And yet I trained far less this year. My total mileage was down overall. Perhaps I thought I was "over-training" in 2015, but I have to believe that losing weight plays a factor. I lost about 20 pounds during the course of training in 2015, got down to about 140. This year, I lost about 10-15 pounds, and doubt I even got down to 150, more like 155. So carrying 10-15 extra pounds of weight has to be a factor.
And the other factor was the night before the race. I couldn't sleep. I took the natural sleep aid included as part of the swag bag from the Expo, and even after I had trouble passing out, I didn't take an Ambien. I don't think I took Ambien in 2015. I've been trying to wean myself off it, but certain times I just know I will have trouble sleeping and I take it, and this should have been one of those times. I slept about an hour, maybe 90 minutes, from 1:30 to 3:00. Then I couldn't fall back asleep after going to the bathroom and laid awake, anxiously hoping up to the very end to get just 15 minutes of semi-consciousness. But the alarm went off at 5 AM, and I cursed myself mercilessly and began to get ready.
I also wanted to make a total side-note here and talk about how I make excuses. And how it's bullshit when people say, "Excuses, excuses," or "stop making excuses." No, fuck you. I will make my fucking excuses on my blog and you can take them or leave them. There are perfectly valid reasons for everything I have done, and yet the result of them all is complete shit. My intentions have always been pure. I can't truly say, "but I did everything right!" But I've dramatically lowered my expectations about the sort of future I wish to have. Side-note over.
So I couldn't sleep, I didn't lose as much weight, and I didn't put in as much mileage. Also, I was on a 13-days-straight doc review project from September 18-30 in which I put in 125 hours sitting at a desk, and about 6-7 running the 606 and Lake Shore Path. I really only tapered a week before the race in 2015. This time it was more like three.
These four excuses are necessary for me to maintain the illusion that I did not just run a 4:06:18 marathon rather than a 3:57:46 because I was two years older, and experiencing signs of the inevitable decay of my body in a numerically ascertainable form.
That's the first story.
***
The second story is that I ran for charity. Because I didn't get in through the lottery, and because I can't run a 3:15 marathon (or 3:45 for women), I would have to run for charity. I looked at the available options, decided that homelessness would be my pet issue, and selected La Casa Norte. LCN is, in the words of our team leader (who graciously assisted in the editing of the sole e-mail blast, titled "This is a Marathon, Not a Sprint"), "an organization whose mission is to serve youth and families confronting homelessness by providing access to stable housing and delivering comprehensive support services."
I don't want to to get too deeply into the details of the fundraising experience--I want to get to the race--but suffice to say I could write a lot about it and will be happy to talk to anyone that would like more information on what it is like to run for a charity, and what my team experience was like.
The one thing that came out of the fundraising were the results of the aforementioned e-mail. I sent out that e-mail September 27, a little less than two weeks before the race. I had raised $500, and I needed $1,500. I started to get worried that I wouldn't make it, and that I'd be liable for the shortfall. But I sent it out and within 12 hours, I had close to $1,000. I sent a targeted message to about 140 people that I had known over the years and singled them out as special in some way to me. Only one of them wrote to ask to kindly be removed.
And several complimented me on the e-mail itself. For me, it felt like a trademark piece, a flash of the panache with which I used to write. One friend told me that I had a future in fundraising, and it got me thinking a little bit about starting a 501(c)(3). We'll see how that goes.
At the moment, my fundraising total sits at $1,434. I have until Halloween to get that last $66. I have no problem paying it myself as I have not made a donation in my own name to LCN. I would have to pay $195 to register. However, I do think I should be entitled to compensation for my efforts, in whatever form that may take.
The experience of writing thank you letters to each donor was quite special as well. Sometimes I think I went over the line and wrote ridiculous notes, such as the one to my friend Annie, which was the latest to come. It actually gives me a bit of anxiety, like, okay, now I've got to convince them that their donation was worth it. It was a challenging and educational endeavor, and though I would prefer to run without the additional stress of fundraising anxiety, it has inspired me to think more broadly about charitable work. To everyone that is reading this, and donated, thank you again for being part of this beautiful collaboration.
***
The last story is the race. To continue from the first story, I woke at 5:00 AM. I hit snooze and probably didn't get up until 5:20 or 5:30, and this put me into a stressful situation all morning, worrying that I would be late to my corral (F). If I wasn't there by 7:45, I'd have to start at the back. I ate an everything bagel with cream cheese, maybe a tiny bit of cereal, a Clif bar, and some orange juice or apple juice. I showered and changed and grabbed my really heavy gear check bag (I put way too much in it this year) and headed to the El around 6:15 or 6:30. As usual, the train ride had a special energy to it, with most of the other riders also running. I got off at Jackson, and got to Grant Park, and tried to make my way to the blue gear check. This took forever. There were a particular hold-up (that I didn't recall in 2015) at the top of the stairs near the Art Institute. This was standard procedure, and not necessarily an enhanced measure in light of the recent tragic events in Las Vegas, but memories of the Boston tragedy, and reports that the Vegas shooter had booked a room overlooking Grant Park during Lollapalooza in August, loomed at a distance.
