Run, Karla, Run!

For the first time in years, the U.S. has two runners who could conceivably win Monday’s 114^th running of the Boston Marathon: Meb Keflezighi and Ryan Hall. An American hasn’t won the race since Lisa Larsen Rainsberger in 1985 on the women’s side and Greg Meyer in 1983 on the men’s side.

The Boston Marathon is the oldest and most storied marathon in the world, and for good reason—it’s also the most exclusive. Runners must qualify for the race, a feat that only 10.4 percent of marathon finishers accomplish. On the professional side, it’s just as exclusive; a victory in Boston means a laurel wreath, a World Marathon Majors win and a place in history. Read the rest of this entry →

The High Line in New York City on Oct. 29. The elevated park is on the city's West Side. Photo by Rob Thurman/Flikr.

Okay, it’s been a full month since I ran the Chicago Marathon and I suppose it’s time—time to run again.

I’m a real stickler when it comes to the rules of training. And perhaps my favorite rule of training is actually the rule of recovery. A common adage says it takes one day per mile of any distanced raced for your body to fully recover. So that means I get 26.2 days off from hard training. I take that seriously. Maybe too seriously. As much as I love to run, I love to take it easy when I feel I’ve earned it.

But after about two and a half weeks of recovery, I started to get antsy. The yoga, stretching and sit-ups I was passing off for workouts just weren’t cutting it. So I finally laced up my shoes and hit the pavement. Read the rest of this entry →

Natalie stops to chat with her cheerleaders. Photo by Christy Hourihan.

I was running. Striding up Second Avenue in my new sneakers hurrying to catch my friend who was also running. But she was racing the ING New York City Marathon, and I was merely a spectator hoping to spot her at Mile 17.

If you’ve ever run a marathon, you know how critical spectators can be. I’ve been lucky enough to run three with friends and family peppered throughout the course, lighthouses on a stormy day blinking me in. Last year in the New York City Marathon, the devil on my shoulder was whispering insidious thoughts about quitting the race as I climbed the steep incline of the Queensboro Bridge around Mile 16. But knowing I had friends at Mile 17, Mile 18, Mile 20 and on kept me going. For one thing, I have just enough vanity to not want to look bad lollygagging up to them when I should be running. But I also know that seeing them is usually all the encouragement I need.

This year, I was excited for my first marathon as a spectator. My friend Natalie, one of my diehard cheerleaders, was running her first marathon. She was nervous and I was happy to be the one rooting her on for a change. Read the rest of this entry →

Chicago at dawn on marathon morning. Photo by Phil Hospod.

It was dark. It was brisk. It was electric. I shivered in the 29-degree air, my teeth chattering as the sun rose over Chicago’s Grant Park. This was it. My stomach rolled over, nervous and uncertain. I stood in the starting corral, packed in with nearly 35,000 other runners huddling like penguins bracing for winter. We moved forward en masse, and then, there we were facing the starting line of the 2009 Bank of America Chicago Marathon.

It was the 6th anniversary of my father’s death, and I was about to literally run down memory lane. The day before at the marathon expo, I watched a video of the course neighborhood by neighborhood—The Loop, Lincoln Park, Old Town, Greektown and on and on. My emotions swelled and I swallowed hard. I had come back to Chicago a prodigal daughter of sorts. This was my homecoming, my triumphant return to the city of my youth. Read the rest of this entry →

The Merchandise Mart in Chicago. Photo by Phil Hospod.

Chicago, I’m coming home. On October 11th, I’m running the Bank of America Chicago Marathon. It’s my third marathon, but it might be my most significant. October 11th will mark the 6th anniversary of my father’s death.

I was born and raised in the Chicago suburbs. My family lives in the city proper now, and I visit a few times a year. But when I left for college in Massachusetts 13 years ago, it was the last time I ever called Chicago home. After graduation I moved to New York, where I still live. Now when I line up for the start in Grant Park, it’ll be a homecoming of a different kind. Read the rest of this entry →