The (overdue) Thank You

No tricks, just treats in the way of long overdue gratitude....
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Dear Chicago,
Thank you for hosting a great marathon. I now know why so many attempt their first marathons in your fair city. Not only is it a spectacular city with beautiful architecture, but the public art is something else -- The Bean was by far, handsdown, my favorite. I marveled at it every day, and raved about it to my friends. And the food! Don't even get me started.

The spectators, especially, deserve a giant gold star for their support. I had heard these spectators were world-class and they didn't let me down. The weather was not the friendliest, yet there they were spectators in spades, hooting and hollering for everyone at just about every point on the course. I cannot stress how much they helped distract me from negative thoughts, and their cheers helped carry me to the big finish.

Thanks for the golden memories. Maybe we'll meet again someday.

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Dear Chicago Marathon finishers, and my fans,
Thank you for following my progress. I hit some good lows during the program, but your advice always picked me up. I hit some good highs too, and thankfully, those were more often the case.

I tracked the blogs of my fellow Chicago Hopefuls-now-Finishers that became an important and integrated aspect of my training. My undying gratitude to Bob who had the foresight to chair Chicago-bound 2006 in blogland, and welcome me into the family. I have not met most of these souls (soles?), but I feel like I've known you for years. You educated me, allowed me to peek into your training programs, showed me how you fit life into your running life until the two were indistinguishable and just co-existed. It became my life too.

But not just the Chicago-bound were the only ones that propeled me to my successful finish at the 2006 Chicago Marathon. A shout out to my family, my friends, and other runners who blog or don't, though an acknowledgment must be made to Arcaner and Sonia for being frequent commentators. I salute those that had the courage to begin the training, wanted to run it, but due to unforeseen circumstances, were not able to triumph with us. But I share this achievement with them because they were still awesome supporters throughout the journey. And a special thank you to Emily who put this now-unridiculous idea to run a marathon in my head in the first place.

In the end, I can't say it better than Runnergirl did in a recent post when she said "You have more of an impact than you could possibly realize." It applies to everyone who helped me get to the finish line on Oct. 22.

Forever grateful.
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Dear Yumke and Frankie,
Was it only a year ago that I flippantly said I was going to run a marathon? Was it only that long ago that I convinced you to come aboard the crazy train to run for hours? I think I might have said "It's nice to have goals" as a reason to run a marathon. Because I never considered myself a runner when I set that goal. But I am now fully convinced that I've morphed, joined the club.

The three of us, as far as I can remember, never ran once together over the course of this past year. There were intentions declared early on once we made a pact to do this, but I think it's funny we had our first run together, a simple two-miler, the day before the marathon.

We each had our own training style. Frankie was totally into the group running. Yumke was totally solo. I was somewhere in the middle, like a jelly sandwich I guess.

I don't possess the natural ability to run like either of you, but the possibility that I was going to let either of you down scared me a lot. "Fear is a great motivator", is a saying that used to be taped to the side of Yumke's computer during our time at the school paper. The fear of failure was indeed a motivator to get up at 6AM on the hottest days of the summer to get that long run in; the fear of failure would convince me to skip the beer after work and get another 5 miles logged; the fear of failure kept me honest in this space -- and I thank Yumke for making me accountable through a blog.

We didn't have to run this together to be great friends, we already are. But there's no doubt we've grown even closer.
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Dear CMan,
Thank you for putting up with my insanity for, not just the last 12 years, but especially for the 18-weeks I put myself into training mode.
Thank you for not complaining about feeling neglected on Sunday mornings when I'd go out for a couple of hours for a long run. Thank you for not complaining the other six days of the week when I'd invariably be either complaining there aren't enough hours in a day to fit in a somewhat shorter run, or whining about sore calves.
Thank you for having spaghetti with me.
Thank you for picking me up from the park when I ran too far from home and overestimated my ability.
Thank you for buying epsom salts, then drawing a bath.
Thank you for the stylin watch that I'll use for many runs to come.
Thank you for following me around Chicago as best you could. I can't explain how your efforts to find me at several points on Marathon Day was so key to the success.
Thank you for all these points, and others during our lifetime, that are too numerous to list.

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Dear Jelly,
Thank you for never giving up even when that seemed like the easiest route out. Your mind is stronger for this, and you've learned that you are capable of setting goals and reaching them if you work hard enough. Hopefully this applies to other aspects of your life.

Your body is proud of you for losing nearly all the weight you had gained since university. You look great, and your mother thinks so too. But, your body especially thanks you, if only because this weight loss is crucial to your diabetes management.

For all the stress I've put on the body this training period, I'm sorry. You logged 409.33 training miles before you took your position at the starting line. That's some 83 hours of running. You would take 5:20:26 more to go the distance on Oct. 22. That's quite an accomplisment, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. The sore quads and hips, achy toes, and tense calves, week in and week out. Worth it? Hell ya. Consider this a warning..... there is more to come as long as you let me.

The week after

CMan had to fireman carry me up two flights of stairs on our first night home. Stairs were my enemies for days. I walked backwards down the subway stairs when no escalator was available to the great amusement of fellow commuters. I walked like a penguin til Wednesday. I finally got a massage on Thursday afternoon. I enjoyed telling anyone who would listen that I did what I set out to do, finish the marathon. I emailed the marathonfoto link around. I wore my new favorite shirt, the Chicago Marathon half-zippy, every other day because not only does it physcially keep me warm in The Office, but reminds me of how much fun I had doing what I thought was impossible nearly a year ago.

I have eagarly read and enjoyed the race reports, the aftermaths, of all my Chicago training partners.

