Post marathon letter

1. Dear
Friends
and
Family,
Marathon
day,
Sunday,
October
7th,
has
gone
by
as
quickly
as
it
has
come.
Thank
you
all
so
much
for
your
thoughts,
prayers,
well
wishes,
and
financial
support
as
I
trained
and
ran
the
2012
Chicago
Marathon
for
Team
World
Vision!
I’d
like
to
especially
thank
those
who
donated
to
World
Vision
on
my
behalf.
You
helped
me
raise
$2,350
for
World
Vision’s
clean
water
projects
in
Africa.
This
roughly
translates
to
a
lifetime
supply
of
clean
water
for
47
people!
Thank
you
again
for
making
a
tremendous
difference
in
the
lives
of
others.
Finally,
a
deeply
grateful
and
loving
thanks
goes
to
my
husband,
John,
who
has
been
supportive
of
my
efforts
from
the
beginning,
and
who
along
with
my
dear
sister
in
law,
Stephanie,
braved
the
cold
weather
on
race
day,
held
all
my
post-­‐race
gear
and
nutrition,
and
ran
around
town
just
to
see
me
at
various
parts
of
the
race
route
to
cheer
me
on.
If
you’re
interested
in
how
the
race
went,
please
enjoy
the
synopsis
of
my
race
experience
below.
It’s
been
6
years
since
my
last
marathon
and
my
knees
are
not
what
they
used
to
be.
This
year,
I
made
the
commitment
to
run
for
Team
World
Vision
to
help
change
lives
in
Africa.
As
marathon
day
approached,
all
fear
of
a
hot
2012
Chicago
Marathon
was
quickly
dispelled
by
weather
reports
of
start
time
temperatures
in
the
upper
30’s.
While
I
trained
all
hot
summer
long
in
a
light
tank
top
and
feather-­‐weight
shorts,
I
didn’t
want
to
“try
something
new”
on
marathon
day.
However,
such
a
cold
start
temp
required
an
adjustment
to
my
race-­‐wardrobe
strategy.
I
purchased
a
pair
of
arm
warmers
at
the
new
Niketown
Chicago
store,
(and
coincidentally
got
to
see
a
live
interview
with
Paula
Radcliffe,
former
world
champion
marathoner
and
current
record
holder
for
the
Chicago
Marathon
course
at
2:12:18),
and
dug
up
a
long-­‐sleeve
shirt
that
I
could
leave
on
the
side
of
the
race
course
as
I
got
warmed
up.
I
secretly
hoped
that
the
neon
orange
color
of
my
compression
socks
would
translate
into
some
form
of
warmth.
Dressed
in
a
bright
orange
World
Vision
tank,
blue
and
white-­‐stripped
arm
warmers,
crazy
black
and
blue
zig-­‐zaggy
shorts,
glowing
orange
compression
socks,
royal
blue
hat,
and
with
my
fuel
belt
wrapped
around
my
waist
fully
stocked
with
carefully
planned
sports
nutrition
and
hydration
products,
and
bib
number
attached,
I
was
armed
and
ready
for
battle
(and
there
was
NO
WAY
my
friends
would
miss
me!).
I
trained
all
summer
long
to
the
best
of
my
ability
given
my
bum
right
knee,
and
now
only
faith
could
carry
me
to
the
finish
line
in
one
piece.
John
and
Stephanie
were
planning
to
scoot
around
the
race
route
to
cheer
me
on
at
various
locations,
and
other
friends
indicated
they’d
be
in
specific
spectator
viewing
areas
during
the
race,
as
well.
Looking
for
their
faces
at
these
particular
locations
would
prove
to
be
to
essential
motivators
that
allowed
me
to
break
down
the
26.2
miles
into
mentally
manageable
chunks.
People
have
told
me
that
part
of
the
reason
the
Chicago
Marathon
is
one
of
the
best
domestic
marathons,
rivaling
only
New
York,
is
attributed
to
the
fantastic
cheering

