CARA Circuit Runner

If you're a runner in Chicago area, you've likely heard of the Chicago Area Runner Association. CARA is a non-for-profit organization devoted to expanding, motivating, supporting and celebrating the running community of Chicagoland.

I first heard of CARA when I began searching for 5Ks nearly ten years ago. The CARA website was a great resource of quality, community races. As my training journey evolved a few years later, I was reminded of CARA's marathon training program. Since 2008, I've handed over my summer Saturday mornings to the CARA marathon group at Montrose Harbor. It was in this group that I met some of my closest friends.

During the winter, CARA holds an awards banquet to recognize the previous year's milestones and shining stars. This past January was no different. As part of the banquet this year, all attendees were entered to win a great prize - Free entries to races in the 2014 CARA circuit. This Christmas-like gift was presented by Liberty Mutual Insurance.

A few weeks ago I received an email from CARA notifying me that I'd won the prize. I received the email while in a work meeting and couldn't help but get excited. I won! Awesome. And I didn't just win something random, but something I really wanted! Who doesn't love a free race entry (or a few)?

The only requirement is that I run at least seven races this season. It's a challenge I'm willing to take on (and hopefully succeed).

Now to make my selections and commit to training for spring and summer.

The Shamrock Shuffle (held last weekend) was the first race of the circuit.

The second race is coming up this weekend. Heading to Oak Park for The Race That's Good for Life!

Shamrock Shuffle 2014

If you're a runner in Chicago, you know of and have probably run the Shamrock Shuffle. 

It's the race that unofficially represents the "start" to racing season in Chicago. 

The Shamrock Shuffle is an 8K race that leads about 30,000 runners through the streets of downtown Chicago. For years, the first few miles of this race mirrored the Chicago Marathon (which is fitting, since the same organizers who put on the marathon also handle the shuffle). It's a large and very well run race. 

In 2005, I ran it for the first time with my friend Margo and Uncle Mark. Some things have remained the same in nine years, like the expo being held at Navy Pier (mighty convenient for some) and start line set up. 

Other things have changed, and I can say, definitely for the better. 

Some time ago, the race announced a wave start which introduced qualifying corrals. This helped the faster, more experienced runners be grouped together and removed from the slower, more casual runners. Overall, I think it created a better race experience for all. 

This year, the race announced a new course. The course no longer took a western jaunt out down Jackson. Instead, miles 3 and 4 of the race visited the financial district and River North before heading down Michigan Avenue into the South Loop. 

Margo and I started together in Corral F on Sunday. We couldn't have asked for better weather. 

I've waited in the start corral at the Shamrock Shuffle and experienced many emotions over the seven times I've run it. The first year, it was pure nerves. It was my first 8k race. Other years, when I maintained a strong winter training program, the Shuffle seemed like a piece of cake. 

On Sunday, it was a question mark. How would it go? I haven't been running much this winter season. Not like other years anyway. What type of performance would I be happy with? Keeping my Shamrock Shuffle PR in mind, I hoped I could get somewhere in that range. 

Parts of the race I felt great, while others I questioned how it is that I think I'll run a marathon again this year (especially when 5 miles seems, well, not easy as it should). In the end, I was happy to be out running on that beautiful spring day. It made me hopeful for summer in Chicago.

Guess it's time to get back on the roads. Hopefully the weather will cooperate. 

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.

To Run Again

Last Wednesday was the 50th day of 2014.

It also happened to be the first day of the year I ran outside.

It's strange to say that. I've ran through most recent winters, but not this last winter. This winter has been mighty cruel.

I crossed the finish line of the Marine Corps Marathon at the end of October. Following the completion of that race, I ran a handful of times before the cold set in. Then I stopped running... completely.

It wasn't just the cold that convinced me to hang up my shoes - I was done with running. Running wasn't very fun anymore. Running was something I was doing because I had commitments. I wasn't doing it for the joy of running. At least not anymore.

So a month went by, then two months, then three. In that time, little to no running happened. I didn't feel bad about it. It was nice to do a non-running exercise for awhile.

But last Wednesday was different. Spring peered out from behind the gray sky and over the ice covered lake. As the sun shined, the snow started melting. The lakefront path appeared and prompted me to pack my running shoes before heading out to work.

That afternoon I laced up my shoes for the first time in a long time. I took note of how many layers (and layers of neon colors at that) I was putting on and the gear I needed. This process that had been second nature for years I now found myself second guessing.

Running is so much different than yoga.

I started out slow on my normal route. I dodged puddles and enjoyed the sunshine. Though the run was far from effortless, it was nice to be out there again. Enjoying it.

A Tale of a Great Sandwich

A few summers ago, after consuming a particularly delicious sandwich from Whole Foods, I wrote a story about it. 

I decided it was a blog-worthy addition. 

