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Month: October 2013

Funner with another: the BRC [aka CM13, part 2]

Funner with another: the BRC [aka CM13, part 2]

Though I’m now only a handful of days from running NYC, marathon #4 of the year, I’m still very much processing my Chicago experience from 10/13. I feel like I’m past figuring out the logistical, race-day and training execution stuff; I’m pretty sure I know what went well, what’s worth replicating or modifying, the stuff I can improve on, and the like.

coming up soon...
coming up soon…

Races never fail in teaching us our strengths and weaknesses–and boy, is that EVER true in the marathon distance–but I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten a good, or good enough, handle on this stuff right now. I know what the next cycle will (probably) look like. I’m already beginning to think about this, even though a) I still have another marathon to do this year and b) my race calendar next year is one big question mark, since I don’t know when I’ll be moving yet.

There’s still, however, something lingering out there about my CM13 experience. Something just… there.

After writing, and rewriting, and starting this post about 5 times in the past 7 days, I think I’ve finally able to articulate what has made my CM experience so different and meaningful.

Here’s a hint. It’s not me.

I’ve always trained with other people; by fundraising, and later, mentoring, for Team in Training and the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, right from the start of my marathoning “career,” I have always had the luxury of surrounding myself–though accidentally–with experienced and talented runners, some of them whom had been doing this crazy marathoning business for years, if not decades.

Just a handful of TNT Chicago '08 runners
Just a handful of TNT Chicago ’08 runners

I’ve fortunately always been around people who “get it,” people to whom I can turn for guidance and support. Though they didn’t read my (paper) training logs I kept, they knew, or at least could deduce, from how I ran on our Wednesday speedwork nights or our Saturday morning long runs that I was doing what I was supposed to be doing during the week.

Yet still… something was different about CM13. Something unique, something that I’ve not done before, or at least in this specific capacity, and something that left an indelible impression on me, as dramatic as that sounds.

The best way I can think of describing this is that Chicago ’13, for perhaps the first time, made me feel like I “belong” in the running community, that I am somewhat “legit,” as douchey as that sounds, and that being part of team helped me bring my “game” to a whole new level. It’s somewhat awkward to type all this out now, because I realize how horrible it sounds and, again, how douchey I’m portraying myself now, but hear me out. Maybe this will make sense.

This was the first time where I ran the race, a race wherein I had finally decided I wanted to have a positive experience, after years of sub-par performances on this course, and go for a respectable PR, as part of a team of people that brought with them a sense of unity and fellowship, a drive to haul ass like no other, and an unmatchable passion for the sport. I’ve done the team thing before with CM but only half-assedly; it was more akin to me finding out that there existed a team competition, and I got a bunch of my buddies on the roster, and that was it. There was no intention; there was no strategy; fuck, there wasn’t even a mention of it after I got everyone’s bib numbers and names to list on the roster.

Handful of the BRC gang. Thanks to Pete for the pic.
Handful of the BRC gang. Thanks to Pete for the pic.

CM13 was different, though.

There was most definitely intention.

There was most definitely strategy.

And among other things, there was pressure and stress–the good kind, the kind that helped me get psyched up for the event in a way that I thought of simply being on my team–the Bootleg Runners Coalition–an honor in and of itself.

I wanted to perform not only for myself but also for my team. I didn’t necessarily care if we “won” or “lost” simply because I didn’t know what stakes, if any, were on the line.

Like I alluded to earlier, though, I was running CM not just for me and my never-ending goal-chasing pursuits but also as part of a bigger group of people, of runners whose experience and performances make me starry-eyed and wonder “wow… maybe I can run like X when I grow up…”

another BRC shot, this time at the pre-expo-breakfast. Hat tip to Pete again for this one
another BRC shot, this time at the pre-expo-breakfast. Hat tip to Pete again for this one

Suffice it to say that having this experience of running as part of a group, of running as part of a group of people–friends–who are as genuinely interested in hearing about and supporting each other’s training as much as they are than their own training (perhaps even more) is incredibly, mind-blowingly refreshing as it is downright humbling.

