On October 9, I ran the Chicago Marathon. It’s the fifth time I’ve done this race. It’s one of the six World Marathon Majors. Unlike London and Tokyo, it’s not difficult to get into the race. Unlike Boston and New York City, it doesn’t have difficult logistics. When I signed up, I knew I’d be giving up the opportunity to do one of the other good October races, but there’s another reason I come back to Chicago so often.
It's no secret that pizza
is my favorite food. I especially like
Chicago-style pizza. When I travel to
Chicago for the marathon, I know I’ll also have a few opportunities to enjoy
deep dish or stuffed pizza.
Chicago hotels are
expensive, so I only spent two nights in Chicago. With that in mind, I booked the earliest
flight I could get. I wanted to arrive
in plenty of time for lunch, so I could enjoy one extra pizza meal.
When I registered for the
race, I booked a room at the Doubletree hotel near Navy pier. Most of the hotels near Grant Park were either
fully booked or had blocks of rooms that were reserved. Two weeks before the race, Deb suggested that
I should check if any of the closer hotels had a cancellation. Surprisingly, I was able to get a room at the
Hilton. The Doubletree is a reasonably
close hotel, but no hotel is more convenient than the Hilton. It’s right across the street from Grant Park The rate was expensive, but I had enough
Hilton points to get two free nights using my points.
I took the train into
town from the airport. The tickets had a
special design for the weekend of the marathon.
I got to the Hilton by
10:00. I was expecting to have to check
my bags until a room was ready, but my room was ready when I arrived. I took my time unpacking and settling in
until it was time for lunch.
My room was on the west
side of the building, and I was on a high floor. When I raised the shade, I had this view.
The Hilton is an older
hotel, so it has older style elevators.
The panels don’t have enough buttons for every floor, so different
elevators go to different floors. When I
checked in, they told me which bank of elevators would go to my floor. I’ve stayed at the Palmer House before, and it’s
the same way.
I’ve been to several of
the good Chicago-style pizza places already.
One of the best for deep-dish pizza is Lou Malnati’s. One of their locations was just two blocks
from the Hilton, so I went there for lunch.
I finished eating lunch
in time to join some other runners for a group photo in front of Cloud Gate (a.k.a.
“The Bean”) in Millennium Park. One of
the runners I met there also needed to go to the expo, so we went together.
The expo was at McCormick
Place. We walked over to the Hilton,
thinking we could take a bus from there.
In the past, the Hilton was one of the hotels with buses to the
expo. When we got to the Hilton, we
found out that there aren’t any buses this year, but someone forgot to update
that on the website for the marathon.
You can take a train part
of the way to McCormick Place, but you still have to walk about a mile. Before we decided how we were going to get
there, another runner who was taking a taxi to McCormick Place asked us if we
wanted to share his taxi. Splitting the fare
three ways, it only cost five dollars each, and it was much quicker.
The two of us went
through the expo together, first picking up our race packets and then visiting
some of the booths. One booth I always
visit is the Goose Island booth, where they have free beer samples.
Both of us were staying
in hotels near Grant Park, so we decided to walk back. It was only two miles, and it was mostly
through parks. Our route took us past
Soldier Field and the Field Museum, and through the south end of Grant Park.
After getting back to the
hotel, I went through the contents of my race packet. One of the product samples was a drink mix powder. I was thirsty after all that walking, so I
mixed it in a water bottle that I was keeping in the fridge. It didn’t mix well with water that was
refrigerated. I mixed it as best I
could, drank about half and left the rest for later. The package said it was a protein drink, but
it tasted more like Gatorade.
Next, I organized my
clothes for the race, and picked up some food for breakfast in the hotel store. Then I had an early dinner.
For dinner, I was hoping
to go to Edwardo’s Natural Pizza, which specializes in stuffed pizza. Then I found out that they’re only doing
take-out and delivery. Instead, I went to
Giordano’s, which also has stuffed pizza.
They don’t take reservations, and there were lots of people already
waiting for tables. One advantage of
dining alone is that I was able to get a seat at the bar without waiting. While I was there, I had a wonderful conversation
with three runners from Italy who sat down next to me.
Deciding how to dress for
the race was tricky. On the morning of
the race, the temperature was in the low 40s.
