Juan David’s Newsletter - September 11th, 2023
Running My First Marathon: A Story of Conviction, Throw-ups, and Cornfields
Running a marathon this year was one of my goals, and it marked the next step in my journey not only as a runner but as someone who can do hard things. Last year, I tackled a half-marathon, and earlier this year, I found myself casually running another half-marathon on a random Friday morning.
A half-marathon, at 13.1 miles, is like a casual stroll in the park after you've conquered a few. But doubling that distance? That's when you start hearing the whispers of a whole different beast, a 26.2-mile monster.
Yet, I decided to do it anyway. Last Saturday, I ran my very first marathon, covering a grueling 26.2 miles. It was an experience that transcended mere physical exertion. It turned out to be even more challenging than I had initially anticipated, but the reasons behind the difficulty surprised me. This marathon served as yet another reminder that I can conquer the toughest of challenges and expand my mental resistance to discomfort.
Since this semester started, my friend Alex and I have been doing physical challenges every weekend. But let’s not worry about the “why” when we could be exploring the exciting “why not?”
Alex is one of those rare individuals who can not only keep up with my physical tempo but often outperform me. That's precisely why I love taking on these challenges alongside him. We push each other to be better.
The weekend before the marathon, we accomplished the daunting Murph Challenge. This challenge involves running one mile, followed by 100 pull-ups, 200 push-ups, 300 squats, and then another mile.
Upon completing it, our adrenaline was through the roof, and we looked at each other, knowing that if we could conquer the Murph Challenge, we were more than ready for a marathon. “Let's go for a marathon next week,” we said to ourselves with unwavering determination.
One of the things that sets Alex apart from most people I know is his unmatched spontaneity, a quality I deeply appreciate because I share it. On any given day, I might wake up and go on a long-distance run, initiate a creative project, write a book about Lithium, pick up the guitar, or explore whatever catches my interest.
As I've grown up and met more people, I've come to realize just how rare spontaneity is. Many people meticulously plan out their lives, but that's not my style. That’s boring. Predictability and the assurance of their plans provide them with short-term comfort, but it's essential to recall what my friend Voltaire once shared with me: "Uncertainty is an uncomfortable position. But certainty is an absurd one." A significant source of my happiness and well-being comes from my comfort with the unpredictable, and my ease in the face of discomfort, as cliché as that may sound.
So, after conquering the Murph Challenge that Saturday, I found myself with a mere week to prepare for the upcoming marathon. While I never doubted my ability to complete it, I wanted to be as prepared as possible. That week, I embarked on a nine-mile run on a Tuesday morning and squeezed in a few 2-3-mile runs whenever I could. However, the big day was rapidly approaching—Saturday was marathon day.
On Friday night, I received a text from Alex asking about our departure time. I replied, "6 AM," but he mentioned that he had homework due at midnight and would likely be up until around 12:30 AM.
"No worries," I conceded. "Text me whenever you wake up."
We settled on an 8 AM departure time, but as we stretched and made final preparations, it wasn't until 9 AM that we finally hit the road.
Our game plan for the day was simple: run 13 miles down the street and then turn around for another 13 miles back. The night before, I had searched Google Maps to chart a route that would provide us with a more or less straight 13-mile path.
Having done that, I closed my eyes and surrendered to the promise of a challenging but thrilling marathon adventure that awaited us in the morning.
As we began our jog, the initial excitement fueled our confidence. However, as we completed the first mile, a sudden realization struck us—we had “forgotten” to bring water. The sun beat down on us, the temperature soared to 88 degrees, and the prospect of needing hydration became evident.
I turned to Alex and asked, "Do you really think we'll need water?"
With a hint of a smile, Alex replied, "We'll probably be fine."
Despite our hopeful outlook, we soon passed by a university building just before venturing into the cornfields. It was the perfect opportunity to drink water and attend to any other pressing bathroom needs. Number 2, anyone?
Once we had replenished ourselves, we resumed our run with renewed determination.
A valuable lesson I learned during my second half-marathon was the importance of not placing undue pressure on myself. I reminded myself that I had the option to turn back or quit at any time, even though I was committed to finishing the run no matter what. Strangely, this mindset made me feel lighter and more at ease.
