Race Day

It was a crisp, windy morning on the day of the race. By the time I got to Grant Park, the elite runners had already heard the starting gun and were halfway to Lincoln Park before I even had a chance to use a porta-potty. Pam met me in the early morning light. I was able to give her all my belongings including an extra change of clothes, snacks, water and a pill box full of ibuprofen, of which I've already consumed three. The guards at the entrance let Pam into the runner area (I suspect they thought we were an interracial couple and looked at us like we were endangered pandas in need of extra time). We said our final goodbyes and I asked Pam to deliver my stuff to my parents if/when they decide to wake up and show up in their designated support area.

Line to the bathroom was very long!

I was nervous. The candid photos taken of the event showed a hunched over man in a white sweater with a mortified face feigning pain. Aly sent a text with her photo. She was a few meters ahead and had a similar look on her face only with a little more confidence and excitement. It also helped that everyone from family to friends to regular mic comedians were sending me messages telling me "good luck."

If there was a starting pistol or a air horn, I didn't hear it. The crowd started shuffling towards the starting gate then shuffled past it without much fanfare or difference in pace. I was adjusting my headphones and trying to find the best song to get me in the mood for the longest run of my friggin' life all while dodging people going at a slower pace. I found a good tune: Creep with a T-Shirt by Portugal the Man. And with that, I started my first marathon ever.

I saw my sister and her family before mile 2; the first friendly faces on my trek. I hadn't broken into a sweat yet so I was able to wave and give a big 'ol smile before cresting over State Street and towards the downtown bridge. I skipped the first water station fearing hyponatremia and decided to hit only every other station so I wouldn't become too full of fluids. For snacks however, all bets were off and I ate my first stroop waffle before downtown was in the rear view.

The first leg of the marathon stretched northward all the way to Wrigleyville before plummeting back down a parallel street. Every once in a while, I looked to my left and saw people running in between buildings in the opposite direction. I kept a slow, steady pace through the first 10 miles, stopping only once to adjust my headphones. I was running on pure adrenaline and wanted to gun it like Brigid Kosgei did earlier that day. Of course that would have probably led directly to my death so I thought better of it.

Pshhh, walk in the park!

As I rounded the corner onto Broadway I glanced at the mile marker that had a big red 8 on it. 8?! That was just 8 back there?! What helped though, was seeing the same signs from earlier in the race; "Boss Women Run Marathons," "Run Forrest Run," "Worst Parade Ever!" This meant the same people were shuttling back and forth on CTA and were making an effort to support whoever was also keeping my pace.

My favorite poster was one that said "Keep Running or I'll Drop This Sign!" and it was being carried by a guy who looked like his pants and underwear were down below his knees - Boystown amirite? The energy around Broadway and Clark was elating. Passing Belmont there were stages on each side with rival drag queen groups belting out motivational ballads. The streets were filled with cheering crowds reminding me that no matter how much my feet hurt, the entire city had my back today.

As I went down Sedgwick things started to look very familiar. One of my favorite mics, the Greenlight takes place on Sundays at a local watering hole a few feet from the turn. That's when I saw Maisie yelling and screaming in support. She never told me she'd be looking out for me but there she was being a kid sister with a heart of gold. Immediately when I saw her, I got a bit of a boost and was able to breeze through North Wells with relative ease; despite the fact that is was an unbroken 2 mile drag.

Near the end of Wells I regrouped with my sister and her family. I saw them before they saw me and I yelled at my brother-in-law to grab their attention. She skipped over to the crowd line and gave me a big hug. It was just before the thirteenth mile which I noted as being just shy of halfway. I could feel the sweat cooling on my back every time I stopped or stumbled past the shadow of a building. I just kept going, if for no other reason than I didn't want to become a flesh flavored Popsicle. Along that frigid stint I started thinking about all the things that led me to this point - the point which I need not remind you was the furthest I've run. I never made my 20 mile long run.

