To run 26.2 or not to run 26.2, that is the question

Tomorrow is the St Jude Memphis (Half) Marathon.

THE FACTS:

Last year, I ran the full marathon (my first!).

This year, I registered for the full marathon.

Last year, I was hurt and 2 months out of training due to my stupid ankles.

This year, I am 2 months out of training because I am a lazy piece of poo.

Last year, it was blazing hot.

This year, it is supposed to be much cooler.

So the question becomes:

Do I run the FULL marathon? Or cash in my pride and duck out at the HALF split?

My plan right now is to stick with the half. I cannot change my registration, but I am allowed to take a right at mile 12 rather than a left, save my legs an additional 13.1 miles, and still get a medal. (The woman at the information desk continues by saying, "But you will not qualify for any awards." Upon which I laugh out loud.)

BUT, and that's a big but (not to be confused with a big butt), what if I am feeling "optimistic" at mile 12? Do I keep going? Do I risk it? A potential injury or DNF? Decisions, decisions.

I feel like a cheater, because my shirt says MARATHON and my bib says MARATHON- am I a lier if I wear my shirt in a few days and people are all like "Whoa, you ran a marathon?!" and I am all "Umm, well, no, but, I registered for one!" Sorry, registering doesn't count. Silly detail, but remember: my mind is a very strange place to live.

If I had to put money down right now, I would say I do the HALF. I am 99.9% sure I will do a half. I will suppress that .1% that is crossing its arms, squinting at me, and saying "You SUCK, ya know that?!" and hold my head high as I cross the 13.1 finish line. Because while part of me may scream FAILURE, another part of me is like YOU JUST RAN A HALF MARATHON, AND THAT IS STILL PRETTY BAD ASS!

BTW. Check out my bib:

SCHECKY! Yea buddy!

Story: One day while out shopping with Kevin, we saw these pens-

You see there? You see the 2nd one down? Shecky The Clown? Yea, that is AWESOME. So now, my loving boyfriend has adopted SCHECKY THE CLOWN as one of my many nicknames. I love it.

Blogger FAIL leads to LESSON LEARNED

One of my running friends made a joke that I should rename my blog to "Still Learning to Blog." I was all like "No, I am just busy, I... No, I just have a lot going on... right now... Lot's to do... Things and... stuff... and... dammit, you're right."

Hi, my name is Amy Mary, and I am a blogging FAILURE.

But, to be honest (no, not just making excuses here...), I have not been running. Like, at all. I think I have gone on maybe 4 runs since the Chicago Marathon (which was nearly 2 months ago!), with the longest being 10k. So I felt I had nothing to write about. But really, in hindsight, I probably should have kept writing- it was exactly what I NEEDED to be doing. Perhaps it would have helped me through my running funk/ slump/ rut/ whatever you want to call it. And, more importantly, it may have helped other runners out there in the same predicament.

There are a few runners I have met (or followed on twitter, read their blogs, etc) that run religiously. I have never heard of them hitting a wall, wanting a weekend off, or just plain needing a break. They just run. Constantly. And don't complain. At all. But, to be fair, a lot of those people are elite athletes who have spent years and years and years dedicated to running and have built it into their life. I am definitely still a running newbie. Two years of neat new clothing, medals, shoes, and poop issues does not an elite runner make. While I love running, I also love my life. I love lazy Saturday mornings sleeping in, making pancakes, and watching sports with Kevin (vs waking up at 6am to run 16 miles). I love going out for a drink with the girls after work (vs heading straight home and knocking out a 6 miler). I love being able to wear high heels to work and not worry about being sore. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE RUNNING, but I am also a 29 year old girl (not woman, that makes me sound old- and lord knows I am not mature enough to be called a woman) that enjoys a social life and vegging out on the couch from time to time.

And really, if you don't enjoy a nice weekend of lounging in the same pajamas for 48 hours straight, you are not human, and I judge you.

So, with that said, I do wish I had written more during my vacation from running (which turned into a vacation from blogging as well). It is good to talk through these slow times and let other runners (or anyone with any hobby they may get tired of) know that IT HAPPENS, AND IT IS OK.

I think part of the reason I stopped running is that awful downward spiral my mind sets out on:
1) Shoot, I didn't run today- I will run tomorrow.
which turns into...
2) Damn, I didn't run yesterday, that throws off my whole week of training. I will start back up next week.
leading to the dreaded...
3) I am such a failure. It has been 2 weeks and suddenly my pants don't fit. Let's just eat another cookie and drink another beer and worry about it next week.
ending in the crash and burn of...
4) Forget it. It's been too long. I suck at running. I will need to start from scratch. Why even bother.