Here it goes:

There once was a veggie sandwich at a fancy, North Shore Whole Foods. 

It was purchased and brought across the City of Chicago lines, where it sat overnight in a fridge. 'What will my destiny be?' asked the sandwich. 

"Certainly a sandwich of my size is destined for a rather large, hungry human." 

The sandwich rested overnight in the fridge, right where a Costco chicken carcass had previously sat.

Then the morning came and the fridge opened. The sandwich had it's first peak at it's probable eatter, and it was, a woman. The sandwich had only a brief look before being stuff into a Land's End lunch bag. 

The sandwich then felt a door close, walking, a bus, more walking, an elevator, and then...rest. The sandwich sat in the darkness of the lunch bag for a few hours.

Around 11:30 it happened. The bag was opened and the sandwich was pulled out of the bag. Now the sandwich got a proper look at the eatter. 

The sandwich chuckled, "This woman is no match for me! She will never be able to finish all of my deliciousness. She will talk a big game, but in the end, she will have to quit. mmmwhhawwww....!"

The sandwich was unwrapped and had a proper eye-to-eye with the woman. In true form and full confidence, the sandwich was ready for what lied ahead. 

The first bite was tiny.

"She's never going to make it!" said the sandwich

But they continued, and continued. 

Suddenly half the sandwich was gone. The woman set the sandwich down. 

"Ah ha! I knew it." said the sandwich

After a short break and email check, the woman picked up the half-a-sandwich. This time the look on her face was more serious. The sandwich noticed a marathon training schedule close by.

"Oh no, she's one of those." he said in one of his last breaths 

It was then that the sandwich knew - he was a goner.

The End.

A Year of Forearm Balancing

Last winter, after Sara and I were a few classes into The Lab, I heard one of the instructors use the phrase, "That's a (x) year pose."

My impatient mind took note at what the measure was. Not hours, nor days or even months. Years.

Though most of the poses ranged from challenging to impossible at that time, the "year pose" statement was a reminder that yoga wasn't about to come easy.

Back then, I don't know that I'd given enough thought to my practice to know if I would still be in a yoga routine for a year. It was, after all, winter. Soon enough spring would come and I'd be outside doing what I really loved - running.

In comes forearm balance:

Borrowed from backonpointe.tumblr.com on Pinterest

How many times had I done forearm balance before coming to The Lab? Zero. How many times I have done it since? Hundreds. Dozens of attempts in just about every class I've taken there.

My first forearm balance was more of an imbalanced train wreck of bad headstand. In other words, I had no idea how to even approach the pose.

Over time, I would build strength, stretch out my legs and learn the correct position of the hips. I would spend dozens of classes kicking with too little effort to get a leg up. I would watch as others kicked up effortlessly while I waited for instructor help.

Back then, a year seemed like an awfully long time.

When running season wrapped up in October, I changed up my yoga routine. Instead of coming just once a week, I would try twice a week. Maybe even back to back days. I would challenge myself each practice and I'd be sore afterwards, but I knew I was getting stronger.

As the holidays closed in, I decided to try for three classes a week. I was running next to never by then, so I had exercise time to commit. Three days turned into three days in a row. In the last few months of increased practices, some poses have started to come together. Poses I never thought I would be able to do (using that phrase lightly as I have a long way to go to mastery), like 8 Angle pose, Dragonfly and Firefly.

Regardless of how challenging the class was, a class at The Lab always ends with an inversion. So whether I was successful or not that day, forearm balance was staring me down at the end. I used to dread it. I would be so sweaty and exhausted at the end of a class that I didn't think I could muster the strength to do it. Over time, my body would show me that it had acclimated to my new form of training. Suddenly I didn't mind forearm balance.

At the beginning of Febraury (which I'm guessing was week 51 or 52 at The Lab), I've finally started to kick up into forearm balance without touching the wall. Proper positioning in the kick up. Victory! Balancing for a few seconds. Double victory!

A year. Yep, a year sounds just about right.

Legacy Finishers

Yesterday morning, the Chicago Marathon made an announcement. They laid out the rules and timeline for what will be the first official year of a lottery system. Lotteries are not uncommon in marathoning, especially for other World Marathon Majors like New York and London. The Majors consists of six races (Boston, Berlin, Chicago, London, New York and Toyko) which are arguably some of the best and most sought after races in the world.

After last year's registration site hiccup (as in, so many people were trying to get into the race on opening day that it crashed active.com's servers), rumors have swirled that 2014 would be Chicago's first true lottery.

I was lucky enough to get in to both Chicago and Marine Corps during their registration debacles last year. Some of my friends and family members were able to get in at a later date as registration reopened or they decided to fundraise for a charity to gain entry.