Though I am fortunate to be able to have many people in my pocket, people who are my cheerleaders day in and day out of the sometimes grueling reality that is marathon training, these specific run buddies, folks who have since become my BRC teammates, really helped make my CM13 memorable. In no particular order:

Meredith/Mere:

Meredith, in the foreground. She's sitting on Annabelle, who's sitting on Meg.
Meredith, in the foreground. She’s sitting on Annabelle, who’s sitting on Meg.
Meredith (purple, left, side-five). Girl's got spirit when it comes to runnin'. Love it.
Meredith (purple, left, side-fiving AB). Girl’s got spirit when it comes to runnin’. Love it. (from Ragnar 2013)

On a 21-miler in Barrington in the depths of winter, my friend Amy and I happened upon Meredith, who had (I think) gotten turned around somewhere and didn’t know a shortcut back to the high school. This chance encounter led to a phone number and email exchange and, later, a friendship rooted in dailymile (strange as that sounds) and each other’s workouts as we prepared for our spring races. It wasn’t until Ragnar in June that we even saw each other (and ran together) again, but Meredith has genuinely and positively supported me since the winter, pretty much since the time I’ve been on dailymile. She is tough, smart, and so technical in her running that I’ve learned I can’t skim her dm posts if I want to remotely understand them (and even with a lot of time, and several read-throughs, I’m not sure I do). Watching her balls-to-the-wall training this year in preparation for her marathon in September was awesome; what was even better was hearing about her enormous marathon PR.  There was no one I wanted to see at mile 25/25 and change at CM13 more than Meredith. Her marathon in September? 3:23.

Annabelle, also known as Captain Bootlegger:

AB (in yellow) with Meredith. These women train so well together that they sub-consciously coordinate outfits.
AB (in yellow) with Meredith. These women train so well together that they sub-consciously coordinate outfits.
90 minutes of sleep over the course of a 200-mile relay with Meredith and Annabelle this summer.
90 minutes of sleep over the course of a 200-mile relay with Meredith and Annabelle this summer.

A chance encounter with this woman in Barrington (in the parking lot, after running with Meredith and Amy) in the winter eventually led to a twitter connection that led to me jumping on her Ragnar Yogging relay team that, eventually, led to me “formally” partaking in the BRC and reppin’ appropriately at CM13. Annabelle’s the type of runner who gets shit done. She’s not wasting her time taking mid-run selfies or tweeting hashtag-running to her twittersphere. She saturates her 9-5 with her heart and passion, much as she does her running. She’s as smart a runner as she is competitive and damn talented, and were it not for her positively channeling what she affectionately calls a “tantrum” one day, there would be no BRC. AB’s a badass and worth knowing. Oh, yea, and before her CM13 PR, she PRed the distance in September, won the women’s side of the marathon race, and then, just a few weeks later, took another 90 seconds off her mary PR to score Chicago in a 3:13.

Lynton:

Not only is he fast, but he can also outrun his dog!
Not only is he fast, but he can also outrun his dog!
Lynton and AB after CM13, in the finishing chute
Lynton and AB after CM13, in the finishing chute

Again, with the chance encounters… though I have AB to thank for this one. Meeting Lynton on a very steamy and warm summer Sunday morning run was pretty awesome, especially when I learned that he, too, is the same type of cray-cray as I am and was doing two marathons in the fall season (Fox Valley and NYC). Soon after this run, he was on dailymile, and similar to Meredith, seeing how he nailed his runs day after day, week after week, was so inspiring to me. That he was following the same plan as I was, Pfitzinger’s 70/12, was also fun 🙂 And, in the ‘special type of crazy’ department, Lynton totally did it for me when he willingly decided to do a grueling pre-dawn (circa 4 a.m.) speed session with me at the NPU track in the middle of the summer. Again, another runner with very little fanfare but with a tenacity and commitment to improvement that’s simply unmatchable. Such a good guy to know, such a tough runner, and one whom I am totally looking forward to seeing progress for many years to come. Fistbump. For him at mary 1 of 2, earlier this fall? 3:09. PR city.

Declan:

Declan in the far right. Don't worry; he woke up before the race began :) (thanks to Pete for the pic)
Declan in the far right. Don’t worry; he woke up before the race began 🙂 (thanks to Pete for the pic)
Super dad. Notice his daughter's huge smile.
Super dad. Notice his daughter’s huge smile.

