It was just after 5:45 AM when I stood up out of bed. I brushed my teeth, put in my contacts and
prepared for my daily 4-mile morning run.
I slipped on a dry fit running shirt, my running shorts, socks and
shoes. Then I proceeded to layer on a
running jacket, a beanie, and a thin pair of gloves. Looking out the window, it was still dark outside
except for the streetlights illuminating the snow, sidewalk, and parked cars on
the street. I grabbed my ipod and my
keys, headed out the door, down the steps, and onto the sidewalk. The temperature read 14 degrees Fahrenheit on
my phone. I tucked my phone into my
pocket, turned on my ipod, and began running.
Chicago is known for many things. It’s ridiculously cold weather, shopping,
sports teams, being a small and clean New York, and its music scene. I will always remember it for it’s delicious
food, the friends I made, and most notably, the place where my journey as a
runner began. Shortly after graduating
from college in June 2008, I landed a job at a local law office in my hometown
in the Detroit suburbs. After a few road
trips to attend interviews, I accepted a position at the law firm’s
headquarters in Chicago in May 2009. It
was time for the first chapter of my journey out west. On May 26th, 2009, I packed up and
moved to Chicago to pursue this new opportunity. It was 2 days before my 23rd
birthday. Luckily for me, I had friends
living in the Wicker Park neighborhood of Chicago who were kind enough to let
me crash on their couch for a couple of weeks.
Although the pace and way of life was new to me, I adapted to big city
life pretty quickly. I was enjoying my
routine of taking the train to downtown (known to locals as the Loop) every morning,
putting in a hard day’s work at my new job, and spending my evenings sampling
Chicago’s delicious take out restaurants and talking with my friends about my
day, about city life, about how exciting it was to be away from home, and how
every day was more fun than the previous one.
My friends were awesome and introduced me to Chicago style cuisine, helped me meet
new people, took me to local hangouts, and helped me learn my way around the
city.
I eventually settled in an apartment on Chicago’s north side
about a block away from a quiet beach on Lake Michigan. I fell deeper into my routine, and Chicago began
to feel more and more like home.
Although I had a longer commute on the train, I still ran almost every
day, often in the evening after work. In
an attempt to showcase the best of what my neighborhood had to offer, I
designed a course that led down the street and out to the beach, followed the
beach for a while, then traveled back inland, eventually leading back to my building. The course could range from 3 to 4 miles
depending on how far along the beach I wanted to run. Living in a brand-new city and neighborhood
naturally made me want to run longer and more frequently. I was curious about what I’d encounter along
the way. I wanted to be by the beach. I wanted to get to know my neighborhood, and I
wanted to become part of the community.
When I left Michigan, I had never run any further than a 5K distance, I
drove my car a lot, and didn’t do much walking.
In Chicago, I traveled much more frequently on foot, walking to and from
train stops every day during my commute and making round trips on foot to the
grocery store, restaurants, and coffee shops.
Most days during that summer in 2009, I would run 3 or 4 miles after
work, take a shower, grab my book, head to the beach, and read for a while in
the sand by the lake before returning home to have dinner. This was my first time living alone and on my
own with no roommates. I was in complete
control of doing what I wanted when I wanted.
Life was good and it was simple; Wake up, put in a solid day at work,
come home, run, read by the beach, have dinner, and hang out with my friends on
the weekends.
By the time summer turned to fall in late September, I had
lost 30 pounds and was easily able to run a 10K distance. I woke up feeling more energized every
morning. With the seasons changing and
the air becoming cooler and more refreshing in the morning, I began running in
the morning before work. I began going
to sleep earlier, waking up earlier, eating a more balanced breakfast, counting
my calories, and generally taking better care of myself. After running my first sanctioned 10K race in
November, finishing in just over 48 minutes, I ramped up my training and ran
outside nearly every day even throughout the winter months when the morning
temperature typically hovered in the teens.
I joined CARA (Chicago Area Runners Association), a local running club
which introduced me to more runners and more activities. In Spring of 2010 I moved back to the Wicker Park
area and went on to complete my first half marathon in April of 2010 in my
college town of Kalamazoo. I ran two
more half marathons that summer, and had my sights set on running my first
marathon. The Chicago marathon is held
every year in Grant Park on the first Sunday of October. The race is extremely popular among running
junkies, attracts runners from all over the globe, and caps out at 45,000
participants, often selling out quickly when registration opens in March. As excited as I was to be part of this
prestigious race, I was a bit overwhelmed by it. I had never run any further than a half
marathon before and doing two of them back to back seemed daunting. A few of my co-workers knew of my life outside
of work as a runner and suggested I talk to Matan, one of the attorneys who
also was a running fanatic. One day at
work, I swung by his office to chat. I
told him that the upcoming Chicago marathon was going to be my first one. Matan was an accomplished runner who had run
3 marathons at that point and had lost track of how many half marathons he had
completed. My mind was blown. “It’s hard to imagine even running 14 miles”
I said. After hearing my concerns, he
gave me some unexpected advice; slow down.
