Up to this point in my running career, I had run 10 marathons: 4 Grandma’s, 3 Twin Cities’, and 3 Boston’s. I was very excited for the opportunity to try a new event! I had registered for and gained acceptance into the Chicago Marathon nearly an entire year earlier. Needless to say, I was excited to finally experience it.
We got into Chicago on Friday evening. After navigating our way through a poorly marked airport terminal, we managed to find a shuttle to the train. I was not terribly excited about taking the train, but getting an Uber during rush hour would have taken forever and been quite expensive. To my delight, we found two (clean) seats on the train and as I partially suspected, were surrounded by other runners arriving from out of town. One runner in particular struck up a conversation with me after noticing my Boston Marathon jacket. His name was Sidy and he was from France. As it turns out, he’s run 219 marathons and ultramarathons in the last 9 years, and he’s run 64 of them in his bare feet. Yes, I did point out that was gross. He was unfazed. I noticed another woman who was partially listening to the conversation and would nod from time-to-time but never joined the conversation. Since I have trouble hearing in noisy situations, I was hoping someone else would take over but she was happy to listen. And in the end, so was I. Sidy was quite the adventurer.
Once we arrived downtown, we checked into our hotel and found a place for a late dinner. With full and happy stomachs, we then made a quick stop at a nearby Walgreens to load up on water and other essentials. It’s worth noting this was the best Walgreens we have ever visited. We were greeted upon arrival by a very enthusiastic manager who clearly loved her job or had taken in way too much caffeine that day. Whatever the reason, I appreciated her energy. Loaded up with our goodies, we stepped outside the store and headed towards our hotel when the largest rat ran I have ever seen scampered across the sidewalk in front of us. I was horrified. I know that these large, disgusting rodents are out there. I have just been lucky enough to never see them. I get creeped out just thinking about it right now. “At least it’s outside” I repeated to myself multiple times. Once we were safely back to the hotel with no other rodent sightings, we ended the evening with a drink at the hotel’s rooftop bar and enjoyed the Chicago cityscape.
I’m normally a wreck in the final days leading up to a marathon. I had vowed to try and be less anxious this time. Afterall, a hamstring injury had put this whole race in real jeopardy, and I was truly thankful to be there. I made a conscious effort to try and be less neurotic, to just enjoy the experience and above all else, not drive Dan completely crazy. I might have been a tiny bit successful up to this point. The wheels starting coming off when we went to the expo. Actually, things started out okay. There was no line for security or for bib pick up but once we started walking around and looking at merchandise, things got crowded and uncomfortable. I mean having tons of running gear at your fingertips is purely magical. Add in all the people and things quickly become quite unpleasant. This experience was not much different than any other expo we’ve attended. If you don’t show up with a patient attitude, you’re done. I thought I was prepared to be at ease, but my nerves got the best of me. The last straw was the Nike store, which carried the official event merchandise. I really wanted a jacket or some other Chicago Marathon item to wear proudly after the race. I wasn’t totally in love with the offerings, the place was extremely crammed, and loud music was blasting. Not playing. Blasting. I actually got light headed and high tailed it out of there, found the line for the shuttle back to the hotel, and preserved some sanity.
Dinner was early that evening. Partially because we’d have to get up super early the next morning, partially because we failed to make reservations soon enough. We ventured not far from our hotel to an Italian eatery. We got there early, as in 4:15pm. Though we had a reservation we opted to sit at the bar, where we ordered a round of drinks and some pasta. I sipped away at my wine, but eventually asked Dan to finish it when I noticed that no one else who appeared to be a runner had a drink in front of them. The food was nothing spectacular, but it did the job. It loaded me up with carbs. Back at the hotel after dinner, I finished laying out my clothes for the next day and packed my gear check bag. The only thing left to do was set an alarm for 4:15am and try to get a good night’s sleep.
Being the rule follower that I am, I arrived at the starting line at 5:30am according to the instructions given by the race organizers. It was a full two hours before my wave started and actually closer to 2 ½ hours before my corral, the last in wave 1, would get to start. The second weekend in October, in Chicago, is cold and DARK! I am not sure the last time I used a porta potty with barely any light. Luckily, I was one of the first people in line given my early arrival. Then, I found an open seat on a bench and rested my legs for as long as I could. Moving around, the temperature was fine. Just sitting on that bench, I was shivering. In fact, my arms were sore the next day. It had to be from the shaking. Ironically, or maybe not terribly so, I ended up sitting next to a woman from MN. She was talking to a guy on the other side who was from Canada. I opted not to interject myself into their conversation; I preferred to just eavesdrop.