 

In the finishers' chute. The great thing about so many people getting very close finish times is that we could all jump in the official pictures together :)
In the finishers’ chute. The great thing about so many people getting very close finish times is that we could all jump in the official pictures together 🙂

People think I’m crazy for doing the pre-dawn running, but I don’t do it every day. Declan does. Aside from being an amazing dad–seriously, I can count on one-half of one-hand how infrequently I have seen his toddler daughter have a toddler moment–he decided to run CM as his first marathon–NBD, it’s a popular race for first-timers–by following the Hansons Marathon Method. Yes, Hansons. If you know nothing about Hansons, know this. It’s unconventional. It’s tough. Really, really tough. Most runners, I’d say ~85%, couldn’t handle it. Not only did Declan use a challenging plan for his first go at the mary distance, he did most of his runs, and was back home getting ready to go to work, before most of us hear our first alarms in the morning. Declan is like the mayor of the Chicago running bloggers’ world insomuch that if you have a blog, and Declan has read it (which he probably has), he has commented on your stuff and has expressed a sincere interest in supporting you somehow. This guy has a heart of gold, and he made all the MLRs throughout the summer fun and quick, even if many days we were texting each other in the 4 or, as was often the case, 3 o’clock hour (yes, a.m.), giving each other status updates about our.. uh… bio breaks and the likelihood we’d be leaving on time. It happens. 🙂 Oh, yes, and the first time we ran together (having met off the internet and all), it rained and thunderstormed like the world was ending, and it totally killed his phone. One last thing- remember that whole “he ran his first marathon ever and used Hansons” thing I was just mentioning? 3:17. FIRST MARATHON. Watch out for the mayor on the running path. Soon enough, you won’t be able to catch him.

Ken/K$:

How awesome would it be if you looked this good finishing a 3-flat marathon?!
How awesome would it be if you looked this good finishing a 3-flat marathon?!
AB, Ken, and me celebrating PRs all around after the race. This was our attempt at the "coy marathon PR" look. Mildly successful.
AB, Ken, and me celebrating PRs all around after the race. This was our attempt at the “coy marathon PR” look. Mildly successful.

Like I wrote in the world’s longest race recap, were it not for Ken’s insistence that I sign up for and run Chicago this year, I wouldn’t have done it. Honestly, it is because of Ken that I even learned about dailymile in the first place, since he was the one of the first people Twitter recommended me to follow, and many of his posts were links to his DM entries. He has no idea how he has connected me to scores of runners whom I would have never had the opportunity to meet (and support) otherwise, and the fellowship that I have with the many runners I do now is largely because of him. Ken’s an aggressive runner, someone who says he came “late to the sport and is making up for lost time,” and a runner who sees running as part of the bigger picture. I can talk hippie-dippie-runner-shit with him, and he both tolerates and reciprocates it; I mean, c’mon. He’s vegan. 🙂 Of all the runners I’ve highlighted here tonight, I’ve known Ken the longest (though still, less than a year, incredibly), and consider him like my super-speedy older brother whom I’d one day like to finally catch (though he assures me this is in the works). 🙂 Like Mere, Annabelle, Lynton, and Declan, Ken, too, is a fanfare-less runner. He wants to run? He runs. He wants to kick ass and take names? He does. I tease him about his fan club of followers on dailymile, but people love Ken for a reason. I don’t think I personally know of any other runner who is faster or, more importantly, more humble than Ken. It’s a special match for sure, but hey. He’s a special guy. This year’s CM13 for him? 3:00. And oh yeah, he’s PRed every distance he’s raced this year. NBD.

What made my CM13 race experience wasn’t my course PR, or my legit PR, or the wonderful, actually-feels-like-fall-weather that I finally got to experience on what is usually a godforsaken Sunday in October.

What made my experience is the people, my run buddies, my BRC teammates, yes, but more importantly, those whom I am proud to call my friends. Running has enriched my life in ways I would have never in a million years imagined, and this race experience–because really, the marathon was just part of the puzzle–perfectly manifests this idea.

To Meredith, Annabelle, Lynton, Declan, and Ken, and readers, to your own run buddies, the cheerleaders you keep in your back pocket, raise a glass of the fluid of your own choosing. Cheers, guys.  And thanks.

