Just Start

I look ahead of me at the sea of runners as the rolling start begins. First the elite, then the qualifiers, then us...part of the thousands of individuals that chose to run in honor of a charity. 

As our wave starts the race, my eyes well up with tears as the emotion of this day hits me...tears full of excitement and happiness...proud tears because three of my closest girlfriends and I have made it to this day. We have raised over $11,000 for JDRF in honor of my teammates son. We have trained for hundreds of miles together to run our very first marathon...the Chicago Marathon. 

✨It is Sunday, October 7th, 2012 and I am four months pregnant with our first baby✨

You see, when I found out I was expecting we had already started training. I had already made a commitment to my crew and to JDRF. I was already a runner. 

Countless people, friends and family alike, upon hearing the news told me I could not/should not/would not run this race. They offered their opinions on the “why”, namely that I was pregnant now and needed to be responsible. “You can’t run a marathon pregnant! You’re insane!” was what I heard on repeat. 

Funny thing was, the idea of NOT running the race had only entered my mind for a fleeting moment and then poof...disappeared. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t a complete idiot about the whole thing! I spoke to my Doctors. I spoke to my then husband. I knew the shape I was in physically. I wasn’t starting from zero. I knew I was strong and mentally prepared. I also knew I was pregnant, for the first time, with a baby we had a hard time conceiving. I knew I needed to trust my gut and be smart. 

Anyone that’s run a marathon knows there are variables...heat or extreme cold...how you handle your fuel on the course (aka did you decide to try the GU that day and then nearly 💩 your pants😜)...potential injury along the way...the list goes on and on...

My only plan the day of that race was to start.

I *wanted* to at least get to the half way point, but I told myself if I didn’t, no big deal. I was growing a human in my belly for Christ sake. I would stop if I wasn’t feeling right and just like that, my first attempt to complete a marathon would be over. Done and done. 

I remember around the 5K mark thinking so far so good. I feel normal. Let’s go...

By the 10k mark, I needed my fuel so down it went. I also had to pee...that became a theme 🤷🏻‍♀️😜🤣

When I crossed the half way mark, I felt amazing. I had run nearly the entire way to get there and I remember thinking if I stop at any point between now and the finish, so be it. This is my time to slow. it. down. 

I walked the next mile. I called my family. I had some Gatorade. I cheered for the runners passing me. I smiled into the crowds...which if you’ve never run Chicago, my god! THEY ARE AMAZING🙌🏻

Somewhere around mile 16 I was walking again. I checked my watch and did the math and realized if I kept my walk/run pace going, I would cross the finish in under 6.5 hours, the cutoff for finishers. 

THAT became my new plan. 

Just be smart, walk/run as long as you feel good, pee as often as you need to, and cross that finish, baby belly and all. 

I was talking to my baby nearly the entire way. People must have thought like oh wow, OK... crazy pregnant runner talking to herself 😜

But I didn’t care. It felt right. 

And so I said things like...
“Hey in there, you feeling good? Having fun with Mom today? This is our first marathon buddy. I’m so glad you’re here with me. We can do this together.” 

Before I knew it, I was at mile 23.5.🙌🏻
I could taste the finish line...and the salt all over my lips. I could feel the crowds energy. I could almost hear the finish line roars. 

And then it happened.

I felt something...in my belly. I didn’t know what. I was already hypersensitive of how I was feeling and so it literally stopped me in my tracks. All I knew was that was my sign. I was done. 

I stopped. I turned around. I walked directly into thousands of runners heading toward me, going backwards on the course. I went directly to the nearest shuttle for transport to the finish to find my three friends. 

The man driving that shuttle was a Saint sent from above. Here I come, baby belly, covered in sweat, tears streaming down. He took one look at me and went into panic mode. I explained I was OK. I had just felt a new feeling in my belly and being four months pregnant, I thought it best to call it a day. I told him how even though I knew I was doing the right thing, it sucked. It really sucked. To be so close and then BAM. Done. 

Later that evening as I laid in bed in our hotel room, swollen feet elevated, eating god knows what, it happened again. 

In that moment, I realized for the very first time...it was my baby kicking. He had kicked me for the very first time at mile 23.5 of the Chicago Marathon❤️

I remember thinking the next day...he couldn’t have waited 2.7 miles for the finish?!? He was probably kicking me because he had bounced around for so many miles and thought, are we done yet Mom?!?😂

Needless to say, while I didn’t cross the finish that day, I still felt like a winner. I experienced the most amazing race, the most amazing moment with this tiny life inside of me, and I did it all on my terms, despite the naysayers. 

If your heart is set on achieving a goal, do it.
💕Wish for it💕Hope for it💕Dream of it💕

People will tell you you can not/will not/should not do it because to them it seems crazy...but it’s not their goal. IT’S YOURS.

💫The only thing you need to do is start💫

PS- I went back and finished Chicago in October 2017🙌🏻