I have taken the entire week to enjoy not running. I haven't thought about when my next run will be -- I haven't even taken my shoes out of my carry-on luggage. I've also spent the entire week indulging in everything I have eliminated or greatly reduced during training. After work on Wednesday I had my first beer since my sister's Kentucky wedding reception on the July holiday weekend (I don't know why I waited so long after the marathon!) I had more white wine than my poor confused body could handle at my cousin's wedding last night. I have had french fries at nearly every meal, McDonald's twice in consecutive days, and more dessert than I care to admit (especially to my doctor).

And that brings us to the question that's been asked over and over again this week.
"What's next?"

Still thinking about it....

Why rain on my parade?

Frankie and I work together. We have for years, and being at the same workplace has only strengthened our friendship that started back in university more than a decade ago. And our connection was further deepened by this marathoning fun.

And so is it any wonder that we're still yammering about this awesome achievement to each other constantly? We're loving this reliving of the moments created this past weekend. We are so proud of ourselves, of each other.

So, as is customary each morning, we say hello, how are you. That's what co-workers do, and friends may take that a step further and ask how the previous evening was. And we've been making sure to ask about each other's legs after the pounding these took on the weekend. We're both walking pretty normally now. Sunday and Monday was hard.

Anyways, the point of this rant is that BossLady saw us talking to each other on the phone this morning. And then she thought we were talking too long because sent us both an email saying "Isn't a half-hour chat with each other rather an unproductive way to start the day? Or is this a major business discussion that has major relevance for the news file?"

Why is she raining on my parade? (And she's exaggerating the time. It was more like 14minutes of casual conversation after 2 minutes of business.)

Frankie and I both wrote responses. But after careful consideration, and consultation with a couple of others, we decided not to send them because it would basically set up career suicide. Nor talk to BossLady about it. We get it. We'll not talk to each other so openly. We'll stick to instant messaging just like everyone else from now on.

Race Report -- Chapter 2A (the picture-worth-more-than-1000-words edition)

Veni, Vidi, Vici. Victory is mine in Chicago. A coworker of mine said I would feel like a god after completing a marathon. She is right. Will this feeling wear off or do I have to do this again to maintain it?

Placement:
Overall: 28956/33629
Gender: 11790/14720
Division: 2829/3442

Race Report -- Chapter Two (the long, drawn out, no-detail-too-small edition)

Alarm buzzed at 4:37 a.m. I wanted to get out of bed to eat my breakfast of Vector cereal and continue with the hydration, but the bed won for another 20 minutes. Groggily pushed the cereal into my mouth. Stretched a little bit. Decided to wear a long sleeve technical shirt over a technical singlet. I could toss the long sleeve if I needed to, I wasn't that attached to it. Capris. And gloves. And my yellow hat. I got my fuel belt to sit well on my hips and decided this would be okay to run with provided I skipped the water bottle.

I got my gear, kissed CMan goodbye and told him I'd look for him on the Randolph St. Bridge at the start. I didn't know when I'd see him after that since we didn't plan which mile markers he'd station himself. Oh well, lessons learned here.

Started the pilgrimage to the Start Line. The walk along Michigan Ave was one of the most amazing sights I'd ever seen. Just the mass of runners and supporters, some bundled up really well, others doing their warm-up jogs, and lots of people taking pictures. There was definitely an electric feeling in the air.

I stopped at the Trophy Tent -- a privilege for which I paid $25 back in the summer so that I could get accelerated gear check, pre/post race food, dedicated portapotties, and massage therapy after the race. I saw Frankie who was making his final stretches before leaving for his preferred start corral. No Yumke, but I was glad I was able to give him a good luck hug the night before after the carboload. I took my time. I wasn't going to jockey for a better position in the open corral. And the tent was beautifully warm, even if it had that muddy grass smell. I was in no hurry to go back out into the almost too-crisp air.

I emptied my bladder one last time. Saw Esther, a girl from the Running Room group I quit earlier in the summer. It was nice to see a familiar face, and while she was trying to find another RR member, we agreed to at least start together and look for the lost friend. I was pretty sure I wouldn't see Esther five seconds after we crossed the start.

The Start Line was buzzing. I chose a spot in between the 5:00 and 5:15 pace groups. I had signed up for the 5:00 group at the Expo though I really had no intention of running with them. I just wanted a pace band, though not the bib -- I was gonna have enough things stuck and flapping on my shirt as it was.

Springsteen's Born to Run blared on the speakers, and I imagined Frankie was going nuts. He'd later say that he hadn't heard it on the starting line. Maybe that's because it took him less than two minutes to get through the starting line. It took me nearly 20 minutes, that's how far back I was in the pack.

First 5K
All I could think was "I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe I'm here." I waved to CMan at the bridge as planned and kept going. He would later tell me he ran to the other side of the tunnel to take a picture of the back of my yellow-hatted head. I marvelled at all the spectators. I'd never seen so many out at a race. Then again, I've never run with 40,000 people either. And then I started getting misty-eyed. Already? Yeah, that's right.

Then I saw CMan again at the 3-mi mark. He didn't see me. I jumped him. Gave him a big kiss. Kept running.

10K
Still running a very comfortable clip at under 12 min/mi. I felt strong. I wondered if I could maintain the pace. Cough had decided to disappear. At least for now. Loved the park part of this leg of the course -- and it was a funny sight to see so many people run off course and find a tree.

Recognized Lisa because I saw her awesome running skirt. Said, "Hi, I'm Jellypepper." I think I may have said "You're looking strong. Keep it up" or something to that effect. Sorry Lisa I didn't run more than 30 seconds with you. Took my first walking break at the 6-mile mark. Figured I should take a gel now. Did I really just run all that without stopping? What was I thinking? Is this going to haunt me later on? Didn't I have a race plan?

