When it rains, it pours.

When it rains, it pours – and oh boy – it poured on Saturday morning.

August 21st – 49 days to marathon Sunday.

Feeling frozen in bed by sheer exhaustion, I slowly woke up not looking forward to my 18 mile training run. Recently, Life has dealt out a few weeks of sleepless nights. That, in conjunction with the rain outside, wasn’t necessarily motivating me to leave the comfort of my bed.

Alas, the inevitable self-inflicted guilt trip began to settle on my mind. Anyone who has trained for a marathon before will tell you, if there is a training run you are going to skip, that training run better not be your long run!

I labored my way out of the warm cocoon I had made in my sheets, and began to get ready for what I had already decided was going to be a dreadful run. If the previous weeks were any indication of things to come, I knew it was going to be a rough 2+ hours on the lakefront path.
Nearly 1 mile into my run (only 17 more to go), my shoes were water logged. Each step created its own wave - flowing back and forth in my soles of my shoes. My feet grew heavy soon thereafter.

The sun began to peek out of the clouds around 7 AM. At that point, I was nearing mile 8 – 10 more squishy footed miles to go. I reached McCormick Place at which time, I happily turned around to begin the trek home.

Home meant out of my now 15 pound shoes (well… at least they felt that way), a shower, ice packs, dry clothes, a couch, and an ice cold…lemonade. Now, I was motivated!

At 8:25, I was officially home free – stretching, wringing out my drenched clothing, and amazed that I had survived the previous 2 hours and 25 minutes without quitting. A real testament to show that when it pours, throw on some floaties, and make sure you kick it in. You’ll be glad you did in the end!



I know I run like a girl. Try to keep up!