It's been a little over a week since Marathon Sunday, and I've been thinking a lot about all things marathon ever since. Because this blog has been a repository of training experiences, thoughts, and feelings, I figured it was worthwhile to write down the recap in case I ever decide to do this again. There are definitely things I will do differently. Warning: This is going to be one looooong read.
I felt my 20-miler went rather well. I was able to run 15 of the 20 miles, but I completed the entire thing. I elected to walk the last five due to the extreme heat and humidity of the day. I am heat sensitive, and I had a flight just a couple of hours after finishing. The last thing I wanted on my vacation was to be fighting the after effects of heat exhaustion instead of lounging around on the beach with fun beverages. So even though I walked at the end, I felt strong and capable of finishing the full 26.
The week following the 20 miler didn't go as well though, as I had a lot of pain in my right knee that only let up after KT taping and resting basically the whole week. But it was taper time, so I figured it should be fine. I maintained my workout schedule but didn't push it too much on the speed or hill workouts to avoid damaging something so close to the race. And while my brain was fully in "Taper Madness", I still felt ready for the big one.
Two days before race day we headed to the expo, which was overwhelming to say the least. Thankfully we had our friend Jon there to help keep us from staying there forever. We purchased the requisite marathon goods, checked in with our charity partner, took a bunch of photos, and headed out after an hour. After a restful afternoon at the hotel, we then headed to the charity dinner (which was super emotional), then headed home for an early night.
The next morning was the Chicago International 5K, a fun run to shake out the legs and greet runners from other countries. I ran it with a few of my CES peeps for a bit, then walked the rest to make sure I didn't overexert before Sunday. The run was a hoot. The excitement of the international runners was so fun to be around; they stopped frequently to take pictures in front of iconic Chicago landmarks, and some dressed up in native costumes. It was the perfect way to shake out nervous energy, and it came with a badass medal and scarf too!
We woke up early on Sunday, and I was filled with excitement and nerves. This was it. The big day. I was ready. The weather was going to be warm (maybe even hot), but I was well hydrated and had stored up enough energy from the weekend's carb fest. All of my race gear was ready to go, and I felt strong and anxious to tackle the course. We made our way over to the race day resort, and met up with our pace group and other runners we had seen along the way. There were lots of pictures, laughter, wishes of good luck, and general good vibes from everyone there. After forcing myself to eat, it was time to go. We walked down the main stairs to cross to the corrals, and when we made it down the stairs, our training group's coaches and volunteers were waiting at the bottom of the stairs to literally cheer us on. They were clapping, cheering, and wishing us good luck. I choked up a bit feeling so thankful for such amazing people and an amazing program. We crossed Michigan Avenue, made our way through security, and headed toward the corral. I stopped reading my good luck texts and Facebook posts because they were making me emotional, and I wanted to be focused. After about an hour in the corral talking to runners, making jokes, keeping warm, and taking pictures, finally we were at the start line. It was time.
Miles 1-5:
The first five miles went so well. I felt loose and strong, and was running at a good stride and pace. The group was staying together and keeping each other motivated. We were laughing at the signs, basking in the crowds, and when we could, chatting about the past two weeks during taper. Fortunately the crowds were so loud and the music booming, so talking was hard, but it all added to the exciting atmosphere and general good time. As we moved out of the loop and up LaSalle, it really hit me that we were doing this, and again I got a bit choked up. But I changed from tears to laughter at the insanity of me actually doing a marathon. I looked down at my arm where I had written, "Enjoy the Ride", and decided there were no tears in marathoning. It was time for the party.
Miles 6-10:
This is where it first started to get hard. The course at this point was very hot with little shade. At one point we saw the temps were in the mid-70s, which is hot for our distance. The crowds really thinned after Lincoln Park too, so I didn't have the advantage of crowd energy to keep me motivated. But I stayed with my group, even though I started to feel hot and uncomfortable. Somewhere near Boystown a guy was handing out popsicles, and we crowded around him like baby ducks to mama. He opened the cooler and we happily cooled down on icy goodness. We passed a guy in a shark costume (turns out Kim was right and there was a risk of sharks on the marathon route!), the all-male drill team, the fantastic drag performers, and a group of super hot gays who yelled all of our names as we went by (me bringing up the rear as "Mother Fucking Diane, Get It!!" <swoon>) I still felt good, and even though I needed to take one additional walk interval, I was able to catch up quickly with my gals and keep going.
Miles 11-13:
Right around Elvis at North Avenue, I started to feel pretty nauseated. I was overheated, and taking in any fuel or water was beginning to get hard. The cooling station in Old Town was a godsend, and I wanted to kiss the person who gave me a cold sponge for my face and head. I immediately squeezed it over my head, only to regret it a minute later when my eyes filled with salt from my sweat. But I was able to get it soaking two more times before tossing it to the side, and cooled down my neck, arms/armpits, and face. It gave me new life. Sadly that life was short-lived because we were again in full sun, and I really started to feel the effects of the heat. I started walking at around mile 12 or so, only to see my friend Peg about a half mile later in the Loop. She ran with me just past the half marathon marker, and it was just the boost I needed.
