42 kilometers = 26.2 miles

This has been quite an unforgettable week for me.

I didn't trained as much as I should have.. I didn't train as hard as my coach and plan ordered me to, and I definitely didn't sleep as much as everybody recommends.

Having a toddler and a four month old baby which you take care at night (most nights) is challenging to say the least, but to train for a marathon at the same time and working full time in a travel intensive job is quite an uphill battle. But what a great battle it was. I won it.

I conquered a personal challenge past Sunday. I conquered the first part of my “goal before I turn 40" which is to complete three World Major Marathon races, the most technical and famous of all the marathons in the world. But not necessarily the most difficult. Chicago was the first stop in this tour.

For a year and a half I hit the pavement three times a week, working on my form, my strides and my general fitness. I had a coach, a trainer, I read a lot and tested all sorts of gear to get ready for my training season and races, including the Detroit and San Francisco Half Marathons.

I came to Chicago with a maximum of seventeen miles on my longest runs and a deficit of at least 20 hours of sleep in the last week, but I also came with my family, my support and cheerleaders.

The build up for the race was amazing. The whole city decorated and prepared for the event that was going to be televised and watched live, on the streets by almost two million people… The expectation for a possible new world record and five world champions.. The anticipation of the always tricky weather in the windy city and the race conditions.

I started strong. Chilly morning but with wonderful blue skies. Surrounded by forty five thousand people and countless volunteers that helped create a safe and fun environment.. 5 miles in, my body was eager to go faster, as in miles 10 and 12. By mile 15 my head started wrapping around the idea that I was about to reach my all time longest distance and that I was still a very long way out. Shut the hell up, head.

At mile 16 I read on my phone that my family was actually going to be able to meet me at the finish line to see my crossing, and it pumped me up to continue… I had seen them briefly between miles 1 and 2 and it was the fuel that I needed.

Miles 17 through 20 I spent visiting the medical tents begging for biofreeze., probably the only mistake in an otherwise perfect organization…. They ran out of it too quickly.

I ran past a blind man, an 80 years old multiple marathoner and an amputee. They gave me more strength, but only in my head., because my body was starting to shut down.

My old injuries chose not to come bother me. New ones took their place instead.. Left isquiotibial band, shoulders and metatarsus where killing me to the point that I had to stop briefly for a self massage and sanity check.. I had to keep going.. I had to.

Mile 24 came with a second wind. I ran fast and in good shape., feeling well and strong like I haven’t felt in years. It quickly went away when my knees just crashed. Sharp pain above the knee cap and in my left hamstring.. “ you have to finish this. You have to”. That’s not only what my head told my body but also what hundreds of fans cheered from the sides to all of us, the rest of the pack, the slow ones, the old ones and the injured ones.. They gave us all strength and we all started to look up towards the downtown skyline. The end was near.

Last corner. 200 meters more. The same distance that I always hated when running in my soccer practice. The same distance that would separate me from failure.. The FINISH word was big. Big and getting bigger with every step, and also getting louder with cheers and applause from total strangers that witnessed how moved I was.. How I broke into tears of confusion, of achievement, of exhaustion. Like a soldier coming home from the front, about to just kneel and collapse.

Only the mental sight of my wife and daughters waiting to hug me kept me going till I crossed the timing mat.. And then some more, until I could collect my medal, my beer and my carb-loading snacks… And there they were… With the unique love in their eyes and the anxiety of waiting for me to complete my goal. The same goal that they pushed me to achieve and the same goal for which they supported me through my training.

Five hours and twenty seven minutes running, one foot after the other … But that is not important now. What’s important is that I actually achieved 33.3% of my goal before I turn forty. I did it.

Now, for the speed. For the encore.. For the next city to conquer, like Napoleon..

Because it’s not the years what count in our lives, but the mileage we put in.