Chicago Marathon 2010

In the 1957 MGM classic film "12 Angry Men" with Henry Fonda and Lee J Cobb (and 10 other brilliant, talented actors...seriously, one of the best casts ever), a key piece of evidence discussed in the movie is whether or not one can look through the windows of a passing L train to see what's happening on the other side. I've always wondered about that, and I can now report that it's true: one can, in fact, look through the windows of a passing L train and see what's happening on the other side. This has nothing whatever to do with my race experience; just something I've wondered about since I first read Reginald Rose's play in the 6th grade.

Going into this weekend, my spirits and hopes were both high. I'd had some excellent recent races, including the Park to Park 10 Mile, Georgetown Half Marathon, and even the Donor Dash 5k. Between that and my speedwork with Runner's Edge of the Rockies I was certain that I would break four hours at this race. All my friends had voiced support and encouragement. I'd even come up with what I felt was a very clever idea: I'd asked several friends to call me and leave encouraging voice mails, which I uploaded to my iPod to play every half hour or so. I was very pleased with the number of friends who called, and the positive messages they all left (Very Special Thanks to all who called and props to Yvette whose original idea of carrying her cell phone on her marathon suggested this to me). I was really looking forward to hearing them.

As the weekend progressed my excitement grew. I visited the expo Friday morning and had lunch with my friend JaCinda. My baby sister flew in from California and arrived late Friday. Saturday morning she and I went to the expo to see the panel of online diarists, including JaCinda (the Marathon had selected ten people to keep training diaries on the marathon website)! Then Vicki and I had lunch at Navy Pier with my dad and Katie, who had also flown in Friday. Over lunch we discussed where they would be waiting for me on the course to cheer me on. Then it was back to the hotel for me, to rest my legs (and the rest of me).

When I woke up Sunday morning it was already 60 degrees! That didn't bode particularly well for the rest of the morning, but I tried not to think about it and instead focused on my plan of attack. During my mental coaching with Coach Ashley, I'd divided the race up into four segments, based on the splits on my pace band, and had a strategy for each. The first four miles were my Warm Up segment, where I was going to gradually (but consistently) increase my pace. The next 8 miles were going to be the most aggressive pacewise, and I was looking forward to pushing myself and building up some time. The third segment would be slightly slower than the second, but still aggressive and steady. Then, for the last 6.2 miles, I'd dig deep and push through. My pace band had me easing off pace a little for those miles, and I figured I'd need that in light of the 16 aggressive miles in the middle. Regardless of anything else I was resolved to turn up the juice as much as I could at the end and have as strong a finish as possible.

After hitting the portajohns, checking my bag, hitting the portajohns, doing a few strides to warm up, and hitting the portajohns, I made my way to my starting corral. Finally, the National Anthem was played and the wheelchair racers took off. Minutes later, I started walking forward, then jogging as my corral made its way to the start. I reached the starting line and my race began!

Despite the hundreds of people surrounding me (more than at any other marathon--or any other race except possibly the BoulderBOLDER--I've run), I was able to settle into my warmup miles relatively easy. Unfortunately I'm not entirely sure what my splits were for the first few miles, because a big chunk of the first mile was practically underground! Not underground exactly, but the course ran under bridges which, combined with the tall buildings of downtown, interrupted the satellite signal to my Garmin! I first noticed it at the 2 mile mark when my watch said I'd run 2.5 miles. By the end of the race I'd somehow picked up nearly 1.1 miles!

Even without knowing exact distance, however, I had a pretty good idea of how fast I was running. And, honestly, I was a bit ahead of myself by the time I'd come to the second part of my race. But my energy was high, and so was my confidence still. But it was starting to get warm. This was about the time that I made my second mistake.

I think I made my first mistake when I didn't eat any Honey Stinger Chews at the first aid station. In my training, and in my last 3 marathons, I'd taken 2 or 3 chews at every aid station, washing them down alternately with water or Gatorade. I'd had good results with that; but I'd earlier made a decision to not do that at the first aid station (although I did drink some Gatorade) because it was only 1.6 or so miles into the race. After that, I fueled up at each subsequent aid station by both eating and drinking. But for the first half of the race, I drank only one cup of either water or Gatorade. Temperatures were climbing, and if I'd been thinking ahead I might've acted differently. But I was focused on the moment. When I started the second half of the race, I decided to start drinking a cup of water AND a cup of Gatorade, doubling my fluid intake. This helped a little, but I think it was already too late. This was my second mistake: I should have started that sooner. By mile 18 I was taking 2 cups each of water and Gatorade; but again that's something that I should have started sooner.

