6 Days... Welcome to my Race Week Mind!

This post is probably arriving a little bit early, but I'm in the calm before the storm right now, so I think it's the right time to write it. I'm already a bit of a nervous wreck so excuse the potential livejournal atmosphere of the post -- I just have a lot of feelings.

For the sake of transparency, I'll give one final update on my training. In my first post of this season, I mentioned that part of the reason I wanted to run another marathon was so that I could actually train properly this time. And 6 months ago I really meant that. I got the official training program that Special Olympics Chicago provides for its runners, I bought two pairs of fancy new shoes, I went to the doctor to check up on my troublesome knee -- I was ready. Then life happened. In 6 months I've had job changes, relationship changes, location changes, injuries, breakdowns, successes, and tons of everyday things that come along with being a human. I did not train the way I planned, and I know that's going to affect my time and how good I feel during and after the race.

So now it's time to reflect on my shambles of a last 6 months.

The Special Olympics motto is as follows: "Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt." Looking back at my training season, I think this is absolutely fitting. In black and white terms, I did not win this training season. I didn't manage my longest training run due to a nagging injury that I just hope I can run through on Sunday. I drank too much alcohol, got too little sleep, and chose sitting on the couch over working out on multiple occasions. And for the last few weeks I've been beating myself up about all of that. But the fact is that the race is coming whether I'm physically ready or not. And the time for physical preparation is over. So now all I can do is mentally prepare myself, and the first step is to stop bullying past me. I may not have won marathon training, but I think I was pretty brave in the attempt. I'm in a terrifying phase of my life, and this phase has just happened to coincide with my training timeframe. I absolutely do not mean to beg for pity, and it's a phase everyone goes through, but that doesn't make it less terrifying. I'm in the final phase of my education, and I'm living in a foreign country where I'm still trying to find my place even after more than 2 years. I don't have a real job, I'm up to my ears in student debt, and I don't even know what I want to be doing with my future. And that's just the "professional" side of things. If you want more details about my personal life (which I promise is equally terrifying!) we'll have to get coffee and chat sometime. These aren't excuses; I definitely take responsibility for the impact that my life choices have. Nobody forced me to leave my full-time job to move across the ocean and pursue a Masters degree in a slightly ridiculous subject. I don't always make good choices (although I do stand by my decision to move across the ocean), but I've been trying to make better choices. Better late than never, for the last month or so I've said goodbye to beer and hello to more water. That long run that I couldn't complete? I didn't finish it because even though I could have finished, I knew that it would have been a bad idea in the long run (see what I did there??); so even though my brain was screaming that I was lazy and weak, I listened to my body instead. I've always had weak hips, which messes with my knees, ankles, etc. and I've been somewhat consistent with my hip strengthening exercises. I've run up more hills in the last 6 months than I previously had in the rest of my life combined -- if you don't know how big a victory that is, see my previous post. I'm slowly learning to let other people help me when I'm feeling terrible about myself. With my sister's persistence (because I've also been slacking on the fundraising efforts) and your incredible generosity, we raised more than our minimum $2000 commitment for Special Olympics Chicago.

Brave in the attempt.

Without realizing it, that's what this training season has been about for me. It's been about dealing with life and understanding that it also takes bravery to forgive yourself for your mistakes. I know that I'll finish the marathon because although it hasn't been perfect, I'm so much physically and mentally stronger than I was when I started training. I may not have won training, but luckily the final Win is still to come. In 6 days (aahh!). And I have 26.2 miles worth of inspiring people to carry me through. The Special Olympics athletes, both those I know and those I've never met, are alone enough to do it! But I'm so lucky to have family and friends and kind strangers on top of that. The former roommate from college who donated even though we haven't talked lately. The lady on the street who wished me luck in my half marathon because she had seen me at the packet pickup. The friend who told me to just envision him already collapsed at the 10km mark when I was struggling late in the race. The guy in the Special Olympics Finland jacket whose smile lit up the supermarket. My mother, who patiently receives my race-related mail and quickly emails to make sure she does the right thing with it. I could go on all day. And that's good since it will take me about that long to get to the finish line!

So yes, as I said, my vastly unexpected training season will affect how good I feel during and after the marathon. Physically, honestly I'll probably feel like shit (excuse the language, apparently I didn't get all the swearing out in my Hills post). But mentally I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. And as both a previous marathoner and a highly trained psychologist (a Bachelors degree is "highly trained" right??) I can say with certainty that the mental aspect is the bigger challenge. I'm ready to Win, and not just for myself but for everyone who has helped me to be brave in the attempt. Bring it on!