PS- One last thing. That team competition wherein the BRC competed? The ladies’ team, the team I was part of? Totally won. 😉

BRC team stats

Chicago Marathon 2013 race recap, part 1

Chicago Marathon 2013 race recap, part 1

I’ve been thinking about the best way to write my 2013 Bank of America Chicago Marathon race recap over the past 24 hours, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s gotta be a recap in two parts (at least): the actual race, itself, and the experience.

If you’re interested in the quick and dirty (or the quicker and dirtier, I guess, because this will still be long…), this is for you. I’ll try in this post to stick to talking about the tactical parts of my CM, the how-and-why I decided to run it, and talk strictly about the race, itself, and nothing preceding or afterward. If you want to know about the actual experience, though, give me a few more days.

So, here we go. Let’s begin at the end.

The stats behind my performance are a 3:20:06 go at the race, a 35-second PR, my 2nd  3:20 marathon in one calendar year, my 8th Boston Qualifying race (and, trivia: my 1st BQ in the autumn), and my 20th lifetime marathon, six years nearly to the day that I did my 1st marathon–also in Chicago–in 2007. And, this is my fourth consecutive marathon PR, all of which have occurred since having A in May ’11 (Champaign ’12: 3:34; Houston ’13: 3:31, Eugene ’13: 3:20).

I continue to shake my head in disbelief as I re-read what I just typed.

Anyway, minimally, I wanted a sub-4 Chicago–since I didn’t hit that mark in my previous 3 attempts here, thanks to conditions mostly beyond my control (hello, hot weather and pregnancy, sometimes both)–and specifically, I wanted to substantially PR and go sub-3:20.

I’m satisfied with how the race went, have some lessons in my back pocket for next time, and have a heightened hunger to really go sub-3:20 in the future. For perspective, though, I think the second place men’s finisher missed first by 7 seconds, and that difference is one worth thousands upon thousands of dollars.

Probably a good thing that I only had my own ego on the line and not a paycheck. Holy moly.

My race plan was to do the first 13.1 in a solid 1:40–on a 3:20 flat pace–and then make a move at 20 or maybe 18, whenever I was ready to go. I wasn’t going to allow myself to go faster than 7:37s for the first half because I didn’t want to blow up later, and after doing this course thrice, I knew the back half was a decidedly different race than the front half.

I had a very specific fueling strategy, and I planned to stick to my schedule of consuming about 6 AccelGels (at 5, 9.3, 12.5, 16.4, 20.2, and 24.2) during my 26.2 mile jaunt, in addition to basically any fruit–bananas or orange slices, anyway–that I could get my paws on during the race. Ever since Boston ‘10, I’m convinced that I need to eat basically as much as humanly possible during a marathon. I’ll still use AccelGels, but if real [vegetarian] food is an option, I always take it.

This time around, much like Eugene, I wore my Garmin and a pace bracelet I printed from Fellrnr’s wiki, which, if you haven’t used, is pretty awesome. I was also that crazy runner who ran with two watches on, in the unlikely event that my Garmin blew up (learned from Tim’s Eugene experience), so I had my Ironman going the entire time as well. I had originally set my Garmin to not autolap, since the Randolph/Columbus St. area usually interferes with my satellite reception, and planned to manually lap each mile or two. I’d never done the non-autolap before, but it seemed manageable.

Miles 1-4

Even in the B group, starting pretty far back (pretty near the 3:30 or 3:35 pace group), I managed to get pretty comfortable pretty early in my first mile. I didn’t feel like I was tripping over people, and I tried my hardest not to get carried away in the absolute mayhem that can be the first mile of any marathon. I looked for my gal, Amy, around Grand and State, but didn’t see her. When we got to the first mile marker, my Garmin had said it was something like 1.1x miles, and at one point it told me I was clocking a 6:xx mile (highly unlikely… hiiiiiiiighly), so I had a feeling that wearing two watches, while making me look a little strange, might not have been a bad idea after all.

Going south on State Street, turning at DePaul, and going north on LaSalle came and went pretty quickly. Just as I missed Amy early, so, too, did I miss C not once but twice. I tend to **never** see him during marathons, yet I insist on still trying. For a long time, as we headed through State, LaSalle, and got closer to North Avenue, I was running behind “the joggler,” which made for some interesting fanfare from the spectators, but it also annoyed me enough –and quite frankly, terrified me–that I wanted to peace the fuck out and get away from him.

