Running: A History

I mentioned a little bit of my running background in my first post, but I wanted to go a little more into the backstory (and post some hilarious photos of my first race ever). 

First things first, I’m a self-made runner, meaning I was NOT any kind of athlete growing up. I certainly never participated in track, cross country, or any sort of organized sports (I was actually a dedicated marching band geek). As previously mentioned, I’d never run more than 2 miles until my freshman year of college when I boldly, bravely randomly signed up to do the 2007 Chicago Half Marathon with my roommate. Pretty much everyone I talked to thought I was insane. I heard a few thoughts to the tune of “you’re not a runner, how could you possibly run 13 miles?” 

At first, I kinda hated it. But I continued to follow my plan (Hal Higdon, what what?) because I refused to let the whopping $65 registration fee go to waste. Along the way I got hundreds of shin splints and engaged in my first battle with shin splints, but I eventually did it. And ran all 13.1 miles. I recall feeling like it was one of the most surprising accomplishments of my life at the time. When I crossed the finish line I remember thinking, ‘oh yeah, everyone that doubted me? you can suck it!’ I also thought, if  I can do this, I can literally do anything I put my mind to. If I can make my small, unathletic self into a runner, what else can I make of myself. Perhaps a slight generalization, but I’ve tried to keep this attitude going. Cheesy? 100%, but I don’t really care. 

That's me, the tiny person in teal. Fun fact, I still wear those black shorts to this day. Welp, that's embarrassing.

Perhaps I should mention the tall, blonde drink 'a water next to me? My freshman year (and all of college) roomie, Tracy. 

We did it! This photo makes me laugh to this day.

After that race, I was hooked. When I was running, it was infinitely easier to deal with stress, my emotions, and staying out of crazytown. Breakups were easier to deal with by running my face off to a Fall Out Boy album (ha, college), rather than eating a pint of ice cream. 

I mean, look how excited I am.

So, I kept running on and off and eventually did the Chicago half again in 2011. At the time, I was going through a truly awful breakup, and running was the only thing that allowed me to deal. At all.  I don't remember much about the race, other than feeling like each step was getting me closer to feeling OK about life. A few steps closer to where I wanted to be, this beautiful city.

The only photo from the race. Clearly illustrating my excellent photography skills.

 Shortly after that, I moved to Chicago and finally started to feel like a person again. Ready to get after life and not be sad! I felt like I owed myself more of a challenge, a half was no longer enough to provide that sense of overwhelming accomplishment. So, I registered for the 2012 Chicago Marathon. More on my first marathon soon, it deserves it's own post of rambling.

OK enough already. So, that’s how I got to this point. Running my second marathon, hoping for a 4 hour finish. Next up, I’m going to try to explain the love/hate relationship that fuels addiction/mental illness that is marathon training.