The waiting is brutal. That’s the thing with large races. You have to get there so early and when it’s your first time at a particular event and you don’t know what to expect, well that makes it even more difficult. After what seemed like hours, because it WAS actually hours, the race got underway. I was in corral E of wave 1, which meant when the race started at 7:30am, it took me about 20 minutes to actually get to the starting line. I turned the corner onto Wacker Street and could see the starting line up ahead but I was distracted by the most disgusting sight. Alongside of the street where people had tossed their warm up clothes, men were peeing. Yes, grown adult sober men somehow thought it was okay to just relieve themselves in public. Not five feet away, event volunteers were collecting the discarded clothing to donate to charity. I don’t think anything marathon-related has ever enraged me so much. How completely selfish and improper must you be to pee on something that is going to be picked up and given to someone in need. And guess what? I also felt the need to use the bathroom again, since I had waited in the coral for an hour since my last trip to the porta potty. Being a woman, not to mention a sensible and respectful human being, doesn’t afford me the same ease so off I went to run my race, knowing if the urge became overwhelming I’d do the right thing and stop along the way and use the potty.
After making it past the crude individuals I hoped to not encounter along the race route (or ever), I did get to the starting line. It was almost 8am. I had been up since 4:15am. Sometimes, it’s exhausting just making it to the starting line of a marathon. I punched the start button on my Garmin and off I went. Since I was at the end of the first wave, the first few miles were not overcrowded. I was able to run fairly comfortably. Eventually, wave 2 runners started catching up and things got more challenging. I’m not entirely sure how they assigned people to their corrals and waves. I know that I got into the race with a qualifying time, so maybe that seeded me up higher than faster runners who entered via the lottery. I consider it a privilege to participate in these events and I always try and respect the race organizers and how they run it. But this was somewhat crazy. If I wasn’t speeding past someone, someone was speeding past me. And in a crowded field, that makes things quite precarious. Luckily, I managed to navigate the course pretty well, with someone bumping into me only once.
We weaved our way through of all the Chicago neighborhoods. In the beginning, I tried following the painted blue line which is the shortest path to the finish. Unless you’re running mostly alone and can run the tangents without concern, it’s not feasible to do that for 26 miles. I was running fairly comfortably and my hamstring wasn’t bothering me too terribly. I tried to maintain a pace slower than I was used to, knowing that I had missed several weeks of training and wasn’t confident about my conditioning. My goal really was to enjoy things and take in my surroundings. I did try and appreciate the sights, like the architecture and character of the buildings, and the sounds, like congregations standing outside of their churches singing to us. I kept looking for the lake, thinking we’d run right along it, but we were a street over. That’s what I get for not more seriously studying the course map! Reading the signs that spectators hold up is always a joy. Some are pretty clever. By the halfway mark, we were back in the heart of downtown Chicago and things got really crowded again. The crowd support was huge and I actually managed to hear and then see Dan as he cheered me on. It was here, he told me later, that I was about one minute behind Tiki Barber, retired NFL player. It was also at that spot that I wondered if I could really handle 13 more miles. My body was fine, as far as I can remember. The sheer number of runners is what was taking a toll on me. Planning out each step, going around others, and having others go around me was wearing me down mentally. I reminded myself that quitting would be far more painful than another 2 hours on the course. Thus, I trudged on.
Shortly after mile 13, the roads got wider and for a brief time at least, we were able to spread out. That provided a nice break and allowed me to get comfortable again. This same pattern would basically continue for the rest of the race. The water stops were a challenge and to be honest, I know I didn’t always approach them correctly. I tried not to walk, but that meant liquid going up my nose or down my chin and not in my mouth. I ate my Cliff Blocks for energy and my teeth felt gritty and gross from all the sugar. But, I trudged on.
