My first marathon was the Chicago Marathon in 2014. I had been running for less than a year when I signed up, but it had already changed my life. I started running on the advice of my therapist, who suggested exercise as a way to manage stress. At the time, I was living in Mexico, unhappily married, and had two young children. I knew nothing about marathons or what training would entail. I got myself a coach and joined his running group. In this group I found community, friendship, and a sense of belonging. But that’s a topic for a different post. Today I want to talk about that first marathon.
I chose the Chicago marathon because Chicago was home. It simply made sense to me to go home where I would have the support of friends and family and I was familiar with the city. I never imagined that people traveled to other places to run marathons, or that the Chicago marathon attracted millions of runners and spectators to the city every year. In fact, I was pleasantly confused about why my training partners in Mexico were planning on going all the way to Chicago for a marathon. I didn’t know that was a thing.
My main running buddy, who I ran most of my long runs with, was a guy named Manuel. Manuel was 10 years younger than me and different in so many ways. He was a creative - worked in video production or advertising or something. He was, for lack of a better term, a hipster. I was not - am not. And yet, it worked. We ran together and grew close.
A few weeks before leaving for Chicago, my coach started talking about qualifying for Boston. He said that if I pushed myself, I might even be able to do it in this first race. Boston was something that had never even crossed my mind. I just wanted to try to finish a marathon. The seed grew, however, into a bundle of nerves that cast a shadow over my training. On a run with Manuel, I brought up my nervousness. He asked me, “What was your goal when you signed up for the marathon?” I began to answer him with numbers. “Well, Martin says he thinks I can run in 3:35, but I think …” Manuel reminded me that those goals were the coach’s goals for me, not my goals for myself, and asked again, “When you first decided to register for the marathon, why did you do it? What was your goal?” I realized that my original goal was really just to see if I could cross the finish line. I wanted to challenge myself to finish, and that was all. This reminder brought my anxiety level down immensely. I wanted to finish a marathon. And the training I had done up to that point proved to me that I was able to do that.
The night before the race, I was not nervous. I was excited. I slept well, woke up with energy, and walked/jogged to the start line. On the way, I took everything in. The coolness of the morning, the sunrise over the lake, and the other runners making their way to the start line. I found Manuel by Buckingham Fountain and we gave each other the biggest hug ever. It was time to enjoy the fruits of our labor, ready for a 26-mile celebration.
Manuel and I ran together for the first 18 - 20 miles or so. I pointed out things of interest along the way, we talked, he listened to music (I did not. I wanted to be fully present). We passed through Downtown, Lincoln Park, Boystown, Old Town, UIC, my mom’s house, my aunt’s house, my brother’s house, Little Italy, Chinatown, and Grant Park. I looked at my watch a few times and thought I maybe had a chance at qualifying for Boston (I didn’t know then about the GPS issues downtown). At some point, Manuel stopped to grab an orange slice from a spectator offering them. He told me later that by the time he turned, arm reached out to hand one to me, I was already too far gone. I chose that moment to go up to second gear. I never did hit the proverbial wall. I followed my coach’s instructions and ran conservatively and first, then started to push around mile 20.
I remember crossing the finish line exhausted and so so happy. I’ve often said that after the birth of my two sons, that day was one of the best of my life. It is still difficult for me to put into words, but the feeling of accomplishment I had that day made me feel I could do anything. In fact, the high last long enough that a few days later, on a flight back to where we were living at the time, I forgot to be scared of flying. I still felt powerful, strong, and invincible.
Once, running a marathon felt like an unattainable dream—something that others could achieve, but not me. Crossing that finish line changed my perspective on what’s possible. It showed me that with dedication, consistency, and a willingness to step outside my comfort zone, I can accomplish more than I thought. This experience has encouraged me to embrace challenges and approach new goals with confidence. Every mile we run is a reminder that we’re capable of growth and achievement, so keep pushing forward and believe in your journey.