I ran the Chicago Marathon
To fly or not to fly
As soon as I hung up with the airline, I knew I had made a huge mistake. I thanked them for understanding, and immediately started sobbing.
I was being rational and smart. I had cancelled my tickets to Chicago. This was the right thing to do after all. I was injured. I had not been able to train for a month.
Even so, I couldn't put it to bed. Like muscle memory, I continued going through the preparations of someone who may still be running a marathon. I went to doctors appointments to see if I was healthy enough to make an attempt*. I picked out throw-away clothes. I asked everyone I knew their opinion, even though I had just cancelled the tickets.
My course of action started to come into focus one night while talking to some friends. Oh, definitely do not run, a fellow runner was advising me, the last thing you want is a DNF. I never start something I don’t know I can finish.
My gut dropped. How sad, I thought- to only ever attempt things you already know the ending of. I started to realize that I had been asking the wrong question. Chicago, to me, wasn't about the ending- it was about the beginning. Anyone can finish a race but not everyone has the guts to start.
Later that night, I sat with my husband Andy as the clock struck 11. We had one hour to cancel the hotel room. The race was 72 hours away. I think there is a reason why we've waited so long to cancel, Andy said. He was right.
By now, you've probably realized that this race was never about running. Just before training started, my family had received some news that flipped our world upside down. Things felt uncertain and fragile. I took my worries on my runs, and crafted them over miles into something positive and productive. My injury threatened to strip that away. If I could only just start the race, I could take back some of that power. I could cheer my teammates on. It would be worth it.
Another carrot at the end of my stick was my childhood best-friend. I had convinced her to run Chicago with me, and she was going to attempt a PR. We had leaned on each other throughout training, and I wanted to be there for her.
With all of this in mind, we booked new flights and started packing. I was going to run the Chicago Marathon, even if it was just for a mile.
The Race
I met my friend, JoAnne, in the lobby of the hotel. It was cold, but I had decided to wear shorts. It was a power move. I never wear shorts unless I am speed training, and I wanted to feel strong and light. I also had decided to run in compression socks for the first time, in hopes that it would hold my injured leg together.
The shake-up in my gear helped me reframe my outlook. This race wasn't something I was going to execute in precision, it was an adventure to unfold. I was prepared to drop out at any mile or go on forever. Andy was meeting up with JoAnne's family, and together they would cheer all around the city- every 3 miles to make sure I had the support to exit if needed. Heroes.
My friend and I were in different corrals, but with some sneaky moves, we were able to start together. We had gone to a pace group talk, and decided to run with the 4:30 pacer. This pace was easy enough that I could keep up while still ensuring a PR for JoAnne. We made new friends and started our race.
Our leader went out too fast, which made me nervous and tested my injury. Even so, we had a ton of fun. I felt some discomfort, but not as much as I had anticipated. We waved at spectators, sang along to Britney Spears, and talked the time away.
When we saw our families at mile 13, I knew I was going to finish the race. I was slowing, but mostly from being out of shape. My friend was going strong, and I didn't want her worrying about me. I kissed Andy, took a banana, and told my friend to keep going. My goal from here on out was to take it easy and have fun.
The rest of the race went on as marathons usually do. There were miles that seemed to last forever and miles that sped by. I took my time, walking frequently and even pausing to use the bathroom.
When I saw our families at mile 23, I gave everyone a giant hug. My leg was getting angrier but I was still jazzed. At this point, the quickest way to exit the race was through the finish line, and I was going to make it.
Right before the last 400m, I spotted the PPTC crew. Their cheers gave me the power to finish strong, and before I knew it I was raising my hands above my head as I crossed the finish line.
On the other side, I slowly limped over to JoAnne and our families and squeezed myself into Andy's arms. I felt... shocked! Did I really just do that!? Did that really just happen? I felt the love of my family, friends, and teammates wrapping around me like a giant blanket.
Caitie actually finished! Andy texted our friends. Of course she did! That's our Caitie! They replied. I pinched myself.
So why did I run this race, when I shouldn’t have? The reasons are too big to articulate here. With all of the upsets in my personal life, running the race forced me to embrace the uncertainty of it all. No one knows what is around the next corner, what tomorrow will bring. We don’t have control over the ending of our stories, our days, or our marathons- only the decision to start them. I’m glad I chose to try. I’ll keep trying, and starting, even if that means I take on a few failures. To me, I think, the journey alone is worth it.
In a year sprinkled with lows, finishing the Chicago Marathon was a major high. I am and will be forever thankful to the army of individuals who helped me get there. Our crew who ran around Chicago to support us, JoAnne (who PRd!) for being my race buddy, Andy for countless salt baths, and my team and MTG coaches for their friendship and trouble shooting. Thank you, thank you, thank you.