Coming into 2016, I wasn't planning on doing a full marathon. I keep meaning to take a year just to dedicate to speed and half marathon distance at most-now my 2017 plan. So all of you runners out there better not come and try to peer pressure me into running a full with you this coming year because I have plans, people!
But-when two of my sweet running friends mentioned entering into the Chicago Marathon lottery, I said-well, what they heck? I only had a 50% chance of getting in anyway, so highly doubted I would even be chosen. After finding out we all three made it into the lottery system, training kicked in full swing. I began training on my family beach vacation, completely high from the idea of running with my friends in such an amazing place.
For whatever reason, training for this marathon was much different than all my others. Perhaps part of it was that I am pushing myself more than ever pace wise and so that comes with totally new obstacles on top of the already long distance. All previous marathon training has been laid back and easy. This was marathon #8 for me, so I went in feeling like some sort of pro (certainly not, obviously) but as time went on, the training got tougher. To start, I had that random foot problem for a few weeks that I was afraid would put me out of the race. Foam rolling, icing, compressing, elevating, stretching, cross training, etc. all got me through that issue-though the tenderness came back mid race this weekend and then mysteriously went back to hell where it came from afterwards (hooray).
I know that this season of life is by far the busiest season I have ever had. I'm not whining because I actively choose to do everything that I do and I LOVE all the things I am privileged to participate in-but hell, training for a full marathon amidst my already insane life was pretty rough. I was often overly drained and under-rested for my training runs and by the end of training I think my immune system was shot to hell. Granted, my longest training run (22 miler) felt amazing. That was a nice confidence boost and the average pace was right on target.
To the important stuff:
Chicago is a beautiful city-there's no doubt about it, but I can tell you that I don't truly appreciate city living. I could live forever without visiting all the big cities, pushing through disgruntled people, waiting in all the lines and feeling like a fish out of freaking water. If it weren't for the company, I would have been extremely home sick. Side note-the expo is freaking great, so there's that.
The crowd support IS as huge as people say it is-you literally feel like you're at the finish line the entire race because there are over 1 million spectators (literally) on the sidelines throughout the entirety of the race. There are 40,000 plus runners, which also means 40,000 plus paper water cups every mile or so for you to nearly trip over. There was also a banana station-just picture a cartoon Britney trying not to slip on a thousand banana peels mid marathon. Yeah.
Through Mile 15 I felt pretty incredible and already had a PR in the bag, but after that my body was screaming at me that it was tired-so, so tired. My body had felt worn down like it was coming down with something a day or two before the race, but I had come too far to back down, so I took vitamin C and chugged through, hoping that good sleep, carbs and hydrating would do the trick. Ha, false. Even though I was running my fastest time yet, my body was revolting. I became extremely disoriented, drank 5 plus bottles of water and still couldn't get enough to drink. I normally don't hydrate nearly that much-just ask anyone who runs with me. The weather was perfect, cool and breezy, yet my body was reacting like it was in the summer heat. Each time my partner and I would go through a tunnel, I felt like I could fall over, kind of like the most disturbing tunnel scene in Willy Wonka that you could imagine.
I pushed as hard as possible to the finish despite the rebellion of my own body. I am not a quitter, it's just not a trait I have in me. I finish whatever I start and I dictate when enough is enough. I do not let my feelings dictate if I will reach my goals or not and despite my collected and cool personality, when it comes to running-I am extremely competitive, but mainly with myself. I have always enjoyed overcoming my own mental blocks and physical limits, and despite everything, Chicago was no different. Chicago's finish line was like a break-through, a birth. It was so painful, each step of the last 6 miles was a tearing, a crowning of my own stubbornness and strong will. I believe that runners are the strongest people, not because I am one or because I think we are above people who don't run or don't like to run. I believe it because I have experienced great pain off and on the road and those that share miles with me show more strength than anyone I know. I have seen the pain in a fellow runner's face on the course, barely able to walk, yet stumbling to each mile marker. I have ran through the most painful moments of my life. I have ran through divorce. I have ran through thinking my father was going to die. I have ran when I had nothing left. Runners take their pain and use it to their advantage. That is the strength of the runner.
Each marathon I run, I finish it, because even amidst the greatest pain, I look back on my life, everything that hurt me and continues to hurt me, and I refuse to let the pain win. I see the struggles, the adversity, the victories, the people who have loved me and also the people that just sucked and I realize I am stronger than all of it. I am stronger than them. I let the words of a recent adversary echo in my head and I decided to rise above what was said to me. I decided to rise above the voice that degraded me as an individual, the voice that tried to knock me down as a parent to my boys, the voice that has ever made me feel out of place, any voice that tried to tell me you don't belong in this race. Wrong. I not only belong, I am meant to dominate.
So I bit my lip, let fire fuel me once again and pushed through.
After crossing the finish line and finding my partner, I felt my body break. My vision blurred, my legs gave out and I hovered over the nearest recycle bin (probably not the kind of recyclables they wanted). I became "that girl" that gets carried to the medic tent to suck on Gatorade, prop her feet up and gets asked in 500 different ways if she knows where she is.
Don't worry, I think I just ran myself into the ground and I am totally fine. My body served it's purpose and landed me my fastest time yet, despite the hell it took to get it. I was extremely angry with my body at first for forcing me to lean on two strangers to make it to a medical cot, but days later I can look back and smile. I look back and I see one freaking badass chick who doesn't quit, even when her feet go numb, her hands tingle, her vision becomes impaired. When others might have pulled to the side, that girl pushed through-that girl only listens to the voice that matters, the voice that tells her keep going, you belong here.