With the wind, it felt like upper 30s. By the time I finished, however,
it would get up to 60. My legs don’t respond well to cooler
temperatures, so I dressed for the conditions at the start, knowing I would get
hot toward the end of the race.
When the temperature is
below 50 degrees, I wear tights to keep my legs warm. Since I was wearing tights, I opted to wear
my cheetah ensemble. This race has large
crowds, and that outfit always gets lots of reactions from the spectators.
The marathon starts and
finishes in Grant Park. They have a gear
check in the park, but I opted to wear throwaway clothes so I wouldn’t have to
bother with the gear check. To keep warm
until the race started, I wore one of those ponchos that they give you when you
finish the New York City Marathon. I
have two, so I didn’t mind leaving one behind.
My hotel was right next to the park, so I wasn’t worried about having
warm clothes after the race.
I was in the second wave,
which didn’t start until 8:00 AM. The
race organizers recommended getting to Grant Park two hours early. Six years ago, I learned the hard way what
happens if you wait until the last minute.
You take so long getting through the security checkpoint that you don’t
have time to make a bathroom stop. This
year, I took that recommendation more seriously.
I left the hotel at
5:45. Apparently, the wheelchair athletes
were all staying at the Hilton. At the
same time I was leaving, several of the wheelchairs athletes were being
escorted to the start area.
If you arrive too late,
it can take 30 minutes to get through the security checkpoint. If you’re early, you can get through in just
a few minutes. That was my experience
this year. After getting through the
security checkpoint, I made my way to Buckingham Fountain. I knew from past experience that there are
benches there. I didn’t want to spend
two hours on my feet.
Most of the benches were
already taken by runners who arrived even earlier because they were in the
first wave, I eventually found a spot to
sit, and I spend the next 45 minutes talking to the runners next to me. One was from Chicago. The other was from Copenhagen,
As it got closer to 7:00,
I got in line for the port-o-potties. I
was surprised how long the lines were.
It took more than 20 minutes.
When I was done, I started walking to my start corral. They close the corrals 15 minutes before the
start of the wave. It didn’t take as
long as I expected to get to me corral, so I was there more than 30 minutes
before my wave started.
While I was in the start
corral, I saw a runner wearing a zebra outfit.
I went over to him, showed him what I was wearing, and told him he
better run fast, because I was higher on the food chain.
The first wave started at
7:30, but they waited 15 more minutes before moving the runners in my wave
closer to the starting line. I assume they
were waiting until after they closed the entrance to the corrals.
We moved up closer to the
starting line a little at a time. I
waited until I could see the starting line before taking off my poncho and tossing
it over the fence. Most of the other
runners were also discarding warm-up layers shortly before the start. Dozens of volunteers with large plastic bags
were gathering up the clothes. I assume
everything got donated.
There was a large sound
system near the starting line. When they
weren’t doing announcements, they were playing music. I don’t recall most of it, but I remember
what they played just before the start of my wave.
With two minutes to go, they
started playing an instrumental called “Sirius” by the Alan Parsons
Project. That’s the music they always
play before a Chicago Bulls game, as they’re introducing the starting lineup. The crowd of runners got quiet. I’m sure most of them, like me, were suddenly
filled with anticipation. It was about
to get real.
During my last race, I
experienced soreness in my lower back late in the race. It was worse in the evening. I didn’t understand why my back was so sore
until I saw my race photos. Almost all
of them showed me leaning backwards as I ran, causing me to arch my lower back. I suspect that was related to my running with
an abnormally short stride and striking the ground differently. For this race, I chose to run with a more
natural stride.
The point of the shorter
stride was to reduce the strain on an injured hamstring tendon in my left leg. During
the week, I iced that area frequently, and I mostly rested. I only ran once. I knew running with a natural stride would be
harder on that tendon, but I was hoping I had recovered enough that I could get
away with it.
There were four corrals
for my wave. Mine was in front, so I didn’t
have as many runners in front of me as I usually do. The runners in the first wave started 30
minutes earlier, so those runners were already miles ahead of us. As I started running, I was surprised how
easily I could run whatever pace I wanted.
I wasn’t held back by thousands of runners who were starting slow because
there was no room to run. I quickly realized
that I could easily start too fast if I wasn’t careful.
Early in the first mile,
we crossed a bridge over the Chicago River.
