Another 16 weeks

On my run this morning, my second week into marathon training, my mind began to wander as it always does. At eight in the morning it was already 82 degrees and the humidity was at like 80%, so basically, I was miserable. It was way later than I usually run and way hotter and more humid than any normal person likes to run in. Of course, as I was fatigued and sweating like a beast, I began to wonder why I do this to myself. Why do I torture myself with eighteen weeks of training to run one race of 26.2 miles? Um, its because I'm crazy. Duh. Well, that's only half correct. It's also because I loooovvvveee a good challenge, and training for a marathon is always a challenge. It's something that never gets any easier no matter how many times I do it. And baby, this is my eighth time. (Actually my tenth time attempting to train. Two times, I had to bail because of bad Ulcerative Colitis flares.) This year I am running the Bank of America Chicago Marathon. I am taking it back to my roots ten years after where it all began with my first marathon. I look back now and realize I totally didn't know what I was getting myself into or how it would change me.

On October 9, 2004, I ran the LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon. At the time, running a marathon wasn't something on my bucket list or anything or nearly as "trendy" as it is now. I signed up one night senior year of college because I felt fat and gross and needed some kind of goal to get disciplined again. My junior year of college I had lost twenty-five pounds on Weight Watchers and worked out like a fiend and ate ridiculoulsy disciplined. By senior year I had gained almost all of the weight back, lost a lot of confidence because of that and needed a goal to work toward to again that would get keep me motivated. So of course the only logical thing to do was to sign up for a marathon. Duh. Mind you, I had never run any race further than a 5k before but felt that a marathon was totally doable. After all, I had always been an athlete and although I had taken up running as a means of exercise, I had only run a maximum of about eight miles at once. I was a hard worker and knew that with the right training, I would most definitely be able to do this.  I wanted it.

At the time of signing up, (one January night), I had an inkling that I was going to move to New York City for school based on my application to NYU and me loving the city and all, but it wasn't a definite so I just assumed I'd be doing all my training in Chicago because I would never go through with the move. I even convinced my mom to sign up for this race as well as a 50th birthday present to herself. She had been a lifelong runner and had run quite a few half marathons, but never a full. I told her that a running a marathon to ring in 50 would be pretty awesome for her so she signed up too, and even convinced a friend of hers to do it. I am thankful that she enlisted her friend because as we all know, I did end up moving to New York and we didn't get to train together for this marathon at all. I trained in New York City mostly alone but had a running buddy for a few long runs that I met through New York Road Runners. Each time I ran a distance longer than before, I was so proud of myself. Double digit runs became easier and when I first hit 15, then 18, then 20 miles, I was beyond ecstatic. I was impressing myself. I honestly never thought my short little legs would be able to go that distance. But it kept me wanting more. And soon enough, the time came to fly home and run this bitch.

Looking back on the actual marathon, I laugh at what a rookie I was. I wore a cotton gray Illinois T-shirt and light blue soccer shorts. No tech gear. No spandex. My name nowhere in sight for people to cheer me on. Such an amateur. I have since learned from all that. Now I'm all tech gear, neon shirt for people to see me, and my name on the front so strangers can give me the cheering boosts I need along the way. All essential.

I started the race with my mom and her friend and since I was faster than them, I kept going ahead, and then like an idiot would turn around and go back to them so we could run together. I did this for about two miles until I realized that if I kept this up, I would end up running WAY more than the already ridiculous 26.2 so I kissed my mom goodbye, wished her and her friend luck, and was on my way. I was running a fucking marathon. Me. It was nuts. I took it all in and as soon as I passed the 20 mile marker, I was just shocked. I had never run more than 20 miles before and the realization that you are about to do something you didn't deem possible is pretty exceptional. Each mile for the last six, I just kept getting prouder and prouder of myself. This little goal I set on a whim, was becoming a reality, and it looked like I was going to beat the goal of five hours I had set for myself. Of course I cried along the way because that's just what I do. If I could go back and get that feeling of crossing my first marathon finish line, I would. It was just so incredible. (I get a very similar feeling each time I cross one now but nothing can take away from the first time.) I knew from that moment on, I was hooked. I wasn't done with marathons. (I didn't lose the weight I had initially wanted to lose from running, in fact, I packed on a solid ten pounds as I seem to do every training cycle (ugh) but the amazing feeling of crossing the finish line was enough for me keep going back for more.) Since that first marathon, I have run six more and can't seem to quit yet. It gives me something to do. A goal to strive for. I just like working toward something big.

This October I will be set to run my third Chicago Marathon and 8th marathon total. I can't believe it's been ten years since my first marathon but I want this one. Badly. I need this one to be my best. I need that PR. As the heat here in NYC continues to rise and I am in and out of town all summer traveling (yes I know, such a rough life), I just hope the summer training cycle won't be too brutal. I want this too bad.  With a little over sixteen weeks of training to go, I know I will have to put in the work, but I am prepared to do so. Chicago 2014, you are MINE!!!