State of the Union

As I sit here very late at night with news reports breaking in that our government may be shutting down tomorrow, I figured I would make a state of the union analysis of my marathon training. 

Week 12 of marathon training.  I'm not dead yet.  But, I may be close.  I'm certainly on life support. 

I was moving along ok.  Nothing spectacular.  No speed records. No feeling like I'm a badass runner.  Just getting in the miles.  Check. Check. Check.  Went on some group training runs to keep me accountable.  Met up with running friends to get my inspiration and my runs in. Did some cartwheels. 

Fast forward to today. The last two weeks have been rough.  I have only run TWICE in the last 18 days.  Yikes. 

Cliff notes version: On my 15 mile long run 18 days ago I started suffering severe foot pain.  Could barely walk or stand for the next few days.  Gradually got a little better, but still quite painful.  Plantar fasciitis.  Oh Goody.  

So, next came my half marathon.  I should have never started this at all because the pain was so bad.  But, I'm a bit stubborn, so started with the intent of going 1-2.5 miles.  I made it 6 miles before I gave myself the hook at the mile 6 medical tent.  What followed was a few days of more horrible pain.  Lots of foot rolling.  Weird duct tape measures because I was too impatient to wait for the "miracle" sock I ordered to arrive. 

Oddly enough.... my MacGyver'd leg did help.   My foot quickly felt better.  Great?  No.  But, no longer excruciating.  6 days after I DNF'd. my half marathon I planned to try to get in a long marathon group training run.  I had low expectations.  But, at the same time I planned to try for the 12-13 that was on the agenda that day (cut back week, thank God!).  Low expectations but yet pushing myself to the max.  Yeah, not the smartest tool in the shed.   Made it through about 9 feeling pain, but managing.  My hobble was pretty bad.  But, I was moving.  After that point, I hit a major wall.  Mentally and physically.  2 weeks of no running other than my DNF caught up to me.  I was beat.  My foot hurt.  A lot.  I was in the woods, alone, thinking I was lost.  I doubted I could get those last three miles.  I wanted it to be over.  I wanted everything to be over.

 I reflected a lot about how I used to run fast and fierce, for me anyway.  When I would get out on a trail and just run.  Then run faster.  Push myself further.  9:15 - 9:30 pace on 5.5 mile runs.  Consistently.  I miss those runs.  I miss that person.  I miss that runner.  I mourn that runner.  Sometimes I really hate the runner I am now.  That sounds so awful.  But, it's true. 

I yelled at myself quite a bit.  Seriously.  I was PISSED.  That I once again had gotten this far and my body was once again failing me. That I wanted to give up on myself even though I've wanted this all so badly.  That so many others CAN do this.  CAN get through the marathon training.  CAN get up in the morning and run when I just can't and get it done.  I'm in sincere awe of all my friends who train for and run marathons.  You people are truly amazing.  I mean that.   What you endure mentally and physically to get this done is downright badass.  Truth. 

It's just not in me.  I mean it's in me.  But,  way deep down inside me.  And, it's screaming. 

I'm just not sure if it's screaming for somebody to give me chest compressions.....or, pull the plug.

Review Mirror

So, here we are.  One year ago on this date I broke.  

One week out from my 10 minute PR at the Chicago Rock n Roll Half Marathon  and seven weeks from the Chicago Marathon.  I broke. 

I was whining and bitching (shocker) about going out on my 18 mile training run.  It would have been a PR distance for me.  I missed my 17 mile run for the half. The half hurt.  A lot.  But, I had a friend pushing me through it.  Otherwise, I think I probably would have quit on myself somewhere in there.  Not stopped.  But, walked some of the race.  But, I didn't.

So, there I sat ready to run my 18 miler.  Okay, ready would be the wrong word choice.  Terrified would be more appropriate.  Two of my favorite runner doodes were texting me and telling me to stfu and just go.  They are pretty bad ass ultra runners.  Me, not so much. Finally I went.  I really had high hopes and was determined to do this. 

But, eight miles in I stopped.  I quit.  Mentally I was done.  Physically I was most definitely done. My leg was hurting.  Not just  "this is a long ass run and my leg is tired" hurting.  Like on fire hurting. 

I sat on a bench along the river.  And cried.  I knew I was done.  Even if my leg was just a minor setback, I knew mentally I was quitting.  I texted the guys.  Both would usually tell me to suck it up and run.  They both told me to stop trying and go home.  They knew.  Better than I did.  They knew. 

What I didn't know then, or for a few months for that matter, was that I had a tibia stress fracture.  One year ago today.   I haven't been the same since.  What followed was a pretty crappilicious year, both running wise and personally.  

