10.10.10

Yesterday was 10.10.10.

And I earned my third marathon medal.

I trained hard for it.

I put in the miles. I strength-trained. I did my stretches. I rested my injured calf muscle when my body told me to. (And when my husband told me to.) I carb loaded. I drank lots of water. I got a good nights rest the night before.

I did everything I could to prepare myself.

But the one thing I couldn't prepare for was the heat.

Just 3 days before the race, the weather forecast was predicting record high temps for October in the high 80's. They say that the ideal temperature for running a marathon is somewhere between the 40's and 50's. When I go out for a training run, I know its going to be a good run if when I step outside I am cold. Its always a bad sign if I step outside and feel fine. Or worse, feel warm already.

At the starting line yesterday morning at 7 am I was wearing a tank top and shorts and I felt fine. It was 69 degrees before we even started running. And I knew it was a bad sign. I also knew it was a bad sign when at mile 6 I was already dumping cup-fulls of water all over myself, along with many of the other runners.

I told myself when I set out to do this race that all I wanted to do was beat my Phoenix time of 4:26:09. I kept up my pace for the first 13.1 miles, crossing the half-way point at just over 2 hours. But after that, it just kept getting hotter and no amount of water I put inside my body or poured on the outside of my body ever seemed to be enough. I called Randy at mile 20 and told him that I knew I wasn't going to be able to beat my Phoenix time. And he told me it was ok, that my time didn't matter. But I was heartbroken. I tried to tell myself to forget about my time and to just enjoy the rest of the race, but I'm not gonna lie, it was hard to enjoy that last leg of the race when the sun was just beating down and my goal time just kept slipping further and further away.

I knew it was the heat, and nothing else. And that the weather was out of my control. But it still bothered me. And I know I wasn't the only one who fell short of my goal. In the last several miles I passed runners who had bibs on their back that showed they were part of the 4:00, 4:15, and 4:30 pacing teams. A good hour off from their goal. I watched several runners being taken off of the course on stretchers with oxygen masks. And I was sad for them. One woman collapsed and was wheeled off on a stretcher towards an ambulance in a hurry, just 1 mile short of the finish line. I even ran behind a man in the last couple miles who had a 3:55 pacing team bib on his back. He was struggling to run, barely moving and limping on one leg. He was bright red, dripping sweat, and had a pained look on his face. He looked to be about in his 50's or so. His wife came from off the sidelines to put her arm around him and jog a little ways with him. She was wearing a t-shirt she had made special for the race to support her husband that said "Under 4 hours? No problem! You got this! 10.10.10" It was heartbreaking and brought tears to my eyes. I knew I wasn't the only one out there who felt dissapointed.

When I rounded that last corner and saw the finish line, I sprinted. And as much as I'd like to say I felt a sense of accomplishment when I crossed the finish line, I really just felt defeated. I was sad. I was on the verge of tears. I was sick to my stomach. And even threw up in my mouth a lil bit.

Yes, I finished. But no where near where I had hoped. I finished almost 30 minutes slower than my Phoenix time, coming in at 4:53:08. I mean, its not like I was trying to qualify for Boston or anything (cuz lets face it, thats just not a reality for me). But it is still really sad to set a goal for yourself and work so hard towards it, only to fall short of it in the end. I've never really thought of myself as a very competitive person, but when it comes to running I have learned that I am extremely competitive with myself. On the way home, I kept trying to shake the feelings of disappointment and discouragement I had, but I just couldn't. And I may have even shed one tiny tear on my husband's shoulder as we sat on the train ride home.

But today I am feeling a little better and trying to focus on the positive. I know I did my best yesterday. Even when it became pretty clear that I wasn't going to reach my goal time, I never stopped pushing myself. I still ran my hardest. And I still finished.

I love running. And I love running marathons. I don't think I am ever going to stop running marathons. Not every race is going to be perfect. Sometimes injuries happen. Sometimes the weather works against you. Sometimes a difficult course slows you down. Sometimes you fall just short of your goal. Sometimes its just not your day. And maybe this race just wasn't my day. But there will be other races.

And when I think back on this race, I want to remember the positive things.

The things that made me smile yesterday while I ran.

Like...

-the incredible energy and feeling at the starting line, taking off with 45,000 strangers to run 26.2 miles

-running through my fave neighborhood in Lincoln Park and high-fiving all the rich babies and toddlers in their high-end designer strollers

-reading on a sign a spectator held up "Hello perfect stranger! I am proud of you!"

-looking around at all the changing trees and seeing the bright orange and yellow leaves flutter down onto the street in front of us

-spectators standing out in their front yards spraying their hoses onto the course so that the runners could run through and cool down

-reading the back of one girls shirt I ran with for quite a while that said "Faster. Stronger. Awesomer."

-sitting next to a runner on the train whose shirt read "In my dreams, I run like a Kenyan."

-seeing a spectator sign that said "It's ok if you crap your pants."

-listening over and over to the Justin Beiber song "Never Say Never" from the new Karate Kid movie. I must have listened to it at least 10 times over the course of the race. Laugh all you want, but its actually a really awesome and inspiring motivational song. (And that says a lot coming from me, cuz I hate Justin Beiber!) :)

-taking cups of ice from aid stations and putting ice cubes down my cleavage :)

-listening to the crowds cheer us on from sides of the street the entire 26.2 miles. Incredible support from perfect strangers. I've always heard that the Chicago Marathon is known for drawing a huge amount of spectators...and it did not disappoint! There was not one spot in the race where the sidelines were empty or the crowd thinned out. Not once.

-rounding the last corner and seeing the finish line

-seeing Randy, Madden, Ashley, Dylan, Zoey, and Doug at the finish line and hearing Randy tell me how proud of me he was and how much he loved me

-sitting with Randy and Madden on the train ride home while Madden sat on my lap, hugging me and kissing my marathon medal :)

Aside from the crappy weather and my crappy time, I am still really happy I ran this race. I am in love with this city and it was a beautiful course, with amazing support from the spectators!

I haven't decided yet where or when my next marathon will be.

But I know I will run another one.

And maybe next time, weather permitting, I will be faster.

Stronger.

Awesomer.

:)