The Finish Line

Chicago Marathon. Today I did it.

First, let me transcribe my written thoughts from last night:

Saturday, Oct. 10, 2009 10:36 p.m.
I am lying in bed at Katie's condo, about to go to sleep. When I wake up I will pull on my pre-planned clothes, eat the same breakfast I do every morning – 2 pieces whole wheat toast with peanut butter and cranberry honey – and run 26.2 miles.

In a lot of ways this past week has felt like the week before my wedding. I've been planning for tomorrow for months. I've gotten everything in place. I've preserved my body this week, freaking out about every sniffle and cough. People ask me if I'm ready and I'm not really sure what "ready" feels like because I've never done this before. I'm excited, and strangely not nervous. And I feel like tomorrow will somehow change me.

In this case, I'll be proving to myself that I can set my mind on a goal and discipline my body to achieve it. I can put myself through the most physical pain I've ever experienced and still push through and survive. This will be a massive physical test, but possibly an even bigger mental test.

I don't know what to expect. I am going to try to stay with the 4:30 pace group. Part of me thinks it will be a mental battle to stay with them, but it will be possible. Part of me is not sure I physically can do it. I will certainly give it my all though. That is my #1 GOAL: GIVE IT MY ALL!

***

The race is over. And I am so incredibly happy and proud to say I obliterated my goal of 4:30 and finished in 4:16:11.

The morning was cool but not unbearable. Peter walked with me to the starting line and left me with a kiss to push through the crowded corral. I spotted the 10-minute pace marker and planted myself near a couple dressed as bananas. The back of the wife's costume said, "Banana finishes Chicago Marathon. Nobel peace prize?"

The body heat of 45,000 runners packed into the corrals kept me warm as I waited for the 7:30 start. As soon as the gun went off, clothing went flying. People threw their warm "throwaway" clothes from the center of the crowd to the perimeters. It rained sweatshirts. The first few miles were littered with gloves, shirts and ear warmers.

I crossed the starting line 10 minutes after the gun and was overwhelmed by the number of spectators and the excitement of embarking on this journey. I just kept looking around, taking in every sight and sound. I couldn't believe it was happening right now.

I sincerely wish I could personally thank every spectator who was on the sidelines of the race, even the guy holding the kU banner (which I booed, jokingly, as I ran by). Their enthusiasm propelled me through. The high fives were the BEST. I felt like I gained actual energy from each one. I had written my name on a piece of masking tape and taped it to my long sleeve shirt I wore over my St. Jude's shirt. I nearly choked up when I heard spectators cheering for me by name as I raced past them. It was an incredible feeling of gratitude and encouragement.

I kept telling myself to slow down during the first 10 miles or so. My GPS wasn't working properly, so I could only pace myself by taking mile splits. Almost every single one was between 9:44 and 9:46, no matter how consciously I tried to slow it down to 10:00. I didn't want to burn out, and since I viewed a 10:18 pace as ambitious this seemed even more ambitious. But it felt so good. My legs felt relaxed and happy at that pace. It didn't feel like work at all. So I stuck with it. I am so glad I did.

The first half of the race flew by. I had a blast high fiving little kids, enjoying Elvis singing on stage, reading all the funny and encouraging posters people held up on the sidelines, jamming to music at aid stations and soaking in the experience. I reached the 13.1 mile mark in roughly 2:07. I was on pace for a 4:15 finish, and that became my new target.

After the halfway point, crowd support thinned for a few miles. I kept my eyes peeled for my family's Nemo balloon but never saw it. The miles seemed to drag by slightly slower, but my pace stayed steady. I tried not to think about how many miles were left, and instead focused on how many I had already run and how great I felt.

Coming into Chinatown, with its mob of supporters after mile 21, I felt like I was struggling for the first time. I convinced myself that I felt awesome and was taken by surprise when I spotted the fam. As planned, my dad ripped off his jacket and entered the course to run with me for the last 5/6 miles. I was happy to have the support and companionship, but I wasn't feeling as chipper as I was earlier. This was the point where I hit my irritable mark – when you've been running so long that you start to get annoyed by absolutely everything around you. And this time, it was my dad.

