Chicago 26.2: A recap of #10

Well ladies and gentlemen, I am officially a ten-time marathoner. I'm not gonna lie, that feels pretty great. But thats really the only thing that I am feeling good about right now. My body hurts and I'm pissed about my time. I know that being able to run 26.2 miles one time is a big deal, so ten is great, but this race was just not my race. Not even close. And I can't help but be super disappointed about this.

I had a very different mindset coming into this race than I did last year in Chicago. Last year I was aiming for a PR and walked away without it. (I can't even go back and think about that because it will make me cry.) This year, I knew that a PR wasn't going to happen and and pretty much had expected that. I knew I'd be okay if I finished this race under 4:45. With the feelings of perpetual leg fatigue most of training, putting on ten pounds out of nowhere (stop telling me its muscle from training cause its not), and the whole bladder issue, I knew this wasn't going to be my best race. I also however, did not expect it to be one of my worst. And that sucks. It really fucking sucks.

Big F*%$ing Deal

For the last 17 weeks, I have been training for the Chicago Marathon.

I've been training through the summer heat and humidity.

I've run through DC, Spain, Portugal, Prague, Chicago, Boston, and of course through NYC.

I've been eating lots of carbs (and everything else within a one millimeter vicinity).

I've been hydrating and sleeping excessively.

I've been wearing compression socks for countless hours.

I've been listening to some of the same songs over and over again.

I've drunk a ton of chocolate milk and watermelon juice and Nuun. 

I've been worrying.

I've been crying.

I've been training for a marathon.