It took the next three months to get a proper diagnosis from a doctor. Bone scan, MRI, and more x-rays than I can count.   

I ran a 5k race after my ortho doctor told me that 10 weeks surely should be enough rest from running.  It hurt.  I did it.  But, I MADE myself do it.  It really, really hurt. 

After all the tests I finally got a hands in the air, "I think it's a stress fracture" diagnosis.  Boot for a few months to follow.  I waddled for the next few months, which then threw my UBHA (sciatic crap aka UnderBitchHammieAss) into overload.  When I finally got out of the boot my ass hurt a ton. If you've never had this sciatic pain you have NO IDEA.  It sucks.

But, I soldiered on.  Took baby steps back to running.  3 minute runs. 5 minutes.  7 minutes.  10 minutes.  1 mile.  Until I ran my Fuck the Boot 5K on a very cold Chicago morning.  I was back.  

I was wrong.

2 weeks later on a short run, steps into it I heard a POP.  I thought I broke my leg.  It was a calf strain.  TEN times more painful than my stress fracture.  Not to mention the awful sound it makes.  Ewww.  Down again.  

Then it was up, down, up, down for the rest of the year.  Ass pain.  Foot problems.  Falling off a bike. Mental funks.  Just when things looked good, they got bad again.  I'm in pain all the time.  Something hurts.  All the time.  From my neck all the way to my foot.  Pain.  Now I have some weird ailment I'm dealing with. I don't think it will affect my running.  But, I think somehow it was brought on by my lack of running.  I also think it's more mentally based.  It's just manifesting itself through a physical problem.  Oh goodie. 

I hate that this year was like this.  It was so frustrating.  Overwhelming at times.  I want to so badly be out there running.  It's what saved me.  It's now what kills me. People keep telling me to bike.  To swim.  Yes, I hear you.  But, I can bike 60 miles and it does nothing for me.  I get the miles in, sure.  But, I don't feel the mental and physical workout. Swimming?  I love swimming.  Of course.  It makes me happy.  But, running makes me healthy.  Both mentally and physically. 

While I struggled, others people rocked on.  It was fun to see people be awesome.  It was hard too.  But, come on....

First half marathon

First marathon 

first Ironman  (yes, I cried like a baby watching the live feed of friends crossing the finish)

200 mile rides

first 100 mile ultra

and many personal achievements and overcoming adversity that made me grin ear to ear.....

and on, and on....

Amazing to watch so many of my friends rock it.  So proud of them.

I did have some nice moments in my crappilicious year.  There were the races I Do Epic Shit cheered for because I couldn't run them anymore.  Chicago Half, where I taunted Claire with her DES shirt the entire race.  I rewarded her PR with the actual shirt.  Off my sweaty back. 

Chicago Marathon, where I had THE best time cheering in all my friends.  Seeing most of them three times along the course.    Shamrock Shuffle, where injured reserve Claire and I finally joined forces and Do Epic Shit cheered together.  So fun! Rock n Roll Chicago Half Marathon.  The first time I didn't run this race.  

I quit my job of 19 years.  I love my new job.  There is no way I could continue on with my old job.  AND, not run.  I wouldn't make it through each day.  I was barely hanging on there in the end.  My new job makes me smile.  And, giggle.  A lot.  I feel valued.  Appreciated.  Not something I felt much of at my old job.  Or life for that matter. My boss is very understanding about my desire to run.  She doesn't run. But, she appreciates my desire to. And, she says fuck a lot.  Which makes me smile. 

I did my first triathlon.  Albeit as a relay.  But, a way to see what it's like.  I had the most awesome and inspiring teammates. It was an amazing experience.  So very cool.  I had a decent swim, coming third out of the water for the relay teams.  Not bad for an old chick. 

I worked on rocking my headstand.  Went for a five minute PR.  Knocked it out.  Now working on ten minutes.  At 8:26 I'm almost there.  I WILL do ten minutes. 

I got my swim on.  Not nearly enough as I really want to.  I want to do better.  But, I'm happy I'm back in after all these years away.  And, I'm proud that there is one thing that I don't suck at.   I want to be better at this.  But, I'll just keep swimming and see where it takes me.  Yesterday it took me for a 6000 yard swim .  Yeah, baby. 

But, I still don't run.  I know that when, IF I do start again, it won't be easy.  It won't be free.  It won't be without worry.  That I'll break again.  Something old or something new.  Break.  Long gone are the 9ish minute mile runs of running out my problems in my head.  Now my problems will be in my body for long 11:00 or 12:00 minute miles.  

One long year.  One very long broken year.  It's gotten really old.  I'm really so over it. 

