Everything Hurts and I'm Dying For the Second Time: Chicago Marathon Recap

It took approximately 3 days after running the New York City Marathon to sign up for another one. I mean, we were still walking funny and nursing blisters and sore feet. Yet somehow, the next race calls to you. Or, at least, it does when you are crazy runner people like us. And by some miracle, both Jason and I got into the Chicago Marathon through the lottery. Seemed meant to be.

So we went from first-timers with nothing to lose, to veterans who understood what 26.2 miles look and feel like. And this time, we wouldn't have the support of a charity team behind us. But, I mean, we knew what we were doing so, no biggie, right?

Then a funny thing happened. One day in June (ie. 4 months before the marathon), I stood up from the couch and thought "huh, my knee kinda hurts." So, the short version went like this: xray (they didn't see anything wrong)>orthopedist>6 weeks of physical therapy>so so many painkillers>lots of tears and frustration>no running. A month before the marathon, not feeling any better, I decided the hell with it and went for a run to see if I could power through the pain. I returned to the house after 6 miserable miles in tears, resigned to the idea that I wasn't going to be able to run.

Well, a quick investigation of our plans lead us to realize that nothing was refundable. Not the AirBnB, the flights or the race registration. We were in deep and would lose it all if we chose not to go. Which lead us to the, probably very silly, decision to just do it. So we packed our bags and headed to Chicago!

That's how I ended up at the starting line of the Chicago Marathon having run a total of about 10 miles in the months leading up to the race. For comparison, Jason completed most of our training plan, clocking close to 400 miles. And those miles train not only your legs and lungs, but your feet, your stomach and your mind. You practice pacing, stretching, endurance, nutrition, hydration and patience. And I had skipped all of it. (insert nervous laughter)

But at least my nails were ready.

The adrenaline-laced atmosphere in the starting corral is tough to explain. You and the thousands of people around you are bouncy and nervous and full of pent-up energy. Everyone is ready to start this incredibly insane venture that is so physically and mentally tough, yet it feels like a party with everyone laughing and joking and practically wiggling with excitement.

For our second marathon in a row, it was raining. So we started the race already wet and cold, though it was nothing compared with New York. The gun went off and we crossed the start line. We knew we didn't really have a shot of beating our New York time, considering the major disadvantage I was starting with. In fact, I gave myself about a 30% chance of actually finishing. But my goal was to run as long as possible and be there for Jason who had stuck with his training and deserved a great finish.

The course wound through Grant Park and entered the city. My knee hurt from the very first step but I pushed the pain to the back of my mind and tried to focus on having a good time. About a mile and a half in, I pulled my phone out of my arm band to take this picture, because it was just so cool! It was the only picture I took during the race. 

We got about 6 miles in and my knee was killing me. But in a totally unfair and unexpected move, my body decided that wasn't good enough and my right knee joined in the party, probably because I was favoring my injured left knee. At the next aid station I pulled over and grabbed a big healthy glob of BioFreeze (aka Bengay) and slathered my right knee with it. Unfortunately, I couldn't access my left knee because I had heartily covered it in KT tape in an attempt to shore it up as long as possible. The BioFreeze helped almost immediately and we ran on with 20 miles to go. 

Slowly the miles passed. We managed to laugh at the funny signs the spectators were holding, point out the city sights that we were passing and keep our pace up. I managed pretty well for awhile, consider how out of running-shape I was. When I got to mile 10 I started to believe that I might just possibly be able to do it. The pain was bad, but not unbearable. Having Jason running every step beside me is honestly the only reason I had made it that far. He encouraged me at every step and I only told him to shut up a few times :)

We made it to the half way mark. A half marathon under our belts and I became absolutely determined to finish. I mean once you hit half-way, you are almost done, right? So we plugged on. But after 13 miles, I quickly started to go downhill. My knees were killing me, but by then, my quads, my hamstrings and my calves had joined in. And while this is totally normal for long distance running, it was something mine just weren't prepared for at all. And my energy started to wane, even with the energy chews I was taking every few miles. 

I told myself to get to mile 16. Somehow I thought that if I kept running that far, that I would be able to finish. Mile 15 took FOREVER. I started to cry (definitely not the last time that was going to happen!). Finally, finally, we passed the sign for mile 16 and I slowed to a walk. My energy was zapped. My legs were on fire and my confidence was shot. 

My amazing husband pulled me in for a reality check. "Listen," he said. "Even if you walk to the end, you'll still finish." The race has a cut off time after which you aren't considered an official finisher. And god damn it, I had just run 16 miles. I couldn't let that happen. 

So for the next 10 miles I alternated between running and walking, with Jason running beside me the whole time. Starting to run after each bout of walking was hell on earth- almost impossible to make my legs start going again, but I kept reminding myself that the faster we went, the faster it would be over. Everything became a blur and all I could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other. Jason made a few jokes and pointed out some funny signs but I couldn't process them (sorry honey!). I just wanted to make it to the end. 

Somehow, somehow, we made it to the 800-meters-to-go sign. The end was so incredibly near. As you come up to the finish, there is a small hill (one of the only small rises in the entire course). You turn a corner and you can finally see the finish line ahead. I couldn't believe it. After so many painful miles, there is was. Cue the ugly crying. Jason grabbed my hand and we ran towards the finish. 

We crossed and I'd like to say the pain stopped, but in reality at that point, your body finally just lets you feel all of it. Toes and ankles. Knees and quads. Abs and shoulders. All the way down to the tips of your fingers. Absolutely everything hurts. But then there is this glorious moment when a complete stranger slips that marathon medal over your head and all you feel is amazing. I looked over at Jason and smiled. He looked nearly as miserable and happy as I did. We had done it. 

After we picked up our bags and drained a few bottles of water (and cans of beer for Jason), we decided to walk the mile back to our AirBnB. I realize how incredibly stupid this sounds, but the nearest train station was more than a quarter of a mile out of the way and the train would drop us 6 or 8 blocks from where we needed to go. Looking back, an Uber would have been a much smarter move, but I can't exactly attest to how clearly we were thinking at the moment. The (long, agony-filled) walk at least gave us the opportunity to pick up as much food and Starbucks as we could carry. Let me just say that as disgusting and sweaty and gross as we were, there were definitely a lot of fries that disappeared before showers happened!

So I ran a marathon without training. Turns out they give you a medal whether you train or not, as long as you make it across that finish line. On the one hand, it feels like a huge accomplishment. On the other, it feels like a bit of a let down since I wasn't able to do my best (or even close). And the recovery has been an absolute b*tch. It has taken numerous days longer than New York to be able to walk even close to normally. But here's the dumb thing about marathon runners. If I think about the Chicago Marathon, all I think was how fun it was. Even as I sit here trying to come up with new and different ways to say how much it hurt, I remember it being a blast. Everything from picking up our bibs at the Expo, to exploring the city, to getting covered in Gatorade when some guy tossed his cup towards the trash and hit me instead. It's just. So. Much. Fun. 

That's why I know we need to do another, crazy as it sounds. I need to figure out what's going on with my knee (MRI scheduled for next week!). But once that's figured out, (omg, be prepared for how cheesy this is going to be...) we'll be off and running!

Berlin 2019 anyone????