Marathon Mom

Once again, the Chicago Marathon is done and gone, and I’m sitting on the sidelines because I didn’t run the race. Again.

It’s frustrating and makes me think that maybe a marathon isn’t in the cards for me (or at least, not right now). The first time, I couldn’t run because I found out I was pregnant with my oldest. I had problems during that pregnancy early on, so “running 26.2 miles” wasn’t an option. Unlike some people. And this time, it was a hamstring that ached when I walked.

I get so close, yet so far away from my ultimate goal. It’s reached near-obsession status with me. I have to run, I have to do this, and now I’m not sure why that is. It’s just a (really long) race, so get over it. Right?

I think I’m having a hard time letting go because running has been a part of my identity for - literally - decades. I ran because I wanted to, and because it was an easy sport to get into. Now, wahwahwah, I can’t do the one blessed thing I wanted to do. I fail yet again.

Now, I have nothing but awe and respect for every single person who showed up and ran the race on Sunday. That’s hard, yo. Most people did not just wake up on Sunday and think “Let’s do this on a lark.” Running - even if you finished last - takes boatloads of time. It means running in the rain, scheduling your long runs around other events you’d rather do, early-morning runs, and answering the question “Why are you doing that tomfool thing?” an umpteen number of times.

But for myself, I hope to do this, and I want to do this. I avoided coverage of the race because deep down, I was jealous of everyone who ran. They had good legs for the race, they were able to accomplish something I’ve only dreamed of for years. Bitter, much? You bet.

As I’ve mentioned before, I plan to run long-distance races in the future. I’ll probably do something shorter in the next few years and start off with half-marathons, eventually working my up to the big chalupa.

But seriously, Sunday was a difficult day for me. I’m sorry this post is so dour, but there it is. It was hard to “untell” everyone that I wasn’t running. It was hard to swallow the cost of the entry fee (Bank of America doesn’t want participants selling their bibs, so I couldn’t even unload it on someone). It was hard to see news about the marathon, get excited, and then remember “Oh, right; can’t do it.”

But hopefully that’ll change. For now, I’m focusing on running at home and enjoying the last of this crazy-warm weather while it lasts. There are other things to look forward to, and they don't really include running.