Most Read Post Winner: Blisters Under Toenails

Last September, I wrote a rather graphic depiction of blisters forming under my toenails post 2011 Chicago Marathon.

You can read it here.

It's by far the grossest post I've ever written (out of 200).

Yet, in the last 9 months, over 500 people have navigated their way to read it.

So, thanks... I think?

Are gruesome posts the way to go? I hope not.

Though it seems there's many out there goggling their way to find relief.

May blisters be the worst of our troubles as summer begins.

Marathon 2011 Memory

I remember the exact moment this photo was taken. After completing the race, I hobbled through the chute and grabbed a bag of nutrition, water, the finishers medal, gatorade, and most importantly, that post race beer. It's true, it's the best tasting beer you'll ever have.

I cautiously walked over to gear check to grab my bag. A short walk later I came upon an open bench where I traded my shoes for flip flops. When I stood up my body felt tight and sore. I took a moment to look out at my surroundings.

And there it was, Buckingham Fountain. A spot I run by quite often but rarely find the time to admire.

Cheers to 2011 and doing it all again in 2012.

Marathon Recovery

Last year I wrote about recovering physically from a marathon. What I didn't touch on is mental recovery.

At some point during a marathon, well, at least most the runners I know, you find yourself questioning your sanity. I signed up for this? I thought this would be fun? I trained five months for this? This hurts!

If the mental game hadn't started during the taper, it surely appears around mile 22. That voice gets louder and clearer, until you stop running. But that's the lure of the marathon. You've trained your body to physically complete the task at hand. The mental side is the tougher part.

After crossing the finish line, I think most of us experience a moment of euphoria. We've accomplished a great task that not many have. As the euphoria fades, your conscience returns. He's saying something like 'Never. Again.'

A few hours after the first marathon, I announced I wanted to do another.

This year, it's taking a bit longer to come to that conclusion. In the two weeks following the race, a head cold was getting the best of me. The runs up until Hot Chocolate on November 3rd were pathetic attempts. I wondered if I should hang up running for awhile. Even at the start line of Hot Chocolate, I wasn't completely sold on doing the race. I had signed up just days before. I knew I needed to run another race to get me out of my slump. The post-marathon slump.

Since Hot Chocolate, I've had some good runs which is motivating me to run through winter. Even still, 38 days after the race, I have not decided if another marathon is in the cards. My brother commented that he wants to run Chicago next year. If he signs up February 1st, I know I'll be right behind him.

But for the time being, the brother scenario is the one exception. I'm just not ready to talk about it. Yet.

My friend Carrie announced her retirement shortly after completing the Berlin Marathon this year. Though I have since heard that she would consider coming out of retirement for the right race.

And the cycle continues.

Chicago Marathon 2011

Brian and I cross the start line with positive thoughts. I've been saying 'We're going to kill it' for the last few days, so how could we not?

The Chicago Marathon is such a spectacle. It's easy to forget you're running - At least in the beginning. As a runner, you find yourself looking to the sides of the road or overhead to take in the sights and spectators. In those first few miles as you travel through the packed downtown streets, you marvel in what a cool experience a marathon is. Why wouldn't everyone want to do this?

Unfortunately, the miles of feeling amazing are short lived in the long 26.2 journey. Brian and I ran a solid 10 for the first 7 or 8 miles. As we headed up north on Sheridan to Addison, I started feeling ill. I tried to assess if it was the head cold or something else. I needed to give myself some time to work through it and see if I felt better. We saw Kim and then my Mom, Tricia and Dave around the ballpark.

As I passed my Mom, I wondered if I should tell her I wasn't feeling well. If I was to slow down or go to the medical tent, how would she know?

The ill-feeling became worse. I started to wonder if I would know when I needed to stop. As long as I could keep running, did I feel well enough? Or does your body not tell you when you need to stop? Is that how people pass out while running a marathon?

