Chicago Marathon Part 2: The Show, The After Party, The Hotel

(Thanks C-Do for help with the title.  Had a Jodeci flashback while getting this together :)).

DISCLAIMER: This post will have profanity it in and I’m spelling out all the words. None of them will be replaced with symbols. Ok? Ok. Carry on…

THE SHOW

Part 1 ended with me in the M start corral with the 5:45 pace team.  Wave 2 started at 8:00 and at 8:00 on the dot we started inching towards the start.  I was towards the back but it was still pretty crowded back there.  At 8:22 we finally crossed the timing pad, pressed the start buttons on our Garmins, and were off.  The 5:45 pace team had a few different pacers.  One was running 5:1 intervals, one was running 2:1 intervals, and the other…I’m not sure what she was doing.  So I’m following along one lady, not knowing which intervals she’s doing and then I see the other pacer stop for their walk break.  Ok…That must be the 2:1 group-let me make my way over there.  So I did.

The first mile went by fast. 12:38.  Too fast. This group was supposed to be keeping a 13:10 pace.  Second mile 12:00.  Again too fast.  But the pacer knew it. I heard her say “We’re going too fast. Gotta slow down”.  And she did.  Mile 3 was around 14 minutes. Mile 4 was 13:08. Mile 5 was 13:01.  Got to the 10k split and was feeling great.  1:21 time; 13:02. pace.  Cool. She’s in the groove and was doing a great job so far with keeping the pace.  And I realized that I love and adore 2:1 intervals.  I trained with 2:1 and 1:1 intervals.  But for the moment, the 2:1 as my warm up was great.  I kept up with that group until around mile 10 when I slowed up to get ready for my snack time.  I had my own game plan for my breaks and walks and refueling.  But because of that pace group, I started out fabulous.   I had my snack (watermelon sport beans) and kept on.

I was really excited to see my name! LOL

Next mental goal: Reach the half way mark in 3 hours.  I was on pace for that.  I continued with my 2:1 intervals (thanks Gymboss for all those beeps!).  As I was approaching the 13 mile marker I had a thought. “This mess ain’t all flat.”  There were a few minor inclines. Nothing like the mountains of Atlanta, but definitely a few little itty bitty hills to maneuver.  One of which was leading up to 13.  I get to the half way point in 3:01.  Only 1 minute over what my goal was and I was happy with my  progress.  At this point I’m in my groove. I’m feeling GREAT. I’m happy. I’m enjoying the course. I’m not moving too fast or too slow.  Things are lovely. I’m smiling at the spectators. I’m giving high fives and waving at people.  The crowd seems to really enjoy cheering. I mean folks are jumping up and down and screaming like their life depended on it.  That kind of enthusiasm is great and honestly I’ve never seen race spectators quite that happy.  Made me wonder if they were high or drunk.  But it was too cold and too early to be either of those so…*shrug…I accepted it for what it was and kept running. LOL.  I get to mile 14 and life is still good.  I smell the roses and see the sunshine.  I’m listening to Lil Wayne’s Blunt Blowin (polo draws showin; I don’t give a lovely mutha…  look up the rest of the lyrics).  And then…

THIS SHIT TURNS UGLY!

I felt a muscle in the back of left thigh tighten up. I keep running because I’m in one of my intervals.  It tightens up even tighter.  I kept running until Gymboss beeped and then stopped for my walk break.  The muscle decided to have a symphony back there because other surround muscles start singing.  I stopped to stretch it out.  Lord help me it cramped up so bad I screamed. Outloud.  Wanna know what I screamed?  “AGHHH SHIIIT!!!”  There was a kid on the corner who looked at me like “That lady said a bad word”.  A volunteer asked if I was ok.  I said yes, drank some gatorade from my camelbak, and kept going.  I’m moving a little slower but still below the course pace. I get to 15. Time for another snack.  Text the twin. Read a few other messages. Stretched some because the cramp is STILL there and get up to keep going.

From 15 to 16 was a long way.  I was happy to see the 16 mile marker.  I knew then that I only had 10 more to go.  At that point the cramp in my thigh had set up residence, got the cable and phone hooked up, and was now receiving mail.  It hurt. I had to stop again. By this time I was getting a bit frustrated.  Anybody ever ran with an unexpected cramp?  Yea? How did it feel?  The stretches weren’t helping.  I wanted to finish. But I did not want to leave injured.  I did not want to leave in an ambulance.  Dude had said to me “Don’t call me Sunday afternoon from Chicago General Hospital”.  Ughhh….That was the thought that I had as I sat on the sidewalk beside the 16 mile marker sign…feeling kinda sad…and hurting a little too.  But I got up and kept moving.

