Choosing a Side of the Fence [Part 2]

Two summers ago, I wrote a post about Choosing a Side of the Fence.

It stemmed from a discussion I'd had about my future in marathoning. Back in early 2012, I'd debated registering for Chicago again. I'd completed four marathons. Did I need to do another?

At the finish line later that year, I was sure happy I had. To date, the 2012 Chicago Marathon remains my standing PR. Mother Nature provided ideal race conditions that day allowing for Jeff and I to knock 12 and 20 minutes off our standing PR's.

This year I was in for a change.

Late spring I was hopeful that after a few weeks in the PT clinic, I would be able to jump back into training. But as weeks turned into months, I had to come to the realization that a marathon wasn't in the cards for 2014.

That's when frustration really started to set in. So much so, that a few weeks ago I had a complete melt down in the PT clinic.

So for the first time in many years, I found myself on the opposite side of the fence on Sunday. Instead of being a participant, I was a spectator.

I thought about that scenario in the weeks leading up to the race. How would I react to not running the race? Would I be sad? Relieved? Even more frustrated?

As race day approached, I found I was in better spirits than I expected. I was looking forward to watching Jeff and some other friends. I hoped that I could replicate my Mom's to-the-minute spectator guide and see my friends at various points through the city.

Friday night, instead of carb loading, I made Jeff a sign -

It was fitting since Jeff and Ann had turned me on to Untappd while we were in California. I enjoyed creating a handmade sign. It made me remember the last time I'd taken the time to draw a sign by hand - my brother's homecoming from Afghanistan.

It was after the sign was complete that I started to become excited about watching the race. I couldn't wait to put on an old pair of running shoes, grab my Ventra card and hit the streets with the Untappd sign.

When Sunday morning came, we did just that.

Seeing Jeff for the first time on Addison was a rush. It's funny to say that as a spectator. While Jeff ran the race course, we tried to hop trains down to see him through downtown. Jeff was moving at a good clip and we missed him around the 12 mile mark. We then headed down to the south side.

Somewhere in between the miles through Little Italy or Pilsen, a marathoner's best laid plans can unravel. We waited just past the 21 mile marker on Archer for awhile, carefully scanning the crowd for red shirts. Then we saw him.

I could tell by the look on his face that he was happy to see us but also that he was in the toughest part of the race. The wall. But he had a goal and was determined. There was no doubting that. As the body begins to give up in the marathon, it's your mind that keeps one foot in front of the other. But you don't have to tell that to someone who's running marathon 10. Instead, you jump in with a few jokes. A story from earlier in the day. Or just to be by their side for a few blocks. Saying nothing. Saying nothing and wondering if he was listening to "Call Me Maybe" yet.

After I ran over to the side to get out of the race path, I watched him chug along down Wentworth. He looked strong. He was going to do it. He was going to smash his PR. Now it was just a question of by how much.

As I headed on the red line back to the north side, I received a text alert. Jeff had finished. Not only had he finished, but he had absolutely crushed his previous PR.

I smiled as I read the alert again.

Being on this side of the fence is pretty awesome too.

An Early Morning Run [Inspired by Social Media]

Training changes a normal person into a strange, somewhat complusive, maniac.

Regardless of social engagements, vacations or weather conditions - long runs must happen.

Somehow, somewhere, your few mile jog after work went away, and you welcomed long runs into your life. Long runs are big time commitments. They are a multi-front (and not to mention a well coordinated) effort.

In the time some of your friends watch their favorite movie (or find themselves pulled into the magnetic force of a four-hour replay of Shawshank Redemption on TNT - admit it, it's happened to all of us), you're doing one thing - running.

But you're not dreading it. You're planning it. 'Cause this sh-t's gonna happen.

Camille is my cousin. She is training for her second Chicago Marathon. And nothing - I mean nothing - is standing in her way. She recently posted this on Facebook, to which a few of her runner friends and myself replied.

To us, this is completely normal (and I'll admit it - I miss it):

Repeat After Me: NO Running!

July 3rd was a great day.

I sort of ran. As in, I did more than walk.

That was a great 30 minutes.

After a long holiday weekend and a 11+ hour round trip car ride, I came home Monday sore and tight again. Going backwards in rehab isn't fun.

Wednesday I came home from work restless and decided to give the old track routine a try again. I was being optimistic I could build on my last session's success.

July 9 was pretty much a workout fail. Frustrated and slightly embarrassed, I finished the last 5/8 of the workout walking.

I headed to my PT the next morning. As I laid on the table with a heating pad on my hip, the therapist asked how I was feeling. I didn't have much good to report.

I told him about my workout fail, to which he replied "I think we need to cease all running for three weeks." He must have sensed my opposition, because as I started to explain further, he said "Repeat after me - NO running for three weeks."

"Ok, ok.." I said as I repeated what he said. Somehow, PT has made me feel like an elderly person and a grade school student all in one.

