You've got a friend

Classic James Taylor song for today's blog. "Just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I'll come running." I have 2 friends to thank for helping me with today's run.

First, my buddy for the last 20 years or so. Who else is so cool that on her 17th wedding anniversary and night of a huge FSU game against a top 10 team, would be alright with no alcohol Pdaddy (which translates to "crabby Pdaddy") and a carb driven dinner? Hell, Tree even stuck to water with me and made sure the kids were quiet and respectful when I crawled in bed at 9. Training for a marathon is an investment. Long runs happen during family time because it's easier to carve away at these minutes than it is work minutes. Silly but true. So, Happy Anniversary Tree and thanks for hanging in there thru Marathon #2.

Secondly, one of my favorite people. When I posted that I needed runners to help me with today's run, Hill Cavan was the first to respond with "When and where do you need me?" Most of you who read this thing know or have met Hill. Watching her accomplish her first marathon in 2006 inspired me on this crazy journey. Today, she volunteered to meet me at mile 8 and run with me to mile 12 (note, getting from 10-11has been my achilles heel this year). Running with me for 4 meant an 8 mile for her. Not only did Hill help me through a few tough miles, she hung with me to 14, resulting in a 12 miler for her. She even gave up her Sat night out to help me on Sunday morning. Unbelieveable. Hill knows I don't like to talk when I run, so she ran along with me in silence except for amazingly intuitive comments at just the right times, like "Water ahead" when she knew I needed fuel. "Almost to the top" 3/4 of the way up this troublesome little hill. And every so often, a simple "How you doing?". In addition, she knew when to "pull" me and when to "push" to maximize my performance. She will say it was just coincidental. It was not. She was a great coach and a better friend today.

So, I'll try to be brief....morning was perfect. The sky was still black as I approached the city. I would never imagine that the skyline looks as brilliant in twinkle lights as it does against the sunrise. As morning awoke, the clouds turned from deep purple to burgundy to plum to garnet to red to pink. Amazing. The huge sun broke the horizon while I was on LSD. I looked and did a double take as if a gorgeous woman just passed. The type of woman you do that double take for even if you are with your spouse, one that even she would say "ei chi wa wa" (and that's not a sexist statement, you women know what I'm talking about it...you take the double take sometimes too.) It was a perfect morning. Mid sixties and not too humid. All went well with everything from dinner to sleep to am fuel to arrival. I was perfectly prepared for this run. The run starts at Foster and the lake. Unfortunately, parking is not so ample, so I wind up parking about a mile from the start. A runner jokes with me en route to the start "I guess we can tack a mile onto this run!" I reply "this is the easy walk, wait 'til the walk back AFTER the run".

Run started strong and I felt fantastic. Today was about discipline. Can I put my stubborn ego aside and run in a pace group at a slower pace to maximize distance? I started with an 11 min mile pace group and convinced my self to stay with the group through the first few miles. After we settled in and I took my place amongst the group ("2 by 2" as the obnoxious leader of the group behind us kept barking), I became impatient as it felt so slow. Couple that with the chatty girl who wouldn't shut her trap, I struggled not to break away and pick up the pace. I kept telling myself "It's all about discipline today" and stuck with it. Two of my fave up tempo songs even came on..."Stay with it at least 5 miles" I begged.

Route is great. Lakefront running path, a few loops to make the miles work, a journey into Lincoln Park before crossing the bridge at North Ave to join the path again. By this time (7 miles), I had picked up the pace and was solo, as I prefer. Just me, my music, my thoughts and taking in the beauty of the run. I come in and out of my void, but bottom line, feel fantastic. Coming down the path from North to Division, Hill jumps in and joins me for the next 6. It's interesting mentally as I heading "home" from my normal 5 miler route only to connect with the beginning of my normal 7 miler run. So...."almost home" becomes "here we go" in an instant. Take upper path around the Shedd to the beauty of Burnham Harbor and continue past Soldier Field. The struggle is starting and as I hit the 12 mile Aid Station, I have flashback of last year and specifically remember the location. This is where my pause for water turned into "I'll just walk to that lightpost" and then the next and the next until I was in full walk break and the run was busted. I celebrated the mental victory of breaking through this wall. Hill decides to hang with me through 12 and then 13, citing "These are the miles that I struggle through"...right. When we hit 14, I tell her "If you keep going now, you have to finish it with me" which prompts an immediate and definitive "Nope,I'm out. Go Kill it now!" and like that, I'm solo again. Thanks again Hill, you have no idea how much that meant.

In distance running, everyone talks about "hitting the wall". That moment when you are finished and have to make the choice to break through and allegedly, once through, you are running on sheer will power. For me, the wall gets build, one brick at a time, on my back while running. I try like hell to push the bricks off, but eventually can't. I feel it in my posture, specifically, it feels like there is a rope tied to my forehead, putting it down to the road until my chin is on my chest. I start longing for the next aid station and my mouth gets parched and sticky. I push back, adjusting my posture and thinking about "breaking through". All this does is move the bricks from my shoulders to a "backpack", relief for a minute, and then they start piling on again until I can't go any futher.

Today,I didn't make it out of the 16 mile aid station. Only 4 miles to go and I couldn't get through. Don't get me wrong, I finished, but walked maybe half of the last 4. I was again, disappointed, but not upset. 16 strong miles is an accomplishment and finishing 20 is not something most people can say they have done. Perhaps I'm not meant to run more than 16. I've done it before...but just once. Last year's 18 miler. I made 15 1/2 on Marathon day with walking. Maybe that's my limit. I'm not ready to accept that as absolute, but am willing to accept it for this particular journey. Today made me realize that perhaps it's time to adjust my goal and enjoy whatever happens on 10/11. Accomplishing my second marathon, regardless of whether or not I walk some if it, is something to be proud of and celebrate, and I will....until next time.

Interesting lesson learned today....one we all learned as kids from Aesop's fable, The Hare and the Tortoise. Yep, you probably could have guessed. As I'm walking for a minute on mile 20, who comes slowly running by....my pace group, down to the leader plus 2. They trot by and I desperately want to pick up and finish with them, but I can't. Stay with them for a 100 yards or so before I have to drop off and watch them bring it home ahead of me. Curious. Wonder what would have happened if I would have had the discipline to stay with them the whole way? Maybe I'll take this lesson with me to race day and see what happens. Maybe the goal doesn't have to change....maybe.

Long post today, but a long run,so what did you expect?