Nothing interesting again this week with my running. I took the last two days off due to allergy drug overdose (been dazed and confused....) Might do an easy run tonight.
I moved to Chicago. I was going to go to a High School where I knew nobody. I had no friends, and just befor I left LA, the girl I had a crush on said she would miss me :( She ignored me for the prior year, what was her deal? I still ask her that till this day.
Instead of running track or x country, I decided to go the music route and play my tuba.
I remember one nice day in the spring. I thought it would be cool to run 10 miles. So I ran up the Metra trail tracks on the north shore of Chicago from Kenilworth to Ravinia and back. My brother told my dad what I was going to do, and my dad came looking for me. He never did find me, but I made it back okay. I had no reason to do this, other than wanting to run 10 miles. Still no competitive running.
I kept running as a stress release, and for the joy of it.
My playing the tuba landed my a gig at a University as a music major. I still ran for fun.
My jr. year a friend of mine said she was going to run the Chicago Marathon. I, of course, thought that anybody wanting to run that distance was crazy, but was intrigued. At that time, only 5 thousand or so started the race. I ended up deciding to do it, just to finish.
My friend was not a great runner, as she had not really run much in her life. It annoyed her that I could go run 10 - 12 miles at a decent pace.
I followed the "brute force" training plan. No plan, no watch, just go run hard. Run with your heart (i totally understood that part in the Ultramarathon Man book).
I was terrified to run that race. I don't remember much about it other than my self doubt and insecurity.
I vividly remember mile 18, hitting the wall, with a stiff head wind going north on Lake Shore Drive. I was going to quit, I could not run anymore. Problem was, many people were waiting for me to finish. Those jerks. For some reason I felt I had to keep going for them, not me. I did. Those last miles were not fun. I barely remember them. It sucked.
The old course at Chicago spends half of the distance on Lake Shore Drive, the remaining 6 miles heading south from Belmont to Grant Park. I was one of 2 or 3 runners returning back through Grant Park to a crowd of spectators. That was pretty cool. But I was dying. I managed to finish in 3:18. My friend took 5 1/2. She was mad at me.
I figured there would be no way I would EVER do something like that again. NEVER.
The next spring virtually everybody asked me "are you going to run Chicago again?"
Since I am an idiot, I said yes.
End of Chapter 2