No Pain, No Gain

I already talked about my coming to running: how it came as a surprise since I always dreaded it and therefore loathed it. How thanks to my friend Erin I got into it, signed up for 5Ks and decided to kick up a few notches. How I learned to enjoy it, excitement and soreness alike and how it allowed me to stay sane in moments of disarray.

Three days ago I ran my first half-marathon.
13.1 miles. 21.1 kilometers.I was exhilarating.
And painful. Of course. Actually much more than I had anticipated. I had gone through my summer training without noticeable trouble and was not prepared to have my lower back killing me (not so) softly the way it did on race day. It started almost right away, mile 2. I was 3 minutes under my 11:27/mile pace, my breathing was right, the weather was perfect and then I felt it: a dull ache in my loins worsened by every stump on the ground. I tried to change my form, straightened up, arched my back - to no avail.
I knew then that the 13 miles were going to be even longer than they already were.

But you know what? Despite the pain, the fatigue and the gradual disappointment that settled in when I found out that I wouldn't meet my goal time I enjoyed every single minute of it. OK, most of it...and now that my body has recovered I am looking forward to the next challenge. To next year. To - maybe - even a bigger challenge.

Running is freaking addictive.

It is hard to explain why because seen from the outside it looks nuts. Boring. Useless. At least it's what I used to think, and I am sure that most people out there would agree with me. Most sports have a purpose, points to score, an opponent to defeat, a task to accomplish. You have tools, partners, a coach, a program, a common goal.
Running is mainly a solitary activity. You don't need much to do it, and you certainly don't need anyone. It is you against a clock that you set however you want, a pair of shoes, your legs and your lungs. And no real direction.
It is simple and pure.


Sunday will forever remain in my memory as one of the very special days of my life. For many reasons.
Accomplishing a goal that you had fixed for yourself months in advance is in itself very satisfying. And I have to say that besides the mundanities of everyday life I hadn't achieved anything in quite a while. Quitting school a few months ago was liberating in many ways but irremediably deprived me from this sense of accomplishment that is so essential to one's life. Dedicating to this program 6 years of my life to the detriment of my physical health, sanity and self-esteem to get nothing concrete out of it wasn't particularly pleasant. It was - and some naught days, still is - painful. Maddening. Frustrating. Despite people's encouraging comments of: "You made the right decision". Other people's decisions are always much easier to validate, aren't they?
So crossing the finish line - ironically enough, just a couple of blocks away from campus - after months of hard dedication gave me an incredible rush of happiness. I raised my arms, yelled "We Did it!!" and would have been ready to hug the first random person to cross my path. Fortunately for both of us Reuben was just behind me; we kissed, exhausted but elated.

Doing this incredible journey with him was an incredible gift. I kept telling him he was crazy, insane, loco, fou, Сумасшедший, 狂人 and the biggest monkey to ever walk on Earth for wanting to run the race with me without proper training. But in reality I am damn impressed by my silly hubby. He did it. Out of love. To support me. He was initially supposed to run by my side the first 3-4 miles - the hardest for me. But he stayed the whole time. Encouraging me all the way. Pushing me. Handing me water and Gatorade. Telling me "you got this!" every time I needed to hear it.
That made all the difference in the world.

I was not alone in my journey. Fellow runners supported me all along; we shared training stories, exchanged tips and routes, suffered through the summer heat. And on Sunday I had 20,000 companions to carry me along the way. I never thought that I would enjoy running among other people, total strangers, the way I did. But for a couple of hours we were all mates. Breathing, sweating, and pounding the asphalt of Lake Shore Drive in unison.All embarked on that same adventure for different reasons and with different expectations, but all of us united by the same objective: cross the line.
And the spectators.
I never anticipated that. Hundreds of them, all along the way. We were all cheered on by families, children, cheerleaders, sign bearers, and rock bands. ROCK BANDS people. I felt like a star. "Did you know that you were my hero?" one sign read. My two favorite? "Run like an angry Kenyan" and "You are all very good at exercise",
LOL assured.
Emotion too.

When I stepped on the red line I had tears of joy in my eyes. I felt overwhelmed. Exhaustion, pride, happiness, disappointment and a little sadness to not have anyone there with us to share this special moment in our lives. I watched with envy other runners being greeted by family and loving friends. They were hugged and congratulated. Acknowledged. Some even had flowers.
We rested for a while on the grass of Jackson Park, stretching, smiling, taking a few pictures, still in awe of our accomplishment. Then we got up to walk back to the car parked on campus. People started to send us congratulation messages on our phones. But the most important ones were missing. My closest friends, my family. I took solace in thinking they didn't understand what that day meant to me. And welcomed all the others who did.
We celebrated with brunch in Wicker Park, and a festive dinner at one of the most wanted restaurants in town. A lot of pork was involved. Pints of beer as well.
When I went to bed that night my legs were not even sore anymore.

I am hungry for more. I heard that runners are kinda crazy like that.
I prefer saying: motivated.