Miles 14-20:
The wheels really came off the cart here. I was very overheated by this time, and in addition to feeling nauseated and unable to eat, I was starting to have digestive issues too. I had never had this happen on any long run, so I was unsure how to fix what was going on. I didn't feel like I could eat, so I passed on the food that Lynn brought for me around mile 14. I was feeling sloshy, so I didn't want to drink anything, including Gatorade. And I started to really wonder if I could continue. The heat was overwhelming on the route, and the crowds had really thinned. My sister and brother in law showed up around mile 16, and she walked with me until sometime in Little Italy (mile 18?), where I met up with another runner from CES. She (also Diane) and I decided to become Team Diane Squared, both focused on getting each other to the finish line. She was struggling too, but somehow focusing on keeping her going made it easier for me to stay moving. We had both gotten swept by that point, but we were finishing, no matter what. Shortly before mile 20, Lynn and my friend Nanette met me to "bring me home". I was so happy to see them both I was fighting tears. They could see I was struggling, and they kept up a solid walk pace to keep me from stopping. I wanted to make sure we didn't lose Diane and Gloria (another woman who joined Team Diane Squared), so I kept turning around to ensure they were still going. It was only a 10k to go, and I could definitely do this.
Miles 21-26:
I'll be honest, I remember very little about this part of the course. I was so exhausted by this point, overheated and nauseated, and just feeling like I was done. The crowds had mostly left Chinatown, so while there were people still cheering us on, the big spectacles I had hoped to see were done (no dragon dancers for me!) Someone gave me a cold water bottle, and it became my lifeline. Nanette and I gossiped and chatted our way down to Comisky (or whatever it's called now), and over to 35th and Michigan where the CES tent was waiting. Two of our coaches (and many others) cheered me on by name and reminded me with their energy that I was supposed to be enjoying the ride and having fun. I shifted my mood from one of misery to that of elation--I only had a little over 2 miles to go! As I watched the buildings grow closer, it really started to hit me that I did it. I was going to finish this thing, no matter what. As we passed the last water station and counted down the last three stoplights, I felt the overwhelming emotions hit full force. Nanette peeled off to find Lynn at the finish line, and I started up Mt. Roosevelt.
The Finish Line:
As I climbed up that bullshit hill at the end of the route, I started to pick up my walk pace and really marvel at what I had done. As I turned the corner at Columbus, a course marshal called to me "You're home, baby. Go get it!" I looked up and saw the finish line and immediately started bawling. Like, really bawling. I thought to myself, there was NO WAY I was walking across that finish line, and I started running. As I crossed the finish line, I heard the announcer call my name "And Diane Buck from Romeoville has completed the Chicago Marathon" (words that will forever be burned into my memory), and I really started crying then. I walked over to get my medal, and a wonderful man put the medal over my head, which triggered another round of bawling. He gave me a hug and said he was so proud of me and that "it was over and I could go get a banana." I staggered out of the chute and eventually found my husband. I threw myself at him and started wailing "never let me do this again!" The tears finally stopped, the medal was engraved, some beverages were consumed, and it was time to go home.
So what did I learn on race day?
1. Mental preparation is key. I won't assume that if the training runs go well the race will go well. I thought I'd be good to go because I sailed through training, but when things started to fall apart, I was unprepared. Next time I'll look at the route more critically and figure out where things broke down this time and figure out plans to overcome whatever issues arise.
2. Be prepared for it to hurt. This ties in with the mental piece. When I really started to hurt, I let my mind shut down, and I forgot my mantra "Enjoy the Ride." Next time when I start hurting, I'll crank up my music (which I didn't use at all) and use the songs to encourage me to keep going. Pain is temporary. It's cliche, but it's true.
3. Eat before the race, even if you're too nervous. I know I didn't eat enough before heading to the corral. My nervous stomach wasn't having any part of it. That caused me to burn what I did have in the tank earlier than expected, which caused a domino effect down the miles.
4. Vary the fuel I carry. I couldn't stomach pretzels and dried fruit (which had worked for me throughout my training), but I was able to do candy or fresh fruit. If I can't carry what I want, I need to strategically place friends and supporters in places where they can hook me up with what I need.
5. Don't forget sunscreen, and wear a visor. I didn't do either of these, and I'm still peeling off the skin to prove it.
6. Run my own race. I think I may have come out faster than I should have given conditions. While I was on pace, I should have dialed it back to avoid burning out during the harder miles. I knew better, but I wanted to hang with my group. It was the wrong call.
So now the big question: Will I do this again? When I started this entire endeavor almost a year ago, I swore I'd be a one-and-done. I didn't have any aspirations to become a "marathoner"; I just wanted to celebrate my 40th in a big way. But now that I've done it and I know I can, I have to admit it's tempting to do it again. But I do think I may have jumped ahead too much. I want to focus on shorter distances (5k, 10k, 10 mile, half), and then maybe down the road tackle the big one again.
I'm so glad I did this. I learned a lot about myself: my body, my mental strength, and even discovered a real love for running as part of this process. I met amazing people. I accomplished something huge. And I became part of an elite group of athletes. It's changed my life.
