​I completed the Chicago Marathon on October 9th, and it was every bit as exhilarating, emotional, and miserable (in certain parts) that I imagined. ​​

I haven't talked about the training at all this summer, but it kept me busy from June until October. I trained with a fantastically fun group of men and women through CARA (the Chicago Area Runners Association) that kept me motivated to do consecutive 6-am runs on Saturdays. 

In conjunction with my mom, my group helped to mentally prepare me for the race. We talked often about the course and the hardest parts and how to cope with it. Many of us hung out at the expo on the Friday before the race.

Below (right to left): me and my mom posing by the Team PAWS tent; me and one of my running buddies Jodie

The weekend of the race involved an early dismissal from work on Friday to go to the expo and then getting dinner with some of my training group. On Saturday, I met my parents downtown for dinner and ended up staying at the Congress Hotel​ with my mom. Our Team PAWS group was headquartered there (along with other big charities) for the pre and post-race parties. It was also across the street from the starting corrals (it was the same place we stayed for the Rock 'N' Roll Half Marathon), and it was extremely convenient. 

My mom and I tried to go to bed as early as possible. Before that, we organized our clothes for the next day and I put on my temporary tattoos. From the expo, I got a pacing tattoo with the splits I needed to finish in 4:25 (my ultimate goal was to finish; my second goal was to finish in 4:30 or under). I also put some Team PAWS tattoos on my arms. On the back of my singlet, I wrote all of the names of the dogs in my family who were rescued from shelters or surrendered by their owners. 

​On race morning, I rolled out of bed at 5:30  and was downstairs with the PAWS folk at 6:15. The lack of a commute was glorious. Another perk of having a hotel room three floors above the pre-race party was having access to our bathroom. Since there were a lot of other charity groups in our area, the lines for the bathroom seemed to wrap around the lobby. It was great to have our own bathroom upstairs. My mom got extra kudos for letting other team members borrow our room key. 

At the Team PAWS pre-race party, there was the opportunity to take pictures in front of the PAWS backdrop, eat a continental breakfast (I just snacked on a small bag of almonds), and chat among ourselves. I was anxious about my left knee that started hurting me out of the blue on Saturday morning. It continued to hurt me as we walked to the front of the hotel to take a group photo, but I forgot all about it once we walked to the starting corrals. By the time I started running, it didn't hurt at all. 

Below: me and my mom posing before the race

For the first eight miles or so, I ran closely with three other girls from my group. I had my headphones in (which is different from our training runs where we go in 2x2 formation and don't use headphones) and was still able to chat on and off with them. I remember being stressed for the first part of the race, because our GPS devices were way off (I had the same issue with the Rock'N'Roll Half Marathon). I was worried that we were going too fast. I ideally wanted to stick to a 10 minute-mile pace. By the time we were a mile or two into the race, I was able to use the tattoo on my arm to figure out that we were indeed going faster than I wanted (based on my splits from the results, our 5k average pace was 9:38). However, I felt comfortable enough to be able to keep the pace for then. 


We went through the Loop, through Old Town, and then into Lincoln Park. The Loop was a blur, but by the time we were in Lincoln Park, I was in my groove. I was smiling and waving at spectators and moving my arms to the music. I kept my eyes peeled in Lakeview for friends and family (I missed almost everybody who came out to watch me). In Boystown (mile 8), I split off from the rest of my group and ended up running the rest of the race by myself. The music and dancers in Boystown gave me a huge burst of energy. People yelled out my name and gave Team PAWS shout outs, and it made my day. 

I was energized as I made my way back towards the Loop to the 13.1 mile-marker. My Spotify music went out somewhere around there. I pulled my phone out of my waist band to turn my music back on and found that my phone was "disabled" and would not let me unlock my phone for another five minutes (the movement from being around my waist must have triggered something; this happened at least one other time throughout the race). The good part about not listening to music for a few minutes was that I could hear my dad yell my name from the sidelines and gave me just enough time to wave and blow him a few kisses before I was back on my way. 

