Marine Corps Marathon Video

In the unlikely event that I wasn't excited enough or had my doubts about the Marine Corps Marathon, this video provides all the confirmation I need:



Bring it. I just hope my road to recovery puts me in a good position for a week from Sunday.

Taper Panic

Early this morning, I was on the bus headed to work.

A majority of the time I doze off on the bus. I welcome the bus ride most days. It breaks apart my work like and home life. I catch up on social media, emails, maybe even read up on the government shut down.

Today I was wide awake and my mind was racing. Here's what it was thinking -

A pain has developed down the left side of my neck which has my sleep schedule in flux. 

After the first few days of the pain, I went to my massage therapist. He worked through the problem area and checked my alignment. The suggestions - stand up straight. No more purse on the shoulder. Stay away from caffeine and sugar. And possibly try - seeing a chiropractor or a muscle relaxer. 

The first two recommendations are easy. Staying away from caffeine and sugar is pretty challenging, but I'm trying to reduce as much as possible. Then there's the chiro and muscle relaxers. I'm reluctant to do either. 

When I was a kid, I was always the tallest one in the class. It remained that way until high school when finally some of the basketball and football players were taller.  Being tall at a young age has it's pros and cons. One con being that for whatever reason, if you are tall, you're almost automatically on the scoliosis watch list. 

Did anyone else have that in middle school or junior high? I don't remember if they ever explained what it was to us, but rather that we had a screening. I'd had my hearing and vision checked at school and nothing bad had happened. But the scoliosis screen was different. After being reviewed in a makeshift exam room covered by sheet partitions in the gym, I was given a colored slip. I remember bring the only one in my class who got one.

 I was officially on the watch list.

In 5th or 6th grade, I was pretty sure scoliosis meant death. Why am I the only messed up one? This is what I get for being tall? I didn't even ask to be tall. 

For years there after, I was checked and screened regarding the spine. And I hated every minute of it. That is, up until it ended (as in, the screening stopped). Then I was free. 

Every time I see a chiropractor's office set up for a free screening, I think back to middle school. Certainly they will find something wrong with me. Then I'll have adjustment appointments for life. 

But I trust my massage therapist. So I guess I should do it. 

Then there's muscle relaxers. I know they have their purpose and some people swear by them. I'm more focused on getting to the source of the pain than masking the pain. I don't think it's the solution for me.

Especially not when I have a race Sunday.

Hope it magically goes away by then.

In Between Races

This year, I'm mixing things up.

I waiver between thinking my change of pace is completely awesome or completely and utterly dumb.

I've registered for two marathons...14 days apart.

The Chicago Marathon is this Sunday, October 13th. I'm proud to say this is my hometown marathon. 

When I first started training for a marathon, my goal was to run Chicago once. I was inspired to run Chicago after watching my uncle run the race while I was in high school. Talk about a memory that has lasted nearly a lifetime.

I've thought about not running Chicago. I could, per say, run a marathon somewhere else. Maybe another big city marathon. But the thing that always brings me back is what a great, I mean fantastic, race Chicago is. How can I not run Chicago when it's so damn convenient? 

It would be like me telling you I don't like the new Trader Joe's location in Evanston. It has everything every other TJ's has but its in my backyard. No more traveling to Lakeview or Glenview for my Orange Chicken, Mango Salsa, Cookie Butter and everything else uniquely Trader Joe's that I now cannot live without. Location is key. Being in my car less makes me happy. Big win for TJ's Evanston (even if your parking lot is sort of a nightmare).

No really, Chicago truly is an outstanding race.  One in which I am lucky enough to sleep in my own bed the night before, jump on the same train I take often to work and can navigate downtown better than any other city. Huge pluses, er stars. 

So when Chicago's registration opened in February, I was one of the lucky few who got in without registration issues. Chicago Marathon #6 was confirmed. 

A number of weeks later, registration for the Marine Corps Marathon opened. This was the race I had my eyes on this year. Though the registration process proved challenging, I had a registration confirmation before the race sold out. 