This year, I've been waiting as so many others have to hear the news. What would the guidelines be? Yesterday morning I received a text from Sara telling me about the Legacy Finisher option. I'd never heard of such a thing. What does that mean? I searched for the term on my iPhone read this:

 

After months of dodging thoughts about my 2014 racing plan, today a door may have opened. Based on the prerequisites, I'll qualify as a Legacy Finisher. Which begs to answer the question, "How could I not run Chicago this year?" I'm happy to finally be thinking about racing again. I've taken a long break from any type of formal training program and a short hiatus from much running at all. With the winter rearing it's ugly head, I've been quite content not running.

Yesterday's news made me think of sunshine, shorts and early morning training runs along the lakefront. Of my mile trek down Sheridan where I wave to my neighbor Glen and constantly update my Playlists to get me through the hours of training each week. Of post long run trips to McDonald's for that damn fountain Coke. Of the friends I've made training and the places we've traveled in the name of racing. It reminded me of my summertime routine for the last 6 years.
Did I honestly think I wasn't going to run a marathon this year? Until yesterday, I might have said yes.

Starting a New Journey

Last year, I embarked on a new fitness journey. Little did I know when I started taking classes at The Lab that it would become a place I'd relearn anything I thought I knew about yoga. As I posted recently on The Lab's Facebook page, "The Lab is a life changer."

Yoga, you know...it's that thing that anyone can do. It's just simple stretching and relaxing, right? Wrong. The Lab is not your mother's yoga. Or at least, not what I knew of yoga.

I've taken yoga on and off over the last ten or so years, mainly with the goal in mind of supplementing running. Running was always #1. Yoga was a vehicle to fend off injury. Or something to do when injured. I never thought of yoga as being hard.

But oh, The Lab has taught me so much. It's reminded me to check my confidence at the door because yoga practice is something I have a LONG way to go on. Even now after a year of taking classes on and off at The Lab I say that. Though yoga practice isn't supposed to be about comparing yourself to others, I'm constantly learning from others. And so, seeing this on Pinterest reminded me of some of my practices. Set the bar low and start with little victories.

 

As I've worked through my weeks and months as a Level 1 (or barely Level 1) at the Lab, I've reminded myself that I wasn't always good at distance running either. Building myself up to be a distance runner took time (like years). I had a lot of set backs along the way, some of which were easy to recall:

I ran in shoes from Kohl's and got shin splints. 

I couldn't get past a mile and a half on the treadmill without dogging out. 

I couldn't acclimate to the heat. Or the cold.

I walked when I should have been running.

I couldn't talk while running. 

I couldn't run without music. 

I couldn't get over the fear that I would finish last in a race. 

I chaffed. 

I became injured while training for the Soldier Field 10 and couldn't run the race. 

I became injured again while training for a half marathon. 

I thought I should just give up after trying for a few years to be a distance runner. -- I'll just run 5 and 10K's, I can manage that.

I got runner's knee.

I irritated my IT band.

I didn't finish a long run.

I sprained my ankle.

But in the end, the end being the accomplishment of my first half marathon, I had erased some of the doubt. It might not have had pretty form and speed, but I finished. And that's how it starts. So I hope I can put my doubtful mind at ease as I continue to see small gains in yoga with the reminder that the master was once the student at just about anything.

 

To Fly a Pigeon

I don't know many people who like pigeons. Especially not in Chicago. My friend Bill once referred to them as "flying rats," a term I took a liking to immediately. All this talk of flying and pigeons brings me to what might be my most feared yoga pose to date;  Eka Pada Galavasana or Flying Pigeon pose. 

This pose tops the list due to an encounter I had with it last spring. At the time, we were setting up the with a block to become familiar with the proper positioning. As I connected my folded leg with my triceps, I attempted to lean my weight forward to get my head out over my arms. 

 

Then my shelved leg slipped and I went down. I heard a unique crunching noise as my nose made contact with the wood floor. As I pressed up off the mat with my hands, I wasn't sure what to expect. Would there be blood? Did I dislocate my nose? 

I saw spots as I opened my eyes. Who knew you could fall so hard from 14" off the ground? Well, now I knew.

 

Flying Pigeon isn't a pose I'd ever encountered before, so I hoped that I might not run into it for some time. We were not off to a great start together. But shortly thereafter, over at The Lab, Flying Pigeon would make an appearance. Again and again. 

I can't say that I've come to terms with it completely, but with each practice, I'm taking steps to get a bit closer to something like this photo (and hopefully nose injury free).

Here's a short video of how to get into Flying Pigeon:

Finding Time

Oh time...why does the mere thought of saying the word out loud launch me into an overplayed Hootie and the Blowfish song? Since we're already there - as the song says - time, you ain't no friend of mine. (And for the record, Darius Rucker, I really do prefer you as a country artist!)

