Marathon Recap!

Oh man, I feel like a total jerk because I haven’t posted here in such a long time. I know you and my parents are the only people who read this, but I feel bad, regardless. Thanks for checking back in with me.

The Chicago Marathon was last weekend, and I can’t believe it was ONLY just over a week ago. I also can’t believe it was ALREADY over a week ago. I ran for the first time today and felt like 3 miles while watching a deeply bad Netflix movie was the best I could do. How did I run that times 8 a week and a half ago? The human body is marvelous in its secret ways, isn’t it? It takes 18 weeks to get into the right shape and just over a week to get out of it.

This was marathon #2 for me, having run on the Cal’s Angels team for the Chicago Marathon last year as well, and I say with confidence that one race’s worth of experience made a huge difference going into the second one. I was still nervous, but all of the anxiety I felt last year was related to the unknowns: how would I feel at mile 20, would I be overwhelmed by all of the noise and people, would I really be prepared for such a long race, etc. The answers to those questions were no longer unknown (terrible, yes, and yes and no being the respective answers to those particular ones), and I trusted that my training would allow me to finish the race. The anxiety I felt before the race this year was closer to nervousness, which probably isn’t anxiety at all. I just wanted to do well.

I felt so strong in the first few miles, running with my sister, seeing family members and friends cheering for us. Then, I needed to stop slightly urgently. I made it to the row of port-a-potties in time, but those were a few precious moments lost. I ran few miles feeling great and right on the pace I trained for when I found I needed to stop again. More time wasted. I was a little like WTF is going on? Then, around halfway, I needed to stop AGAIN, and this time, it was a very busy at the line of potties, but I knew better than to chance running for the next bank, which was probably another mile along the course. I had to wait a minute or two for an open hut, afraid to imagine the horror that probably awaited me inside this far into the race, but when someone stepped out and I stepped up, a SPECTATOR CUT ME. Yes, that is worth the all-caps. A man (of course) in jeans and sneakers walked right in without even the decency to look around sheepishly. His spectatorial pooping was obviously the most important thing happening in his mind, and he didn’t care that 50,000 were running past. Maybe he really saw the sarcastic “Worst Parade Ever” and “Where’s Everyone Going?” signs and thought to himself, “Yeah, I wonder what’s going on? Oh thank God, a bank of port-a-potties!” But I suspect he was just a selfish asshole in the sea of kind and giving people who were out in force in Chicago that morning.

Determined not to let the lone jerk ruin my experience, I instead choose to focus on the Cal’s Angels team members I got to meet in real life for the first time the day before and morning of the race – beautiful souls who also helped raise money for Cal’s, the charity that’s grown even more dear to us this past year. I feel so lucky to have been on what came to feel like a real team leading up to this race. I also choose to think about my family – sister running with me, husband and kids chasing around the course on the trains to see me at different spots, Mom and Dad coming in from out of town and supporting us before, during and after as they have always done. I also had so many friends go to the course: My sister-in-law and her family’s excellent handmade posters! My neighborhood running buddy and her sister hugging me at mile 8! My neighbors going to two different spots to yell and take pictures! One of my oldest friends and her family meeting me at mile 22 with graham crackers! Oh, and TWO of my former rowing athletes, one of whom I saw randomly during the race (what are the odds, right?) and another I saw in the post-race meeting area afterwards! I hugged so many people during this race and felt so much love, how could I not decide to do it again?

So I’m doing it again next year. I’ll be smarter about food leading up to the race and fuel I take during the race. I knocked the training plan out of the park this year, so I’ll do that again. I’m so pleased to say I made it through the whole thing without injury, aside from spraining my ankle in like week two. Dumb. But that was from basically falling off a sidewalk, not from overuse. I think I can avoid an injury like that in the future with a little more care. And I can keep my focus on how thankful I am that the boys are healthy, we’re all doing well and moving on from cancer, and we can keep giving back in every way we can. Running marathons feels like the least I can do to say thank you.