Yesterday, I finished the marathon!

I did it. I am a marathoner!

The last two weeks of training didn't go like I hoped, and neither did race day. But, I crossed that finish line, and that it all I care. :-)

Later in the day after my 12-miler (two weeks ago), I started having some nasty pain on the inside of my right knee. It continued to intermittently hurt while I was walking and hurt consistently when I was running. Naturally, this threw me into a panic. I went to a physical therapist who told me it was ok if I wanted to try to run, but that it was going to hurt.

That visit heartened me a bit, but running even 3 miles was still difficult, so I was not feeling very good about my chances of finishing 26.2. I stopped running completely during my final week of training, and lined up in that start corral having no idea how far I would make it.

I crossed the start line with my two friends, Maryam and Maureen. I ran the first mile with them with no pain. However, around the first mile marker, the pain started in my knee. Maureen and Maryam started to pull ahead of me, and I let them go. I knew that my best shot at finishing was going at a pace that felt comfortable.

I was running 9 minutes and walking 1 minute, and I kept that up for quite a while. I passed my mom and sister the first time at mile 4, and I was feeling ok about my chances. The pain in my knee was consistent, but not getting worse.

The next thing I clearly remember is stopping at an aid station at mile 5. I paused for a second to refill one of my water bottles, then started running again.... and the pain was gone. THE PAIN WAS GONE! I apparently had loosened my sore tendons enough that they were working right again. This was a very exciting development. (As an aside, I'll mention that the other thing I remember about that aid station is that it was near Lincoln Park Zoo, and there were a lot of trees around, and most of the trees had a male runner next to them, peeing. I feel that this is one area where men have an unfair advantage. All the women were in line at the port-a-potties.)

I continued running at a 9:1 interval for quite some time, with little or no pain in my knee. I passed my co-worker Rebecca at mile 7.5, my friends Meg and Amy at mile 8.5, and my mom and sister again at mile 11. As I ran past my mom, I shouted, "The pain went away! The pain went away!" There were tons of cheering fans during this section of the race, and tons of spectacles to distract me... older folks waving from the windows at a nursing home, rifle twirlers in Boystown, DJs and live music, and more. I had my name on my shirt, and lots of spectators, volunteers, and even DJs were yelling "Go Katie!" It was a huge help.

I continued like this til about mile 15. Up until that point, I had been going pretty consistently at a 12-minute mile pace. However, somewhere around mile 15, the knee pain returned. It was also about 10am by this time, and the sun had started to get very hot. First, I tried to switch my intervals to 4:1, and was able to do that for a mile or two. But then my pattern kind of disintegrated. I was started to feel a little nauseous, so I had to extend my walk breaks. Unfortunately, this also allowed my knee to tighten up again, and the pain was back in full force, whether I was running or walking.

Near mile 18, I stopped to go to the bathroom and was lucky enough to only have a few people in front of me. The short break reinvigorated me for a while, and I ran pretty consistently at a run 3, walk 2 ratio. I passed my mom and sister again at mile 21, and that was a little boost. At about mile 22, though, I was so hot and my knee hurt so much that I stopped paying attention to my watch at all. I was just past 5 hours, and I knew that even if I had to walk the rest of the way, I would make it in under the 6:30 limit.

I just focused on moving forward any way that I could. I walked until I felt ready to run, then ran as long as I felt able. I just kept moving forward. I passed my friend Jessica at mile 23, and she was wearing a "Katie Rich Rocks" t-shirt. When I hit mile 24, there was an announcer of some kind saying "You have 2 miles to go. You WILL finish the Chicago Marathon. You may be walking, you may be running, and you may have to crawl, but YOU WILL FINISH!" And I'll never forget this... he said, "Isn't that right, Katie in green?" I pumped my fist in the air to tell him he was right. (I am SO glad I wrote my name on my shirt.)

Mile 25 came and went, and then I could see Roosevelt. I ran from 14th street to Roosevelt, then walked up the Roosevelt bridge to the 26 mile marker. I said all throughout my training that no matter how much I had to walk, I really wanted to run that last 0.2. And I'm proud to say that I did. I ran down the other side of the bridge and a block down Columbus, and crossed that finish line with a time of 5:47:43. (And my friend Shannon was there to take my picture.. though unfortunately someone else ran directly into the shot and completely blocked me out.) Tears were in my eyes as I got my medal.

I did it. I finished. I walked a LOT, I fought through a lot of pain, and I was in the slowest 20% to finish, but I don't care. I FINISHED.

Thank you so much to everyone who was out there on the course to cheer me on... those that I knew of course, but also all the kind strangers that called my name, sprayed me with a hose, and handed me ice. I truly, truly would not have finished without all that support.

I'll be nursing a finicky knee, a bruised foot, and some very sore quads for some time, but I'll have that finisher's medal forever. It's been a long, winding journey that I do not regret. I ran the Chicago Marathon on 10/10/10.

Now, if I EVER say I'm going to run another marathon... call me an idiot. :-)