1998 Chicago Marathon

I have never focused an entire season of training on one event like this, not since my first marathon in 1991. By the time October 11 arrived I had run two 18 milers and four 20 milers. All of the 20 mile runs were in the big heat of August or early September, and one of them it was over 90 degrees. It is awful to run long in the heat. I prayed for a cool day come October, but I feared the worst-- the marathon was very early this year.

I trained injury free and concentrated on losing weight. I started out my training at 234 pounds. I ran Sunday at 215. I logged nearly 500 miles in preparation for this marathon and designed my schedule to finish my with a half-marathon, a 25K race, a 10K race, then a weekend of casual running leading up the event. My yoga teacher designed a special pre-marathon class for me, all restorative poses, and the whole group did it together. It was excellent. As I began my taper my energy zoomed. I was so jazzed for the last week that I could barely sleep. The excitement was excruciating. I have never felt so focused, so anticipatory for any other of my previous 10 marathons. I was as ready as I could be. Bring it on!

The excitement was doubled by the great Clyde encounter I helped organize. The pre-marathon banquet at Leona's, the singlet I designed and had made by RaceReady: coolmax in yellow with red-side bars with art front and back in purple. The art: the equine Clydesdales, our totem, running on Chicago's lakefront with the cityscape as a backdrop. Actually creating the graphic was probably the most stressful part of the whole experience. Wednesday before the race the singlets arrived. Fantastic! The banquet was easy. The hospitality suite at the Hilton where we all converged was incredible, and generously arranged by the Colorado Clyde Luverboy Rick. The Dead Runners joined in the encounter and my new great buddy Teresa made all their connections. It was a marvel of cooperation and communal effort to bring the encounter together. My excitement was heightened by the TV interview I had on Thursday. The marathon office sent the Channel 7 crew over to see me. I ran around UIC in my new Clyde singlet and discussed the history and importance of the Clydesdale movement to running. I felt like I was in a movie I was watching. The details of the encounter, the media attention, the wonderful yoga, the lack of sleep, the banquet, the expo, getting together with all the Clydes, Oak Park runners, and Dead runners were part of the fabric of the whole experience. It only added to the great anticipation of Sunday.

Sunday dawned bright and was eerily warm. Forecast was for a high in the low 60's, with no wind. I knew it was going to be warmer. It was. We gathered in the suite and after doing some handstands and yoga, a group of us clad in our bright yellow, red and purple singlets proceeded towards the start. So many people were staying at the Hilton that the staircase was filled with procession from top to bottom, slowly heading out. The crowd never thinned.

Mike Johnston and I lined up with the 8:20 pace group, and set our goal on running 3:40 to 3:50. My coach told me to bank some minutes early, go out 10-15 seconds ahead of pace, settle in on pace until mile 16, then start reeling them in, one by one until the finish. My goal: 3:45, my ambition, to break 3:50. It was so incredible to finally be at the starting line. The crowd was huge. It was so exciting. I had tears in my eyes and my flesh crawled with goose bumps. I was delirious with anticipation. The gun went off and the surge carried us to mile one: 11:30 clock time, 9:06 chip time. It was so crowded, Mike and I were jammed shoulder to shoulder, never running free. Mile 2-3, 8:54, 8:42, then mile 4, we broke free and I managed an 8:15. The crowd thinned after we crossed the river and headed North. Mile 5, 8:32. The stretch of the course between 5-6 on Lake Shore Drive was very hot in the open and I was concerned with the heat so early in the race. Mile 6 in Lincoln Park we vented, Mike told me to go on with out him, he was struggling early. Mile 6, 8:54. I had designed a schedule for taking GU. First dose at 6.5, with water at 7. As we rounded the corner of Belmont and Broadway the crowd roared. It was a fantastic throng of people. Men in cheerleader's outfits befitting the locale, the sound system blared a Sousa march-- a great crowd. We motored along, miles 7-9: 8:38, 8:28, 8:29-- feeling strong, feeling good. Mile 10 pain in my hip, my old injury paying a little visit. I took 2 salt tabs, 2 ibuprofen's, and ate another GU. It was scheduled for mile 11, right on time. Mile 10: 8:51, mile 11 8:38, then, as we went across the bridge on Wells, over the river, unbelievably, a woman on a bicycle attempted to cross the road and ran into me! I came to an abrupt stop, threw both my hands out and pushed her off. She ran right over my toes. Before I could react further she scooted away. Wow! What a thing to happen. At least neither of us fell over. I continued on my way, unscathed, but amazed.