Once I passed security, I walked, quickly, to my the blue gear check, which was very far from the start corral. I put it in (and I didn't do my tag properly, but I trusted the attendant to fix it right for me), but not before I took a swig from my Nalgene to swallow an Adderrall. I had mentioned this to my roommate the night before, and in an apparent moment of clarity, he cautioned strongly against it. I knew it was wrong then, and I know it is now, but when the option is there for me, and I think it might make things easier for me, it is hard for me to resist. Perhaps that can be excuse #5 and abstinence from that medication which I take most days anyways will improve future performance. I also had a 5 hour energy drink, which I had gotten from the Expo as a free sample--I swigged that after I got to the corral. I vaguely wanted to go to the bathroom, but the lines were too long, and it was getting late. I got a pack of Gatorade energy gummies at a kiosk for free (which I kept in my pocket, along with a few pieces of gum). I also got, and took, an energy gel there. (I had also eaten an energy bar on the El ride).
I was worried about getting to the start corral in time, but I arrived there somewhere in the 7:20's. It felt like a long wait. Our wave would go off at 8. I moved around, trying to find an interesting group to be around for the actual start, sitting down at moments, stretching a little bit (I never stretch because I am too lazy, but it definitely feels good and seems to help--at least stretching the night after the marathon dramatically helped me get into work the next day). I ended up near a team representing Brazil, because sometimes I feel more comfortable around foreigners than Americans.
The start of the race was announced, and we began moving, and I put on the start of my playlist as I crossed the starting line at roughly 8:02. I used the same playlist I used in 2015--with a few modifications. I could write out all the songs again and discuss the slight changes, but I'll leave that to your imagination this time. Suffice to say, 2015's had 72 songs, and this one had 64, and it ended when I had about a mile left to go. I had to skip ahead to hit the ending songs as I finished in 2015. Still I think this is an improved playlist and will be happy to share with anyone that is interested.
As for the actual race, the opening minutes held the same sort of excitement and exuberance that I felt in 2015. Truly, the opening of the Chicago Marathon is one of its greatest moments. The mile or so spent traversing the downtown area is easily the most exhilarating part of the race. From there, the race continues north, and even passes right by the Goethe statue!
Now I love Goethe, and I love his statue at Diversey and Canon Dr. I would often run past it as I made my way down Diversey en route to the Lake Shore Path. I noticed that very few people were standing there and I reflected that in the future, I would ask any friends to wait there for me to say hi, and then proceed to the finishing area, stopping perhaps somewhere else along the way. Instead, I saw my family a little bit later.
Now because I was running for charity, my shirt said JACK. Maybe you can see it in the horrible cell phone camera shot of a computer screen photo below of me at the finish line.
So a lot of people were shouting, "Go Jack!" Which was nice, it was, but then when my sister shouted it, it didn't register, and somehow she got my attention. She got two pictures of me--one where I was oblivious, and one where I realized it was her and turned back and waved:
I like the second one better.
Later, I saw my friend Chuck and his wife Anne, and their two twin boys. I didn't know he would be there and he didn't know I would be there. I noticed them and noticed he didn't see me and I shouted "Chuck!" and got his attention and it was kind of a hilarious and surreal moment.
Later I saw my friend Juan across from the UIC Blue Line stop. I knew he would be somewhere, but not there, and it was immediately apparent where he was and I stopped to hug him and told him to have a good day and continued on my way.
I felt good the whole way, no real problems, up through mile 18. And things didn't necessarily get bad there, but it was a turning point of sorts. I would say around mile 20 and 21 is where things got bad. You always know it's going to get bad, and I'd tell people if I could get to mile 22 before that hit, I could probably do it.
But man, was it ever bad. Pilsen is the last great moment of the course. The neighborhood gets into it. It's still fun there. But then you get to Chinatown and die. And the rest of the course after Chinatown is just brutal. It's right out in the sun, there is no kind of shade at all. And this day got hot. It got up to about 82 degrees by the time I finished around 12:08.
As for the race, I will just say that the last mile was significantly harder for me than the last mile in 2015. When I saw the last 1000 M sign, it felt like it was going to be a piece of cake. Then I went forever, and I was like, okay, that sign up there must be like, the last 500 M sign. Nope. 800 M sign. It was a very difficult ending. I became angry at the race, like they were making me feel like I was closer to the end than I really was, that they were purposefully torturing me.