Yea, I know, my mind can be quite fantastical and catastrophic, right? What would you pay to be inside my head for just 5 minutes?! Would you even survive?! Be thankful for medication.

So my LESSON(s) LEARNED here, are:
-Stop being a drama queen and just get back out there and run. No matter how far, for how long, or how slow. Just run.
-It is ok to take some time off, hit the snooze button, eat some mac and cheese, and hang up the running shoes for a day... or two.
-When I feel out of it, talk about it and share it with others- not only will writing help me through it, but it will help others in a similar position.
-I do love running. A lot. It is a part of my life I will cherish forever. But just like I love shots of chilled tequila, sometimes you just need a break. And that's ok.

With that said, I am still learning to blog. Please hang in there with me. And enjoy the stories as I pull myself out of this slump.

I shall leave you with a picture from Thanksgiving. A few of my friends and I hung around Memphis rather than fight the travel insanity. We had a great time. I love my friends. (Note the scrumptious Tofurkey I made, front-left. And note that Thuy forgot to take the bag of gizzards out of the turkey's ass- HA!)

Cory, Thuy, me, Maureen, Eszter.
Thanksgiving portrait.

Chicago Race Report (FINALLY!)

I really reached a new level of RUDE, didn't I? I mean, 4 full weeks of going MIA, and I blame it on a book? I finished the book long ago, and still blew you off. Go ahead and delete me from your life, I don't blame you. But if you do, you will miss out on a whole lotta awesome.

SO THE RACE! YES! HERE WE GO! Get a snack, kick off your shoes, and get comfy, cuz I can tell you now, this will be nothing less than A LOT of reading. Too busy to read? Lots of neato pictures, too! But I surely make up for my absence with the length and content of this post.

Here we go...

I took the train to Chicago. THAT was an experience in itself. I took a train with my family from New York to New Mexico when I was, like, 16 years old. It was awesome cuz we got a sleeper car to ourselves. Oh, and I wasn't en-route to run a marathon. So needless to say, this was a very different experience. I left Memphis at 11pm, arrived in Chicago at 7am, and somehow managed to get a few hours of sleep along the way. All in all, it was a good experience, and I would surely do it again, but let's just remember that I have a curse and manage to attract the most insane people possible. And those people want to be my friend. I will leave it at that.

Some background- WHY did I pick the Chicago Marathon? MY BEST FRIEND EVER LIVES IN CHICAGO. Omar, my bff from Clemson, has lived up there for about 6 years, and I try to visit him as often as I can. So why not visit AND run a race, right? He ran it last year and I was in complete awe as I cheered him on. This year, my turn to run and his turn to cheer.

So I get off the train and he is there, all hugs and smiles and excitement! YAY!

Omar and his awesome pup, Oliver. Oli was so excited to see me, can't you tell?

Also, when I get off the train, I realize the weather warnings they were sending out were NO JOKE. Holy crap, it was FREEZING! Like, make your nose run, make your ears feel like they are going to snap off, make you wonder wtf is wrong with people who live in weather like this. (How I lived in Vermont for 10 years, I will never understand.) But then I remembered my runs in August in 150 degree weather, when I PROMISED myself I would NEVER EVER AGAIN complain about cold weather, and I immediately cut off all negative thoughts and began thanking Mother Nature.

Another friend of ours, Andrew, was running the race as well. It is his FIRST marathon, wahoo! We headed off meet up with him, and went on our merry way.

Expo, blah blah. Pre-race pasta dinner, blah blah. Pre-race Clemson victory, blah blah. Pre-race icing and stretching, blah blah. Get to the good stuff, Amy. PRE-RACE HOLY SMOKES I AM EXCITED.

There are 2 pre-race MUSTS in the world of a psychotic, neurotic, planning freak of nature like me...

2) Laying out my outfit the night before so it is ready the moment I wake up:

This isn't just your basic "pick a shirt, pick some shorts" ordeal. No, no. This is head to toe, top to bottom, everything that will be on my body in any way, shape, or form. Everything from my bib to my underwear to sunblock, it is laid out with the precision of a serial murderer that hasn't been caught in 30 years of criminal activity.