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Saturday, October 7, 2017
It’s Here. I’m hours away from being a marathoner.
I sit here now, roughly 24 hours before my expected finish, and I’m caught up in my thoughts about tomorrow and the past 20 weeks that got me here. It’s hard to put into words what this process is like, but let me try.
I started basically from zero, not a good way to jump into training of this magnitude. But the loss of Mom took such an emotional toll on me that any sort of running left me grief-stricken and emotional. But the fees were paid and the charity commitments made, so I was in. There was no way out but through. The day the email from my training program arrived I wanted to barf. Or hide under the bed. Or both. I was never going to be able to do this. What was I thinking? And I was sure I was going to be the worst one out there, a fear confirmed on my very first training run with the group when a coach put me back in a cab to get back to the FF Store. This was going to be a disaster.
Except it wasn’t. Every week I got stronger. I pushed through barriers, physical and mental, of all types. I met people. Good people. Encouraging people. People who were part of this unique and small group. Less than 1% of the worlds population has run a marathon. Most won’t even attempt it. But those that have come together to form this community that is unlike any other I’ve been a part of. And they encouraged me to get out of my own head. Let my body do what it knew to do. Trust my training. Enjoy the ride. And I did. And by doing so, I found a strength within me that I didn’t know I had. I looked forward to these runs. I shared stories and trials with my pace group. We talked about all manner of body functions. And we laughed and supported. It’s been great.
And now I’m here. I’ve picked up all of my gear for tomorrow. This evening I will repack my hotel room, lay out tomorrow’s clothing and necessary gear. I will have my final enormous meal before the race. I’ll write out the tribute ribbons for those I run for and will attach them to my singlet. And I’ll drink in this entire experience. Tomorrow I’ll go through my pre-run rituals, head over to my training group’s race day resort, and get in the game mentally. When I cross the start line, I’ll be focused on my one goal for the race: finishing and enjoying the ride. And there will be lots of emotion, because I will have completed something I never knew I could. I’ll join one of the most elite sports groups in the world: the “I completed a marathon” club. Expect lots of tears.
There’s no way anyone can do this without the love, support, and sacrifice of those around me, and I would be remiss if I didn’t recognize them.
To my running partner, sista from another mista, only person I would ever have roped into—ahem, asked—to do this with me, Kim. I have no idea how to even say thanks. I can’t believe we did this. Neither of us flaked and walked away. We’re rock stars. I love you.
To my pacers: you ladies are amazing. I’m so glad we met, and I hope to keep training with you on into the future. Thank you for being my friends, therapists, medical professionals, and cheerleaders. We will all do this tomorrow. You rock.
To Jon: you got me to the start line. Your advice, videos, answers, counsel, and overall help was invaluable. You’re the best. Good luck getting that under 5 finish. I’ll be cheering for you from the back of the corral. Thank you.
To Chicago Endurance Sports: you guys are everything everyone says you are. Your coaches and program are second to none. Jon may have gotten me to the start line, but your dedication to your runners will get me to the finish. I’m officially hooked and will see you at Winter Warriors. Thank you.
To all my friends, supporters, customers, and fellow marathoners: thank you for your encouragement, your patience with my stories of all things running, your questions of “how many miles this week?”, and your encouragement from the sidelines. Thank you for your generosity to donate to my charity, allowing us to raise more than $1,000 over the goal. I’m so grateful you’re in my life.
And finally, but not least at all, to my wonderful, patient, and loving husband Lynn. You deserve this medal as much as I do. Your support, picking up the slack, scooping cat boxes, taking care of the house, and everything else you did helped me get me here. I know regardless what hair-brained idea I come up with (let’s buy a store! FI’m gonna run a marathon!), you’re right beside me, cheering me on. This may be the hardest year we’ve had together, but we’re stronger than we’ve ever been. Now that this is done, I promise to do more cleaning and stuff around the house—until Winter Warriors starts. 😜 And maybe when grad school is done, I can drag you into this with me. Thank you. I love you.
I’ll see you all at the finish line. Thanks for taking this journey with me.
XOXO,
Diane
I started basically from zero, not a good way to jump into training of this magnitude. But the loss of Mom took such an emotional toll on me that any sort of running left me grief-stricken and emotional. But the fees were paid and the charity commitments made, so I was in. There was no way out but through. The day the email from my training program arrived I wanted to barf. Or hide under the bed. Or both. I was never going to be able to do this. What was I thinking? And I was sure I was going to be the worst one out there, a fear confirmed on my very first training run with the group when a coach put me back in a cab to get back to the FF Store. This was going to be a disaster.
Except it wasn’t. Every week I got stronger. I pushed through barriers, physical and mental, of all types. I met people. Good people. Encouraging people. People who were part of this unique and small group. Less than 1% of the worlds population has run a marathon. Most won’t even attempt it. But those that have come together to form this community that is unlike any other I’ve been a part of. And they encouraged me to get out of my own head. Let my body do what it knew to do. Trust my training. Enjoy the ride. And I did. And by doing so, I found a strength within me that I didn’t know I had. I looked forward to these runs. I shared stories and trials with my pace group. We talked about all manner of body functions. And we laughed and supported. It’s been great.