Well, the short answer to that is no. I didn't have a real strategy. I didn't even really study the map. I know there are some who have each mile planned out, down to the second, knew when turns were coming up, and knew exactly when the gels were going to be consumed. I hadn't ever really got that whole walk/run thing down to a T. I mostly just keep going until I feel like I need a break.

CMan says he thinks he just missed me at the turn at Addison when the course turned south. He wouldn't catch up with me for a while.

I also made a critical decision here. I was hearing spectators cheering on Mikes, Jennys, Julies, and Loris all around me. I was jealous. I had taped my name to my back thinking this would be less intrusive, since my bib was on my stomach. But in what turned out to be the best thing I did, I unstuck it from my back and moved it to my chest. Now I wouldn't get 16 steps without hearing my name for practically the rest of the course. Is this what it feels like to be a rock star? Close enough.

15K-Halfway point/13.1 miles
The crowds along this stretch were awesome. So was the entertainment. I think this is where I saw two of the best signs on course: "Run like you stole something" and "Run Faster Stupid". Every mile so far, except for No. 6 and 11, were under 12 minutes. By the halfway mark, I glanced at my watch, and I hadn't PB'ed here, but I hadn't expected to either. I was supposed to run the first half slow, after all, though I don't think I really was following my own advice. I did feel I was going too fast, but not so fast beyond my capability. Then again, I guess I was right about on pace because the 5:00 pace bunny was never far out of my sight til this point. Had another gel around Mile 11.

20 miles
The section between the halfway mark and uncharted territory is a bit of a haze. I just remember wondering what I was in for once I took my first steps past the 20mile marker. I'd never run this far and while I believed in myself, I had trouble visualizing what 6 more miles meant. I must've gotten confused in this leg too because my fancy watch says I did mile 19 in 7:17. Then it said I did Mile 20 in 4:39. Hello?

My legs was holding up reasonably well, though I started to feel some pain on the sides of my feet -- much like I'd felt during the 20miler a few weeks ago. I'd taken a pretty long walk break at Mile 16 after I started to wheeze real hard. That turned into quite the coughing fit. It calmed down as I sucked on another cough candy.

Mile 21/22 (Chinatown)
I was starting to feel a twinge of sadness that I hadn't seen CMan since the Mile 3. It'd been more than 3 hours since I'd seen him. I started to curse our unpreparedness in establishing cheering points; maybe I just didn't see him in the crowds.

But again, I have to give kudos to the crowd. It was clearly not a warm day, yet they came out in spades. They saved me, shielded me from my own negative thoughts. This is where I patted myself on the back for switching my name to the front. Because I kept hearing "Go Jelly!" Best feeling ever.

Then magically, at the turn into Chinatown, there he was. I spotted the familiar green ballcap on the outside corner. I accelerated towards him and flung my arms around him. And then I started to cry again.

CMan was immediately concerned, thinking I was crying from injury, but really I was just so elated to see him there. It'd been a tough middle course -- my mental game was breaking down just a little -- and the sides of my feet were really starting to want more of my attention. I whispered to him that I was okay, that I was just really happy to be where I was, that he was there, and that I didn't have that much more to go. He kissed away some tears and pushed me to continue.

And because I was blubbering on as I ran away, my silly tears shifted my left contact lens and curled into a corner of my eye. I couldn't blink it back into place and had to move off course to fix it. And I had trouble doing so, partly because it was windy and the window I was trying to use as a mirror was pretty dusty. But I got back on track.

But, during the time it took for me to finally get my eye trouble sorted out, the exhaustion seemed to have caught up in my legs which had completely stopped moving for the first time in more than 4 hours now. I had about one more hour to go at my current pace.

I didn't think I had stopped that long to fix my eyes, but my watch says it took me half an hour to finish one mile. Maybe I had trouble restarting and I took more walking breaks that mile. I stopped to stretch out some of the tightening calves. And hacked some more.

Mile 23-25
Tough, tough, tough. My feet were definitely bothering me now, but I soldiered on. I didn't like seeing runners going in the opposite direction just one street over. And because I didn't study that map, I didn't know how much further I was going that way before coming back this way. And the spectators were few in some of these parts too.

I saw a Canadian hat just ahead of me. I caught up beside it, and realized I knew the woman wearing it. Small world. She hangs out at the same gym as I. We encouraged each other on. I wanted to stay with her, but my energy was depleting quickly. I let her go ahead. I had another cough to get out.

Then I heard a whistle, and there CMan was again! He came onto the course, just before Mile 25, and jogged a little bit beside me, trying to capture a few more photos for posterity. I wanted to slow to a walk with him but he said I had to finish strong, and that he knew I could do it.

The Final Mile and 385 yards
I got myself together and trucked on. As I approached the 800m sign I could hear the crowd going wild, not just for me but for everyone who was less than a kilometer from the finish. I fed off that energy, and accelerated. I remembered how I finished the Scotiabank half marathon a month earlier, picking off people one by one at the end. I saw the "hill" and pretty much told it to go to hell, it was not going to slow me down. I flew up that hill, and turned the corner. This was it. I could see the finish line. I was going to finish this. I sprinted that last stretch like I was stealing something.

Raised my arms in victory, yelling all the way across the FINISH LINE.