I shared my essay with Martin Gruebele, a distinguished Chemistry professor with an impressive track record of winning Iron Man races, Ultratriathlon World Championships, the World's Toughest Bicycle Race (a grueling 1120-mile bike race), and the World's Toughest Foot Race (a daunting 135-mile race in Death Valley).
Martin Gruebele provided valuable advice, suggesting that I take a different approach. This is what he said:
Looks like you applied the ’I can stop this at any time if I need to’ method.
The next step is to entirely clear your mind of any thought of stopping or not stopping and flow until you suddenly realize, with surprise, that the task is done.
For the marathon, I adopted Martin Gruebele’s approach, striving to think about absolutely nothing as I ran. Thoughts surely came but believe me that after the first 15 miles, you will have no thoughts. In fact, I chose not to listen to music, podcasts, or anything else during the run.
The first ten miles went smoothly, and we were feeling strong and confident. In fact, the feeling persisted even through the first 15 miles of our marathon journey. It was all going remarkably well until…we got thirsty, really thirsty.
In mile 10, we saw a railroad track and Alex took a picture.
As the miles passed beneath our feet, our thirst grew more insistent. We had no water with us, and the nagging thought began to creep into our minds: "Will we be okay?"
It wasn't a matter of being careless; we simply hadn't wanted the burden of carrying water. Our plan was straightforward: if we ever needed water, we'd just ask for it.
"But who would we ask?" you might wonder. The answer was the people who lived in the handful of houses scattered along our 13-mile route through the cornfields. With approximately 20 houses in total, our logic told us that at least one person would be kind enough to offer us some water.
After completing the first 15 miles of our marathon, our thirst became more urgent, exacerbated by the relentless sun. It was time to put our plan into action.
Approaching the first house we encountered, I removed my sunglasses and hat before knocking on the door. When the gentleman who answered appeared, I began, “We're university students running a marathon. We were wondering if you could kindly provide us with some water.”
Every word I spoke was deliberate, designed to dispel any suspicions. To our delight, the gentleman graciously handed us four bottles of water, and we even had a friendly chat with him as we discovered he was a university bus driver.
We thanked him and his dog and kept going.
However, as we continued running, the sun's intensity seemed to increase, and I found myself tormented by the most excruciating stomach pains I had ever experienced. My initial thought was that I needed to do a number 2 but my attempts yielded no results.
Pressing onward, I discovered that every time I ran for more than five minutes, the stomach pains would return with a vengeance. Stomach cramps, relentless sun, and our increasing thirst made it clear that we needed more water.
Unfortunately, the next house was about three miles away. We pushed ourselves to cover the distance, but upon reaching the house, it appeared to be deserted, so we decided to continue.
After an additional two miles, we finally encountered a person. I removed my hat and sunglasses and explained, "We're running a marathon, and..."
Before I could finish, he interjected, "You need water. Yes! One second" With a warm smile, he disappeared into his house and emerged with four bottles of ice-cold water. The relief was palpable.
At this point, we had completed about 20 miles, with just six more to go. While six miles might not seem like a significant distance, after running 20 miles, they stretched out interminably. Time seemed to slow down during this period.
We gratefully drank the cold water and took a short rest beneath the shade of some trees, knowing that the final leg of our marathon still lay ahead.
After a brief ten-minute rest, we gathered ourselves and resumed our run. At this stage, our primary desire was simple: to finish, to be done with it all. Oddly, time seemed to stretch endlessly. It's funny how the more you want to be finished, the longer everything appears to become.
During this period of pure survival, it was the small details that began to awe us. As we continued on our way back, we suddenly observed a magnificent sight – the sound of a train chugging along the nearby railroad tracks. The view was panoramic, allowing us to witness the entire train as if we were watching a scene from a Mission Impossible or Fast & Furious movie. It was one of those moments where you can see the entire train barreling down the tracks, and in your mind's eye, you're sprinting towards the railroad to save people from an impending catastrophe.
If you venture deep enough into the cornfields, you'll stumble upon curious surprises, such as a Geothermal Drilling truck. It's these unexpected discoveries that make the journey so fascinating and memorable.
As we pressed on, running for four more miles, our thirst had reached an unbearable level. However, we knew we were now only three miles away from our goal.
