The story of my first marathon

I've had a couple of people ask how my first marathon went and instead of telling the same story 15 times, I figure I can just post it....I am a smart man.

Anyway, upon deciding to run a marathon last winter, I set out to train for (what I expected would be) the most intense experience of my life. I read many different training programs and decided an 18 week training program. I wanted to have enough time to slowly build up mileage, but also, I didn'y want to train too long and wear my body out. Some training programs last 26 weeks and I think that would just wear my body down too much. I started training sometime in June for the LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon on October 22.

My training went well and I did everything I needed to do and everything I set out to do during my training. I did short runs on Tuesdays and Thursdays (no longer than 5 mjles), middle-distance runs on Wednesdays (no longer than 10 miles), and my long run on Saturdays. I started at 3 miles for all of my short runs and my first long run was 7 miles. I slowly increased those distances weekly over the 18 week training period. I also lifted weights Tuesday and Thursday and did speed workouts on Tuesdays. I maxed out at 22 miles for my long run 4 weeks before the race and I felt OK doing it. I stopped and stretched and walked a little bit during the run but overall, I felt ready to run 26.2 miles. I came into the race really nervous and really scared. Its always emotional when you work so hard for so long and it all comes down to one final day and you know it could be hit-or-miss.

We (my mom, dad, brother JJ, friend Courtney, and my friend Jack, who was also running- eventhough he had done very little training) arrived in Chicago on Friday and I was getting more and more nauseous with each hour...I started doubting myself and just making myself sick. Friday and Saturday went by and I set my alarm and got up at 4AM Sunday morning to get ready for the race. I went to bed around 11PM and fell asleep around 12AM, woke up at 1:30 and kinda drifted in and out of sleep every 10-15 minutes until my phone alarm went off. We made it to the starting line around 6:30 (the race started at 8) and IT WAS COLD!!! It was 43 degrees, but with the wind chill, it felt like 33. I had shorts and a long sleeve shirt. I thought about running in long pants but EVERYTHING I read beforehand said NEVER to change up your routine on the day of the race. I had not run in anything but shorts throughout my training so I wan't going to change now....right? I also figured that after a couple of miles, I'd warm up and be fine.

Jack and I decided that since I had done all the training (and he had done so little training due to injury) that he would run as far as he could with me and then I'd leave him and go on by myself. Please remember this point cuz it comes back to haunt me later. Anyway, as we made our way into the starting crowd, I felt really good. Really confident and excited to make good on 18 weeks of hard work. so, the race starts and we get goin...I'm feeling good and Jack is keeping up through the first 6 miles. Around then he decides to stop and walk a bit and I figure I'll stop and walk with him. We did this off and on, sometimes just stopping altogether for a minute or so until mile 13. We did the first half in 2:13, which was great! I was feeling a little sore but nothing I hadn't already felt during the training. Jack was kinda hurting as he just had neck surgery. We saw my parents and rested for a minute or so and then got going. Jack was fading around mile 14 and I was ready to get going. He told me just to go on and he'd see me at the finish line. I decided that I'd stick with him a little while longer....I just felt bad leaving a friend out on the course all alone as I just ran off. I stayed with him until mile 16 when he just told me to go and I did! I took off feeling excited about the first half and knowing I was feeling good! What I didn't think about was how all the starting and stopping, running and walking, warming up and cooling down would effect my legs in this cold weather. At mile 16, the cramps set in. They were unlike any cramps I have ever had....they weren't the kind you get, you rub, you stretch, so they go away.....these bad boys stayed!!!

First, my hamstrings went, then my quads, then my calves, then the arches in my feet, and finally, my big toe!! It was the worst pain I have ever felt and it would not go away. I ran the final 10 miles in severe pain. The cramps never went away. My brother JJ ran with me for about 100 yards before he got too tired (na, just kidding, he dropped his camera). My friend Courtney took over and ran the last 5 miles with me. She walked with me when I needed to walk, stopped when I needed a break, and jogged when I wanted to jog. I think she could tell how much pain I was in....running 10 miles in a full-lower-body cramp had made me feel nauseous, dizzy, and I was honestly close to tears most of the last 5 miles. I began seeing little red dots...I think running with the cramps had totally exhausted my body. I finished in a time of 5:04.

I felt good that I finished, but finishing so weak, knowing I didn't run the kind of race I could have (or trained for), made me feel very unfulfilled. That's when I decided to run another marathon.

SO THAT'S MY MARATHON STORY. I KNOW I'VE HEARD FIRST-MARATHON STORIES THAT WERE MUCH WORSE THAN THIS. In the end, I feel fortunate to have finished. I have my brother (who was as giddy as a little kid--which was kinda cool), Courtney (who ran with me), my parents, and the million or so screaming fans (who lined the entire course) in Chicago to thank for gettin me through. I can't wait for the next marathon...

Come along for the ride!

Thanks for reading this post today.....

SEE YA ON THE HILL!
Michael