I'm someone who hates to miss an opportunity, so almost to a fault. I rarely say no. I want to squeeze everything possible into my day, week and month. I don't want to miss anything if that's an option. I believe in getting up early and beating the crowds to a great breakfast spot. To be the first to arrive and the last to leave a theme park. To rise before the sun to run, even if I was out late last night.

I recently saw this graphic on Pinterest and thought it fit my "Burn the candle at both ends" take on life rather well:

Whether you're good or below average creating time, we give preference to our goals. 

Yes, it does take time to train for a marathon. Heck, it takes time to work out period. Whether we're talking a few hours a week or 15, that time can be found regardless of profession, marital status or age. 

Sometimes when I'm at a gathering with some of my running friends, it's interesting to me to think of how different we are. Yet we all have a common fitness goal. We decided that we would run a marathon that year (or a few half marathons, a tri, an ultra, or maybe an Ironman), and we're doing it. No or not possible is not an option, and so, we find time.

Here's to New Year's goals and keeping to them. Welcome, 2014.

Marathon Maniac

Once you've run a few races, you've undoubtedly seen the bright yellow singlets signaling a member of an elite club - Marathon Maniacs.

In my life, I've gotten to know two maniacs (and they just so happen to know each other). 

My friend George recently completed his quest to run a marathon in every state. You might wonder (as I had): "How can someone do that and work?"  Here's where the maniac mentality really comes in to play; George systematically plotted his 50 state journey, sometimes tackling two races in a weekend. I've read Facebook posts over the last year that went something like this - he flew to Wyoming and ran a marathon on Saturday. On Saturday afternoon, he got in a car and drove to South Dokota to run a marathon there the next day. Following Sunday's race, he flew home. 

To close out his roundabout of states, he ran five marathons in five days this summer while raising money for a Greek American charity. 

George is a running machine. A true maniac at a completely different level. As George would say "I Love Running and Running Loves Me."

One of my coworkers used to work with George. She's also completed a marathon in each state. Among other accomplishments, she has run every day for the last few years. Every day. I can't even fathom that. I wonder how many pairs of shoes she goes through in a year...I digress. 

Following the Marine Corps Marathon, I received an email from another co-worker, our Ironman General Counsel. He takes is training pretty seriously and is quite fast, and so, I blush whenever I'm grouped in the same category as him in conversations around the water cooler. Truthfully, he's at a complete different level than me. Maybe one I can aspire to be at if I only didn't love chocolate and beer so much. Then again, that's what's makes this all for fun, right?

His email was brief, but went something like this:

Congrats on your Marine Corps Marathon finish. You've completed two marathons in less than 16 days. That makes you a Marathon Maniac.

Really? I'm a Marathon Maniac? I'm not plotting to run races back to back or in multiple states. Is he sure? Siri, what's the most basic definition of a Marathon Maniac?

BRONZE LEVEL

2 Marathons within a 16 day time frame.
3 Marathons within a 90 day time frame.


And there we have it.  Who knew Jeff and I would accomplish such a feat last year? Actually, this is Jeff's second year running two marathons in 14 days, so it's safe to say he's a two-time Maniac.

http://www.marathonmaniacs.com/are-you-a-marathon-maniac/maniac-criteria

2013: Run. Yoga. Love.

Do you ever find yourself looking back at the end of a year and asking yourself, "What was 20___ the year of?" 

I'm not much on New Year's resolutions, so I can't say I started this year off with goals in mind. Life happens and plans evolve, and with it (I'm happy to say) came two proud accomplishments of 2013. 

Marathoning

I started 2013 knowing that I would keep my marathon streak alive and run the Chicago Marathon for the sixth year in a row.  But due to  a combination of luck, chance and some healthy peer pressure from Jeff, I found myself early in 2013 registered for two marathons two weeks apart. 

It was exciting and also scary to have a new twist on summer marathon training. I found myself from time to time getting wrapped up in the physical questions of how to properly prepare myself for such a feat. Truthfully, what I should have tried to prepare myself for was the level of raw emotion I'd feel throughout my nearly five hour journey at the Marine Corps Marathon. Even to this day, I fight to explain how moving that experience was. I thought very little during that experience about my physical state. Instead, I thought an awful lot about the cause. The faces. The very young faces of our military. The volunteerism for the cause. And in a short period of time, my thoughts became very personal as I thought of my brother. 

By early afternoon of October 27th, my 34th birthday, I'd completed my second marathon in two weeks. As the Marine Corps Marathon organizers would say, mission accomplished.

Yoga

Sara and I started the year continuing our yoga studio journey throughout the city. That is, until February when I was introduced to The Lab. Sara warned me that The Lab was a yoga experience like no other. Shortly after entering the studio for our first class, I saw exactly what she meant. This place was going to push and challenge me to do things I would never think were possible this year - arm balances, inversions, twists and back bends. As each month has passed, I've experienced small victories in poses which have lead me from my start at level [insert a very low number] to level [insert a higher number to show progress]. For that, I have to thank the instructors and owner of The Lab, as well as Sara for the introduction.

