Chicago Marathon - RunMarathon

Just before the gun, Ryan Hall came running out and joined the other elites, pumping up the runners in our corral along the way. Pretty cool. As I looked around, Most of the guys near me had pace bands on with the time and miles on it, chatting with each other about their goals. I heard sub-2:50, trying for 2:40, etc. It was a little daunting. As soon as the gun went off, swarms of people started absolutely killing the pace. I looked down at my watch, trying to hold back and saw 6:20s. Too fast, dial it back.

I quickly stopped caring about everyone else’s race -- this was my day. My Garmin was way off, perhaps because of the tunnels and the tall buildings, so I just hit lap at each mile marker and looked at the time. Might as well have been a $10 watch for all the good it did me. :D

The first 4 miles of most of my training runs feel like I'm aqua jogging with Wilford Brimley. This was no exception. Hips were tight, calves were sore, ankles twingy. Staying relaxed, I figured I’d settle into a groove after that. But I continued to struggle with turnover. Running at my goal pace took a concerted effort that I was having doubts about maintaining. Breathing was easy though, which calmed me and allowed my mind to settle. I've never done a big race like this with the insanely loud crowds cheering the entire time, so I soaked that up when I was feeling good, but mostly I focused on form and running at my own goal pace.

A quick word about running clothes and women. In my limited experience, the fastest women at a given race tend to wear the least amount of clothes. The speedo style bottoms and sports bra are a popular combo. And whenever a speedo came by, men became these migrating birds, flying in perfect v-formation behind her, magically finding that extra gusto to up the pace. This, friends, is the power of the pace booty.

The energy from the aid station volunteers was amazing. Each neighborhood, from Chinatown to Little Italy, had dozens of volunteers from that area out on the course handing out Gatorade, water, bananas, and gels. I loved the sense of niche communities coming out together to form a whole Chicago.

Finally by mile 8 I started feeling strong. Maybe it just took that long to shake the taper rust off and warm up. From 8-12 there were some waves of crappy feeling as the 3:00 pace group passed me by, but I stuck to my ticking watch time, which kept showing me at 6:51 every mile, so I knew the pace group was going out too fast. Relax, breathe, focus. Run your own race.

Just after 13 I saw the early faders. You know, the ones who had been doing the big bad wolf impression in your ear back at mile 6. The clock showed 1:29:xx at 13.1, and everything was falling into place. These next 7 miles were my favorite, running through Greektown and Chinatown, where the neighborhoods look like Sesame Street and all the happiness makes you think Mr. Hooper and Big Bird are just around the next corner.

My rhythm was chamois butter smooth now, as I remembered all those mid-week 14-16 mile early morning runs that laid the foundation for this race. In fact, I brought my iPod but didn't listen to it once, and I'm one who LOVES listening to music on my runs. It was all about focus.

At mile 20 I really started thinking about the finish, but not in a 'someone please make it stop!' kind of way that I'm used to. My mind was like a flip book of running memories, flashing images of rainy runs, hot runs, trail runs, runs with Alaina, inspires from BTers, and seeing my family at IMLP last year. One person on BT that deserves a shout out here is Bobby aka Dream Chaser, whose positivity, knowledge of the sport, and support for other athletes has helped me and others to believe in themselves and keep chasing bigger dreams. Thanks Bobby!

Note: 6.2 miles is a long way at the end of the marathon. Dozens of athletes around me saw their goals fade away in a pile of cramps and sore muscles. I know this because I've been there this year. Groin and hamstring cramps have slowed me late in races so I remembered to finish my salt sticks and take Gatorade and water at each aid station til the finish. By 22 it was time to see what was left in the tank. I picked the pace up a few secs per mile, still playing it conservatively because I feared cramps, which would lose me minutes rather than seconds.

And then the race was all before me. I was the one passing people. I was not fading. I was running strong to the end, though still within myself. A couple of people around me made their moves too so I paced off them until the bridge at mile 26. And for the last 1.2 miles I averaged 6:29/mi. All those trail runs lifted me up the bridge passing bunches of people. Then the track workouts kicked in as I gunned it down the final meters and saw the clock in its finals seconds of 2:58.

As I crossed the mat I let out a yelp of joy and a fist pump. This time not collapsing into a heap like at the Indy marathon. I did it! I had a perfect day and executed so well it would've made Texas DOC proud. I grabbed my medal, got my pic taken and grabbed a cold beer. The perfect finish to a perfect day. I chased and captured my stretch goal, qualified for Boston by 5+ minutes, getting my revenge on their rejection slip last month.

I wouldn't change a thing. I ran my race and followed my plan. Next time I can take a bigger pace risk in the last 6.2 miles but I needed to get this goal first.

Beer. Sun. Rock star dance.


Next time I'll follow an 18 week plan and try some 80+ mile per week stuff to see what I can do.