Buildings began to appear on the horizon, and we decided to approach some university researchers we encountered, pleading for water. We drank eagerly and pushed ourselves to run for another mile.
At this point, my stomach pains had escalated to an excruciating level. I couldn't walk or move without immense discomfort, so I sought refuge in the shade and lay down for what felt like ten to fifteen interminable minutes. Every inch of my body ached, rendering me nearly immobile.
Summoning all the determination I had left, I finally rallied myself and told Alex, "Alright, I'm finishing this. Let's go."
Everything appeared to be going smoothly from there, but as the saying goes, "It's not over until it's over."
At mile 25, with just one mile remaining, I could feel it coming. Suddenly, in what can only be described as the most peculiar and graphic turn of events, I experienced four consecutive bouts of vomiting. The contents were a vivid green, mixed with yellow condiments. It was as if my body had decided to purge everything from its depths. I could hardly believe what I was witnessing.
In a strange twist, I found myself wishing this had happened earlier in the race. Nonetheless, the last mile turned into an unexpected blessing. I felt lighter, more energetic, as if I could have run another marathon right then and there.
In that final mile, we cranked up some dance music and sprinted as hard as we could, determined to complete our first-ever marathon.
I gasped, "We did it. We actually did it."
Alex, equally thrilled, exclaimed, "Yes, we did! When are we doing the next one?"
I chuckled and replied, "Okay, calm down. But you know what? You're right. Let's do it again soon."
And that's the unforgettable story of my first marathon.
Remember Martin Gruebele? Well, after completing that grueling marathon, I emailed him, detailing my achievement and the relentless stomach pain that had come along for the ride.
In his gracious response, he not only congratulated me but also explained the reasons behind my mid-race turmoil. He then generously shared some invaluable tips to help me sidestep such pain in the future.
But Martin wasn't finished there. At the end of the email, he gave me two more challenges.
His first challenge was a tempting one: “Run another marathon,” he suggested, “but make it feel 'easy' for the first half before you start pushing yourself.”
And then, just when I thought I had enough challenges on my plate, he tossed another one into the mix: “Consider tackling a triathlon, where you'll swim, cycle, and run your heart out. This, my friend, requires real discipline.”
Now, doing a triathlon wasn't exactly what I had envisioned for my 2023 journey, but hey, sometimes life's bingo card gets an unexpected addition. You'll be hearing about this adventure soon.
More Pathways, More Unique Perspectives
Usually, I prefer to keep my personal endeavors private, driven by my own desires rather than seeking recognition or sharing them with the world. However, this time, I've decided to open up about my experiences because I believe they hold valuable lessons, particularly for college students.
So often, we're boxed into a narrow set of expectations: study hard, get good grades, get drunk, party, graduate, and secure a job.
But what about finding what you love doing, challenging yourself physically, mentally, and intellectually, having the freedom to follow curiosity without restraint, and daring to achieve more than you ever thought possible?
These paths are less common, but they're essential to remind people, especially college students, that there are countless alternatives beyond the well-trodden one. My hope is that my experiences serve as a reminder and, most importantly, as an inspiration for others to pursue their unique callings.
I recently discussed this idea with a friend, and his understanding added further depth to my perspective. He wisely noted, “More pathways through the college experience will lead to more unique perspectives and skillsets. Especially pathways that increase intrinsic motivation, i.e. they don't rely on a professor or a club president telling you what to do.”
For the past three years, this has been one of my guiding principles, and I aim to continue embracing it in the future.
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It's remarkable how just three weeks of school can be packed with so many noteworthy events and stories. Today, I had planned to share a particular project's story, but it seems this project has a few more chapters to unfold before it's ready to be shared. One thing's certain: it won't be boring!
In the meantime, we've released an interview with Tim Killeen, the President of the University of Illinois System. The response from people has been genuinely positive so far, and I'm confident that you'll find it engaging and insightful as well.
Curiosity didn't kill the cat; it sent the big dogs running,
Juan David Campolargo
Inspiring! Glad you decided to share
One word: Unstoppable. You’re truly UNSTOPPABLE.
I admire the courage, perseverance, and discipline needed to even attempt something like this.
Keep challenging yourself and pushing boundaries you never knew you had.
P.S. Let’s hope the final chapters of the project turn out to be as exciting as the ones before it 😉