I have to stop looking back and start looking forward.  I need to have some hope.  Even when I think there is little.  

I Won't Turn Back

When there is no turning back, then we should concern ourselves 

only with the best way of going forward. 

Paolo Coelho

Going forward.  

That's the direction I'm heading towards now. 

August 21st 2011.  The day I quit  half way through my attempt at an 18 mile marathon training run.  Even though two friends kicked my ass to get out there and get it done.  My mind was spent. My heart was weak.  My body, unbeknownst to me at the time, was broken.  The next day I felt pain.  Emotional pain.  Physical pain. 

I never ran again (except for two or three illegal runs) for almost 6 months.  Not really ran.  For six months. 

Not with my heart. My mind.  What was left of my body.  I may have moved my legs.  But, I had pain.  Lots of it. As great as some of those runs felt to just be running.  In reality, I was faking it.  Because I wanted it to be ok.  My leg to be ok.  Me to be ok. 

It wasn't.  I wasn't.

Being hurt sucks.  Getting hurt sucks.  Hurt of any kind just plain sucks

Sucks because you can't control it.  Sucks because you cannot fix it.  Sucks because.... It. Just. Sucks. 

I can still distinctly recall last spring when one of my Daily Mile friends got injured.  I read his posts about him not being able to run.  His frustration.  While I felt bad for him, I couldn't really relate.  I had never been injured.  In all my years of swimming I was never injured.  Not once.  No shoulder pains.  No knee pains.  Nothing. Since I started running everything HAD been ok.  I had some minor pain in my sciatic area.  But, nothing to be really bothersome.  I was running the best I ever had.  I was in the best shape I had been in in years. Every race was a PR.   I really couldn't relate to his frustration.  I felt bad for him. But, in reality I could not really relate. He eventually just stopped posting.  

However, I remember when he started to make his comeback a few months later.  How wonderful it was to read he was on the road back.  Ironically, just as I was falling off the road....

I have so many running friends who are fighting off injury right now.  We are at all levels of recovery.  We all know.  We all get it.  Sadly.  We all just want to be well.  To be us again.  To run. 

The other night a friend was talking to me about my injury.  Telling me that during this time there was surely something I learned about me.  Something about ME that I was able to discover during this time.  I'm still not sure what it was.  Kind of sad that I can't figure out what I learned.  But, I did realize I started blogging during this time.  Weird.  I didn't even realize that this all began because I wasn't running.  

I would talk to my friend Mike about running.  About our injuries.  One night he told me I should write a blog.  Looking back perhaps it was his polite way of getting me to talk it out in a blog instead of bugging him.  Ha.  He had a blog.  A very good blog.  His wife, Julie, was just about to start her blog. But, what was I going to write about?  I had nothing to say.  Nothing anybody would want to read.  

But, I started writing.  I still have no idea what about.  Or why.  Or to whom. But, I wrote. 

So, maybe that's what I learned while injured.  To start letting thoughts in my head get out a bit.  To let some of what brews in my head while I run to be released.  Perhaps not for others to read necessarily.  However, if someone else gets it, fantastic. But, maybe more for me.  Just me. 

To my friends still injured: it gets better.  You WILL get through this.  I promise you.  Promise. 

I'm taking the baby steps back.  I'm running again.    I have a long way to go.  A very long way. But, I'm not going back.  I cannot change what happened to me.  With my injury.  With my life. I cannot change that I got hurt.  I cannot change how bad it made me feel.   How miserable some days really were. It wasn't my fault. 

I can only go forward. One step at a time. One word at a time. Ahead.

I won't turn back.  I can't.  And, I wont.

Run on.  Write on.  Be.  

Oh, and that friend who was injured last spring?  He went on to finish his first 100 mile ultra in the fall.  How 'bout them apples? 

Fat in a Box

I ran on Saturday.  After ten weeks of no running, I ran.  I raced the Chicago Hot Chocolate 5k.  I wasn't really sure I was actually going to run at all. The shin had been quiet for a few days, but it acted up  there the days before the race.  I was worried about running. But, the doctor did  tell me to do a light run before today's appointment.  So, I did.  I ran a 5K.  My legs ran.  My mind ran.  My heart ran.

I cannot even begin to tell you how awesome it felt.  Even though I was in a lot of pain, I was so happy.  To be on the run again.  Running from what?  Running to what?  I still don't know. But, running.

Today I went in for my ortho appointment.  I had more xrays done on my shin.  This time also on my spine and hip (aka, AK area for those in the know) to see about dics problems in my back that possibly could be causing my UBHA pain. Thankfully, the spine and hip looked good. 

