Brave In The Attempt: The Endless "Soft Opening" of Marathon Training

Well, now that Chicago Marathon training has “officially” begun, I suppose it’s high time to start blogging. The trouble is that, much like my running habits, I prefer to stall and make excuses about why I shouldn’t. “It’s too hot. It’s too cold. It takes too long. I’m too tired. I’m not good at it.” And in my defense, I’ve got a pretty good case there—at least as far as my writing goes—since Sarah is a heck of a lot wittier and more enrapturing when it comes to blogging.

And so I put it off, and put it off, and put it off… until here we are, tumbling face first into July. There are 14 weeks until the Chicago Marathon, which by my calculations means that we need to raise about $150 each week from now until the race in order to meet our goal. Just another reason to talk myself into believing that Marathon training is “officially” underway. (If you want to get in on supporting us and the great athletes we believe in, head over to our donation page here.)

It’s a funny thing, really. Anyone who knows me knows that, during the winter months, I long for nothing more than 18-mile sunrise runs on Chicago’s Lakefront Trail. It is, after all, my second home during the long summer and early fall training months. You get to feeling more acquainted with each mile marker than with your own pillow. So every year around this time, I struggle to understand why I am so hesitant to declare Marathon Training “officially” open. Perhaps it is, in part, the unknown—though I’ve done it before, the mental games still abound. Have I built a proper fitness base in the “off-season” months? Will my weak ankle and flat feet hold up in these shoes? Am I increasing my mileage too quickly? Have I budgeted enough time in my training plan to meet my own goals and achieve the personal best I want? Am I really capable of raising $2000 on behalf of Special Olympics? And, maybe most importantly, will I do the fantastic athletes of Special Olympics Chicago justice in representing and supporting them? Before each meet or tournament, Special Olympians around the city, country, and world recite this oath: “Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”



Reppin' the SOC shirt & hat, while becoming more acquainted with mile markers than pillows.
(Also, is it just me, or... is it ironic that Coca-Cola sponsors the running path?)

 

Brave in the attempt. It speaks for itself, doesn’t it? A little extra bravery is often what I need as I jump into Marathon training. It has been modeled for me time and again by Special Olympians—my brother, his friends, complete strangers—and so I write it on my arm for each long training run, as a reminder of the courage that it takes to do things outside of our comfort zones. And of the many rewards that come as a result of approaching those challenges with bravery.



Brave In The Attempt: One Special Olympian's name for each mile I run

My personal Marathon training season has almost weekly “soft openings” that are spread out over three or more months. It doesn't happen this way on purpose, it's just that I lack bravery in declaring the season "Open." Though I run half-marathons in the winter months, my first double-digit run of meteorological spring-- usually in mid-late March-- has significance. I see it as the beginning of Marathon training. Then my first double-digit race, the Lakefront 10-Miler in mid-April (a personal best) felt like the christening of training season. After that, the Wisconsin Half Marathon in Kenoshsa on the first Saturday of May was warm and sunny—a sure sign that Marathon training was obviously here! After that, it was a quick “recovery” time,  followed by a myriad of double runs and long runs leading up to the 200-mile Ragnar Relay in early June (of which I ran 15 miles with my team of 12)—surely that race signified the beginning of Marathon training. Next, I wrote my own training schedule for the balance of weekends from now until October 11 – and somewhere back in May, Chicago Endurance Sports began their official training (though I opted not to run with them this year). Sarah started “training” somewhere in there, too, and we’ve Skyped to trade running stories. Surely, by this time, I should know that Marathon training has “officially” begun. But still, I struggle to believe it. I struggle to be brave in the attempt. That is, until this week.

On Wednesday, which just happened to be the first day of July, I ran 14 miles on the Lakefront Trail. I begrudgingly dragged myself out of bed at 4 a.m. so that I could begin my run near the Foster Avenue mile marker by 4:45. I waved politely to the officers in their squad car parked on the trail-- they knew I was there almost an hour and a half before the park opens, but they chose to look the other way. I ran, I stopped at my 2-mile marker water fountain, I saw the sun rise over Belmont Harbor, I watched open-water swimmers at Ohio Street Beach, I ran past the ferris wheel at Navy Pier... and after passing all of these familiar, sacred long-run landmarks, I arrived at my most treasured respite spot—the water fountain at mile marker 8/12, tucked away just south of the Chicago River, where the pigeons like to perch and poop because it’s like a secret haven of solitude in the city. Finally, I felt brave in the attempt.  I haven’t run this far or sipped from this water fountain since Marathon training last September. I haven’t stopped to pause my music and take it all in since the last time I was here. If that doesn’t solidify the “official” beginning of my Marathon training, I don’t know what would. So, in an effort to be brave in the attempt... here’s to the really, honest to goodness, for realzzz, "no-seriously-I'm-actually-doing-this," OFFICIAL opening of 2015 Marathon Training!

 


My water fountain, facing Navy Pier on a quiet and foggy morning.