It’s nothing personal, joggler; I just don’t want to be potentially tripping over your balls mid-marathon. Also, c’mon. Pride.

It was also within these first four miles that I decided that manually lapping my Garmin was going to be annoying, and that having the mileage markings not line up was going to throw me off mentally–even though Garmin distances rarely match up with course signage–so mid-run, I somehow managed to change my watch back to the original autolap settings.

This is nothing short of remarkable only because I am **that** woman who never programs workouts into my watch and would rather just wear two watches (again, the Ironman is my sidekick) because I just find the process too tedious.

miles 1-4: 6:59 (1.12 miles), 7:42 (1.96 miles), 7:19 (1.06 miles), 7:32 (1.00 miles- this is where things finally started to line up)

Miles 5-10

Running through my old stomping grounds, near the zoo in Lincoln Park, is always a treat. I took my first gel either right before or right after mile 5, and I had a rush of memories come to me as we ran through the Nature Museum, as I recalled working that aid station at Chicago ‘09, when it was miraculously freezing (excellent for runners, painful for volunteers). It was also in this stretch on Sunday, right as I neared the 10k mark, that I noticed a woman running just a few steps ahead of me, wearing an Evanston Running Club singlet, whom I thought I knew. Turns out I was right, so I had the pleasure of briefly chatting with the one and only, super-sweet Nancy Rollins for a few strides as we talked about our goals for the day and our desire to get ahead of the 3:25 pace herd just a few more feet in front of us. (She later won her age group).

As we continued north onto Sheridan and inched our way closer to the Addison turnaround, I was so looking forward to seeing Mort and Lin at Wellington/Sheridan, on the northwest corner of the street, and they didn’t disappoint. Spotting them–good friends, of course, but also my first spectators whom I was actually able to find that morning–was a rush. I’m pretty sure I picked up an irresponsible amount of speed just so I could give Mort a raging high-5. I quickly tried to calm down and settle back into the pace I should be running (7:37) and concentrate on each mile.

Just a few miles later, on the other side of the course, I again got to see Mort and Lin at Wellington/Broadway (which I wasn’t expecting), so again, more peps in my step. I was having a blast, and the memories I had of the north side of the CM were exactly what I remembered: throngs of humanity, color, and a party, basically. Being in another former neighborhood of mine, when I lived on the north end of Lakeview, also brought the memories a-floodin’.

As we ventured south on Broadway, and then Clark Street, and returned to my old ‘hood, I began to look forward to seeing another friend, Erin, at the Fleet Feet aid station around 10.5. While we ran down N. Sedgwick (literally behind where we used to live, at Clark/Dickens), I obnoxiously Cheshired for the photographers, chatted up a Team in Training coach from Portland, and just waited to see Erin. I was feeling well, reigning myself in some and staying within my target-safety pace, and was just soaking up the experience. I was a little ahead of schedule, but not by much, maybe about 40-50 seconds–still within the safe zone. The crowds were nothing short of remarkable by now, and I’m pretty sure I got a bit startled by some type of bar pep band that seemed to come OUT OF NOWHERE south of Armitage.

Seriously, so loud.

Once we hit the Old Town gate, my eyes began scanning fast and furious for Erin. Fortunately, we locked eyes within half a second of each other, which, of course, meant that I damn near barreled into her because I was so excited to see her **and** get water from her. Nothing like seeing your friends on the course, especially when they’re specifically there to keep you goin’ strong.

splits for 5-10: 7:33, 7:27, 7:39, 7:27, 7:35, 7:32

Miles 11-15

Making our way back downtown by now, heading south on Wells and then Franklin, I was feeling great, still. Nothing hurt, I knew I was going to be somewhere between the slow end of my “too fast” zone but pretty close to where I should be, so I just soaked up everything. Some stupidly-ballsy spectators dashed across Wells a few time, right as I was approaching, and it was but for the grace of god that I didn’t decide to take a half-step faster than I was.