My approach to yoga used to be that it was an important supplement to running, and therefore, I had to do it. Over the last two months, I've noticed that thinking has changed. Yoga is now it's own important thing. Whereas I used to plan my schedule around running, I now find myself making time for yoga - classes after work or even practicing poses in my living room.

So, 2013, you've been a pretty good year. Thanks.

The Day Running Stopped

Over the last six weeks, I've been struggling to explain to myself what happened to the runner in me. I crossed the Marine Corps Marathon finish line and essentially hung up my running shoes.  I've never done that before. 

Around Thanksgiving, I wrote a post explaining the beginning of this experience. How strange it is not to run. Or have a desire to. For the first time in many years, have runners pass me by and I've not been jealous. 

Since that post, I've run zero times.

Does this mean my running career is over? I keep thinking back to the scene in Forrest Gump where he suddenly stops running. 

Maybe this is me (minus the facial hair). 

But today, like any, is a new day. For the first time in a number of days, it's a balmy 29 degrees and the sun is out. To top it off, I'm off work today. 

Maybe today's the day to say hello to running again. I'm going to charge up my Garmin and iPod, then put on my cold weather gear. I'll head down the route I've taken countless times over the last seven years and I'll see what happens. It might be a little bit awkward like a first date, but hopefully running understands that sometimes we need to give it a break. 

November: What a Difference a Month Makes

In an evening, October changed to November. Along with it went my desire to run.

How can someone spend so much time running and then shut it down in a matter weeks? 

When I had this feeling last fall, I decided it was a sign (and time) for a break.

I read up on taking a break from running. Runner's World and other sources recommended it in varying lengths. It seemed like the thing to do, well, or at least try.

Before I could even experiment with a lot less running, I needed to find an activity that could fill my workouts (because in the back of my mind, I was on the path of a Marathon to Couch Program)

So I rode my bike on the bike trainer and got back into a routine with yoga. Some people would say the cross training is enough to do for a period of time. Months even.

But I couldn't let it go completely. I kept with a weekend long run and tried to do a mid-week run to keep with some type of schedule.

This year and very quickly after Marine Corps, the weather changed to winter in Chicago. A few years ago I would have told you the cold weather didn't stop me from getting outside. But I'm singing a different tune this year. I've been getting over to The Lab about twice a week this month. A nice change of pace from running and truthfully some of most challenging workouts I've done in some time.

Last Wednesday was November 27th. A month since the Marine Corps Marathon. Since the marathon, I've run three times. Each effort was a poor existence of a run. Runs in which I wanted them to be over soon after the start. I could blame it on a lot of things, but I think an off season training plan of little running is in order. At least in the short term.

Two weekends ago I headed downtown for a yoga arm balance and inversion seminar. As if I can't find enough injury in running, I'm now finding fascination in poses that cause bruising and falling. I saw a few runners as I drove out to the studio. Normally, I would see a person running and think how I'd like to be running, especially if I hadn't yet that day. But on that day, I was happy to not be running. I really didn't have any desire to. I was more interested in checking out this yoga seminar for the afternoon.

So I'll take that as a sign. We'll see what happens with this not running (or not running very much) thing. It could be good. Maybe the not running thing will allow me to grow in yoga. 

[Sorta] Being Bob [Vila]

Somewhere in between tapering for Chicago and leaving for Marine Corps, an unfortunate situation appeared in my kitchen. The light had stopped working.

I heard a crackling noise when I flipped the switch and had a sense as to what it was. Dave volunteered to fix it.

As weeks went by, not having a light in the kitchen was driving me crazy. The more time that passed, the more I read up on how a bad switch being an electrical hazard. And, well, that's never good.

I watched a few youtube videos and decided I was going to fix it. 

The first weekend of November was a strange one for me. I had no long run scheduled. I woke up early and ran some errands. Errands that eventually brought me to Home Depot.

I love Home Depot. The smell of freshly cut lumber is by far my favorite smell. It reminds me of my childhood and my Dad's never-ending home improvement projects. He can destroy and then rebuild anything (though sometimes to my Mom's dismay).

We watched a good amount of This Old House with Bob Vila back then. Bob reminded me of my Dad - the flannel and jeans, tool belt, boots, mustache/beard combo. Bob worked on projects in New England where people had funny accents. A big change from the job sites in the Chicagoland area I imagine.

By the time I left for college, I'd helped with a variety of projects - painted few rooms, assisted with the construction of a gazebo, sealed a deck and laid tile in a bathroom. So I was no stranger to a Handy Andy or Builder's Square back in the day.  

