On October 13, I ran the Chicago Marathon. This is the sixth time I’ve run this race. I’m usually able to get into the race with a qualifying time. Running this race is usually an excuse to travel to Chicago for the pizza. Chicago-style pizza is my favorite.
Hotels in Chicago are
expensive on race weekend. The flight
from Minneapolis to Chicago is relatively short, so I didn’t fly to Chicago
until Saturday morning.
I took a train into the
city from the airport, and arrived at my hotel around 9:30. I stayed at the Palmer House, which is just a
block away from Grant Park, where the race starts and finishes. I’ve stayed at this hotel twice before.
It was too early to check
into a room, so I left my bags at the hotel and went to the McCormick Place,
where the expo was held. After the expo,
I had lunch at Giordano’s., which is one of the better restaurants for deep
dish pizza.
After lunch, I went back
to the hotel, and I was able to check into my room. After bringing my bags up to my room, I did a
workout in the fitness room. Then I
organized my clothes for the race.
When I travel, I
sometimes look for styles of beer that I can’t find at home. I learned that a local brewery had
collaborated with a brewery in Kiev to produce a Ukrainian Golden Ale, which is
a style of beer I had never tried before.
I had some free time before dinner, so I took a train to a bar/beer
store on the north side that had this beer.
My friend Mary traveled
to Chicago to volunteer at both the 5K race and the marathon. I had dinner with Mary and three of her other
friends who were either running or volunteering.
We went to Chicago Pizza
& Oven Grinder Company. I had never
been to this restaurant before, but they have something called a pizza pot
pie. It’s like a deep-dish pizza, but
it’s baked with the crust on top. Then
they flip it over and cut it out of the pan, so the crust is more like a bowl.
Sunday was race day. I was conflicted about what to wear. I was expecting temperatures in the 50s, but
with strong winds. Normally, when the
temperature is above 50, I’ll wear shorts, but I didn’t know how cold it would
feel with the wind. Also, this is a race
where you spend a long time in the start corrals before the race actually
starts. I was worried about my legs
getting too cold while I was waiting in the corrals.
When I got up, it was 60
degrees. That was warmer than I
expected, but it looked like the temperature was still dropping. I still expected the temperature to be in the
50s for the whole race. I was still
worried about cold winds, so I reluctantly wore tights.
The marathon was divided
into three waves. The first wave started
at 7:30. I was in the second wave, which
didn’t start until 8:00. The race
organizers recommend arriving in Grant Park two hours before your wave
starts. I’ve learned to take that
recommendation seriously. There are
security checkpoints to get into the start area, and they need to inspect
everyone’s bags. If you don’t allow
enough time, you can get stuck in a long line.
I arrived at Grant Park
at 6:00. I got through the security
checkpoint quickly, so I had lots of time before I needed to be in my
corral. I had a jacket, gloves, and a
pair of wind pants, so I didn’t have to worry about getting cold while I
waited.
The gear check tents were
near Buckingham Fountain. There are also
benches around the fountain, so that’s where I was planning to wait. When I got to the fountain, I didn’t see any
port-o-potties. I saw some portable
changing rooms, but no port-o-potties. I
asked at one of the information tents, and a volunteer told me the nearest
port-o-potties were on the other side of the street with the start corrals.
I found the
port-o-potties. There were near the
corrals for people in the third wave.
When I got there, there wasn’t any line.
I did my business and then went back to the fountain, where I found a
bench I could sit on. I still had an
hour and a half before I needed to be in my corral.
I relaxed by the fountain
for about half an hour. I needed to make
another bathroom stop, but first I took off my wind pants and checked my gear
bag. I kept my jacket on.
I went back to the same
port-o-potties. It was harder to get to
them now, because more of the street was blocked off. There were lines, but they weren’t
unreasonably long.
After my second bathroom
stop, I still had 55 minutes before the start of my wave. I expected to make one more bathroom stop
before going to my corral. I was tempted
to immediately get back in line again, but I didn’t know how long it would take
it get to my corral. It was a long walk,
and I would have to get through thick crowds.
