Somewhere along the 26.2 miles of the Chicago Marathon route I also just plain threw up...because I love distance running so much that I was willing to toss my cookies and still slog through the remaining 10 miles of the race to get to the finish line.
Thus is the adventure of running a marathon. Between the awe inspiring sunrise over Chicago at the starting line and the spirit shattering stretch between miles 22-23, just about every human emotion has its moment in the spotlight. I feel like a million bucks! I feel like I'm going to die! This is the most amazing thing I've ever done! This is the dumbest idea I've ever had! ...each takes its turn in prominence. That's why a marathon is such a human drama. You just never know what you're going to get, and at any given moment, what you get could look dramatically different.
There are a few shared experiences in the process of the race, however. Like, let's talk about the wall. I'm going to assume that the people who win marathons, or dedicate an absurd amount of hours/years to their training don't hit a wall, but for the rest of us out there just trying to survive, the wall is a common experience, recognizable at that point in the race where more people seems to be walking than running...or at least when the un-official pace group you were with seems to have all slowed down together by an average 20-30 seconds. Such is the wall.
At Mile 22, I hit the wall...but the wall was different this year. Here's what makes the wall hard. (And here J Word thinks, "Sheet rock!") In my first marathon effort when I reached the wall, I had never before been beyond it. My body screamed at me to stop, and I almost did because I wasn't certain that I could endure. This year at mile 22 my body screamed for me to stop again, and I would have, but I also knew that I didn't have to. I knew that if I could get to mile 23, with just over a 5k left, my mind would win, and I could talk myself through the last stretch of mileage.
And that's what happened. Mile 23 looked better than 22, and 24 looked even better, so that by the time I reached 25 it was in the giddy mindset of, "ONLY ONE MORE MILE!!!" It's also important to note that my "fail safe" motivator at this point was this little musical number that makes your run feel like the most epic thing to happen in the history of the world.
So Chicago has come and gone, and so will the race/training stories for now. The musical is in ramp up mode, quarter 1 is drawing to a fast close, and I'm off on fall break for the next few days, so I'll have a full chance to physically and mentally recoup before I have to hit the ground running (even just metaphorically) in the coming weeks.
Of course, I can't imagine there won't be any literal running thrown in for good measure (and sanity!) as well. So, as always, stay tuned.
Happy Trails,
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