And now I’m here. I’ve picked up all of my gear for tomorrow. This evening I will repack my hotel room, lay out tomorrow’s clothing and necessary gear. I will have my final enormous meal before the race. I’ll write out the tribute ribbons for those I run for and will attach them to my singlet. And I’ll drink in this entire experience. Tomorrow I’ll go through my pre-run rituals, head over to my training group’s race day resort, and get in the game mentally. When I cross the start line, I’ll be focused on my one goal for the race: finishing and enjoying the ride. And there will be lots of emotion, because I will have completed something I never knew I could. I’ll join one of the most elite sports groups in the world: the “I completed a marathon” club. Expect lots of tears.
There’s no way anyone can do this without the love, support, and sacrifice of those around me, and I would be remiss if I didn’t recognize them.
To my running partner, sista from another mista, only person I would ever have roped into—ahem, asked—to do this with me, Kim. I have no idea how to even say thanks. I can’t believe we did this. Neither of us flaked and walked away. We’re rock stars. I love you.
To my pacers: you ladies are amazing. I’m so glad we met, and I hope to keep training with you on into the future. Thank you for being my friends, therapists, medical professionals, and cheerleaders. We will all do this tomorrow. You rock.
To Jon: you got me to the start line. Your advice, videos, answers, counsel, and overall help was invaluable. You’re the best. Good luck getting that under 5 finish. I’ll be cheering for you from the back of the corral. Thank you.
To Chicago Endurance Sports: you guys are everything everyone says you are. Your coaches and program are second to none. Jon may have gotten me to the start line, but your dedication to your runners will get me to the finish. I’m officially hooked and will see you at Winter Warriors. Thank you.
To all my friends, supporters, customers, and fellow marathoners: thank you for your encouragement, your patience with my stories of all things running, your questions of “how many miles this week?”, and your encouragement from the sidelines. Thank you for your generosity to donate to my charity, allowing us to raise more than $1,000 over the goal. I’m so grateful you’re in my life.
And finally, but not least at all, to my wonderful, patient, and loving husband Lynn. You deserve this medal as much as I do. Your support, picking up the slack, scooping cat boxes, taking care of the house, and everything else you did helped me get me here. I know regardless what hair-brained idea I come up with (let’s buy a store! FI’m gonna run a marathon!), you’re right beside me, cheering me on. This may be the hardest year we’ve had together, but we’re stronger than we’ve ever been. Now that this is done, I promise to do more cleaning and stuff around the house—until Winter Warriors starts. 😜 And maybe when grad school is done, I can drag you into this with me. Thank you. I love you.
I’ll see you all at the finish line. Thanks for taking this journey with me.
XOXO,
Diane
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Week 14
I've been so busy running that i haven't posted to this site at all. ;)
it's been an interesting trip to Week 14. I, too, have had hip issues. weak glutes, they said. i have an ass you can hide an elephant behind, so i'm not sure why it's so weak. but i felt like with every speed workout i was slogging through tapioca. and that someone was stabbing me in the butt cheeks. or in the hips. so in addition to weak glutes, i also was diagnosed with High Hamstring Tendinitis (why tendInitis and not tendOnitis? anyway). so running has really brought these issues to the forefront.
i told diane that regardless of how this training goes, i was planning on getting across that finish line, even if i have to crawl. that will probably give me knee problems as well. you just can't win when you push your body this hard.
i have found that doing PT, doing the speed workouts on Thursdays, doing the long runs on Sundays, but not much else during the week has been a good formula for me. we're ordinarily supposed to do another 40-50 run and crosstrain (weight lift, cycle, swim, etc.). but if i do all of that, my body can't do the long runs very well. this marathon thing isn't going to be a life style thing for me, so i figure as long as i can keep up with the distance and the PT then i'll be OK. i'm sure a lot of people out there would disagree, but you've got to run your own race. and i did 16 miles last week with no problems. (i'm knocking on all of the wood i can find at this moment.)
we have a cutback week this week, only 10 miles on sunday. the next sunday will be 18 miles. and then, on September 16, we all will run 20 miles. 20 freakin' miles. it will take all damn day. this is really what drive me nuts about all of this running... the time it takes. i've never been really good at training and i'm even worse at mindless shit that takes hours and hours. the 20 miler will probably take 5 hours. but then i tell myself, what else would i be doing with that time? probably sleeping. and it's not like i have a job. might as well enjoy the camaraderie while i still can.
so, recap: hip pain, hamstring tendinitis, runner's knee, lots of time on the feet. in a little over a month, this will all be over.
and don't even get me starting on the farting and bloating that comes after a run. you would think i could propel myself over the finish line.
and then Diane and I will join Winter Warriors. i guess we really hate ourselves that much. ;)
Monday, August 7, 2017
12 Lessons Learned in 12 Weeks
These past 12 weeks of training have flown by in a whirlwind of sore muscles, ravenous hunger, and feats of physical accomplishments. Today on my long run I took a few minutes (miles?) to reflect on what I've learned these past weeks, and here's what I've come up with.
