A Flat Ham Horn: Amazing End to an Epic Journey

It's the next day, and I still can't believe it's over. We worked so long for this: 4 days a week (barring sickness or injury) every week since December. The early Saturday morning long runs with Team became something we looked forward to, and we were disappointed if we had to miss (only once for each of us). We met so many amazing, inspiring people: from the coaches, to our wonderful mentor Jenn, to the staff members, to all the other runners we became good friends with over the last 4.5 months. I think we'll be going through withdrawal now, but I'm sure we'll be back doing another event with Team in Training soon.

But I digress. I'm supposed to be writing my account of the Illinois Half-Marathon yesterday. To sum up, it went almost exactly how I imagined it would, only better in many ways, and worse in one.

To begin with, we were exquisitely prepared for this race, not only through the training by Steve and Monica, but also by the excellent work of Kelly Darnell, the Team in Training coordinator for the race. In addition to responding promptly and patiently to my panicked emails when I wasn't sure our race registration had gone through, she made sure we had reservations in the right hotel, so we could meet the Team in the lobby at 6:15am and walk to the race together. Just having that confidence that someone was making sure you got to the starting line with everything you needed took a huge load off our minds.

The morning of the race was exactly what we had been preparing for since we'd been monitoring the weather forecasts for the last two weeks. 35 degrees and sunny, getting warmer throughout the day. As cold as it sounds, it was actually perfect. Sure, we were a little chilly before the gun went off, but hell, we'd trained in sub-zero temps. I wore my new Illinois Marathon long-sleeve tech shirt under my purple Team singlet, shorts, and sunglasses. Halfway through the race I was pushing my sleeves up to my elbows, but I never got too warm. I also had my iPod and Nike+ chip, but I really only wanted it to monitor the time, and so I could figure out what my splits were. I only had one earbud in most of the time - the last thing I wanted to do was zone out and miss the experience of my first Half-Marathon.

So anyway - back to the starting line. After making sure Lynette and Jenn found each other, I made my way towards the 4 hr. marathon pace captain. Steve had highly recommended using them, since they're experienced marathon runners who are making sure to keep a consistent pace. My goal was 2hrs, based on the pace I had been able to maintain on training runs. To be honest, I knew my knee was going to hurt, and as a consequence I had been resting for most of the last two weeks when I should have been tapering. I was going to try and keep up with the pace team for as long as possible, but I was not optimistic about hitting 2hrs. Another coach I ran with last Saturday said I should have three goals: one for if everything goes perfectly, and then two slower for less than ideal conditions or circumstances. My ideal was under 2hrs, then 2:10 and 2:15 were times I would be happy with, since I knew I would be in pain.

So finally, the gun goes off (did it? I don't actually remember hearing it), and we started shuffling forward. I've been in a few much smaller races before, but the amount of people running in this was was staggering to me (over 8000). By the time I stepped on the start mat, people had spread out enough to where I could actually jog. Steve's words from two weeks ago were echoing in my head. "Don't be too aggressive at the start. You can waste a lot of energy trying to weave through people." He was talking to the whole team, but he was looking at me. So I listened. The pace captains were holding up signs, so they were easy to keep track of. As long as I could still see my pace sign, I didn't worry. I started to recognize other people in the same pace group, and let their presence silently keep me in check whenever I felt like charging forward. I don't think I ever got more than half a block behind the sign.

Immediately, my knee started hurting, as I knew it would. Since I had done two long runs of 10 and 6.5 miles with the pain, I knew I could power through it. Probably not the advice a doctor would give, but there was no way I was going to let this spoil my day. It hurt with every step, but most of the time I wasn't thinking about it. I just concentrated on keeping my pace. This turned out to be easier than I thought. Most of the time it felt like I was just out for a nice, easy run.

At every mile marker, I pressed the button on my iPod to A) make sure I was on a good pace, and B) have a record of my split times to look at later. The iPod lost about .05 miles for ever mile, but it was still a good way to reassure me that I was on track for the two hour goal, especially after I passed the pace captain at about mile 5 or so. At that point, everyone got funneled onto a narrow path through a park right after a water stop. I can't remember if I passed him because of the water stop or the funneling effect, but pass I did.

