When I was lucky enough to receive entry into the 2017 Chicago marathon, I was less than two months out from running my personal best (NYC 2016) and thought "hey let's go see what we can do on a flat course." Fast forward, five months before the race I was told I should only run three days a week during my training cycle because of a continuing nagging hamstring issue. With a month to wrap my head around that proclamation from my doctor, I began to manipulate the Hanson's Marathon Method to include swimming and cycling. Two weeks before the race, I hurt my quad, was told not to run and had to drastically rethink my goals. In less than a year's time, the goal went from maybe another PR, to maybe a sub-four hour time to half way through the race, just finish the god damn thing. And by sheer will power and a desire to not have a DNF, I did. But this isn't a post to complain about how hard the race was or how emotional the weekend was (I knew the instant I started crying climbing out of my dad's truck to enter the starting corrals it was going to be an emotional day). This is a post about being "Born to Run." I was in wave one for the first time in a marathon in my life. I was in a new marathon (for me). I was excited. New York sends each wave off with Frank Sinatra singing "New York, New York." The first song Chicago played for us was Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run." I was in pre-race heaven. I've never felt that attached to that particular Springsteen song even though I run and have a borderline unhealthy obsession with The Boss. "In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream." This line rippled through my corral. There were runner's from all over the world surrounding me, but this song brought us all together and I was ready to roll. These were my streets and I was going to find my American Dream. Here's highlights/thank yous/struggles of the race for me:
Now, you maybe asking yourself how did a song I'd heard four and half hours prior come to mean so much? Well it turns out, I didn't succeed in spreading out my "Christmas presents" this year. Chicago was a gift from my mom. In return, I scored us the hottest Broadway ticket since Hamilton - Springsteen on Broadway for Saturday Oct. 14. A pretty great week of Christmas if you ask me. I've seen Bruce four times prior to Saturday. All in 15,000+ seat venues. Suddenly I was sitting in the Walter Kerr Theater on 48th Street, with less than 1,000 die-hard Springsteen fans. I've read Born to Run, I've touched Bruce on his shoulder, I've lost my voice at his concerts, I regret not going to see him play MetLife in August of 2016 to see his longest concert ever. But I had yet to cry at one of his shows. However, as he began to talk about the E Street Band and his belief that 1+1=3 if you have the right people around you, during his acoustic version on the piano of “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out” I felt tears dripping down my cheek. The 1+1=3 mentality is how I managed to finish Chicago. The strangers on the streets, my family both blood and chosen by friendship and a can't fail mentality allowed me to cross the finish line. Bruce's Broadway show was so raw, so hauntingly beautiful, very scripted but never felt like it and so imitate it felt as Bruce was talking just to you. The show mirrors his life a bit and then transitions into the American Dream, all of which you can understand his view from his autobiography. But sitting there it felt different. And the show ends with a beautiful, slow, acoustic (guitar) version of "Born to Run." "The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive. Everybody's out on the run tonight. But there's no place left to hide." Bruce couldn't hide on a stage filled with just a Baby Grand and his guitars. I couldn't hide in the streets of Chicago even with as much pain and suffering I felt. And that was the best lesson of all during my ninth marathon: there will be strangers, loved ones, fellow runners, colleagues all out there supporting your passion. So find it, hold on to it and make it your magic trick. "Baby we were born to run" the final lyrics of a song that helped me bookend a wonderful, heartbreaking, emotionally draining and loving week in my life. It must be a positive omen for something. To Chicago, thank you; to Bruce, thank you, you've meant more in my life than just a travel companion.
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Megan FloodMegan is 29 and a 14-time marathoner. She is hoping to Boston Qualify one day. She doesn't know exactly how this blogging will go, but she is giving it her best shot! Archives
June 2019
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Marathoning Megan