There were more
port-o-potties that were closer to my corral, so I went there instead. That was a mistake. The lines there were insane. There was a separate line for each
port-o-potty, and there were about 50 people in each line. I waited in line until it was obvious that I
didn’t have time. Then I gave up and went
to my corral. By then, the first wave
had started.
I was assigned to corral
F, which was the first corral of the second wave. When I got there, it looked like the corral
was already packed. There were dozens of
runners trying to get in, but there was only one entrance, and the volunteers
had to check each runner’s race bib.
There was hardly any room
to get into the corral. Some runners
were getting into the corral and then stopping near the entrance. One of the volunteers was telling us to keep
moving after we got into the corral. I
didn’t see any room near the back of the corral, so I started moving
forward. The farther I moved forward,
the more room I found. The corral was
only overcrowded near the back.
I ended up lining up
farther forward than I probably should have.
Near me, I saw a 3:35 pace group.
Just a short distance in front of me, I saw pace groups for 3:20, 3:25,
and 3:30. There was also a 3:40 group,
but they were lined up at the back of the corral. I couldn’t get anywhere near them.
Fifteen minutes before my
wave was due to start, they closed the entrances to the corrals, and started
moving us forward into the area where the runners in wave one had previously
lined up. As we slowly walked forward,
we had to step over clothing and water bottles that were discarded by the
runners in wave one.
Five minutes before our
start, we moved forward some more. I
took off my jacket and tied it around my waist.
It had been a long wait, but I knew it was about to get serious when I
heard them play “Sirius.” That’s the
same music they played just before the first wave started.
I knew two of the runners
who were leading the 3:45 group, but they were lined up in corral G. My plan was to start running on my own and
join the 3:45 group when they caught up to me.
Until then, I was planning to pace myself for about 3:50. That works out to about 8:46 per mile.
This race gets larger
every year. This year, there were more
than 50,000 runners. In a race that
large, the start is always congested. I didn’t
have a good feel for my pace. I just
moved my feet quickly and tried not to bump into anyone. That forced me to start at the pace of the
other runners in my corral, even though I had every reason to believe that
would be too fast.
In the first mile, we
crossed a bridge over the Chicago River.
It’s was one of those steel grate bridges that’s uncomfortable to run
on. There were a few bridges like this,
and they put carpet over the bridges to make them more comfortable for
running. I saw another runner trip on
the carpet. He almost fell, but he
managed to keep his balance.
Shortly after we made our
first turn, I heard my watch vibrate. It
was already recording my split for the first mile, even though I was sure I had
not run that far. It said I ran the
first mile in 6:38. I knew that was
wrong. I’m not capable of running that
fast.
When you’re surrounded by
tall buildings, you don’t have a direct line of sight to the GPs
satellites. Instead, the signal can
bounce off the sides of buildings. That
can really fool a GPS watch, so you see some weird results. It was almost two more minutes before I
reached the one-mile sign.
I checked my watch when I
finished the first mile. My actual time
for that mile was 8:31. That was too
fast, but it wasn’t crazy fast. I kept
running and didn’t worry too much about it.
I could settle into a slower pace later.
For now, I was just trying to make it around the corners without bumping
into people.
After the next turn, I
reached an aid station. In crowded races
like this, I’m always worried about bumping into other runners at the aid
stations. I waited for other runners to
move in and grab cups of Gatorade. When
it looked like there was nobody in the way, I angled toward one of the
volunteers who was holding out a cup.
Just then, a much faster running darted between me and the
volunteers. He bumped my shoulder,
pushing me away from the aid station. I
had to wait until that runner had taken his cup and moved past me. Then I was finally able to grab a cup.
The aid station
volunteers at this race all know what they’re doing. They hold the cups out, sometimes at arm’s
length. They hold them delicately and
let you grab them as you go by. I was
always able to grab a cup on the run and drink it without spilling. Normally, I slow to a walk while
drinking. In this race, I drank on the
run at every aid station. I never walked
a single step in the whole race.
The only problem at aid
stations was the other runners. More
than once, a runner sped between me and the volunteers, just as I was going to
grab a cup. More than once, the runner
in front of me suddenly stopped, forcing me to slow down or switch
directions. Thankfully, this became less
of a problem later in the race.