But on this Saturday morning, I was at Home Depot alone. It's strange to go into a home improvement store without my Dad. He has the place memorized and knows exactly what to get. I on the other hand, wander the aisles looking for the short list I've created based on a few trusty youtube videos. Though I had hoped I'd get everything I needed in this trip, the rule of Home Depot is that you'll make two to three times the number of trips you'd originally thought to complete a project. 

I pick up a switch, electrical tape and wire tester, then head to the cashier. As I check out, I wonder - Have I bought the right switch? Will I end up electrocuting myself? How bad will it hurt? I pay the $9 bill and leave the store.

I head home and decide to tackle it right away. I re-watch the youtube video on my ipad and follow the steps. I take photos along the way. This way, if I screw something up and have to call in reinforcements, at least he'll know what I did. 

In less than ten minutes, I had replaced the switch and had a working kitchen light again.

Electricity is amazing.

The old switch pulled out from the wall.

The new switch before reattaching to the wall.

Dragonfly

 Now that October has concluded, I'm shifting gears out of running (at least a bit) and realigning my focus with yoga. I dusted of my Lab class pack and headed back for challenging practices of arm balances and inversions. 

Last week Sara and I took a class with Carmen, owner of The Lab. Carmen is (and truthfully all of the instructors at The Lab are) amazing. We spent time working on a variety of poses, including Dragonfly (or Parsva Bhuja Dandasana for those of us using sanskirt).

Here's an photo example of the pose:

                                     

When I first started at The Lab in February, I remember watching our instructor set up this pose and thought I'd never see a Dragonfly of my own.

I'll do my best to explain how you get into the position:

You start sitting on the ground with your feet on the floor and your knees bent. Place your left leg into a figure four so that the left ankle rests just below the right knee. From there, you work on your breathing and twisting your torso to the right. Only once you've established contact with your left foot on the back of your left tricep can you move on.

Here's where it really got tricky for me - Now it's time to get into position to balance on your arms. Without losing the foot/tricep contact on your left side, swivel up onto your right toes allowing your arms to get into position about shoulder distance apart.

For months, I struggled with this transition. Having enough strength to lift my hips with one foot. When I could lift my hips, my foot would often slide right off my tricep.

                                         

Last week, I was finally able to connect the steps above and then lift my right foot. A few seconds of yoga glory and a reminder that things that seem impossible become possible with hard work and dedication.

Here's a short tutorial on Dragonfly pose:

Marine Corps Marathon

Sunday was the day. We had traveled to Washington DC with one goal in mind - to complete the Marine Corps Marathon.

Jen and I woke up around 5. We had breakfast and put on our race outfits before heading to the Metro at 6. We boarded the train to see it filled with other race participants. More got on at each proceeding stop. When the train reached the Pentagon, there was a mass exodus.

 We followed people in front of us up the Metro's stairs, through the exit fare turnstile and up onto the street. It was still dark out as we walked along a road and eventually into a parking lot. The parking lot set up looked similar to other race staging areas, but instead of volunteers, there were Marines. 

We met up with Carl and Jeff before dropping our bags off at designated UPS trucks. From there, we followed the crowd onto a highway which was the race's start corral.

At first glimpse of the field, I could see this race would have a different feel from Chicago. Many participants wore red, white and blue shirts for military and veterans charities. Some had laminated photos safety pinned to the backs of their shirts. Photos of fallen heros. 

The National Athem was sung in a way I've never heard before. It was the perfect accompaniment to the spectacle before our eyes - military veteran skydrivers with large Ameican flags. We were in awe.

Shortly thereafter, the race started. We crossed the start line under the large Marine Corps marathon arches and headed into Roslyn. The course quickly began it's hilly climb in the first few miles. As we headed up the second incline, we saw the first struggling hand cycle participant. The wheelchair and hand cycle participants has started a few minutes ahead of the runners, but the hills proved challenging for many. A few people ran around the hand cyclist helping to clear the way for him as we all continued up the hill. Other participants yelled ahead "make a hole" to which the field parted to make way. As the hand cyclist passed participants, people clapped, cheered and yelled encouraging Marine sayings. 

The participant camaraderie was like nothing I'd ever experienced during this race. It reminded me that the meaning of this race went beyond the 30,000 individuals participating that day. Each aide station was staffed with Marines handing out Fluids and Marine medical staff at first aide. As we continued out of Roslyn and into Georgetown, we saw individuals and small groups of men in Marine fatigues. Some wore full gear. As they passed, other participants gave them words of encouragement or thanks. Once again we were reminded. 

The steep hills in the first few miles lead to smaller hills, and eventually to semi flat land. That is, until there was a bridge to cross. Some areas were heavy with spectators and some were desolate. I remember wondering if the lower level of crowd support might be a downer, but is enjoyed the section through the tree lined streets around the National Zoo. 