1. My body can do amazing things. I remember saying to others (not too long ago) there was no way I could ever run more than 6 miles. Turns out I can. Every week. And I increase that mileage weekly.
2. I have never know hunger like I know now. I am hungry all the time. In the last week alone, I found myself daydreaming about what I was going to eat for dinner while I was eating lunch. I am an insatiable food collection device.
3. You will discuss all manner of things with your pace group. Never has a group of veritable strangers come together so quickly as when facing an 11 mile run. Nothing is sacred, and all manner of topics are covered.
4. I have never discussed so many private bodily functions with complete strangers before. Poop. Farts. Pee color. Pee urgency. Sweat. Farts that are actually poops. Blisters. Blood. Nipples. Chub Rub. Chafing. Everything is fair game. There are people I know the potty habits of but have yet to get their name.
5. Mantras work. Really. Sometimes the only thing that keeps you going is telling yourself over and over that you can do it. I believe I can, so I do.
6. Chafing: it's a thing. Oh, the horrors of the chub rub. I have fallen victim of this, and it sucks. And now Vaseline is my friend.
7. It actually does matter what you eat if you want to run well. While my eating habits are far from good, I've had to plan meals out better to have energy for my run. Turns out that "eating healthy will make you feel better" thing is real. Who knew?
8. Nothing tastes better than a full breakfast after a long run. Oh, the post-run pancakes, eggs, etc. They are glorious. See also: Starbucks Bacon & Gouda sandwiches. Also see also: carb loading the night before a long run (i.e., pre-run pancakes).
8a. The shower beer is a thing, and it is amazing. Admittedly, my shower beer is actually a shower green tea lemonade, but the concept is the same. Taking a beer into the shower? Why is that a thing? Now I get it. It's totally a thing, and you'll only get it if you do it.
9. You will get seduced by all the gear. There is no way I need goodr glasses (I need prescription lenses), Garmin watches (I don't know if I'll continue distance running after this), or expensive recovery gear (my grid roller and a tennis ball are sufficient.) But that doesn't mean I don't want it. At least while I'm still at the running store.
10. It takes a village to run a marathon. (Apologies to Hillary for the stolen concept.) You need tons of support and encouragement to do this, or believe me, you'd never do it. The training is long, sacrifices are many, and the body is stretched to the breaking point. But people telling you that you can do this, asking how the week's long run went, and generally offering words of encouragement (even if they're sprinkled in with a generous helping of "you're insane for doing this" make you really believe that finishing this crazy race is possible.
11. There is no time commitment like running a marathon. What am I doing this weekend? Running. How does my Thursday night look for a get-together? Sorry, I can't. I'm running. Want to grab a drink at Cellar Door? Nope. No go. I have to run tomorrow, so I can't lose myself in the booze. Maybe after October 8th. At this point, I am simply looking forward to sleeping in on a Sunday morning and consuming a ton of red wine. But not yet. Not until the race is over.
In 62 days, I will be a marathoner. I can't even believe it.
1. My body can do amazing things. I remember saying to others (not too long ago) there was no way I could ever run more than 6 miles. Turns out I can. Every week. And I increase that mileage weekly.
2. I have never know hunger like I know now. I am hungry all the time. In the last week alone, I found myself daydreaming about what I was going to eat for dinner while I was eating lunch. I am an insatiable food collection device.
3. You will discuss all manner of things with your pace group. Never has a group of veritable strangers come together so quickly as when facing an 11 mile run. Nothing is sacred, and all manner of topics are covered.
4. I have never discussed so many private bodily functions with complete strangers before. Poop. Farts. Pee color. Pee urgency. Sweat. Farts that are actually poops. Blisters. Blood. Nipples. Chub Rub. Chafing. Everything is fair game. There are people I know the potty habits of but have yet to get their name.
5. Mantras work. Really. Sometimes the only thing that keeps you going is telling yourself over and over that you can do it. I believe I can, so I do.
6. Chafing: it's a thing. Oh, the horrors of the chub rub. I have fallen victim of this, and it sucks. And now Vaseline is my friend.
7. It actually does matter what you eat if you want to run well. While my eating habits are far from good, I've had to plan meals out better to have energy for my run. Turns out that "eating healthy will make you feel better" thing is real. Who knew?
8. Nothing tastes better than a full breakfast after a long run. Oh, the post-run pancakes, eggs, etc. They are glorious. See also: Starbucks Bacon & Gouda sandwiches. Also see also: carb loading the night before a long run (i.e., pre-run pancakes).
8a. The shower beer is a thing, and it is amazing. Admittedly, my shower beer is actually a shower green tea lemonade, but the concept is the same. Taking a beer into the shower? Why is that a thing? Now I get it. It's totally a thing, and you'll only get it if you do it.
9. You will get seduced by all the gear. There is no way I need goodr glasses (I need prescription lenses), Garmin watches (I don't know if I'll continue distance running after this), or expensive recovery gear (my grid roller and a tennis ball are sufficient.) But that doesn't mean I don't want it. At least while I'm still at the running store.