The bridge surface was a steel grate, but the middle of the bridge was
covered with carpet, so we had a better running surface. I moved to the middle of the street, so I
could run on the carpet.
After crossing the bridge,
I moved gradually to the left, knowing we would have a left turn soon. Navigating the turns is usually
nerve-wracking, as we’re usually packed in like sardines in the early
miles. This year, it wasn’t bad. Being in the first corral of my wave made a
big difference.
The tall buildings in downtown
Chicago can reflect GPS signals. If you
rely on a GPS watch to know your pace, you can get some misleading data. I wore a plain stopwatch and checked my time when
I passed the mile markers. After one
mile, I saw that I started way too fast.
I ran that mile in less than nine minutes.
If I was running that
fast, then all the people around me were running that fast too. I’m often influenced by the runners around me. I tend to run with the herd. If I continued to do that, I would continue
to run too fast.
Early in the second mile,
we made another left turn. Then we got
to an aid station. I skipped this one,
knowing that we would have aid stations every mile for the rest of the race. Skipping the first one made it easier to avoid
bumping into people as they moved to the side of the street to grab cups of
water or Gatorade.
I was trying to
disconnect myself from the runners around me, but I didn’t do a very good
job. My second mile wasn’t quite as fast
as my first mile, but it was still under nine minutes.
Early in the third mile,
we had two more sharp turns. After those
turns, I knew we would be heading north for several miles, and there wouldn’t
be as many turns. I finally focused on
running my own pace and starting to drift back in relation to the runners
around me. I ran the third mile in
9:18. That wasn’t as fast as the first
two miles, but it was still faster than I ran in my last race. Last weekend, my mile times mostly ranged
between 9:25 and 9:35.
Early in the fourth mile,
I reached the second aid station. After
slowing to a walk to drink a cup of Gatorade, I resumed running. That gave me an opportunity to adjust my
pace. Instead of resuming my previous
pace, I made a conscious effort to establish a pace that wasn’t as fast as the
runners around me. I overcompensated,
slowing all the way to 9:38 in that mile.
Early in the next mile, a
large pace group caught up to me. It was
the 3:50 group. They must have started
the race behind me. I matched my pace to
theirs just long enough to see what it felt like. Then I drifted back behind them. Although I only ran with them briefly, it
caused me to run a little bit faster for the rest of that mile. I got my pace back to the 9:20s, which is
about where I wanted it to be.
All along the course, there
were banners attached to the street posts.
As we ran by the Lincoln Park Zoo, I saw banners that had a pattern similar
to the clothes I was wearing. It made me
feel like I found my home.
I never noticed the sign
for six miles, so I didn’t check my pace again until I finished seven. I sped up significantly in those two miles,
averaging 9:07. The pace didn’t feel
sustainable. In recent races, I’ve been
running with a short rapid stride, which always feels tiring. I think I got accustomed to feeling tired,
even in the early miles of a race. In
the race, I had a much more natural stride.
It felt much easier, but I was now going so fast, that it felt just as
tiring as my last race.
In the eighth mile, we reached
the northernmost point on the course and made a left turn. Then we crossed a timing mat. They had timing mats every 5K, but this one
was in the middle of the eighth mile, which was an odd location. I think it was there to ensure nobody cut the
course.
Before the end of that
mile, we turned again and started heading south. Over the next several miles, we would
gradually make our way back to the downtown area. I was finally feeling warm enough to take off
my gloves. For now, I was comfortable,
but I worried that I would get hot in the second half of the race.
I ran my ninth mile in
9:11, and I started to get overconfident.
Two weeks ago, I ran at a pace that started feeling tiring after only
about eight miles. Amazingly, I kept up
that pace for the whole race. Last week,
my pace felt tiring after only five miles.
I nevertheless kept up that pace until the last few miles. That not how it usually works. In general, you should never find the pace to
be tiring in the first half of the race.
I found the pace to be
tiring. It didn’t feel sustainable, but
my recent experiences gave me confidence that I could do it again. I kept up roughly the same pace for the next
two miles.
Somewhere around nine or
ten miles, I heard someone shout my name.
I looked to my right, but it’s hard to spot someone in a large crowd of
spectators as you’re running by. Also, I
was on the opposite side of the street.
From where I was on the course, I’m guessing it was my friend
Eliot. He lives on the north side, and I
knew he wasn’t running the marathon this year.
