I collapsed in the grass just after mile eleven with only a couple miles to go.
My quads had been on fire for miles and miles, my mind fading with them. I stopped having any thoughts besides visions of the half-marathon finish line. A woman pulled off to the side of the road and another followed suit. I ran past them, applauding myself for not succumbing to the temptation of joining in their company. I looked down at my watch and only 30 seconds had elapsed since I last checked.
I only made it another block before felt my legs wobble beneath me and my vision go blurry. I sensed danger. I pulled up to a stop, checking behind me before crossing the street into the grass. Onlookers stepped aside to let me through. Strangers asked if I needed help and I told them I did. Someone brought me water. Another called my wife to tell her I stopped running and needed her attention. A police officer asked if I needed medical attention and I said yes, and then he didn’t call anyone for help. A stranger gave me blueberries.
I thought about getting up and running again. I sat up in the grass and felt much woozier. The grass was wet and I spread out in it, desperate to cool down. My head rumbled. Someone brought me a lawn chair and told me to sit up. I followed his directions and held my head in my hands, groaning.
On my birthday last year, I wrote the following pledge:
As I turn 28, I’ll be modeling my year after Alperen Şengün, the young Turkish center for the Houston Rockets. My tenets for this year are:
Hone the fundamentals
Play under control
Don’t settle
Şengün is a crafty athlete whom casual fans probably have not heard of (which makes him a perfect new favorite player). After a year of testing my limits, I’m ready to get back to basics. I spend most of my time running, climbing, swimming, reading, writing, or cooking - things I feel like my body was meant to do. I feel comfortable pushing myself in these activities, and I’m doing so in a measure I can sustain for the long term. I’ll go for a run and stop for water when I want it. I’ll write a few pages each day and build my capacity for more.
These tenets aimed me towards achieving personal records again and again and again. I vaulted towards my ceiling as a runner and never quite found it, always finding new clouds I could float through.
That is, until I found myself in the grass.
Alperen Sengun’s Improvement
Alperen Sengun finished third place for the NBA’s Most Improved Player award this season. The 21 year old Turkish center averaged 21.1 points, 9.3 rebounds, and 5.0 assists for the season. He had his best season by almost every statistical metric, and even most advanced metrics such as VORP, a category so convoluted that I don’t understand it well enough to cite here.
For the non-basketball fans: Sengun was ballin.
He had this sweet dunk in overtime against Wembanyama’s Spurs. Later in the season, he had his best performance - against San Antonio again - where he pretty much dominated from start to finish, scoring 45 points and notching 16 rebounds.
He operates with this driveway, YMCA, Saturday morning style of basketball. I look at my four-year-old nephew and three-year-old niece, and I know that when they’re more athletic than me someday, I’ll be beating them on the gravel court with these Sengun moves. It doesn’t quite look right on an NBA court, but it’s a captivating game to watch.
When I turned 28 last July, I picked Sengun (#28) as my favorite player for the year. Naturally, I used my CPS teacher discount to see a Rockets v. Bulls game in the lower section of the United Center. I drove over after school and wore my #28 jersey.
He was scoreless in the first half and basically played like garbage. But in the second half, my guy turned it on! He led the Rockets on a furious comeback to send the game to overtime, though Chicago ultimately won the game. Despite having zero points in the first half, Sengun finished with 25 points, 9 rebounds, 5 assists, and 2 steals. One Bulls fan asked me, “Is that your favorite player? He plays like Baby Jokic!”
Nail on the head.
I shuffled down towards the Rockets tunnel when the game was almost over. Lots of Turkish fans crowded around me cheering his first name. Uncle Jeff Green looked up as he exited to the locker room. Sengun, disappointed by the tough loss on the road, kept his head down, shaking it back and forth. What a competitor, I thought as he completely ignored me.
Personal Records
In October of 2023, I ran my first full marathon. I trained for 20 weeks - running miles and lifting weights - over my summer break and into the start of the school year. I set an ambitious goal to finish in under three-and-a-half hours, which led to many of my friends and family cautioning me against pushing myself too hard. That advice was salient, as I barely made it to the finish line, but I did: 3:28:29, a 7’57”/mile pace, and one of my proudest life accomplishments. I proved a lot to myself that day, and that race gave me a new outlook on the kind of person I am. (PR).