10. It takes a village to run a marathon. (Apologies to Hillary for the stolen concept.) You need tons of support and encouragement to do this, or believe me, you'd never do it. The training is long, sacrifices are many, and the body is stretched to the breaking point. But people telling you that you can do this, asking how the week's long run went, and generally offering words of encouragement (even if they're sprinkled in with a generous helping of "you're insane for doing this" make you really believe that finishing this crazy race is possible.
11. There is no time commitment like running a marathon. What am I doing this weekend? Running. How does my Thursday night look for a get-together? Sorry, I can't. I'm running. Want to grab a drink at Cellar Door? Nope. No go. I have to run tomorrow, so I can't lose myself in the booze. Maybe after October 8th. At this point, I am simply looking forward to sleeping in on a Sunday morning and consuming a ton of red wine. But not yet. Not until the race is over.
In 62 days, I will be a marathoner. I can't even believe it.
Monday, July 10, 2017
So let's talk about Chicago Endurance Sports
So it's Week 7, and it's been quite a ride so far. We're about 1/3 of the way through training, and I can't believe what my body has been able to do! I never thought I'd see the day I would be able to put up 8 miles (granted, it was a run/walk, but still!), and I did yesterday. And today I am stiff, but I feel pretty good. That's just mind blowing to me. And I can honestly say that I wouldn't be where I am without the coaching team and fellow teammates from Chicago Endurance Sports.
When I decided to tackle this crazy goal, I asked my marathoner friends who I should train with. As part of our American Cancer Society program, we got free training from either CARA or CES. Every single one who has gone through a training program said to train with CES. I was skeptical and intimidated; all of these people were multiple marathoners, some even triathletes (all the way to the Ironman!), and I wasn't sure I was in their class of athlete at all. But I took the advice of the veterans and signed up. I arrived on the first day wondering if I was out of my league. The group in Lincoln Square was super fit and seasoned. They knew each other well and congratulated one another on doing Chicago again this year. I was nervous and intimidated. I just wanted my first time out to not be a disaster/embarrassment. (Long story short: it was!)
But as the weeks have gone by and the runs have gotten longer, I have realized some things. This group--the trainers, the athletes (of which I now count myself!), the pacers--they are undoubtedly the most amazing people I have ever met. They are supportive, friendly, welcoming, and encouraging. They celebrate all successes, no matter how small. They lift up those who are struggling physically, emotionally, mentally (I've been in all three of those places), and they make you feel like you can do anything. I have met people who are newbies like me who have never run farther than a 5K in a race, and people who are on the 40+ marathon of their career. I've seen all body types, paces, skill sets, and abilities in my Lincoln Square group. I have learned so much from runners who have done this before and want everyone new to succeed. They've given advice on nutrition, hydration, race day prep, their general feelings during race days of the past, and how to overcome the gremlins in our minds that tell us that we can't do it. The coaches have all reached out to help with any questions we have, and have given great advice no magazine article will tell you. The LS coaches have asked me how my hip is doing and encouraged me through bad runs. They have all treated me as though they're my personal trainers rather than coaching hundreds of people in our location. (There are over 1200 runners in the entire program in 4 locations!) And the newbies like me have shared their anxieties, stories, and enthusiasm for taking on what I think is the largest physical challenge you can personally take on. It's just us out there--no equipment, teammates, or assistance. Just our feet on the pavement cranking out those miles.
So to my marathoner friends: you were right. This was totally the way to go. I have met my new family, and they're all amazing. To those who think they want to start running (and not just marathons!), stretch to take on the triathlon or Ironman, or want to work on their open water swimming or distance biking, you must train with CES. I have no doubt at all I will finish this race in October. I have no doubt I can get my body to push farther than I ever imagined. I know these people will not let me fail. And they won't let you fail either.
(Want to donate to ACS on behalf of Team Pancakes? Click here to go to my page and make a donation. For donations over $25, I will add your loved one's name to my race day singlet and will run in their honor. For donations over $100, I will dedicate one of my 26 miles to your loved one and will send you a ribbon with the dedication after the race.
When I decided to tackle this crazy goal, I asked my marathoner friends who I should train with. As part of our American Cancer Society program, we got free training from either CARA or CES. Every single one who has gone through a training program said to train with CES. I was skeptical and intimidated; all of these people were multiple marathoners, some even triathletes (all the way to the Ironman!), and I wasn't sure I was in their class of athlete at all. But I took the advice of the veterans and signed up. I arrived on the first day wondering if I was out of my league. The group in Lincoln Square was super fit and seasoned. They knew each other well and congratulated one another on doing Chicago again this year. I was nervous and intimidated. I just wanted my first time out to not be a disaster/embarrassment. (Long story short: it was!)
