The Good, The Bad, and The 20

Hello, Faithful Readers and Fellow Bloggers! I want to get right to it and let you know that I had an excellent 20 mile long run yesterday!

Prayers were answered. The Almighty once again showed his mercy to me.

And remember that tool-box from the 18 miler two weeks ago? Yeah, she was back and bitching again about how she was going to run with the 10 minute milers this week. Good riddance, that's what I say! It turns out that her knee swelled up after the 18 miler, and upon meeting with the physical therapists at Athletico, was advised not to run the Chicago Marathon. This, obviously, was not a good enough answer for her, so she sought an acupuncturist, and claimed to feel better after that.

Well, don't we, the slooooooooooooow 10:30's, come upon her around mile 5, looking dejected and stretching off to the side of the path. Karma's a bitch, right? I hope she was able to finish and not damage her leg further. If it had been me, I would have joined one of the walk-run pace groups for the 20 miler. Less damage to the joints = still being able to run the marathon in three weeks.

Anyway, back to me. I got up at 4 AM and knew I was nervous because I could barely eat my Cliff Bar. However, I soldiered on and kept getting ready. I debated for nearly an hour between just running from my apartment or waiting for the group. Obviously, I chose the group but with MAJOR trepidations. This, I think, stemmed mainly from a deep-seated desire not to embarrass myself. The past two major distance runs didn't go well, mainly for reasons beyond my control. But I couldn't help but wonder whether or not I psyched myself out for them.

Maybe I'm not cut out for the marathon?

Not the best thing to think when you're three weeks away from one, right?

We started out and I felt fine. I even managed to have an intelligent, yet polite conversation with my buddy Kristen, a.k.a. Obama Central, about the upcoming election. But I kept feeling fine. I tried my best to avoid thinking about what was to come. That long stretch of shadeless path from the North Avenue beach house to the Ohio Street beach. The deceptively lengthy route from the Lake Point Towers to the aid station before Monroe Street. Seeing the 9.5 mile marker on the path, just past Buckingham Fountain and prior to the Shedd Aquarium. Then turning around and seeing it all again, with higher temperatures and humidity. Even being more than half-way at that point is daunting. Looking at it on a map is even worse.

But I kept going. Except for the stabbing pains in my right instep and ankle, all was going seemingly well. I think the ankle pain distracted me from the humidity, which was creeping up. Even though I was doing okay, I was nervous still. I was not going to be satisfied until I finished, with my group.

Speaking of, pacer Alli was a true champion. Encouraging everyone to drink more water, reveling in the aid stations, telling jokes, and engaging in a rousing round of "would you rather..."

Eventually, we crossed back over the North Avenue bridge, perfectly on pace (take that, snotty girl!) and three-quarters of the way done. As we neared Diversey, I wondered if I'd make it. This was, after all the location where I stopped and cried during the 16 mile death march, and where I stopped to avert an asthma attack during the 18 miler, before carrying on and finishing pretty well...just slightly over my time from last year's marathon training.

But we passed Diversey, and there I was, still running with the group. Feeling strong, aside from the invisible person stabbing me in the ankle.

90% done, Barb and I kicked it up for the last half mile to run it home at a 10:00 mile pace. Holly, one of our coaches, said we looked like we still had more left in the tank, which is encouraging when you're still 6.2 miles away from finishing a race.

I really couldn't have asked for a better run, and I sooooooo needed it to be a good one. If the 20 miler had gone poorly, or I hadn't finished, I'd be beside myself the day of the marathon. I'll still be nervous, but somewhere inside, I'll know I can do it.

So, three weeks to go and it's time to start tapering. Thanks for the positive thoughts, prayers, and sacrifices of your first borns!