The West Loop took us through the Charity Row (where many charities set up tents and had cheer stations), where I saw a bunch of Team PAWS supporters cheer wildly for me (and everybody else!). With my music pumping through my ears again, I logged another three to four miles without struggle. Miles 17 and 18 took us through my old grad school stomping grounds at UIC and Taylor Street/Little Italy. I felt tired around 18 (and it didn't help that my Spotify kept going out, which meant that I had to gingerly unzip my waistband- while running- in hopes that nothing else fell out while I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, restarted my music, and then carefully put it back, over and over again), and this is where I had to start using my mind to get me through the race. I told myself, "You're not actually tired." This time, my body agreed with me. I kept going with a smile on my face. 

​We got to Pilsen, a heavily-Hispanic neighborhood, around mile 19. I've heard several times that this is one of the all-time best parts of the marathon, and I agree. The spectators were amazing. They handed out everything from Kleenex and face wipes to pastries to tequila and beer. I didn't take any food or drinks, but the face wipes were great! I hung around the sides of the course so that I could high-five spectators and fist pump in the air every time that they yelled, "GO TEAM PAWS!" or "GO JEN!". The energy of this place was contagious. 

By the time I hit mile 20, I was excited but also a little scared. In our training, the highest mileage we ever hit was 20. This was brand new territory for me, and I wasn't sure how I would handle it. I felt tired, so I told myself again that I wasn't tired. I thought it would work this time, but I swear it just made my legs feel heavier. I tried a new strategy, then. I imagined that I was starting a run from my house to Castaways at North Avenue Beach. This run is exactly six miles, and I've done it many times. Each mile after that, I could see exactly where I was on the Lakefront Path. I knew that since I could do those six miles so easily on that path, I could do it on this one. 

I hit mile 21 in China Town. Somewhere around there, I tapped another Team PAWS runner on the back and yelled, "We got this!". He gave me a thumb up, and I kept going. I found that it was getting harder to smile, so I stopped smiling and focused on my run. The crowds were heavy in the heart of China Town. At one point, I heard somebody yelling my name. I turned my head and saw one of my best friends Goda waving frantically and trying to run up to me. I crossed over to the side and gave her a huge hug and told her that I loved her and I was going to finish. She missed me in Lakeview and took the train all the way to China Town to try to catch me again, and it meant the world to me. Fortunately, it gave my tired body some juice too. 

Things started to get worse around 22. The spectators were thinner. The course took us along the side of the Dan Ryan Expressway, and it wasn't interesting. I fortunately wasn't in pain, but my legs were so, so tired. All I wanted to do was walk and then lie down. I started taking longer walking breaks during the water stops, but it was so challenging to start running again once I started walking. With my right three middle fingers, I physically counted down from three and forced myself to start running once I hit one. I wanted to smile to try to convince myself that I was actually having a good time, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I just wanted to be done. 

I hit mile 23 around the Illinois Institute of Technology. I was looking forward to this point for two reasons: one was that I knew we'd be turning onto Michigan Avenue soon (which is the final stretch) and the other was that I was three miles into my run to Castaways. In my mind, I was physically turning around and heading home. The words Go home, go home where echoing through my head, and it made me very emotional. My face started to contort into an ugly crying face as we turned onto Michigan Avenue, but I told myself to keep it together until the end. 

I also want to mention that I was doing a very good job with my time. My GPS was still wrong, but I noticed every time that I crossed a mileage marker that I was about six minutes ahead of the splits on my 4:25 tattoo. I knew that I could walk a bit and still make my goal, as long as I didn't fall apart at the end. 

My mind was like mush around mile 24, and I no longer felt like I had the strength to high-five spectators or react when they yelled my name (besides just a slow wimpy wave). Two of the girls who started out running with me caught up to me around this point. They had a lot more energy than me and stayed with me for a few minutes but eventually went ahead (they finished about two minutes ahead of me). I wanted to try to keep up and finish with them, but my legs protested. 