The results are that I will continue to stay on Injured Reserve for awhile longer.  Apparently, the good old ortho doctor is not so sure it's a stress fracture after all.  He thinks it's taking WAY too long to heal. I agree.  So, his thoughts are now that it perhaps may be some type of tumor causing pain on my shin. Oh, yes, goodie.  He said tumor.  Before anybody freaks out, I am not freaked out.  Well, not yet anyway.  More tests to follow at 5 am Friday and then we go from there.  I'm pretty confident it's still a stubborn stress fracture.

I'm more freaked out that I still cannot run.  Ten weeks of no running is hard.  Hard on the soul that's for sure.  I need the run.  For me.  For my sanity.  For my body.

Running was always mental therapy for me.  Absolutely.  But, along the way of that journey my body kind of followed suit.  As I ran not only did I feel better mentally, but physically as well.  My body started to change.  Honestly, I didn't even notice it.  Not until people started making comments to me. Strangers even.  Telling me that I looked great.  It was weird.  Very odd in fact.  I wasn't used to this.  Remember? I used to be invisible.

It was hard for me to come to terms with the change in my body.  Honestly, I never really thought about how I looked.  I mean I thought about how I looked. But, I didn't see myself as a fat person.  I'm tall.  I'm used to people telling me I'm big.  But, I guess I didn't realize they were also referring to my size in general.  Honestly, I think I hid it pretty well.  Well, at least I thought I did.

Until I lost weight.  From running.  Sixty five pounds of running my ass (literally) off.  The weight was on for a reason.  To protect me.  It kept me safe.  (a whole other blog that may never be written) I was scared to lose that security. I didn't know that then.  I know it now. 

But, oddly, I felt good.  Felt good about myelf.  For the first time in a VERY long time.  The New Andrea.  It was nice.  People who know me would say I was always confident person.  But, it was a lie.  I was not.  But, I began to feel it more now.  Own it more.

People made comments.  I still get them.  The ones I get often are from people who haven't seen me in awhile, a year or so.  It's usually a stare, then, "Oh my God, you lost a ton of weight."  Of course all I hear is, "Holy shit you were a big fat pig"   Its embarrasses me.  Of the person I used to be. 

 But, then I see my friend Claire.  Who who owns her weight loss journey  like nobody's business.  When we ran into each other at the 2011 Chicago Rock n Roll Half Marathon medal engraving  our lives collided.  We had met earlier this summer at Chicago DoLife 5k .  When we met this second time we couldn't talk enough about running, social media, our running friends and how our lives had changed drastically through it all. She lost weight but still saw the fat girl of old.  I stood there before a beautiful woman full of confidence but not yet owning her beauty. I couldn't tell her enough to jump out of that box and own it.  All of it. Be proud of it.  Be the New Claire.

After our conversation, Claire become an unofficial #DoEpicShit  girl.  She earned it.  For sure.  I'm amazed each and every time I see her rock yet another race PR.  I had the pleasure of cheering her on for the  Chicago Half Marathon She looks phenominal and is now training for her first marathon.  One hundred and twenty five pounds and one year ago a different woman.  Now, a women possessed.  A beautiful strong women.

So when people tell me I look great I think of Claire. I still just stare at them.  I'm horrible with compliments  I don't get them often.  When I do, I don't know what to say.  I have to learn to accept them. I'm just so used to deflecting them.  Because I am not worthy.  Don't feel worthy of them.

I'm getting better though.  When they ask me how I did it, I tell them I run.  I didn't try to lose weight.  I ran for my sanity.  The weight was a by-product of that.  I get excited and try to get the person to run too.  I encourage them to sign up for a 5k.  I want them on my party train.  Choo-Choo!

Problem is this train is stuck in the station.  Not only am I mentally shot not being able to run,   I'm freaked out that I will go back to the old me.  The sad me.  The fat me.  The unworthy me.

I started 2011 with resolutions.  They were interesting ones to say the least.  But, the goal was to get me out of my box.  To stop living the life of the old me. Needless to say I skydived out of my box right out of the gate.  It felt good.  It was fun.  I was happy.

But, now here I sit.  Not running.  Still. 

I'm scared I'm going to crawl back in that box if I can't run.

 It's dark in there.

 It's lonely in there.

 I do not want to go there again.

Wait 'til next year......

I have SO much to say about the #CM11 Chicago Marathon.  I don't know where to even begin.  I suggest you grab a cold one.  Or some coffee.  A blanket.  Some energy gel.  Perhaps a banana. You might even want compression socks. This is clearly the longest race report for someone who didn't even run the damn race. 

This was to be my race.  MY marathon.  The one I do.  The one that makes me a marathoner. We all know my tired story by now.  I tried.  My brain quit.  I got injured.   I did not run.