Yelled some more, fist pumping, beaming as I accepted my medal, a cup of Gatorade, returned my chip, got a shiny space blanket. It was a super long walk through the chute. I hobbled my way back to the Trophy Tent. I was disappointed they had no more soup left and the thought of beer actually made my stomach turn. I collected my gear, and gobbled half a sandwich, skipped the massage and without Yumke or Frankie in the tent to celebrate, I left to find CMan.

I reunited with him and found that my ability to walk was rapidly waning. My sister and her husband found us near Buckingham Fountain and we made our way towards our hotel...which was so close yet so far. My body now just wanted to shut down.

I fought against it and limped best I could for two more blocks. It was odd walking along the same street where, some SIX hours ago, I was jumping up and down ready to rock this marathon.

Then my feet just stopped cooperating. I couldn't plant my foot without wincing. We hailed a cab to take us 2-1/2 blocks. Worth every penny.



Next: Race Report-Chapter 3 (The Aftermath)

Race Report -- Chapter One (just the hard numbers)

via chip:
START: 8:19:18 AM CST
5K: 0:35:45
10K: 1:11:53
15K: 1:47:13
20K: 2:24:23
HALF: 2:31:58
25K: 3:01:58
30K: 3:39:11
35K: 4:23:29
40K: 5:04:14
FINISH: 5:20:26

Pace: 12:13

Mile Splits
... according to my new watch. And I messed up with the button pushing near the end. Some of the signs confused me.

First 5 miles -- 11:19/11:45/11:33/11:08/10:49
Second 5 miles -- 12:49/11:22/11:17/11:17/11:28
Third 5-miles -- 12:24/11:46/11:51/11:13/11:22
Fourth 5-miles -- 14:30/11:28/12:27/7:17/4:39
Fifth 5-miles -- 11:57/30:34/12:11/13:54/14:51
The final mile -- 13:14

Pre-race days

(major problems logging onto blogger in the past 24 hours .. apologies for the delay in posting)

THURSDAY
I got into Chicago in the afternoon after an annoying half-day of work. The limo driver asked me if I was aiming to qualify for Boston. Barely missing a beat, I said with the time that I expected to finish the race, I would need to age really quickly in a few days and be between 70-79 years old on Sunday. That produced a good chuckle. I went to Chicago a day earlier with CMan before Yumke and Frankie because we wanted to enjoy the city a little before I had to hunker down and meditate about the race. The flight was pretty uneventful, except for the hacking noises I was making the whole 1-1/2 hours there. When that settled down, I decided to keep things interesting and get a nosebleed that didn't seem to want to stop. If it's not one thing, it's another.

Decided to get to the hotel via the inexpensive and not quite direct route on the train. Before hopping on the train, noticed a group of whom I assume where the Kenyans (I'm not sure why I'm saying they were The Kenyans, but they just looked the part, okay? Sue me.) and while I wanted to ask if in fact they were the Kenyans, I decided it'd be best -- just as I would 24 hours later with Mr. Higdon -- to not breathe anywhere near their airspace, infect them, and cause them to race poorly. I still don't think I was contagious at this point, but I'm a stereotypically polite Canuck and thought it the most courteous course of action.

Checked into the Fairmont after a long train ride. Put up my feet. Called Yumke and Frankie and proclaimed how cold it was in the Windy City. Rested. Then CMan and I walked up to the MagMile, and headed to ESPN Zone where we thought we'd be able to get a table and watch some baseball. No luck. The wait was 90 minutes. We walked to a few more places, each with waits of more then 30 minutes. This appeared to be a precursor to what foraging for food may be like in a city hosting 40,000 runners, staff, and fans. Good thing Frankie planned ahead and got us reservations for the pre-race carboload, and the post-race gorgefest. Anyways, got a table at microbrewery Rock Bottom, which in hindsight kind of sucked since I wasn't going to be sampling the beer that night. Back at the hotel, watched "The Break Up" with Chicago starring alongside Jennifer and Vince. Slept fitfully because of stupid cough. Go away cough. Do you realize the marathon is on Sunday?

FRIDAY
Woke up early because cough made me. Just as well since Frankie and Yumke were both due in by 10am. Got their text messages, met them for breakfast. Told Frankie that CMan and I were opting to stay at the Fairmont, out of Frankie's airspace, because my cough was keeping me up at night. Why ruin Frankie's race with my hacking? Best to quarantine myself, a prospect I brought up before leaving for Chicago. Besides, he'd been avoiding me at work all week, communicating only through phone and instant messaging, even though we practically sit next to each other. And when we did talk, we couldn't face each other. I think it was little overdramatic on his part, but I know he worked too hard this far to be felled now. He was protecting himself. And the whole office was just a sick entity and picking a new victim every few days.
Then we went to the Expo. Saw the big countdown clock showing we were 43 hours from The Start. Collected our goodies and we each bought official New Balance merchandise. We all vowed to not wear our purchases until we earned the right -- after finishing. I bought this zippy pullover in a light and dark turquoise. And CMan bought me shoes.
We took a walk to Navy Pier, and had some surprisingly decent pasta. What to wear dominated dinner conversation. We were in good spirits. The antsiness about the weather was mounting. We just wanted to run. The weather had been perfect all day and we lamented how it probably wasn't going to come back for an encore performace on Sunday.