I crossed the finish line and immediately said to myself that I would never do it again. I staggered around, drinking the first free beer, and several volunteers offered me assistance, which I declined. I staggered over to a photo area and got this picture taken:
The next guy to get his picture taken was telling the camerawoman about how he had just gotten the exact same time as he had gotten 16 years earlier.
This is the final picture I will post. It was taken in Chinatown. It is my favorite picture because it looks like I am blowing kisses to the crowd. If I ever do the Chicago Marathon again, I will promise many more kisses for the crowd:
I don't think I have much more to say about it except to say that it was a wild ride, and even though I told myself it was just stupid to run marathons and I would never willingly put myself through that specific, sharp pain upon completion again, found myself looking at the registration dates for 2018 (October 24).
One final note: I availed myself of the free medal engraving services at the Fleet Feet in Lincoln Square, and I would like to call attention to the quality of the engraving from this year, alongside the engraving in 2015:
To this I have to say, Fleet Feet, step up your medal engraving game, and Bank of America, leave three lines on the back again.
Also: Go Cubs!
I don't want to to get too deeply into the details of the fundraising experience--I want to get to the race--but suffice to say I could write a lot about it and will be happy to talk to anyone that would like more information on what it is like to run for a charity, and what my team experience was like.
The one thing that came out of the fundraising were the results of the aforementioned e-mail. I sent out that e-mail September 27, a little less than two weeks before the race. I had raised $500, and I needed $1,500. I started to get worried that I wouldn't make it, and that I'd be liable for the shortfall. But I sent it out and within 12 hours, I had close to $1,000. I sent a targeted message to about 140 people that I had known over the years and singled them out as special in some way to me. Only one of them wrote to ask to kindly be removed.
And several complimented me on the e-mail itself. For me, it felt like a trademark piece, a flash of the panache with which I used to write. One friend told me that I had a future in fundraising, and it got me thinking a little bit about starting a 501(c)(3). We'll see how that goes.
At the moment, my fundraising total sits at $1,434. I have until Halloween to get that last $66. I have no problem paying it myself as I have not made a donation in my own name to LCN. I would have to pay $195 to register. However, I do think I should be entitled to compensation for my efforts, in whatever form that may take.
The experience of writing thank you letters to each donor was quite special as well. Sometimes I think I went over the line and wrote ridiculous notes, such as the one to my friend Annie, which was the latest to come. It actually gives me a bit of anxiety, like, okay, now I've got to convince them that their donation was worth it. It was a challenging and educational endeavor, and though I would prefer to run without the additional stress of fundraising anxiety, it has inspired me to think more broadly about charitable work. To everyone that is reading this, and donated, thank you again for being part of this beautiful collaboration.
***
The last story is the race. To continue from the first story, I woke at 5:00 AM. I hit snooze and probably didn't get up until 5:20 or 5:30, and this put me into a stressful situation all morning, worrying that I would be late to my corral (F). If I wasn't there by 7:45, I'd have to start at the back. I ate an everything bagel with cream cheese, maybe a tiny bit of cereal, a Clif bar, and some orange juice or apple juice. I showered and changed and grabbed my really heavy gear check bag (I put way too much in it this year) and headed to the El around 6:15 or 6:30. As usual, the train ride had a special energy to it, with most of the other riders also running. I got off at Jackson, and got to Grant Park, and tried to make my way to the blue gear check. This took forever. There were a particular hold-up (that I didn't recall in 2015) at the top of the stairs near the Art Institute. This was standard procedure, and not necessarily an enhanced measure in light of the recent tragic events in Las Vegas, but memories of the Boston tragedy, and reports that the Vegas shooter had booked a room overlooking Grant Park during Lollapalooza in August, loomed at a distance.
Once I passed security, I walked, quickly, to my the blue gear check, which was very far from the start corral. I put it in (and I didn't do my tag properly, but I trusted the attendant to fix it right for me), but not before I took a swig from my Nalgene to swallow an Adderrall. I had mentioned this to my roommate the night before, and in an apparent moment of clarity, he cautioned strongly against it. I knew it was wrong then, and I know it is now, but when the option is there for me, and I think it might make things easier for me, it is hard for me to resist. Perhaps that can be excuse #5 and abstinence from that medication which I take most days anyways will improve future performance. I also had a 5 hour energy drink, which I had gotten from the Expo as a free sample--I swigged that after I got to the corral. I vaguely wanted to go to the bathroom, but the lines were too long, and it was getting late. I got a pack of Gatorade energy gummies at a kiosk for free (which I kept in my pocket, along with a few pieces of gum). I also got, and took, an energy gel there. (I had also eaten an energy bar on the El ride).
I was worried about getting to the start corral in time, but I arrived there somewhere in the 7:20's. It felt like a long wait. Our wave would go off at 8. I moved around, trying to find an interesting group to be around for the actual start, sitting down at moments, stretching a little bit (I never stretch because I am too lazy, but it definitely feels good and seems to help--at least stretching the night after the marathon dramatically helped me get into work the next day). I ended up near a team representing Brazil, because sometimes I feel more comfortable around foreigners than Americans.