I started thinking about the weight loss, the awkward social interactions and late night comedic bombs, my ex and all the negative emotions that surround her. My guilt and anguish of what was lost when I left Arizona. Then something happened. I looked up at the Willis Tower and was reminded of the events of the nights before. The Friday night mic I hosted was one of the better ones we've done. What's more, I went karaoke-ing with friends including Raquel who had come to town to see one of her favorite bands. The fact that I was running a marathon the weekend of, was just a happy coincidence. Life was good.

I like snuggles.

I also snickered to myself over what transpired on Saturday night. Raquel and her gorgeous friend - let's call her Brie, had spent the night at my place and I graciously offered the bed while I took the couch. Feeling the freezing cold of a stately but old Chicago apartment in the fall, Brie suggested after the concert that we all huddle together in my bed half-naked in a cuddle puddle - a wholesome activity undermined by the phrase in the same way if you were to call a hotdog a dong sandwich. Nothing explicit happened but the sensation of being held by two attractive women in the comfort of my own bedroom was so relaxing and nice. Thinking of that - memories of my ex all but disappeared.

After another dip into downtown the race took us all to the West Loop passing Malcolm X College and the Whitney Young School. Pam said she'd be cheering from the sidelines along with a group from her school who were there to support another teacher. I never caught her but she assured me through text that my stuff had been dropped off to my parents. I was stumbling through the UIC area when a phone call interrupted my playlist. 

"Hello?" 
"You're making great time!" 

It was my mother. Not sure what possessed her to call me at that moment but every runner within earshot was tickled pink by the fact that my mom had called me in the middle of a marathon. "Mom, I have to control my breathing." "Okay, okay, where did you say you wanted to go afterwards though?" "Mom! I'm kinda busy." "Okay, text us later. We have your bag." "Okay cool, bye!"

Youch!!!

I tried to follow the advice of a sign I saw that said, "Find a Cute Bum and Follow It," but I'm embarrassed to say by mile 19 I was running on fumes. The sweat caking itself to my shirt had sabotaged the bandaids on my nipples. They just peeled away and drowned leaving me bunching my shirt like I was snapping suspenders like a Hispanic Steve Urkel. I went to the nearest medical tent and tried to reapply new bandaids but they simply flecked off within a minute like discount refrigerator magnets. I'd have to finish the race looking like I was clenching pearls.

By the time we got to Pilsen, the crowd was handing out bananas cut into thirds. I grabbed every piece of fruit offered as my body's moved me forward. At that point it felt like I was falling and my legs were just trying to keep up with the inertia of my torso. I was at my nadir. I walked and limped through the streets I was most familiar with - 18th, Blue Island, Halsted. All of it was a blur of lively mariachi music and sticky asphalt which had been stained by an ocean of Gatorade. I was still clutching my shirt when I saw the big red 20 in the distance. I hated that 20...I knew there was 6.2 left. Fml.

A funny, unexpected and weirdly inspiring moment came in the form of an out of shape white guy who sauntered a few paces ahead of me. A woman waiting on the sidelines extended her arm with half a banana, her eyes inviting him to snatch it from her hand. About four seconds before the two would meet, a man held out a Modelo right behind her. Naturally our runner went with the Modelo, shrugged his shoulders, laughed to himself and kept going. I found that moment almost too precious to bare. It was a candid moment of comedic bliss that was so perfect and so innately human that I felt joy just being near it. By that point the wall as it were, was starting to crack.

But the wall wasn't going away just yet - I still had Chinatown to contend with. By the time, I passed the entrance gate, my arms and legs were so heavy that I just let my nipples chafe. I wasn't running fast enough to turn them into lit firecrackers anyway. It was at this point better trained athletes started to maneuver past me. The 5:30 pacers which had been behind me the entire time, came coursing through the field which added to my disappointment in the moment. My hope to make it under 5 hours was completely gone.

I crossed the bridge along the Dan Ryan which served as one of the few elevated points in the race. My muscles and bones creaked as I made my way across into Bronzeville. When I rounded that corner, a man held a sign that said, "At This Point It's Just a 5K," the greatest framing device and motivation I got thus far. "I've done 5K's before," I said to myself. This will be nothing! My pace quickened.