And then, back in March, suddenly I had two marathons two weeks apart. 

So, to the question everyone is asking me - How are you training in between?

Well, that's a great question. One in which I've done maybe a half hour of research on so far. My first source was Hal Higdon. Hal's the man. His training programs have gotten me through five marathons and probably two dozen halves, so if he says he has a plan for two marathons two weeks part, I'm just going to go with it. One day, after my thirty minutes of research concluded, I wrote down the run schedule on a napkin and pinned it to my cork board in my office. Very official. 

I've talked with a few friends who've done multiple marathons in a condensed period, including my friend George, a man who knocks out two marathons in two states in a weekend on a regular basis. The wisdom passed along to me so far has been to pick one race as my goal race.  The other is just for fun. What if goal race and fun effort are the same? I'm trying to wrap my head around that. 

My plan thus far goes something like this. Run Chicago. Don't die. Don't get sick. Don't get injured. Run a smart race (mainly this means listen to your body - my body doesn't like heat). Drink beer after crossing finish line and start honing in on best recovery practices for 13 days. Go for a long massage the next day. Maybe another before boarding the plane to DC. Drink lots of fluids. Stretch. Try to jog it out like Hal instructed. Attend a moderate yoga class (tone down the arm balances or inversions at The Lab if needed). Eat a lot and anything I want, cause, I just bought myself two more weeks of it. 

The end. 

Let's see how this works (or doesn't). 

Race Spectators & Support Crew

There's a lot to be said about training and racing (I think that goes without saying from someone who blogs weekly about it).

But one important aspect that I have written very little about to date is the spectator.

What would a race be with no spectators? I can tell you it's not a race I'd want to participate in.

Spectators can make two races on the same course feel different. They create an uplifting and inspirational vibe, often right when I'm feeling far from inspirational.

I may have gotten up early on race day to participate in the race, but those people on the sidelines, they got up early to cheer someone on. They could have stayed in bed. They probably have many things on their to do list. But on that morning, they made their way to the race site, grabbed a cup of their favorite coffee and established camp somewhere along the sidewalk. For the next hour to few hours, they have dedicated and volunteered their time to cheer.

From the Boystown Cheerleaders on the north side to the block party through Pilsen, spectators make every mile of the race different, just like the City we live in. 

They bring along balloons, funny signs and crafty comments. All are a distraction from the task at hand, so I welcome it, well, almost all of it. I have to fight back the urge to correct the guy at mile 20 who tells me I'm "almost there." Almost where? I barely know my name right now, where am I going? Or the ones who give false information about how far to go. I know they're trying to be helpful. But right then, in that moment, it takes everything in me to not correct them.

My Mom has spectated every marathon I have ever run. My Dad and best friend are right behind her. My boyfriend and a list of friends have been a great group of support as I've ran around Chicago in the last five years.

I've never known a marathon to be any other way.

What would it be like to run knowing there was no one out there trying to pick me out of the pack? It's a truly foreign concept, but yet, I'll find out in a few weeks in Washington D. C.

Peer Pressure Marathon

Running a marathon alone would be no fun.

Luckily, this probably never or very rarely happens.

But many runners do choose to train alone and then race where they may not know anyone else in the field.

The idea of a destination marathon always sounded fun. I've traveled to a few cities for half marathons which proved to be a fun weekend (Brian's Nashville hotel horror story aside).

Through the years of running the Chicago Marathon, I've met people who took on Chicago once and then went on to other states and countries to run other races. I've heard great post-race stories of journeys to OktoberFest in Munich, Amsterdam and Paris to name a few.

The question wasn't if I wanted to run a marathon in another city, but rather which marathon I wanted to run. After running Chicago five times, I have a love for the big city marathon format. Having tens or even hundreds of thousands of spectators cheering you on is truly inspiring. Nowadays, just about every large city has a marathon, so which one was I to choose?