Coming into 2016, I wasn't planning on doing a full marathon. I keep meaning to take a year just to dedicate to speed and half marathon distance at most-now my 2017 plan. So all of you runners out there better not come and try to peer pressure me into running a full with you this coming year because I have plans, people!
But-when two of my sweet running friends mentioned entering into the Chicago Marathon lottery, I said-well, what they heck? I only had a 50% chance of getting in anyway, so highly doubted I would even be chosen. After finding out we all three made it into the lottery system, training kicked in full swing. I began training on my family beach vacation, completely high from the idea of running with my friends in such an amazing place.
For whatever reason, training for this marathon was much different than all my others. Perhaps part of it was that I am pushing myself more than ever pace wise and so that comes with totally new obstacles on top of the already long distance. All previous marathon training has been laid back and easy. This was marathon #8 for me, so I went in feeling like some sort of pro (certainly not, obviously) but as time went on, the training got tougher. To start, I had that random foot problem for a few weeks that I was afraid would put me out of the race. Foam rolling, icing, compressing, elevating, stretching, cross training, etc. all got me through that issue-though the tenderness came back mid race this weekend and then mysteriously went back to hell where it came from afterwards (hooray).
I know that this season of life is by far the busiest season I have ever had. I'm not whining because I actively choose to do everything that I do and I LOVE all the things I am privileged to participate in-but hell, training for a full marathon amidst my already insane life was pretty rough. I was often overly drained and under-rested for my training runs and by the end of training I think my immune system was shot to hell. Granted, my longest training run (22 miler) felt amazing. That was a nice confidence boost and the average pace was right on target.
To the important stuff:
Chicago is a beautiful city-there's no doubt about it, but I can tell you that I don't truly appreciate city living. I could live forever without visiting all the big cities, pushing through disgruntled people, waiting in all the lines and feeling like a fish out of freaking water. If it weren't for the company, I would have been extremely home sick. Side note-the expo is freaking great, so there's that.
The crowd support IS as huge as people say it is-you literally feel like you're at the finish line the entire race because there are over 1 million spectators (literally) on the sidelines throughout the entirety of the race. There are 40,000 plus runners, which also means 40,000 plus paper water cups every mile or so for you to nearly trip over. There was also a banana station-just picture a cartoon Britney trying not to slip on a thousand banana peels mid marathon. Yeah.
Through Mile 15 I felt pretty incredible and already had a PR in the bag, but after that my body was screaming at me that it was tired-so, so tired. My body had felt worn down like it was coming down with something a day or two before the race, but I had come too far to back down, so I took vitamin C and chugged through, hoping that good sleep, carbs and hydrating would do the trick. Ha, false. Even though I was running my fastest time yet, my body was revolting. I became extremely disoriented, drank 5 plus bottles of water and still couldn't get enough to drink. I normally don't hydrate nearly that much-just ask anyone who runs with me. The weather was perfect, cool and breezy, yet my body was reacting like it was in the summer heat. Each time my partner and I would go through a tunnel, I felt like I could fall over, kind of like the most disturbing tunnel scene in Willy Wonka that you could imagine.
I pushed as hard as possible to the finish despite the rebellion of my own body. I am not a quitter, it's just not a trait I have in me. I finish whatever I start and I dictate when enough is enough. I do not let my feelings dictate if I will reach my goals or not and despite my collected and cool personality, when it comes to running-I am extremely competitive, but mainly with myself. I have always enjoyed overcoming my own mental blocks and physical limits, and despite everything, Chicago was no different. Chicago's finish line was like a break-through, a birth. It was so painful, each step of the last 6 miles was a tearing, a crowning of my own stubbornness and strong will. I believe that runners are the strongest people, not because I am one or because I think we are above people who don't run or don't like to run. I believe it because I have experienced great pain off and on the road and those that share miles with me show more strength than anyone I know. I have seen the pain in a fellow runner's face on the course, barely able to walk, yet stumbling to each mile marker. I have ran through the most painful moments of my life. I have ran after leaving a man I thought loved me. I have ran through thinking my father was going to die. I have ran when I had nothing left. Runners take their pain and use it to their advantage. That is the strength of the runner.
Each marathon I run, I finish it, because even amidst the greatest pain, I look back on my life, everything that hurt me and continues to hurt me, and I refuse to let the pain win. I see the struggles, the adversity, the victories, the people who have loved me and also the people that just sucked and I realize I am stronger than all of it. I am stronger than them. I let the words of a recent adversary echo in my head and I decided to rise above what was said to me. I decided to rise above the voice that degraded me as an individual, the voice that tried to knock me down as a parent to my boys, the voice that has ever made me feel out of place, any voice that tried to tell me you don't belong in this race. Wrong. I not only belong, I am meant to dominate.
So I bit my lip, let fire fuel me once again and pushed through.
After crossing the finish line and finding my partner, I felt my body break. My vision blurred, my legs gave out and I hovered over the nearest recycle bin (probably not the kind of recyclables they wanted). I became "that girl" that gets carried to the medic tent to suck on Gatorade, prop her feet up and gets asked in 500 different ways if she knows where she is.
Don't worry, I think I just ran myself into the ground and I am totally fine. My body served it's purpose and landed me my fastest time yet, despite the hell it took to get it. I was extremely angry with my body at first for forcing me to lean on two strangers to make it to a medical cot, but days later I can look back and smile. I look back and I see one freaking badass chick who doesn't quit, even when her feet go numb, her hands tingle, her vision becomes impaired. When others might have pulled to the side, that girl pushed through-that girl only listens to the voice that matters, the voice that tells her keep going, you belong here.