Mile 25. My parents were waiting for me along with the rest of the Team Latinos cheering section. They had been driven all weekend by the Clancy's, long suffering family friends who lived in the northern suburbs and were arguably more excited to see me run than mom and pop. Bob Clancy even held a sign in support which I found out later was made by the Latinos group. I stopped for a moment.

"Did Pam give you my bag?" 
"Yeah." 
"I need ibuprofen." 
"Well, we don't have that." 
"It's in the bag." 
"The bag is in the car." 
"Oh, well I guess I'll just die then."

And with that I limped forward turning around for an instant to ask if anyone will be there with a blanket at the finish line.

South Loop. The sun had disappeared leaving a sky of grey clouds. A gust of wind flooded the narrow avenue between the buildings coaxing me to audibly say, "Really Chicago?" Then there was a sign, a beautiful, beautiful sign that said 1 Mile Left. I will swear to my dying day they nudged the mile markers forward a little each hour just to force slow runners to do a little more than needed. But like a flag in the distance on a Par 4, this beautiful little sign gave me the biggest boost of confidence. I mean, they changed the measurements just to make it sound easier! If there was a Mile 26 marker I didn't see it - just a Mile mark that swallowed up that last .2 and by God I was going to finish strong.

I bolted as quickly as my stiff, tired legs could muster. The sound that played in my ears was one of my favorite instrumental tracks of all time - There Once Was a Hushpuppy from the Beast of the Southern Wild soundtrack. Imagine if the Chariots of Fire theme and the Rocky theme had a baby and forced it to take up the trumpet and you'll maybe approach the epic-ness of There Once Was a Hushpuppy. It was a perfect selection as the city was ready to give me a hero's welcome and were screaming frantically. Tears ran down my cheek which didn't go unnoticed by strangers who uniformly gave me praise.

I passed the final corner completely ignoring Maisie who had organized a cheering section with a loose cadre of strangers just shy of the finish line. I ignored everything - the forming migraine, the nipples, the halo of lights that dizzied my eyes, the cheering which had melted into a quiet drone. Everything was silent except the song and my own exhausted breath. Even the voices in my head had stilled. There was no frantic worrying whining or self-defeating snark ping-ponging in my anxious brain in that moment. If there was a voice it was faint but certain.

"You will never doubt yourself ever again."

I crossed the finish line with a 5:40 time, tired, tearful and joyous. I wish I could tell you in that moment my mind was on a different plane of existence but when I crossed and hobbled over to grab my medal I said to myself, louder than I should of, "I want a damn cookie!" My parents and the Clancy's agreed to drive me to Sweet Mandy B's bakery for a victory cookie and cupcake. Maisie tagged along. Pam, Reese and my sister stopped by the bench I was propping myself up on to pay their respects. As did Maisie's parents via phone. When my dad approached to finally give me the ibuprofen he asked how many I'd like. "How many would kill me? One less than that." He then gave me one of his Vicodin.


Aly for her efforts beat me by thirty minutes which is truly as inspiring as it is annoying. Naw, she trained hard and trained well for the event unlike me who over did it then took extended breaks. I always knew she was a boss b***h but now she has the proof in the form of a medal, flowers, and an aluminum blanket that makes us all look like skinny little baked potatoes in pictures.

After cookies, I climbed up the three floors to my room and collapsed into my bed without a shower. Later that evening I got calls from Shirley and guy Casey as well as texts from more friends and roommates congratulating me for a job well done. I was too distracted by the smell of my own filth to pay much attention but I do remember thanking them. I took a shower then scuttled back to bed. I had the best sleep of my life knowing that in the city of big shoulders, I could finally walk tall.

5 More Days

Ah! Why did I decide to make a countdown the theme for this week?! Just looking at the title fills me with anxiety! Just thinking about running 26.2 miles makes me winded yet here I go attempting the near impossible.

In fairness I've been training all year though if I was honest with myself, I haven't been training as hard as I should with extended breaks on Thanksgiving (because of food poisoning) and in early August (due to injury). Even while training I never really pushed myself as far as I could go so a ten mile run is about all I can comfortably do. adding 16.2 more to that, I'll be dead by the end, that's if I reach the end.