This was my girls weekend.  College friends getting together at least once a year.  Used to be football games.  Then weddings.  Then just random places to go have fun.  In the last year or two these have turned into race weekends.  Funny how that happened since almost all of us never really ran.  Some of us met up for Chicago Shamrock Shuffle this spring.  We enjoyed a nice (but hot) race and had a fun time afterwards.  At this point some of us had already signed up to run the Chicago Marathon. Three of us and another's husband were planning on running.  As it turned out, three of the four of us had to drop out.  Injuries, conflicts, and just general lack of feeling ready were some of our reasons. So, sadly, this left one lone runner, Celeste, to our marathon.  Thankfully, this was her 10th marathon, so old hat for her.

Friday night we drank wine, caught up, drank some more wine, made race signs, and drank some more wine. 'Twas fun.  However, too much as one person was unable to get out of bed the next morning  So, we found it necessary to make yet another sign. 

On Saturday we headed to the Expo.  I was really worried that being here would make me cry.  I figured as soon as I got my bib I would lose it.  Oddly enough, I did not.  Instead I was kind of excited.  There were THOUSANDS of runners here.  You could feel the excitement.  It made me feel good.  If I were running I would feel scared.  This I know for sure.  I just missed seeing Ray here.  He tweeted that he was leaving Expo just as we were getting on the shuttle to leave as well.  I missed him. One of many missed meetings with him all weekend. 

Runners entering corral

Up early Sunday.  Walked with Celeste over to the race start to make sure she got to where she needed to ok.  It was kind of a mess as runners were very unclear where they could get in to their corral.  Lots of runners hustling to the start after attempting to enter in areas nowhere near where they needed to be.  I had planned on going all the way to the start area.  No, I was not running.  However, I did still have my bib.  So, I could get in the runner area.  However, it was so crazy there I decided to say goodbye to her before she entered the "if you aint running get out" area.  We would see her again in 26.2.  

runners head to the start by the Modern Wing of the Art Institute

45,000 runners start

Met up with the rest of the girls on the spectator side of the start.  Watching this start was beautiful.  A sea of runners, flowing like calm ocean waves......gently bobbing up and down as it  streamed by us.  The race started.  It. was. on. For as far as you could see in either direction all you could see were runners. Beautiful, strong, amazing...... runners.  It was spectacular. 

We had plans.  Plans to be uber spectators.  A little marathon got in the way.  We were able to jump right into a cab and get to the second stop for our day.  We had planned on just past mile 8.  However, my friend Lee, who was saving us a spot there, was stuck in a crowd.  It was crowded.  The runners were already running by in a steady stream.  We didn't want to fight our way to the spot.  We found a wide open spot about 1/2 mile away on Addison. I was worried all the people I gave my planned location to would not find me. I panicked a little. But, I hunkered down.  Pulled out my Do Epic Shit sign. This is when the fun really began.  The second that sign hit the air it started.  The smiles.  The laughs. The hooting.  The hollering. The "right-on" finger pointing to me.  The high fives.  The shouts of "Do Epic Shit!!!! WHOOOOOO!" All of this..... from the runners.   It. was. amazing.   Several yelled Una Runnnnnnner! or "Do you know Logan?"  It was great! 

I cannot tell you how awesome it is to have racers look at YOU and smile.  Most runners usually don't smile when racing.  They are focused.  Or tired.  Or struggling. But, when they passed me, the lips slowly turned upwards.  They got a glint in their eyes.  It was amazing.  To have that affect.  Some were extremely boisterous when passing me.  Yelling back at me.  Others, quietly smiled a modest smile.  I could only sense what their brain was really thinking.  Made me giggle.  

I was tracking quite a few runners.  Sadly, Ryan was just TOO fast and I never was able to get to my location before he passed.   Runner tracking always informed me he was already past my next location before I even left the current one.  I cheered him on from afar.  Thankfully, runner tracking let me know when people were past 10k.  I knew to judge their arrival time at my location.  It was great.  In the meantime I made many new friends with strangers passing me by.  I'm a little loud when I cheer.  I tend to make noise.  I scream.  I whistle.  I Whooooooo!!!! Loudly.  The runners heard me.  For sure. :D  I started to lose my voice.  And, I was only one hour into the race. 

So, one by one people I knew came by.  Thankfully, they all saw ME and came by ME and shouted!  Tom, Brian (Brian DM), Celeste, Casey,  Becky .  ALL of them stopping and shouting out to me!  I shouted back... even louder GOOOOOOO!   I was waiting around for Ray (Ray DM ) who obviously started further back in the corrals.  I waited as long as I could.  My friends waiting to get to the next spot to meet Celeste.  I finally had to leave my spot.  I'm positive Ray went by right after I left.  


