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
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