Long before I finished
the second mile, my watch was already recording a split. I ignored the splits my watch was recording,
because I didn’t trust them. I went “old
school.” I read my watch each time I
reached a mile marker. I used to do that
all the time. The hard part is
remembering your time at the previous mile marker, so you can subtract to get
your current pace. When I reached the
second mile marker, I saw that my pace was only one second slower than the
first mile.
By the third mile, I was
already getting hot and sweaty. There
wasn’t as much wind as I expected, and I was noticing some humidity. I was still running faster than I planned,
and getting too hot was likely to make the pace feel more tiring.
I never saw the sign for
three miles, but I saw the sign for 5K.
My time there was consistent with my time at two miles.
We were heading north
now. The last forecast I had seen showed
the wind coming mostly from the north.
We should have had a headwind now, but I still wasn’t noticing much
wind. Either I was wrong about the wind
direction or the wind wasn’t as strong as I was expecting. Either way, I was regretting my decision to
wear tights. I was overdressed.
I also regretted that I
wasn’t able to make another bathroom stop before the race. I could feel some pressure building up in my
intestines. I was sure I would need to
make a bathroom stop at some point, but I wanted to wait as long as
possible. I had two concerns. My first concern was that stopping this early
in the race might cause me to fall behind the 3:45 group that was somewhere
behind me. I don’t know how much stagger
there was between corrals. So far, I was
running slightly faster than their pace.
If I stopped for two or three minutes, they might go by me. I didn’t want to have to try to catch up to
them if I fell behind. My second concern
is that stopping might take me out of my rhythm. The runners around me were keeping me on a
fast pace. If I dropped back too far
because I stopped, I might suddenly be surrounded by slower runners.
By the time I reached the
five-mile mark, the sun came out. I was
expecting it to stay cloudy. Now I was
even more concerned that I would get too hot.
I hold up well when I’m hot, but it would make my pace feel more
tiring. I was still averaging about 8:32
per mile, and I questioned whether this pace would wear me down.
In mile six, I sped up a
little. For the first time, my pace was
under 8:30. Before, my pace just seemed
too fast. Now, it was starting to seem
crazy fast. Mile seven was also faster
than 8:30.
The aid stations usually
had music. Somewhere around seven miles,
I heard them playing “Maniac” from the movie Flashdance. I don’t listen to music during races, but
I’ve sometimes thought about creating a playlist where each song fits the
emotions you’re feeling at a specific point in the race. “Maniac” is a song that would definitely go
in my playlist, but I wouldn’t listen to it this early in the race. It’s an energetic song, and it might make me
run too fast, which is exactly what I was doing. It would be better for later in the race,
when you’re fighting to hang on.
By now, mostly of the
runners around me had settled into a similar pace, but I saw one guy weaving
around people like mad as he tried to move up.
He came up on my left, and then suddenly cut in front of me. As he did, one of his feet hooked my left
leg. I didn’t lose my balance, but he
did. He barely avoided falling. Then he continued weaving around people. He was adding all kinds of extra distance. I sometimes get bottled up behind slower
runners, but I try to be patient about finding an opening that makes it easy to
get around them.
In the eighth mile, I saw
a dump truck blocking the road ahead of us, so I knew we were about to
turn. We had reached the northernmost
point on the course. After turning the
corner, I saw someone dressed as Superman, complete with cape. Then I saw a runner next to him dressed as
Captain America, complete with shield. I
wondered if they were friends and they were running together. Then I wondered if they knew that their
characters were from rival comic book companies.
We didn’t go very far
before turning again. Now we were
heading south, back towards the downtown area.
I didn’t notice as much wind now.
If I was right about having a headwind before, we would have a tailwind
on our way back. I was still hot and
sweaty, so I needed a cooling breeze. I
wasn’t going to get one for several miles.
I felt like I was going
at a pace that might break me, especially if I was too hot. The sensible thing to do would be to slow
down to the 8:40s, which was the pace I was originally planning to run. Somehow, I was afraid to slow down. It wasn’t rational, but I thought if I
unhitched myself from the runners around me, I would slow down too much, and
then I wouldn’t be able to speed up again.
