Go On Ahead

I hope that the gratitude I feel after running the Chicago Marathon last Sunday never wears off. Throughout the weekend, race, and everything leading up to it, I received strength and support from friends new and old, family, and the beautiful people and places I encountered. The marathon provided an intense way to feel that strength, and a time to feel its significance. For that I am grateful to everyone who supported me, my friends who organized our team, and Joana who inspired our efforts!

Some highlights from the weekend--

Saturday was a beautiful, cool fall day. I kept thinking to myself, if only tomorrow could be exactly the same! My pre-race host and old housemate Seth took me to pick up my race packet, then we met up with our friend Kari. Since her birthday was the next day, we treated her to macaroons and enjoyed them together on a bench in a squirrel-and-oak-tree-dense park.

That night before the race was the American Brain Tumor Association's pasta dinner for Team Breakthrough. This is where I met up with the rest of Team Joana, including my very dear friend Kelly. At Miriam's (wise sibling) advice, I ate only simple carbohydrates (like rolls and pasta), making Seth jealous (though he would not admit it). After dinner, there was a presentation from ABTA, and from a young research-grant-recipient whose work was inspired by his friend who had passed away from brain cancer.

On Sunday morning, Seth and I woke up at 5am, made some coffee and toast, then got on the L to go down to the ABTA home-base a block from the starting line at Grant Park. It was turning out to be another gorgeous day, just like the day before as I had hoped. We took some team photos, I ate a banana, the team pinned each other with our "I am running for" race bibs, and then went outside to walk to our start-corrals.

Kelly and I started in the same race corral, so after standing in a crowd to enter the starting line area, we finally made it to corral G, where we did some old-school cross country leg-swinging stretches and made our way toward the front (near the 4:10 pace group) to wait. It was about 7:25 and our wave would start at 8am. The sun was rising over the fountain on our right and the morning light was slowly reaching down the sides of the skyscrapers to our left. People around us were friendly and nervous -- we noticed that many had their smart phones and were taking photos.

Kelly and I joked that it was a "beautiful day for running" as our cross-country and track coach would say. We had fun with our brand of sarcasm, pretending to be elites. We remembered rollerblading with Joana and being called Charlie's Angels by a gentleman on the rail trail.

When the gun went off for wave 2, the announcer got excited and the crowd of runners around us started to move forward. We hugged, walked forward, and began running when we finally crossed the official start. The first 8 miles, I ran next to Kelly. The sun slanted down between buildings, and the route sloped gently. There were already supporters with signs, cheering for thousands of runners. The effect was what I think of as positive energy. We had to keep ourselves from running faster.

After Kelly went ahead somewhere before mile ten, I heard someone shout my name, turned to my right and made eye contact with an old friend and running teammate from high school, Alex. She didn't expect to see me, and I didn't expect to see her! I wanted so badly to go to her, but just that moment of recognition and excitement provided sustained joy, no matter how silly that sounds.

I brought my friend's iPod with me, but I didn't feel like putting in headphones until mile 17 or 18, when I began to get bored, achey, and disappointed that almost ten more miles were still left. I started listening to a small playlist I'd put together, which was a nice musical companion as I continued to observe the city and marathon phenomena.

During the last several miles, I wasn't really tired, as I expected to be, but my feet, legs, and back hurt more than I expected, just kind of everywhere. A supporter along the route during the last few miles held a sign that said "The first 20 miles are training. The last 6.2 are heart." I liked that one and felt it to be true for me. I hoped my heart could do it. 

Eventually, I saw a sign for 1 mile left, sped up a bit, then saw another sign for 1 mile left, and slowed down. The rest of the signs were accurate and brought me, incredibly, to the finish. I experienced the relaxing and relieving feeling of being done and able to walk/hobble. I eventually made it back to the home-base, where I found my friends waiting and sat down in good company. I felt exhausted, but strong of heart. 

September 2014

Last October, my friend Joana McKeoun passed away after several years of fighting brain cancer. I met Joana when she joined our high school track team, and we first bonded over our admiration for the freshman honors English teacher. As it turned out, I did not share her love of Radio Disney or speed workouts, nor did she my love of Oprah, but we did share an enthusiasm for collage-making and teasing each other’s quirks. As we became closer, Joana made me know that she loved me in action and words. For example, she told me she missed me when the track season ended, pointed out what she admired in me, once interrupted my class to deliver a homemade Christmas card, and agreed to go rollerblading on the rail trail over and over again. She was the sort of friend I still try to be.

Every bitter night into an empty room I plead my case Every night i pray that in the morning when I wake I'll be in a familiar place and find that I'm recovered and I'm sane

And I'll remember everything I'll remember what I was like before that bug bit me

And when I have my childhood back I'll tear every page out of my book Place them in an urn strike a match and watch them burn Then I'll hold the front cover against the back cover and look

Shepherd us, we're lost Deliver us, we're taken Far from the love That we were made in

Heaven, can't you see We've been seeking For the door You've been keeping?

Enough, enough I see your pain, I know it's rough But there's a crowd, love Please don't push and shove

Heaven, I can't wait I won't leave it up to fate I believe That I was made for being free

Why the wait? Your only prison is this Golden Gate Find your own way Don't delay

I seek another season Let me out and let me in I knock for damn good reason Let me out, let me in

My mistake I thought I let you in long before today I gave it all away Did not my son say

Heaven is at hand Made her home in your own land Won't you take the gift? The earth you walk is blessed

My mistake I thought I let you in long before today Quit praying 'let me in' Forgive your own sin