10 more miles to go. I tried to visualize my last 10 mile run and how good I felt during that run. The only thing that did was make me more frustrated.  My Garmin was still beeping every minute and that was getting on my nerves so I turned it off.  I thought about the twin’s favorite line “This was a bad idea.  A fuckin bad idea.  Why in the hell am I still moving. This shit is fuckin ridiculous”.  These are not positive, Peter Pan happy thoughts that anybody should have when they still have 10 more miles to go.  I decide to just take things 1 mile at a time.  I wasn’t dying…yet.  I get to 18. 18.1. 18.2. 18.3. 18.4. 18.5. And then…

BAM!!!!

THE GOT-DAMN WALL!

My first thought was “FB post.”  So I gave everyone an update.  “The F’n wall is REAL”. And it is.  Words can’t describe what I felt like.  My body was moving but I have no idea how. My mind was all over the place.  People around were still cheering but I wasn’t hearing them.  I saw a runner transport vehicle and briefly contemplated hopping in.  Then I thought “Suck it up! You got yourself into this shit. You’ll get yourself out of it!”  It wasn’t until I got to 20 that I snapped out of that trance.  Honestly…I have no clue what I saw or did between 18.5 and the 20 mile marker.  I don’t remember seeing the 19 mile marker either.  Next thing I know I’m at 20 and I have some kind of epiphany.

ONLY 6.2 TO GO.

By this time I feel like I’m dying. My leg still hurts. I’m tired. I’m frustrated. I’m not going to make my goal time. Damnit.  I keep seeing runner transport vehicles.  I’m having to play mind games with myself.  But I get a burst of energy.  Didn’t do much good because I couldn’t move really fast; but this burst did keep me moving. I decided I needed upbeat music.  Regular JDBL readers should already know Don Omar’s “Danza Kuduro” keeps my feet in motion.  It stayed on repeat for 30 minutes.

Between 20 and 22 was amusing.  The people that I was around provided for great course entertainment and ah-ha moments.  One lady said “I’m never doing this again”.  One said “I love Chinatown. I’m Chinese!”. (That was funny).  There was a disability runner on the course. He had on a singlet that said “My first 26.2” on the back.  He had some kind of defect with his legs. His pacer/coach/friend stayed with him off and on. But no matter how fast or slow, he kept moving.  Every time I saw him I’d think “You just have a cramp that will go away. He has a defect that won’t. Keep going.”

There was an aid station right after mile 22. I had walked through every aid station/water stop and drank Gatorade.  Hadn’t had any water. Just Gatorade. So I wasn’t having any hydration issues.  At this 22 mile aid station I decided to take a cup of water.  I take one sip. It taste funny.  My thought “Shit! It taste weird.” So I toss the cup and keep moving.  Then about 2 minutes later I feel nauseated.

…sigh… Really? A leg cramp that’s slowed me down and now nausea? And I still have 4 more got-damn miles. Really? This is a muthafuckin colossal joke!!!! Why the hell did I take that water?!!! Aghhh!!! I contemplated crying.  That wouldn’t have done me any bit of good.  So I do the next logical thing…I pull out my phone and send a text message.  It was a 1 word message. “SICK.”  When I got to 23 I stopped again.  My leg felt…hell…I don’t know what the fuck it felt like. That shit was hurting. And on top of that I’m trying not to vomit.  I didn’t.  I look up and what do I see…THE PACER CAR! Another “Are you fuckin kidding me?!!” moment.  So I get up and keep moving.  I manage to stay in front of the car for another mile or so.  Get to 24.  2.2 more miles! Yes.  I’m so ready for this crap to be over.  I try to run a little. Bad idea.  I let the pacer car pass me.  I only had 2 more miles to go. I couldn’t stop.  I’d done too much to stop.  I convinced myself that the pain and frustration would all be worth it when I cross the finish line and get my medal.  Save my energy so I can run those last 0.2 miles through the chute to the big finale!! I was fine as long as I could see the lights on the pacer car.

25 mile marker.  The spectators are few. The aid stations are still stocked but they’re breaking things down.

25.2 mile marker. 1 more mile to go. Keep moving

26 mile marker.  OH MY GOODNESS!…A HILL! I laughed.  And managed to run the last 0.2  There were bleachers on the side of the finish chute.  Not very many people at all. Only a handful.  I hear my name and look over to the right and see the beautiful, smiling face of Natalie Miles Reed. Oh it was soooooo good to FINALLY see somebody I know.  I managed to smile and pose for her to take a picture right before I crossed over the finish line timing mat.

I FINISHED!!! I FINISHED 26 POINT 2 RIDICULOUS MILES! OMG I was so happy to be done.

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THE AFTER PARTY

The wonderful part about completing your first big race is that moment that you cross the finish line, they put that medal around your neck, and you get to celebrate with family, friends, and loved ones.  Yea. I gots none of that.

I’m staggering through the finishers chute looking for where we go to get the medals.  I hear a volunteer say something about mail.  Turn around to catch the tail end of a conversation about no medals.