As in the case of most marathons I’ve run, I can recall very little afterwards. Perhaps there’s some scientific reason for it. Perhaps it’s just me. I remember bits and pieces but that’s about it. Down the home stretch in Chicago, there are a few things I remember. I heard a couple of songs that made me tear up. First there was Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” which made me think of Gabe Grunewald, a professional runner from Minneapolis who died earlier this year from cancer at a young age. Her sisters and friends sang karaoke to that song at her post-funeral celebration. Then there was “Come on Eileen” which of course made me think of my Mom, who is one of my biggest supporters. With the adrenaline pumping and my pace quickened, I had to remind myself to watch my footing and avoid tripping. Tired legs and uneven pavement don’t mix well together.
I was aiming for what I thought was the finish line thinking I could get under 4 hours, only to reach that point and discover I had about 3 more blocks to go. Again, studying the course map ahead of time might have proved beneficial. At that point, though, it didn’t matter. I was almost there and I was thrilled, over or under 4 hours made little difference at this point. You work so darn hard to get to that point. All those months of training, working through injury, and then the 26 miles leading up to the .2 which is absolutely thrilling! For what I’m guessing were security reasons, there were no spectators along the last .2. I could see them, off at a distance behind a fence. But those last few blocks, it was runners and volunteers only. And then I was there. Crossing the finish line of the Chicago Marathon, my 2nd world major race and 11th marathon. I’ve said before, there’s really no way to describe that feeling and if I could bottle it, I would.
I made my way through the finish area, collecting my medal and then grabbing some water and a heat blanket. I tend to move pretty quickly at this point, as I want to be reunited with my family. Lots of runners move leisurely, stopping to take pictures or rest. Not me; if I stop, I might not get started again. Returning to the gear check tent area, I noticed how different everything looked in the daylight! I got my bag, threw on some warmer clothes, and headed towards the family meeting area. I spotted Dan before he saw me. These are always some of the most emotional moments for me. Seeing my family, those who support me and follow me while I pursue my goals, is another thing I cannot put into words. I am so grateful to do what I do and to have people who are willing to endure the crowds, chaos, and sometimes unfavorable elements to watch me makes it all that more meaningful. As much as I like telling them about my race, I also look forward to hearing what they’ve done for the last 8 hours! As it turns out, Dan had watched me in three different spots along the course, even though I only saw him once. He walked, took the train, and had his own adventure that morning. He told me how the crowd around him at the 13 mile mark was looking for Tiki Barber. Eventually, Dan is the one who spotted him but no one else saw him. Not wanting to yell in the video he was taking, he simply pointed hoping others would notice. And not to brag, but I did end up finishing 20 minutes ahead of Tiki. In his defense, he carries a lot more muscle than I do.
We walked back to the hotel where a hot shower awaited me. We had a late lunch with a friend from Minneapolis who now lives in Chicago, and then relaxed at our hotel bar for the evening, having endured enough crowds for the day. Those are the moments that I wish would go on forever, those satisfying moments blurred by exhaustion (and maybe some wine) in which you can bask in the glory of your achievement.
The next day, we made our way over the Nike store so I could get the gear I wish I had bought at the expo. We stopped for a drink at a place not far from our hotel where I saw a familiar face. The woman (and her husband) from the train ride on Friday night were in the same establishment seated not far from us. She came over to ask me if I remembered her. In such a large city, it was amazing to run into the same person on multiple occasions. They were from Rome. And they were going home the next day and then coming back to the US so she could run New York three weeks later. And you all think I’m crazy.
In the days that followed, as I reflected upon the race, I was dogged by the thought that the race wasn’t terribly fun. With lower expectations for my finishing time, I was prepared to more fully enjoy the marathon. But I can’t have invested so much time and energy into training for something and then not have fun. Right? And why am I drawn back to doing it again and again? I think the best explanation is running a marathon is really just the last 26.2 miles of the journey. The months of preparation, the sacrifice, the agonizing over injury, the joy of overcoming the injury. It’s all part of the marathon experience, and each step is an important piece. I thrive on running. It’s something I can do and the challenges make it more rewarding in the end. I get burnt out from training and then when I try to take time off afterwards, it’s agony. So, back at it I go. Looking forward to Napa Valley Marathon in March. Bring on the winter training. Because #iamamarathoner