2. crowds
and
invigorating
entertainment
while
running
through
interesting,
culturally
distinct
neighborhoods.
On
race
day,
despite
the
cold
and
wind,
Chicagoans
and
tourists,
alike
were
all
out
in
full
force.
The
race
route
started
near
the
popular
Chicago
lakefront
and
wound
its
way
through
the
downtown
business
districts,
then
up
toward
the
Northside,
going
through
the
scenic
Lakeview
district
at
mile
8,
where
the
entertainment
included
men
(or
very
furry
women)
dressed
up
as
cheerleaders
performing
on
the
stage
and
music
from
live
bands.
We
ran
back
south
for
several
miles,
crossing
over
the
Chicago
River
between
mile
12
and
13,
where
people
were
ringing
cow
bells,
flapping
clappers,
banging
on
drums,
cheering
us
on.
We
then
turned
toward
the
West
Loop
weaving
past
the
United
Center,
home
of
the
Chicago
Bulls
and
Blackhawks,
then
through
the
ethnically
diverse
neighborhoods
between
miles
13-­‐20,
of
Greektown,
Little
Italy,
and
Pilsen
where
Mariachi
music
was
blaring
from
speakers
perched
on
someone’s
front
porch.
The
crowds
there
held
international
flags,
and
shouted
wildly
at
their
native
homeland
runners.
Shortly
after
the
21-­‐mile
mark,
we
were
ushered
under
the
Chinatown
archway
by
dancing
Chinese
dragons
and
lions,
and
familiar,
fragrant
scents
of
fried
noodles
with
sesame
oil
wafting
in
the
air.
There
were
various
signs
and
banners
spectators
waved
from
the
crowd
along
the
race
route.
Some
very
unique
signs
were
complete
with
enlarged
photo
heads
of
their
specific
runner
posted
on
extending
poles.
I
loved
the
comical
signs
that
read,
“Run
Faster,
My
Arms
Are
Getting
Tired,”
or
“Run
Like
You
Stole
Something
“.
In
one
oddly
desolate
area
along
the
route
toward
the
end
of
the
race,
a
woman
held
up
a
sign
that
read,
“Run,
Random
Stranger,
Run”,
and
shouted
“I’m
so
proud
of
you!”
as
she
looked
me
straight
in
the
eyes.
I
didn’t
know
whether
to
laugh
or
cry
at
that
point.
After
Chinatown,
we
took
one
final
turn
down
toward
the
Southside,
where
White
Sox
stadium
beckoned
us,
before
running
turning
east
then
north
again,
up
South
Michigan
Avenue
in
the
South
Loop.
Roosevelt
Road,
the
final
turn
up
toward
the
finish
line,
was
just
a
short
5K
away…My
feet
were
aching
and
my
knees
were
burning...I
was
beat.
I
needed
just
one
last
boost
to
get
me
to
Roosevelt.
Suddenly,
out
of
the
corner
of
my
eye,
a
man
leaped
out
from
the
crowd,
and
yelled,
“Becky!”
My
husband,
John
jumped
out
of
the
crowd
and
ran
bandit
with
me
for
a
few
paces
then
pointing
to
the
crowd
ahead
of
him
on
the
left,
said,
“Steph’s
going
to
take
your
picture—I
think
you’re
going
to
break
4:15!”
I
saw
her
and
put
on
the
goofiest
grin
and
“Hi-­‐De-­‐Ho’d”
her
as
she
snapped
the
picture.
That
was
the
boost
I
needed,
and
as
the
Roosevelt
street
sign
came
into
sight
my
spirits
perked
up.
I
looked
at
my
watch…4:13.
Ugh.
I
don’t
think
I’m
going
to
break
4:15
with
the
last
half
mile
going
uphill.
As
the
crowds
cheered
to
a
deafening
roar,
I
mustered
up
the
last
bit
of
energy
I
had
and
sprinted
up
the
hill
and
around
the
corner
for
the
finish
line.
As
I
crossed,
I
glanced
at
my
watch…
4:17:01.
I
was
not
disappointed,
but
ELATED!
I’M
FINISHED!
I
MADE
IT!
Although
I
didn’t
break
4:15,
I
did
manage
to
shave
15
minutes
off
of
my
marathon
best
personal
record.
On
Sunday,
October
7th,
2012,
I

3. set
a
marathon
PR
at
4:17:01.
So
you
ask
me,
will
I
run
another
marathon?
Hmmmm…Ask
me
again
in
about
6
years.