We headed back in to Arlington and reached mile 15. Signage appeared on the left side of the road for a charity called "Wear Blue Run to Remember." For a solid mile, signs were placed about every five feet. Each sign stood for a soldier lost in combat. The sign contained a photo, name, home town, unit/base. As we approached the signs, I heard a runner behind me say she was fighting back tears, and soon, so was I. We found a way to run a bit faster that mile. 

We crossed over a bridge and eventually onto the National Mall. We headed towards the Capitol building, rounded a corner, and then headed away from it. We cross the 20 mile mark and kept chugging along. 

Along the way, I saw a few runners who had pinned signs to their shirts about running the Chicago Marathon two weeks ago. I tried to talk with them a bit. Crazy can only seem normal if it finds another crazy, right?

In the last few miles of the race, we crossed over what the race refers to as "Beat the Bridge." Keeping in mind that even moderate hills can seem monstrous as this point in the race, this bridge was a might one indeed. 

We headed into Crystal City, then down the highway we had started on. I prepared myself for the hill I had heard so much about. I had heard it was huge. A half mile, oh no, a mile straight up. And so steep...I'd probably never seen anything like it. As we moved down the highway, barricades and signage appeared. It can't be long now. We turned off the highway and I saw the hill. It was steep, but it wasn't long. And if I was thinking about walking, well, there were Marines, of course. 

As I ran up that final stretch, I tried to look at each and every face in uniform lining the curb. I wondered where they're form. Are they stationed in DC right now? Did they travel far to get here? How did they decide they wanted to be a Marine?  

Then there was a finish arch and the memorial. I was congratulated by several Marines, then presented with my race medal. I was thanked for my support, had the medal placed around my head and then saluted. Again, I teared up. Wow, this is just an incredible day. 

I finished about 12 minutes behind my time in Chicago two weeks earlier. Overall, the 2013 Marine Corps Marathon was my median marathon time of seven. As I walked up to the memorial, I wondered if I could have pushed myself a bit harder. Inspiration was everywhere.

What a great birthday. 

More on Wear Blue Run to Remember

http://www.wearblueruntoremember.org/ 

Thank you to Jeff Reardon for the great photos.

The Big Question

The question of the summer and fall was, could a person of moderate fitness run two marathons in 14 days?

The answer? A surprising yes. 

I wasn't sure, back in the spring, if I would be able to pull it off. So much can happen in training, and they're all things that have happened before - injury, head cold, heat.

The million dollar question was, could a person train for one marathon but, in essence, then run a second, "bonus" marathon? 

Why yes, you can. 

Following the finish at Chicago, I stepped onto unfamiliar ground. Instead of the finish line marking the end of my training, it was instead a highlight in the journey. 

Post Chicago was much like any marathon I've run. I was sore and stiff. After a number of days, I went to yoga to stretch out. All in all I felt good, but like I was carrying lead in my shoes. That Saturday, I went on a 6 mile run. Again, I felt a lot like I knew post marathon week to be. 

Yet I had another marathon on the horizon. 

I was semi-following Hal Higdon's plan of "training in between marathons" but more that that, I was practicing the art of not freaking out. What will be will be. 

Until Jen and I started to set our clothes out the night before, it didn't seem real anyway. I'd never run a marathon outside of Chicago. I was on vacation as far as I knew. 

As morning came, reality came quickly as we grabbed our gear and shuffled to the metro. This was it. Race day two. 

A year ago, this race was just an idea. One that I thought fitting I run. Now I had four friends joining in the experience. 

I had thoughts of uncertainty along with some nervousness, but overall I knew one thing - I would finish. Hopefully, I would finish strong. I would do this because it's what needed to be done. Today wasn't about what I did two weeks ago, it was about the cause today. I would be reminded of that with each mile. 

And so, the four of us stood on an unassuming highway in DC. We heard a perfect rendition do the Star-Spangled Banner as paratroopers jumped out of an airplane with flags strapped to them. We were about to start on one of the most patriotic journeys do our lives. And in that moment, I knew I was ready.

Photo courtesy of Jeff Reardon

First Thoughts After Finishing

I had anticipated during training how my range of post Chicago Marathon emotions would be.

As I crossed the finish line this year, I teared up a few times.

I remember not getting emotional the first year and then wondering if I was missing out on something by not crying. If everyone else is, shouldn't I? Am I missing out on an experience? I made up for it the second year where I completely lost my you know what in the finisher's corral. A sobbing mess. Come on, can't I get something in between?

The tears were ones of triumph. Though my body and mind have been through a marathon several times, the rush of emotions after finishing is so incredibly unique that I fight to find a word other than triumph.

The running great Frank Shorter once said "You have to forget your last marathon before you try another. Your mind can't know what's coming." 

Ah ha, Frank, you're a smart man.

A little bit of triumph and a lot of the Marine Corps Marathon Godzilla.