After the marathon, I started racing much shorter distances to work on my turnover speed. I ran a 5K Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving 2023 in 0:19:48.9, a 6’23”/mile pace (PR).
I ran the Shamrock Shuffle in Chicago in March 2024, an 8K race that is part of the Chi Distance Series and kicks off the spring running season in the city. I finished in 0:30:42, a 6’11”/mile pace (PR).
I ran a free one mile race in Humboldt Park as part of the ‘Go Run series put on by the Chicago Area Runners Association (CARA), which puts on free weekly races across the city. I finished in 0:5:13 (PR).
I ran another one mile race in Horner Park a couple weeks later in 0:4:52 (PR).
After this string of PR’s, I decided I might be two years away from a Boston Marathon qualification, and turned my training towards that goal. My marathon time was a full thirty minutes away from that benchmark, but I thought I could cut the goal in half, starting with a serious checkpoint in June.
Meanwhile, I’d been training for the Chicago 13.1, a half marathon on the city’s west side.
My last hard week of training before tapering included these sessions:
M: 3 mile run (easy)
T: 5 x 800 repeats (race pace)
W: 3 mile run (easy)
Th: 60 minute tempo run (including 6 miles at race pace)
F: Rest
Sa: 2:00:00 run 3/1 (1 hour easy, 30 min race pace, 30 min easy) (15 miles total)
Su: Rest
I was targeting a massive jump in speed from my last half marathon, training for a sub-1:30:00 finish, a 6’50”/mile pace. I hit all the marks of my training plan, tapered going into the race, practiced mobility, ate well. I felt primed to fly, and told myself to stay with the pace group until mile 11, at which point I could pull away and try to smash the goal.
It was supposed to be sweltering on race day, so the day before I drank lots of water. I had 16 ounces of electrolytes on top of lots and lots of water.
I went to bed early, woke up with enough time to eat and stretch, got to the race with plenty of time for a bathroom stop, made it into my corral just before it closed, and tied my shoes not-too-tight.
So at mile 6, when I ran through a raucous crowd and tried to hype myself up, feeling my quads getting heavy and my mind start to wobble, I was thinking to myself, What the hell is happening? I was fading way too early. I expected to feel bad at mile eleven, maybe even mile ten, or I guess possibly nine. But mile six was a problem. I had run six miles at race pace after teaching a full day of middle school. Why was my body shutting down?
Chairs
One week after his career-best performance, Sengun went down with a gruesome injury to his right leg. His whole ankle rolled sideways, his knee buckled inward, and he collapsed to the ground. His season was over.
The Rockets put together a string of wins, causing some analysts to wonder whether Sengun was actually holding Houston back from reaching its potential. Bill Simmons suggested the Rockets should trade him.
Fortunately - almost impossibly - Sengun’s MRI came back negative. None of his injuries would require surgery. Just a sprained ankle and a bruised knee. He’d be back by the start of next season.
I sat in the stranger’s lawn chair watching thousands of runners pass me, and I thought of Sengun in his wheelchair. A disaster, but a mitigated one.
Kirsten walked back to me from the finish line where she’d been expecting me. She sat with me and fed me fruit. After about an hour, we stood up and walked the course holding hands. She let me cross the finish line by myself. I asked a volunteer for two free bananas. Kirsten and I avoided the post-race party and made for the car.
Turns out, I probably flushed my electrolytes by drinking so much water the day before. My symptoms around mile 6 match that description, and the intensifying headache on the side of the road pretty much confirms it. My fitness wasn’t quite where it should have been, but it was likely more an issue of nutrition. Fans of the Ghost of the Monon Trail will remember:
"You know, the more marathons I run, the more I feel like it’s just an eating contest. …How your body responds to fueling on the move, …it’s more of an art than a science.” I damn near reached for a notepad, but the Ghost of the Monon Trail said farewell and turned back towards town.
I’d sustained that intense pace for damn near 80 minutes and needed just 10 more. On the side of the road, I was thinking, How foolish.
But now I’m thinking, Hey, that was pretty close.
Kirsten sent me this quote that she heard on a podcast recently, that “success maintains the illusion.” That we must fail to grow.