SATURDAY
The three of us met in the morning for a test run. Met at Buckingham Fountain. We ran a couple of miles together, though Yumke went and did his own thing when we neared the Hancock Tower. Meanwhile Frankie and I dodged pedestrians on the MagMile. We ducked into Niketown, only because I'd read about their customized pace bands. These were nifty things, though on race day I was less excited about them. More about that in the race report.
Had a nap immediately upon return from this short run. Exhausted. I didn't know if that was a bad sign of my fitness level or if it was just because I hadn't had a decent night's sleep in 10 days. I coughed only a little bit during the run. But it was nice to get the legs moving. I had worn my racing clothes, as well as a windbreaker. Too warm with the windbreaker. Good that I figured that out. I would definitely be leaving that in the hotel room for race day. Spent the afternoon with CMan and walked way too much. But he bought me a sleek watch, a Nike Imara Run.
Big delicious pre-race dinner with Frankie and his brother and father, Yumke and R, and me and CMan at Rosebud in the theater district. Frankie's family, who also told great stories, generously picked up the tab. They shouldn't have but we all very much appreciate the gesture.

Returned to hotel. Pinned my bib to my shirt. Attached the chip. Drank some water. Then time for sleep. But that stubborn cough wouldn't let me. I didn't fall asleep til around midnight. Way too late. Would this hurt me?


(more to come....)

Face to face with the man

The man with the plan is Hal Higdon. I read his book cover-to-cover countless times from the day Yumke gave it to me for my birthday to this past weekend. It was a good read everytime, and so much so that I bought a copy for Frankie for his birthday too almost one year ago. It was filled with all sorts of tips for a first-time marathoner like myself. I wrote my own notes in some of the margins, and dog-eared a few favorite pages. I reread many passages, especially those about injury, nutrition, and pyschology, and thoroughly enjoyed, just as he promised, every time the word "REST" came up in the book and on the training schedule.

On Friday, I came face-to-face with the man. I did my research ahead of time, and knew Higdon had a booth at the expo. I packed my book in my knapsack, hoping that if he was at his booth when I was wandering the expo, I'd ask him to sign it. I've only ever lined up once for someone to autograph my book before this, and that was for Anthony Bourdain, my culinary chef hero, when he released Les Halles Cookbook: Strategies, Recipes, and Techniques of Classic Bistro Cooking.

I had several thoughts running through my head while in line waiting with my cohorts. I'm not easily starstruck, but I was still getting a little lightheaded at the prospect of meeting the man. I'd been following his words like it was the gospel for nearly a year.

What would I say to him?

Frankie managed to ask about what to wear, and we were advised of a singlet underneath a throw-away longsleeve. I can't remember if he said shorts or pants, if he said anything about bottoms at all, but if he did, he probably said don't wear anything that you hadn't trained in before.

I was still battling a terrible cough. I was concerned about finishing. I wanted to ask him if I'd be okay despite taking the taper to new heights (depths?) because of being sick, and condense into 5 sentences or less everything that I've blogged about for the last 150+ posts. I wanted to say something eloquent.

Instead, when it was my turn I was able to muster a polite hello, say something nice about his book and his training plan, and asked very nicely, if not somewhat shyly, to sign the book. I opted not to shake his hand, thinking about my health and not wanting to infect anyone else. Not that I thought I was contagious anymore, but it was more just out of courtesy because I'm sure I'd been coughing all day into my hands.

I asked him to inscribe it to Jelly, even spelled it out, but somehow he heard it as "Gelly" -- there's a pic on Yumke's blog -- because he started to talk about how he knew someone named Angelica and he called her Gelly.

Oh well. My name isn't Angelica, as those who are adept at online investigative research may have already figured out by now. One day I may explain how I became Jellypepper.

Mission Accomplished: I am a marathoner

Chip Time: 5:20:26

I know you were wondering. Wish I could've posted that earlier, but I've obviously been (woefully) out of technology's touch since leaving for Chicago last Thursday. So much to say... here's are the chapters I'm working on, in no particular order:

Face to Face with the man
Pre-race days
Race report
The aftermath
Looking ahead
The Thank You Note
An Open Letter

And a shout out to all the Chicago Marathoners. I haven't been able to get to all of your race reports yet, but based on some very early readings, what else can I say, but YOU ROCK!
You did it!
Be proud.

Mission Possible

I've been thinking hard about my race strategy for the last few days,
just as everyone else has. It's difficult to judge how I'll hold up --
the cough hasn't disappeared and a 3-mi test run yesterday indoors
probably wasn't the greatest barometer of what I will do come Sunday.

But I do know that I have trained hard for 15 of the 18 weeks. I took a
week off in September, and basically these last two of the taper. I hit
that proverbial wall during my one-and-only 20-miler, but now that I've seen it, I know what I have to do to
get past it. I am hoping spectators, the Chicago blogging family, my
other fans (you know who you are), and my sheer will, will all combine
as a force to see me to the end of this very long road. But that's only
part of it. I also trust in my training.

Along the way, I set some mini, and very attainable
, goals. All designed to make me think about how I run and how to
improve, and to keep me focused on a series of sm
aller projects toward to the big show. Each one accomplished.

But the very first goal I had, the most important one, is one that pops
up everyday on this page -- right there in the title. A 26.2-mile
Goal: A journal of one Toronto girl's goal to complete
the 2006 Chicago marathon.

This is all I want. To complete. Get A Finishing Medal.

Over the course of this training for my first marathon, I've done very
little of the fancy things like V02max, fartleks, hill training, keeping
track of my heart rate, etc. etc. But I don't feel any less prepared.

