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Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon — October 2nd, 2011

When people ask me where I’m from, I have a few answers. I was born in a small town, Escanaba, in the upper peninsula of Michigan. I grew up in the suburbs of Milwaukee, WI. When I go “home” these days, it’s usually to Chicago where my parents currently live. Apart from being quintessentially midwestern, the thing all these places have in common is Lake Michigan. And I sure do love the lake. A good percentage of my happiest memories took place near it, whether playing on the beach at my family’s cottage on a bay, flying kites along the rocky shore, or enjoying the Christmas storefronts in the city streets just a few blocks from the water.

So, when the idea to run a marathon along Lake Michigan came up while visiting with my best friend, Jacque, from high school, I was all about it. The opportunity to achieve something so great next to one of the most important people in my life in my home was something I couldn’t pass up. We signed up and  searched for training plans to follow together, despite me living in Colorado and her in New York. And then we began running. And running. And running some more. I hit almost all of my long runs, except for a couple mid-range, mid-plan runs when my shin splints were acting up and a 20-miler that turned into two 10-milers over a 24-hour period.

I know I didn’t write much about it, but I loved training. Hated it too, of course, because what kind of insane person loves running 18 miles in 90-degree heat? But I loved the feeling of accomplishment each run gave me. I loved feeling like each step was bringing me closer to my goal. I loved gaining the belief that I really would finish a marathon. After not matching for residency last winter, it sure was nice feeling as though I was in control of attaining a goal I had for myself and crossing that finish line. I also loved the reactions I got when I told people I was training for 26.2: the bewilderment, the shared experiences, the awe, the “Do they still make you run 26 miles for those things?” kind of questions.

someecards.com - Best of luck finishing a marathon that doesn't involve episodes of Law & Order

They most certainly do, in case you were wondering.

After all that training, I found myself standing next to my oldest friend, who I met at the rice bin in kindergarten, at the start line of the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon. It was cool and breezy with perfect blue, sunny skies. We could not have asked for better race weather. Bart Yasso gave us a pre-run pep talk, and Jacque and I kept saying, “Is this really happening? Are we really running a marathon?”

The gun went off, and we were really running a marathon. I choked back tears and waved to all the spectators at the start line. So much enthusiasm from complete strangers!

And then, I was on the ground. Three minutes in. My left foot hit a pothole and my ankle rolled as I fell down. (PS: I also fell and rolled my ankle during my first half marathon.) I got up immediately and nodded my head as a good 20 people asked if I was okay. Thanks to the adrenaline pumping through my body, it was tough for me to tell if I really was okay. I tried to look down to check out my knees but I was too afraid of stopping and never starting again. So I just kept running.

At mile 4, Jacque and I stopped at a restroom. I was going to need to stop eventually, but walking at this point was rough because it quickly became apparent that my ankle wasn’t in the greatest shape. Oh, and I had blood dripping down my leg from my skinned knee. Starting to run again after this stop was rough, but we got to it.

As we got close to mile 6, I told Jacque that I was going to need to walk as my ankle was throbbing and I was concerned it was going to get to the point where I couldn’t finish the race. She said, “But I don’t want to leave you!” which was, certainly, a low point for me. I did not want to run the race without her, but I wasn’t sure I would be able to finish if I didn’t take it at my own pace. So, a few minutes after we passed mile 6 and surrounded by good ole Wisconsin corn, I bid Jacque farewell.

Apart from my ankle hurting, I felt great for the next several miles. My parents and brother were waiting for me at mile 11, and it made me so happy to see them. My mother, admittedly, seemed horrified when she saw my knee but she mustered up some cheering and words of encouragement. There were also spectators all along the course who chanted, rang cowbells, danced the polka, and held funny signs. I cheered “Go Pack Go!” and “Fear the Beer!” every time I saw a spectator dressed in Packers or Brewers gear. I was glad my race bid had my name on it as it was awesome having people cheer for me by name.

Just before the halfway point, the course rounded a bend, and there it was: Lake Michigan. One of the volunteers yelled to me, “Don’t forget to take in the view!” and I definitely, definitely shed a few tears at the sight in front of me. The sky was still perfect, clear blue and sunny, and the sun was reflecting off the water. At risk of sounding melodramatic, it was a moment that made all of it—all the hours of training, the pain I was in, the many more miles in front of me—worth it.

I remember thinking that I felt ah-mazing at the halfway point. I let out a cheer and high-fived several spectators when I hit 13.1. I think this might have been the first time I actually felt runner’s high.

Things started to get rough at about mile 18. Around this point, I decided to walk again to give my ankle a rest, and my legs tightened up. It was a struggle to get running again, and I started doing some run/walk intervals. Looking back, this might not have been the smartest idea, but I wasn’t sure how to handle what I was experiencing. My ankle felt like it might break in two when I was running, but my legs tightened up the moment I slowed down. I saw my family again at mile 20 and told them that there was no way in hell I was going to do anything other than finish but that it might take me awhile.

Mile 21 was the lowest point. My stomach started acting up, and five miles seemed like the longest distance imaginable. And then suddenly, I heard a familiar voice shouting my name. One of my friends who wasn’t running the race was in the crowd, and she came to run by my side for awhile. I told her how awful I was feeling, and she just kept saying that she was proud of me and that I was so close to the finish and that I had a lot of people waiting to see me cross the finish line. I perked up a lot after that, and I’m so thankful she was there for me at that moment.

I had been looking forward the mile 24 for weeks. At this point on the course, I was running in Milwaukee proper, and the skyline was just in front of me. (I’m warning you, this is about to get real cheesy.) That awful-but-I-love-it song, This City by Patrick Stump came on my iPod, and it felt incredibly fitting as I was, you know, running through my city. And I love it. I got choked up as I picked out the US Bank Center, the East Wisconsin Building, and the Milwaukee Museum of Art. Perhaps not quite as famous as the buildings in that city just to the south, but so pointed that morning. It hit me that this was really happening and that my first marathon was about to be finished and that I had made it.


(source)

When I hit mile 26, I took off. Pain and exhaustion, be damned. I saw my family and Jacque with hers just before the finish line and gave my little brother a high five. I kept saying, “Thank you! Thank you!” to everyone’s cheers of encouragement as I ran the last tenth of a mile down the chute.


And then, I was a marathoner.

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  1. losingweightinthecity reblogged this from spoonfulofvigor
  2. chiccritique said: Congratulations! -and what a great synopsis of Milwaukee, your city, and mine!
  3. allisonerin said: fantastic!! good for you!!
  4. 94monkeys said: congratulations!!!
  5. shortmom said: YESSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! So glad you made it through with such a serious hiccup at the start!! So so so so so so so SO SO SO SOOOOO PROUD OF YOU!!!!!!!!
  6. spoonfulofvigor posted this

 

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