True, I have yet to have an actual baby. But considering the anticipation of said event and the physicality that comes along with it, I'm going to go ahead and say the comparison is not a stretch.
Thus, my marathon birth story.
*Spoiler alert* I won.
How amazing is this guy? Yup. Running buddy.
Alright, so I didn't quite win it. But I finished. I think my time was 4:37 minutes - give or take.
But let's back up.
I was talked into running this puppy by my friend who has run three other marathons. I love Chicago, I love this friend and I've always wanted to try so sign up we did.
You may recall my trials and tribulations with training. It worked out well, in the end as I was unemployed and could contribute larger chunks of my week to hitting the open road. Then I got injured. Then I recovered. Then I got a job and training got pushed to the back burner but I managed to clock in 18 miles the week before so away I went.
Friend and I had a hotel right by the starting line and after a lovely day of distractions with Chicago friends and a hearty meal with my family who flew in for the even, we made our way up to our room for a short nights rest.
Up at 5:45, we dedicated an hour to stretching and preparations and made it down to the starting line just as they were blocking off some entrances. We squeezed into the 10 minute mile slot along with a couple thousand other people and...walked a crowded slow distance up to the start.
It started off great, as I'm sure these all do. It was a beautiful, if super toasty, day and the crowd was already thick and excited at the 7:30 start. We meandered through the crowd of runners in the loop and made our way up to the lakeside and into my old neighborhoods Lincoln Park and Lakeview. We even passed my old street (twice)!
Lakeview was definitely the most rocking of the neighborhoods, what with Boystown to support the runners in the Trannies-in-costume-dancing-to-Lady-Gaga category.
Friend and I ran side-by-side until about the halfway point. She was having some knee problems and we gradually drifted apart (sniff) until I couldn't see her anymore.
Then I saw my parents. It was somewhere between miles 13 and 14 and my dad popped out of the crowd and ran with me for a moment offering me sips of water and dates. Brilliant. It was also a lovely distraction. He told me they would be around miles 17 and 20, so it was always something to keep me going.
Turning west I tried to keep an eye out for Chicago friends who I knew would be hanging around the Diversey/Greektown area or thereabouts but, sadly, I never saw them. The crowd thinned in parts in the western neighborhoods but there were always people around and I was never not running in a crowd.
Around mile 16 I started to get a pain in my knee - a familiar one, that annoying IT band strain. But it was early and every so often it would go away so I just ran on.
Just as he promised, I saw my dad around 18 and then somewhere in the early 20s when things were starting to go downhill. At this point I was just running through the knee pain but it kind of provided a distraction from the regular old body pain that was starting to present itself with little bursts. I tried to keep up the eating but it seemed the last thing I wanted to do.
The latter part of the course weaves itself around the south side. Whenever I thought we were starting to run back north we'd take another turn and head south again. But it wasn't bad. Ignorance was bliss as I had absolutely no idea what was up ahead.
Between miles 20 and 23 I had this flash of optimism. I was getting down to a handful of miles and the crowd was getting thicker and more supportive. I even braved a sip of beer around 23. I had my ipod sitting with an hour long mix for motivation back up and somewhere around this time period I turned it on. I totally misjudged the type of music I would be up for. Some advice: less 80s and 90s ballads and more Beyonce. I think it was around 22 that 'Halo' came on and I literally got chills as I rounded a corner and saw the loop in the distance. The mix took a dive from there but it was a really nice 2 minutes.
And then 24 hit and there seemed absolutely no possible way that I could run two more miles. Like, none. The crowd was awesome but downtown Chicago just did not seem to get any closer. I was to the point of hobbling with my knee. Actually, when I ran it was better but whenever I stopped for water a shooting pain ran up my left leg.
Also at this point I had no idea how slow I was going. How long was 2 miles? 20 minutes? Please kill me, 40 minutes?
Then I started to see it. The crowd was a mass of color ahead of me. The mileage markers started to count down in kilometers, which helped me gauge the distance not at all. You had to turn right, run up a slight hill and then take a left and head in to the final mini stretch. People were screaming, just yelling their heads off for every runner trying to make it up that mini mountain. At one point I look over and this woman who had already lost her voice yelled, 'You're my hero, I could never do this.' And that got me over the hill.
When I rounded the corner and the giant red finish line was clearly in front of me I started to laugh cry and, I think, said 'oh my god' a few times until I got looks from nearby runners. But, I'm sorry, are you really going to finish this thing in silence?
I crossed the finish line with arms raised, like friend told me too, and totally and completely wept. Man it felt good.
Then it felt terrible and then I was given water and cookies and bananas and bagels and a cape of some sort and told to grin in front of a camera (I can only imagine out framable that one was) and wander TWO miles down to where family and friends would be reunited. That walk must have taken as long as the marathon. I was dazed and limping and feeling slightly ill just trying to retain a tight grip on all the goodies I was shoveled.
Finally, at the designated meet-up spot, I saw my Mom and brother and have never been so excited. They hugged me, sweaty and all, and it was the best moment.
My Dad, who was trying to find me up by the finish line, returned and we compared stories. A little while later, from out of the crowd like a sweaty little angel, appeared friend! She finished despite running on a bum knee for the entire second half of the marathon. I limped up to her and we hugged and both cried and it was hilariously emotional and awesome. We treated ourselves to free massages, very slow showers, a clean change of clothes and a panini and french fries afterward.
It was a crazy experience and I was surprised by the emotions and all I kept thinking is, why would anyone ever want to do this again?
And yet, as the days passed and my aches and pains faded it was really just the anticipation and excitement and shared experience that remained. I tried running the other day and got 10 minutes into a job before my IT band acted up. So it's going to be a longer recovery, but I'm OK with that. I did what I had to do. I finished/won and have my life back now that training isn't a top priority. But with the New York marathon happening this weekend it's hard not to think if maybe that's a possibility sometime in the future.
A long way in the future.
Happy running.
xoL
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