Experience told me my current effort wasn’t going to be sustainable for
the whole race, but I stuck with it out of this irrational fear of slowing
down.
At one point, I saw a
spectator holding up a sign that read, “Bears 7, Jaguars 3.” The Chicago Bears were playing in
London. It was an afternoon game there,
but in this time zone, it was a morning game.
I had a similar experience last weekend at the Twin Cities Marathon,
when the Minnesota Vikings were playing in London. If I didn’t know better, I would think the
NFL consults marathonguide.com before planning their schedules.
At 10 miles, if was easy
to compute my average pace. I was
averaging 8:31 per mile. That’s 15
seconds faster than my target pace.
Already, I was two and a half minutes ahead of schedule, but I pressed
on.
At another aid station, I
heard them playing “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves. That’s another fast-tempo high energy
song. I just fed on it.
I was also feeding off
the energy of the spectators. There were
thick crowds everywhere, and they were cheering us on. It reminded me of how I always feel running
through Brooklyn during the New York City Marathon. The crowds get you so excited that you just
can’t contain yourself.
Sometimes during a race,
I’ll reach a particular mile or kilometer marker and I’ll think about where I
would be on a different course that’s familiar to me. At 20K, it occurred to me that if I was
running the Boston Marathon, I was be arriving at the “Wellesley Scream
Tunnel.” I always feel fresh at that
point in the race. I was at the 20K mark
of this race, and I definitely didn’t not feel fresh.
I’ve had lots of other
races where I ran the first half at a pace that felt like this. About 95% of the time, the wheels came off in
the second half. The other 5% of the
time, I went on to do something special.
At this point in the race, I fully expected to blow up in the second
half, but I kept going at the same pace.
Ever since the first
mile, my watch was consistently recording splits long before I reached a mile
marker. I usually looked at it, but I
didn’t trust what it was telling me. When
it prematurely recorded a split for mile 13, the time it had for that mile was
much slower than my previous miles. I
didn’t think I slowed down in that mile.
It was easy to believe I might run out of gas at any time, but I was
still keeping up with all the runners around me. When I finished mile 13, I saw that I
actually sped up in that mile.
I reached the halfway
point in 1:51:32. I was almost three and
a half minutes ahead of my target time.
I was roughly on pace to finish in 3:43.
I can still remember my all-time
fastest marathon. It was the only time I
every broke three hours. For the first
half of the race, I thought I was running way too fast. I expected to blow up. When I still felt OK at the halfway point, I
started to believe that I might not blow up.
I was now at the same point of this race. I didn’t have that same confidence. I still expected to blow up.
I began to lose my fear
of slowing down. My primary goal was to
run a Boston qualifying time. After
running the first half of the race at a pace that was at least 15 second per
mile too fast, I could now afford to slow down by roughly 30 seconds per mile
in the second half. I could, but I
didn’t. Knowing I had room to slow down
emboldened me to keep up the pace.
My watch gave me another
wonky split for mile 14. It said I sped
up to 7:02 in that mile. We were back in
the downtown area, so we had been near tall buildings in that mile. I had every reason to distrust my watch, but
I did suspect I may have sped up a little.
I was curious to know what my time would be when I actually finished
that mile. Unfortunately, I got
distracted and forgot to look.
That was the beginning of
a pattern. For the next several miles, I
was only remembering to look at my watch every other mile. My two-mile splits were usually 17 minutes or
faster, so my average pace per mile was 8:30 or faster.
We were heading west now,
and I felt much more wind. I don’t know
what the wind direction was before, but now it was definitely a headwind. That was a huge relief. The wind went a long way toward cooling me
down. Also, it wasn’t sunny any
more. For the rest of the race, we had
cloud cover. That was just what I
needed.
Somewhere around here, I
realized that my digestive system had stabilized. I no longer felt like I needed a bathroom
stop. I wouldn’t stop until after the
race.
Maybe it’s because I was
running with more confidence, or maybe other people were starting to slow
down. I started to notice lots of slower
runners in front of me. I had to look
for openings, so I could move around them.