I was pointed towards the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington D.C. Kim A. had run the race in 2005 and had a great experience. I'd met a few other people who had echoed her experience. I love Fort2Base, a race from Fort Sheridan to Great Lakes Naval Station, due to it's military theme. Then there's my brother, grandfather, uncles, aunts, cousins, neighbors and friends who have been members of our armed forces. What a great way to honor them.

These thoughts had been stewing in my head for some time before last year's Ready to Run 20 Miler. It was during the 20 Miler that Jeff and I got into a conversation about destination marathons. Jeff was running Chicago and then heading to Amsterdam for a second marathon two weeks later. As we discussed his plans that fall, we also discussed future plans. What other races did we want to run? We both said Marine Corps.

After the New Year, we regrouped on race registration plans. The Marine Corps Marathon registration was not until late March. It had sold out in less than a few hours in 2012. Knowing Marine Corps would be a tough race to get in to, Jeff and I both decided that we would register on February 1st for the Chicago Marathon.  Chicago is a great race, and neither of us minded running it again at all!

Amidst registration complications for both races, I was able to get into both. Our friend Carl had been successful in getting a Marine Corps registration. Jeff had gotten in to Chicago, but not Marine Corps. A few months later, he found a charity who works with Wounded Warriors to fundraise for. Jeff and I were now locked into two marathons in 14 days.

As they say, misery, or maybe insanity is a better word, loves company. It's more fun to run two marathons when you talk others in to it. So, in July as we had a few drinks at Jeff's before the Pearl Jam show, we managed to convince Jen to join us in D.C. We didn't have to work too hard to convince her. 

In a few weeks, the four of us will travel to Washington D.C. For three of us, it will be our second marathon of the fall.

The journey continues...

70 Miles To Go

Last Saturday, Jeff and I ran together in the last few miles of our 12 mile run.

This past weekend was the first weekend of our taper period before the Chicago Marathon.

We're enjoying the taper with some nerves as this will be first of two taper periods - We'll run the Marine Corps Marathon in DC two weeks after the Chicago Marathon.

We kept conversation going as we were both a bit sluggish and sore from a 20 mile run the weekend before.

One memorable conversation went like this -

Jeff: "From what I can figure, we only have about 70 miles to go."

Me: "70?"

Jeff: "Yeah, Chicago and Marine Corps are 52, 8 next weekend, 8 the weekend in between, then a four miler somewhere in there."

Me: "Sounds about right. The scary thing is we're doing this all in the next 28 days."

Jeff: "Yeah, but it's going to be fun."

Yes, Jeff. Yes it is.

Bus Driver Cherio

Variety is the spice of life, and so, I create variety with how I travel to work.

My routine changes in waves, though I don't particularly relate it to traffic, the Cubs home game schedule or preference. 

When I feel like being an outgoing commuter, I ride my bike. Seriously, how cool is it that I can do that? Surprisingly, I can do it in about the same amount of time it takes people to drive the same route. I get exercise, didn't use gas and feel like a bad ass. 

Then there's the train. The train is solid. It also smells like piss sometimes. Though I appreciate the train for what it is, I think I've worked through any nostoglic connection to it after I hit a million rides on it. 

Finally, there's the bus. More specially, the 147 on weekday evenings. I routinely pick up the bus off of Michigan Avenue within a 20 minute window. More often than seems possible, I end up with a bus driver I'll just call Cherio.

He is awfully happy to be driving a bus which is a pleasant surprise. He takes his role seriously and acts as a cruise director while navigating the bus back up north. He uses the intercom system on the bus to provide traffic updates ("the drive looks like a mess. Get comfotable!"), call out stops (even though the CTA voice has been taking care of that function for 15 years) and gives rider reminders ("make sure you're not leaving anything on the bus!").

The last comment should go without saying, right? Who leaves stuff on the bus? Well, last week, that person was me. I left my backpack on the 147 bus. It had a variety of items in it including my running shoes. 