I felt emotional again when we got to mile 25. The crowds were several people deep by this time. For the past several years, I stood around this point (as a spectator) and waited for my mom to run by me. I often yelled her name and hugged her once she found me. A couple of times, I jumped on the course with her and stayed with her until she turned onto Roosevelt Avenue (the very end of the race). Now, I knew how it felt to be her. 

I was so focused on finishing (in my mind, I was already off of the Lakefront path and less than a mile away from my house) that I was surprised when I saw a mass of blonde hair coming for me in my peripheral vision. It was my friend Nicole who was waiting for me on the sidelines, dressed in jeans and flats. She started running with me and told me that she was going to stay on the course with me as long as she could. It was the best distraction I could have gotten. Although I complained relentlessly the whole time she was with me (telling her that I wanted to roll over and die, asking her if I was done yet, etc), she was so positive and kept me going. She had been watching my splits from the beginning and told me that most of them were a sub 10-minute-mile. I was so happy to have that confirmed. She has also run two marathons, and she knew exactly what I was experiencing. The course marshals (nicely) pointed her off of the course as I made my turn onto Roosevelt Avenue. 

Roosevelt turns into a bridge east of Michigan Avenue, and there is an incline. I've been warned about this "hill" many times. In fact, our CARA runs end on a hill to simulate this exact bridge so that we're prepared. However, as many times as I've run up that hill on my training runs, I've never done it after running 26 miles. It was hard. It was so hard, in fact, that I had to stop and walk after passing the 26-mile marker.  I told myself that walking this close to the finish line was stupid and that I should finish with a run. With every inch of stamina that I had left (which was close to none), I ran towards the finish line. En route to the end, there were signs with exactly how many meters we had left. 400, 300, and so on. I saw the grand stand to my right with people cheering, but I could hardly see straight. I could see other runners just 50 feet in front me running over a line, cheering, and stopping. Then, I was over that line. I was done. I finished. 

As soon as I was over that line, I let my guard down and cried. A guy next to me in a gray shirt heard me crying. He patted me on the shoulder and told me that I did a good job. Somebody else named Angela (I think that's what it said on her shirt) approached me and told me that she also cried after her first marathon. People were very sweet. I stumbled my way down a long procession. I grabbed water, and then I took Gatorade. Somebody handed me a medal. They put in on backwards, but I was too tired to fix it. I pulled my phone out of my waist band and saw messages coming in from my family and friends who were tracking me. I saw from my brother that my time was 4:20:11. I beat my goal by almost 10 minutes, and I was thrilled. Somewhere else, I grabbed a banana, a Mariano's bag full of recovery food, and some Powerbars. Somebody wrapped a mylar blanket around me to stop my body temperature from plummeting. I kept walking. I passed the beer station. I usually love beer, but my stomach didn't want it. 

Slowly but surely, I made my way back to the hotel. I met Goda and my husband. I rejoiced with other Team PAWS people. I think the post-race fueling re-energized me, and I was able to have a celebratory beer as I waited for my mom. My amazing mother finished her ninth marathon that day. It was an emotional embrace when she came back to the hotel. 

​My post-marathon thoughts?
It took me two days to be able to walk up stairs again, four days to be able to walk down stairs again, and only about two days before I forgot about the miserable parts of the race. As I expected, I am hooked on running. 

Future races:
Hot Chocolate 15k (Chicago, October 2016)
Disney World Marathon (Walt Disney World, January 2017)
F3 Half Marathon (Chicago, January 2017)
Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon (Oklahoma City, April 2017)
Bank of America Chicago Marathon (Chicago, 2017)

I also have my eyes set on:
Schamburg Half Marahon (November 2016), North Shore Half Marathon (June 2017), New York Marathon (November 2017) OR Marine Corps Marathon (October or November 2017)

Possible upcoming projects including turning this blog into a mother/daughter duo running blog. Wouldn't that be fun?