2) The perfect breakfast:

Before EVERY run, I MUST have the same thing. That way, I know my stomach won't explode, or even worse... ya know... POTTY ISSUES. Catch my drift? A little slow? Not understanding? Let me spell it out a little better: POOP. Got it? (Hey, it is a part of running. If you can't handle the poo talk, peace out.)
A) Emergen-C
B) Banana
C) Black coffee
D) Whole grain bread
E) Peanut or almond butter
Anything more, less, or different will result in a disaster beyond all belief. Don't ask how I know this. Just don't. Seriously.

I see you judging me and my neurotic behavior. And I am ok with it. I KNOW I am a freak. I embrace it. I have complete insight. The medication keeps me at bay, don't worry.

Alarm goes off at 4:30am and I am up like a shot, ready to go. Totally stoked. Couldn't contain myself. Worse than a 4 year old before their Dora the Explorer birthday party. I poop, I eat, I dress, I stretch, I put on my amazing jacket... oh, you forgot about the amazing jacket? Really? Well here is a reminder:

You didn't know I had a porn star mustache? 

The walk to the start line was awesome. It was a parade of racers, and you could feel the energy flowing: anticipation, excitement, fear... a sea of roller coaster emotions getting thrown around. I make my way to my start corral in a semi-dream-like state. It was a total blur. Like when I woke up from getting my wisdom teeth out and was acting comparable to a drug addict after a 9 day bender. For some reason, everything felt very surreal, and I didn't know how or what to feel. As I moved closer and closer to the start line, my mind remained completely blank. It was the strangest sensation.

Aaaannnnndddddd I cross the start line. Immediately, I am thrown into a sea of excitement. Runners, spectators, television cameras, bells ringing, posters and signs, balloons, music blasting... complete stimulus overload. I broke into a smile so big, and it didn't let up for the next 5 hours.

I didn't have my music playing or my headphones in yet, as I wanted to really soak it all up. I figured that after the first mile or 2, the spectators would thin out and I would go into the zone. PFFFTTT! Yea RIGHT! I am telling you this without any sarcasm (which for me, is a HUGE statement): the spectators lined both sides of the street for the ENTIRE 26.2 miles! It was like nothing I have ever experienced in my life. So many people- and they were cheering for all of us. Strangers supporting strangers. Excitement all around. It was... spectacular. With every corner I turned, I was continuously amazed at the support this city offered. It was beyond anything I could ever imagine, and the emotions overwhelmed me the entire time.

The weather was perfect. And I mean PERFECT. Not too cold, not too hot. I bid farewell to my pimpin' jacket at the start line, but I kept on my throw-away long sleeve under-shirt the entire time and was so comfortable. Rolled up the sleeves here and there when in the sun, but glad to have my arms covered in the shade. A slight breeze, and not a cloud in the sky. I couldn't have asked for better weather. Mother Nature, you da BOMB.

Heeeeey, sexy lady!

What, you thought I would take all normal pictures? Cmon, you know me better than that.

Free tickets to the Chicago Marathon Gun Show.

A few noteworthy sights:

-My favorite signs included "You are really good at exercise" and "Your elementary gym school teacher would be so proud". But seriously, there were so many, I lost track of favorites after about mile 3.

-I saw a blind man running.

-I saw a woman with 1 leg (and a blade prosthetic) running.

-When we passed a nursing home, the windows were filled with elderly folks waving and cheering.

As far as the actual running is concerned... dude, it was flawless! I felt great physically and mentally. My knees got a tiiiiiny bit sore around mile 10 or so, but nothing worth worrying about- mostly them just reminding me that I am an idiot for wanting to run 26 miles. I took it slow, walked through water stops every 3 miles or so, and really took care of myself. I did not have my Garmin with me, and I was not worried about pace or finish time- I just focused on soaking in the experience. I kept seeing random pace group leaders, but it mostly just confused me. I would see a 4:30 pacer from my start corral running in stride with a 5:30 pacer from the corral behind me. Um, what? Forget you guys, imma be my own pacer! Anyway, I felt awesome. At mile 23, out of nowhere, my left IT band threw up a white flag and said "screw you guys, I'm going home" all Kenny style, and started killing me. I stopped to stretch, and had to do this ever half mile or so, but pushed through the pain for the last 3 miles/ 30 minutes.

Really, I could go on and on, but words cannot do it justice. Seriously. I wish I could suck these feelings out of my soul and share them with you so you could understand just how amazing it was. It was easily a top 3 experience in my life, paling in comparison only to the birth of my niece. As I approached the finish line, I felt like I had conquered the world. I was like Leonardo DiCaprio on the front of the Titanic. Like Ariel when she got her legs. Like Harry Potter when he defeated Voldemort. Like Andy Dufresne when he fell out of the sewer pipe after escaping Shawshank. Get the picture? I mean, come on, LOOK AT ME:

All smiles across the finish line!

