My lovely wife, Liz, and I just ran the Chicago Marathon. We expected it to be warm, so we chose our lightest-weight running costumes. I don’t remember how it was that Liz came to refer to running wear as “running costume”, but I love the description and we both use it. We were in our costumes and had left our hotel room on our way to the start. Once again we were in a pretty nice hotel pretty near the start/finish, so we weren’t surprised by the number of runners already in the elevator when the doors opened. We were delighted to hear some of the elevator’s occupants talking about it being “kinda cold” out. Stepping out of the lobby, though, we immediately took issue with the “kinda cold” assessment. The Chicago Tribune reported a temperature of 65 degrees F at the start of the race and 84 degrees F three hours later. I’d say it was kinda hot.
We had packed a recovery drink and clean clothes in our gear-check bag. Liz’s sister, brother-in-law and an old friend planned to meet us at the finish, and we thought clean clothes might be worthwhile. Our gear-check bag also included sun screen and an old pair of my glasses – the ability to read might come in handy, too. Unfortunately, gear check required us to walk about a mile out of our way. We both had spots in the seeded start corrals, and we had a special gear-check tent very near the finish – not so near the start corrals. I like to walk a bit after the race, so I’d prefer the gear check to be near the start rather than the finish. Oh, well, nobody asked me. We dropped off the gear bag and took the recommended path to the entrance to the seeded corrals and entered the special area where we hoped to relax a bit before the race. There were surprisingly few porta-potties inside the special area. Lines weren’t too long, though, and we were able to visit the facilities pretty quickly. With about 45 minutes left before the start, we got in line for a second/final visit to the potty. The seeded corrals are closed 15 minutes before the start, so we really had only 30 minutes. It didn’t look like we’d make it through the line in half an hour, so we nervously left the seeded area and ran back to some potties we’d seen out in the less special world. The line was much shorter where we ended up, but it was still nervous-making. After about twenty anxious minutes we got our turns in the precious plastic booths, and, yes, they were out of toilet paper. We ran back to the seeded area and both got to our corrals in time. As I passed through the gate to enter my corral I heard an official say the gate would close in 30 seconds! I cut that a little close!
I’d frittered away too much energy already, so I spent a few minutes calming myself down. I looked for an acquaintance from Bend who runs about the same pace as I do and who had qualified for the same corral, but I didn’t find her. I positioned myself a little ahead of the 3:10 pace group and waited for the start. I hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about a goal pace or finish time, but had a hunch I could beat 3:10 if the heat didn’t mess with me too much. There were three starts. At 7:50 the wheelchair racers were sent on their way. At 7:55 the elite racers took off, and the rest of us started at 8:00. I was in Corral A – which put me very near the front of the crowd. I was across the start line and running within 30 seconds. I started my watch and tried to find my pace.
The first mile was pretty crowded, and it seemed to me that we were going pretty slowly – maybe a 7:30 pace. I wanted to go faster, but knew there was no point in trying. I stayed in my slot and was careful not to trip or step on anybody. We crossed the Chicago River but I didn’t notice – too busy watching the ground right in front of me. It was too crowded to do any sightseeing. At the first mile marker I glanced at my watch and saw 6:46. Well, good thing the crowd had held me back and protected me from myself! I eased up a bit and worked carefully through a couple corners as we headed back across the river and into the Loop. The crowds of spectators were amazing! I guess that’s a good thing that comes with warm weather. There weren’t nearly as many spectators when I ran Chicago in cold, windy conditions in 2006. At the second mile marker I was pleased to see 13:45 – a 6:59 mile. We headed north out of the Loop and across the river again. The long straight section of wide road gave us room to spread out and settle into our own races. I clicked off a number of comfortable 7-minute miles. The sun was low enough that buildings and trees kept us in the shade until we reached Lakeshore Drive at about the 7th mile marker. I saw Liz’s old friend and waved to her and her sweetie in a sunny section in front of their condo building. After just a few blocks exposed to the sun I was very happy to turn a corner and get back in the shade. I was in the shade and comfortable most of the way back into the Loop, and the miles kept passing at a 7:00 pace. Just before the halfway point we passed the Sears Tower and turned west. Shade ended as we left the tall buildings. The temperature was 75 degrees F by the time I hit the half at 1:31:40.
The first half had been comfortable and fun, but it was starting to feel like the fun was about to end. My quads had started complaining a little at 10 miles, and that was not a good sign. The neighborhoods were interesting, but the heat was working on me and my pace started to slide. I wasn’t struggling yet, but my legs hurt and I wasn’t very springy as I passed through the Italian neighborhood. The download from my Garmin says I’d dropped to a 7:10 pace by mile 18. In Pilsen, the colorful Mexican neighborhood, I saw my acquaintance from Bend. She asked how I was doing, and I replied that I was more tired than I’d hoped to be. She said, “Me, too.” I had dropped to a 7:15 pace and was surprised to pass her. The discomfort in my legs had leveled off – it wasn’t getting any worse – and that was encouraging. My elapsed time at 21 miles was very nearly the same as it had been in Portland in 2007. I realized that I could have a new personal best if I could just hang on and fade less in the last 5 miles than I had in Portland the previous year. I was feeling better than I’d felt in Portland at that point, so I decided it was possible – despite the heat.
