afterwards

I went for a run on Saturday for the first time since the marathon. I had imagined my first post-race run as a fairly glorious event, but it was actually quite short. I discontinued my usage of ibuprofen during last week and my knees were still achy, limiting the workout to a casual two miles. It did feel good to hit the sidewalks in the brisk fall weather though.

Since I got back from Chicago, the questions I am getting the most (besides general inquiries on the race itself) are:
1) Are you going to run more marathons?
2) What will happen to the blog?

As far as another marathon goes, I really don't know. I think I am going to need some distance from the first one before making that decision. I feel that going through the experience once would surely help the next gauntlet of training (as well as the race) flow more smoothly, and I wouldn't mind being immersed once again in the unique and exciting marathon atmosphere. But deep down, I suspect that it would prove difficult for me to gear up for another four months of such intensive running. So for at least the time being, I have no concrete plans to marathon again, though the thought of losing my current level of fitness over the winter does make me a little sad (echoes of Flowers for Algernon). Even though there's no reason for me to be this fit, I kind of like knowing that I could run 20 miles if the need arose.

For now, my immediate plans are to prepare for a Thanksgiving Day 5K (if my body has forgiven me), then get fattened up a bit over the holidays. I probably won't do a lot of running over the winter, but I doubt I will be at a loss for ways to occupy my time. Among other things, I think it is time to start assembling the skeleton of screenplay 2.

Not sure about the blog at this point. At the very least, I think the runblog in its current form has a few posts left in it. We'll see what happens after that.

26.2

I should have posted this earlier than Thursday night/Friday morning, but it took a while to write. I'd like to recount the events of Sunday morning...

After a somewhat restless sleep, Jeff and I awoke to our cellphone alarms at around 5:30. We both went about our preparations, walking around Jeff's half-lit apartment like ghosts. I had some cereal and a banana for breakfast, and after dressing and lacing up, Jeff's parents (who were in town for the weekends) wished us well and we went to catch the train.

There were runners on the train platform, more on the train, and larger volumes on the streets, tributaries and rivers joining to seek the ocean at Grant Park. We probably arrived at the park a bit past 7:00 and milled around for a bit. We made one last pit stop at the wall of port-o-lets and then headed for the 8:00 minute pace section, stretching along the way.

Once we had settled on a starting spot, any nervousness kind of melted away. It was replaced by the simple knowledge that I would be running for a long time and that running is something I am okay with. It was a very festive atmosphere, music playing over the loudspeakers and runners getting loose. There was a sense of belonging. Running a marathon might have been a crazy idea, but I was surrounded by people who were just as crazy as me. At least as far as running was concerned, these were my brothers and sisters.

The announcer came over the speakers to start the wheelchair participants, then the elite marathoners. Around 8:00, the line began to move forward and we began our march towards the starting line.

Jeff and I crossed the line and began jogging. And although we weren't thinking about it, the chips on our shoelaces activated and began their communication with some computer somewhere, recording our split times.

Let me start by saying that the first ten miles were great fun. We made casual conversation, Jeff pointing out notable Chicago sites as we weaved through the crowds (which weren't all that bad where we were). We were both in high spirits. Jeff threw a cup of water in my face at one of the initial water stops and when we saw our families at mile five I felt moved to blow them theatrical kisses. This sort of activity was maybe a bit naive considering the distance we had left to run, but we were at least enjoying ourselves. Also, during this first section of the race, I believe I logged my 500th mile of running for the year. Yikes.

After taking the first few miles pretty slow due to the heavier traffic, we settled into a nice rhythm, maybe a shade under 8:00 per mile. I was feeling very good and said as much to Jeff after we had gotten the first two of miles under our feet. He laughed because of how early in the race I was saying this, but my point was that in the last month or so, something in my legs, be it the knees or ankles, was usually in some level of discomfort even after a short distance. That wasn't the case Sunday, all systems were "go". Anyhow, by the halfway point, we were both cruising and on pace to hit 3:30.