Time matters very little to me, but enough to for me to say I want no
part in being moved to the sidewalk. Based on my half-marathon result,
the McMillan Running Calculator says I should be able to do it in
4:52:27. I don't want to make excuses ahead of the race, but I can't
ignore this cough. It's there and I now do not believe it will go away
in time. It should be factored in. I don't intend to take unnecessary
walking breaks, but I must respect what my body tells me. There is
no shame in going for a long walk here. It's not what I want to
do, but I will if I must. But I will finish and I'll
still PR. :)

So I expect to finish, and finish somewhere with a 5-hour-and-change
time stamp.
But as my sister M so beautifully reminded me:

not just anyone can run and walk 26.2 miles. you've been
training for it and you can. Dont' you think in a way the 20 miles that
you ran was quite a feat in itself? i know the whole goal was to the
marathon, but really, the goal was for you to train and get fit. and
look how fit you are...skinny minnie! by all accounts, i'd say you've
already succeeded.

Best of luck to all my Chicago training partners. It's been quite the
journey and we only have a little bit more to go. It is an honor to
share this experience with each and every one of you. Run hard, run
smart, run like you know you can.

Packed

My bags are packed. Race gear -- ready for rain, cold, sunshine -- in the carry-on. New iPod currently charging but so far devoid of any songs. Everything else, including gels, cereal, and extra safety pins, in the suitcase I'm sharing with CMan. Who has yet to pack. But he's got all morning. I, on the other hand, still have to put in a half day of labor because BossLady sucks. At this point, it's going to be sleepy labor.

Reunion

My running shoes and I got reacquainted today for the first time since I fell sick what seems like an eternity ago. It was a fabulous reunion. I remember why we've become such good friends.

I started off walking at a slow, perhaps too-comfortable pace, and after 10 minutes I was bored. I knew I could do better. So I stepped up the pace to 15min/mi, a light jog, for another 10 minutes. I was breathing just fine. I didn't feel any violent cough attacks pending. So, I pushed it further to my regular "training pace" of around 12min/mi. And this just wasn't enough... I pushed it to what I figure is my "healthy race pace" of just above 11min/mi and guess what? I felt great. Who knows if I'll be able to sustain that or better pace come race day. Still working out a race strategy.

This one tiny run put a lot of my crazy headgames of doubt to rest. Worries built up over the past 10 days about my fitness level went *poof* in just 43 minutes today. I am so elated.

25339

Finally, I'm really official now. The email came through. I am No. 25339. One less thing to worry about.

I think my body is finally getting the message. After my rant post yesterday, I slept through the night for the first time in days. Which means I feel good enough to try to go to the gym today and get my legs moving again in a meaningful way. I'm aiming for a 30 minute walk on the treadmill, nothing strenuous. Not brave enough to go outside just yet, though today's balmy 12C weather and very slight breeze is tempting.

Numberless, and other numbers to think about

1) Two days before departure, five days before race day, I still have no sign of a bib number. Not in snail mail or email. (I checked online again to see that I had actually signed up for this Chicago marathon, not dreamed it.)
2) I'm not healthy. Still sick. It's been more than a week now.
3) Nine days without putting on a pair of running shoes.

It's like somebody, something, somewhere really doesn't want me to do this. Well, it's not funny.

Of course, I say that in (semi)jest. But items 2 and 3 above have made me reconsider my race strategy. More on this tomorrow. I need to sleep on it.

Zero

Week 17 Tally: Zero miles. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Nothing. A big goose egg for every scheduled run in last week's training diary.

I don't even feel that bad about this anymore. After all, I was sick the entire week. And better last week than this. Scores of you have told me not to worry because I have done all the hard work already, really. But I can't help it, I do worry. I still may yet get one or two lights jogs in before race day, and I think that will help calm me down. I leave for Chicago on Thursday afternoon. I'm unsure if I've already done my last training run on Canadian ground.

I've spent the last week resting and thinking about the race, and I was able to muster up a little bit of optimism while backreading a lot of my own blog. I think I have formed habits for life -- eating well, cutting back on alcohol, and sticking to a plan. No long run has defeated me. There is no reason that this Sunday will be any different. I am really looking forward to this Chicago experience. All of it. From possibly meeting some of the others from the blogosphere, the race expo, the crowds, the architecture, pizza, the electricity of the city. Chicago, I'm ready for ya.


And because I forgot to tally it up last week:
Week 16 Tally: 29 miles. (How's that for a taper?)
Training to date: 404.33mi/650.71K

Skinny Minny

I know I've shed some pounds since I started seriously training for this marathon. Something was bound to happen with all those hours of training and eating better. But I didn't really know, until today, how much I've benefited. I have noticed some of my pants have been fitting better, or not at all in some cases. Friends and family have commented on how fit I look, probably the fittest in 10 years.

Anyways, besides the comments from my sister everytime she sees me -- "you're such a skinny minny" -- I now have actual proof.

Back in July when I was in Kentucky for sister's wedding, we also purchased bridesmaids dresses for my cousin's wedding, which is one week after the race. This gorgeous fire-red number. When I tried it on in the store, I could get the dress on so that it fit but it didn't look so right, but not so wrong that an alteration wouldn't fix it. I had trouble taking the dress off, which really means it wasn't the right size to begin with but this store doesn't exist in Canada and there were no other sizes in the store and maybe my pride was talking a little bit too. So I really had to bank on this alteration to work in my favor otherwise I was going to be pretty screwed. But the more pressing problem at that moment was that I couldn't get the dress off by myself. I had to secretly ask CMan to slip into the dressing room with me and help me maneuver out of it. No, no dressing room shenanigans. This is a PG story.

Fast forward about three months to today. The wedding is fast approaching and perhaps I should see if those alterations need to be made because I hadn't thought about it for about 2-1/2 months. So I took it out of its wrapping, pulled the dress over my head, and I didn't even have to wriggle into it!! I am so pleased.

Health update: My cough is winding down and there's no more pleghm. I've been drinking a lot of water, tea, hot water with lemon and honey. Which basically means I need to pee every hour. At least I'm hydrated, right?