Coming back into the
downtown area, there were more turns than I remembered. I lost track of where I was in the city. In the next few miles, I didn’t have good
situational awareness. We crossed more
bridges that had a steel grate surface.
There was carpet, but only a narrow strip on the right. On two of the bridges, I was on the left side
of the street as we approached the bridge and then had to slow down to cross
over to the right side to get onto the carpet.
Through 11 miles, I was averaging
about 9:10 per mile. It seemed like a
slam dunk that I would reach the halfway mark in two hours. In miles 12 and 13, I averaged 9:23 per mile. The bridges slowed me down a little, but that
wasn’t the whole story. I was beginning
to find the faster pace too difficult to sustain.
In the next mile, I was
on the left side of the street as I reached an aid station, and I had to slow
down to cross over to the right side in time to grab a cup of Gatorade. They had water and Gatorade on both sides of
the street, but I’m right-handed, so I wanted to grab the cup with my right
hand. Knowing that, I shouldn’t have let
myself drift over to the left side of the street. Again, I had poor situational awareness.
In mile 13, I slowed to
9:38. It was obvious at that point that
I wouldn’t run the first half in two hours.
I got there in 2:00:50. I couldn’t
reasonably expect to finish the race in four hours, yet I was disappointed that
I didn’t run the first half in two hours.
I expected to slow down
in the second half. I was a little
worried that my fast pace would break me, and I was even more worried that I
would get hot. I was dressed for 40
degrees. It was already in the 50s, and
it would get up to 60 by the time I finished.
I didn’t know when I would start to feel hot, but I knew it would be a
factor at some point. I was hopeful that
I could break 4:05, but I knew I would have to really work for it.
I was passed by another
pace group. It was another 3:50
group. To be catching up to me this late
in the race, they must’ve crossed the starting lane about six minutes after I
did. That seemed plausible, but only if
they started in the last corral of wave two.
Occasionally, a spectator
would dart across the street when they saw a large enough gap between
runners. One guy tried to do that, but
he was crossing right in front of me. I
had to come almost to a stop to keep from running into him. Making such an abrupt adjustment to my stride
caused some soreness in my left hamstring tendon. Before that, I had barely noticed it. It feels OK when I maintain a nice consistent
rhythm, but sudden starts or stops can still make it feel sore.
In mile 14, I put in
enough effort to get my pace back down to 9:25.
My goal at this point was to keep my pace for the remaining miles below
9:30. If I could do that, I would break
4:05.
By now, I wasn’t the only
one who was slowing down. Most runners
were. I started looking for the runners
who looked the strongest, and I forced myself to keep up with them. In the next mile, I sped up to 9:19. That would be the last time that I got under
9:20.
We were now headed east
toward downtown. In front of me, I could
see the tallest building in the city. I knew
we would turn before we got there, but it gave me something to focus on.
Along this street, I saw
signs indicating we were on the historic Route 66. Route 66 used to run from Chicago to Los
Angeles. I’ve seen similar signs while running
races in Tulsa and Albuquerque. I’ve
also seen the sign where the highway ended, near Santa Monica Pier.
I faltered in mile 16,
slowing into the 9:30s again. Then I
picked out a runner who I kept seeing moving up through the field, and I tried
to catch up to her. That enabled me to get
my pace down to 9:23 in mile 17. I
worked hard to catch up to her and then suddenly she slowed down. I went right by her, and I no longer had a
rabbit to chase.
In the second half of the
race, we ran through several ethnic neighborhoods. I didn’t recognize all of them, but I noticed
a Greek neighborhood, a Mexican neighborhood, and an Italian neighborhood. We zigzagged west and back east a couple of
times. By the time I reached the Italian
neighborhood, we were headed back east for the last time.
Mile 18 would be the last
one where I still kept up the pace I needed to break 4:05. In the next mile, I could feel myself slowing
down. I neglected to look at my watch at
the 19-mile mark. When I got to 20, I
saw that I had slowed to an average pace of 9:53 in those two miles. Someone in the crowd was playing “Gangnam Style.” That briefly energized me, but I never got
back to my previous pace.
With 10K to go, I had to
adjust my goals. To beat the time from
my last race, I just needed to average 10 minutes per mile. That sounded easy, but my previous two miles
weren’t much faster that that. I had to
stop the hemorrhaging.