It's all Uphill from Here

Before we get into this, let me say that it's under one month til we need to have our money raised, and we need some serious support! Here's the link to our fundraising page; we're edging into desperation and every little bit counts! And if you're in Finland and want to donate but don't want to have credit card charges, let me know and I'll be more than happy to take cash and do the conversion myself. 

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/slowmilesarebetterthannomiles/2015-bank-of-america-chicago-marathon

Seriously, an entire blog post about hills? How many feelings can I have?? Turns out a lot. Apologies in advance, this one will be a bit self-indulgent. But you're here because you want to know how it's going, right? And this is how it's going right now.

Hills are the worst, amiright? If you're in Chicago area and reading this, you may not be familiar with the word. I know they're rare and elusive, but they exist. I promise. Dictionary.com defines a hill as "a natural elevation of the earth's surface, smaller than a mountain." I define a hill as the worst natural structure ever. Running up them makes me feel like I'm one second from a heart attack. Running down them makes me feel like I am absolutely definitely going to trip and fall and smash my gorgeous face. Forget what they do to my running form and posture, that's a whole other nightmare.

I have some personal history with hills. I realize that's not a normal thing to say; I realize that it takes a frightening level of self-absorption to think that a geographical structure is somehow intentionally impacting your life. But it's just true, ok?? I worked at a summer camp for years and it had what was simply called "the big hill" which was the only real way to get from one half of the camp to the other. The cardinal rule at this camp was that you could in no way, shape, or form EVER run down the big hill. But you were certainly allowed to run up it!! One of my "favorite" games to play with complaining campers was called Run and Yell. It involved taking a huge breath and then running as far as you could up the hill while yelling. When you ran out of that one breath you had to stop running and see who could get the furthest. Now, as discussed in previous posts, I am not a gifted athlete in any way, so I have to celebrate even the lamest sports that I succeed at. And I was pretty good at Run and Yell. Although I have some suspicion that it was my yelling skill rather than my running skill that won me the game most times.

Then I moved to Finland for the first time. After living in the midwest where nothing is a hill, Finland felt like everything was a hill. My usual running route had one moderate hill in it and it took me the entire semester I was there to get used to it. Biking to university meant going up one longish hill. I complained every day about it.

When it comes to hills and running, my personal vendetta just gets worse. Training for the 2012 marathon, I knew that the Chicago Marathon route is about as flat as possible. But there's a hill at the very end -- I mean like in the last 200 meters -- and I dreaded that hill during the entire training process and the entire race leading up to it. I just hate hills. So much. Still, obviously I lived to complain about it, so was it really all that bad? YES. It was terrible.

See? Reeeeally flat. The "hill" at the end doesn't even register.

Finally we come to this training season. I'm living in Finland again, where, as you may recall, everything is a hill. Until a month ago I lived in Tampere and had found a nice route for my long runs that only had a couple of moderate hills in it. I was more or less pleased with myself and my trial and error method of finding the perfect route -- Although if you consult my roommate, boyfriend, or anyone else who asked how training was going on the same day of a run, you would probably hear a different story (here's a hint of that story: "I just hate f***ing hills SO much!!! Why is everything a hill?!").* Then I moved to Helsinki at the beginning of August. I'm living on what is technically an island; there are a lot of those around the coast of Finland. And there is one main road running through this island, with a paved path long enough to logically do my long training runs on. Or rather long enough to lead to a bigger land mass on which I can logically do my training runs. The point is, I have essentially one option of where to start and end my long runs. And wouldn't you know it: it's hilariously hilly. The running gods are playing games with me and have made it so that in my final 2 months of training I have a 2 mile stretch at the beginning and end of every run that has significantly more elevation change in those 2 miles than in the entire 26 miles of the marathon I'm training for. Seriously?!? Why? What is the purpose of this?? All I ever hear about Finland (mostly from Finns) is that there are no mountains and that it's so flat and blah blah blah. It may be true that there are no real mountains, but what it lacks in a single vertical peak it makes up for in every other surface being somehow inclined! Get on my level, Finland. I don't need this crap.**

But then I think about how if I can do long training runs on this kind of terrain, then the pancake flat Chicago streets should be no problem. I might even see a slight increase in speed there. And the final 200 meters of the marathon? I'm going to laugh in its face. Maybe I'll play a bit of Run and Yell. So whatever, hills. Be wherever you want to be. I can take it.


*It seems like an appropriate time to thank those people who put up with my bitching about this whole thing. As is obvious by this entire post, complaining is my #1 coping mechanism. But the support and encouragement I've received -- even when I've just finished a long and repetitive rant about how much hills suck and why is it so windy and I just miss the Chicago lake path -- is incredible. Especially without my sister for PIC (partner in complaining) and motivation, these beautiful people have on many occasions been my reason for putting my shoes on and just effing doing it. I can be a real asshole and I appreciate the completely undeserved love I've been shown. 