When I was at mile 16, I heard someone announce that the Event Alert System had been upgraded from Green to Yellow. This meant that temperatures were slightly higher, and the announcer encouraged runners to keep drinking fluids and slow down if necessary. I was definitely running slower myself: I'd slipped from running between 8:45 and 9:00 miles to somewhere between 9:15 and 10:30 for the past few miles as things had gotten warmer. I'd also begun walking longer through the aid stations, and even my scheduled regular walk breaks had been going longer than usual. I still hoped that, if I could push myself and find the inspiration and the energy, I might be able to make up the time. As the miles dragged on, however, and the temperature continued to rise, my pace continued to slip and I soon knew that a sub-4 finish was out of reach. And, by the time I reached mile 22, I knew that even setting a new PR was out of the question.

I have to admit, it was pretty demoralizing. I'd trained hard, consistently, and well. I'd had excellent results in my recent races. I had the love and support and encouragement of family and friends. I'd run the first half of my race almost exactly according to plan (maybe even a bit faster). And now, I was watching my goals and dreams evaporate like so much spilled Gatorade on the hot streets. I was crushed. I wanted to run faster, to use my anger and frustration to fuel my run; but I couldn't. I didn't have the energy.

At the Nike Powersong Zone at mile 24, I heard an announcement that the Alert System had been upgraded to Red. Runners were now strongly encouraged to stop running and walk, or drop out entirely. With only 2.2 miles to go, I was determined to finish upright, and conditions and alerts be damned. The sight of a runner lying on the sidewalk, being tended to by an EMT, furthered my resolve. This was where I made my third mistake. In my grim determination to finish, I vowed not to slow down to a walk for anything, including the last 2 aid stations. Granted, I was running at a 13 minute pace by then, but I was still running!

I knew I was dehydrated (although I didn't know how badly). I believed that, at that point, I was so far gone it wouldn't matter if I took any drinks at those aid stations anyway, so I could at least keep from losing a few seconds by not slowing down to drink. In retrospect I think it's nothing short of a miracle that I made it to the finish line. Given the mistakes I'd made with regards to my fluids, I should by all rights have collapsed on the course. If I had, though, I'm certain I would have crawled or dragged myself to the finish line (or until some EMT forced me to stop).

When I turned the final corner just after mile 26, I saw the finish line clock inching its way towards 4:35:00. Now, I'd determined early on that I was about 5 minutes behind the clock, although I hadn't done the math to figure out exactly how far. I thought I was just under 5 minutes, say 4:57 or so. I reasoned, if I could cross the finish line before the official clock said 4:35:00, that would give me a sub-4:30 race. It turns out that I was 5 minutes and 10 seconds behind. My final time was 4:30:02.

After the race I made my way to the Hospitality Suite. I thought a massage was in order, but as my face and hands began to tingle and I started to sway, I realized going to the medical tent would be more prudent. They diagnosed me with severe dehydration, sat me down, gave me oxygen, took my blood pressure (low) and blood sugar (extremely low), and almost put my on an IV drip. I persuaded them to give me a cold Diet Pepsi instead which, combined with 3 sandwiches I scarfed down soon thereafter, served to bring me back from the brink of...well, whatever I was about to fall into.

I was pretty disappointed in myself immediately following this race (and for the next day, too). On the one hand, I think if I'd made some different choice--some smarter choices--with regards to my fluids, or let myself walk less, I could have had a better race. On the other hand, I believe that if I'd pushed much harder I probably would have collapsed on the course. I spent a lot of Sunday and Monday analyzing the race. I wondered if I'd gotten complacent, taken for granted that I'd have a sub-4 race. And, as I said, I think I've found the mistakes that I made. I hope to learn from them at my next marathon (which at this point I have decided will in fact be Mardi Gras in February 2011). But everyone has continued to be supportive and encouraging. The following comments in particular, made by friends over the past few days, have helped snap me out of my funk.

1. "Don't be disappointed. There are other races...you will break this goal...be proud you finished another marathon. Very few even attempt."
2. "Your time at Chicago had NOTHING to do with being overconfident."
3. "Race day is only one day...make peace with race day."

I believe I finally have.

Official Time: 4:30:02
YTD Race Miles: 155.4
YTD Total Miles: 1053.7
Honor Roll: Jon S, JaCinda S, Vicki T, Beth K, Janet M, Adrian W, Doug Sr, Katie C, Stevie Mac, Pat L
Very Special Thanks: Ashley A, John B, Patricia B, Randy C, Laci D, Michael K, Julie M, Keri N, Jen S, Maggie T, Sara T, Vicki T