13.1...

In March, I had the bright idea to sign up for the Chicago Rock-N-Roll half marathon taking place downtown on August 1st. Twice I’ve signed up to run a half and twice I’ve messed up my shins so badly that I didn’t run either one. I decided to try it again, wanting to better plot my training routine and make it happen this time around.
What really happened was I barely ran. At all. All spring and summer. I ran more through the snowy winter months than I did during the beautiful days of warm temperatures and sunshine.
A couple of weeks before, I was giving into the fact that I am simply not a competitive runner anymore. I stand for a living and my legs and feet aren’t happy with high mileage runs. I had pretty much decided that this would yet again, not happen. Until…
Mom sent me an email asking if I was running. I quickly replied with no, because I needed more time off from work to pick up my race gear downtown and wasn’t sure if that could happen, plus I hadn’t been training. When I clicked “send” I immediately regretted it. I can do this. I can run this. Even if I’m the last damn person to cross the finish line, I’m going to regret not trying. My fingers flew across the keyboard, looking up my work schedule. I am not booked during the last half of my day on the Saturday before the race. I ask Cyndi if I could take the rest off to which she agreed. I quickly emailed mom again telling her I was going to run it and if she and dad wanted to come up, awesome and if not that was ok too because it was going to be a packed weekend with me working plus going downtown, then running on Sunday.
That was the last I heard about it and the night before the race found me home finally from McCormick Place with my race number among other things cooking dinner, and watching one of my favorite movies “(500) Days of Summer”. I was feeling awfully emotional about this whole race thing. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I wanted to figure “everything” out. I wanted my mind to go where it wanted, to get answers to my many questions. It was a lot to put on an already seemingly intense experience. I was happy to be alone, happy to be accomplishing this goal on my own. It made me think of Rob though and how he wouldn’t be there in the way I would like. I remembered thinking after he died that I better live. I better do all the things I want to do, God forbid my life get cut short. I better write my book, learn the things I want to learn, run the races I want to run, and go to the places I want to go. Looking back, I’m pleased that I learned how to make jewelry, that I made the effort to move to Chicago, that I completed Art+Science’s program, that I haven’t stopped writing and now this race will be something else to check off my list.
The next morning I was awake at 5:30am. I bought new shorts and tank top specifically for today and felt pretty despite the fact that I was going to be a sweaty mess in an hour.
After eating breakfast and making coffee the way Jeff showed me how to make it, I pinned my number to my torso and happily bounced out the door hoping to catch a cab to the start line.
Except there were no cabs at the taxi stand. Uh oh. I stand and wait. Nothing. Dammit. I exhale. Train it is, except I’m not entirely sure where I’m going. Maybe I’ll get off at Jackson. Hmmm…
On the platform, thank God, it was me and about twenty other runners waiting. I followed them on to the train and at each stop more and more runners piled on. The train smelled like sunscreen and hair products. I’m so excited I can hardly stand still. I’m really about to do this!
Everyone exits at Jackson and I follow suit. The air outside is perfect despite it being slightly humid. It’s almost seventy degrees and the sun is beginning to rise over the lake. The street we’re on is flanked by two other streets full of runners all heading to the start line. Despite hating crowds I feel nothing but sheer joy and happiness.
Nearly thirty minutes after the official start of the race, the “corral” I’m in is set to begin. I listed my finish time as a rather slow 2:30. I’m hoping to finish in 2 hours though. We take off. I turn my iPOD on as my feet begin striking the pavement. It takes a little bit before I can hit a comfortable stride. I watch the bobbing heads in front of me, weaving in and out through people. I stare at the sparkly sunshine bouncing off the windows that line the buildings that make up the fabulous skyline of this wonderful city I live in.
My iPOD is set to “shuffle” and is playing all sorts of upbeat, motivating stuff. I continue to follow the runners ahead of me, happy to be alone and not rush but to go at my own pace. In high school I had a tendency to start out every race too fast and be out of energy by the end. I’m trying to keep a steady solid pace this time around.
We turn on to State street approaching the Chicago theater. There is a sea of people ahead of me taking up the entire width of the street. Crossing Randolph, I think of Jeff and my Intelligentsia visits. They’re open right now and I wonder if they’re slow because of the race traffic blocking off all the streets around it.
We all head down Michigan Ave and get on to Lakeshore Drive heading south. I notice a “10K” sign and realize we’re about half way there. Oh. Wow. Already?! I’m still feeling good, legs still moving, feet are ok. Yup. Still going.
By mile eight I could physically feel my body slowing down. I let it but refused to walk, afraid that if I did, if I let up for just one second, I’d never start running again. I imagine briefly, Rob running alongside me. I used to ask him to run with me on the weekends to which he always declined. After he died I could practically feel him when I went for my runs through Freedom Park. It was almost like I could reach out and touch him. Later, after moving to Chicago and flying back to visit Atlanta that feeling simply moved to having knowledge that he was there but above me instead of beside me. I feel both today.
I start noticing I’m surrounded by “new” people. The 2:30 “pacers” aren’t to be found. These are the folks you want to stay by to keep you on track to finish at a particular time. Sure enough after scanning the crowd I find the 2:15 pacers. Excellent.
I thought my mind would wander, that I would daydream like I usually do when I run. I can’t seem to because for the first time during a run in I don’t know how long, I am present. I am focused on the movement of my legs, my feet pounding the pavement, my breath that is moving steadily in and out of my lungs. I find there is nothing else to think about but right now.
Mile eleven. Lots of cheering from the sidelines is keeping me going. Cheerleaders from middle and high schools are yelling and waving to us. I like them the best. The signs people are holding up are great too.
At mile twelve my eyes flood from be emotionally overwhelmed in the best way. “No, no, no!” I say to myself, remembering that crying makes my legs go numb. I’m doing this! Really doing it! It’s actually going to happen! I decide that I’m going to finish under 2:15. There are 1,600 yards left. I pick up my pace and pass the 2:15 pacers.
With nearly 800 yards left to go Rob’s favorite song “Addicted” starts playing. Again I have to blink back the tears. The crowd is heavier and louder on the sidewalks as we all begin approaching the finish line. I go and go and go, legs stretching out further and further creating longer strides. I take my iPOD out of my ears to hear the cheering surrounding us. I remember to keep a smile on my face as per my friend Christine as pictures are taken as we cross the finish line.
My right foot strikes the finish at 2:03 minutes. There are no words to describe the flood of emotion that washes over me. There are also no words to describe the jelly-like feeling taking over my legs and ass right now but it’s something close to heavenly.
I wander over to a small station with bottled water and try not to use both my nose and mouth to inhale it. I’m spacey, happy, and really loopy. More pictures are taken before I make a trek back over to the Clark/Lake blue line home.
It takes almost an hour to get home between all that walking and the train. I left my phone at home and when I got there Jeff had texted me wishing me good luck and my friend Kate also texted me saying “Run Melissa Run!” It lit me up inside to read their words.
After washing the sweat and film of dirt that covered my body I headed up to Earwax on Milwaukee for some much needed food. I got to sit at a perfect table, facing the window while inhaling a huge brunch, barely tasting any of it from being completely ravenous.
I’m experiencing the best runner’s high in the history of the world! I gotta do this whole half marathon again…