After passing under the gate into Chinatown, we headed south and there was a bit of shade on the east side of the street. I nudged over as far as I could into the shade and focused on technique. The focus helped and I felt surprisingly strong. In the middle of Chinatown I heard “Go, Dave” and saw Liz’s sister, Susan. I knew she planned to be somewhere on the course, but had not expected to see her. Her encouragement gave me an extra boost. South of Chinatown there’s a long, empty section next to a freeway. It’s a little like a sensory-deprivation experiment: very hard for me to stay focused in that section. After the empty section there’s a little green space as we pass the Illinois Institute of Technology, then we get to make a turn and start back north toward the finish. I had a bit of brain fade in the freeway section and got excited when I saw a left turn coming up. I thought it was the turn that marked the southern-most point on the course and enjoyed a moment of personal celebration. But then I wondered why I couldn’t remember passing by IIT. About the time I reached the corner I realized I’d celebrated prematurely and IIT was still ahead of me. IIT offered a bit of shade and a break from concrete, so my disappointment passed quickly. Shortly I’d passed the 23rd mile marker and reached the real southernmost point and made the turn onto Michigan Ave. for the long haul north to the finish. There were a few trees here and there, but most of the final three miles was in the sun. The little bit of breeze was from the south, so it was a tailwind and blew at about the speed I was running. It was worse than still air and it was pretty hot. My pace between the 35K and 40K chip mats averaged 7:38 minutes per mile. I was definitely feeling the heat. I had increased my effort about halfway through that 5K – thinking I could hold a higher effort for the final three miles. I was working harder and going slower – but I didn’t know how much slower because I was consciously ignoring my watch. I was working hard, but I wasn’t struggling. I was pleased by that. With two miles to go I resumed thinking about time. I could see that I’d faded a lot. If I wanted a new personal best, I’d have to notch it up another level. I thought about it a little – I knew it could be dangerous to push too hard in the heat. I concluded I was OK, but thought it would be prudent to reevaluate when I reached mile 25. When I reached that point, I was feeling the effort, but didn’t feel any worse than I’d felt in Portland last year. So I decided to push a little harder still. It was, I think, about as well as I’ve ever felt so near the end of a marathon. I was tired and hurting, but not struggling. I didn’t want to stop.
The Chicago Marathon ends with a right turn off Michigan to a small climb up an overpass to mile 26 followed by a left turn and a short downhill to the finish. I was searching for any sign of that right turn and was excited to see heads bobbing off to the right! I stepped it up again as I turned the corner and charged up that little overpass as hard as I could. It’s amazing how tall an overpass can seem! Finally, though, the road leveled off and the left turn came into view. I kept pouring it on through the corner and charged at the finish – though “charging” is a relative term at this point. I was eager to be done. The clocks showed the time from the start of the elite race – five minutes and something before I crossed the line. I couldn’t remember what my start delay had been and didn’t want to glance at my watch. The clock showed 3:13:39 as I crossed the finish but I wasn’t sure I had a new personal best until I stopped my watch and saw 3:08 on my wrist. The preliminary results on the Chicago Marathon website say I finished in 3:08:22 – 59 seconds faster than my previous best from Portland last year. I was delighted – and still am! The status box that pops up when I click on my name (in the searchable results) says I was 685th overall and 18th in my age division (M50-54).
I got my medal and turned in my chip. A nice volunteer handed me a bag of ice to put on my head, and I made my way to the gear check tent. As I got my bag I heard Liz’s friend, Chris, calling my name. She’d been in the bleachers at the finish, had seen me go by and was able to track me down. She led me through the maze back to the bleachers and we waited for Liz. I’d carried my cell phone with me. It’s a well-travelled phone – it has finished several marathons with me, including Chicago (twice), New York, Boston, and Portland (at least twice). I was thinking of calling my darling daughter to see if she could check the website to tell me how Liz was doing. I stepped behind the bleachers to a quieter spot and discovered my daughter had already left a message. In her message she congratulated her old dad and told me that Liz had passed 35K at 3:22. My hot brain (with ice hat still in place) took a while to figure out that Liz was not likely to finish with a Boston-qualifying time as she’d hoped to do. She needed to cross the finish in 4:05:59 to get to go to Boston. When she came by she was obviously hot and working very hard. She ended up missing her goal by three minutes and forty-five seconds. She was disappointed, but I was in awe of her strength, stamina and perseverance! She’d been out in the heat for an hour longer than I had and she’d kept pushing even when she knew she’d not make her goal time. In addition to time she lost because of the heat, gastro-intestinal distress sent her into porta-potties three times during the race. It is disappointing that circumstances slowed her down, but her effort was inspiring to me. I’m lucky enough to have lungs and legs that can carry me around the course faster, and that saved me from the worst of the heat. I’m sure my race was a lot easier than hers, and my hat goes off to her for an awesome performance! She’s amazing, and I’m very lucky to be married to her.
