regret of having skipped out itched badly enough to run the 20-miler on a Monday night, with a slight cold, and in the dark with my friend Carrie. We made it. Done. And though I am sore and sick as a dog, I feel great. Now I can sleep.

This is the journey.

Ran 7 miles home from work this evening.

As I sat in the plush office of my company's President encouraging her to donate to the American Cancer Society, I heard myself say, "I'm learning. I've never fundraised before, so I'm figuring out how to do it." The words flew out of my mouth, and I realized something in the midst of my nervousness....

There's so much pressure to be instantly confident, to spontaneously master a skill. I've certainly pressured myself to be intellectually dexterous, be the best communicator, be athletically more inclined, etc. and still make it seem like it's all a breeze for me. People do it all the time. Sometimes it's nice to acknowledge that things take work. Most of my skills are not instincts. Some are. The rest are learned. And as I'm learning, I don't want to focus so steadfastly on the end goal that I gloss over the struggle and the insecurity preceding it. That's been a great part.

Brown Shoes

5 quickie miles up Sheridan tonight. 20-miler this Sunday in the A.M.

I'm ready to go. I want to run this. My shoes are worn.

At the beginning of some of my runs, I have a burst of uncontrollable excitement. I run really really quickly for a first mile. I'm so happy to have made myself get out there and do it. The wind and the rhythm feels new every time. I love that first burst, but I know how to pace out shortly thereafter. This initial effort is not conducive to good overall pacing except that I've accepted it as part of me and so have incorporated it into my running strategy. I used to get mad at myself for my early, overwhelming enthusiasm, but I've decided to forgive myself and get over it.

If you want to track me during the marathon, go to http://www.doitsports.com/results/MSG-signup.tcl?sub_event_id=2161 and sign up. It'll let you know when I cross 10 different thresholds spaced out along the course.

Big gulps, huh?

I made it through yesterday. 18 miles ...in one big gulp.

I had plans with a friend to play tennis today, and I was signed up for a 5k this morning...but neither one has happened. My knees and joints are so sore I can hardly walk. Last night, I went to the bar to watch Mizzou whoop up on SEMO only to leave early because of my throbbing legs. Ouch.

As my training inches closer to culmination and with my body acting as a constant reminder, I'm starting to notice its cumulative effects on my mind. In life, I tend to do things quickly. While deftness at high speeds allows me to master some things, it impairs my ability to be successful at others. This marathon training makes patience a goal in itself. Instead of using patience as a tactic to achieve some other objective... lucid patience becomes the goal. Ironically, I am more peacefully confident and relaxed than I can remember being at any other time. Because I am forced to accept my physical self as is, I am more open to accept my metaphysical self. I am more open to accepting the limits and the realities of others as well. I am satisfyingly helpless.

Maybe I make too much of a few months of marathon training. But this is what I do. I make big deals out of daily things. I put a lot of weight on everything I see, do, hear, etc. This is how I keep learning and growing, and it's how I prefer life to be.

But we an imperishable...

Today, I left my pencil skirt, pearls and heels in a bag under my desk and ran just under 6 miles straight home from work. As I was running, I thought of the Corinthians quote below. It happens to be one of my favorite Bible quotes...let's say Top 10, and well, today was the first time in my training that I remembered it. So, here it is...

"Run so as to win. Every athlete exercises discipline in every way. They do it to win a perishable crown, but we an imperishable one. Thus I do not run aimlessly; I do not fight as if I were shadowboxing. No, I drive my body and train it, for fear that, after having preached to others, I myself should be disqualified. " ~ 1 Corinthians 9:25-27