When Lisa S.  came by she yelled hi and ran away.  Went a couple of feet. Came back.  Hugged me and said, "I need this.  This was SO what I needed.  Thanks. "  And, she was off.  I was tickled beyond belief that I saw her.  Lisa and I signed up together.  We sat on our computers until 1:30 am on that February night trying to get in.  We started training together.  We went on some hilariously funny runs together.  We were on different paths.  But, the same journey.  We both started to fail mentally at the same time.  Before we could pick each other up, I got injured.  I was out. Lisa was on her own.  Well, not on her own really.  I was with her.  Just not running next to her anymore.  She felt awful that I was not running.  We cried a lot over it.  She empathized with my sadness.  It helped.  But, I was not going to let her quit.  I was there for her on her long runs when she wanted to give up.  And, here she was.... running past me.  Running the Chicago Marathon.  I was SO happy. 

Next our plan was to head to Mile 15 to give Celeste the Gu we promised.  We had to PROMISE we would be there.  We did.  We weren't.  Our cab driver was clueless that the marathon was taking place.  Uhhhh, wtf!  We were trying to tell him the best ways to avoid closed roads and time after time he kept turning right into the race.  It was SO frustrating.  I was freaking out in the back seat.  I don't like to let friends down.  We were letting  Celeste down.  We decided mile 15 was out.  We started to try for 16.  Then that became out of the question.  17?  Nope, not that either.  We took a chance on 18.  We got there.  Flew out of the cab.  Ran to the side of the race in a nice spot.  Started cheering immediately.  We were back in business.  I started seeing some familiar faces from the first stop.  They started seeing me again.  I got lots of "it's YOU again!"  "I'm still doing epic shit"  "I'm not feeling very epic anymore". Several pointed out to their running partners, "There she is again"  Within a very short 4-5 minutes I spotted her.  Coming around the corner.  Celeste.  Oh. My. God.  We made it.  Late.  But, we made it.  I hollered out to the other girls.  Gu out.  We were ready.  Whooooooo Celeste!!!!!!! Apologies all around.  She didn't seem to care.  She got her Gu.  She got our faces.  She was off again. Kicking ass.   The girls and I looked at each other.  Eyes wide.  Phew, that was VERY close.  Our next plan was catching her at the finish.

One of my favorite parts of the race was at mile 18.  This little boy, about 3 just stood on the side of the road, more inside the race than by the spectators.  He just stood there.  With his arm outstretched.  Awaiting some high-fives.  I loved watching the runners turn the corner, see this little doode, smile, high five and run on.  It was so cute! 

Runners looked a lot different at mile 18 than at 7.5 (duh).  They were obviously hot.  They all were parched.  People were definitely starting to struggle. People were starting to cramp.  It was a bit hard to watch.  I was hot.  I was only standing there screaming, holding a sign.  I was behind them all the way.  I wanted them all to do well.  By the way, holding the sign did turn out to be more difficult than I imagined.  My arms started to hurt.  My shoulders were really sore.  My hands actually fell asleep and I was finding it very hard to hold the sign.  But, one look at these runners.... really, Andrea?  Suck it up cupcake. Hold the friggin' sign.  Scream your ass off.  In fact I was screaming so loud that one doode came around the corner ran right up to me and said, "Just so you know, I could hear you all around the corner.  Thanks!".  <smile>

Lisa N.  had a few people she was following.  So, we stuck around to see if we could catch them.  She saw some at 7.5.  But, based on tracking we might be able to catch another here.  We cheered.  More familiar faces.  More smiles.  This time I got some thank you's.  More high fives. Lots more high fives.  A couple of ass pats (thank you!) from doodes saying, "I saw you the first time, this is great", "I needed this", etc.  I even got some hugs.  Most half hugs.  But, I got a huge full on one.  Tom came by again. I cheered.  He went on a few feet.  Came back.  Gave me a huge ass schweddy hug.  It was awesome. Thanks pumpkin!  Brian was next.  He was looking a bit warm as well.  But, soldiering on.  Imagine my surprise when a smiling Ashleigh came flying by.  She had a, uh-hum, timing chip problem so her tracks never came through for me to find her.  I was SOOO happy to see her.  She looked great!.   I didn't see any other Daily Milers here.  But, Lisa did see one of her runners.  So, off we went to try to get Celeste for her finish.