The start of the race was announced, and we began moving, and I put on the start of my playlist as I crossed the starting line at roughly 8:02. I used the same playlist I used in 2015--with a few modifications. I could write out all the songs again and discuss the slight changes, but I'll leave that to your imagination this time. Suffice to say, 2015's had 72 songs, and this one had 64, and it ended when I had about a mile left to go. I had to skip ahead to hit the ending songs as I finished in 2015. Still I think this is an improved playlist and will be happy to share with anyone that is interested.
As for the actual race, the opening minutes held the same sort of excitement and exuberance that I felt in 2015. Truly, the opening of the Chicago Marathon is one of its greatest moments. The mile or so spent traversing the downtown area is easily the most exhilarating part of the race. From there, the race continues north, and even passes right by the Goethe statue!
Now I love Goethe, and I love his statue at Diversey and Canon Dr. I would often run past it as I made my way down Diversey en route to the Lake Shore Path. I noticed that very few people were standing there and I reflected that in the future, I would ask any friends to wait there for me to say hi, and then proceed to the finishing area, stopping perhaps somewhere else along the way. Instead, I saw my family a little bit later.
Now because I was running for charity, my shirt said JACK. Maybe you can see it in the horrible cell phone camera shot of a computer screen photo below of me at the finish line.
So a lot of people were shouting, "Go Jack!" Which was nice, it was, but then when my sister shouted it, it didn't register, and somehow she got my attention. She got two pictures of me--one where I was oblivious, and one where I realized it was her and turned back and waved:
Later, I saw my friend Chuck and his wife Anne, and their two twin boys. I didn't know he would be there and he didn't know I would be there. I noticed them and noticed he didn't see me and I shouted "Chuck!" and got his attention and it was kind of a hilarious and surreal moment.
Later I saw my friend Juan across from the UIC Blue Line stop. I knew he would be somewhere, but not there, and it was immediately apparent where he was and I stopped to hug him and told him to have a good day and continued on my way.
I felt good the whole way, no real problems, up through mile 18. And things didn't necessarily get bad there, but it was a turning point of sorts. I would say around mile 20 and 21 is where things got bad. You always know it's going to get bad, and I'd tell people if I could get to mile 22 before that hit, I could probably do it.
But man, was it ever bad. Pilsen is the last great moment of the course. The neighborhood gets into it. It's still fun there. But then you get to Chinatown and die. And the rest of the course after Chinatown is just brutal. It's right out in the sun, there is no kind of shade at all. And this day got hot. It got up to about 82 degrees by the time I finished around 12:08.
As for the race, I will just say that the last mile was significantly harder for me than the last mile in 2015. When I saw the last 1000 M sign, it felt like it was going to be a piece of cake. Then I went forever, and I was like, okay, that sign up there must be like, the last 500 M sign. Nope. 800 M sign. It was a very difficult ending. I became angry at the race, like they were making me feel like I was closer to the end than I really was, that they were purposefully torturing me.
I crossed the finish line and immediately said to myself that I would never do it again. I staggered around, drinking the first free beer, and several volunteers offered me assistance, which I declined. I staggered over to a photo area and got this picture taken:
This is the final picture I will post. It was taken in Chinatown. It is my favorite picture because it looks like I am blowing kisses to the crowd. If I ever do the Chicago Marathon again, I will promise many more kisses for the crowd:
One final note: I availed myself of the free medal engraving services at the Fleet Feet in Lincoln Square, and I would like to call attention to the quality of the engraving from this year, alongside the engraving in 2015:
To this I have to say, Fleet Feet, step up your medal engraving game, and Bank of America, leave three lines on the back again.
Also: Go Cubs!
3 comments:
It seems that every law graduate complains about how they did everything right and then they stick in law. If everything was done right, and if life has not changed, why not change it. Let me tell you, once I left law, everything quickly became right. And, that story is one that I have seen and read about time and time again.
While I thank you for your comment, I lament that my side-note meant more to you than the rest of the piece. It did not have anything to do with the law. I specifically wrote that I "did [not] do everything right."
This piece is about excuses for a weaker race performance. It is not about excuses for a weaker life performance (moreover, leaving the law will not erase my debt). I didn't intend to complain in this post, I meant to inspire and inform. I hope you found it more enjoyable than concerning.
Jack! I was so delighted by your thank you that I shared it with a friend... especially the poignance of your memory from GSP orientation and thoughts on life’s unknown trajectories. I agree that fundraising can add a layer that feels different and somehow less pure than training (even though we typically do that for multiple reasons as well), but I agree with the person that observed the strength of the letter — your authenticity was well used.
Yes, I’m in Baltimore and would love to connect when you’re in DC- let me know!
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