Stay tuned for more running adventures from The Little Jogger!

More than one month later, I completed another half marathon! I finished the Rock 'N' Roll Chicago Half Marathon last Sunday and beat my first race time by one whole minute. 

This race was even more of a family event than the last one. My mom and brother Jon run this race every year, so I was in good company. 

For convenience and companionship, I stayed with my mom at the Congress Hotel the night before the half (after chowing down at pizza and cookies at Stella Barra.......nom nom nom).  The Congress Hotel is across the street from Grant Park, where a lot of the big Chicago races start. It was a short walk to the gear check (at the PAWS tent) and the starting line, and I was grateful that my short commute allowed me to sleep in later. It was a beautiful sunrise, too!

I hung by the Team PAWS tent for some stretching, port-a-potty usage, family photos, and moral support before heading to the corrals.

​I found my favorite pace group (see previous post) and was overjoyed to find one of the same pace leaders from the North Shore Half. I was thrilled that he remembered me, too. Once I got through the excitement, I waited out in the corral for 20+ minutes (while slowly moving up towards the start of the race).

Overall, the actual race was uneventful. A lot of the course wove through the Chicago Loop, which makes underwhelming scenery (in my opinion). The mile markers were tiny, and I don't think that every mile actually  had one. Although I was using my GPS, it told me that I ran a total of 15.1 miles. I later learned that a lot of peoples' GPS signals went haywire from going through tunnels and from so many people being in a close space. Speaking of going through tunnels, when we went through McCormick Place, we were in a dark tunnel with cones in our way and very poor lighting with potholes throughout. I nearly tripped over a cone. I'm surprised I didn't hurt myself (maybe it's from the experience of so many group runs on the pothole-ridden Lakefront Path). 

I also didn't enjoy the experience of running in a pace group as much as I did in my last race. Overall, I thought that my group members wanted to be in close proximity to the group leaders and were aggressive about it. Somebody pushed me one time when I got in their way. It took away from the fun. However, when I didn't have energy gels or Gu (I'll talk about that another time) and started to feel tired around Mile 6, my group pace leader handed me one of his extra energy gels. I took his and then took another one that was handed out during the course a few miles later. (I didn't have any nutrition with me the last time, and I think that contributed to why I was so tired at the end.) These gels gave me a big boost of energy, and I broke away from the group for the last two miles. 

I finished in 2:08:55. It was my first personal record! 

As soon as I finished and was stumbling around the finisher's area looking for my medal, water, Gatorade, bananas, and chocolate milk (I only found the medal, water, and Gatorade), I felt a few drops of rain. Then, more drops. Then, one of the staff members yelled that everybody needed to find shelter ASAP because a storm was coming. I called my brother, who had already finished and was with my sister-in-law in the beer tent, to let him know that I was running back to the hotel. I made it back to the front of the hotel just in time before the downpour came. Luckily, my mom finished the race before that. We all met and congratulated each other outside of the front of the hotel, but I was pretty disappointed that the storm killed the mood at the end of the race. I was looking forward to greeting some of the people that I ran with after the race, but that wasn't a possibility since the crowd dispersed so quickly. Oh well!

I have many more half marathons to run over the next several weeks (not real races, just training runs), because marathon training is in full swing. I haven't talked about the training yet, so I'll write another post about that in the next few weeks. 

'Till next time, friends!

In 2011, I signed up to run the Rock'N'Roll Chicago Half Marathon. I was nursing a sore right leg that I somehow pulled while living in Australia. Running was agonizing for me. Anything greater than three miles was physically and emotionally excruciating. I didn't have the sheer determination to push myself harder, to keep running even when I was tired. I didn't understand that I could cross that barrier from pain to bliss. I didn't know what I was missing. I gave up and never attempted that 13.1-mile race. 

Five years later, I gave it another shot and followed through with it. Thanks to my mom's encouragement, I started and completed the North Shore Classic Half Marathon.