Then I thought through the process of quitting. If I kept feeling worse, I'd have to stop. So, how does that work? Do I walk to the side, ask the spectators to make way, remove my bib and start walking on the sidewalk? Where would I walk to? I have no phone, no money, no keys, no form of identification; nothing. All I have is five packets of Gu Roctane, my fuel belt, and the clothes on my back. All my stuff is at gear check which far away from Lakeview. Should I walk up to a spectator and ask to use their phone to call my Mom? How embarrassing would that be?

So instead, Brian and I kept going. I didn't tell Brian about any of this until much later in the race when we both felt like complete hell.

Around mile 10, we saw my friend Carrie. I was excited to see her. She told me I looked great. I realized the sick feeling had passed.

We headed back downtown in a blur, then out west. Way west. Have you ever been in bad traffic heading west on  Fullerton or Belmont where it takes you forever to get to Ashland? Imagine running to Damen. At that point in the marathon, it seems like the mental end of the world.  You can look a block south to see you're just going to have to turn around and run all the way back.

On our way back east, the sun was relentless. It was getting warm. We were heading in to Little Italy now at mile 17. We had stopped briefly to stretch as things were starting to ache.

Here's where I start thinking about my reeler. That's Kim. Instead of thinking about how far I have to go to finish (which you can't process doing anyway), I think of how far until I get to Archer just west of Chinatown. That's where Kim waits for me to arrive, then 'reels' me in, like a fish on line to the finish line.

But before we reach Kim, we have to tackle Pilsen. Pilsen is quite arguably the party area of the Marathon. By far the best music on the course and there's usually some spectators handing out beer. I kept an eye out for my Dad, but never did see him. I had found his camouflaged hunting hat twice last year in Pilsen. Brian did find his friends, which I was happy to see. By the time we reached Pilsen, we had seen my Mom, Tricia and Dave four or five times. They are amazing.

Rounding the corner at 18th and Halsted, we see the temperature reading on a bank sign of 89. Better than 90 something, but far warmer than we'd been hoping for.

As Brian and I headed south on Halsted approaching the south branch of the river, we saw a familiar face. Kim had arrived at her usual spot early and decided to walk further up the course and help us over the Halsted bridge. We were so happy to see her. We forgot about our aches and pains as Kim gave us the race highlights she'd watched on T.V.

Chinatown was a madhouse, but Tricia managed to find us in the crowd. She'd made the best signs!

Now we headed south on Wentworth. For me, this is where I'm transported in to a time warp, or as most people call it, the Wall. There's less than 5 miles to go, yet it mind as well be 10. Your body asks why you're doing this. Regardless, you just have to keep moving forward, however fast that may be.

At 33rd we cross the Dan Ryan. Logistically, this is good. We are heading east and we're very close to turning north. Once we turn north on to Michigan, my very fuzzy brain starts doing math. 35th street minus 12th street equals 23 blocks. I can do 23 blocks. This process continues on until the Roosevelt street sign is in view.

At mile 24, we see Ken, Sara and Kim S. They jump up and down when they see me, which makes me smile. Smiling doesn't hurt, but just about everything else does.

Kim helps me push forward up until 13th and Michigan when we run in to John. John's working for the marathon today instead of running. His job is to weed out anyone who's on the course and doesn't have a bib. He looks at Kim, and Kim points that she'll exit the course on the left. Now I have to prepare to climb the Roosevelt bridge alone.

I can only imagine what I must look like 'running' up this hill. I am sure it's a train wreck. But I'm running, or, I think I am. So many people are walking up the hill. We have a quarter of a mile to go.  I see Jen near the top of the hill. She's also working for the marathon today and cheers wildly when she sees me. As I push up the hill, I see a runner with a prosthetic leg. He wears a shirt that has the Wounded Warrior Project logo on it. I'm inspired by this man.

We turn the corner to see the finish line right ahead of us. I run in at 4:54:09 and hold up four fingers.

Marathon Weekend

The Marathon may just be on Sunday, but it really encompasses an entire weekend.

