Marathon run illustrates miles of lessons to learn

The Chicago Marathon has appeared quite a bit in the news during the last week.

I do not want to blame anyone for the abbreviated race, I just want to share my experience and the lessons I learned.

As a first-time marathon runner, I was disappointed not to finish the race. It was a major letdown to be told that the race was over as I approached mile 17.

But in my case, it probably saved me from serious injury.

Sure, I can complain there was not enough water or Gatorade on the course. I didn't drink water for the first six miles and didn't see any Gatorade until almost halfway.

But the reality is I chose to run against the doctor's orders and against my better judgment. If the race was not called, I am afraid to even speculate how it might have ended for me.

About 10 days before last weekend's marathon, I pulled a calf muscle.

"Just some tightness. It'll work itself out," I thought.

Even though my physician advised me not to run the 26.2-mile course, I lined up anyway, determined not to let my summer-long training program go down the tubes.

I know there are other races, but this was the Chicago Marathon. An injury a little over a week before the race was cruel timing.

For the week leading up to the big day, I stuck to a strict regimen of icing and elevating my leg. I popped anti-inflammatory tablets twice a day in hopes the leg would miraculously recover.

I knew full well that a calf injury could take weeks to heal. But I wanted to run the marathon. Call me stubborn; it's the Taurus in me.

As the week progressed the pain and swelling decreased. I had good strength in the calf muscle, but there was minor pain.

Still, I lined up with the 35,000 other runners who showed up to the start line on Sunday. There were people with both knees strapped, both thighs wrapped, an ankle and a knee taped. If they can make it, I told myself, so can I.

Things were fine for the first three miles. Some pain, but nothing I couldn't handle. I was right on pace and in good shape to finish.

But I hadn't run more than four miles since the injury. I told myself to just take one step at a time.

The voices in my head were telling me it was a bad idea to keep going, but I ignored them. I had dedicated too much time, money and energy to stop.

I did stop, 17 miles along the course. When the police officer announced the race was over, I almost broke down. Not because I wasn't going to finish, but because I had jeopardized my health to complete the course. At that point I realized it was a foolish decision to run.

In retrospect, I would not make the same decision again. Next time, I will take time off to fully recover and prepare for a later race.

Now, time will only tell if there's going to be another race in this marathon runner.