I began looking for C again just shy of 12.5–miss, again… we’re consistent–and then John, Stacey, and Blake. More Evanston Running Club members, Ron and Luni, were out spectating, and a quick yell to them brought another surge of energy just before 20k. Seeing John, Stacey, and Blake also gave me another spike, especially since I saw them before they saw me, and I started reassessing my pace and realized that I needed to slow things down a bit, that I was getting too fast–even though it was comfortable–for where I should have been in the course. I wasn’t irresponsibly faster than I needed to be, but I knew, after doing 19 of these things, that there was still a fair amount of business to attend to on this course.

By this point in my previous CM experiences, the race has basically gone to shit. By now, things are hot, we’re in the back half of the course, the unadulterated sun part, the part where you’re looping around and through neighborhoods that have spectators but far fewer than those you’ve had in the previous 13 miles. I can’t tell you how awesome it felt to be zipping through these ‘hoods, with the memory of how shitty I’ve felt by now in previous CMs, and to just truck right along, enjoying the day, smiling and giving a “heyooooooo!” when people yelled my name, which was often.

Night and day difference, people. Night and freakin’ day.

I’m rarely in the west side of Chicago, so as we made our way west, out toward the United Center, I just soaked up the change of scenery and the look of a neighborhood that I don’t really know. It was somewhere in this stretch, around mile 14, that I felt my left ankle suddenly stiffen, which naturally, mid-marathon, made me question my ability to run, my ability to put one leg in front of the other, my worth as a human, ya know, the usual mid-PR marathon doubt. It wasn’t a pain or a cramp, but it was just like suddenly, my body decided that I needed to give some mindful focus to my left ankle just for the hell of it, just to fuck with me. That was enough of a jolt to make me want to slow things down for a hot minute, which was good anyway, because I needed to.

I felt in control, and so relieved at how I felt in the moment versus how I had felt here in ‘07, ‘08, and ‘10, but by mile 15 in a marathon, the fun is really just beginning. Double digit mileage was still waiting to be run.

splits for 11-15: 7:37, 7:23, 7:29, 7:44, 7:35

Miles 16-20

Making our way east on Jackson, as we went through what I thought was the sparsest area of crowd support of the entire race (outside Malcolm X College), somewhere around mile 16 or 16.5 out of nowhere, and probably in my peripheral vision, I saw a guy who looked a lot like Kevin Granato, of Granato Racing fame, on the sideline. I saw half of a Oiselle hoody and thought that had to be him, and a shout in his direction confirmed it; nice pick-me-up again.

Interesting posture, Erin...
Interesting posture, Erin…Also, quads. Calves.
Somewhere around mile 16. Thanks, Kevin! @kgranato
Somewhere around mile 16. Thanks, Kevin! @kgranato

By now, about four AccelGels into the race, my body was feeling good; my stomach wasn’t giving me any distress signals, so I was a pretty happy camper. I was a bit ahead of my pace but still in the safety zone, about 45 seconds ahead of my goal (3:19:59), so I just concentrated on running steadily and smoothly.

Running south on Halsted, right through the UIC campus and over the expressway, I was jolted when I heard an “ERRRRRRRRIN!!!!!” yell from my right side; I quickly realized it was Chanthana, Corey, Tim, and Jenny. I had also missed seeing them at least three times earlier on the course. Shortly thereafter, Coach Rob from Team in Training, one of my coaches when I last ran with them in 2008, was hanging out, so he jumped in and chatted with me for about a half mile. I had seen Rob throughout the summer on the lakefront, so it was cool to connect with him again and just not think for a couple minutes.

Things were clicking, phantom ankle stiffness disappeared, I was smiling a ton when I got shouts from the spectators (seriously, permanent marker to the arms–it’s mostly gone by the time the race is over, but it’s a great boost), and I began to think about when I should start upping my speed. I originally wanted to go at mile 20, or maybe 18 if things felt good, and things were feeling good.

Really good.

I saw a 30k sign, did some quick math, and thought what the hell. 18.6? 26.2? 7.6 miles to pick things up?

Reasonable.

By now, we were approaching and making our way through Pilsen, which was a total blast. The strong food smells emanating from all the Mexican restaurants actually didn’t bother me too much, and I saw the second unofficial food table on the course, some oranges. I had grabbed a banana earlier from some lady around 18 and change, and I thought the oranges would be a welcome break from the AccelGels. I darted from the right side of the course to the left, tried to pick up a few oranges from a table that was lower than my hips, and would you know, I dropped the damn things.