In what I can only call a stroke of luck or good karma, I was reunited with my backpack the next day. Not one item was missing from it. 

So Mr. Cherio Bus Driver, keep on with your announcements. You know better than I what we need on the commute home. Thank you for reaffirming that there are still good people out in the world. 

The Morning After [the 20 miler]

Sunday was CARA's Ready to Run 20 miler.

It was around the 10th or so time I've done a 20 mile training run over the last six years.

The run went well overall. The weather was reasonably cool with periods of cloud cover. Jeff and I maintained pace with our group through 15, then slightly behind them through the finish. All and all, it's a 20 miler I'll call a success. If it was a race, we might say I PR'd the 20 miler.

For the most part, I feel like someone should feel after a 20 - sore and stiff but with a sense of accomplishment. 

Going down stairs was a slower process than normal on Monday morning, but not as bad as years past. 

I took notice of curbs as I navigated public transit that first morning, but I did not feel they were getting the better of me with their uneven ways. 

I stopped at an Argo Tea in the loop before a meeting Monday morning. I placed my order and then looked over a wide selection of loose leaf tea while others picked up their orders. I looked out the window for a moment, then thought it would be nice to sit.

That's when I saw this:

Just when I'd thought I was managing pretty well the morning after the 20 miler, reality slaps me in the face with an available, yet not attainable chair hovering a foot off the ground.

Though I imagine they wouldn't be so easy to get in and out of on a regular day, either.

Athleta Love

One August evening a few summers ago, I sat in my Aunt's kitchen drinking wine and catching up on life. As we sat around her table, I thumbed through a catalog called Athleta. In it I found a swimsuit I thought was cute (a rarity for any woman - the wine must have helped) and ordered it without thinking twice about it. By the time we came back from our trip, my swimsuit had arrived. It fit so well that I ordered a second. 

This Athleta catalog was pretty amazing.

 

A few years later, I received an email from Gap Corporation (I heart Banana Republic) saying they had recently acquired Athleta. Not only could I now get points on Athleta purchases, but they were building brick and mortar stores.

A short while later, an Athleta store opened on Southport. I can't say there's one item I've purchased that I've been disappointed in. With their 'give it a workout' guarantee, it's impossible to go wrong. So instead of shopping for the next trendy shoes, I'm focused on varying lengths of Lycra with CoolMax technology -

For the runner:

And the part-time yogi:

Everyday:

...and I don't seem to be the only one. Sara and Jen have Athleta Love, too.

Pre Race Hydration [Drinking 3]

A few Mondays ago, I was in a series of meetings that ate up most of my day. The highlight of the morning was when I received a text from Brian, with this image:

My mind immediately went to where his was when he sent it - drinking three. 

Though Brian lives in New York now, we still seem to be on the same page with our pre-race ritual: Drink three alcoholic drinks the night before a race and get a PR. 

The Napa to Sonoma Half Marathon (which is an amazing race) is talking about proper hydration - water, Gatorade, maybe some Nuuns. 

We're thinking of three craft beers. Or when running Napa to Sonoma last year, maybe a few bottles of wine followed by a very late night supermarket trip for Gatorade and snacks. 

It's all relative, right?

A Costco Portion of Gatorade

What American doesn't love Costco?

Costco symbolizes some values that are true to the American core: large consumable portions, competitive prices, strategic marketing (yes, you came in for peanut butter but you may buy that smart TV, too) and fair company values that allow their employees to earn an above board living wage. 

You know what you rarely see at Costco? Someone walking out of the store without a cart. Why? Because if you buy more than two things, the sheer volume or weight of the goods prohibits you from carrying it out on your own will. 

It seems fitting then that Costco would be the home to this bad boy:

Make no mistake about it, that's 4 pounds of Lemon Lime flavored Gatorade Endurance formula in powdered form.