I’m disappointed because I really thought I was going to crack a 90 minute half, and it turns out I was not ready to do that. Maybe it will be more like the 2029 Boston Marathon, or further than that, or maybe never.
But the only way we find our limits is by going too far every now and then. I’m safe, I’m fine, and currently in full swing of training for the Chicago Marathon in October.
Savor Each Step
I saw my progress and, rightfully, I believe, tried to discover exactly what level I was at. I launched into substantial training and ran faster and faster until I crashed out. You could say this was a bit of a Jamal Murray heat check, but I think more truly it was a sign of me honoring my pledge for year 28:
After a year of testing my limits, I’m ready to get back to basics. I spend most of my time running, climbing, swimming, reading, writing, or cooking - things I feel like my body was meant to do. I feel comfortable pushing myself in these activities, and I’m doing so in a measure I can sustain for the long term. I’ll go for a run and stop for water when I want it. I’ll write a few pages each day and build my capacity for more.
Check, check, and check.
One day, I ran too fast. I can live with that.
But I think my race is also a symptom of a larger trend I’m noticing in myself as I approach my 29th birthday. I feel I’m on the precipice of major landmarks all throughout my life. I’ve been teaching for six years and a career change seemed to be signaling for me during the dark days of winter. My time in Chicago is not forever, and I’m feeling an itch to settle somewhere else. I wrote a lot of a memoir last year and was eager to publish it. I ran fast races and set my sights on Boston.
I’m nearing the end of my twenties and already eyeing 30.
There are only 31 players who have ever worn jersey number 29 in the NBA. At the time of publication, there are zero players on NBA rosters who will be wearing #29 this season.
There is, however, a player named Quenton Jackson who is consistently wearing number 29. The 26 year old guard has only played in 12 NBA games and scored 58 total points. Not much of a difference maker at this point in his career. My friend Thad said, “That guy seems like he’s destined to be thrown into a trade to make salaries work, then never be seen again.” That might happen.
But maybe Thad doesn’t know what he’s talking about!
He is currently signed with the Indiana Mad Ants, the Pacers’ G League affiliate team. Look at him going off in Summer League! (If you click that link, consider yourself a true Basketball Sicko.) I had already talked myself into buying a Mad Ants jersey, so I’m thrilled to see that he can actually play.
I see the poetry in this convergence of forces. An empty supply of #29’s (31 players all-time) while the reservoir of #30’s overflows (237 NBA players all-time).
I can picture the small-talk now: “How old are you turning? Twenty-nine? Wow! Thirty will be here before you know it.”
Just as turning twenty-nine begets a conversation about turning thirty, Running fast races begets a goal of running Boston, A lengthening career begets fidgetiness, Years in the city begets a longing for the woods, Hooping at Summer League begets questions about NBA potential.
I’m choosing to reject all that.
My mantra for this year is:
Savor Each Step
I feel my eyes wandering, but being at this stage of life doesn’t necessitate such longing. Focusing only on the future takes me away from the purpose I have today. Rather, being here, and being as excellent as I can, will illuminate options for whatever lies ahead.
If Quenton Jackson is a G League talent, then let him be a damn good one. If I’m a 3:30:00 marathoner, let me finish that race strong. If publishing a book is a long way away, let me enjoy my felicitous essays. If I’m in Chicago this next year, let me share my Espresso Standing Up with my friends. I’m in Chicago longer than that, let me really love this city.
Don’t skip steps, I’m repeating. Savor them.
I ran a 5K at the Montrose Track this month and I set the exact right goal. I ran comfortably for 10 laps, giving Kirsten a thumbs up each time around. I endured 2 more, claimed a PR and laughed about it with Kirsten afterwards. It wasn’t a tremendous chunk out of my best time, but a sizable chunk nonetheless. The perfect goal for where I’m at, now.
A summer 5K by Lake Michigan isn’t exactly the Chicago Marathon, and a Summer League Saturday night isn’t exactly an NBA game. But Quenton Jackson and I are here, now, making the most of our days, ready to take the next steps when it’s time.
I love this! 1. Chicago was my first and second marathons. 2. I live in Houston and Sengun is also currently my favorite Rockets player. 3. Boston Marathon is waiting for you to savor it!