Couldn't be happier!

Baller.

A little 'tude gets you a LONG way. 26.2 miles, to be exact.

Thank you, Chicago!

Even just looking at the pictures, I am rejuvenated and my heart starts jumping and I get all creepy happy. It is xanax for the soul, I tell ya. I finished in 4:43, which is 45 MINUTES FASTER THAN LAST YEAR. I mean, yea, I was injured last year, but still, a 45 minute PR is above and beyond my wildest dreams. BEST 4 hours and 43 minutes EVERRRRRR.

Oh, and hey! Check out my bling, yo!

Selfie picture WHOO HOO!

To add to my wall-o-fame.

So the race ended, and I got my free post-race beer, got some free snacks (and promptly inhaled some Cape Cod potato chips, nom nom nom), went and got my bag from bag check-- all the while just floated around in this freakishly happy state. I called Kevin- it was so good to hear his voice and praise, I couldn't ask for a more supportive partner. I called my mom and we cried together. After about 15 minutes, this endorphin-high began to wear off and I realized I was FREEZING COLD. Luckily, Omar had tons of warm clothing for me. So I found him, bundled up, and talked a mile a minute about how awesome the race was.

Aimster and Marty!

Warm and proud.

We met up with Andrew (he kicked some major marathon ass as well, but I will save that for his guest post that he will be sharing soon!), and decided to head back to Omar's place to shower, stretch, get warm, and, the best part of running... THE POST RACE BINGE! What better way to celebrate the CHICAGO marathon than with the best pizza on earth- Giordano's!

This is what you eat in heaven.

Be still my heart... 

We've got the veggie delux pizza, a huge italian salad, bread sticks, and Omar's famous mojitos. Really, can you think of anything more satisfying after burning over 2,000 calories? I think I cried at some point during the meal, it was that amazing.

After our binge, we just lazied around as the soreness set in. On Sunday evening, the only thing that really hurt was the top of my foot/ bottom of my shin. Rather than ice it, I just kept my cold, pumpkin beer there. Better than a koozie, and a great way to multi-task.

Is it the cold or the alcohol that relieves the pain? Either way, it helped.

We went to bed around 9pm, and I don't even remember hitting the pillow. I was OUT. I woke up around 4am to pee, and promptly fell to the floor when I tried to stand up. Over night, my body had completely seized up and my legs decided to just stop working. It took me 10 minutes to make it the 15 feet to the bathroom. Let's not even talk about how hard it was to lower myself to the toilet seat (damn you, men, and your ability to pee while standing!)... then another 10 minutes to get back to bed.

We all got up around 7am on Monday and knew that the best thing for us was 1) another good meal, and 2) MOVING. As much as I wanted to lay on the couch in the fetal position, I knew it would be best if I keep in motion and try to loosen up my muscles.  So we headed out for an amazing breakfast (omelet with smoked gouda, potatoes and swiss chard... holy sweet Jesus) then down to Michigan Ave to do some touristy things. Wanna know the best way to shake off post-marathon soreness? Taking amazing jumping photos in front of the bean!

Then we took an hour long boat tour of the Chicago River. They talked about all of the architecture in the city, and we saw and learned some really neato stuff.  Best of all, we got a great view of the city from Lake Michigan.

Then it was time to get packed up for the train ride back to Memphis. Omar walked me to the train station- it never gets easier saying goodbye to your best friend. (Omar, we forgot to do the good-bye dance! Ahhhh!)

The train left Chicago at 8pm, and of course I get stuck next to some freak of nature that wanted to share her life story. So I kindly listened for 5 minutes, then put my headphones in, popped 2 tylenol PM, and passed out for the entire ride back to Memphis. I got in at 6am, Kevin picked me up, I melted into his arms, he brought me home, tucked me into bed, and I slept for another 4 hours.

When I woke up, I stayed curled up in bed for about 30 minutes reliving the whole experience in my mind. It was... life-changing. This event was above and beyond what I expected. It built a sense of confidence and accomplishment in my soul that I have never felt. I laid there, tears rolling down my face, happier than words can describe.

So there. The 2012 Chicago Marathon. In one word: EPIC.

FINISHERS!

Thank you to everyone that put up with my during training, and shared their love and support during the race. I love you all!