by Tennille
The day began at an early 3:00 am when David's alarm went off in the Chicago South Loop hotel room on West 26th Street. David got up to start his getting-ready-for-a-long-run morning routine. I tried to fall back asleep, waiting for my alarm to wake me in another hour and twenty minutes. A few moments later I checked the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed. I tried to snuggle with my feather pillow for just a while longer but my mind was already up and getting dressed. I fought another thirty minutes then decided I might as well join it.
The next moments were calm and methodical. Get dressed. Pin my hair back. Sunscreen. Makeup. Did I have everything?
Watch, check.
Sunglasses, check.
MP3 player, check.
Goo, check.
Cliff blocks, check.
Chapstick, check.
Breakfast time. The breakfast of champions: can of V8, peanut butter CLIF bar, banana, sip of overnight-soaked chia seeds.
Am I ready?
Okay, I'm ready.
We left the hotel at 5:15 am and hopped in the cab a hotel attendant whistled down. We were off to Grant Park, Chicago.
There we met Ron and Lynda du Preez who had kindly picked up our registration packets for us the Friday previous. We chatted at their parked SUV while David and I pinned our numbers on and circled our time chips around our shoe laces. Were we ready? Ready or not, it was time to begin walking towards the starting corrals. But not without a pit stop at the port-a-potties along the way.
We found our places in the "regular people" corral. There were corrals ahead of us for the elite runners who would begin the race. Within our non-elite corral, David stayed back with the 9-minute pacers while Ron, Lynda and I wove our way through the crowd to get as close as we could to the front. Since we would be walking, and because there was a (non-enforced, we found out later) 6:30 time limit on the marathon, we wanted to ensure we were as close to the start line as possible.
It was 7:00 am. The race would begin in thirty minutes.
We downed a pack of goo.
I drank the remaining swallow of my gatorade.
The national anthem played.
The gun sounded.
And we started forward. Seven minutes later, we reached and crossed the start line.
And the rest of the marathon went something like this:
Mile 1: Jogged under a bridge. Was aghast at the numerous male runners lined up against the wall to relieve themselves. Wishing I was free to join them. I was regretting that last chug of gatorade. Feeling great physically. Can't believe I've hit a mile already.
Mile 2: Almost ran into the Starbucks along the course to use the bathroom. Saw a line of runners already there. Nevermind.
Mile 3: Obsessing about a port-a-potty. Sent Ron to go scouting. Came back with the news it would only be .25 miles until the first official potty-stop along the route. Used it, got behind approximately 4 minutes but feeling like a new person.
Mile 4: Noticed we were keeping up with the man in a polar bear outfit.
Mile 5: Obsessing over gaining back my lost time is helping ease my nerves. The time and miles seem to be going by fast.
Mile 6: Read "toenails are over-rated" on a spectator sign. Truly loving the cheers.
Mile 7: Saw a man running with a fake leg. Was inspired.
Mile 8: Walked/jogged through a park where Ron saw women runners squatting behind small bushes that didn't hide them very well.
Mile 9: Said a sad goodbye to Ron and Lynda, who sent me on ahead of them as Lynda's leg was beginning to hurt. (They did go on to finish!)
Mile 10: Was serenaded by Elvis Presley.
Mile 11: Feeling really good. Thinking about how I am in the CHICAGO marathon! Wow! This just might be one of my favorite days of my life.
Mile 12: Only twelve? Come on, where is that halfway mark?
Mile 13: Aaah... Halfway! Wait... HALFWAY! Mercy...
Mile 14: Legs and feet are starting to hurt more than just slightly and the temperature is getting up there. I put on my MP3 player. Ate a CLIF block.
Mile 15: I am doubting. Then talk myself out of it. Come on, I've walked 16 miles in training. I can at least make it to 16 again.
Mile 16: Overwhelmed with the idea of another 10 miles. Where is Ron and Lynda? I need them. I don't know if I can do this anymore. 20. I can make it to 20 miles. At least 20 miles.
Mile 17: This stinks. It's hot. I'm achy. I'm hungry. I down half a CLIF bar.
Mile 18: My legs hurt from hips to toes. Passed a woman limping. I wanted to tell her "It's not worth it. Don't worry. You can quit. It's not worth it." Decided I had better not.
Mile 19: This is the worst day of my entire life. Ate another CLIF block.
Mile 20: I can do six more. Just two more loops on the route around my house. Two more 3-mile loops.
Mile 21: Passed a woman crying. Man had his arm around her. He told her "you can do this. You are almost there." Another woman pitched in "you're almost there, don't quit now." Part of me wanted to encourage her too, and part of me said "almost there? There's five more miles of this torture!!" I kept quiet.
Mile 22: My legs ache. My feet ache. It's all I can do to keep a 15 minute mile pace. It must be at least 100 degrees out here! Ate another CLIF block.
Mile 23: Now I'm feeling like I'm almost there. Until I see a sign that says, "Only another 5k!" Mercy... that doesn't help. Downed a goo pack.
Mile 24: Pain, pain, pain. Start obsessing over my finish time. Am cutting it too close.
Mile 25: I gotta push through the pain if I'm going to make it under 6:30. I grit my teeth and start jogging. It feels good to use different muscles but the heat and energy-exertion warms me to near heat-stroke feeling levels. Ouch! It hurt to go back to walking.
Mile 26: Can it be!??! I start running. Nothing can stop me now.
Mile 26.01: I stop. Maybe I should wait a little longer before "sprinting" to the end.
Mile 26.1: Nothing can stop me now!
Mile 26.2: Oh sweet finish line!
I raise my hands as I cross, a big smile on my face. 6:28.
And then: the most anti-climactic moment I could think of.
It was over.
I was on the other side of the finish line.
With a bunch of strangers.
And aching hips. thighs. calves. ankles. arches. toes.
Wondering, why did I just do that?
And (sorry), truthfully (really sorry), at that moment (really, really sorry to everyone who has run a marathon and found it to be wonderful and exciting, and everyone else who has imagined feelings of grandeur thinking about training and running your own marathon and crossing that beautiful finish line) I actually thought these exact words: "that was dumb."
My only consolation? Meru. At least I "ran" for Meru.
P.S. I have to say that in the days following, I look back and am glad. Glad that I finished the Chicago Marathon, one of the largest marathons in the world with arguably the best crowd of spectators in the world. 40,000 runners. Blistering 90 degree heat. And the "date to motivate" 10-10-10. Did you know that I'm in the less than 1% of the population who has completed a marathon!? Does it sound like I'm trying to talk myself into excitement? =)
Next year? I'll be your cheerleader.
Kidding.
But, I am staying inspired by Born to Run.
This might, unfortunately, be addicting.
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