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Yesterday was the Chicago Marathon. I participated along with about 31,000 other finishers. I finished somewhere in the 13,000s (and I was glad to be in the top half of the field). My friend Sarah went along with me to run the race.

David took me and Sarah to the train station at about 615am (CT) where we caught the orange line downtown. Once we were there, we found a port-o-let, and then finished putting on sunscreen and putting our long-sleeved shirts into our bags for gear check. It was already warm. We were both dressed in shorts and tank tops and we were not at all chilly. I donapos;t know for sure, but I am guessing the temp at the beginning was somewhere around 62 degrees. Once we checked out gear, we wove through the large crowd in the open corral and found a spot to sit in the 9:00 per mile pacing area. The race was already "yellow flagged" at the start.

At about 10 minutes before 8:00am, some people sang the national anthem and they got the wheelchair racers off to start. Five minutes later and elite runners began. Another 5 minutes and it was the open race. I think we crossed the start line about 10 minutes after the gun.

At the start of the race we run through a tunnel a couple blocks long. When we started through there, it was so hot. I had a feeling that it was going to be a tough day. I immediately began sweating. There was no air movement. In the first 3 minutes of running, I had some sense that today was going to be harder than I wanted it to be.

Overall, however, the first 8 miles seemed to sail by. It was warm, but I was getting fluids okay. I was running a bit faster than I thought I wanted to, but I at that time, I didnapos;t feel too bad and I thought it was just beginning of the race jitters. We got through downtown, out past Lincoln Park, past Wrigley and Boystown before I felt myself slipping away from Sarah. Around mile 10 (at a water stop) she looked back and I said to go on, which she did. I was glad to have her company while I could manage it, but I know who had to run the race and I knew I would be better off worrying only about myself.

I wanted to keep running. I wanted to run the whole event and I made it to half marathon (and seeing David and his family at the 13ish mile marker) before I got the next water stop and began walking. It felt weird to walk; my head felt kind of out of it and in a way I was glad I had made the decision to begin walking the water stops. My usual idea of alternating water and gatorade every other stop quickly turned into gatorade and two waters at each stop. I wanted to make sure I was getting enough fluids and that I still felt okay. I didnapos;t want to over do it so much that I was sick or worse.

The race kept going and now it seems like a blur of walking in the water stops and the heat on my shoulders. It was so hot; at some point I realized that I wasnapos;t sweating like I had been at the beginning and I forced myself to slow a bit more. My splits, which had been bouncing between 8:57 and 9:20, were now reading somewhere in the 11:00apos;s almost every mile. I was a bit disappointed about this; I had put in a lot of training. I was hoping to be between 4:00 and 4:15, but as I kept moving, the time kept slipping away.

I had taped my name "CARLA" to the front of my shirt before the race. By about mile 20 the "C" had come off and now all the spectators were cheering "Go ARLA". It was funny to me and I thought if I had been writing a fictional story, this would be a part that I would write something like..."As if in an out of body experience, Arla took over for Carla so that the race could be completed." Maybe it wasnapos;t too far from the truth.

Mile 20 means 10K to go. This is my Monday morning run route. That is all. Easy enough. Right? All the time I was looking for US Cellular Field, home to my Chicago White Sox. I was monitoring the course, hoping at all times to catch a glimpse, knowing that the end would be so soon. Mile 22 was the campus loop to downtown. Piece of cake. At least this is what I was telling myself. I had made it this far. What was 4 more miles. Mile 24. Easy two. Mile 25. Anyone can do one more. Anyone can do one more mile. Of course by this time, my quads were screaming and my right hip was hurting enough that I was limping a bit. I walked a lot in the last 1.2 miles and I think that this was somewhere around 15 minute pace. 4:33:57. Finish line. Done.

It seems ironic to me to write all of this and not think that I am a bit crazy. I do love running, but this race was especially hard for me. I am not sure if it was the heat or some other factor that got in the way of me having a very successful day (which would have been a finish in about 4 hours). I am glad I finished. And I am glad the training is over, for now.

This was my ninth marathon. I used to do marathons twice a year, once in the spring and once in the fall. In the 10 years since my first marathon many things have interrupted my training for one reason or another. I think that I have found that there are other things that I want to focus on (or must focus on) for now. Perhaps someday I will make a return to the old ways...or perhaps I will stick with half marathons. Regardless, I will keep running. Endorphins and bragging rights rule my conscious and keep my feet to the pavement.

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