Monday, October 10, 2011

The Chicago Marathon and Me

I love a good re-creation of ancient Greek couriers as much as the next guy, but watching it with thousands of fellow Chicago Marathon fans Sunday morning was really something special.  I hope to do a write-up this week about a real Chicago hero who ran Sunday, but I would like to take a day or two to  fittingly capture this person's amazing feat before posting.  Look for it soon.

The crowd at the event was first-class all the way.  I have never heard so many cow bells at one time.  Life needs more cow bell.  The audience was polite, wildly supportive, and extremely tidy.  It made me proud to be a Chicagoan. 

I fought the urge to yell "Run, Forrest" all day.
Part of me feels a tad envious that folks can actually train, sacrifice, and push their bodies to such extremes.  I can't even do a sit-up.  The dedication needed to run 26.2 miles exceeds most people's physical and psychological limits.  I get grouchy when I don't get a close spot at the grocery store.  How do they do it? 

As I was feeling all disappointed about my lumpy, middle-aged body, my husband reminded me how happy I was when I took up running a couple of years ago.  Back then, we even decided to run the Shamrock Shuffle 8K together.  Little did I know that race day would correspond with a horrible, late-season ice and snow storm. Still, the pride we felt after completing our frosty little run was immeasurable. This was the point my husband tried making Sunday night:

Joe:  You completed an 8K! That's nothing to sneeze at.

Me:  But they gave you beer at the end.  There was an incentive.

Joe:  True.  But why don't you think about running again?  You loved it.

Me:  I am so out of shape now.  You're calling me fat, aren't you?

Joe:  No, I'm calling you grumpy. 

Me:  I know you are, but what am I?

Joe:  C'mon.  I'll buy you a beer if you do it.

Me:  Start running again?

Joe:  Yes.

Me:  Make it an appletini and you have a deal.

So I think I'm ready to start trotting around Beverly again at an amazing 11.2 minute mile pace while dazzling everyone with my gazelle-like grace and superhuman speed.

They're all going to laugh at me. 

But perhaps not as much as this guy:

I wonder if he already has locked in a running buddy?


  1. Yay! We can run together... although I will need to run double time to just keep up with your walking speed! Steph and I talked about training for a 1/2 marathon to be run by the year we turn 40 (so we have 15 years to train, right?). Want to join us?

  2. Rada - I need goals! Count me in!

  3. I'll join in if guarantied hard salami on Lithuanian rye or pepperoni with saltines afterwards. A cold beer is a given.