I could not stand the fact that he was running just slightly ahead of me. I felt like he had cheated, jumping into the race at this point, and it wasn't fair that he was ahead. It made me feel slow, like I had to struggle to keep up. After mile 22, it was a struggle to just maintain my pace and keep moving, so I was in no mood to mentally try to keep up with my father, who had only run 1 - 2 miles at this point. I couldn't stand his loud, bizarre breathing. Again, he'd only been running a few miles – how could it be that big of a struggle relative to the rest of us who had run 23 miles? I couldn't stand his enthusiasm, cheering and dancing when we ran through music while the rest of us struggled to put one foot in front of the other. I was ready to punch him.

Of course none of this was necessarily his fault. I was just irritable and it really didn't matter what he did. Looking back, I do think it was wrong that he jumped in. He ended up crossing the finish line because there were fences up. That bothers me because he didn't do the work to get to the point. It was like cheating – enjoying the glory but not the pain.

But before we talk about the finish, let me just say: the last 2 miles were entirely brutal. I was reduced to chanting in my head "15 minutes left. 15 minutes left," and "I can do it. I can do it," just to keep myself going. I thought about the St. Jude kids whose battles are much longer than 26.2 miles or the 15/14/13/etc. minutes until I crossed the finish line. I thought about my pact to give it my all and not hold back. The 26th mile marker was at the top of a not-entirely-large-but-incredibly-difficult-and-disheartening hill. I felt like I was barely moving as I struggled up it. But at the top, the finish line came into view, down a slight incline.

I was very thankful to have Dad behind me yelling encouragement as I sprinted to the finish. As wrong as I now feel it was for him to run to the finish, I must say my post-race experience was much more pleasant with my dad by my side than it would have been had I been alone, waiting for 20 minutes in the St. Jude tent before the rest of the fam arrived.

I threw my arms in the air as I sprinted across the finish line. I couldn't believe I was done. Immediately I became aware of how much my legs hurt. I hobbled over to grab a heat sheet and then some Gatorade. I took as much food as Dad and I could carry from the runner refreshment area. And despite my stiff legs, I felt awesome! I grabbed a 312 beer and enjoyed it greatly.

The St. Jude tent was lovely. I finally met Kristine, the woman behind the St. Jude marathon experience. They provided food, drink and more beer (eventually I had a Blue Moon – after my barf-a-thon half marathon experience in August who woulda thought I'd be imbibing after 26.2?). I got my first massage, which was more like stretching and loosening up my muscles. It felt amazing and I could go for another right now. Mom, Peter, Lauren, Kevin, Nanie and Pops eventually made it to the tent. Good times '09.

My statz:
5K - 30:25 (30:25) - (5)
10K - 1:00:27 (30:02) - (2)
15K - 1:30:42 (30:15) - (4)
20K - 2:00:47 (30:05) - (3)
HALF - 2:07:22
25K - 2:30:35 (29:48) - (1)*
30K - 3:01:07 (30:32) - (6)
35K - 3:31:40 (30:33) - (7)
40K - 4:02:48 (31:08) - (8)
FINISH - 4:16:11

*My fastest 5K split was in the start of the second half - awesome!

Things I saw:
-Guy in bear costume with sign, "Run faster. A bear is chasing you!"
-Indian (native american) man with one leg. Beating me.
-Guy running in black suit, dressed as one of the Blues Brothers.
-Sign: "Your feet hurt because you're kicking ass."
-Elvis!
-Sign: "You're all Kenyans to me."
-Shirtless dude (it was freezing out for spectators) screaming and cheering.
-Guy: "It's not cold enough for you! You're all animals!"
-Another banana runner.
-Superwoman runner.
-People holding pieces of cardboard with Vasoline smeared on it for runners to use.
-Back of girl's shirt (roughly): "My boyfriend would be running with me but he's serving in Iraq. Run for the 32nd battalion thingie, etc."
-Group of guy runners with thick Boston accents shouting for donations for injured soldiers.
-In Pilsen, signs: "Sí, se puede!"