My friend Aly is keeping herself motivated (she also doubts her discipline but she actually made it to 20 miles). In order to stay motivated she's dedicated each mile to someone or something that's near and dear to her heart which I thought was a neat idea. She claims it's not just a display of gratitude but a welcome distraction as your body in slowly shutting down mile by mile.

When I was in Americorp, we had a similar thing where we wrote down who or what we're dedicating our service year to. I dedicated my City Year jacket to ten or so teachers that inspired me to become a better life-long learner and as lame as that sounds, it actually helped ground me. So inspired by Aly and my time trying to "make better happen," I'm going to do basically the exact same thing. But unlike Aly I'm going to explain myself because I need to write...something...

Mile 1 - Latinos Progresando
I mean, makes sense to put the non-profit I'm raising money for at the top. LP helps provide support for immigrant families in the greater Chicago area through legal services, scholarships, cultural events and education. I was immediately drawn to the work they do both as a Latino and as a person who has seen up close what immigrants have to go through in a foreign land.

Mile 2 - My Mom
My mom indulges my various passions and hair-brained ideas in the only way a mother could. My parents will be there for the Marathon waiting by the Pilsen stop to cheer me on and then waiting at the finish line to put a blanket around me and get me to a hospital.

Mile 3 -Maisie
As I've mentioned before, my friends are crucial to me. Maisie has been a little sister to me for the past seven years and in that time I've seen her grow into a kind and wonderful human being. Her laugh fills the room and her ability to down an entire fifth of vodka with little more than a shrug fills me with envy.

Mile 4 - Guy Casey
While I've only known him for a year or so, Guy Casey has been crucial in my struggle to understand my depression and anxiety. He's a strong-willed, incredibly talented and giving person and I really hope out of all the comics I know, he's one who makes it.

Mile 5 - My brother Pedro
Pedro is my closest brother in age and emotionally as he's the only one I remember really living with (we also lived together briefly in college). He's a good-hearted person with a wonderful wife and two darling kids. He's had more challenges than myself including a minor health scare this past week but he's never stopped staying positive which I admire.

Mile 6 - City Year and Americorp
I spent only a year doing the hardest job I've ever had yet that year made quite an impact on me. I've made life-long friends in that time and still appreciate the organization for what it did for me and what it tried to do for the city I love so much.

Mile 7 - Reese
Speaking of life-long friends I made in Americorp - Reese. More than most they helped me truly develop a sense of self after my breakup and had the patience to stick with me when I was in my nadir.

Mile 8 - My brother Douglas
Next in age is my brother Douglas who never fails to laugh at my jokes. He's a funny guy in his own right and he's also the only brother I know to have struggled with depression. He's got a wife and two children.

Mile 9 -  Aly
The person who I harangued into this and will likely beat me to the finish line by two hours. She's the angel on my shoulders and has been since I came to Chicago.

Mile 10 - Shirley
If Aly is the angel on my shoulders, Shirley is my well-meaning but snarky devil. She's always quick with an insult but still has a good heart and a lot of comedic talent. She's also one of my newest friends so let's see if she'll last.

Mile 11 - My sister Tanya
Tanya, her three children and her husband will be in attendance during the Marathon. Not sure if it's for support or strictly for mockery but there it is. Tanya also had mental health issues in the past so it's good we have that in common.

Mile 12 - My Work Crew
My co-workers keep me motivated to do my best. They've been supportive of my goal to do the Marathon since the beginning and they've been patient with me as I've struggled with my issues.

Mile 13 - My Dad
Only makes sense to put my father around my limit.

Mile 14 - Steve
My buddy Steve is the only one that stuck it out past the improv classes I took last year. He's a fun-loving, extroverted maniac but I love him anyway. He also has a daughter who is a delight but has been going through health crisis after health crisis. I partially dedicate this mile to her as well.

Mile 15 - Jan
Jan has been my friend since freshman year of college and e still talk off and on. Her generosity of spirit has always been something I admire and I enjoy the way she carries authority as a teacher in a benevolent way.

Mile 16 - Clark
One of my movie theater friends who's been around for a minute. We bonded over old films and theater and he has since moved to New York to pursuit his dreams. I've always admired his talent and his positivity in the face of adversity. He's another one I'm sure will make it if for no other reason than he's never really doubted himself.