I kept this race on the DL (the abbreviation of "Down Low",  old slang from when I was in elementary school and was talking about being discreet), because part of me feared that I couldn't do it. I'm no longer bearing thigh pain but instead have (more or less) chronic lower back pain and temperamental knees and feet. I was in a chiropractor's office last November, barely able to walk from blowing out my lower back (from bending down to get a bottle of water), and fearing that my chiropractor would laugh in my face when I told her that I wanted to run a half marathon the  next summer. I thought my personal trainer, who later taught me about stretches and injury prevention, would do the same thing. Instead of discouraging me, they helped me to heal. I'm not close to 100% better, but I've taken everything I've learned from these past seven months (stretches, exercises, heat/cold therapies, foam rolling) and ran an injury-less half marathon even sooner than I intended!

Here is my first race recap, which I will divide into four parts: The First Mile, The Speeding Section, The Pace Group, and The Final .1 Miles. 

The First Mile
My mom and I arrived in downtown Highland Park (one of my favorite places on the North Shore!) an hour early to check our gear and to wait in line for the port-a-potties, use them, stand outside, realize that we had to go again, stand in line, and the cycle continued. I only had to use them twice (my mom probably went four times), but my bladder felt completely full again while we were waiting in our corrals. By this time, there was no time for the portable toilet. It was time to run!

I took the advice of other experienced runners who told me to start at a much slower pace and hung out by the 10:30 pace group at the beginning. My goal was to commence with them and pull ahead when I felt comfortable. At first, I was anything but comfortable. I desperately had to pee, I felt an undesirable burning sensation up and down my legs that I soon realized were muscle cramps, and I was crammed into a small space with dozens of other runners. This was a smaller race (about 2,000 runners, I believe) in a residential area, so half of the street was still open to traffic for part of it. There were traffic cones going through the center of the street to keep us to one side, but I often got pushed out on the other side from the volume of runners. For about ten seconds, I contemplated sitting down on the curb, waiting for my mom to find me, and letting her know that .5 miles was enough for me (but it was a good effort!). Then, I pushed that nonsense out of my head and kept going. 

The Speeding Section
The crowds thinned after the first mile, but I still felt like there were too many people around me. Also, I was running too slow for me. I sped out of the 10:30 group and attempted to find a steady stride. The pain in my legs subsided, I no longer had to pee (I didn't pee in my pants; I just didn't feel like I had to anymore), and I passed my first water/nuun (a flavored electrolyte powder mixed with water) station. I tried to drink the nuun while running and nearly choked. I started coughing profusely (it took me a few more times to figure out that running and drinking are not compatible), recovered and dumped the cup aside, and kept at it. 

Based on my Run Keeper app, I was at a 10-minute-mile pace. I had a new goal in mind: catch up with the 10:00 pace group. (For those who are not familiar: many races have optional pace groups designated to keeping a consistent pace and finishing at a designated time. Each group has a "pacer" or a experienced runner who is responsible for keeping that pace. For the entire race, they hold signs on poles with their pace [ex. 10:00, 10:30, etc] written on it.) I'm going to backtrack quickly to say that, as I've been increasing my mileage on my long training runs, I've been sticking to a sub 10-minute-mile pace. I did nine miles at an average of 9:29 (minute-miles), 10 miles at 9:47, 11 miles at 9:42, and 12 miles at 10:13 (it was my first humid run and I was MISERABLE). I figured that running this half marathon in 2:10 (a perfect 10-minute-mile pace) was a good goal for me. 

I could see a white pace sign ahead of me, and I knew that the 10 Group wasn't far ahead. I started to pick up speed. By now, I was about four miles into the run. When I finally caught up to the sign (they're hard to see because they're waving around), I was devastated. It was an 11-minute-mile pacer.  Was my Run Keeper app off? I was wracking my brain, trying to recall if the 10:30 group passed me and left me in the dust. What I didn't know was that the pace groups were staggered. In other words, the 11 Group that I passed was in a corral ahead of me. They just got an earlier start, and I caught up to them. Since I didn't know this at the time, I was livid. I was angry with my phone for lying to me about my running speed and wondering if this race was messing with my head. Mile 6 was my fastest (9:13), probably because I was sprinting (or so I felt) to bite onto the hind legs of the 10:30 group. I soon caught up with another pace group, but it wasn't the 10:30. It was the 10. 