The course took a right turn onto Wacker drive. The crowd was immense. All the way along Wacker and onto Monroe, there were 5 to 10 people deep in the street, a wall of noise and cheering. Fantastic. We rounded the corner onto Monroe and when I got to the slope leading to the bridge over the highway I accelerated, driving up the hill. I picked it up as we ran to Halsted, rounded the corner and headed west on Adams. I missed the 12 mile split: my next split at 13 was 17:30, I was right on pace running 8:45s. I felt a bit nauseated from the GU and pills so I hooked myself up to the mental DawgByte dog belt, and visualized Cooper and Miranda pulling me along. I swung my arms and picked up my feet and ran through the ill feeling. Mile 14: 8:54. Down Halsted past UIC, I knew I was coming to the Oak Park water stop. Around the corner on Taylor, there were Cathy and Su who cheered me on. As we neared the mile 15 water stop the course narrowed. I found Karen, got a kiss and some Starburts. Saw Steve, Bob, Paco (who threw water on me) and many other of my running buddies. What a pick me up. Mile 15: 8:44.

Through Little Italy I started to think about reeling them in, picking it up, and pushed ahead into Pilsen. Great crowds, the smell of tacos al carbon thick in the air, mile 16-17, 9:02, 8:54. At mile 18 I saw the thermometer on the bank: 10:30 AM and 66 degrees. I did the math, I knew I could break 3:50 if I pressed. Mile 18: 9:27. Yikes! Mile 19-20, 8:57, 9:33. I walked 20-30 seconds through the water stops. I forced myself to eat GU at 18 and 22.5. By now the thought of GU was so revolting I thought I would puke if I ate another one. As we passed Comiskey, headed South, then crossed the highway, and headed back north, the course was very bleak, but still a good number of spectators were there to urge us on. I was pressing with all I had and was passing everyone. One by one I picked people off, I felt like I was pushing the pace as we hit King Drive. More spectators, the music was blaring La Macarena. Amazingly I started to dance the dance, moving my arms to the music. The crowd roared, I felt giddy-- mile 21-23: 9:44, 9:02, 9:20. And I thought I was pushing the pace.

Then the marathon thing happened. Not like hitting the wall exactly but the enormity of the event sort of overwhelmed me. I felt awful. Nauseated and desperate. I struggled. I took deep breaths, forced myself to swing my arms and keep my head up. I tried to press, push the pace back up and acknowledged that, yes indeed, that THIS is what running a marathon is all about. Time to suck it up, gut it out and push myself to the finish. Mile 24; 9:50. Then we dived into the tunnel under McCormick place. Instead of running into the pitch black, this year they had big flood lamps lighting our way. This tunnel goes on forever. The lamps heated it up. The air was tainted with exhaust fumes. It was HOT. I emerged and was rewarded by a huge blast of fresh air! Mile 25: 9:54. Then I realized-- mile 25, yeah!

The course wound its way along the bike path; it was narrow and crowded with walkers. I had started out running with the 3:40 pace group. By mile 15 was running with the 3:50s. Now I ran past them all. It seemed like everyone was standing still. I pressed on. I skipped water at mile 25 and focused on the end. Picking 'em up and putting 'em down. The hill, the ramp leading over the bridge at Roosevelt Road afforded me a bit of relief as I 'charged' up it. The end was in sight. I pressed on. Mile 26; 9:45. I kicked. The crowded roared, 385 yards to go, Joe Powers my first marathon guru yelled my name, a wall of people and sound. 100 yards to go. The balloons loomed large. A woman in front of me suddenly lurched to her right and keeled over. I fleetingly thought to stop and help her, but pressed on and picked up the pace. I put on an all out sprint, ran past 50 people, clicked off my watch, threw my arms in the air and crossed the finish line: clock time 3:58, chip time 3:55:56. I pranced in the finish chute, arms raised howling with joy!!! What a triumphant feeling. Who cares if I didn't get that sub 3:50, I felt jubilant. Better than I ever felt after a marathon.

The next day, I felt tired, sore, and elated. Amazingly I could walk up and down stairs. My hip was still sore. I couldn't conceived of running again, at least for a few days. As the reports filtered in, it was clear that the heat blasted everyone. My worst fear realized, but somehow I survived. It was over 70 at the finish. Those fast skinnies escaped the heat. Us Clydes took it in the withers.

Number 11 was an incredible journey. It is hard to imagine having a better, more complete marathon experience. I feel truly rewarded now.