Mile 17 - Yorick and Brad
Two friends I've known since high school and arguably the oldest friends I have. Both have kids now and have drifted slightly but life always has a way of bringing them back into the fore. Yorick last visited me a couple of months ago for the Pokemon Go Fest that was happening in Grant Park. As for Brad, I was a groomsmen in his wedding.

Mile 18 - My brother Jason
The next in the long line of siblings (I'm the youngest), Jason has two kids and a wife who have been supportive for the last few years despite me not seeing much of them. Jason's one of the funniest people I know and after me and Pedro, had the toughest time with my father.

Mile 19 - Emily
Emily was one of my improv buddies from last year who has since moved out to Connecticut. She still calls me though which is always a surprise and a pleasure. She's a truly kind person who more than anyone else I know isn't afraid to be herself. She's also among the most open people I know.

Mile 20 - Pam
Pam has volunteered/promised to mock me on the day of the race with treats and drinks. Many say by mile 20, people start to drop out like flies so by this point, I will need her motivation.

Mile 21 - Raquel
Another friend I've known for years, she will be in Chicago for the weekend of the Marathon but will be leaving just after it begins. She's here to see a concert with a friend so it was a happy coincidence she'll likely be one of the last people I'll talk to before croaking.

Mile 22 - Girl Casey
Casey recently had a two person sketch show at Second City and the results were stupendous! She's hilarious and one of the best co-hosts a person could ask for.

Mile 23 - Jim
Another friend from college who has since moved on and has a wife and kid. He's a gifted writer and fun to be around in his own understated way.

Mile 24 - My brother Kevin
The eldest of my brothers and arguably the one who "did it right" with 2.5 kids, a wife, two cars and nice house. He has my pity.

Mile 25 - Immigrants and refugees everywhere
I consider myself an immigrant despite the fact that I became an American citizen immediately after birth (I was born overseas). I truly feel for those who's desire it is to have a better, more stable life but can't because of red tape and unwarranted cruelty.

Mile 26 - Those with depression and anxiety
It is only this year that I have realized the true gravity of these mental disorders and have had to deal with the fallout. To those who are not strong enough in the moment to struggle through their lives, know that there is always someone out there to help alleviate some of that discomfort.

.2 Miles - The city of Chicago
This is home.

7 Days

I'm officially a week away from the Chicago Marathon and I am beyond worried. The farthest I have run at one time was 13 miles or a little less than half of a marathon. Those 13 miles, combined with a biking trip through Columbus, Indiana had my foot out of commission for 3 weeks. I have not been training as hard as I could/should so when the 13th rolls around I will be all kinds of screwed. I will be in the last corral which means that there is a more than 0% chance I'll be the last to cross the finish line. More than likely however, I won't even finish.

That said, I'm giving it my best. I will be buying a new pair of running shoes with orthopedics so I won't be hobbling on worn down soles. I'll probably also splurge on a King's Spa massage to loosen up and relax my muscles ahead of the race.

Throughout my year of running, I have been developing a music playlist on Spotify. Because nothing is really worth it unless you're developing a soundtrack for it. 8 Hours and 53 Minutes worth of tunes that get me moving and grooving. If you're interested here's the link:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3IQCsb6JkCGQM0Pfs1IjzQ?si=1D1uu0nrR5KOjmF1Jjijlg

 

 

Here are some of the highlights:
1. Burn the House Down by AJR
2. Happy by C2C
3. Steady, As She Goes by The Raconteurs
4. Runnin' Down a Dream by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
5. High Enough by K. Flay
6. I'll Make a Man Out of You from the Mulan Soundtrack
7. Roma Fade by Andrew Bird
8. Tornado by Wintergarten
9. Doped Up Dollies On a One Way Ticket to Ride by Big D and the Kid's Table
10. Drive It Like You Stole It from the Sing Street Soundtrack
11. Tears Into Wine by Billy Talent
12. Wicked Ones by Dorothy
13.  Worse Than Death by The Anti-Queens
14. A Better Son/Daughter by Rilo Kiley

That's all I got for now. Gotta keep runnin'...