We started walking a straight line toward the lake front and the finish line.  We were looking for a cab, but finally realized this was not going to happen.  So, we walked the few miles.  Because of this, sadly,  we did not see Celeste cross. I think we were standing on a bridge over the expressway when the text came in.  Whoo-Hoo Celeste finished.  And, finished strong I might add.  Not a PR.  But, placed her  5711/35660 overall.    1158/15419 for women  166/2161  in her age group.  Not too shabby.  SO proud of her.  Later that day she told us she was retiring from marathons.  She was done with them.  Huh. 

When we neared the finish I saw the final push towards the end.  Chicago races have a cruel way of adding in this bridge to many of their races finishes.  It is a killer.  I cannot even imagine it after 25. 5 miles. Julie and Lisa headed to meet up with Celeste. I stayed back to try to catch Lisa S. finish.  In addition, I love watching the finish.  Love watching people make that final push to the end.  Seeing their faces.  Knowing that they DID this.  It gets me every time.  I saw dads pick up their kids and run with them in their arms.  I saw teens jump the fence and sprint in with their moms.  I saw race officials practically drag a few people over the line.  But, finish they did.  I saw many couples grab hands, run together, finish a dream.  Many were taking pictures.  Of US. The crowd.  It was great. 

Lisa in blue, black shorts

I kept looking down the street.  Hoping to see Lisa.  She wasn't there yet.  Then, there came Lisa.  I saw her all the way down the street.  She was running right along the fence where I stood.  I screamed her name.  She looked.  She blew me a kiss. I started to cry.  I screamed some more.  I watched her cross the line.  I couldn't have been prouder of her.  She did it.  Hot damn.  She did it.  PR'd her last Chicago Marathon of a few years ago by one hour.  Yes, she had a faster goal in mind.  But, in these conditions, a PR is a fantastic achievement in my eyes.  Hell, finishing is an achievement!


I stuck around to watch other DM'ers make it in.  I saw Tom.  I saw Brian. Becky came flying right by me, smile on her face.  The girls were waiting for me.  I had to leave.  But, I was still waiting for Ray.  I had missed him ALL weekend.  I couldn't leave.  I started to leave about five times.  Each time convinced he was right around the corner, I stayed.  Finally after getting yet another text from the girls I had to leave.  I walked away. Reluctantly. I walked out of the bleacher area.  Walked about 2 minutes.  Ping!  In came a text.  Ray King had finished.  And, I missed it.  Oh, Ray, I tried SO very hard.  I'm sorry.  I know Chinatown was not kind to you.  I'm SO proud you soldiered on.  You, my friend, are a marathoner.  Be proud. 


I am SO thankful I saw all the people I did.  I am so very proud of you all.  Of what you accomplished.  I know some of you are not happy with your time.  But, under those heat conditions you should be thrilled.  It was NOT easy. 


I had SO much fun holding that sign. Claire,  (Claire DM) also had her Do Epic Shit tee on.  She reported feeling the same mad love making people smile.  So many people came up to me and took my picture.  One racer took it and posted it to Facebook while standing in front of me!  ha! Lisa and Julie teased me that I should have written my phone number on the sign because they have never seen that many hot guys.... talking to me no less!  Duly noted for next time! Runnrgrrl saw me twice and screamed DO EPIC SHIT!!!!!!!  both times she passed me. Many runners told me at 18 that I had the best sign on the course.  Wheeeeee!!!!  I can't even describe the joy I felt making the runners feel good.  It was such a good feeling. I wish you all could feel what I felt.  It was a complete honor to cheer them on.   So many runners have told me since that I was the highlight of their race.  Man, how cool is that?  But, seriously, runners,  YOU, were the ones who made my day.  Thank you. 


I thought I would be sad this weekend.  I was not.  I was SO happy.  However, when I awoke on Monday I felt a bit different.  I was sore.  My shoulders were sore.  My shin hurt.  A lot.  We did a lot of walking over the weekend.  It hurt then.  It hurt more on Monday.  It made me worry.  That I may never run again.  Celeste was in better shape than me for crying out loud!  But, also, the fact that I didn't run finally hit me.  I got a message from Lisa S early in the morning.  She told me that I was the first face she saw in the race and the last face she saw before finishing.  It made me cry. It made me happy. But, it made me cry.  For the first time it hit me that I didn't experience the race.  As a runner.  I didn't see this coming, but it came.  A few hours later our friend living in France called to find out about the race.  She talked to me about me not running.  She was giving me a little pep talk about how proud she was of me.  How I had transformed myself into a new person. How I would run that marathon one day.   I cried again.  Not sure why.  I think partially because I knew she was right.  And, partially because I knew this journey of mine, halted for a minor mental meltdown and a major injury shutdown, was not yet over.  