Have you ever been to the Chicago Marathon Expo?

You don't have to be a runner to think it's awesome. And believe me, it's awesome.

Most people I know go on Friday. I guess it's because they're locals and they can. Or because it's less crowded. Or more likely it's because the anticipation is killing them.

Imagine the movie 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' when Charlie walks in to Willy Wonka's factory. I think that's the look on just about any marathoner's face entering the expo. It's sensory overload, in a good way.

I could easily spend half a day visiting the lay of the land. The new gadgets, destination races, celebrity appearances, nutrition samples... But coach Kim reminds me that I need to get off my feet, so we enter the expo on a mission.

Two and a half hours later, we exit with my bib and race packet, a few gus, and two shirts. A new expo speed record.

Friday night's also traditionally a large pasta dinner night. This year I had mine at home since most of my dinner friends were still traveling Europe after their Berlin Marathon. I went to the ethnic market a few days before and got everything we needed to make dinner.

Saturday I sleep in. Like, past 7:30. I haven't done this in about 6 months. Weird.

In the early afternoon, Dave and I head down to my charity's luncheon at the Hyatt McCormick Place. The luncheon was much smaller than last year. Salute said they had a smaller team this year, but were able to raise more money. Great news for a great cause. One guy raised over $9,000! Amazing.

Late afternoon we head back home and talk to my Mom about her arrival. My mom is my biggest supporter. She's come to just about any race she could in these last few years. She could write a book as to how to follow a runner through the Chicago Marathon. As part of the marathon ritual, she comes to the City the night before the race and spends the night.

As Saturday progresses, I notice I'm getting a sore throat. Family, friends and co-workers all around me have been sick, but I'd hoped I could fend it off...at least until after the race. I take tablet after tablet of Airborne and hope for the best. There wasn't much else I could do.

I laid down around 9:30. I knew there was no chance I'd fall asleep at that time. The night before the marathon is the only night of the year I don't sleep like a rock. I tossed and turned for awhile, but eventually fell asleep, crossing my fingers the sore throat was nothing to worry about.

Mission: Go to Ethnic Market. Buy Gatorade.

It's four days before the Marathon.

My achilles is on the mend, but my mind's driving me crazy.

Hello taper madness.

I get home from work and I decide a nice walk to the ethnic market in my neighborhood will do me some good. It's about a mile from my place and has fresh, reasonably priced produce. Actually the market has a lot more than that, but most of the dry goods are in languages I can't read (though I know enough Spanish to know it's not in Spanish), so don't tend to go down the aisles.

I have a long list of veggies we need for a recipe. The recipe calls for veggies, chicken and lots of pasta. Perfect for a Friday dinner before the marathon.

I walk around the market with my basket and get red peppers, broccoli, cucumbers, carrots and romaine lettuce. I'm even able to find the market's homemade salsa which is marked in English for the dumb patrons like me.

I start to walk over to the check out line when I remember one last thing on my grocery list: Gatorade. I wanted to make sure I made a better effort to drink more Gatorade in the few days leading up to the race.

Does the ethnic market carry Gatorade? I saw Coke and Pepsi on the way in, so there's hope. I walk down the narrow aisles, the ones I usually avoid, until I come upon a rather large selection of Gatorade. I wasn't anticipating having so many choices, so it takes me awhile to decide what flavors of Gatorade I want. Meanwhile, people who can read the language on the packages other than Gatorade stroll past me with their carts.

Eventually I pony up to the register with 4 - 32 oz bottles of Gatorade and a bunch of produce. What a strange combination the check out girl must have thought.

I pay her all in singles, which likely got her off the thought of produce and Gatorade.

Massage & Physical Therapy

Crossing the finish line of the twenty miler was good and bad.

I was pleased with being able to stick with the 10:30 pace throughout the run.

My achilles, on the other hand, was hurting.

Sh-t! How do I manage to do this to myself each year?