As I neared the end of
the 21st mile, I was approaching a bridge.
I saw the runners ahead of me all veering toward the right. I followed them. It wasn’t until I reached the bridge that I
noticed this was another one where you wanted to run on the carpet, and it was
only on the right side.
The bridge was a small
hill. I worked hard to keep from slowing
down. I actually picked up the pace a
little in that mile. I got back into the
9:40s.
Before the race, the announcer
told us we would run through 29 neighborhoods.
Of those, my favorite was Chinatown.
We entered Chinatown somewhere between 21 and 22 miles. Chinatown is the most easily recognizable neighborhood,
and it always has great crowds. I ran
that mile a few seconds faster than the previous one.
As we reached Michigan
Avenue, I saw runners heading north, but first we had to turn right and head
south. Shortly after making the turn, I
saw the 24 sign, but it was on the opposite side of the street. We would have to run south for almost a mile
before turned and heading back.
Ahead of me, I saw a
runner with a sign on his back. It said
his name was Edwin, and this was his first marathon. I wanted to catch up to him, so I could say
something encouraging. I tried, but he
was too fast for me. Then we reached an
aid station, and he stopped briefly to stretch.
I cheered him on as I slowed down to grab a cup of Gatorade.
Before long, Edwin caught
up to me again. For the rest of the
race, we leapfrogged. He was running a
little bit faster, but he would sometimes stop to stretch. When he passed me, I would tell him he was
not only running a marathon, but he was running faster than a cheetah.
In mile 23, I slowed to
9:56. I was slowing down, but I was doing
what I needed to do to beat my time from last week. That was my only goal at this point.
We turned and ran one
block farter east before turning again to head north. At the southernmost point in the race, I
crossed another timing mat that didn’t correspond to a multiple of 5K. Again, I assume it was there to make sure
everyone was running the whole route.
They didn’t need to add an extra timing mat at the easternmost point, because
that’s where the 25K point was.
After the next turn, I
was passed by another pace group. This one
was a 3:55 group. I was barely on pace to
break 4:09. Why was a 3:55 group passing
me this late in the race? How far back
did they line up?
As we got back on
Michigan Avenue, I tried to avoid looking at the street signs. I didn’t want to know how many blocks it was
to get back to Grant Park. I knew it was
a high enough number to feel intimidating.
When I got to the 24 sign,
I was a bit disheartened to see that I slowed to 10:15. I did the math and realized that I would beat
my time from last week if I just held that pace for the last 2.2 miles.
I felt like I had a devil
whispering in one ear and an angel whispering in the other. The devil was telling me that I didn’t have
to push as hard – that I could just coast in, and I would still probably beat the
time from my last race. Then the angel
told me that I couldn’t afford to slack off.
To be sure I wouldn’t slow down, I had to keep pushing hard to the end. At first, I listened to the devil. Then I listened to the angel.
I heard another song that
energized me. It was “Rich Girl” by Gwen
Stefani. The lyrics mention Harajuku girls. That put a smile on my face, because I was wearing
a hat and tights that I bought in Harajuku.
It wasn’t just hard to
maintain my pace. At this point, it was
hard to maintain my effort. I was
breathing much harder. I didn’t feel
hot, but in retrospect, I was probably overheating. By now, it was 60 degrees, and we had sunny
skies. I was way overdressed. I wasn’t consciously aware that I was
overheating, but probably only because I was so focused on how tiring the pace felt.
Just before crossing a
bridge, I accidentally noticed one of the street signs. I was crossing 25th Street. We would continue on Michigan Avenue until
Roosevelt, which is equivalent to 11th.
I had to continue on Michigan for 14 more blocks before turning. After crossing the bridge, I reached 24th
Street. The blocks were short, but I was
running out of gas.
At 25 miles, I saw that I
had brought my pace back under 10 minutes.
The devil in one ear whispered that I could slow to an 11 pace and still
beat my time from last week’s Twin Cities Marathon. Then the angel in the other ear told me I
could break 4:08 if I maintained a 10 pace.
I listened to the angel again.
This is one of the few
races where there a sign at one mile to go.
That gave me a chance to do another time check and see exactly what pace
I needed to break 4:08. That last mile
seemed to take forever, but it helped that there was also a sign for 800 meters
to go. I knew at that point that I would
break 4:08.