“Do long distances at a ridiculously slow pace, almost like you’re going
too slow, and that’s what’s going to save you.
Your fitness will improve. Make
sure you’re logging around 35 miles per week and begin to taper off three weeks
before the marathon”.
It worked. I slowed
my pace, refined my breathing pattern, and soon found myself capable of running
17, 18 miles. As I steadily added miles
to my training runs, the thought of running a marathon was now becoming more
realistic. I could know digest the
thought of completing 26.2 miles, so to speak.
After more weeks of training, running in both the morning and evening,
and developing my form, the morning of the marathon arrived. The night before, I had enjoyed a delicious
meal at a local Italian restaurant with my Aunt Nancy and Aunt Katie who had come
to town to support me in the race. I
arrived in Grant Park and took my place in the pack, anxiously waiting. I had gone over my race plan beforehand which
was to simply run steadily as long as I could before resorting to walking. It was going to be a warm day so I also had to
be sure that I was staying hydrated and drinking at aid stations. The
gun went off at 7:00 AM and the race was on.
The first 21 miles were survivable but at mile 22 my tank was running on
empty. I was forced to walk and my legs
cramped up so badly, it required substantial effort to even move forward. Finally, I decided to just hobble over to the
sidelines and stretch my legs out.
Shortly after, I resumed forward progress hobbling along, running when I
was able. The last 2 miles were sheer
determination and grit. As I approached
the finish line, the spectators were cheering so loudly, I couldn’t hear my
ipod anymore. I hobbled over the finish
line, completing the race in 4 hours and 16 minutes. I let out a victorious yell and threw my arms
in the air in celebration. I was
overcome with joy and emotion that I had just completed 26.2 miles on one of
the most prestigious courses in the world!
There is something special about finishing that very first
marathon. A feeling that is truly unique
and will never repeat itself. You feel
as if you’ve conquered the impossible and you know in your mind and soul that
you can officially call yourself a marathoner.
You’ve become a member of the elite few who ever challenge themselves to
attempt such a feat. With this new
feeling of accomplishment, your fears shrink, your demeanor becomes more
carefree, and the problems in your life seem more solvable. Nothing is ever the same from that moment
forward. With a finishers medal placed
around my neck, I tracked down Aunt Nancy and Aunt Katie who had seen me
running at various points along the course and were tracking my progress. I gave them a big hug and told them I was
beyond grateful for their support. I
also ran into a few friends I had met in the running community and we exchanged
kudos and pats on the back. When I
finally made it home, I promptly knocked out for a good three hours.
After the 2010 Chicago marathon, my running didn’t just
continue, it thrived. I ran another
marathon the following May and the Chicago marathon again the following year
while running numerous half marathons in between. I began participating in races with my friends
Bethany, Ajay, and Marina. I played
beach volleyball with them during the summer and Ajay’s coffee shop along with
their spacious apartment were frequent hangouts for our group of friends. Bethany, Ajay, and Marina were accomplished
runners in their own right, and we had lots of fun especially participating in
the holiday themed races like the Santa Hustle, a local favorite that takes
place in the first weekend of December. Bethany and Ajay would later be my team
mates when I returned to Chicago from Los Angeles to participate in the Ragnar
relay race from Milwaukee to Chicago in June 2013. My old friend and roommate Sean from college
eventually moved to Chicago as well and had recently taken at least a mild
interest in running. He and his
girlfriend had a place in Bucktown, where they formed their own band, “The
Winchester Sound” (named after the street they lived on). Sean and I would meet at the train stop in
Wicker Park and go for 2 or 3-mile jogs around the city catching up on old
times and goofing around. When we
weren’t running together, I would attend The Winchester Sound’s shows which were
often held at local bars or restaurants.
When it came time for me to make my long-awaited move to Los
Angeles in March of 2012, it was evident that my fitness level, determination,
endurance, and speed were like night and day compared to three years prior when
I had first arrived in Chicago. I had
gone from running no further than a 5K distance all by myself to hammering out
multiple marathons and participating in numerous races with my friends. I had lost over 30 pounds, adopted a
healthier life style, learned a lot about living in a big city, went to Cubs
games, went snowboarding in Wisconsin, made a lot of great friends, had some
love interests, advanced in my professional career, and generally learned a lot
about life and living. It was hard to
say goodbye, but I knew that California was where I belonged. Now having 3 marathons under my belt, I was
convinced at the time that my running career had reached its peak. If only I had known what was instore for me
when I arrived in California. I had no
idea that 5 years later I would be standing at the start line of a 100K trail
race.
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