I headed over to the NovaCare tent where a PT took a good look it. There was a long line of people, all with similar aches from training.  She said she was happy to hear I'd been experiencing it for only a week and thought some deep tissue massages and PT would put me in good shape for race day. I appreciated her positive attitude as I was trying to stay positive myself.

Flashbacks of last year's doctor's visit just a few weeks before race day appeared in my mind as I called the doctor on Monday. If I went to the doctor's office, I was certain to hear, one way or the other, that I should give up running. Or I may have to visit an orthopedic, have an MRI, maybe an X-Ray, all before going to PT. So I took a different approach when calling the doctors office. Instead of calling and saying I had a running-related injury and wanted to see the doctor, I just asked if I could go straight to PT. The nurse wasn't sure if this was possible, but said she would check.

Ok, that went better than I thought. Now on to the next thing that will help straighten out the achilles - massage.

Who doesn't love a massage? I found a massage therapist (a former distance runner no less) who lives two blocks away and tends to run long on his sessions. Really? Yeah, really awesome.

We worked out a game plan for working on the achilles over the next week. After I left the massage therapist's house on Monday night, I already felt better.

Wednesday came and I still hadn't heard back from the doctor's office. I call the doctor's office in the morning and the answering service tells me they are not in the office yet. I call later on and I told they are at lunch...twice. Then I call again in the evening to find out they close early that day. I then call their suburban location and get a hold of another nurse who was able to tell me the doctor approved my request for PT and she'll send it over.

Thursday morning I have the script from the doctor and call PT. Their schedule is booked for the rest of the week, so I'll have to come in Tuesday. Now I start to worry. I'm basically losing a week here. I won't be doing a 12 mile long run in this condition. Then I remind myself what Kim A. has told me all too many times - as long as you have a 20 miler under your belt, the runs during the taper don't matter.

Thursday night I go back to the massage therapist where he's able to loosen up my calf muscle and I continue to stretch it out. I do a two mile light run that evening and it tender, but not painful.

Saturday I go out on a run on my own. I'm fearful I can't or shouldn't push a 12 mile run on a bumb wheel, so I go out on my own to see what I can do. I end up run/walking about six miles. I am frustrated, but I try not to let those thoughts linger. It's still bothering me, but it's bothering me less. That's good.

Tuesday I get in to the PT and she works her magic. Thursday I return. More magic.

The following Saturday I go out to run a great 8 miler, my last long run before the marathon.

I continue to stretch and go to PT, but I feel much better.

I'm good to go.

Return of the Morning Runner

Shortly after October 10th, 2010, Laura, the morning runner, retired.

Right around that time, Laura, the afternoon or evening runner, returned.

I find the morning version, although someone resistant to getting up at 6, or maybe 5am, tends to be more productive with a run out of the way in the morning.

But, as we all know, if you go out too hard too early, you might be in trouble.

As was the case last Friday (before the 4th of July weekend).

Skilling's prediction was humid and growing warmer throughout the day.

So much for knocking out 11 on my way home from work, thought the afternoon runner.

Then the afternoon runner had an epiphany: What if I turned (back) in to a morning runner?

We're not talking about the morning runner who wakes up a half hour earlier than normal to run three miles.

We're talking two hours earlier. 4:45am

The sun wasn't yet up when I headed out. I ran for about a mile before I passed another runner on the sidewalk.
Once on the lakefront path, I noticed something quite unusual. No bikes.

By the time I made it down to Diversey, bikes were whizzing by and the path had a fair number of morning runners.

Morning runners, even in a city as big as Chicago, will smile or wave at you. Afternoon and evening runners do not. Why is that? Does it have to do with sleep deprivation or is there a common belief that anyone out at that time in the morning must be doing it for the same reason you are?

By the time I reached my house, I had just enough time to get ready, eat a quick 2nd breakfast, and head to work on the bus.

As I stood waiting for the bus, I realized how tired my legs were. Thoughts of taking a nap on the bus, as per usual, crossed my mind.

Then the bus came. No seats were left.