A few minutes later, I mentioned how I was scheduled to run the Napa to Sonoma Half Marathon in a week and a half. The PT just smirked at me. He knows I can't let it go.

But I'm going to have to sit the race out in wine country. It's going to be a hard one to miss. I had the opportunity to run it in 2012 with my friend Brian. It's one of the most memorable races of my life. At the same time, I have to listen to the professionals (no matter how hard it is).

For the last few years, the Chicago Marathon has sold out at a capacity of 45,000 runners. Following the race, statistics are shared in the media as to how many runners started the race and how many completed. I've always been surprised by the huge disparity in runners who started the race (usually around 34,000-ish) vs. the 45,000 registered runners. How are 10,000 people not showing up to the starting line each year?

Now I'm getting a glimpse of where some of them may have landed - limbo PT land.

Tuesday I'm off to see an orthopedic surgeon to get his assessment. He's a team doctor with the Bears, so hopefully he's familiar with whatever it is that's going on with my hip!

Irresistible New Shoes

Two weeks ago, June turned into July. How is it July already?

I entered into my third week of physical therapy.

I could have guessed I would be impatient when it I heard the advice "take it easy and let your body heal." "Take it easy" isn't welcomed advice when you're already a few weeks behind on your training schedule. My PT advised I could run or do yoga if I could "do so without pain," but after dealing with this injury for a month going full steam, I knew I would need to tread lightly on that advise. 

So for over two weeks, I didn't work out.

Within a few days, I felt like this -

Going from 6-7 workouts a week to zero is a shock to the system. I find I'm not sleeping as well and have a harder time focusing as I continue on a hybrid of the marathon to couch program. 

Right before I started PT, I'd stopped in Universal Sole to grab a new pair of shoes. They were out of my size that day, so I gave my information to be called when a shipment came in. A week later, my shoes had arrived, but I wasn't ready to pick them up. I knew once I had them I would want to run. So I waited. 

That Thursday, I felt relatively good following therapy sessions earlier in the week. It was a beautiful morning and I'd taken the day off work. I just couldn't resist the new shoes sitting on my bench. 

I laid out an easy workout. I would walk over to the track a few blocks from my house and try our really slow running. If it bothered my hip, I would stop and just walk for awhile. 

As I walked over to the track in my new shoes, I was excited to try out the experiment but at the same time tried to prepare myself for the worst. I could go there and not be able to run ONE lap. If that happens, I can't be mad about it. Being mad doesn't help the injury heal. And if that happens, I can't cry about it because other people will see you and that will just be embarrassing. 

So I found a good song on my iPod and I started at a slow running pace, just above a fast walk. It felt good to be moving. I ran for 12 minutes and then walked for 2. I focused in on my hip. Was it more sore now? Was I in pain? I seemed ok, so I ran for another 8 minutes, then another break. Second check in - still seeming ok. Then finished off with a five minute run. 

Under normal circumstances, this is barely a work out. But on that sunny Thursday, it was the closest thing I'd had to normalcy in awhile. And it felt good.

Taking a Break

We all have our routines.

Our get ready for work routine.

A wind down for bed routine.

And likely, a workout routine.

Over the years, my workout routine has changed. From early evening tennis practice in high school to late evening runs in college, then on to trips to Lifetime Fitness in Orland for lifting, yoga, spin and/or a date with the elliptical. 

When I moved to the city, I opted to live close to the lake. The lakefront path would become my gym that year. In the years that followed, thousands of miles have been run on that path in the early morning hours. 

Running along the lakefront has become synonymous with my city identity. Yet lately, I've been spending a lot less time on the path, and following mid-June's PT assessment, no time on it at all. 

At first, taking a break was something I had elected to do. I wanted to do challenge myself with a new workout routine (and to be honest, I wasn't the least bit interested in outdoor runs this past winter). But more recently, I had plans to get back into my good, old summer routine on the lakefront. I was finally getting the bug to run again. 

But with this hip flare up, I'm holding off on training, at least temporarily. 

Electively taking a break is different than an injury breaks. No one requests an injury break. But as June turns in to July I'm trying to stay optimistic about what the future holds and what the next steps are. In the meantime, it's awfully strange to be sleeping in past 5am on Saturday mornings.

Are You Done Yet?

For a few years, I would open my email the day after Columbus Day to see an email from my uncle. "Congratulations," it would say. He'd read in the paper that I'd completed the Chicago Marathon. In his short-but-sweet email he would conclude with "Are you done yet?" as to ask the million dollar question - Have I decided to stop running marathons. 

My reply was usually less brief, but went on to say thank you for the email and I wasn't ready to quit just yet. After all, there was certainly something to take home from that weekend's race. Something that could make me a better/stronger/quicker runner. I wouldn't want to miss out on a chance to have next year be "my" year, would I?