We crossed a street that
runs diagonally. Chicago has lots of
those. As I looked down that street, I
saw a Church’s Chicken restaurant. I
suddenly remembered running past one in this race in a previous year. As I looked closer, I saw a stream of runners
going the opposite direction on a different street. They were going right by Church’s
Chicken. This was the restaurant I
remembered. We just weren’t there yet.
Soon, I entered a block
with a sign saying, “Charity Block Party.”
On both sides of the street, there were dozens of canopies set up. Each one had the name of a different charitable
organization.
Shortly after the charity
block party, I saw a huge Mexican flag on the side of a building. It was the Mexican consulate. As I entered that block, I saw spectators
holding up Mexican flags. There are
several ethnic neighborhoods in the second half of the race. I knew we would go through a Mexican
neighborhood at some point, so I thought we were there. I was wrong.
That neighborhood would come later.
We reached the western
edge of this section of the course and turned left. We passed the 25K mark. Then we turned again. Now we were heading back toward the city
center. Ahead of me, I could see the
16-mile sign.
We continued toward
downtown, and we eventually passed Church’s Chicken. It’s funny the things that stick in your
memory during a race.
As we turned and briefly
headed south, I recognized most of our surroundings, but one thing seemed
different. We ran by a CTA station on
the blue line. There was a roof that extended
over the street from that station. I
don’t remember running under that before.
Was this a new building, or is my memory faulty?
We turned and headed west
again. Soon we ran through a
neighborhood where I saw posts painted with the colors of the Italian
flag. We had reached the Italian
neighborhood. I heard a spectator say we
had three more neighborhoods, but I don’t know which ones he meant.
Somewhere between 18 and
19 miles, we reached the westernmost part of this section. Even before I turned the corner, I remembered
exactly where the 19-mile mark was. I
also remember how I felt when I got there in previous years.
As I turned the corner, I
looked ahead and saw a large digital clock.
That was the 30K mark. When I
reached 30K, my watch was already recording a split for 19 miles. The 19-mile mark wasn’t visible yet. It was under a bridge.
When I reached 19 miles,
I had 7.2 miles to go. I remembered
another year when I reached this point and wondered if I could run those last
7.2 miles in an hour. I was almost on
pace to do that this year, but not quite.
The more relevant question was whether I could run those last 7.2 miles
in 69 minutes. If I could do that, I
would run a Boston qualifying time.
I had a lot of room to
slow down. At this point, I could slow
down by a minute per mile and still be on pace for a BQ. Knowing that gave me the confidence to keep
running hard. I didn’t feel like there
was much risk now. Even if I ran out of
gas, I wasn’t likely to slow down by more than a minute per mile. I felt like I didn’t have anything to lose,
so I went for it.
As we turned the corner
and headed east again, we ran through the Mexican neighborhood. There was music, and lots of Mexican flags.
As we continued east, I
eventually spotted a bridge in the distance.
I remembered this bridge. I also
remembered, that there was a slight ramp coming up to the bridge. In any other race, you wouldn’t call it a
hill. In Chicago, it may be the biggest
hill on the course. If not, it’s the
second biggest.
This was another bridge
with carpet, but only on one side. There
were runners walking the bridge, and there was barely enough room to get around
them while staying on the carpet.
Just after the bridge, I
reached the 21-mile sign. After another
block or two, I entered Chinatown. This
is my favorite neighborhood in the whole race.
It’s a colorful neighborhood, and the crowds really turn out for the
race.
After Chinatown, I had to
run one more mile to reach Michigan Avenue.
The last few miles of the race are on Michigan Avenue, running north
toward Grant Park. First, however, we
had to turn right and head south on Michigan Avenue. It bothered me to know I was running away
from Grant Park.
On the other side of the
street, I could see runners who were already heading north. Looking ahead, I could see the 24-mile sign,
but it was on the opposite side of the street.
I wasn’t even to 23 yet.
This was another area
where I had to work to get around slower runners. It was more understandable now. Most people start to slow down in these late
miles. I wasn’t showing any sign of
slowing down. With fewer miles to go, I
was running with more confidence.
When I finished mile 23,
I checked my time. The first thing I
asked myself is if I would still break 3:50 if I slowed to 10 miles per mile
the rest of the way. The answer was yes,
by a wide margin. I could slow to 11
minutes per mile, and I would still break 3:50.