But as the weeks have gone by and the runs have gotten longer, I have realized some things. This group--the trainers, the athletes (of which I now count myself!), the pacers--they are undoubtedly the most amazing people I have ever met. They are supportive, friendly, welcoming, and encouraging. They celebrate all successes, no matter how small. They lift up those who are struggling physically, emotionally, mentally (I've been in all three of those places), and they make you feel like you can do anything. I have met people who are newbies like me who have never run farther than a 5K in a race, and people who are on the 40+ marathon of their career. I've seen all body types, paces, skill sets, and abilities in my Lincoln Square group. I have learned so much from runners who have done this before and want everyone new to succeed. They've given advice on nutrition, hydration, race day prep, their general feelings during race days of the past, and how to overcome the gremlins in our minds that tell us that we can't do it. The coaches have all reached out to help with any questions we have, and have given great advice no magazine article will tell you. The LS coaches have asked me how my hip is doing and encouraged me through bad runs. They have all treated me as though they're my personal trainers rather than coaching hundreds of people in our location. (There are over 1200 runners in the entire program in 4 locations!) And the newbies like me have shared their anxieties, stories, and enthusiasm for taking on what I think is the largest physical challenge you can personally take on. It's just us out there--no equipment, teammates, or assistance. Just our feet on the pavement cranking out those miles.
So to my marathoner friends: you were right. This was totally the way to go. I have met my new family, and they're all amazing. To those who think they want to start running (and not just marathons!), stretch to take on the triathlon or Ironman, or want to work on their open water swimming or distance biking, you must train with CES. I have no doubt at all I will finish this race in October. I have no doubt I can get my body to push farther than I ever imagined. I know these people will not let me fail. And they won't let you fail either.
(Want to donate to ACS on behalf of Team Pancakes? Click here to go to my page and make a donation. For donations over $25, I will add your loved one's name to my race day singlet and will run in their honor. For donations over $100, I will dedicate one of my 26 miles to your loved one and will send you a ribbon with the dedication after the race.
Monday, June 19, 2017
Week 4: The Hip Flexor Issue
It's clearly been a long time since I've posted here, and while there are many reasons for that, I won't bore you with them now. Let's just say that getting back on the wagon lasted all of a month before everything started falling apart, the very act of running became highly emotional, and my life became so chaotic that getting a run in at any time was next to impossible. Instead we'll just skip ahead in the narrative to this week and how the start of training has gone, and we'll pass on the months of grief and bad runs that contained various levels of crying (on the rare occasions that they actually happened at all.)
One of my earlier posts listed my training plan, which I charted out in a calendar and color-coded to ensure milestones were reached and success was guaranteed. After life finished laughing at my best laid plans, I decided to put away all training plans and lay on the couch licking my wounds and nurturing my grief. But during that time, ACS contacted me to let me know that I had raised enough money to qualify for free training, and so I signed up for the Chicago Endurance Sports marathon training program. (I had gotten many recommendations from friends who had used this training program, and let me tell you...they were right. There are simply not enough superlatives to describe the coaches, pacing staff, and environment they provide to their team, so I'll save it for another post.)
Upon signing up I received a training schedule for the 20 weeks I'd be in the program, and my first reaction was "I cannot do this." It really hit me then. I had to work on increasing my mileage from my simple 3 miles run for the occasional race to 20 miles before the taper begins, and that's just for the long runs. I went to that first long run feeling like I was way outclassed and doomed to be the worst and slowest one there. And while that first week was a hilarious disaster (fodder for yet another post), I kept to the schedule and even ran while away for a funeral up north. And amazingly enough, I started to feel stronger. I changed my diet, started drinking a lot more water (I mean, a lot more), and even did my time trial at home when I couldn't make it down to speed training.
But this Sunday things started to get hairy. I started Sunday's run feeling good, mentally and physically. But about a mile in I started to feel a sharp pinch in my groin, in an area I told my coach, "I can't point out without being arrested for indecent exposure." After a bit of discussion, followed by some stretching during water breaks, it started to loosen up a bit and the pinching eased off. But by about mile 5 1/2, it started up again with a vengeance, eventually turning into a persistent ache that ice, ibuprofen, and stretching won't alleviate. Thankfully today is a rest day, but standing on my feet all day at the store hasn't done me any favors. So tomorrow I go for a screening at Athletico to see if we can figure out what's going on. My fingers are crossed for a simple strain so I only have to take it slow for a week and then I can get right back at it.
I suppose it was bound to happen that I would get injured at some point given the physical changes that the body goes through during training. And the good thing is it happened early rather than the week or so before the race. But now that I've proven to myself I can run farther than I ever thought I could (last Sunday was 6 miles--my longest run ever), I really just want to get back on the road and get running again.
(Want to donate to ACS on behalf of Team Pancakes? Click here to go to my page and make a donation. For donations over $25, I will add your loved one's name to my race day singlet and will run in their honor. For donations over $100, I will dedicate one of my 26 miles to your loved one and will send you a ribbon with the dedication after the race.)
One of my earlier posts listed my training plan, which I charted out in a calendar and color-coded to ensure milestones were reached and success was guaranteed. After life finished laughing at my best laid plans, I decided to put away all training plans and lay on the couch licking my wounds and nurturing my grief. But during that time, ACS contacted me to let me know that I had raised enough money to qualify for free training, and so I signed up for the Chicago Endurance Sports marathon training program. (I had gotten many recommendations from friends who had used this training program, and let me tell you...they were right. There are simply not enough superlatives to describe the coaches, pacing staff, and environment they provide to their team, so I'll save it for another post.)