I'm sure my post race thought process isn't all that different from the masses who run marathons these days. To run just one marathon is a life accomplishment. But to run another, well, now you have everything you learned from that first race at your disposal for what will probably be an even better race. Right? 

A few years ago, I thought long and hard about marathon retirement. I'd run five races. What else did I have left to prove? The question that was posed to me then was, "Are you prepared to be on the sidelines?" Well, I hadn't thought of it that way. I'll admit, it seemed quite foreign. 

Last year, Jeff and I ran two marathons two weeks apart. I finished Chicago within a few minutes of my PR and the Marine Corps Marathon was an experience I know I'll never forget. At the end of October last year I found myself wondering what, if anything, marathoning still had for me. There was one thing I did know - I needed a break. A six or eight week break turned into most of winter. Before I knew it, it was March and I'd barely ran since November. 

Eventually I did hit the road again. I gradually increased my mileage in the spring to prepare me for early June - the beginning of marathon training. 

During this time, I started experience a tightness in my hamstring and IT band. It would come and go, so I kept along with my running and yoga regimine. Until a few weeks ago when I felt a noticable difference while doing handstand kick ups in yoga. This was no longer business as usual. I've done my best to carry on as normal, hoping the injury (gasp) would mend on it's own. But this week I know that it's time for the physical therapist. 

I'm willing to bet, based on previous PT experience, that I'll be banned from running and yoga for a few weeks. This is the news I didn't want to hear and why I have gone up until this point carrying on training with an injury. I can't stand sitting around.

So what does this mean for the yoga studio and the two marathons I've signed up for this year? There's really no way to tell now. For the time being, I'll have some time to catch up on Netflix. As June turns into July or August, I'll need to make a judgement call. 

I may find myself telling my uncle that I am in fact done with marathoning after all. 

A Good Run

Chicago's had a long, brutal winter. Some may argue we're still in winter as snowflakes flew in some suburbs earlier today.

Normally, spring is an open invitation to hit the pavement quite often - at lunch, before work or in the evening as the days get longer. But this year is different. Between the cooler than average temperatures and my new found joy of inversions and arm balances at The Lab, it's been easy to stay out of my running shoes.

I'd be lying to say it hasn't been a struggle some days to get out there. When you run less, your body is less conditioned for the activity, which in my case has lead to a load of crappy runs. Slow, labored runs. I find myself thinking:

Is this how it feels to start over? It must be. Feels like I never ran. Ever. And that person that ran two marathons last year...If you see her, can you remind her she needs to get my body back into shape? And by the way, where's this "muscle memory" I hear so much about? I used to enjoy doing this, right?

Yesterday I went on a late lunch hour run. I stood outside my office building waiting for my Garmin to locate satellites.  I'll admit, I can be an inpatient person, and the Garmin does test that. As it cycled through it's 4th attempt to find satellites, I'd come to realize how cool it was outside and regretted my outfit choice of a long sleeved shirt and shorts. Maybe I should just go back inside, I thought. This just wasn't meant to be.

But dammit, I was already outside. I'd worked past 95% of the obstacles that keep me from getting out on a run. Now I just had to move - literally.

I started pretty slow as in recent weeks I've found myself talking a few walk breaks mid run. As I warmed up, I felt pretty good. But I didn't want to get too excited too early. I did want to run for four miles. I headed south down to the Shedd Aquarium where I filled up my water bottle and adjusted my playlist.

On the way back, things started to connect. I felt good. Nothing was aching. I wasn't out of breath. I wasn't too hot. I had great music and plenty of water.

As I got back to work, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Ok, I can still run. Let's chalk today's effort up as a success and keep building on it.

After all, Ragnar Relay is just a few weeks away and I have three legs to run, not to mention many other races this summer and fall.

Race Confirmation

Last year was a year of luck.

I was able to register for two highly desired races before they closed - the Chicago Marathon and the Marine Corps Marathon.

Shortly after their 2013 close, both races announced that 2014 would be their first year of a lottery registration system.

So many questions surrounded the word "lottery." It's not a word that's ever been associated with Chicago's race. Then again, Chicago didn't used to be so big. Or so popular. I've heard stories from mid to late '90's participants who signed up for the race weeks before. It just goes to show you how the sport of marathoning has grown, and not to mention, how successfully the Chicago Marathon's management has worked to make it a truly premiere and world class race.

Earlier this year, the marathon announced a short list of guaranteed entry options alongside the much anticipated and all encompassing lottery.

Last week, those who met the parameters for one of the five guaranteed entry options - charity fundraising, legacy finisher, time qualifier, international tour partner or wheelchair athete - could register. Applicants at that time received an email following their submission letting them know their information would be reviewed. Confirmations would be emailed the following week.

A legacy finisher is someone who has completed five Chicago Marathons in the last ten years. I was lucky enough to have met the requirements and have confirmed my 2014 Chicago Marathon participation.

Wishing my friends and family the best of luck as they wait to hear lottery results.