Motherfucker.

Things felt fine though, and I knew the official marathon stations would have bananas from 20.2-24.2. I was pissed I probably spent a couple seconds needlessly running from one side of the course to the other, but all wasn’t lost.

I was still where I needed to be in terms of my pace, with about a 40 second margin under a 3:19:59, so it was just a matter of concentrating from here on out and staying ahead of bonking. I knew my training was strong, I knew I had put in nearly 1,800 miles (thank you, DailyMile) this year before 10/13/13 to be able to race today’s 26.2 fast and intelligently, so it was just a matter of doing it.

splits for 16-20: 7:16, 7:37, 7:31, 7:36, 7:38

Miles 21-26.2

The only thing I can really remember about this part is that as we were going south on Halsted and then northeast on Cermak, as we approached Chinatown, I recalled thinking about how shitty I felt during this stretch in previous CMs. Have you picked up on this pattern yet?  Fortunately, I was still feeling well, but my paces now tell me that I slowed down a bit during this little stretch. I can remember that I was eating a lot through this section–a lot–so much so that at one point, in my left hand I was carrying two banana halves, while in my right, I had no fewer than 4 or 5 orange slices. I’m pretty sure I didn’t take my AccelGels right at 20.2 or 24.2 because I had been eating the real food on the course, but I know I still ended up taking 5 or 6 gels overall. I took the food because even if I didn’t eat it at that very second, I knew I probably would later (or I’d give it to someone else running near me).

I knew that I was slowing down some, but I remember telling myself that I wasn’t bonking, that nutritionally, calorically, whatever, I had been giving myself a near-constant stream of calories over the miles, and that even if I did slow some, the 3:19:59 was still feasible. As my pace hit into the 7:40s though–which still put my cumulative time in the safe zone–I knew things were going tighter.

Chinatown at mile 21 came and went without consequence; in previous years, there were tons of spectators, a dragon performance (like what we have in my ‘hood for Lunar New Year), but it wasn’t the same this year. [Note: not sure if this is actually true or if it’s my distorted memory].

Right as we exited Chinatown and started south on Wentworth, I realized that this stretch of the race, from about the 35k mark to the finish line, was what I had run for kicks on Monday afternoon, after teaching. I remembered that it didn’t really take all that longto run it, so I knew that, barring catastrophe, this whole experience would come to a close soon, even though it felt like the race was flying by. I was beginning to get tired and I knew it, but, like any bull-headed Type A who doesn’t want to give up, I didn’t want to admit it.

As I approached the 23-mile mark, in the heart of the IIT campus, the memories flooded back from spectating here last year. I missed all my friends on the north side but managed to catch a few down there last year. I also remembered my Monday run and realized HOW EFFIN CLOSE I was to finishing the race, and that I just had a few more turns before 26.2. A couple quick turns later, I was at 35th/S. Michigan, the southern most part of the course, around mile 23.25, and became determined to do whatever it took to get to 26.2 under a 3:20. I felt fine–I told myself repeatedly I was fine, there was nothing wrong, I was safe (ha, basically, the same things I tell A during a meltdown)–but I still had some work to do, I still had to get from 3500 south to 1200 south, and this was what Pfitzinger and the MLRs and the 3am wake-ups all summer had trained me for all year long.

I didn’t clock-watch for most of the race. I’d check in periodically, especially if things felt a little off, but for the most part, I ran almost exclusively by feel. Honestly, I was a bit afraid and discouraged to look at my splits on each buzz because I was pissed that I was fading some and especially so toward the end. I knew I was strong, I knew my training was there, and I knew I had run a pretty smart race. Sounds stupid to say out loud, but I didn’t want to be one of the thousands of marathon finishers who had an amazing 30 or 35k and a shitty last stretch.

I’m so over that nonsense. At the risk of sounding like an ass, I know I can run a smarter marathon than that.