On a solo trip to Costco (which is a rarity), Dave came back with this monster sighting that it was a good purchase based on the amount of Gatorade I'd drink in the next year. Though I appreciated the thought, I didn't see how I could go through that much in three years. I drink Gatorade, but not that much (or so I thought).

The purchase was timely as I was packing up for Ragnar Relay. I opened up the vacuum sealed container, put some into a Tupperware container and packed it in my bag. 

Fifteen months later, the container is just about empty. I'll have to say that Dave made a good call buying Gatorade in bulk, even if we have found ways to use it that were not just for training. 

Fighting a cold? Hung over? Need a work pick me up? Your answer is Gatorade. 

And truthfully, why shouldn't it be?

So thank you, Costco. You knew just what we needed.

Pushing Through

Long runs can take a long time. I like to think of them as journeys.

You can experience a variety of emotion, physical challenge and weather all on the same long run. 

September 7th's 18 miler was just that.

After a tune-up massage on Thursday night,  I foam rolled and crossed my fingers that my sore hip and quad would cooperate during Saturday morning's group training run.

That morning, I met Jeff and Carl, along with many others fellow marathoners-in-training, down at the Montrose site.

The weather was cooler than expected for what would be a hot day. Even still, it was humid.

The run started off ok. As we pulled into the first aid station at Diversey, I started to experience the lightheaded symptoms I had two weeks ago. I wonder where this is coming from. I've managed to train for five marathons and never have this.

I didn't want to give up 2.5 miles in to an 18 mile run, but at the same time, I didn't want to push too hard and pass out either. I decided to slow down the pace a bit and stay in the back of the group where I could trail off if needed.

I let Jeff know I wasn't feeling 100% and encouraged him to go on at the front of the group without me. He checked in with Carl, our group leader, and then came back to me. He said not to worry about it, he would run with me.

I have known Jeff since the summer of 2008 when I trained for my first marathon. With the exception of one year, he's been there with our group each year. Last year, Jeff and I ran the entire Chicago Marathon course together. Talk about stars aligning! This year, Jeff's training is going quite well. He seems stronger this year than in any other year I've known him. He could have easily continued with Carl at the front of the group, leading the way down to McCormick Place and back. Instead, he came to hang back with me. What a great friend!

We chased our group from a distance down to the turn around, then headed back north. Some miles I felt better (physically or mentally), others worse. The clouds parted to sun, back to clouds, to rain, to overcast again.

We talked about anything we could think of. Any topic could fly except to talk about running.

In the end, we finished where we started. 18 miles was complete.

A McDonald's fountain coke was purchased on the way home followed by a check mark placed next to the date where 18 miles was written.
 
The run wasn't pretty, but it was done.

[Thanks, Jeff]

10,000 Views

After a few hiccups, I started blogging on a regular basis in 2010.

The idea for the blog came out of a question I'm asked from time to time, "How's training going?" To which I reply, "It's going well." or some other one line or two line statement to summarize weeks and months into a schedule.

Depending on the person, we may get into a deeper discussion on training. Especially if the person is a distance runner, marathoner or Ironman. 

As I started creating posts a few years ago, I thought my Mom would be the only person to read them.

Thanks to sites like Chicago Running Bloggers, Facebook and Networked Blogs, my little training blog is being shared (and now, more people than just my Mom are reading).

Earlier this week the view counter hit 10,000.

So, thank you to all of you that are reading. I know many of you personally and others just through blogging communities. Thanks for taking a a few minutes out of your day a few times a week. I hope from time to time, my training journey can make you laugh and smile.

Running and Remembering

I left my place around 5am this morning to go on a run. It's a practice I've grown accustomed to over the last six years.

As I headed south, the city was dark and quiet. There was a nice breeze which I welcomed after a few days heat and humidity.

It wasn't until I turned around just south of the golf course that I saw the sun break the horizon. I chugged along until the path brought me closer to the shoreline. That's when I came face to face with the sunrise. It was a magnificent display of rays through a low hanging cloud. As I marveled in the beauty of the sunrise, I remembered that today is September 11th.