I should mention here that the fans were incredible. I have always liked Chicago, the sprawling metropolis that retains a Midwestern charm, but after the 2008 marathon it will always have a special place in my heart. The marathon's slogan was "twenty-nine neighborhoods, one world class race" and the course indeed provided a good tour of the different areas of the city and their personalities. The one thing that was consistent was the enthusiasm from the spectators. Countless people lined the course, shouting, cheering, waving. Speakers were put in windows and pumped past advisable volume levels. A saw a guy with a garden hose in his front lawn, offering water to anyone who wanted some. There were cheerleading teams who sang to the runners. Paper dragons were held aloft in Chinatown.

Most impressive were the abundant handmade signs. A few of my favorites:
Chafe now, brag forever!
You are all Kenyans in my eyes. (there were a bunch of signs based on this general theme)
Your feet hurt because you're kicking so much ass!

The fans also provided encouragement and a sort of accountability as the race began to get tougher. After the halfway point Jeff and I both started to tire and became much less talkative. He at one point told me to go on ahead, though slowing down a little seemed much more appealing than forging on without an ally. However, we lost each other at one of the next water stops, probably between miles 16 and 17. I wouldn't end up seeing him until much later in the day.

Wayne had remarked maybe a month ago that I might find it challenging in the marathon to be running without music, since I had my iPod with me on most of my long training runs. At the time I figured that there would be enough external stimuli during the event to keep me pumped up, and while that was mostly true, Wayne made a good point. The running was definitely easier when I would pass by a band or a soundsystem (Icky Thump and Uptown Girl were highlights), though these occurrences were less frequent than the water stops. I guess the point of this paragraph is just that I really like music.

So I was less than ten miles from the finish line and feeling a bit overwhelmed. No Jeff, scarce amounts of music, and really I had no idea exactly where I was.

Also, I was getting tired. The Power Gel distribution zone at mile 18 was a welcome sight and this time I had no problem ingesting said substance. I needed it. I began changing my behavior a bit too. After generally alternating between water and Gatorade at the handout locations, I started making sure I snatched cups of both, and walked through the stops to make sure I was getting all of it into my body (and to try and reassure my flagging spirit). I tried to stride out and push any pain into the recesses of my mind, and for a while I think it worked, though it soon became too real to just ignore.

From the 20 mile mark onward, a lot of my memories run together. The night before the race I had written my donors' names down my arm. I tried to devote a minute or so of thought/prayer each mile for a particular donor (there were 27, which was convenient), but at this point it was difficult to read from my sweaty arm, concentrate enough to think about anything besides the race, or even to do the math to find out whose name belonged to the current mile. Bananas made their appearance around mile 20, cut into easily opened sections. This was a welcome development, but my water breaks became increasingly drawn out. I had started the race cheerfully hopping on any nearby non-crushed empties, but now just walked disheveled through the fields of discarded cups, with more of an effort required each time to start running again. At one point I halted my progress for a bathroom break, more because I wanted a rest than out of necessity. I also tried stretching for a few seconds, but it was a halfhearted attempt and I didn't want to lose much time, so I kept going.

By the time I reached the 22-23 mile range, I had slowed down significantly. The course made one of its last turns onto Michigan Avenue, a grueling, nearly three mile stretch. My feet felt like shredded tires and once in a while my left quad felt as if it were starting to seize (this was a very unfamiliar pain). I don't recall ever feeling that broken. I tried translating the remaining distance into lengths that I was familiar with back home, but it still felt so distant, like the finish line was one I would asymptotically approach but never reach.

I began taking short breaks to walk, just because. There couldn't have been many of these and they couldn't have lasted for very long, but I really don't remember. Despite all of the logic and motivation remaining in my brain telling me how sweet it would feel after the race if I just kept running, there were times it felt impossible. And I was by no means the only one that had slowed to a stroll. It had by this time become a very hot day in Chicago. The one thing that I was able to repeatedly use to get my feet running again was the almost primal need I felt to get past the line in under four hours.

And somehow, the remaining mileage kept dropping, from four, to three, to two (though the encouraging shouts of the spectators sometimes conflicted as to the exact amount). Around this time, a runner nearby called out, "okay boys, shuffle it in," which at least got me to smile. I kept shuffling, almost oblivious to the growing number of spectators (this was truly the homestretch).