The girls started to get ready to leave each other.  As she turned to get into the car to leave, the now marathon retired Celeste turned to me and said, "If you run Chicago next year I'll run again."  :D


So, there it is.  2012 Chicago Marathon.  I will be waiting for you.  Will you be waiting for me? 

DNS

In January I was on a little 5 mile blizzard run with Ben , Brooke, & Casey.  (By the way, one of the coolest runs ever).  The snow was coming down.  A blizzard indeed.  We ran 5 glorious miles along the Chicago Lakefront.  It. was. epic. Ben was telling me a bit about his running journey. Overweight to IronMan.  I was inspired.  He told me I could run a marathon.  That I would run a marathon.  I left that day feeling that I just might be able to.

It is finally   2011 Bank of America Chicago Marathon weekend.   A weekend that I've been looking forward to and dreading since 1:30 am on that late February night that I finally was able to get myself registered to run.   

I had SO much to say about this weekend.  How I trained so hard.  Was really pushing myself further than I had ever in my life.  How this was the hardest thing I ever did in my life.  That it hurt.  Mentally and physically. It effing hurt. 

It was a brutally hot summer for training.  Just awful.  I'm a cold weather runner.  Shorts and tee in the middle of winter.  Love it.  The heat brought me to my knees on several occasions.  Literally.  

I was going to say how I was feeling so good there half way through.  That I had my UBHA (Under Bitch Hammie Ass) injury.  How it flared up. But, how I was pushing through it anway.   I was running further than I ever had. I had some tough runs where I didn't think I would make it through.  But, thanks to some dear friends. who texted me messages to get my butt to the finish, I  did it.  I did those long runs.  I even went on one stealth long run without telling anybody.  I could fail myself.  But, I didn't want to fail others.  If they didn't know I attempted, they wouldn't know I failed.  I succeeded anyway. I did it.  On my own.  It felt good.  I felt strong.  I felt like I could possibly actually do this marathon.

And, then, I attempted my 18 mile run.  I didn't want to go.  I waited too late in the day.  But, I had friends telling me to get out there.  To shut up and run. So, I did.  I only made it three miles before I started to overheat.  I felt weak.  I felt nauseous.  Just then a funny text came in that made me giggle.  I talked it out with my friend.  He told me to go home.  Stopping is not failing.  Death is failing.  But, after several minutes of chatting I felt better.  I started up again.  I started to feel good.  For a bit.  I ran another 5 miles.  And, then, I just stopped.  My legs stopped.  By brain stopped.  I stopped.  I stood there looking at the river.  I started to cry.  I knew I was done.  I think in a way I knew I was more than just done with this run.  I knew I was done with the marathon. 

I texted my friend.  He told me to go home.  This time I listened.  Instead of walking the 1.5 miles home from where I was I forced myself to walk the long way back.  5 miles. A long 5 miles.  It was my walk of shame.  Without the heels.  

The next day my shin hurt.  A lot.  I was done.  That was 7 weeks ago.  

My dream was done.  I had resolutions this year.  Running the Chicago Marathon was resolution #1.  And, I'm not doing so good on the others.  ;)  Epic fail .  

I made one stupid 4 mile run 2 weeks ago. Because I missed the run.  My mind missed the run.  My spirit missed the run.  It was SOOO painful.  That first mile was brutal.  I cried.  (God, I cry a lot.  wtf). But, I wouldn't stop.  By the end of mile 1 my mind was feeling so good I started to forget the pain.  I was only planning on a very slow 2 mile run.  But, I just couldn't stop.  I ran 4 miles.  I could have kept going. But, I was pretty sure I was screwing up my leg.  So, reluctantly I stopped. 

I went to see a doctor.  He couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.  Wednesday I went for a bone scan.  Watching the dye go through my body it was clear when it hit my shin that something was wrong.  My shin lit up like a Christmas tree.   Doctor's appointment this afternoon.  I guess I'll find out what's wrong.  I hope I do. ***Update: Stress fracture.  Three more weeks of no running. ****

To say I'm devastated is an understatement.  But, at the same time I'm slightly relieved.  I'm not sure I was ready.  This was not the year for me.  Apparently some higher being agreed. 

So, I will cheer on all my friends who are running.  I will scream loud.  I will dance.  My milkshake will bring boys to the yard. Ok, well, maybe not that.  But, I will be a crazy ass bitch.   I will wear my DoEpicShit shirt. For my friends running by I will have band-aids.  I will have Gatorade. I will have Bodyglide.  I will have Motrine.  I will have Honey Stingers.  I might have beer.  I will have hugs. Lots of hugs. 

Yes, I was going to tell you all that.  How I am NOT running the 2011 Chicago Marathon. Nope.  I am not. 

But, perhaps, just perhaps, I will give it another try.