Upon signing up I received a training schedule for the 20 weeks I'd be in the program, and my first reaction was "I cannot do this." It really hit me then. I had to work on increasing my mileage from my simple 3 miles run for the occasional race to 20 miles before the taper begins, and that's just for the long runs. I went to that first long run feeling like I was way outclassed and doomed to be the worst and slowest one there. And while that first week was a hilarious disaster (fodder for yet another post), I kept to the schedule and even ran while away for a funeral up north. And amazingly enough, I started to feel stronger. I changed my diet, started drinking a lot more water (I mean, a lot more), and even did my time trial at home when I couldn't make it down to speed training.
But this Sunday things started to get hairy. I started Sunday's run feeling good, mentally and physically. But about a mile in I started to feel a sharp pinch in my groin, in an area I told my coach, "I can't point out without being arrested for indecent exposure." After a bit of discussion, followed by some stretching during water breaks, it started to loosen up a bit and the pinching eased off. But by about mile 5 1/2, it started up again with a vengeance, eventually turning into a persistent ache that ice, ibuprofen, and stretching won't alleviate. Thankfully today is a rest day, but standing on my feet all day at the store hasn't done me any favors. So tomorrow I go for a screening at Athletico to see if we can figure out what's going on. My fingers are crossed for a simple strain so I only have to take it slow for a week and then I can get right back at it.
I suppose it was bound to happen that I would get injured at some point given the physical changes that the body goes through during training. And the good thing is it happened early rather than the week or so before the race. But now that I've proven to myself I can run farther than I ever thought I could (last Sunday was 6 miles--my longest run ever), I really just want to get back on the road and get running again.
(Want to donate to ACS on behalf of Team Pancakes? Click here to go to my page and make a donation. For donations over $25, I will add your loved one's name to my race day singlet and will run in their honor. For donations over $100, I will dedicate one of my 26 miles to your loved one and will send you a ribbon with the dedication after the race.)
Monday, January 9, 2017
Getting back on the wagon
I fell off the training wagon during the busy holiday season. The long days at the store with few (if any) days off doesn't inspire me to come home and run a couple of miles. So I gave myself permission to take the holiday season off to focus on the busy season, and now I'm back on a training schedule to take me through to October 8th.
The first week back was harder than I expected, largely because I normally run later in the day, and I'm trying to change my routine to do my runs first thing in the morning. I am not a morning person at all. In an ideal world, my day would start around noon, if not later, and would end in the wee hours of the morning. So getting up at 6:30 to run has been a challenge to say the least. But I'm doing it. Not only because I'm too stubborn to not see this through, but because this race has taken on an even more important focus for me.
I got a call early Friday that my mother had been admitted into a hospital back at home for some severe health issues. Without getting too deep into the weeds about her medical history, after many tests and doctor consults, we have a preliminary diagnosis that her cancer is back. Actually, the lymphoma has not returned, but it's common for Non-Hodgkins patients to develop a secondary cancer, and that's what has happened here. The new cancer is pretty aggressive, and while her initial treatment for the NHL wasn't easy, this will be considerably more challenging for her given her overall health condition, existing conditions, and the aggressive nature of this new cancer.
With that in mind, it's time for my first (of many) fundraising appeals for my marathon charity, The American Cancer Society. The ACS does a lot for cancer patients and their families, including giving rides to and from treatments, providing a wide variety of support information and assistance to patients and families, providing funding for cancer research, and so much more. If you would like to support my fundraising, please visit my fundraising page and give what you can. Any amount helps, and even as little as giving up your latte or lunch out for a day can make a difference. My fundraising page will be up until 2 weeks prior to the race so there is plenty of time to donate, but why not start the year off right by making a donation to help those who fight this horrible disease.
The first week back was harder than I expected, largely because I normally run later in the day, and I'm trying to change my routine to do my runs first thing in the morning. I am not a morning person at all. In an ideal world, my day would start around noon, if not later, and would end in the wee hours of the morning. So getting up at 6:30 to run has been a challenge to say the least. But I'm doing it. Not only because I'm too stubborn to not see this through, but because this race has taken on an even more important focus for me.
I got a call early Friday that my mother had been admitted into a hospital back at home for some severe health issues. Without getting too deep into the weeds about her medical history, after many tests and doctor consults, we have a preliminary diagnosis that her cancer is back. Actually, the lymphoma has not returned, but it's common for Non-Hodgkins patients to develop a secondary cancer, and that's what has happened here. The new cancer is pretty aggressive, and while her initial treatment for the NHL wasn't easy, this will be considerably more challenging for her given her overall health condition, existing conditions, and the aggressive nature of this new cancer.
With that in mind, it's time for my first (of many) fundraising appeals for my marathon charity, The American Cancer Society. The ACS does a lot for cancer patients and their families, including giving rides to and from treatments, providing a wide variety of support information and assistance to patients and families, providing funding for cancer research, and so much more. If you would like to support my fundraising, please visit my fundraising page and give what you can. Any amount helps, and even as little as giving up your latte or lunch out for a day can make a difference. My fundraising page will be up until 2 weeks prior to the race so there is plenty of time to donate, but why not start the year off right by making a donation to help those who fight this horrible disease.
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