I was walking as I saw that the course was about to turn off of Michigan Avenue onto a slight incline. If I had studied the map more closely beforehand, I would have been aware that I was about to hit 26 miles. At any rate, I felt that I should try to run up the hill, so I picked my feet up and made the turn. I am glad I did because halfway up I caught sight of my family (I must have looked like a shell of my mile 5 self). As the road crested, the course made a 90 degree left and I turned to see the red finish banner and nothing between me and it but a gentle downward slope.

I think my face must have visibly brightened when I saw this. I looked around at my fellow runners, as if to say, "look, there it is, the finish line does actually exist!" I crossed the line at 3:53 and tried to manage a cool pose, but it probably didn't work.

So I had finished the marathon, but the finishing runners were encouraged to keep moving. As I walked I collected the following items: bottled water, a banana, a bagel, my medal, a strawberry cereal-type bar, and a bag of ice (which I placed on my head cause I saw others doing the same). For those who felt cold rather than hot, volunteers were passing out those silver emergency blankets.

I found a spot on the curb and watched people walk by as I ate my bagel (this took around twenty minutes). There were times I felt close to breaking down emotionally, and had I seen a familiar face I probably would have lost it. After finishing the bagel I stood back up (it should be noted that standing and sitting were now Herculean tasks), took a moment to make sure I had my balance, and kept walking. Past the runner equipment drop-off tent, past the fire engine that was spraying a cooling mist, until I finally reached the G-H kiosk at Butler Field, site of the after race party. I sat in the grass, with a view of the Chicago skyline, and continued to eat.

At one point I felt I should make an effort to stand up again. After doing so, I found myself back on the ground a few seconds later, with only a vague recollection of the intervening moments. Now, going in, if I had known I would have walked short sections at the tail end of the race, I probably would have been a little disappointed. But the fact that I nearly blacked out was a good indication that I left it all on the course, as the saying goes. I decided to keep sitting, even when my parents and sister arrived a couple of minutes later. They understood.

We shared some nice family time as I continued to not move, besides shifting the ice pack to different parts of my body. I told them about the race and they shared the experience of being spectators (which sounded pretty entertaining). Eventually Jeff's parents found us, but there was no sign of Jeff. It was not until I took the train back to his apartment (when my family and I parted ways) that I saw him. He had evidently come in about 12 minutes after me, and had been whisked off to 20 minutes of pampering by concerned aid volunteers after he showed some signs of fatigue after crossing the line. I am 100% sure there were people that needed assistance more than Jeff, but it made for a good story.

Back at the apartment, Jeff and I happily swapped tales for a while. I then showered, wolfed down some Quizno's that his parents brought back for us, and packed my belongings so that I could make my way to the Goetschs. I said my goodbyes and walked to the CTA station wearing my medal, like a giddy, satisfied dork.

So the statistics: I ran 26.2 miles in 3:46:37 (my true "chip" time based on when I crossed the starting line). Out of 31,401 finishers, I placed 4047th (which is hard to take in fully because I did not at all feel like I was that close to the "front" of the race). I am happy as a clam with how things turned out and glad I committed back in the younger days of 2008 to this experience. I am sure in the days and months ahead I'll be able to reflect more on the marathon, but for now I am content to have run well and finished. Marathon complete.

say a prayer for surfboy

This post may come across as a little uneven. A lot of loosely connected thoughts. I'm here at my friend Jeff's apartment in Chicago, a couple of hours before bedtime. I wonder how I will sleep.

We spent the afternoon downtown, picking up our numbered bibs and other giveaways at the Health and Fitness Expo (where I met up briefly with Dylana and her friends). It was a fun atmosphere, sweat-wicking fabric and energy drinks as far as the eye could see. I think it helped get me into a racing mood.

So here we go. There are definitely reasons I should be worried about tomorrow. I can't say that this is something I've done before. I haven't. And I can't say that my body hasn't let me down at all over the last few months. It has. But at the moment, my legs feel rested and ready to go. I made it to race day prepared and healthy, which was the goal of the training all along.