**And I apologize for anything mean I have said about Finland in this process. It's my favorite. But I have to have some drama in my life, which I think it knew that when it was forming its topography. And for that I, and my leg muscles, thank it.

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.

 

138 Days... Is It Too Early To Panic??

After I hobbled across the finish line in 2012, I swore that I was a "one and done" marathoner. The marathon did not go great for me, and I'm not sure whether the tears at the finish line were from happiness or absolute trauma. I have quite happily lived the last almost 3 years thinking that I could get away with completing one marathon, have bragging rights for life, and never tackle 26 miles again.

Then my stupid, overachieving sister ruined my plans. If you read our very first blog post you'll see that I was "running" before Becky, but it was her impetus that pushed me to actually start running races. Who knows where I would be without her silly idea 5 years ago to enter a race just because it promised to give us chocolate at the end! Obviously our priorities have always been in good order! In fact even after running countless short races, 3 halfs, and a full marathon with her, I still struggle to find the motivation to run without her. Exhibit A: in the almost 2 years since I've moved away from her I've run exactly one race by myself: a half marathon that I only entered because it meant I got to finish in the Olympic Stadium in Helsinki (again, I have my priorities, and the actual running is never one of them). Becky on the other hand has no problem running alone and has even had the audacity to run another marathon without me! Last year she smashed the Chicago Marathon again, while I cried about it from 4500 miles away. So this year when she started talking about it again I decided that I couldn't let her face it again without me. 

Helsinki City Run, 2014 (you can't see it but I'm repping my SOC shirt!)

Just kidding, she certainly doesn't need me, but I need her and I really felt like I needed to run Chicago again for a lot of reasons. First and foremost, I would do almost anything for our charity, Special Olympics. Most of you know why we love this organization so much, but quick recap: our brother David is a Special Olympics athlete and his experiences there have made him a happier, more confident and social guy. We've been enthusiastic Special Olympics cheerleaders for several years, and when both Becky and I were living in Chicago, we started to look into the Chicago branch of the organization (fun fact: Special Olympics was officially founded in Chicago in 1968!). It was perfect timing that we were considering our next running challenge around the same time, and it was an easy decision to run the marathon for Special Olympics Chicago (SOC). While we expected a good experience, our hopes were surpassed. In addition to the obvious benefits of raising money for the athletes in Chicago, the running team was well-organized and we felt supported through the whole training and race process. So of course I am incredibly excited to get back on the Special Olympics Chicago team! 

Another, more boring, reason for undertaking this insanity again is that I need some motivation and stability in my life. As you all probably know, I've been living in Finland for the last year and a half or so doing a Masters program. Until very recently I had no idea where I would be after completing my degree; I would love to stay in Finland but the job prospects here are pretty slim so I was also considering moving back home, although also without a job there! So with all the uncertainty I figured it would be nice to have something that would keep me on track in at least one aspect of my life. Nothing makes you focus more than a nice intense training program! Also, I haven't done serious running in a long time and as the weather gets warmer I miss it a lot and there's no motivation like a 26 mile run looming over you (fun fact: I am writing this post to avoid going for a run, so obviously my motivation is on point). Oh, and my 2012 marathon time was really pathetic so I'd ideally like to embarrass myself slightly less this time.

Finally, running in Chicago is one of the things I miss most about living there: everything from the views on the lake path to the feeling of waiting downtown with 40,000 other people at 8am to start the Shamrock Shuffle every year. I can't describe how special Chicago is to me (although if you ask anyone I'm sure they would agree that I never shut up about it, so it must be pretty special!) and I would do anything to be back. Apparently "anything" now includes agreeing to run a marathon... 

So buckle in for our new and improved training season 2015! We will once again be begging your generosity and support for our fundraising; if you want more information about Special Olympics or why it's worth supporting, ask either of us and we'll be happy to gush about it! And as with last time, we'll be chronicling our journey with this blog. It will be the same wit and entertaining photos and stories, only this time it's international!! Stay tuned for my observations about trying to train in a country where everything is a hill, and Becky's observations about how I complain too much about hill running (because she doesn't understand the pain...). 

If you're already sold, here's the link to our fundraising page: 
http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/slowmilesarebetterthannomiles

If you're not sold yet don't worry, we'll convince you we're worth supporting! And of course, any donation amount is SO appreciated! If you can't swing a few dollars, moral support is happily accepted as well! Encouragement and kind thoughts are a big part of what motivates us, so you can always send some of that our way!

Starting our training season a little early, in Norway last Christmas!