90 Days to the Finish Line---Part 2

Well, as I write this, it’s actually 48 days to the start of the Chicago Marathon. Continuing our story:

Running a marathon is one thing. Training for it is another. Whenever I’d contemplated running a marathon, I’d always focused on the end result; running the marathon itself. What I hadn’t pondered, what no one had told me, was that race day is the EASY part. It’s the training for that day, the race itself, that takes such a high level of motivation and dedication and leads you to question your own sanity.

Training for the Chicago Marathon in 2004 was an entirely different production than what we’d done for the half marathon. Eighteen weeks is a lonnnnng time when you’re focused on the end result; completing the marathon. It’s very hard to realize that the journey is much harder than the destination itself, if that makes any sense.

All in all, however, and despite those difficulties, the training went reasonably well. We were diligent in our runs, ate well, and persevered through some tough Midwest-humidity-laden slogs that sapped our strength but good.

There were highlights. Running an 8:20 mile at the end of a 16-mile run was one of mine. Watching my wife turn into a serious runner was another.

There were lowlights. Feet blistered. We each lost several toenails during the training process. We realized that you need to go bigger in your shoe size, when you’re doing that much running, unless you enjoy losing toenails from the constant pounding.

After completing a 20-mile run a few weeks before the race, we began to taper, where you ease up on the mileage to give your body a chance to recover before the race. The last weekend before the race, with a 10-mile run, seemed and felt easy. On to the race.

Race weekend arrived. Things were looking good. Then, dinner happened. We made a chicken/pasta dish on the Friday night before the race in an effort to bulk up on the protein and carbs. Big mistake.

Woke up about 11 p.m. that night with major GI issues, both north and south of the equator, so to speak. Dealt with that all night and actually lost two pounds overnight. Headed into our Chicago hotel that Saturday and things were no better.

I was still sick, my wife was getting sick, and a sense of impending doom was setting in. We headed to McCormick Place on Saturday afternoon, to the Health & Fitness Expo, to pick up our packets. Sensing a problem on the horizon, my wife was smart enough to take a plastic bag with her. Good thing, it was, as she refunded what little lunch she’d had about halfway back to the hotel on the El. I had my own problems and was eyeballing every public restroom I could to avoid more embarrassing moments.

The race itself was an exercise in perseverance. We toed the starting line feeling a bit better than we had over the previous day but with a great sense of trepidation over what was to come. Started out fine, though a bit overwhelmed at the 30,000+ runners inching their way north.

We hit the halfway point (13.1 miles) at a slow pace but feeling OK. It went downhill from there as my wife had a reversal in a garbage can at Mile 17. Our lack of eating the previous 24 hours caught up to us. And, our attempt to over-hydrate during the race backfired on us.

The last nine miles were a blur as every mile became longer than the last. Finally, the finish line was in sight, we pushed up the last hill on Columbus (a cruel placement as it hits you right when you’re the most exhausted at the end of a very flat race) and savored the finish line with the clock reading 5:00:43.

While we weren’t happy with a five-hour time, we were pleased with the accomplishment. Having been that sick, we probably shouldn’t have expected to finish the race, let alone start it. And, almost immediately, we knew we’d be back to do it again someday and seek our “revenge” on the race.

Now that you’ve read the tale of the 2004 Chicago Marathon, I’ll try to post some brief updates as we count down to the 2007 version and, more importantly, as we approach the Monster Month. . .