520+ – Miles Ran
16+ – Weeks of Training
10+ – lbs lost
8 – Toenails Lost
2 – Pairs of Shoes
1 – Bra Size
1 – Officially diagnosed reoccurring injury (
All this to run 26.2.
Leaving my hotel race morning, I stepped out onto an all but deserted street and began my lone pilgrimage to Grant Park, my heart all aflutter. Turning onto Michigan Ave I beheld the most amazing view of the city all aglow in the early morning, the street lined with runners, looks of determination, anticipation and a healthy dose of fear across their faces.
Start Corral – Upon arriving, I quickly found the open start corral and fell into the mid-nine-minute mile section. It was a balmy 33 degrees and this Florida girl was not prepared for the temps. I shivered and tried in vain to stay warm by chatting up the other runners. As the gun went off the crowd surged forward and “throw away” clothes exploded into the air and rained down around us. It was GO time.
Start – Mile 5 – As I crossed the start line I couldn't help but get caught up in the moment; I screamed, I jumped up and down and I waved my hands up in the air like I just didn't care. 26.2 lay before me and I was awestruck by the sights and the sounds of the city before me, the spectators all around. It was sensory overload and I relished in every moment of it! As we entered a tunnel, the sound of runners screaming and feet pounding the pavement was deafening. You could power the world over for days with the energy bouncing off those walls. By chance alone I managed to see my cousin Michelle and Beth around the two mile mark and it fired me up 10 times more than I already was; I was really doing this, I was running the Chicago Marathon. In that moment I realized
This article appears in Oct 29 – Nov 4, 2009.