I thought of how it would be better to walk then to have to stand still. So when the bus reached it's first stop (about a mile and a half from work), I got off.

I walked to work, beginning to think of all the things I needed to do. Once I did sit down, however, I found it very hard to do much of anything.

I was beat.

It was 8:30am.

Intermediate Training Schedule

Many would think a novice training program would be used by a person preparing for their first marathon.

Or 2nd.

Or 3rd.

But not 4th.

So this time around, I'm training with an intermediate schedule.

What's the difference?

You run more. More miles during the week, more days a week and longer long runs.

Instead of doing 3-3 mile runs during the week, I'm scheduled to knock out 16 before an 11-mile long run this Saturday.

Why?

Because you can, and, for some reason, want to. You've at some point decided that the novice program isn't beating you up enough or that it's leaving you with too much free time. Hours spent sleeping or relaxing should be, of course, replaced with more running.  More running which will likely require more stretching with our favorite friend the foam roller, sleeping, and the best benefit of training, eating.

Now that I made the intermediate program sound so appealing, I am wondering why I waited so long to do it.

This year, many of my friends are running the Berlin Marathon which is two weeks before Chicago. They are all experienced marathoners who are masters of the novice program. The intermediate program will allow them to get a 20 mile run in two weeks earlier than the novice program and from there, they will taper for Berlin. Me on the other hand, I'll run 20 twice. That's my punishment for not traveling Berlin and repeating Chicago a 4th time.

This time I'll get it right (I hope). Whatever that means...

12 Mile Run and the Nashville Taper

Last Saturday, Katie and I had plans to start our 12 mile run (the longest run in preparation for our Half Marathons) at Foster and the Lakefont. When I arrived at 7:45, the street was closed.

As soon as I saw the squad I remembered - CARA (Chicago Area Runners Association) Lakefront 10. Kim S. had asked the week before if I wanted to do it. Had I not needed to run 12 that day, I would have.

I called Katie and we relocated a few miles north to my neighborhood. I guess that's the nice thing about running. It's easy to find alternative places to run if your place of preference is taken.

By the time we worked our way down to Foster, the street was back open. We got to see a good number of the Lakefront 10ers working their way north to the finish. It's not often I get to see the fast people that win races. Scanning for familiar faces certainly helped pass the time. We saw Kim around Belmont on our way south and then saw Sara on our way north around the same spot.

We also saw a group of familiar faces out running that morning - Ken, Carl, and Laura. Ken and Carl were pace group leaders for CARA last year. Laura and I met in 2008 through CARA while training for the marathon. Seeing so many running friends, well for sake of a better word, running, made me start thinking about summer and training. It was the first time I'd been excited about starting in on the summer commitment of marathon training.

The Chicago Marathon's registration opens February 1st. Race day is October 11th, just over 8 months later. This year, the marathon sold out (45,000 registrants) in a record 31 days. As you can imagine, a lot can happen in 8 months. When I signed up, my thinking was that I wanted to have the option to be able to do it again. I couldn't think far enough in the future of actually doing it again.

The Country Music Half Marathon is April 30th. After our 12 mile run, Katie and I began tapering for our races (Katie's is on May 1st in New Jersey). I started it off right by having a huge celebratory burger where I out-ate Dave. But in all seriousness, hope the starts align for me on race day. My training hasn't been perfect this time around.

Once this race is over, and certainly once the weather turns, I'll start setting my sights on the next big thing: Rangar Relay. You thought I was going to say marathon, didn't you?

4th time's a

...I'm not sure.

If the 3rd time's a charm, what is the 4th time?

A 3rd time redo?

Because you can't find a reason NOT to do it a 4th time?

Or, because after three times it's a routine?

Either way, last week I signed up for what will be my 4th Chicago Marathon.

Training's become, after a few years, part of my summer routine.

Marathon training will start in early June.

June seems pretty far away right now.

I have quite a bit of running to do between now and then.

Better get to it.