I started training for the Chicago Marathon in May and since then I've ran nearly 400 miles in preparation for October 7th, 26.2 miles. You'd think with all those miles under my feet, I'd cross the start line with more than enough confidence to get me through till the finish line (or at least to mile 20). Nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, I was nervous, but more than that I was overwhelming confident I would NOT be able finish. Never before have I doubted myself and my ability so much as I did running a marathon. I have absolutely no idea what propelled me on, other than my sheer determination and fear of failure.
I drove up to my parents house where my mom joined me and we continued to Chicago. We went straight for the expo where I picked up my number, timing chip, and of course bought a 26.2 sticker for my car.
After the expo, we checked into our hotel and headed to my brother's for dinner. I brought my own food and they enjoyed the lovely pie they had bought me for good luck. We left fairly early as I still had to set my stuff out for the next morning and try and get some sleep.
Before I knew it, I was awake, dressed, and on my way to the start line. At this point my nerves were there, but manifested themselves quietly. Since spectators weren't allowed in the starting area, I made my way to the start alone. The front desk worker told me that most people were walking the mile to the start which seemed absolutely crazy to me. I managed to find the nearest subway where I joined hundreds of other marathon hopefuls and one drunk man who argued with us that the marathon started tomorrow morning. Once to the corral, my nerves manifested themselves verbal as I became a chatty kathy who talked to absolutely everyone and anyone that was near me. Finally one girl looked at me and said "I'm so glad you sat down next to me. Talking to you keeps my mind off what we're about to do." That's exactly what I was doing, trying to not focus on the horror before me.
I was in the very last corral and consequently had to wait nearly an hour and half after the elite athletes had started to start my race. They were literally half way finished before I even started! Now, I did just about every single training run in miserable heat so it was quite the shock when all of a sudden on race day it was FREEZING! By the time I started I could no longer feel my feet; it took a full mile before I'd regain feeling again.
Once started I knew my mom and the two most amazing friends were waiting around mile 1 outside our hotel. Sure enough they were there and already cheering! Words can not express how I needed along this course!
Miles 3-10 were the absolute worse! Running is 90% mental and that proved correct during this race. At mile 3, I was already convincing myself I wasn't going to finish. I uncontrollably told myself I was stupid to even try, I was already the last person, and every other negative thought you could think of. I knew I was believing lies and tried to talk more positively to myself, but nothing helped. I got to mile 7.5 and saw my brother. My first words were "I'm not going to finish!" What I needed to hear was "yes you are! you can do this, you've trained for it!!" Instead he said "don't push yourself, if you need to quit it's okay." He meant these as encouraging words, but they deflated me even more.
At mile 11 Courtney (aka the best support system you can have), ran up to me. All I could do was look at her and say "I hurt WAY to much WAY too early in the race!" She immediately ran ahead and got me advil and pushed me along the way. Exactly what I needed!!
The best decision of the race was getting my name printed on my shirt. All of a sudden everyone was my best friend and had come out to cheer for just me. At one water stop the entire group of volunteers chanted my name as I ran through. It. Was. Awesome.
Soon enough I was at the half way point and I got a text from Courtney saying I had finished the first half in 2:56:58 seconds!! I FINALLY did a half under three hours!! This was the encouragement and motivation to keep going that I needed!
Matt and Courtney were at mile 14 where I stopped to use the restroom (added bonus, there was still tolet paper in the port-a-potty!). I saw Matt and Courtney again at mile 16 and I was still feeling pretty good, my legs were kind of tired, but my hipflexers was really starting to hurt and I stopped to stretch a couple of times.
At the corner right around mile 20 there was the whole gang; mom, my brother, Matt and Courtney. As soon as I saw them, I exclaimed "I'M GOING TO FINISH!!" It wasn't until that moment did my thought change from "you are stupid to even attempt this" to "you're actually going to finish a marathon!"
In my head I knew this was the time it was really going to suck....the dreaded wall, but I really never felt it. If anything I hit the wall at mile 3. By mile 20 I had convinced myself I was actually going to finish. Plus, having Courtney with me distracted me and the miles flew by!Courtney somehow became obsessed with this girl in front of us. We'd pass her and a few minutes later she'd be in front of us again. She had about 4 or 5 people who jumped in to support her which was good cause my support was pushing me to beat her!
Once at mile 25.2, I told Courtney I wanted to do the last mile by myself. This had been my race, my accomplishment and I wanted to soak in every moment of the last mile. I bid her a farewell and ran on through the crowds and cheering people. Tears started welling up in my eyes that I had accomplished this. It's weird cause it's more than a physical test. It's a mental game of determination and discipline.I couldn't wipe the smile off of my face as I rounded the last corner and saw for the first time the finish line. The glorious finish line!!
I kept going running as I could. And for goodness sakes making sure to keep that one girl behind me! They were literally taking down the signs as I ran through, but hundreds of people were still there cheer for the very last people to cross the finish.
After crossing the finished I grabbed a mylar blanket and made my way forward. I kept looking for the medals and didn't see any. I asked a couple of people, but no one would say what was going on. One woman started saying how they would mail them to us. Finally, I figured out they had run out of medals and I wasn't getting one. At this point I was already crying, but disappointment isn't a strong enough word to explain how I felt. Ask anyone who runs marathons (or even half marathons), the medal is more than a reward for a long run. It's your motivation, it's what you think about during every. single. training run. You visualize the moment someone puts that shiny, heavy medal around your neck. And, I was robbed of that moment. that feeling. Yes, they were going to mail me one, but it's not the same as walking around with a medal around your neck. A sense of community with the other runners communicating "we did this! we did this together!"
As that sunk in, I made my way to the beer tent. I haven't had an ounce of alcohol since May (technically I had a beer in Haiti in June) and I had been thinking of that cold beer at the finish line for MONTHS. Once to the beer station they told me they too didn't have enough. Just as I began to completely loose it, a guy informed us they just got another keg and were about to tap it. I waited.
Once I reunited with everyone, we toasted the day with champaign and made our way back to the hotel. I felt pretty good, but decided to take the subway again. It wasn't until I was in the subway that I began to start feeling sick.
By the time I made it to the hotel all I could do was lay on the bed shivering. I couldn't move, couldn't eat, couldn't drink. I knew I needed to do something. My mom covered me with blankets trying to warm me up which didn't work. Finally after a warm shower and trying to drink some hot tea I got warm, but I still couldn't eat or drink anything with out getting extremely nauseous. A few hours later my brother determined I needed to go to the ER. I realized that much earlier, but needed someone else to make me go. After two bags of fluid I was feeling much better and could stomach a few crackers and water.
The next day I woke up SORE! Really it was just my right hipflexer that was impossible to move on it's own. I wanted to walk around Michigan Ave. and my mom obliged. After spending WAY too much money on shirts and souvenirs at the expo, I didn't really want to spend anymore money, but couldn't resist a finisher's shirt at Niketown. I mean, if I didn't get a medal to prove my accomplishment, the least I could have was a shirt.
Since that day many people have asked if I'll do another marathon. To be honest, I'd like to. It's addicting; the sense of accomplishment, the feeling of race day and crossing the finish line. But, the sensible side of me things 26.2 miles is crazy by itself. Add the fact that I obviously need an IV at the finish line and it's down right idiotic! So, I'll keep my accomplishments to the 13.1 races and be happy to continue chasing new PRs there.