... and if you haven't seen Running Jayhawk's ode. GO. Pure inspiration.

Curbside Crew

Time for some positive news. My sister, brother-in-law, and CMan are my curbside crew for the marathon. By happy coincidence, my sister and her husband will be flying through Chicago on marathon weekend to visit some family in Milwaukee. They plan to see me sometime on Sunday, though probably not til after the marathon to celebrate. But they'll be getting the race updates, as can you, via the Runner Update Network. CMan, of course, will fireman carry me home.

Now I better get better so I can give them something to cheer about! (Thanks to the masses for the well wishes. I still don't feel I've turned the corner, but I'm keeping positive.)

"Doubtful"

That word, not unlike "toast", is ringing in my ears as I left the doctor's office. I am mindful that this is not my regular doctor, that I resorted to the walk-in clinic across the street from work, but this doctor told me that a marathon was "doubtful" at this point. She did not specify whether that meant to start, or to finish. Neither of which is really acceptable to me anyway. I told her normally I wouldn't go to the doctor with the symptons I had, that I'd usually let them run their natural course, but with the marathon so close I needed something to help speed the recovery.

First bit of advice ClinicDoc gave me was to ditch the over-the-counter drugs. Those weren't doing a thing to help me, only to prolong the sickness. Then she said it'd probably take five days to clear up... which would still leave me a few days before actual race day. But then I go back to doubting my fitness level, my strength.

What I need are lots of fluids and rest. So that's what I'm doing this weekend? Drinking and sleeping it off. I mean sipping water and napping lots. Whatever. I was also prescribed a nasal spray, but ClinicDoc said I didn't have to use it(!) Great. Like what does that mean? It means that if my condition doesn't clear up in two days to start spraying. Okay .....

Bottom Line: I have worked too long, too hard, for Oct. 22. I am going to be at the starting line, rain or shine, or even at this point, snow. I am going to cross the finish line, even if I have to crawl there. I WILL.

Starting to worry

I missed a week of training earlier this year due to a personal choice to watch movies. Here I am again watching movies, but wanting to run. Weird.

This has been a tough couple of days. The only exercise I've done since Sunday's long run is dragging my sorry sick self from my 3rd floor bedroom to the basement to watch tv and back to the first floor to make tea and eat leftover Thanksgiving mashed potatoes. I had not left the house for two days. I went to work today, probably a mistake, and partly out of boredom. I might lobby to leave early.
The 10-minute walk to the subway this morning was about the most I could handle. I will not be running tonight because I'm still coughing, although intermittently. I may not run tomorrow to give myself another day to recover. Hopefully by Saturday or Sunday, I'll be ready to do the final week of taper activities.

Yes, I am starting to get antsy about what this means come race day. I know a few days off isn't going to completely unravel all the training to date, because what counts is what I've done throughout the whole program. The totality. And I've pretty much done my best. I know I can get to the finish line if all is in order.

But what happens if I can't shake this cold?

Pajama Day

No 4mi for me today. Stayed home to recuperate from this nasty cold/headache/sore throat thing I've caught. While I feel much better after a day of catching up on TV, napping, and eating congee, I'm contemplating taking another sick day. I need to be strong and healthy for race day. And as a number of people have said to me today -- better sick now than next week.

Giving thanks

Gobble Gobble! It's Thanksgiving here in Canada, and it coincides with a rest day. Yippee! The last of the 17 guests -- whom we fed a feast of turkey, homemade stuffing, mashed spuds, roasted root vegs, nut loaf, with some other tasty contributions from the other girls in the family -- have just left and finally I can attend to my splitting headache and sore throat! Yes, I'm sick. And I do blame yesterday's cold bath.

But before I change back into my flannel pjs and have a spoonful of Nyquil, this holiday is about giving thanks. So here is a small list, and in no particular order.

I am thankful for:
-- a dishwasher, especially today
-- my friends and family
-- my health plan
-- CMan, of course

And you. The one reading my blog right now. Because for some reason you care how I'm doing on this whole marathon business. Thank you. The goal is within reach.

Now go away cold.

Last double digit training run

The last double-digit long run, 12 miles, is done. The most I'll do in one day is 8mi for the remainder of this training program. I'd like to say today's run was easy, but everything seemed kind of against me doing well today, at first. Even though it was a gorgeous day for running -- 18C, all sun, light breeze -- I had trouble leaving the house. I was kind of tired, despite having slept a good 8 hours. My Garmin wasn't charged up. Neither was my iPod (even though I've been leaving it at home lately, today I really wanted it). Even my shoes didn't feel right. More on this in a minute.
I eventually got my act together and left for a midday run. I picked a route that was long on the the trails, rather than on the city streets. I didn't really start to feel good about the run until I hit the trails, about 2-1/2 miles in ... and that's when my senses took over. The air smelled like autumn. The only sounds I heard were bicycles whizzing past me, or the rustle of leaves. I felt the leaves crunching underfoot. The colors -- reds, oranges, yellows -- were stunning. I wish the camera on my cellphone could do justice to what I saw. Even the chocolate power gel tasted different (ok, maybe that's because it was one of those fancy new ones with the added sodium).

I slipped my headphones off...the SundayMorningTaper mix I made this morning would get its due attention later on when I returned to the neighborhood streets. The natural beauty of this trail didn't make me run any faster. In fact, I think I ran slower to enjoy it more. I returned home in just over 2-1/2 hours.

