Disappointment and the reality of the situation...

15.6 mi.

2 hours 16 minutes
10:30 am
low 70s

So this weekend I was supposed to get into 18 mile territory, taking me to the 2/3 mark. I was unsuccessful. My plan was to run down the lake--for the hydration benefits that route offers--all the way around Soldier Field and back. This would constitute just over 18 miles, but it was just not to be.

It all started out ok. The weather was phenomenal: cool, gently breezy, sunny. I felt good running. I felt relatively well-hydrated. I had a Clif bar for nourishment that would take me into almost 3 hours of running. I had a half leftover veggie burger a few hours before the start, as I didn't want a full belly going in.

To make a long story short, I got all the way down to Buckingham fountain on the lake trail. I could see the Field Museum, and behind it Soldier Field, and I thought, "ya know, it's gonna take another 45 minutes to run around that thing." So I pulled up, finished what was left of my Clif bar, and headed back. I wasn't overly tired, but I knew that I didn't really want to run any further. I guess I was bored, maybe just eager to get back home. So I went. And that's when the mental and physical game really began.

I haven't really had to deal with mental exhaustion since pretty early on in my training. I think it was about 7 or 8 miles (a distance that is laughably short to me now) when I was really unsure if I'd be able to run it without injury, after feeling some pain in my hip. The distance started itching at a part in my head I can't reach and psyched me out. The same thing happened on the way back. My gait felt good and the legs were tired, but not in real pain. But by the time I hit Oak Street Beach on the way back, my upper abdominals and diaphragm were starting to spasm, making breathing really hard. One of a human being's most primal urges is for the draw of breath, and we tend to panic pretty universally when we can't do this. I recognized that it was getting harder, understood the panic, and tried to put it out of my mind and keep running.

By the time I hit Irving Park on the way back, I had told myself "20 more minutes and you're home. Just run it out." I stopped at Broadway and Montrose at a light about 15 minutes later and put my hands on my knees, panting and groaning, my diaphragm unable to open my lungs enough for sufficient breath. As I leaned over, I suddenly got light-headed. I stood up immediately and got my legs going, and ran as steadily as I could till home.

After dealing with the serious dehydration and malnourishment I had just put myself through, losing about 7 pounds in water over the course of 2 hours (I weighed myself this time), the chills and some nausea mixed in with total physical and mental burnout followed.

But I was more disappointed that I hadn't gone past that stinking fountain.

I remember swimming in Buckingham Fountain after a World Cup game in '94 when I was 12 with my dad. Probably 200 Bolivians and Germans were climbing on and swimming in it. I thought it was funny, but he was adamant that this was a once in a lifetime celebratory act. No way would CPD allow people to swim in this sacred Chicago landmark en masse unless they were volatile foreign football hooligans. I'll never forget that day.

Now I'll have new view of the fountain. A more solemn one that reminds me how close to Soldier Field it is, and how I missed out on a goal that I hurt myself trying to get. Had I just spent the extra (probably) 25 minutes or so and run past the fountain, I'd have finished 18 miles. Sure, I'd be in pain, but I was already hurting pretty bad. And I don't think another 25 minutes worth of pain would've killed me. What doesn't kill you, when you're working on muscle strength and endurance, literally makes you stronger.

So, kids, the lessons learned today are as follows:
1.) Pain is transient, and must only be respected as such.
2.) I will run 18 miles if it kills me.
3.) Bathing in Buckingham Fountain is very fun, and highly recommended.


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Back in the flow...

8.0 miles

8:30 pm
1 hour 8 min.
Low 70's, consistently drizzling

I got back into training pace tonight with a decent-speed 8 miles. It was another great evening for running: cool and dry. I expect they'll continue like this for a while. Summer is drawing up for Fall and you feel it most in the evenings.

It drizzled throughout the entire time, which conveniently kept me hydrated; or rather it kept me from sweating too much and becomming dehydrated. And it wasn't one of those rains that kicks you into gear like you're amping up for the big game, it was a constant drizzle. As opposed to a driving rain, it was a jogging drizzle, if you will (and you will). It kept people largely off the streets and lakeshore, so the lakeshore path was almost entirely empty, which is exactly how I like it.

I felt really good after the run and continued feeling good all night at work. I feel like I'm over my little break. Next run is for distance.

18 miles, here I come.


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A few weeks off was a bad idea...

4.0 mi.

35 minutes
Upper 70s


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After my hiatus from training for a marathon only a little over a month from race date, and subsequent training restart a few days ago, the muscle stiffness had set in pretty deep. Once you've been running for about 3-5 hours a week for a few months, the muscles get used to the abuse. I was amazed at how quickly that went away. Two days after what seemed like an easy-ish 6 miles, it felt suddenly like I had run a tough 15 with no stretching.

It pained me to think of running, but that's life as an idiot who signed up for a marathon.

I recently rewatched a thriller from 1978 with Dustin Hoffman, Laurence Olivier, and the guy from Jaws, called "Marathon Man." I originally saw the last part of it when I had mono in high school and watched anything and everthing on TV. I wanted to see if it would be as interesting to someone who didn't have mono, but was running a marathon. Turns out it has surprisingly little to do with running except that Dustin Hoffman runs away from the bad guys, and it's not really interesting unless you're too tired to change the channel. But there's an early scene where Dustin's trying to get a girl and chases after her (running) and tells her he twisted his ankle but isn't limping because "when you race for 26 miles you don't give into pain." I took inspiration from this asinine movie, and I ran. So I thank Dustin Hoffman today.

Here's the trailer, and in case you were wondering: yes, I do run shirtless and in pajama pants. It helps me draw more inspiration from the character. And I think on race day, I'll imagine I'm running from a safety-crazed torturing Nazi dentist Laurence Olivier.