Nikki and I registered for the Chicago Marathon in February and began officially training for it in mid-June, and now, suddenly and as though no time had passed at all, it was October and the race was upon us. Were we ready? Well, I guess we were as ready as we ever would be.
We stayed downtown the night before the race because we live rather far from the downtown area and we had no interest in beginning our commute at 5:00 a.m. No. Thank. You. The day before the race we headed to the marathon expo to pick up our race packets, then had an early pasta dinner back at the hotel. We were in bed by 9:00 because that’s how we kick it.
Last night I had a marathon anxiety dream. Nikki and I arrived at the start up site, (which was inside some kind of dry walled warehouse place), and were brought to our starting corral. The race start lines were single file, and we were led to the way way way back. Our corral was the very last one and, in addition to Nikki and me, it consisted of about five or six white-haired grannies.
My training for the Chicago Marathon is slogging forward. After a very discouraging 16-mile run, Nikki and I actually had a pretty great 18-miler. What I did psychologically was break it up into bursts of three miles; after each three-mile run we’d take a slightly longer break and maybe stretch a little bit or just regroup. And, we did this six times. It worked remarkably well, and the happiness of this run did a lot to restore my confidence. Yay!
The following week was about as erratic as our training has been in general. This lead up to our longest planned run – twenty miles. We had it planned for a Friday when the weather was supposed to be perfect: high sixties and sunny. However, the Thursday night just prior, we couldn’t resist the temptations of our back porch.
As someone who is allegedly training for a marathon that is only a month away, I am a total loser. Want proof? There is plenty of it.