WHAT THE FUCK?!!!

I looked at that poor girl and said “You mean I did all this shit and I’m leaving with the same goddamn bag I came here with and that’s it?”  She looked scared. And I remembered that she’s just a volunteer, not the RD. So I walked away.  Someone offered me one of those foil sheets.  What the hell I want that for? I ain’t cold.  Some guy asked if I wanted my picture taken.  I shook my head No and walked by him.

I’m looking around for people I know….

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^^All that space up there….That’s me still looking for people I know

I needed a hug.  The volunteers weren’t even giving out hugs. They were too busy people telling people “Sorry. No medal for you even though you just tortured yourself and thought you were gonna get one.”  Ok…they weren’t really saying that; but you get my point.

I make my way over to the gear check tent to get my bag.

I lay on the grass and stretch for a minute.

Another girl was a few feet over also laying down stretching.  And crying.  I asked was she ok.  She said yes. She just wanted her medal.  I said me too. Thought about crying along with her but what good would that do. It wouldn’t change how I was feeling in that moment.  And we would just look like 2 crazy ass women laying in the grass crying.

So I sat there for a few…looking around…thinking “I wish the MG’s were here. The short one would say something funny. The tall one would hug me. The light skin one would say lets go get a drink.”  I knew I took a minute to finish.  Finishing alone is….  Finishing alone and not getting a medal is…. I’ma let y’all fill in the blanks on those.

So I dust myself off and manage to stand up.  I see a sign for the Post Race Party. I have no idea what time it actually is and I’ll be damned if I walk over there and noone is there.  So I began the lonely walk to the subway.  I was still wearing my bib so I got plenty of “congratulations” from strangers as I walked by.  Little did they know I’m trying to NOT cry on this walk because I didn’t want to look like the crazy girl crying as she’s walking up the street.  I just wanted to go to my hotel room.

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THE HOTEL

I got back to my hotel room and plugged up my phone and saw all of the text messages from supporters back in Atlanta that made me smile.  But I’m going to be completely honest…

That was by far THE most disappointing finish line experience…in life…ever. I didn’t want to smile.

I was angry as hell. For various reasons.  Obvious one…I got no medal.  On my walk to and from the subway and while I was on the train, I’m surrounded by people with medals.  And I have…my string bag and an empty gatorade bottle.  I crawl under the covers and finally get to cry.  My leg had stopped hurting long enough for me to make it back to the room. But then it cramped up all over again.  I ate a banana and stretched.  It felt a little better. I called Dude. Talked to him for about 2 minutes. Got off the phone with him because my voice was shaky and I knew that there was no way he was going to understand any of what I was feeling.  And I didn’t want to cry again because my head was starting to hurt. So I text Twin. She always knows what to say. And of course…Her reply back to my angry rant made me laugh.  I called my mom.  She heard the disappointment in my voice.  But she knew not to ask a million questions.  I talked to kid.  All he was concerned about was what was I going to eat and if I got spaghetti would I save him some.  That made me laugh.  People were calling but I did not want to talk. Voicemail.

So the recovery process began. I laid around in my tights. Stretched. Used The Stick. Logged on to FB to let folks know that I did finish and I was alive.  I was still feeling like Queen Bitch but didn’t want it to come across in my posts.

All I could think was “This is not how the end of my first marathon should feel. I should be happy. Instead…I’m not.”

People kept sending congratulatory messages. And I did sincerely appreciate all of the kind words. But at the same time I kinda didn’t want to keep hearing (reading) it. I know that may sound horrible but hell…it’s the truth. I was in a funk. My goal time was shot to shit.  The 2nd half of that race was horrible for me. Yea I finished.  Rah-Rah Shish Boom Bah.  It sucked.  It was my worst race ever. And did I mention that I didn’t get a medal and had the most dismal finish line experience ever…in life.  Completely sucked monkey balls.

The back of the pack is a different race all together.  There are real stories back there.  Couples walking hand in hand so they can say “we did this together.”  Disabled runners.  Elderly ladies with big white hair saying “Come on honey!”. Chinese ladies happy to be Chinese and in Chinatown (that still makes me laugh).  People running in memory of a loved one…I met a girl whose mother passed away from breast cancer last year.  She was not a runner at all. Her mother was so she was running for her. The back of the pack can also be extremely lonely.  Yes I trained solo…because that’s what fits my schedule best.  But I still  like course support.  The cheers became sporadic towards the end.  I saw no familiar faces anywhere between the start line and 26.1.  I really was beyond elated to see Natalie right by the finish line.  She smiled. I managed to smile back and wave.  She has no idea how grateful I am that she was there at that moment.

It was a lonely finish.  A feeling that I never want to experience again.

And now…I gotta wait to get my damn medal in the mail!!

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But wait…I got more to say. 🙂  Look out for Part 3:  Farewell Chicago…