chicago.

October 12 has been a deadline in my mind for a few months now. I still remember being in Jerusalem, looking at my phone’s countdown app. I had a countdown for “home”-“sarah”-“school start” and “CHICAGO”. I remember being anxious, because I wasn’t able to train like I needed to while I was in Jerusalem and I felt like the race was right around the corner. I remember kind of having a panic attack when I hit the 90 day range, I hadn’t run more than 4 miles all summer, I had gained a few from eating buffet food 3 times a day…and I felt like I had zerooo time to prepare the big day. The funny thing is, looking back, those 90 days have actually seemed like a little eternity.

My 90 day eternity has been filled with a million big and little things. Reunions with best friends. Family trips. Weddings. A new semester in school. Closure with ended relationships and happy introductions into new ones. Recruiting for internships. Long nights studying. Early mornings running. Eating sweet potato fries at least once daily. Getting legitimately humbled while trying to learn tennis. Listening to general conference. Feeling completely defeated, and completely on top of the world. All within one little 90 day window.

This is the one thing I really love about running. Every part of running—is like this little microcosm of life. Like my ninety days leading up to the race…what happened in those 90 days was life. Long runs are another sort of microcosm of life. Let’s take the actual marathon to illustrate.

At the beginning of the race you are literally fenced in with thousands of other runners. You’re a little bit cold, nervous, and you have no idea how you are going to react for the next 26.2 miles. Then the race begins, and you step across the starting line. You start out a little fast, trying to reign yourself in so you don’t run out of steam in the end. The first few miles, you feel like you have nothing but road ahead of you. Your legs are fresh, but mentally you try not to think about how far you have to go. Miles 14-20 are always the hardest for me. That stretch is slow, and mentally painful. Once you hit 20, the end is in sight, and you think..."I can always run 6 miles…6 miles is no problem". The miles start ticking by faster and faster…21…23…25…26…26.2. BAM. The deed is done. What is remarkable are the feelings you experience during those 26.2 miles. In just four little hours you feel like crying, rejoicing, and everything in-between. You experience remarkable doubt and remarkable confidence. Time runs slow, and time runs fast. Just like life.

So there’s my little jumble of thoughts. That don’t really relate…but that’s how I roll. The rest of the trip involved lots of good food, shopping, walking (well dragging ourselves) around the very pretty city, and having a real good time with my family on public transportation. The best part of the trip was obviously Mama Car Car. I feel real lucky every single day that my mother is also my absolute best friend. She's left big shoes for me to fill, and I admire her more than anyone in my life. I also love running marathons with her, and the fact that we run out of things to talk about on our long runs because we talk too much every day anyway. So here’s a little s/o to my mama: Thanks for everything Mom. You kind of rock. Love, your twin daughter.

 "DAD DON'T TAKE A PICTURE YET"...face.

 Blue Gatorade for the WIN.