I should note here my hydration technique for this race. I learned early on that I did not do well trying to drink out of cups during a run, so I wore my fuel belt. I had 10oz. of water on my right hip, 10oz. of gatorade on my left, and two espresso Hammer Gels in the front pocket. I passed the first water stop (couldn't have been more than 2 miles in) without drinking anything. At the second, I decided to drink some of my Gatorade, but while I usually slow down and walk to drink during training, I didn't slow down at all. I want to say this was because my knee hurt more when I slowed down, but I think I would have done the same with a healthy knee. It just doesn't make sense to me to slow down or stop during a race.

Going through the park was nice, and there was a brass ensemble on the side of the path at one point. I cheered for them, just like I tried to acknowledge everyone who cheered for Team in Training, or was obviously making a special effort. I really, really enjoyed this race, and I think a big part of the reason was that there was hardly an inch of road that wasn't occupied by spectators. I high-fived every person who offered a hand, including Elvis.

I took my first gel at probably mile 6.5 or 7. I drained about half my water with it. If I remember correctly, this was just before a water stop where they were handing out gels, and I tossed my empty gel pack to the side with all the rest of them. Again, I didn't slow down at all.

At this point, things are kind of a blur. I was ahead of the pace captain, but there was a decent size group of runners that I was with most of the time. I like to run alone, so I wasn't about to strike up a conversation with anyone, but seeing familiar faces (or backs of heads) is always nice. I saw my family cheering me on for the second time around mile 8, and I think my Mom was running along side me for a while. It was really nice having them there.

Around mile 10 I started to wonder where the Half-Marathon would split off, since I remember the guy at the pace team table saying I could run with them for ten miles. I wasn't really worried, and I had to keep my mind from running away with itself, since that would really make the race drag out (I know because I took the wrong path in Chicago a few weeks back). Sure enough, around mile 11 there was an extremely well marked split, along with a volunteer with a bullhorn making sure you knew where to go. Even though I didn't feel like I needed it, I took my second gel at this point, and finished my water. I knew that I had less than a 5k left, and I was still feeling great. The pack had thinned out even more once we split off, and I feel like I was both passing people and being passed pretty consistently.

At some point (probably a water stop) I finished my gatorade, still not slowing down. When we hit mile 12, I think Memorial Stadium was already in sight. My knee was really starting to bother me at this point, and I'm sure my face showed it. I was probably being passed a lot more than I was passing people now, but the end was near, and I knew I would finish (and if my iPod wasn't lying, I knew I would be very close to my goal).

The final stretch of road went past the entrance to the stadium, then doubled back before entering. When I hit the hairpin turn to double back, my knee almost gave out, and I had to take a couple hops. The guy next to me patted me on the back and said "Almost done - you can make it!" Just thinking about this now makes me all emotional again. My body was completely drained, and I'm sure that had something to do with it, but for the last few miles and especially as I entered the stadium I was completely overcome with emotion. I was running this not just to prove I could do it, but in memory and in honor of all our family members who have been affected by blood cancers. The grandeur of running into a crowded stadium and down the middle of the field while being displayed on the jumbotron heightened everything to a ridiculous degree.

As I entered, I heard the announcer saying "One fifty-seven (something)!" and I knew I had a chance to beat two hours. I wasn't thinking about gun time vs. chip time, nor should anyone at a moment like that. The turf felt great under my feet, and as I turned at the end-zone for the dash to the 50 yard line, I put every last ounce of energy I had into it. My face was probably twisted into a horrible grimace, as I'm sure the picture will show (we'll post it as soon as we get it), but I crossed the finish line in 1:58:57 (gun time, 1:56:07 chip time). I accepted the medal offered by a race worker, and started staggering around, looking for my family. I didn't know if they'd be there or not, but I didn't want to miss them if they were. They weren't there, and if they were, I would have collapsed, sobbing, into someone's arms (as I later did once Lynette finished). I don't know why I tell people that part of the story. I think it's because I don't really do emotion, and this was a completely sincere and reasonable response to what I just experienced.

As you probably guessed, the one way this race went worse than I imagined was my knee. Afterwards, I was in intense pain, and could barely hobble over to meet Lynette after she crossed the finish line. I'm hoping a few days of icing followed by a couple weeks of rest will be enough so I can start training for our next race.

After we got out of the stadium, breakfast was handled wonderfully by the Team in Training staff, then we lounged at Annie's with Katie, Kyra, and Aunt Mary for a while before heading out for a steak dinner.

I give the inaugural Illinois Marathon an A- (the minus is for the poorly positioned and unmarked bag check before the start), and Team in Training a huge A+. I fully intend to do another event with them, whether it's another half, a full, or a triathlon.