And really, if this were easy, there would be no point in doing it. I don't want this to feel like just another run, it's the 2008 Chicago Marathon! So in that sense, I'm excited. And it will be fun to run with Jeff. It's been just about a decade since we suited up in Bay's blue and white for the cross country state meet (I'd have never guessed we'd be running together in a marathon ten years later).

So it may be tough, but it sure won't be boring. And if you find yourself sitting at the breakfast table or in a church pew tomorrow morning and wonder what mile marker Hrubik's at, feel free to shoot up a prayer for him and his some 40,000 odd comrades.

hope in our hearts, wings on our heels

I set off for Chicago tomorrow afternoon, and it sort of feels like it's time.

After feeling overwhelmed earlier in the week, I've calmed down somewhat. I have been a bit preoccupied with a crazy week as I've tried to balance a healthy sleeping schedule with several early morning conference calls at work. I suppose the upside is that after this, the marathon might feel relaxing.

But mostly, I think my calm has its roots in my trying to have a better outlook on the race itself. Multiple people have told me that they think the race will be fun, and though they won't be the ones running, it's a good thing for me to hear. I ought to think of this as the grand capstone to my months of training instead of an obstacle.

After work today I went for my last training run, an almost comically short two miles. After some dinner I sat down for a viewing of Chariots of Fire to pump myself up for the weekend. I can understand if some might consider it a fairly boring movie, but it did win Best Picture back in '81. And some scenes give my goosebumps goosebumps. The beach running intro for sure, but also a segment three-quarters in, when Eric Liddell reads from the book of Isaiah over a montage of the Sunday Olympic heats:

Hast thou not known? Hast thou not heard? The everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth fainteth not, neither is weary. He giveth power to the faint, and to them that have no strength, He increaseth might. But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles. They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and not faint.

Sounds good to me.

on the lighter side

I don't know if this is something common that happens to people when they start running regularly, but boy, I sure love Gatorade. In my mind, it's head-and-shoulders above its competition in the sports drink market.

One thing I do find kind of goofy though is the number of different product lines currently offered by the folks at Gatorade. A while ago, I thought it would be a fun activity to sample the different varieties and record my impressions. My running schedule paired with Giant Eagle's summer-long sale ($1 for a 32 ounce bottle) made it a relatively simple task.

So over the last few months I've tried a bunch of flavors and have chosen one from each product line to review. This includes standard Gatorade, Frost, Fierce, A.M., Rain, X-Factor, and G2. The categories I did not test were Xtremo (which I have never actually seen) and Tiger. Seriously, does Tiger Woods need his own line of Gatorade flavors? Does the guy even sweat?

Anyway, here are my findings. I used a four-star rating system.

Gatorade
Lemon-Lime

This is as far as I know the original flavor of Gatorade, and it's easy to understand how it has stood the test of time. A zesty initial rush of lemon is balanced by a mellow lime undertow, resulting in a pleasing, refreshing whole. No bells and whistles, just a solid (but not overpowering) flavor that hearkens back to a simpler time.

* * * of * * * *

Gatorade Frost
Riptide Rush

The purple color would seem to connote an attempt at grape, and while grape is (I think) the prominent taste involved, it is also enhanced by noticeable blueberry notes. It is an elusive flavor, clouded further by use of the word "frost" (is it supposed to taste colder?). But all mysteries aside, it's been a favorite of mine for a few years.

* * * of * * * *

Gatorade Fierce
Strawberry

This one is an all-out assault on the taste buds. Strawberry taken to its syrupy extreme, with a kick that seems to cling to the tastebuds and overstays its welcome on the palette. It tastes kind of like the fruit snacks I used to eat as a kid. I find this "Fierce" concept too intense and pretty abhorrent, but I don't know, maybe Generation Y loves the stuff.

* of * * * *

Gatorade A.M.
Orange-Strawberry

This product line is advertised as Gatorade, but with morning flavors. And indeed, though the label says "orange-strawberry", one definitely gets echoes of blended citrus juices, as hints of orange, pineapple, and tangerine combine to form a pleasant, tropical sort of medley. It comes off as very natural tasting (insofar as this is Gatorade we are discussing). A nice flavor, although it's a little too "Saturday morning breakfast" for my tastes.