I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts, then continued on the route home.  How could I have started today not realizing what the date was?
___________________

It brought me back to where I was then. I was a senior in college, finishing my last semester at Illinois State. I had the TV on and was getting ready for work. Back then, I worked on Tuesdays and Wednesday mornings for the Illinois State Representative of the area. Truthfully, I don't know that my 21 year old mind could even process what I saw. I'd never been to New York or knew much about the World Trade Center, but in the next few days, I would learn a lot.

I drove to work just to find out that the office would be closed that day. Illinois State emailed it's students later that morning saying the university would be closed. I was near the gym I belonged to, so I headed there. I got on the treadmill and started in on a mile or two run. As I watched news coverage on surrounding TVs, it started to sink in.

It was standing on that treadmill that I started to think of how the world could change. One of my first thoughts was for my brother, then in basic training with the US Army in Ft. Knox, Kentucky. Would my brother's dreams of traveling to Europe as my Grandfather had during WWII still happen? Would he be sent somewhere as soon as he graduated from basic? What if we do go to war. Will the government re-institute the draft? Could I be drafted?

I headed back home and met up with my friend Mary Beth on the quad. Illinois State held a remembrance service which we had learned of through word of mouth. As we walked up to the quad, my phone rang. My uncle had been on business in Springfield. Springfield was, in essence, shut down. At the same time, people were fleeing the city, which is where he needed to head to get home. We met up for lunch and he killed some time before heading back.

That evening, after watching nearly a solid day of news, I needed to get out of the apartment. I headed back to the gym. Going to the gym twice in a day is not something I did back then (or do now, really). My mind was racing. What was going to happen now?
____________________

Last fall, I went to New York for the first time. My Mom and I visited many sights, including the 9/11 Memorial. During that visit, I took a few photos, including this one:

This morning, I took the few miles I had on the route back to reflect on a few things. To remember what happened. Honor those who are no longer with us because of this day. To thank those who have been sent to conflicts within and outside our borders in the name of terrorism and Homeland Security. Before I knew it, I was at my front door.

12 years is a long time, though sometimes it seems like yesterday.

SOSing the Massage Therapist

There comes a point in training where things that were once way down on the to-do list go right to the top.

Case in point last week - A desperate need for a massage. 

I'd run four miles on Tuesday morning with the same dull ache in my hip I've had for a few weeks. Weather was cool with low humidity. I felt pretty good. 

On Wednesday, I went out to run five at lunch. About two miles in, the run turned into a run/walk. Then with breaks to stretch. My right quad and IT were getting tight. 

I stretched as best as I could and rested that evening, hoping the phantom pain would disappear. 

Thursday morning the exact opposite thing happened. The muscle tightness caused me to reach for my phone and text my massage therapist at 6am. In an act of true desperation, I hoped that he had some time to fit me in that evening. 

Luckily, he did.

That evening, he checked my alignment and discovered something was off. My left hip was higher than my right and in turn, made my left leg shorter. This is not something he had ever noticed before, including when I was in to see him five weeks ago. 

After an hour of stretching and massage, I was sore but hopeful. I have to remind myself this is the hardest period of training. These things happen. But how did this happen? Did I push myself too hard in yoga? Am I sitting in a bad position at my desk? I'm searching for an answer. 

In the meantime, I've traded my desk chair in for an oversized exercise ball and rekindled my romance with the foam roller.

A Tale of Endurance Runner Food Cravings

There's a running joke in my family about my Dad (Mike). When he becomes hungry - there's no negotiation - he just has to eat...now. As my brother and I have become adults, we have slowly taken on this trait.

Now imagine that on speed and you have August and September of marathon training.

I've heard the peak of endurance athlete training compared to that of a pregnant woman. I don't know if I'd go that far, but there are out-of-the blue cravings. For example, this morning, I left my place shortly after 5am to run 9 miles. About halfway in to my run, I started thinking about Flavor-ice. Cherry Flavor-ice. Luckily there was one waiting for me in the freezer when I got home around 7am.