My BQ was absolutely in the bag.
I could afford to slow down, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to finish strong. Now, it was a matter of pride.
We made a small loop, and
then we got back onto Michigan Avenue going north. This is the part of the race where I’ve
always struggled to maintain my pace.
Some years, I’ve struggled just to finish this section. I had been looking forward to getting there,
but it’s a part of the course I usually dread.
The wind had apparently
shifted. Earlier it seemed to be coming
from the west. Now, it was definitely
coming from the north. It was also much
stronger now. This was the wind I had
been expecting. Running into this wind,
my hands got cold.
I heard another
high-energy song. It was “Gonna Make You
Sweat (Everybody Dance Now).” That’s
what I needed to hear. It pumped me up,
and I put even more energy into my pace.
One of the impressive
things about this race is that they have signs for every kilometer, in addition
to every mile. When I reached the 39K
sign, I had 3,200 meters to go. That’s
the equivalent of eight laps around a track.
That thought wasn’t actually all that helpful. I wouldn’t know when I completed each 400
meters, so I couldn’t count down those laps.
When I reached the 40K
sign, I had the equivalent of five and a half laps around a track. That’s better than eight laps, but it still
wasn’t all that helpful.
After the 25-mile sign,
there’s a one mile to go sign. I looked
at my watch. If I kept up the same pace,
I would run negative splits, but it might be close. That lit a fire under me. I had a new goal now. I ran much faster the rest of the way.
I reached the 41K
sign. Now I had just 1,200 meters. That’s like three laps around a track. From there out, there were signs every 400
meters, so that was now a useful way to look at the remaining distance.
When my watch recorded a
split for mile 26, I was nowhere near the 26-mile mark. It was still about half a mile away. It said I sped up to 7:59 in that mile, but I
didn’t know if I could trust it. I was
speeding up, though.
I reached the 800 meters
to go sign. Now, it was just two laps
around a track. I poured it on.
I made the turn at
Roosevelt and started climbing up to the bridge over some railroad tracks. If the bridge at 21 wasn’t the largest hill,
this was. I ran up the ramp as hard as I
could. I don’t know if I maintained the
same pace, but if I didn’t, it wasn’t for lack of effort.
At the top of the bridge,
there was a 300-meters to go sign. I
started running downhill, and then I reached the final turn. There was a 42K sign. There was also a 200-meters to go sign.
After that last turn, I
could see the finish line. I tried to
run hard, but I was running out of gas.
Then I reminded myself that I was running for negative splits. I still thought it might be close. It wasn’t even remotely close. Those last two miles were my fastest of the
race.
I finished in
3:41:07. I ran negative splits by almost
two minutes. I still can’t believe how
strong I ran. Two of my fastest races this year were on courses that descended at least 3,000 feet. Excluding those two races, this was my second fastest marathon of the year.
As I moved through the
finish area, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I started getting cold. I was going to put on my jacket, but then I
saw the volunteers handing out heat sheets.
That was easier. Best of all,
this is one of the races where there are volunteers taping the heat sheets in
place, so your can keep your hands free for other things. The only other races I know that do that are
New York City and Boston.
Post-race food included
bananas, apples, energy bars, Rice Krispy bars, and donuts. Beverages included water, Muscle Milk, and
beer.
Mary was volunteering in
the food area, so I was hoping to see her after I finished. I stayed in the finisher chute longer than I
should have so I could look for her, but I wasn’t able to spot her.
I made my way to the gear
check tents to retrieve my gear bag.
Then I made a bathroom stop before leaving Grant Park to walk back to my
hotel. They had a post-race party area with
more beer, but I just wanted to get back to my room and get cleaned up.
I spent the rest of the
afternoon refueling, recovering, and relaxing at the hotel. In the evening, I went to Navy Pier to have
dinner with friends who traveled here from England. We have a few friends in common, so I also
knew some of the runners from the US.
I had to get up early on
Monday to get to the airport for a morning flight. It was much colder, and there was some
rain. I’m glad we didn’t have those
conditions for the race.
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