Chicago 26.2: A Recap of #13

Thirteen is supposed to be an unlucky number and that wasn't lost upon me when I started training for this marathon. This was my second marathon of 2018, my sixth Chicago Marathon, and 13th total overall, and I still can't believe it. Running a marathon is not an easy task.Ever. No matter how many times you do it, it's hard, it's stressful, and ithurts. But I love it, and I keep coming back for more as long as my body cooperates (which actually hasn't been much in the last few years). People constantly ask me why I continue to do them and it's because I truly love running and the purpose and sense of accomplishment it gives me. Sure, there are moments where it totally tears me down and makes me question myself, but there are way more times that it makes me feel like I can tackle anything. And those are the moments I stick around for. 

Marathon training is an 18-week commitment that that I've made many times and has just kind of become a standard part of my summer. When I started this training cycle, I had an amazing long run the first week that I thought was going to set the tone for this whole cycle. I was super pumped. Then on week two, I tweaked my "good hamstring" about four miles into my long run. I knew something was wrong, so I stopped running, called my mom panicking, and took the train home. I iced, stretched, and rested for two more weeks and things seemed to be alright. On week five, I had a good long run and then again on week six I tweaked the same hamstring about three miles into my long run. To say I was annoyed and confused about what was happening would be an understatement. I was leaving for Europe that next weekend and knew I needed it to be good for all the walking (and potential running) there so again, I rested and took time off. I was in Europe for almost three weeks and walked almost 15-20 miles a day and got a couple of 3-4 mile runs in with no problems, but no long distances. When I came back, I was diagnosed with bronchitis. Ugh. So that was another two weeks off because it was really hard to breath, I had a terrible cough, and my chest hurt. So basically I barely got any good mileage the first 11 weeks of my supposed training. I was discouraged, but was still hopeful I would be able to run Chicago come October. Muscle memory and experience had to count for something, right? When I was finally healthy again, I went out for my first real long run in weeks and it went so so well. I had a renewed sense of confidence and modified what was left of my training schedule and made shit happen. I was focused and determined to do what I needed to do to get to that start line. And with just seven weeks of actual training left, I got it done. 

As race day soon approached, my "good hamstring" still wasn't feeling great, but I kept up with my foam rolling, acupuncture, and even did some cryotherapy again. I also stalked the weather as per usual. The temps were looking good for race day, but the rain in the forecast just would not disappear. I've never run a full marathon in the rain and it was looking like this was going to be my first time having to do so. Other than that, the week leading up to the race was fairly normal. I was panicking and anxious all week like I usually do. I consumed an obscene amount of ginger and vitamin C because every sneeze and sniffle was not sitting well with me, especially being surrounded by so many students with colds all week. Friday, while heading to the expo, all my emotions finally came out. On the bus over to McCormick place, I started to tear up (standard) realizing I was about to take on the marathon again. It's just such a humbling distance that nothing can ever be predicted; especially with so little training and not perfectly healthy hamstring. 

At the expo, I walked around, got some samples, took a ton of Biofreeze packets, got a Sparkly Soul headband (my favorite) and looked at some clothing. I never buy any race edition clothing at the expo because I am superstitious that it will jinx me.  Plus, there is so much great stuff there, I want to get it all. Being at the expo solidified how real this thing is and how close I was to race day. 

Saturday it was pouring when I woke up, but I waited it out before going on my two-mile shakeout run and felt really good doing so. I laid around most of the rest of the day and ordered my Lou Malnati's for dinner and was just trying to stay calm. It looked like rain was actually happening so I had to prepare for it. I had a hard time falling asleep that night, but eventually did and soon enough, my alarm went off and it was race day! Eeeeeeek. I got dressed, double checked I had everything I needed and headed over to the start line. It wasn't raining at this point, but I was prepared with extra shoes, my throwaway clothes, a poncho, and an umbrella. I wasn't risking getting soaked and uncomfortable before the race even began. Once at the start area, I made my way to the hospitality tent (that a high school friend was nice enough to get me entry into) where I was able to sit and relax, have no porta-potty lines, and a comfy chair to sit on. But soon enough, it was time to make my way to my corral. Of course, immediately once we made our way into the corral, still about a half hour before the actual start time, it started to rain. I had my fleece, poncho, and hat on, but had just put on my running shoes and didn't want them to get wet before the race even began. The rain wasn't heavy or too annoying and as long as I stayed semi-dry, I was okay. I chatted up an older woman next me and we talked until it was go time. I kept my poncho on the first 100 feet or so and then ditched it and I was on my way. I immediately felt that feeling of "OMG I'm running the freaking Chicago Marathon." I was doing the damn thing. That feeling never gets old and it's one of the reasons I keep doing this over and over. It's exhilarating.