* * of * * * *

Gatorade Rain
Tangerine

The "Rain" line of flavors is a really wonderful development, at the opposite end of the spectrum from the "Fierce" offerings. Like Gatorade mixed with rainwater, in a good (metaphorical) way. Tangerine carries a light, pleasing, popsicle-like flavor that ripples refreshingly over the tongue and finishes smooth. This and "Rain" Lime may be my favorites in the entire Gatorade stable.

* * * * of * * * *

Gatorade X-Factor
Lemon-Lime + Strawberry

I have no idea why Gatorade introduced an X-Factor line or what it is supposed to be. The lemon, lime, and strawberry flavors are all present here, but carry some extra baggage. My initial impression was that of salt, so maybe X-Factor contains X-tra electrolytes? An explanation would maybe help justify the flavoring, but without one, the taste is just a bit unnerving.

* of * * * *

Gatorade G2
Grape

G2 is Gatorade's low calorie line. This particular flavor features a layered, candy-grape type taste. It has a very dry finish. Pretty tasty overall, though it carries a little bit of the artificial tang that is typical of Gatorade's competitors (Powerade, Vitamin Water, etc).

* * of * * * *

So that wraps it up. Going forward I feel much more confident in my understanding of Gatorade's flavors and my subsequent Gatorade purchasing choices. For what it's worth.

"he's more machine than man now"

With yesterday's 8 miler finished, my training is pretty much done. Here's the schedule for week 18:

Tuesday - 3 miles
Wednesday - 4 miles
Thursday - 2 miles
Sunday - 26.2 miles

I guess that since the marathon is so much longer than any other race I've run, it makes some sense that I'm already starting to get nervous. But I'm hoping this week's short runs will give me a chance to find the swagger that typified the early stages of my training, even though it was coming largely from a position of ignorance. It was fun back then to have the feeling I was bulletproof, but I know better now. I am in shape, certainly, but also well acquainted with the fragile state of the human body. My once bionic legs now feel very weathered and may be ready to call it a year after Sunday.

I've put in the miles though, so that should lend me some grizzled confidence (if not a cocksure attitude, which may not be healthy anyway). There is nothing else I can really do to prepare this week, besides eating well and getting enough sleep. So I'll do that and do my best Sunday. There's nothing really to be afraid of, besides the pain and fatigue...

Deep breaths, Hrubik.

deep thoughts

A few years ago I started writing a short film called The Runner (Sreenath, if you are reading this, I have not yet given up). It basically follows a guy on a run while he shares his thoughts in voiceover narration.

The irony is that, though I often think that I will be able to ponder deep thoughts as I run, it's hard to muster the necessary focus for that kind of activity. My thoughts never go much further than how I am feeling, or the environment/scenery/weather.

Not that this is a bad thing. In fact, it may be one of the fundamental reasons I like running.

In my daily life I often find myself busier than I think I should be. I flit like a moth between different tasks and activities, balancing demands and expectations of myself and others. Running is one way of disconnecting, it gives me the rare opportunity to just "be". While out on a run, my only responsibility is to put one foot in front of the other. There's not much else to think about, and like I said, not much else my mind can wrap itself around even if I wanted it to. I am at home in my own skin, using the limbs that are frequently dormant during the 40 hour work week. No business to attend to, no other problems to solve, just doing something I'm good at, something I like to do.

And really, I think it even goes beyond the simple question of like/dislike. By now, at this point in my life, running is part of who I am. Lacing up the sneakers, stretching, the after-workout Gatorade, these are all meaningful rituals. Though it involves a lot of movement and activity, a good run often lends a sense of calm and perspective, and in that way, though by the end of a jog I have "produced" nothing of significance, it is often the best possible use of my time. Perhaps the most accurate way to state my feelings is not, "I like running," but rather, "I am a runner."

I think I'm sort of rambling, so instead of trying to wrap this up in some concise way, I'll leave you with a video link that fits nicely. I have a soft spot for television commercials, cause the good ones are almost like little short films. And this is a pretty good one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bdeEPhdpay0