What was I thinking? I just finished a marathon and I'm in pain. I want to do this to myself again in two weeks?

Yep Frank, not forgotten yet. I must give myself some time.

I walked through the finisher's corral and loaded up on water, Gatorade (I can barely stomach the thought of drinking another cup, but my body needs it, so let's do this), bananas, a box from Mariano's and of course, a beer. I skip over the mylar blanket (not really feeling the spaceman post marathon thing) and the finisher photos. I make eye contact with a guy my Dad's age who puts the medal around my head. He says he is proud of me. I start tearing up again.

I walk slowly towards gear check. This has to be the slowest I've walked. Ever. But I try to enjoy it for what it is. It's not running and I'm happy about that right now. I find Jeff at the end of the finisher's corral. He tells me he beat our 2012 PR by 30 seconds. I am so happy he went for it. I'm so happy for Jeff in that moment that I don't care about my time.

We grab my bag and talk for a few minutes. Jeff's heading back to the CARA compound in the Hilton and I'm going to meet up with my Mom, Dave and Kim at runner reunite. I wobble my way to K and see three familiar and very smiley faces.

We pack up and head to the train to go home. We reach the train station at Jackson and the elevator is out of order. Of course it is. The one day I'm willing to use it. I walk down the two long sets of stairs backwards to the platform.

A few minutes later a train arrives. I'm lucky enough to grab a seat. To sit feels glorious.

My mind wanders as we travel back to my place. I find myself thinking of Marine Corps and being excited.

It doesn't take long, does it Frank?

Race Day [Chicago Marathon 2013]

Sunday was the day, October 13th.

A day I've trained for 18 weeks for.

Marathon morning.

I laid everything out the night before and slept surprisingly well. Maybe the nerves settle over time as you form a routine with a race.

I walked to the train around 5:30. This year the marathon required that all participants use the expo issued bag for gear check. I walked into the station and up to the platform. It was filled with people carying the same bag. It amazes me to see all these people, likely my neighbors, have all been training for the same race I have. We've run on the same streets for hours over the summer. We are just one section of one neighborhood of Chicago.

The reach of the Chicago Marathon never ceases to amaze me.

I head downtown a bit earlier that morning planning extra time for added race security. I meet up with Jeff and Ann on the train. Jeff and I exit the train and walk into the Chicago Hilton around 6:30. The hotel is a marathon runner mad zone. We run in to one of our pace leaders and reshuffle the items in our gear check bags. The bathroom line is crazy, so we head out to the super secret CARA porta potties. We arrive at the location to no line. Every year I think to myself that having quick access to a restroom this close to the start line is worth it's weight in gold.

Shortly after 7 we are set up in Corral G. The 7:30 wave starts, but we're too far away to hear the gun go off. There's a good 20,000 runners in front of us. The mass moves forward and the Start line structure grows larger. By 8:08, we've crossed the start line.

From the start line on out, much of the race is a blur. I feel good. Jeff and I are talking as the miles click away. We see my Mom, uncle and Dave at a few locations on the North Side. On the way back south, we see my friend Sara. We maintained our pace well back through downtown and the out and back west.

Through UIC is where my body started to realize we were nowhere close to done. We kept up a good pace in the next few miles. During this time, I began to feel cramping coming on in my left foot. I've had this feeling while sitting or sleeping, but never while running. As we pass mile 21, the cramping is growing more pronounced to where I'll have to walk it off. Our pacing has been great up to this point. We're on pace to break last year's PR by eight minutes. I look to Jeff and tell him to keep going. He should PR today. I don't want to hold him back with whatever my foot has going on.

Kim jumps in with me through mile 25. That's where the best laid plans can fall apart. I am always so grateful to have her there on Archer. She tells me the runner tracking system hasn't been working well this year. We talk in small spurts about how I feel, how the elites did (they've been finished for hours by now), funny posters we saw, and keep working our way through miles 22-25. I walk through the aid stations and any time my foot ceases up.

During this time, I continue to switch my watch back and forth between current pace and overall time. I'm checking in to see if I can still make it in under last year's time. I watch the minutes pass until I realize it's not possible. Then, for a short time, I'm mad. I should have been able to do this. Then I realize what I'm doing to myself. I'm running a marathon. I have trained for months for these 4.5 hours today. I've been looking forward to it. Now I'm spending time being mad at myself for not PR'ing? Seriously? Why do I even care that much? I flush these thoughts away and focus on the positive. I'm doing this. Every step I'm closer to done, no matter how I get there.

As we reach the final mile, Kim turns off the course and I continue north on Michigan. One more mile. I can do this. After I finish this mile, I don't have to run for awhile. There will be beer at the finish. I inch up the Roosevelt bridge until I can see the Finish line just around the corner. Suddenly I can run a bit faster until my foot hits the sensor mats.

Finished. Chicago Marathon 6.