It was now full-on raining, but I was running happy. I was feeling pretty good and holding a good pace following the blue line. We were running through the Loop and even with the rain, the crowds were pretty great. At the second water stop, I saw a friend from high school who was volunteering and got a great high five and was heading toward my neighborhood. I knew I'd see another friend in a mile or so in my hood. Soon enough I was on Lasalle, crossing Division and there was my friend in front of her building cheering for me with a big ole sign. I was so happy to see her. We had a quick hug and I had to get to the other side of the street by the next block to see another friend, who was also standing there loudly cheering with another awesome sign. I knew I was going to see both of these girls and it makes me so happy that they were out there supporting myself and the other runners, especially in the rain. It really means so much to me. I kept on going, super happy and pumped because I was going to see another friend around mile 7.5 too. At this point, it was legit pouring and my headphones had stopped working, but I didn't actually realize it for about a mile or so because I was just so in tune with my surroundings and what I was doing. I spotted my friend in Lakeview and she hopped in and ran with me for a little while cheering and screaming and supporting me like crazy. It was so fun seeing her and once we parted ways, I knew it was going to just be me and the road, with no music, for another 5 miles before I would get to see my parents. Luckily, Lakeview is a really fun part of the course and I almost didn't care that my iPod shuffle wasn't working; I was just taking it all in. Boys Town is notorious for being one of the best parts of the course with the large crowds, the music, and the entertainment It did not disappoint. I even randomly saw a friend sitting in one of the bars along Clark and got a quick hello. 

I finally got my iPod shuffle to start working again, which was a miracle, and I was back on Wells knowing I would see my parents soon in the Loop. On Wells, one of my friends that had been on LaSalle came back over with her sign and energy again and hopped in with me for a couple of blocks. It was once again, so awesome to have the support and the company for a little while. Eventually I was back in the Loop and around mile 12 my calves started to spasm a little. I was about to freak out because it was that feeling where in my next step, it was going to full on charlie horse and it was far too early for this to start happening. I knew my parents would have pickle juice, Aleve, and Tylenol for me when I saw them at mile 13 and couldn't wait. They were in their usual spot yelling and cheering and once I spotted them, I was so super excited. I stopped for a quick second (which I never do), but I needed to take a swig or two of the pickle juice so it could work it's magic and get some encouraging words. I grabbed the pills as well so I could take at my next water stop.

At mile 14, a work friend was waiting and cheering loudly with a big sign, which I needed badly because the pickle juice still hadn't kicked in and I just needed a distraction. Seeing another familiar face would help ease the pain and give me another boost. Finally, around mile 14.5, my calf muscles started to loosen up a bit. I know that the Biofreeze at the aid stations (and the packets I had stored in my pockets) was also helping. I was starting to get to that point in the race where I was feeling comfortable, in a groove, and running well, and had another friend waiting for me at mile 15 for another awesome high five. From this point on, I knew for sure I would be on my own until mile 21 where I would finally see my parents again. I put my mental game on lock and just kept talking to myself and repeating positive mantras along the way. I ran through Pilsen (one of the best parts of the race course as well) and then finally got to Chinatown and began looking for my parents again. As soon as I laid eyes on them, as expected and as per usual, I started crying. I just get so emotional when I see them, and that coupled with the pain I knew I would continue to endure for another 5 miles, I needed that mental boost of just seeing their faces. They also had the rest of my pickle juice, which I needed pretty badly because I could feel my calves and quads starting to get real tight. I knew I'd probably cramp again and wanted to prevent this from happening so I grabbed the bottle from them and chugged the rest of it, finally entering the home stretch. I would see them and the finish line soon enough. 

This is where my mental training comes in. Over the past couple of years, I have worked on this tremendously and have reaped the benefits. I feel like every marathon (or an race for that matter) that I do, my mental game continues to improve. It's all about knowing that the pain will come and how to overcome it. I've developed a few positive mantras over time that work for me, and I just repeat them to myself over and over. It may sound corny, but it's key to be able to complete these time and time again and still feel strong. In a marathon, I am firm believer the last six miles are all mental so being able to just power through is crucial, and that's exactly what I did. 

Soon enough I was on Michigan Avenue hugging the blue tangent line trying to get to that finish line in the shortest and fastest way possible. I got to see my parents one more time at mile 26 before turning on Roosevelt and I had a huge smile on my face making that turn. I promised myself that no matter how much my legs hurt or cramped, I would not walk going up that final hill. And I kept true to myself and powered up that hill and made that last final turn with the finish line in sight. This is usually when I start crying again out of sheer pride, exhaustion, relief, and excitement, but this time, I was super calm and relaxed. I gave one or two Shalane Flanagan "Fuck Yeah's" to myself those final 100 meters and I ran across that finish line with that same gigantic smile plastered on my face. I felt so strong and so proud, and even though I felt I had to prove something to myself this marathon because of having to defer last year, I think that I knew I didn't have to let it all out at this moment; that for once, I could just bask in what I just did instead of breaking down immediately. However, once I saw my parents after the race, I sobbed into my mom's arms for a solid minute, and then got myself together. I made the realization that I was a mother-fucking-13-time- marathoner and I was just ecstatic. No more tears necessary.  

For whatever reason, I didn't put an enormous amount of pressure on myself this race. It's very unlike me. Very. I knew I wasn't going to PR after only seven weeks of training, so maybe it was that. I knew this wasn't a comeback race like the Illinois one in the spring was, so it could have been that. But who knows why I was relatively mellow about this race. Running a marathon is always a huge freaking deal in my opinion because of the commitment and the difficulty of it all, but this one just felt different. I still can't put my finger on it, which is also probably why it took me so long to get this recap done (and not done all that well), but I'm hoping I can pinpoint it soon enough. It's been almost a full week since I crossed that finish line for what was thankfully NOT an unlucky race and I already can't wait to do it again, god willing. Thank you to those that continually supported and encouraged me through this whole process yet again. It is more appreciated than you know, and I am grateful for it. After a week of rest, I'm ready to get back out on the path and get back to it!