Tomorrow is the Chicago Marathon. A race that I was scheduled to run. On Friday morning, I made the final decision to not run it.
Overall, I've had a positive training experience over the past few months. My 18 mile long run on September 11th in the midst of constant rain was a triumph for me. I felt strong throughout. My 16 miler on September 4th was even better. Of course, I had a few stinkers too. My 20 miler on September 17th on a sunny 70 degree day was a struggle, painful and slow. A half marathon on August 1st was even worse. I felt queasy and lethargic throughout, to the point of almost dropping out of the race at 5.5 miles. That day was 77 degrees.
The thread of commonality running through most of my less than stellar efforts is the weather. I'm not a warm weather runner-- especially for longer distances. I overheat very easily and my potassium levels are something that I have to pay close attention to (even though I've been on supplements since my trip to the emergency room for this problem at a race a few years ago). I admit to being very afraid of negative health consequences of running in the heat. To add to that, after not working for five months, I'm scheduled to start a new job the day after the marathon.
So when I noticed the forecasted temperatures creeping steadily upward for 10-10-10, I felt tentative. I fought the feeling, trying to rally my confidence. The pendulum swung for me between optimism and despair. Then, on Friday morning my gut told me firmly and completely to back out.
The hardest thing about the decision was telling the people who had offered me so much encouragement throughout my training process. I didn't want them to be disappointed in me or think of me as a coward. It was especially brutal to tell Teresa. She, above everyone, has been my stalwart supporter. The one who I go to for advice and who has stood by me through all of my good races and bad. She was there crying for me when I was loaded into an ambulance after a half marathon. She was also there with me when I ran all of my personal bests.
So I told her. There was no hesitation in her voice when she said to me, "that's all right. I'm proud of you." Although one or two people have voiced differing levels of negative judgement about my decision, I'm touched by the fact that once again the majority of my friends and family have been overwhelmingly supportive.
Tonight, even though I know I made the right decision for me, I'm a little sad. But the alarm clock is set for 7 a.m. tomorrow morning. I'm going to be on the sidelines cheering my heart out for Teresa and all of the other rock stars who will be running 10-10-10. I'll hop onto the course and run a bit with my soul sister. Then I'll look at race schedules and decide on a shorter distance to do before the end of the month. After all, part of courage is knowing your limitations and doing your best within them. Running's not over for me. A new chapter is beginning. I know it will bring me joy.