When I turned onto
Roosevelt, I knew I had to climb a ramp up to a bridge over some railroad tracks. Everyone dreads that ramp. It’s not a big hill by any stretch of the
imagination, but it comes at a time when you’re out of gas. I couldn’t quite hold my pace, but I did the
best I could.
After cresting that hill,
I made the final turn and saw the finish line.
With just 100 meters to go, I caught my left toe in a wide crack between
two sections of concrete. I was thrown
off-balance briefly. I didn’t fall, but I
shouldn’t even have to tell you where I felt it. Yup. The
proximal hamstring tendon in my left leg.
I just can’t get through a whole race without doing something to aggravate
it.
It only hurt momentarily,
and I didn’t have too much farther to run.
I crossed the line in 4:07:57. My
time last weekend was 4:09:36. My goal before
the race started was to beat that time by at least a minute. I did it the hard way, but I still did it.
I could’ve been
discouraged by how badly I struggled in the late miles. I ran positive splits by six minutes. Instead, I felt good about my race. I had a goal, I started too fast, I got
greedy, and I had a wake-up call. At the
end of the day, however, I still beat my original goal. With better pacing, I probably could’ve run about
three minutes faster. That gives me
something to shoot for in my next race.
Breaking 4:05 is a realistic goal. I
just have to be more disciplined about my pacing.
They change the design of the finisher medals every year. Usually, they showcase one Chicago landmark. This year’s medal had a little of everything.
I could see Edwin was
ahead of me as I made the last turn, but I lost sight of him after
finishing. I wanted to congratulate him,
but I never saw him again.
I was selective about
post-race food. I ate a banana, and I
picked up a couple other snacks to eat when I got back to the hotel. Then I made my way to the end of the finisher
chute to get my post-race beer. They
always have it in a commemorative can for the marathon.
You can’t take alcohol
out of Grant Park, so I had to find a place to sit down while I drank my beer. I was so full of Gatorade, that I could only
drink a sip at a time. When I was done,
I made a bathroom stop and then walked back to the Hilton.
After I got cleaned up
and did some stretches, I went to a post-race party at Eliot’s House. I saw a couple runners I knew, and I met several
others. I enjoyed the conversations so
much that I lost track of time. Before I
knew it, it was already dinner time.
Of the Chicago-style pizza
restaurants that are frequently recommended, the only one I had never been to
before was Pequod’s. After the party, I
was only a few blocks away from one of their locations, so I went there for
dinner. I got there later than I planned,
so they were already busy. For the second
time this weekend, I was able to get a seat at the bar because I was dining
alone. After having their deep-dish
pizza, Pequod’s is now my favorite pizzeria in Chicago.
Sunday night, I woke up a
couple times feeling thirsty. I probably
got dehydrated. The first time, I went
back to bed without drinking anything.
The second time, I felt even more thirsty, so I went to get something to
drink. I still had half a bottle of that
protein drink from my race packet, so I drank the rest of it. Then I drank some water.
I tried to get back to
sleep, but I had too much food and beverage in my stomach. I couldn’t get comfortable. After tossing and turning for the next hour,
I had to rush to the bathroom. I had a
sudden attack of diarrhea.
After that, I never got
back to sleep. For the next two hours I
rested in bed, but I had to make two more trips to the bathroom. It’s possible that my digestive system was just
fragile from the combination of exertion and overheating. It occurred to me, however, that the protein
drink was probably supposed to be refrigerated.
I left it out at room temperature for more than a day. I didn’t know if I had food poisoning, so I
was hesitant to eat or drink anything else until I was sure my digestive system
had stabilized.
Thankfully, I didn’t have
an early flight. I was able to spend
most of the morning in my hotel room. I
lost a lot of fluid, so it was important to rehydrate, but I waited until I was
feeling better and did it gradually. In
lieu of breakfast, I ate a few snacks that I had in my room.
If I got there when they
opened, I would’ve had time to have lunch at Lou Malnati’s before leaving for
the airport. That was the original plan,
but I wanted to wait a little longer before putting that much food in my
stomach. Instead, I went to the airport
early and ate lunch there. Eating at the
airport was more difficult than I thought.
Half of the restaurants were closed, and the ones that were open had
limited seating. I eventually found an open
seat at one. It wasn’t as good as Lou’s
pizza, but it allowed me wait longer before eating.
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