The Pace Group

When I caught up with my pace group, the race changed for me. I was no longer a solo runner. I was part of a living, breathing group that suffered and triumphed together. I can't tell  you any of the names of the people in this group and I probably wouldn't recognize their faces, but I felt as though we were entwined as one single runner for the rest of this run. The pacers (there were two of them) were like coaches. Upon catching up to them, I was getting constructive feedback on my breathing (take in long breaths instead of short little ones), my stance (don't scrunch up your shoulders), the layout of the course, and how to run up and down hills.

I mention the hills, because the course was hilly. We went up and down some elevation changes that I thought were big, but when we swept past the beach (see the photo above) and rounded a corner, we may  as well have been running a half marathon in San Francisco. The hill felt that steep. We were already more than six miles into the race with tired legs, and this was brutal. Without having one of the pacing coaches at my side, I don't think I could have run it. He instructed us to look up (not at the ground), slow down, and shorten our stride lengths. We ran slower when we got to the top of the hill, and once we recovered, we were moving again. 

The pace group allowed me to catch my breath when I needed to and propelled me to keep going when I just wanted to lie down spread-eagled on the street and dump a cooler of nuun on my body. I could have pulled ahead or lagged behind, but I stayed with them at all costs. We talked and laughed and waved at people. We power-walked through the water stations, and they got us back on track so that we could keep our time. Wasting energy to catch up to this group was by far the smartest decision I made for this race. 

Somehow, we made it to 12 miles. Right beforehand, one of the pace coaches asked me how I was doing. I told him that I was "tired as shit", but I was going to finish. He agreed with me. He told me that we had 1.1 miles to go. Despite having such a small distance to cover, the discomfort got much, much worse. My legs felt like they each had 50 pounds of some unknown heavy substance attached to them, and my knees ached. I was breathing harder than I cared to admit. I asked one of the coaches if we were there yet. He said no. We approached another hill. The F-word audibly escaped my mouth at least one time. It probably wasn't a very big hill, but it really sucked. People were in my way. These people were in my beloved pace group, and I now wanted to shove them to the side. We passed one more water station, where I slowed down and drank too much water. I then saw the 13-mile sign, and that's when I pulled away from my group. 

​
The Final .1 Miles
I ran for the 13-mile marker despite every inch of my body protesting. I was so excited to be done that I pulled ahead of my group. From there, the group of spectators thickened. I don't remember much of that .1 miles except for that I wanted to sit down on the side of the road. As a spectator in the Chicago Marathon who has hung around the 25.2-mile marker many times and wondered why the runners were walking if they were so close to being done (or why they started walking at that point), I finally understood. I also wondered how in hell I am going to double this distance in October, but that's something to worry about on another day! The good news is that I ran, breathing ugly-sounding noises, and passed the finish line.

People clapped. Somebody handed me a medal, and another person gave me a wet towel that I promptly put on the back of my neck. I also remember taking more nuun, a bottle of water, and a bag of post-race snacks. My breathing returned to normal. I drank my water and sloppily ate my banana and walked around the finishing area while waiting for my mom. Soon, she was done too. 

I finished in 2:09:52 at a 9:55 pace. I achieved my goal and came out alive. Despite the hardships at the beginning and end of the race, I had a smile painted on my face for the rest of the day. I don't know if other races will be this special, but I think it's safe to say that I've fallen in love with running. I've crossed over that threshold from pain to bliss. I hope that my body stays strong and allows me to run 26.2 miles in October. I have lots of training and therapy ahead of me. My official marathon training kicks off this Saturday, so get ready for many more running posts!