My hubby won a very important award at today's race.

Yes folks, it's true. Mike really won today at the Shamrock Shuffle.

...he won the best.damn.hubby.ever award. Declared proudly, by me.

The Out of Shape Guy literally dragged my sick ass through the course. His first race out, he easily could've run it under 55-mins. But didn't. Rather than run his own race, he decided to keep his sickly wife company and made sure that I finished. No, I wasn't hungover (last night Mike had done all the drinking, not me...I stuck to water); but as usual, my stomach was acting up like crazy before, during and after the race.

I woke up this morning absolutely sick to my stomach. Couldn't eat a crumb. Yaking stomach acid (yummy, I know). At one point, as I sat on the side of the bathtub hovering over the porcelain throne, I debated whether I should race at all. i'm starting to think that i'm one of those people who just gets sick before running a race. i have no idea why it happens, but it sucks and i just have to deal with it (though i still stand firm that a gallstone is causing all this drama). I thought to myself that I'd just get to the start line and then make up my mind as to whether or not I'd do it (knowing that if I got there, barring any type of emergency hospitalization, I'd run).

Anyway...Taylor came on over around 8:45 and we headed off to the starting line. It was a mad house. One would assume that would be the case with 25,000 runners kicking off the chicagoland running season.

The three of us chilled in the corral for a while before the race and before we knew it, we were moving forward. U2's Elevation was blaring, which for me was a good sign since I love love LOVE that song. We all started out together...running along (mostly to avoid getting trampled) and having a jolly good time. Me, being the slow poke that I am, ended up with an obnoxious side stitch way too early in the game (not enough water) and didn't want to hold Mike and Taylor back and told them to go on ahead. So before we hit Mile 1 Taylor pressed on, being the rockstar that she is (she had a kick ass finish time, too! but that's her story to tell).

The course was pretty cool. We were running around a few streets that I'd never been on (and this goes around my area, too--which is kinda funny...we just have that many streets I suppose). As we were crossing over the river the first time there was an ambulance in the middle of the street. We saw a young woman being loaded on a stretcher...bless her heart...she didn't look good. Not sure if she was hyperventilating or having an asthma attack...whatever it was, I hope she's okay. She just didn't look good. I was secretly thankful that it wasn't me.

The whole time I couldn't get my rhythm. I could hear my feet striking the ground and just felt very heavy all over. We all have those days though, I just wish they wouldn't happen during a race. Whenever I'd stop to walk, Mike wouldn't let me slow down for too long (thank god). I had side stitches, stomach aches, acidic burps (double ew, trust me, you don't wanna know), tense shoulders and light-headedness (afterall, I wasn't able to eat this morning because of my awful tummy situation)...it was quite the concoction of issues. Fun times, lemme tell ya! But Mike literally pulled me through every step of the way and I owe it all to him. Sorta had a second wind right around mile 4 as well where I did a pinch of pseudo sprints in between jogs. Darting ahead drove him a little nutty, but it honestly felt good. Before I knew it, we were at Mile 4 on Michigan Avenue.

Coming up to the top of the incline on Roosevelt (those who have run the Chicago Marathon know exactly which "hill" I'm talking about--it totally sucks!) about .3 away from the finish line I was feeling good for the first time today. I'm not sure how much of that was because the ending was in sight. But about 200 meters away I heard them calling out some gun times for a few runners up ahead.... 1:10...at this point I knew I wasn't breaking an hour like I had hoped, but since it took us a bit of time to cross the start line I set off in a strong, hard run thinking that I could possibly break my previous time, despite being sick and frustrated.

In the end, I crossed at 1:03:37--which does indeed set a new PR for me, and considering the circumstances is a great feat in and of itself. So I can't be too disappointed about not breaking the hour barrier (one of these days I'll be doing 10 minute miles...who knows when though). Mike crossed a few seconds later and has been joking with me nonstop about how he could've been so much faster (which is true, he could've and should've crossed about 7-8 minutes faster than what he did).

So regardless of what the chip times say, Mike outraced me. He certainly deserves the best hubby around award.