Who eats Flavor-ice at 7am?

Probably the same type of person who calls her intention in yoga to a Jimmy John's Beach Club. Yeah, it's happened.

On a Saturday morning long run, the group's conversation often goes to what we'll have for brunch. Some people have elaborate plans post run. My most common response is a large fountain Coke from McDonald's. It's probably the last thing on earth I should have post run. Truth be told, when I do go through the motion of purchasing just one large Coke in the McDonald's drive thru early on a Saturday, I can't finish it. But during the run, my craving was so incredibly strong that I just had to follow through to appease my inner Mike.

One year, I've craved the Hombre Burger from Revolution Brewing.  Needless to say we traveled at a lot to Logan Square that summer.

Another summer, I wrote a story about the perfect sandwich I ate post run from Whole Foods. 

Today I may have hit rock bottom. By a weird stroke of luck, a skid (yes, it was delivered to a loading dock) of Hostess Donettes arrived at work today. Each employee was given a few bags to take home. By the end of the day, I was light one bag.

Who eats 1100 calories in Hostess Donettes? This girl. I'll blame it on the distance running.

Wearing a Race Shirt to a Race

There are plenty of rules in racing, but there are plenty of unspoken rules too. Let's call them racing faux pas. They are debated in groups on long runs, during brunch after said run and in the "Ask Miles" column in Runner's World.

Here's one that has to be in many runner's top ten: Wearing a race shirt at the race

There's a rule that keeps race preparation simple: Don't try anything new on race day. From the food you eat to hours of sleep, from hydration to outfit. Who wants to run the risk of chaffing in a new shirt on race day?

Then there's the runner's need for a sense of accomplishment - I can't wear a race shirt until I've ran the race (and crossed the finish line).

But it's obvious not all runners share the same thoughts. From a 5k to a half marathon, you see people wearing the race shirt during the race. I wonder, do they think they are supposed to wear the shirt? Do they not know any better? Are they chaffing?

The inspiration for this post came last weekend as I was driving to Ravinia with my friend Corbin. As we drove, we got on the subject of his training - Corbin is training for a metric century ride. He has raised an impressive amount of money for a charity in conjunction with the race. The charity called him last week thanking him for his contributions. They offered him a few premiums for his fundraising efforts, including delivery of a jersey to wear during the race. Corbin thought the jersey was a nice offer and told his wife Margo.

Margo's an experienced runner and marathoner. Instead of showing excitement, she showed concern. What if the jersey was the race jersey? She told Corbin about the unspoken rule. Corbin challenged her on it. Her response was, "Ask Laura. She'll tell you."

And so the conversation in the car continued on this subject. Corbin is now well-educated on the subject. Let's see what he wears on race day.

I Hate Running. I Love Running.

Last week, I was driving to work down Lake Shore Drive. For a short while, I was behind a Volvo SUV which had the following sticker on it's window:

I smiled at the sight of it. Ok, I thought. I get it. You're sick of seeing the patchwork of 13.1, 26.2, 70.3 and 140.6 stickers on proud endurance athletes' vehicles. Or, quite simply, you really hate running.

I hear "I hate running" or "I would run, but I'm not a runner" a lot. Let me first say that I don't believe every person should run. I believe each person has to be focused on living an active and healthy life, and thus, should find an activity that they enjoy doing. If golf, tennis or Pilates is your thing, go do it and do it a lot. Do anything that gets you moving.

My relationship with running is a love/hate one. I think most runners would say the same. How can you possibly love it all the time? Sometimes you hate it - you have a bad run, an injury. And then (hopefully a short time later), you rekindle your romance with it.

I don't believe I was born a runner. I disliked running most of childhood. Even in high school I didn't like running - and I was on the track team. I had to decide that maybe running was ok before I started running, for lack of a better word, fun. It was a number of years after that before I fell in love with running and would call myself a runner.