Partway through the run, I felt a little bit of pain on the sides of my feet, mostly in the two outer toes. I had this problem earlier in the week. It hasn't bothered me too much, but enough to get me to start questioning whether my body will hold up for and during the race. I think it will, I have to believe it will. But it's been suggested that perhaps it's my socks and I should try thinner ones that may make the difference. I don't think it's my shoes, because I've had quite a good time with them for the last month. But then again, I only noticed this slight pain after last week's 20miler. Are the shoes just good enough for 16 miles at a time?

To combat this pain, I made myself sit in cold water for 10minutes. Not quite an ice bath and maybe it won't have quite the same total effect either. So far it doesn't hurt when I walk, though I am moving a bit awkwardly -- but really no different than after any other long run. Maybe it's just my head again. Thirteen days to go.

Pizza Thursday

CMan and I have somehow started having pizza almost every Thursday since we moved. And so as to not break from this newfound tradition, I planned my 8-mile route to end at the pizza shop. I memorized my route and off I went, decked out in my new pink half-zip long sleeve shirt and gloves (it's chilly out there!).

I started off at a very quick clip, finishing the first mile in under 10 minutes. At the end of that mile, my friend Rob, his wife and new baby drove by; we all paused to talk for a minute before cars approached. Turns out Rob and family were driving to one of the nearby trails to run. None of this city route for them ... it's not so safe while running with a baby stroller. I briefly thought about jumping in their car, since trails are much nicer, as is the company -- I dare not go trailrunning by myself once the sun starts rapidly retiring. But then I thought it'd be a real blow to my confidence if I couldn't keep up with both of them while they pushed a stroller. Parted ways.

Second mile was also under 10 minutes. I thought I should slow down; this pace wasn't sustainable. Halfway through the run, I decided to change the route and keep it fairly flat. The original route would've taken me downhill towards the water. I picked a pretty noisy route, all main streets and mostly because the light was disappearing quickly. The cars often overpowered my tunes today -- though not that it mattered since the iPod conked out shortly before Mile 5. So I took my mocha gel and trucked on. Pizza signs along the way kept reminding me of the prize at the end of this run. And the pizza dreams turned into the deep dish pie I imagine I'll have shortly after the last step of the marathon.

My improvised 8-miler route worked out to the final step.

One pepperoni, thick crust, please.

Windy City

Forget Chicago. They should rename Toronto the Windy City.

Each direction I ran today, no matter north, south, east or west, seemed to be against the wind. My mood completely matched the sky, all grey. Although I did perk up a little bit at Mile 3 when I could see a touch of blue sky emerging. But the cloud cover quickly came back. And the wind never let up.
It wasn't an easy 4-mile outing... and that was just half of what I was scheduled for. I basically did Thursday's workout today.

I cut the effort short, having decided that before I even laced up, partly because the NHL opened its season tonight -- and so I wanted to be done and riding the couch by the time the puck dropped at 7:30pm.
Oh, I was done alright. I dozed off not long after the first period. Not that the Leafs gave me anything to really stay up for.

I'll make up the miles tomorrow.

((Couch update: CMan had some sort of epiphany. We moved some stuff around, including the TV. I think I might actually be able to live with the new arrangement. Let me marinate on that. No angry calls to the store yet.))

Grouchy about couches

Hal said to do 5 miles today. Oh boy was it ever hard to get out there though. And this is because my new black leather couches for the basement arrived today...designed to make a winter of couch potatoland all the more enjoyable. Except there was one problem.

These don't fit with the room. They don't look right because they're too big -- not overstuffed, just too large for the room of our size. And before you say why didn't you measure, etc etc, I blame the interior designer. Yah, that's right. How could a professional get it so wrong? He came over, measured, went back to the store and played with some computer program. It spit out this black leather couch and companion loveseat. We loved them instantly.

But one of them has to go back. CMan and I tried to position the couches differently than was suggested. Nothing worked. So I'm tasked with phoning the salesman tomorrow and bitch until I get what I want. Which is a full refund and no 30-percent restocking fee.

Well, the moral of this story is that I turned a lot of negative energy into a pretty quick 5-miler. It was dark by the time I'd started, more than an hour since Frankie had phoned to ask if I'd gone and run yet. He too was putting today's run off. But he said "taper doesn't mean don't run".

How true.

The next phase: Taper

The day-after aches and pain report:
* Legs: A little sore. Some trouble climbing stairs.
* Feet: No blisters. Both pinkies feel bruised though.
* Arms and upper torso: Right shoulder feels tight, but it almost always does.

In other words, everything, physically, feels normal after a long run.

And just as important, mentally, I'm still riding high from yesterday's Big 20. Here's hoping that feeling sticks for the next 21 days. I realize I hit the proverbial wall at yesterday's Mile 18, but I have seen it and can now deal with it.

Because in this next cycle of the training plan, there is no more time for reservations, hesitations, questions. I have put faith into a running plan, executed it to the best of my ability for 15 straight weeks now. I have hit some serious lows, to the point where quitting crossed my mind. But for each low, there have been twice as many, if not more, highs. One big reason is the Chicago-bound blogosphere of marathoners. Some of you support me through comments, some of you just read in from time to time, but the effect is all the same. And I think it's more or less the same in reverse -- reading, but not always commenting, about your great achievements and struggles help me understand my own quest. So a hearty thank you, and I know I don't say so enough. (Where are my manners?)

Here's just one more reason to believe:
Week 15 tally: 35.8mi/57.6K (The Big 20 is history)
Training-to-date: 375.33mi/604.04K

I greet this last phase of training with growing excitement for Oct. 22. The taper has begun. We're almost there. It's within reach. Three weeks to go and the finish line is mine. No, ours.