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Dear Friends and Family, Marathon day, Sunday, October 7th, has gone by as quickly as it has come. Thank you all so much for your thoughts, prayers, well wishes, and financial support as I trained and ran the 2012 Chicago Marathon for Team World Vision! I’d like to especially thank those who donated to World Vision on my behalf. You helped me raise $2,350 for World Vision’s clean water projects in Africa. This roughly translates to a lifetime supply of clean water for 47 people! Thank you again for making a tremendous difference in the lives of others. Finally, a deeply grateful and loving thanks goes to my husband, John, who has been supportive of my efforts from the beginning, and who along with my dear sister in law, Stephanie, braved the cold weather on race day, held all my post-‐race gear and nutrition, and ran around town just to see me at various parts of the race route to cheer me on. If you’re interested in how the race went, please enjoy the synopsis of my race experience below. It’s been 6 years since my last marathon and my knees are not what they used to be. This year, I made the commitment to run for Team World Vision to help change lives in Africa. As marathon day approached, all fear of a hot 2012 Chicago Marathon was quickly dispelled by weather reports of start time temperatures in the upper 30’s. While I trained all hot summer long in a light tank top and feather-‐weight shorts, I didn’t want to “try something new” on marathon day. However, such a cold start temp required an adjustment to my race-‐wardrobe strategy. I purchased a pair of arm warmers at the new Niketown Chicago store, (and coincidentally got to see a live interview with Paula Radcliffe, former world champion marathoner and current record holder for the Chicago Marathon course at 2:12:18), and dug up a long-‐sleeve shirt that I could leave on the side of the race course as I got warmed up. I secretly hoped that the neon orange color of my compression socks would translate into some form of warmth. Dressed in a bright orange World Vision tank, blue and white-‐stripped arm warmers, crazy black and blue zig-‐zaggy shorts, glowing orange compression socks, royal blue hat, and with my fuel belt wrapped around my waist fully stocked with carefully planned sports nutrition and hydration
products, and bib number attached, I was armed and ready for battle (and there was NO WAY my friends would miss me!). I trained all summer long to the best of my ability given my bum right knee, and now only faith could carry me to the finish line in one piece. John and Stephanie were planning to scoot around the race route to cheer me on at various locations, and other friends indicated they’d be in specific spectator viewing areas during the race, as well. Looking for their faces at these particular locations would prove to be to essential motivators that allowed me to break down the 26.2 miles into mentally manageable chunks. People have told me that part of the reason the Chicago Marathon is one of the best domestic marathons, rivaling only New York, is attributed to the fantastic cheering crowds and invigorating entertainment while running through interesting, culturally distinct neighborhoods. On race day, despite the cold and wind, Chicagoans and tourists, alike were all out in full force. The race route started near the popular Chicago lakefront and wound its way through the downtown business districts, then up toward the Northside, going through the scenic Lakeview district at mile 8, where the entertainment included men (or very furry women) dressed up as cheerleaders performing on the stage and music from live bands. We ran back south for several miles, crossing over the Chicago River between mile 12 and 13, where people were ringing cow bells, flapping clappers, banging on drums, cheering us on. We then turned toward the West Loop weaving past the United Center, home of the Chicago Bulls and Blackhawks, then through the ethnically diverse neighborhoods between miles 13-‐20, of Greektown, Little Italy, and Pilsen where Mariachi music was blaring from speakers perched on someone’s front porch. The crowds there held international flags, and shouted wildly at their native homeland runners. Shortly after the 21-‐mile mark, we were ushered under the Chinatown archway by dancing Chinese dragons and lions, and familiar, fragrant scents of fried noodles with sesame oil wafting in the air. There were various signs and banners spectators waved from the crowd along the race route. Some very unique signs were complete with enlarged photo heads of their specific runner posted on extending poles. I loved the comical signs that read, “Run Faster, My Arms Are Getting Tired,” or “Run Like You Stole Something “. In one oddly desolate area along the route
toward the end of the race, a woman held up a sign that read, “Run, Random Stranger, Run”, and shouted “I’m so proud of you!” as she looked me straight in the eyes. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that point. After Chinatown, we took one final turn down toward the Southside, where White Sox stadium beckoned us, before running turning east then north again, up South Michigan Avenue in the South Loop. Roosevelt Road, the final turn up toward the finish line, was just a short 5K away…My feet were aching and my knees were burning...I was beat. I needed just one last boost to get me to Roosevelt. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, a man leaped out from the crowd, and yelled, “Becky!” My husband, John jumped out of the crowd and ran bandit with me for a few paces then pointing to the crowd ahead of him on the left, said, “Steph’s going to take your picture—I think you’re going to break 4:15!” I saw her and put on the goofiest grin and “Hi-‐De-‐Ho’d” her as she snapped the picture. That was the boost I needed, and as the Roosevelt street sign came into sight my spirits perked up. I looked at my watch…4:13. Ugh. I don’t think I’m going to break 4:15 with the last half mile going uphill. As the crowds cheered to a deafening roar, I mustered up the last bit of energy I had and sprinted up the hill and around the corner for the finish line. As I crossed, I glanced at my watch… 4:17:01. I was not disappointed, but ELATED! I’M FINISHED! I MADE IT! Although I didn’t break 4:15, I did manage to shave 15 minutes off of my marathon best personal record. On Sunday, October 7th, 2012, I set a marathon PR at 4:17:01. So you ask me, will I run another marathon? Hmmmm…Ask me again in about 6 years.