Through the highs and lows, life carries on. As does your relationship with running. Maybe the "I hate running" people's journeys will evolve in time, too.

A Baby Wipe Bath

Life doesn't always provide the time or location to shower. This can be problematic, especially to someone who's just run.

Never fear. One of the world's modern marvels is here to help; The baby wipe.

I can't say I spend much time walking the baby supply aisles of Target, but you better believe I know what aisle the baby wipes are in. I don't need the fancy containers or prints. I just need it to clean and de-funk in my time of need. And I need it in volume.

Thanks to the baby wipe, there's a lot fewer excuses of why I can't get a run in from the office. Or anywhere, really.

My cousin Camille is training to run her first Chicago Marathon this year. A few weeks ago, she posted that she had taken a baby wipe bath while driving in on the highway to work. I've done some crazy things in the name of training, but Camille, I think you've taken the baby wipe bath to a whole new level!

The Concrete Jungle

In a city where we like to contain our nature and surround it by concrete, it's only fitting to have a place called the Concrete Jungle.

 Every Saturday morning, my group meets at Montrose Harbor and heads south on the lakefront trail. We start on a crushed limestone path, then move to an asphalt spur that brings us onto the formal bike path at the northern end of the golf course. We tuck under Lakeshore Drive just south of Belmont which puts us back on the limestone path down to North Avenue.

Earlier in the summer, our shorter routes don't push us over the North Avenue bridge. But by July, we're treking over the bridge and meeting up with our summertime training nemesis - The Concrete Jungle.

The Concrete Jungle, at least in my training group's terminology, is the 1.5 mile stretch between North Avenue and Ohio Street beach. This section of the lakefront is highly photographed and a popular place for Chicagoans and tourists alike to do all things recreation.

Though the skyline makes for a beautiful backdrop against the lake, I've never been able to figure out what the draw is to North Avenue and Oak Street beach. In my opinion, neither of these beaches has anything on Montrose, Foster or Hollywood Beach (or the quaint Rogers Park beaches for that matter). But nevermind beach talk - let's get back to the jungle.

We start just south of North Avenue. As the group merges onto the path at this curve, we're about five miles in to whatever our distance is of the day. We feel fresh and relatively rested. It's around 7:30am and likely not blazing hot...yet. 

The Oak Street Beach turn throws us a curveball with it's pitched path. Whereas we were running closer to the wall at Lake Shore drive for the first leg of the jungle, we now have to cross down the pitch and run right on the water. Why is the path pitched around Oak Street you ask?

 Because for a  period of the spring, winter and fall, waves crash up onto the path in the jungle. You have to use extreme caution in the winter where the path could have black ice. Ice + pitched path into lake could mean trouble. Or if nothing else, a wet remainder of your run or ride.

After crossing down to run along the water, the smooth concrete terrain becomes uneven with a decade of asphalt patchwork done between Oak and Ohio Street. It's at about this time that I wonder why and how it is that this heavily populated area of the path is still not fixed.

 

Fifteen minutes after meeting the Concrete Jungle, we've found it's end as we run up the ramp at Ohio Street beach. There's a few moments of shade before crossing in front of Navy Pier and then over the lower Lake Shore bridge to cross the river.

One may think the journey on the Concrete Jungle has come to an end. However, most runs have to finish where they started, and thus, our training run would not be complete without a round trip through the jungle.

Heading back North is two to four times as grueling as coming south. We're growing tired. Some of us are cramping. The sun is blazing down on us to no avail. I look longingly at the North Avenue boat house in the distance knowing that once we reach that point, there will be water and Gatorade, and most importantly, shade.

Over the years, we've had every variety of run possible coming back through the jungle. We've had overcast, cool weather or days we felt particularly strong. We have hot, humid days that broke our group into pairs of run/walkers.

Though I never look forward the Concrete Jungle during my long runs, I sure do wish I was running when I pass it driving on Lake Shore Drive.