That last <3 miles on S. Michigan went by really quickly. I kept thinking (again) of how shitty I had felt on this stretch in years previous, of how by now, I had resorted to walking the water stops, but this time, I tried to fish and see how many people I could pass, even if it never happened (I honestly don’t remember). I also knew that Meredith and the BRC gang who weren’t running on Sunday would be at the 25 mile mark, on my right hand side, and I wanted to see her desperately if for no other reason than I knew once I saw Meredith, I was **this close** to being done. And, of course, I wanted to see a bright, sunshiney and familiar face 🙂

(For the record, she didn’t disappoint. I saw her right away, and at a distance, with a sign that I thought said something about AB liking shorts and chits, which made NO SENSE whatsoever to me. Turns out, Meredith’s sign actually said something about potato chips, not chits. And she had a sign for me, about my sexy shorts and awesomely lame sunglasses, but she had held up the wrong sign at the wrong time.) 🙂

Those last 1.2 miles felt like the fastest finishing miles (or mile and change, anyway) of any marathon I’ve done. Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t. I managed to not actually stop my watch when I finished the race. It felt like almost immediately after I saw Meredith at 25, I saw a sign that said it was only 1000m to go, then 800, then suddenly, I saw myself on the jumbotron.  I scaled Mt. Roosevelt, trying to pass as many people as possible, saw the “300m to go” sign, and turned left onto Columbus. By then, as I eclipsed the mini-mountain and saw the finish line, a quick look at my watch said something around 3:19:high-40s/low-50s (I think), and I knew that things would be crazy tight.

I had come to this realization when I was still on S. Michigan, when my 40-second pad went to 30s, and then 20s, and I told myself that I wouldn’t be upset if I didn’t squeak through in a sub-3:20 because I was still pretty confident I could PR. I knew it would be close, super close, but I also knew that I had finally run a strong CM, better than any of the other three times I had run it, and really, that my whole CM experience before I even began today’s race was nothing short of amazing.

I hauled as much ass as one can haul after running for 26.19 miles, and at 26.2, it was over.

Done.

3:20:06.

Missing the sub-3:20 by 6 seconds initially pissed me off–pretty sure I dropped a “motherfucker” under my breath once I finished–but I immediately replaced that ridiculousness with a huge sense of accomplishment and pride. I went into crazy runner, hippie dippie endocannibinoid overdrive, and I’m pretty sure I thanked every. single. volunteer. at the finish line–the medics, the students giving out food, the beer people (which I stupidly took… what the hell?), everyone. If I made eye contact with you, I said thank you, and chances are, I probably somewhat awkwardly tried to give you a hug or a fistbump or something.

I didn’t want to be that annoying runner, whining about missing her arbitrary-to-everyone-but-herself goal to the world, when the fact that I HAD JUST RUN MY 20TH MARATHON was mind-blowing. And the fact that this is my first marathon that never saw a mile higher than a 7:46 pace.

That right there, my friends, is cool shit.

I honestly thought I’d never see the day.

splits for 21-26.2: 7:44, 7:45, 7:46, 7:46, 7:32, ?.

I noticed I didn’t feel especially stiff afterward, though my legs were happy to begin to move in a different plane of motion for the first time in hours, and I quickly reunited with my BRC teammates, C, and spectating buddies before bookending the rest of my CM experience.

That I had an amazing CM race and got to PR just rocks. It really does.

However, for as amazing as my race was, even with my mistakes of maybe being just a tiny bit aggressive on the front half, possibly screwing up my fueling on the back half, and maybe beginning my kick too early, at 30k instead of 35k (or some other distance), my PR race absolutely, wholeheartedly, 110% pales in comparison to the weekend (or the days, weeks, and months, really) leading up to it.

This marathon was about so much more than me, and my performance, and what I wanted to accomplish here. That’s part two of this though, the journey.

Forthcoming.

Official stats:

Split

Time

Diff

min/mile

miles/h

05K

00:23:39

23:39

07:37

7.89

10K

00:47:27

23:48

07:40

7.83

15K

01:10:58

23:31

07:35

7.93

20K

01:34:32

23:34

07:35

7.91

HALF

01:39:41

05:09

07:35

7.93

25K

01:58:20

18:39

07:42

7.81

30K

02:21:40

23:20

07:31

7.99

35K

02:45:36

23:56

07:43

7.79

40K

03:09:50

24:14

07:48

7.69

Finish

03:20:06

10:16

07:32

7.97

Top 200 IL women marathon finishers- 335 place women – 93rd AG – 2629 (heyooo!) overall