Month: October 2016

Those closest to me know I started getting nervous the day before I ran a race I cared way too much about to skip. The 2016 Chicago Marathon landed on another absolutely perfect, gorgeous fall day. The day before was just as gorgeous in every way… except for in my brain.

I am in shock more than I am proud of my finishing time. I know I trained for it physically but I also know I have been through more than I expected in the epilepsy department to continue to aim for my BQ. (Boston Qualifying time) Somehow, this year it motivated me even more to train  hard and race strong, given the team I was running for, the Epilepsy Foundation of Greater Chicago. Please click here to read and donate to the Epilepsy Foundation. I am still determined to reach my fundraising goal and THANK YOU to all those who donated. Every dollar counts. 

The truth is, I shouldn’t be running alone. Not after a seizure filled day. When I have several in a week, that’s a bad week. Several in one day is rare and not cool mentally or physically for the day before a marathon. I reached out to my Elmhurst Running Club friends to share my concern and was seriously touched by the quick and helpful response. The same friend who helped me during training, Ellen, suggested that I write about my health condition and medical instructions on something attached to my shirt, near my bib, so I wouldn’t have to face DQ. I admit I asked what “DQ” meant when I saw it, natural in my state of eating everything in sight. You can see the little note below my bib number in the picture where I’m high-fiving family. The note bounced on my hips for 26.2, somehow serving as a stress reliever. It was especially fun to show off when Ellen found me and ran with me for a while on the course.

This marathon thing left my parents, boyfriend John and “cousin” Roger almost as tired as the runners, waking up at 4am and spending the day on their feet. They had awesome new shirts made by friends at Viking Awards. These “Marathon Chasers” managed to track, spot and cheer for me three times! The Tarzon and Podlasek crew also deserve a special kind of medal for having three little ones down there. Knowing that loved ones wait for you at the finish line makes a crazy difference to the runners whose feet feel like they’re sinking into the pavement. Knowing you’re needed by the loved ones who can’t be there is even more inspiring.

 

Shortly after I was convinced I left a big toe on Michigan Avenue, I crossed the finish line at 3:43:40. My BQ time is 3:45:00. Rumor has it that Boston race officials may have to change the qualifying times because so many runners want to be there, so who knows what will happen come spring of 2018. Somehow it doesn’t matter to me. While this condition may beat me up, I will not let it beat me. Not on a race course, not anywhere else.

 

I wanted to run the 2016 race for 26 people who have epilepsy. I didn’t get nearly enough names, but I found a way to focus on the cause. Then there’s the last stretch – at least seven miles – where I swear someone is screaming “Who let you do this?” I always save motivating names and thoughts for this part, focused on one at a time, one mile at a time. This year, my ancient Garmin watch chose marathon morning for a glitch so I found myself wondering how far I had to go when I landed on Michigan Avenue. Afraid to have no plan for my mind, I quickly realized my mind is the last thing that gets a plan. I never would have predicted this would crack me up… and motivate me to move.

Last year, I trained until the race was six weeks away. I had to withdraw because of my health. I know I could have missed this one for the same reason, but I took myself from the fear of DQ to BQ. Walking backwards down the stairs never felt so good.

Yesterday I was inspired by a story I caught on Facebook about two guys who started a new company making socks and helping the homeless. It’s a must watch. Bombas Video.

I had trouble sleeping last night, maybe because of the race in 5 days and 18 hours (not that I’m counting), or maybe because of the giant skin abrasion on my neck (new nickname “hickey”). Or maybe, just maybe, it’s feeling bullied as a grown woman with enough problems to make Trump and Clinton look like they have it easy.

When I remembered the video on the dudes who are in business to make a difference, I started to doze.

Bees work together. That is the concept behind the company that gives back. For every pair of socks sold, they donate a pair to the homeless. I never knew that socks are the hardest to come by at homeless shelters because they can’t accept used socks. And they are critical to those who don’t drive but rather walk to their next meal. Working together to help each other is such a simple goal but one we lose sight of.

Despite not falling asleep until 11pm, I got up at 5:10am to go on a run with my girls. This 4 miler will be my longest run of the week before the big 26.2. My right calf muscle has been a bit of a jerk lately and it started feeling funky again today. I thought maybe I’m just paying more attention. Regardless, it hurt, so we walked a little and I am determined to roll this leg until the roller breaks.

Fast forward to late morning. I spent hours on the phone, as always. During that time, I spotted a giant bee inside my house. Of all days, right? I thought of an old friend – college roommate – who would have worked to get it back outside alive. But I couldn’t remember her doing so with bees (just spiders) and I couldn’t think of a way to make it happen. This was a big bee, confidently resting at the top of a tall window frame, near the thick curtains. It didn’t move around and I had to wait until I was off the phone to get a closer look. I had this nagging guilt over my goal of killing it, especially after the sock story.

I actually gave Bumbles a chance, thinking maybe it will die a natural death and I’ll sleep really well tonight. It didn’t move, I even forgot about it for a while, then finally took off my shoes, grabbed a wad of paper towels too big for my hands and headed right for the chair I needed to stand on to commit murder.

After gently pulling back the curtain, Buzzer moved a little but didn’t fly away. I felt an adrenaline rush, moved in slowly toward my target with confidence, smashed, then quickly looked at the paper towel. Much to my dismay, it was empty. My friend hit the floor, trying to figure out how to fly. My jump down to finish the job was all about karma. I chose the ballet jump, on the right leg, not thinking of my calf. I suppose a good thing that I got mad because I smashed a little harder. I was swearing about my leg and blaming my new friend.

I asked calmly while flushing, “Why? I just spread the word that you were good!” Then it hit me that I had work to do. Figure out how to really apply the help others mantra. Not with bees, clearly, but I need to be sweeter to those who are much less than that to me… and I need to be happy to be alive. And while I feel a little guilty about it, I will add more honey to my tea.

Happy Monday.